Soul Magic (20 page)

Geoffrey pushed away the bitterness that soured his stomach.  “I have come to know the truth of this.  But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

With a chuckle, Darrick cuffed him on the shoulder.  Geoffrey found himself smiling back.  He fingered his cross, glad too of the rosary beads tucked in his saddlebag.  Faith had never deserted him in the past.  Thus his faith would serve him well now.

“I will not relax my vigilance.”

“Good.”  Sounding pleased, Darrick motioned ahead.  “We will ride as long as we are able.  My war horse is still strong, but some of the others grow weary.”

Again Geoffrey found himself glancing back at the two women.  Only to check the condition of the horses, or so he told himself. 

Darrick laughed out loud.  “Go on back and join them.  I need to be alone with my thoughts for awhile.”

“I too,” Geoffrey said, turning his mount so that the rest of their small column would pass.  He’d eat dust for awhile, but that was all right.  He had much to digest and sort out.

             
                            *    *    *    *

They made camp as the sun slowly sank behind the western horizon.  Tired and hungry, the men went about their duties with mindless precision, each keeping to himself.  Geoffrey was no exception.  He pitched his tent, made sure the guards were posted, and crawled inside to gnaw on his meager rations of hard bread and cheese.  He lay down, not to sleep, but to wait.  He had no doubt that before long she would pay him a visit.

Waiting, he told himself he was ready for her.  On the long ride, alone with his thoughts, he’d drilled it into his stubborn body that he would not want her, would not lust for her.  He would remain unaffected and unmoved.  Not a man with base desires, but above them, as befits one who longed to become a man of God but must, while his mother still lived, be a warrior. 

When Sarina entered his tent, obviously just having emerged from bathing, his resolutions fled as though he’d never made them. 

Greeting him with an unaffected smile, she lowered herself to the pile of furs that would make up his bed and grinned up at him.  Her damp hair curled around her shoulders, and she smelled of some floral fragrance or scented soap. 

His gut clenched.  Never had she seemed so beautiful to him.  Nor more alluring.

“We need to make a plan,” she announced, still smiling.

“A plan?”

“Yes.  To show Darrick and Alanna they should not be together.”

“Ah.”  He’d nearly forgotten she’d asked him to be her partner in their mutual quest to save their friends from themselves and each other.

“Do you have any thoughts?”

He blinked.  “Thoughts?”  Oh, he had thoughts, plenty of them.  None of them fit for a pious man.

Her laugh rang out, clear and lovely.  Despite the way his mouth felt suddenly dry, Geoffrey found himself smiling. 
              “On how we should go about convincing them,” she clarified. 

“I tried to talk to Darrick today.  He would not listen.”  Saying this felt disloyal, especially since he’d included Sarina in his argument to Darrick.

“Hmmm.”  Chin in hand, she regarded him seriously.  “Let me think.  I know.”  She snapped her fingers.  “How about if I seduce Darrick and make sure Alanna finds out?”

Geoffrey’s heart stopped.  Next, rage filled him, a rage so powerful that for a moment his vision blurred.

“You--”  Words failed him. 

Apparently oblivious to his reaction, Sarina continued.  “I don’t think seducing him would be too difficult – he is a warrior, after all, and has desires like any man.”

“I--” Still he could not seem to articulate.  To his chagrin he realized he was shaking.

Something in his expression must have registered, for she climbed to her feet.  “What is it?  What’s wrong?”

“You,” he exploded.  “You’re what’s wrong.  How can you think of doing such an immoral thing?”

“I fail to see the wrongness.”  Though she spoke quietly, her gaze was intent.  “Darrick is a man, with needs.  Alanna rebuffs him every time he touches her.  He is obviously in need of a woman.”

“But I--”

“And you,” she continued on, as though he had not reacted at all.  “You have made it plain you do not want me.”

At a loss for words he could only stare at her.  The emotions that buffeted him were strong and shocking.  Jealousy and anger, yes – these he would expect.  But the hurt, now that was new and different and disturbing. 

Why would the mere knowledge that she could want another man hurt him so?

Like a wounded animal, he lashed out.  “Harlot.”

Sarina only looked amused.  “I take no offense.  Among my people, we love as we will.  We find nothing ugly or debasing in the simple act of--”

“Don’t say it!”

Her amused expression changed to smugness, like a cream-fed cat.  “You do not want me, but you don’t want others to have me either.”

“I want you.”  The words burst from him.  The instant he’d said them he wanted to call them back.  “I mean I--”

She cast him a sidelong look of challenge.  “If you truly want me, then prove it.”

Ah, `twas the Garden of Eden all over again, only her lush body and ripe lips were the apple.  Forbidden fruit.  If he took but one small taste of her, all would be lost.

Her smile vanished, her pleased expression changing to hurt reproach.  “Do you speak false?” 

Geoffrey wanted to cradle his aching head in his hands.  “Why is it that every time I speak to you, I feel as though I’ve been buffeted about in a fierce windstorm?”

Was it his imagination or did her lower lip tremble? 

“Very well then.”  She turned to go.  “I see you are in no mood to work with me on making a plan.”

“Sarina, wait.”  Without thinking he caught hold of her slender shoulder and yanked her close.  She stumbled against him, her soft curves and feminine scent taking away his already limited capacity for rational thought.  His body, already aroused, roared to life.

God help him, rather than pushing her away, he kept her against him with his arm around her back.

“You do want me,” she whispered, gazing up at him while her full breasts pushed against his chest.  “I know you do.  Why do you try so hard to fight your desire?”

He heard only a few words.  Desire.  And hard.  As he was now.  So damn hard he thought he might shatter.

When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse.  “Aye, I want you Sarina.  More than I could have believed possible for a man to desire a woman.”

Her blue eyes darkened to black.  “Then kiss me.”

His heart pounded in his chest.  He heard a roaring in his ears.  And his breath sounded like the rasp of wood against rock. 

She raised herself on her toes. Then, watching him still, she placed her mouth against his tunic and kissed his chest. Her hands slid across his belly, then down, until she covered the bulge of his raging erection with her hands. 

“Feel how much you want me.”  She squeezed him.

Geoffrey couldn’t help himself, he pushed against her hand.  Another squeeze and a groan escaped him.  With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he captured her arms and held her still. 

“Sarina, don’t.” 

“Your protest sounds weak.” 

So it did, even to him.  Still it was a protest, and he tried to gather enough resistance to mean it.

But the warmth of her soft body as she curved into him proved too provocative. 

“You would do these things with Darrick?” 

At his harsh words, she stilled.  “I--”

Too far gone to think rationally, he slanted his mouth across hers, hard, punishing.  She gasped, her eyes wide.

“Would you kiss him thus,” he rasped, capturing her lower lip between his teeth, invading her mouth with his tongue.  Lust fueled his anger, and he finally allowed himself to touch her as he’d long wanted to, letting go of her arms to allow his hands to roam across her soft flesh and lush curves.  She arched into him when he found her breasts, and her nipples pebbled between his fingers.

He lowered her against the furs.  When he loosened his braes to free himself, she closed her small hands around his aroused manhood and began to stroke him.

“Geoffrey.”  She moaned his name, arching again as he touched her mound.  She was wet and hot and eager. 

He was more than ready.  Too far gone to think rationally, he felt primitive, savage.  He pushed himself deep inside her.  She sheathed him fully, tight and warm.

If he’d worried he wouldn’t know what to do, his body took care of that for him.  Head thrown back, Geoffrey gave a primal cry and began to move.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Though Ellete slumbered peacefully beside her, Alanna could not sleep.  Instead, she lay watching, struck by the child’s petite delicacy and femininity.  Ellette was so different from Caradoc, even in slumber.  Where Caradoc was a restless sleeper, Ellete barely moved.  One hand tucked beneath her head, a faint smile curving her lips, she apparently dreamt peacefully of better things.

Caradoc!  Ah, Caradoc.  How Alanna missed him. Soon, Goddess willing, she would hold him again in her arms.

Though she wanted to think only of her son, thoughts of Darrick intruded.  Alanna had never forgotten how his body once fit with hers, nor the wild, earth-shattering passion of their single mating so long ago.  Once she had longed for him in every waking hour, with every breath she took.  When they’d finally given in to their mutual desire, the result had been passionate and beautiful.  What Morfran had done to her after, the brutality and ugliness of his rape, had managed to banish her memory of Darrick’s lovemaking. 

Until now.  Recently, they’d begun to resurface.  And now, where she’d once only ached, she burned.

She feared to be alone with him – knowing how easily the passion flared to life between them.  Having Ellette stay with her was her own way of cowardly making sure it did not.  If Darrick were to come to her tent again, she doubted she would find the strength to resist him. Having the small child with her acted as a barrier. 

Darrick.  Would she ever see him again when this was over?  Once she had Caradoc and returned home, truly it would best for Darrick if she severed all ties, leaving him free to find a noble, mortal wife and start his family.

Best for him – but what of her?  How would her heart withstand the pain?

As a distraction from such distressing thoughts, Alanna turned her thoughts to the ancient legend.  Again she replayed the riddle’s cryptic verses in her mind. 
Pairs of pairs
.  Over the centuries many had interpreted this stanza – with results as varied as the seasons.  In the end, all thought it meant simply that she, a Reagan, must marry Darrick, a Tadhg or poet, and bear his child.  

But fate had intervened.  Her destiny had not been Madonna/savior as Wynne had planned.  She was no legendary magical princess, nor self-styled savior for the troubles of her people.  All she was, her entire sense of self - besides her mostly honorary title as Princess of Rune - was based on her being Caradoc’s mother.  And that was all she wanted to be.

Mother.  Not warrior woman, nor heroine. 

Nor lover.  Never again.

Or did she merely attempt to shield the truth from herself?  Not since the days before Morfran’s brutality had she thought of herself that way.  As a lover.

No.  Not now.  Not ever.

With sleep still eluding her, like an arrow her thoughts returned to Darrick.  The simple beauty of his grudging smile.  The warmth that burned in his dark eyes, lighting his face from within.  And, for the first time since Morfran’s brutality had stolen it from her, she remembered his touch, oddly gentle and sensual at the same time.  The promise of his kiss, with the capacity to shatter the wall she’d built around her self.

They had been apart a long time.  Surely by now he’d learned to forget her.

As she’d learned to forget him?  She wanted to laugh.  She wanted to cry.  She could not lie to others so she certainly could not lie to herself.  She’d never been able to forget Darrick Tadhg.  She feared she never would.

             
              *    *    *    *

Time to travel again.  Exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders, Darrick gave the order to ride out.  He’d managed some sleep, though frustrated desire for Alanna had kept him restless.  The camp had again been quickly dismantled, and he’d sent off a man to look for a village, any village, so that they might replenish their dwindling supplies.  `Twas daylight now, and the still-watery winter sun hid behind a thick coverlet of clouds.  The morning air carried the promise of snow.