Soul Magic (24 page)

“Caradoc has never had an effect on my power.” 

“You have the girl child now.  Another pair of the pairs.”

“We do not know that she is of your blood.”

“She could be of yours.  Caradoc is of both.”

She considered his words.  “I still think you are necessary to raise magic to defeat Gorsedd.”

He forced a smile.  “Then I will ride after you as soon as I am able.”

Alanna didn’t answer, only regarded him thoughtfully.  He couldn’t read her expression. 

Such a long speech exhausted him.  Panting, he lay still and tried to summon up enough energy to continue.

“I cannot do that Darrick.  I don’t think we can get back my son without you.”

“Why not?” he barked, frustrated by his weakness and the way time seemed to be running out.

“Because,” her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear it, “I think your strength and mine must join together to defeat Gorsedd.  Without you, we barely raised enough magic to create the storm, which should have been a simple thing.  Yet when you held my hand against the dark riders, our power felt endless.”

She was right – he had felt it.  But that wasn’t all – he could tell from the catch in her breath.

“What else?  What are you not telling me?”

For a moment the uneven thump of his heart was the only sound he heard. 

Then he felt her lips on his cheek, her breath tickling his ear. 

“I think you might be right.  Caradoc could very well be your son.”

             
                            *    *    *    *

It took every ounce of courage she possessed to say those words.  But there could be no escaping the truth – Gorsedd’s power increased while the rest of Fae suffered.    When she looked at him again to see his response, he seemed to have fallen asleep once more.  The most difficult things she’d ever had to say to him and she wasn’t even certain he’d heard her.

If she were to lay her head on the pillow next to him, Alanna knew she’d drop into an exhausted slumber.  She had been tending Darrick now for four days.  Five nights she had spent at his side, placing cool clothes on his feverish brow, dribbling water into his cracked lips.

He’d lost weight.  Ribs showed in his broad chest, and his prominent cheekbones seemed even more stark.

She’d had to remove his clothing herself – refusing to allow even Sarina to assist her.  Touching him, at first so difficult, became easier as she told herself she merely nursed him back to health.  His tunic and braes she’d neatly folded, so they’d be ready for him to wear again as soon as he was well.

This she had never doubted.  Darrick would be well.  He was too stubborn to allow a simple thing like poison to kill him.

Poison.  No doubt it had been meant for her.  Or for all of them.  Wynne had said if Darrick had eaten the entire apple, he would have died instantly.  Luckily he’d only taken a few small bites.

This time, Gorsedd’s attack had struck much closer to home.  This time, he’d nearly succeeded with poison in accomplishing what his magic had failed.

While Darrick slept she studied him.  Dipping the linen square in cool water, she trailed her hand over his shoulder, his chest, stopping short of dipping below his breechcloth.  Her heart skipped as she realized this time her touch was more than healer to patient.  Now she wanted to touch him as a woman touches a man.

She darted a look at his face.  He still slumbered, though his breathing sounded harsh and uneven.  For the past few days her touching of him had become less of a necessity and more of a guilty pleasure. 

Once, she had loved this body.  More importantly, she once had loved this man.  The inside core of him, everything that he was, everything he’d ever be. 

Now?  While she couldn’t afford to think beyond rescuing Caradoc, and perhaps saving the world, if Darrick actually was her son’s father, `twould be only natural they would share some kind of future.  Once Gorsedd had been thwarted in his evil plans, all of Fae would have renewed hope for the future.  She more than most.  For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to feel joy. 

“Alanna?”  His voice, heavy with sleep, rumbled up from his chest. 

She froze.  Her gaze flew to his.  “I—you’re awake.”  Color stained her cheeks.  How long had lain there while she explored his body? 

A glance at the force of his arousal told her long enough.  She yanked her hand away.

As she stared, her embarrassment slowly became desire.  A shiver of pure need jagged through her.  She looked away, trying for nonchalance and failing.  Her rapid pulse and ragged breathing gave her away.

She wanted him in the way a woman wants a man.  On her, with her, inside her.  How could this be?  So long had she felt barren, dried up, desire in that part of her life she’d put away forever. 

But this, this was Darrick.  Long ago she had known him intimately and, taking care of him through his illness, had felt the warmth of his skin beguile her into wanting him again.

Closing her eyes, she swayed towards him. 

“Alanna,” he said again.  Capturing her wrists, he placed her hands on his bare chest.  His nipples were taut, and she felt her own harden in response.

“Darrick--”

“Look at me.”

She swallowed tightly and met his gaze.  He watched her, his eyes dark and full of heated expectation.  At the hollow of his throat, the beat of his pulse matched her own.

“On your terms,” he said.  But it was not the words, nor his tone so full of stark need.  `Twas the catch in his voice when he spoke to her, the way he leashed his own strength and desire to accommodate her wishes.

No other man would be so understanding.

Still she hesitated.  Though part of her wished he would simply lay her down against the blankets and take her, Morfran’s awful act of brutality had forever marked her.  She knew if she and Darrick were to have any type of future together, this would have to be, as he’d said, on her terms.

Gazing at him, while he silently watched her, intensified the hot ache in her belly.  Giving in to temptation, she leaned close and gently touched her mouth to his.  He went very still as she kissed him. 

Growing bolder, she deepened the kiss.  Her tongue touched his, then danced away, before returning to stroke again.

Darrick made a sound, low in his throat.  Part groan, part moan, `twas a cry of both torment and delight. 

Blood singing in her veins, she moved closer, hip to hip, hating that her gown kept her skin from his and longing for enough courage to straddle him and settle her damp need over his arousal. 

Instead, she buried her face in the corded muscles of his neck. 

His breathing came harsh and furious, equaled by the pounding of his heart.  His heart, her heart, she could scarce tell the two apart. 

She jumped when he touched her, his hands cupping her breasts and stroking her pebbled nipples.  Confusion – desire – and the hot, hot ache made her arch herself into his caress.  This was right, what she only dimly remembered, what Morfran’s act of rape had stolen from her forever. 

Desire…  and love.    Need… and completion.

Darrick and Alanna.  Together, two parts of a whole.

Pushing herself to her feet, she smiled slowly and, keeping her eyes on his, slowly shimmied out of her gown.  His gaze felt like a physical touch as he watched her, searing her in each place where she longed for the feel of his calloused finger tips.

Then, the cool air raising the flesh on her bare skin, she gathered her courage.  Took a deep breath and, still holding his gaze, Alanna straddled him, settling the core of her where her ache could be eased.

His body swelled as her moist warmth embraced him.  He cried out – no, that was she.  She moved, he did the same, and she took him deep inside her with one swift motion.

“Home.”   Which one spoke didn’t matter, for the simple word was truth.  Home.  Finally, at long last.  Home.

Sheathed inside her, he kept still, watching, waiting.  She met his eyes and knew nothing would be the same again.

“Alanna.”  His voice rumbled along her nerve endings like steel clothed in fur.  She saw how much the effort to remain unmoving cost him, as he clenched his jaw and  perspiration beaded on his brow.

With a shimmy, she let her body squeeze him. 

He gasped.

She smiled, then gave a gasp of her own as he arched himself into her.  Now she wanted, no needed, to have his mouth on hers, to taste him, to share his breath.  Pushing himself up on his elbow, he met her halfway.  This time, when their lips met, their kiss was far from gentle.  He possessed her, and she him.  Their essences blended together as Alanna began to move.  Slowly, stroke by stroke, letting the tension build and build.

She didn’t realize she was crying until her tears rolled from her cheeks to her chin.  Darrick brushed them away with his hand.  “Why?” 

How could she put words to emotion?  She started to shake her head, then realized she at least had to try.

She felt shock when he did it for her.  “Do not weep.  Our life begins anew this night.  We will erase the past as if it never was.”  And he proceeded to prove it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alone in his tent, in the time he usually devoted to prayer, Geoffrey wanted to look to the heavens and roar aloud his shock and confusion.  How had such a thing happened?  He could hardly believe it, nor did he much recognize the man he seemed to have become.  The mere thought of Sarina made his body quicken.  Her slightest smile and his chest swelled with pleasure.

And now he must deal with the possibility that he might be Darrick’s brother.  Bastard born, `tis true, but then he’d always known he’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket.  What he’d never had was the name of his father. Now he, once alone in the world, had family again.

Tadhg
. 

And Oren Tadhg had been his sire.  He’d admired the man, learned from him, but regretted now that he’d not been able to name him father to his face.

Would he tell Darrick?  Would she?  Alanna had seemed just as stunned as he, yet she’d accepted the old woman’s proclamation as certainty.

Dare he do the same? 

So much had changed – no longer a virgin, he now knew the pleasure of the flesh.  A man of spirit, he’d felt undeniable proof of the existence of magic as power had spiraled through his body and his and Sarina’s joined hands.

Sarina.  Though he would have thought once would be enough, the sampling of her charms only whet his appetite for more.  He longed for her with every breath.

Though he took to increasing the time spent in prayer, the guilt that wracked him wouldn’t abate.  He made grim-faced resolutions to avoid her, knowing as he swore that he’d never keep them. 

If she didn’t come to him, try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from going to her.

Sarina.  Even speaking her name, three simple syllables, brought him happiness.  Never had he imagined such delights as her body held for him, nor the ecstasy her caress so quickly brought.

Obsessed, consumed, and tormented. 

For the first time Geoffrey understood why Darrick had so mourned Alanna’s disappearance.  So too would he feel if Sarina were to leave.  Yet he knew when this was over, he had to let her go.  Should want her to go.  Instead, he needed her to stay.

He finally had a name, but knew not the man who wore it.

In his confusion he had no one to turn to.  Darrick was still unconscious, and he trusted none of the other men enough to confide in them.  He had no one but Sarina, and every conversation with her inevitably turned to lovemaking.  He couldn’t stop himself and she seemed to feel the same.

Still, he was Geoffrey Tadhg and knew he had to try. 

That night, he crossed the frozen ground to her tent before the moon had scarce risen.  He called her name and husky-voiced, she bade him enter.  Stretched out on her furs, her tousled hair and languid gaze told him she’d been dozing. 

“I had to see you--”

“So eager?”  Sarina murmured, holding her arms out to him and stretching her long, slender body in a way he found utterly beguiling.

As usual, his body hardened in a rush.

“Wait.”  Geoffrey set his jaw and avoided looking at her.  He forced his legs to move away, and lowered himself to the ground at the opposite end of the tent.  “We must talk.”