The Magic of Highland Dragons (24 page)

Bren fell to his knees as if in a trance, straddling Faith’s body, pressing her down to the earth. He saw the fear in her eyes, and his chest tightened, but he had already gone beyond all hope of reason or tenderness. Something inside him had snapped as soon as he touched her, and he could no longer control the beast rising within him, overwhelming what had been the civilized parts of him only moments before. The dark magic beckoned him, taunted him, but it was the woman beneath him that held him enthralled. As he bent to her, the world around him faded, and there was only her scent, the warmth of her skin, the frantic pounding of her heart. He closed in and took her mouth in a fierce kiss, hard and relentless. He didn’t notice whether she struggled against him, he was far too consumed with the need of her. The need to claim his mate, to merge as one. His groin pulsed, ached, throbbed, and he threw his head back, gasping with the agony of it, even as his hands went to the edge of his kilt to shove the fabric out of the way. He thought he heard soft cries as he heedlessly pushed Faith’s skirts up around her hips, but it didn’t matter. Nothing, nothing mattered but being inside of her. The wind still howled around them, and now the rumble of thunder shook the very earth, and Bren reached for Faith in desperate, feverish need. He lowered himself over her, until the tip of his cock touched her soft opening. He gasped, his body trembling with need. After this moment, she would be his and his alone forevermore, and no other man would ever touch her again. Then he thrust, hard, tearing into her, tearing through her in one swift motion. He roared in ecstasy, drowning out her cry of pain, the howling wind drowning out both. His body no longer his to control, he drove hard into her, again and again. The world could have ended all around them, and still he wouldn’t have stopped. It was the best and the worst moment of his life, all in one beautiful, horrifying instant.

Faith had braced herself for the pain she knew would come, but still a scream rose in her throat. It was agony, that first invasion of his body into hers, as she had known it would be. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the side, clenching her teeth until the worst of it had passed. The pain quickly lessened to an aching burn, and she looked up at him. Despite the desperate circumstances and the chaos all around them, she was in awe of what she was feeling in that moment. Peace. Happiness. Love, for a man she barely knew, but couldn’t bear to be without. She knew that in time she would come to know his heart as well as she knew her own, perhaps even more so. In time, she would know every part of him.

In the flickering light that limned his face, he looked fierce, wild, dangerous. The wind was pulling at his hair, tugging it loose from its binding. For a moment she forgot her pain, forgot everything, and watched him. He was magnificent, beautiful. His eyes were closed as if in rapture, and his head thrown back. He was so close to her. He was inside of her. She could feel him tremble, could feel his body shudder. Then he opened his eyes and looked down at her, and he spoke, through ragged breaths, beautiful words that she couldn’t understand, but somehow knew the meaning of.

“A miche begt arwn du ailta, A beden miche tem astal.”

The words
felt
beautiful to her, and warmth spread through her body. She knew he had bound them together somehow. With his magic, with his passion. She knew that by rights she should be humiliated. And certainly no one would blame her should she be quite angry or traumatized. But all she felt was joy.

He thrust into her faster and harder, until his body went rigid and then began to convulse. She caught a glimpse of his face, and she would have thought he was in pain, had she not known better. He clenched his jaw tight, but a small cry still escaped from far within him. She could feel him pulsing deep inside her, over and over, until finally his muscles relaxed a bit and he opened his eyes. He looked down at her for only a moment, and he seemed almost shocked to see her there. Then his features hardened, and he pushed himself away from her, up onto his knees. He pulled her skirts roughly back down with hands that she saw were shaking.

“It’s done,” he called to his brothers, still looking at her with a fathomless expression. Then he stood and went to the edge of the circle, and kneeling down, put his palms to the earth. Eian and Drust did the same. Through the howling of the wind, she thought she could hear them chanting, their voices rising as if one, and she felt the wind blow faster, so fast past her face that she couldn’t even draw air into her lungs. She could see sparks appearing in the air, like little specks of electricity floating about, gathering into a bright cloud above her head. She watched them, fascinated, until suddenly the cloud exploded outward from the center of the circle, and she knew the storm that wasn’t a storm would be driven away by their light. Then she knew nothing for a long time.

Chapter 13
҈

Bren stood slowly, his head echoing in the sudden silence. The balance of dark and light had been restored, for now. The power Mored had pulled from the earth in his mad quest to see all Mac Coinnachs dead was safely returned. It was just after dusk now, and the pale moonlight was still shrouded in heavy clouds, though the storm was gone as if it had never been. He could barely see Faith, still lying where he had left her, very much like the virgin sacrifice she was. For she
had
been a virgin. His heart sank, but he refused to think about that right now. His brothers were moving to the center of the circle, and Drust bent over her. He forced himself to move, to go to her despite his shame, and all the hurt he had caused her that he now took into himself.

Drust looked up as Bren approached. Behind his stern expression was no small measure of relief. It had been a very close call this time. And had Faith not been with them…

“She’s unconscious, but I think she’s all right. We need to bring her to Berta right away. She’ll ken what to do for her.” Drust started to lift Faith into his arms, but Bren stopped him.

“I’ll take her.” Even he could hear the tremble in his voice.

Eian came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out again. “It will be fine, Bren. She’ll understand. Faith is a smart lass, she’ll ken ye never meant to hurt her.”

Bren turned a stony gaze on Eian, but didn’t answer. Nothing of what he just did to her was fine. Except for the fact that she belonged to him now. His heart beat faster at the thought, and despite all else his chest began to swell with happiness. Nothing would ever take her away from him. If she could forgive him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could forgive himself. He should have claimed her as soon as he saw the Dragon Ring and knew her for who she was. But he didn’t because he had made that ridiculous vow, and he had been so sure that given a little more time, she would have come willingly to his bed. He could have seduced her with tenderness and passion and held her close, after. But it was too late now. He had kept his honor all that time, but at a terrible price. All he could do was to wed her on the morrow and try to make things right. He lifted her into his arms and started for the castle, his brothers following silently behind.

He brought her to his own chamber and laid her on the bed while Eian ran to fetch Berta, who was the castle’s best healer, as well as their best cook. He was somberly removing her shoes and stockings when the older woman came into the room. He didn’t look up. “They told ye what happened?”

She gave a curt nod. “Aye. But there was naught else ye could do, now was there?” She passed her hand across Faith’s forehead. “She’s still out cold, poor dear. But nay doubt she needs her rest after all she’s been through these past days. Dinna worry, though, she’ll be just fine in a day or two. Let’s get these clothes off and get her cleaned up and comfortable before she wakes.”

Bren pulled her chemise over her head while Berta removed her skirts. He heard her little intake of breath before she could hide it. His gaze followed Berta’s, and he saw the wide streaks of drying blood on Faith’s thighs. Quite a lot of blood. Though he had never before taken a virgin, he was sure there was more blood than there need have been. More than was usual, certainly. And bruises. Several purple blotches already marred her skin where his hips had ruthlessly pounded into hers. His woman had deserved a gentle and tender breaching of her maidenhead, with all of the pleasure he could possibly give her, and instead he had been so rough that she was bruised. He stared in silence for a moment, lips pressed together in a thin, tight line as Berta discreetly left the bedside to fetch a basin of water. Leaning over, he tenderly kissed each of the marks, then each of her blood streaked thighs, before turning and walking out of the room without a word.

Berta returned to the bedside with a bowl of warm water and a linen cloth to wash away the blood and the dirt. Faith was still sound asleep, and most likely would be till morning. She suspected Bren had put a sleeping spell on her so that she could rest and regain her strength. And perhaps to give himself time to come to terms with all that had happened, as well.

“Ah, lass, ye are a lucky one. The man has it bad for ye. Ye’ll have your hands full with that one, but trust me when I tell ye he is worth every bit of the trouble.” She smiled to herself, humming a little tune while she worked. When she had finished, she pulled the sheet up and leaned a little closer. “I’m thinking it willna be long until I have a babe to mind once again. And it’s about time, too. I was beginning to think I’d be cold in my grave before any of these lads got around to breeding. This keep has been far too long without the noise and laughter of bairns.”

She finished her ministrations and pulled the coverlet up, adding a blanket from the foot of the bed. The she smoothed the hair back from Faith’s forehead one more time.

“Sleep well this night, lass, for tomorrow will be yer wedding day, and ye shall be Lady of Creagmor, but more than that, and much more again, ye shall be the wife of Bren Mac Coinnach.”

Faith woke slowly the next morning. Her head ached, all of her muscles were stiff, and her mouth felt dry. For a moment she was still dreamy, confused. But then it all suddenly came back to her at once as if a weight had been dropped onto her chest from above. She drew in a sharp breath as she remembered. The circle of stones. Magic. Darkness. Pain. She sat up. There was a dull ache between her legs. Pain still. But there had been joy, too. She let out a breath and she smiled, because she could picture him still, rising above her in the storm, anguish on his face because he thought he was taking something from her, something that she was not freely giving to him. But what he took from her last night had always been his, and she had given it freely.

She leaned back down onto the pillows. Bren had made her truly his, and she had never felt happier. In fact she felt as if she was glowing from the inside out. But where was he? Why had he not slept beside her? She wanted him here to hold her in his arms again…

The door abruptly opened, and Berta came in, followed by a row of maids with buckets. A large wooden tub already sat in the center of the room before the hearth. But this was not her room. She looked around, only just now taking notice of her surroundings. This was in Bren’s room. She was in the laird’s chamber.

“Ah, lass, yer awake at last!” Berta set a tray of tea things on the table and hurried over to the bed. She placed a cool, dry hand on Faith’s forehead and nodded her approval. “Nay worse for the wear. I’ve gotten ye a bath ready. I thought a good soak in the warm water would do ye good this morning. I expect ye must have a few aches, here and there.”

She gave her a meaningful look and a wink, and Faith blushed. Did Berta really know what had happened last night? But she was out of bed and into the warm water in no time. She sank down with a blissful sigh as the heat loosened her muscles and soothed the soreness away. Berta dropped some healing herbs into the tub, then handed her a cup of steaming tea. Faith sipped it slowly and leaned back. In truth, the warm water felt wonderful. But she couldn’t quite relax.

“Where is Bren?” she asked when she just couldn’t wait any longer.

“He’s in the hall, taking the meal with his men. “ She saw the obvious look of disappointment on Faith’s face and gave her a kindhearted smile. “He’s got it in his head, lass, that he did ye a grievous wrong last night. I do believe he’s afraid ye will hate him for it. Or at least never forgive him for what had to be done.”

“But he didn’t have a choice. I
know
he didn’t have a choice. We would have been killed. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did, even… before.” She looked down at her toes, pink from the heat of the water. “And it wasn’t so bad. I mean, it could have been much worse. And I’m all right now.”

“Aye, it could always be worse. And next time it will be better. Let’s wash yer hair, now, shall we?” Berta gave her a girlish grin and snatched the teacup out of her hand. “After all, today is yer wedding day, and ye’ll want to look yer best.”

Faith’s head snapped up, and she nearly slid down under the water, catching herself with the palms of her hands on the bottom of the tub. “What?”

Berta dumped a bucket of water over her hair and reached for the soap. “I do hope ye are agreeable, lass. The laird wants to wed with ye straight away, and he’ll be most fierce upset if he doesna have his way in the matter. A most stubborn man is our laird, ye ken.”