by Eliza Knight
I will kill that bitch. And her mother. I will kill them all.
Nay! Julia shouted in her head.
Melia grimaced, then groaned across from her, dropping the sword as she grabbed for her own head. She fell to her knees.
Through the pain in her skull, Julia charged forward, coming to a sudden halt when Melia lifted the crossbow and pointed a fresh dart at Julia’s mother, who still lay unconscious by the hearth. Ronan Sutherland slid across the floor, blocking her mother from Melia’s vision, planting his own body in the path of her poisoned dart.
“Nay!” Julia ground out, hands fisted at her side. “Put it down.” She enunciated each word slowly.
Melia suddenly dropped the bow. And stared at the discarded weapon in horror, then back at Julia.
“Ye…Ye…” the woman stammered.
But Julia still didn’t understand exactly what was happening. Had she done that? Had she been able to control Melia somehow? Force her to put the weapon down?
There was only one way to find out. Julia concentrated all of her energy on Melia. “Give me the necklace.”
Melia reached up and yanked the gold chain from around her own neck and held it out to Julia. The look of outrage on her face grew more grotesque and she sputtered, spewing out vile curses.
Dear God in heaven… Julia was controlling Melia with her mind.
Ignoring the horrible things Melia was saying to her, Julia continued her demands. “Drop it and sit on the bed.”
Melia did exactly as Julia said, and behind her, the gasps from the warriors and her father echoed in the room. They had no idea of the powers Julia had been gifted, and probably wondered what in bloody hell was going on.
Julia picked up the emerald and tucked the gem and broken chain into the bracer at her wrist, feeling comforted by the warmth of the stone.
The pain in her head had not receded, and a warm trickle of blood fell from her ear at the same time she saw it mirrored on Melia’s own skin. Whatever power she had over Melia’s thoughts and impulses was causing them both to bleed.
The urge to pummel the woman was great, but that would not satisfy Julia. If anything, it would only cheapen what should be a victorious moment. Julia picked up the tiny crossbow and tossed it into the fire. The moment the poison hit the flames, it sparked a vibrant purple and then was gone. Melia’s shouts of outrage could have toppled the stone walls.
“Untie the bed curtain,” Julia ordered.
Despite her mouth continuing to spew venom, Melia did as she was told.
“Hold still.” Julia wrenched Melia from her seated position, using the ties from her mother’s curtain on her bed to bind her wrists.
Cradling his wife in his arms, Ronan was calling for a healer. Julia was relieved to know that her mother was not dead.
“Ye will be hanged for this,” Ronan shouted.
Julia met Melia’s eyes, and the woman smiled, her gaze never leaving her. “Ye can kill me, but as long as there is a protector, there will be someone like me. That gem will not belong to ye forever. The king will fall. The country will be ruined, and all will know ye had the power to stop them—and failed!”
Melia’s words caused Julia to falter. Failure was her biggest fear. But she’d proven herself over the past few days, shown that she had what it took to uphold the auspicious position she’d been given. With Alistair’s help, she’d been able to save the king. And for now, Scotland would be safe.
“I dinna think we will kill ye,” Julia said softly. “For I’d rather ye spent the rest of your days, knowing that I was victorious. That the country thrived, and the king lived long into his years, while ye rotted away in a cell as nothing and nobody.”
Angry tears filled Melia’s reddened eyes. If she’d not been so filled with hate, she might have been beautiful. Where had all the hatred come from?
“Take her to the dungeon.” Julia turned away from the woman, handing her off to one of the guards.
She went to her mother’s side, where her father bent over her limp body, whispering against her ear.
As soon as Melia and the guards had gone, her father asked, “How did ye know?”
Julia fiddled with the chain falling loose of her arm bracer. “She told me. The woman had abducted the king, and when we found her at the Fairy Pools, she told me she planned to come here and finish what she’d started with Mama. I came as soon as I could. I wish I’d been here sooner.”
“The king?” Her father straightened, her mother still in his arms.
Julia nodded. “He is here. With the hounds. He wants one.”
“We’ve just had a litter, but—” Her father shook his head, still trying to comprehend everything Julia had said. “Lady Melia… abducted the king?”
“Aye, she was posing as a nursemaid. It was fortuitous of Mama to have sent me when she did.” Julia told her father everything that happened as he carried her mother toward her bed and laid her down, stroking her brow.
“And what happened just now, with her suddenly doing everything ye commanded?”
Julia shrugged. There were some things that even an intelligent warrior like her father, who had likely seen and heard it all, might still not understand. “I think she knew she was caught and there was nowhere for her to run.”
The Laird of Eilean Donan still looked perplexed, but he accepted what she said with a simple nod, then he looked back at his wife.
“I hope your mama will forgive me. I let that monster up here.” His voice was tight, making it sound like he was choking on emotion, and Julia didn’t blame him one bit.
“Ye wouldna have known any different. I’m sorry for failing at the pools, giving her the opportunity to come here in the first place.”
Ronan Sutherland shook his head, taking his wife’s pale hand in his, the backs of her knuckles scraped and bruised from fighting off Melia. “I thought they were friends.”
Julia squeezed her father’s shoulder, sitting down beside him on the bed. “So did I. She fooled us all.”
“Do ye believe what she said about the king? That others will come? Was she a part of a faction?”
Julia shook her head. “Not at all. I will make certain that he is protected, along with Sir Alistair. No one will take him away again.”
“Tell me about the necklace.” Her father tucked her mother’s blankets around her, then stood, tugging Julia up with him. He hugged her tight, then held her at arm’s length as though searching for injuries.
“It belongs to Scotland.”
“She stole that, too?”
“Aye.” Julia leaned into her father, letting him believe that the jewel was part of the king’s own coffers. “I will return to Dunfermline with the king.”
“As ye should.”
“I thought I failed him, and Mama.” Julia glanced back toward the bed, willing her mother to open her eyes, but she slept on peacefully.
“They are both safe because of ye. The country is too, and they dinna even know it.” Ronan Sutherland held her at arm’s length, and caught her stare, searching out her face for answers. “Who is Sir Alistair?”
Julia blinked, forgetting that her father did not know him, and that she’d mentioned him at all. “He is the Earl of Moray’s personal guard, and protector of the king as well. We made this journey together. He helped me save the king. He saved me, too. I owe him my loyalty and life.”
Her father chuckled. “Ah, I had hoped for something else.”
Julia bit her tongue. After what had just happened, she knew now that she could never marry Alistair. Not if there was ever going to be the possibility that she might be able to take over his mind the way she just had with Melia. She’d never be able to forgive herself, and she wouldn’t allow him to forgive her if she did.
“Nothing more,” she said, unable to hide the hint of sadness in her voice, or the cracking sound of her heart breaking.
10
Alistair’s palms were sweating. His palms never sweated. Well, not until he’d met Ju
lia. What was it about this lass that made him nervous? Had him questioning his self-confidence and the affect he had on women?
For certes, he knew she wanted him. She’d told him. She’d even said she’d marry him.
But there was something else he wanted from her—and it wasn’t just the physical things he desired. He needed to tell her what was weighing heavily on his mind.
Alistair reached up to knock on the door, but it opened swiftly before he got a chance. The sight of her stilled his heart. Julia stood in her thin nightrail, long fiery golden locks falling down her back in waves. The lights from her candle and the hearth shined around her, giving her an angelic look at the same time it allowed a little too much to be revealed through her barely there gown. An angel and a vixen all at once.
“Did ye hear me… thinking?” he asked, eyebrow raised, feeling a hint of heat in his cheeks.
“Not in the way ye think.” She slid her dagger from behind the door, where she’d been hiding it, and gave him a sheepish grin. “I just heard someone lurking. I didna realize it was ye.”
“Do ye always answer your door with a weapon?”
Julia shrugged, then reached forward with her dagger-less hand and tugged him inside.
“Where is the king?” she asked.
“Asleep with the men in the barracks. Merida is guarding him, along with his new pup, Robbie.”
Julia grinned. “He’s a sweet lad.”
“Aye. But, that is not the reason I’ve come.”
Julia licked her lips, eyes darting around his face in a panic. “Before ye say anything, I must tell ye that I canna marry ye, Alistair.”
Sorrow filled her voice, and he could see her struggling, the muscles in her body tensing as she backed away from him. He tried to ignore the sharp pang to his chest that her words gave him.
“I wasna lying when I told ye that I wanted to,” she continued, leaning the dagger against the wall by her door. “But, after what happened earlier today, I canna attach myself to anyone. The power that I have… ’tis too great. I couldna live with myself if I were able to bend your will to mine.”
She explained to him what had happened in her mother’s chamber, confirming what he’d heard from the men who’d not been able to stop talking about it all evening.
Alistair reached for her, and when she tried to back away, he thought about letting her, remembering when she’d told him when they first met that if she wanted him to touch her, she’d ask. But he couldn’t let her just back away from what they had. Couldn’t let her deny the feelings he’d seen in her eyes, the feelings he felt keenly in his heart.
“I came here to tell ye that I love ye. That I dinna want to wait to make ye mine. I dinna care that ye can read minds. Or that ye’re afraid one day ye might control mine. Already ye’ve got me under your spell. And it’s an enchantment I want, love. Do ye nae see? I’d lay down my life for ye, and I’d give up the ability to think on my own completely if it meant that ye would be my wife, for I know that with ye by my side, the rest of my days would be complete with happiness.”
Anguish wrecked her features. “But I dinna want to control ye. I like who ye are, I love ye, too, and that is why I canna do that to ye.”
Alistair shook his head, and this time he did grasp her hands, and she didn’t pull away but stepped closer, hope shining in her eyes.
“We’ll work together to harness the gift ye’ve been given. To bring it out when needed and put it away when not. Together, remember? Ye and me.”
Julia swallowed, the tender knot of her throat bobbing, and he wanted more than anything to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair.
She gazed up at him, vulnerability plain in the curves of her face and the glittering of her tear-filling eyes. “Are ye certain?”
“More than I’ve ever been certain of anything in my life.”
“And if I turn into… her?”
He knew exactly whom she meant by her. That vile wench who’d tormented them the past sennight and more. “Ye could never be her.”
“But if I am, will ye lock me away and throw away the key?” Shining gray eyes searched his.
“Nay.” Alistair was firmly in denial that he could ever do anything to harm her, even if she was threatening to take over his entire intellect.
“Then I canna marry ye.” Julia backed away, shaking her head.
But Alistair tugged her back. “Fine, if I agree that, should ye become an evil murderess, I’ll lock ye away, will ye marry me?”
A wide, satisfied grin spread over her face. “Aye!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight, and he was then able to bury his face in her sweet-smelling hair as he’d wanted to.
Alistair lifted her up and twirled her about the room. “On the morrow, I’ll ask your father, and we’ll be wed.”
“On the morrow.” Her eyes grew heavy-lidded and a wicked grin covered her lips. “But tonight… tonight ye shall be mine.”
Alistair stared at her in shock, fairly certain of what she was inviting him to do. “I canna. ’Twouldna be right.”
“We plan to marry, aye?”
“Aye?”
“Then why is it not right?” She nuzzled his nose with hers. “I am your wife. Ye are my husband. There, I’ve said it, and now ’tis true. Take me to bed, so we might finish what we started by the loch.”
How could he argue with that?
Alistair carried his almost-wife to the bed and laid her out on it, staring down at the dusky pink of her nipples beneath the creamy white of her nightrail, followed by the dip where her navel was, and the fiery curls that shadowed the fabric between her legs.
“Ye’re so beautiful. Like a breath of fresh air in a smoking building, or the first rays of sun on a frozen earth.”
She smiled up at him, let out a soft laugh. “Ye’ve become a poet.”
Alistair unpinned his plaid and unbuckled his belt, letting the fabric of his plaid fall, leaving him only in a shirt. “I only say what I see.”
“And your body says the rest.” Her eyes were on the part of him that swelled with hunger for her.
He lay down on the bed beside her, leaning up on his elbow, much like he had beside the loch. She lifted her knee toward his hip and tucked herself closer. “Dinna make me wait.”
“Have ye…?”
“Aye. Once, a long time ago.” Julia told him of her marriage. How it had not lasted more than a night before her husband was killed in a raid. She told him how she’d cared for the man, but that their marriage had been one of convenience. That Alistair was the first man she’d truly been in love with.
Alistair breathed out a sigh of relief, not just that she’d only been married before out of convenience, but that she was not a virgin. If this had been her first time, he was afraid she would not have enjoyed it. But knowing that the barrier had been broken by another before him, did not leave him with a sense of jealousy at all for the man who’d claimed it, but instead with a sense of gratitude, because that meant tonight, she would feel only pleasure.
Julia leaned up, capturing the back of his head with her hand and tugging him to meet her lips halfway. She kissed him deeply, hungrily, thoroughly. His almost-wife was full of a passion that matched his own.
He stroked the length of her legs, skimming the nightrail up until his fingers touched the bare skin of her leg, and then her hip. She gasped into his mouth and made a crooning sound that drove him wild.
“What’s this?” He traced his finger over a birthmark on her hip that looked a hell of a lot like a dagger.
“A birthmark,” she said.
“A dagger.”
Julia grinned and pressed her finger to his chin, tipping him back up for another kiss. “Aye, a dagger, marking me as a protector.”
“Ye never cease to amaze me, love.” Was she confessing to him that the mark had something to do with her power? What had happened at the loch? He could have contemplated it more, but at the moment, he did not want to. Instead, he
wanted to love her. To sink inside her.
Alistair slid his mouth from her lips to tease the points of her breasts through her nightrail that jutted with clear need for attention. He swirled his tongue around the tips, and reveled in the arch of her back and her guttural moan of pleasure.
Julia’s hands thrust into his hair, tugging hard in a silent demand for more. Alistair answered with a growl under his breath. He wrenched the gown from her body and stared down at the creamy perfection of her skin. The sight of her was too much not to taste, and he lowered his head to gently nibble some more at her delicious nipples.
As he licked at the taut peaks, his fingers danced their way over her hip, her belly, to slide tentatively over the warm heat of her center. Mo chreach, but she was incredibly hot, like fire, and so unbelievably slick. He stroked over the nub of her pleasure, and she moaned, bucking her hips forward.
“I want to feel ye on my skin,” she said, pulling his shirt up his back and over his head. She splayed her hands across the expanse of his back. Och, how he loved that she touched him, explored him.
Alistair continued to stroke between her thighs, and her moans and gasps increased, along with the frantic rocking of her hips. She was going to find her release on his fingers, and that knowledge made him all the hotter. It took only a few more swirling strokes of his fingers before she was crying out, her thighs clamping against his hand, and her entire body shook.
“That’s it,” he grinned against her breast, sucking her nipple a little harder to drag out the pleasure.
“Oh, Alistair, my love,” she crooned.
God, he loved her. So damn much. The emotion of it consumed him, made him shake a little as he leaned up to take her mouth once more. “I love ye, sweet lass,” he said against her mouth.
“I love ye, too,” she answered back, pressing her hands to his cheeks and gazing deep into his eyes. “I never thought I could feel this way.”
“I am honored to be the one ye bestow it upon.”
He kissed his way back toward her lush breasts, and then lower, over the plane of her belly, the curve of her hip. Her feminine scent teased his senses, made his mouth water.