by C. D. Gorri
Lust and longing raced through Eoghan’s blood, and something more. A sort of heightened awareness of the lady in front of him, a tightening in his gut. It was a heady and strong feeling though he could not give it a name. The lightness in the atmosphere soon gave way to a dangerous sort of tension.
He leaned in closer, anticipation building up inside of him like steam in a kettle. He was just about ready to burst when she raised a slender hand and placed it gently on his chest. The light brush of her fingers on that part of his body revealed from the open ties of his soaked leine sent lightning shooting all through his body.
His breath came heavier now as his chest tightened in response to her light touch. In his mind’s eye, he pictured her supple form moving wildly beneath him as he penetrated her soft velvet core over and over again. He could almost hear her groans and taste her honey on his tongue.
“I’ll have an answer, lady.”
“I know not how to answer thee, sir, soon I must leave and tis likely I’ll not see ye again.”
“Aye, but sweet lass, right now, we both are here in the wood, alone, in the rain, and Heaven’s love is shining down on us right in this moment.”
“It makes me sad, sir, for we have no time, all would be over before it even started.”
Her softly spoken words touched him like a warm caress. Eoghan’s heart thumped wildly in his chest for it meant she felt the attraction between them as did he. Perhaps there was hope then.
“Nay, my lady, tis not over yet. I shall continue to hold you here till I have had my fill of ye.”
“I am not free. Ye must leave me as I am.”
Eoghan felt his beast growl at the thought of who stood to gain this maid for a wife. He wanted to hunt down his rival and tear his throat out with his teeth, but who was he to argue. Eoghan himself was betrothed.
“This is all the time we have, lady, will ye not succumb?”
He took the maid by her chin and forced her eyes up to his. What he saw there reflected in her eyes were feelings as intense as his own. He stood a hair’s breath away from her, the pounding inside her chest audible to his supernatural ears.
“I am promised-”
“Damn the man who claims ye as his. He may have rights to yer future, lady, but yer present, here and now, is mine!”
Eoghan wrapped the lass close to his chest. The feel of her pressed against him sizzled through his body like a burning flame. There was no denying the intensity of his desire for her.
He bent his head and kissed her lips with all the pent-up passion he had inside of him. It was like being caught in the eye of the storm. Everything else faded away.
Deafening silence filled his ears as he tasted the sweet saltiness of her mouth. He growled deep inside his chest when she pressed herself more fully against him.
She sighed into the kiss, allowing him better access to her mouth. Enchanting. She wound her hands through his wet locks and held on as he delved inside of her heated mouth without fear or guile. No pretense or illusions. Nay, no lying or falseness here, his Wolf felt the honesty that made up her very being.
Wanton thoughts of lust and desire filled his brain, but there was more to it as well. Something familiar about her, though he could not place it.
There was a freshness and tenderness there, but also something powerful and raw. He pressed his hardened arousal against her hips, expecting her to swoon, but she didn’t move away. She was fierce in her stance, meeting him stroke for stroke with tongue, lips, and teeth. I must have her.
Her breath was fresh and sweet, her body sumptuous, and her response intoxicating as he dove headfirst into her embrace. The rain that fell on them trickled down to a stop. A thick fog began to rise from the ground, losing their feet and legs in the misty whiteness.
Huge droplets of rain clung to his clothes, hair, and eyelashes, but he cared not. He was lost in their kiss. Longing threatened to consume him. He wanted to throw her down on the muddied ground and bury himself inside of her.
“I am mad for you, lady, wilt thou have me?”
“Sir? I, I-”
The temptation to take her right then and there was almost too much for him. He dipped his head to take her lips once more, determined to claim this maid, but the call of his man, Kelly, brought him back to reality. Far too soon.
“Tis finished, my lord! We are set to break camp! My lord, the fog grows thick, where art thou?!”
His Wolf growled in his mind’s eye, take her, claim her as mate. He wanted too, sure as he needed to breathe air. The stomping footsteps of his men through the wood were getting closer and he’d not have her in front of an audience.
“Halt! I shall come to you!” Eoghan ended the kiss and called out to his men.
Glazed blue eyes met his dark ones. Funny, he thought, her eyes are blue as are mine when I am Wolf. Mine, the growled word reverberated through his head.
Perhaps he could bring her home with him, take her as his mistress? Even as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. She was not made to be a man’s mistress and he could not live a lie.
While he was pondering the situation, the maiden raised a hand to her mouth. For some reason, the astonishment on her face was nearly his undoing.
Before he could speak, before he could put words to the tumultuous feelings inside of him, the lass reached out a trembling hand and brushed it across his face. Then she grabbed her sodden skirts and ran through the mist.
“There you are, my lord,” Tom Kelly walked up to him and tried to look to see what it was Eoghan was so intent on.
There was, fortunately, nothing there. Not even a trace of her in the fog. She was gone.
The Wolf in him demanded he make chase, the man ran his hands through his hair and stood there powerless.
“I let her go.”
“Who, my lord?”
“Her, Kelly.”
CHAPTER 1
Three weeks later…
“I am Chief of the Name, Alpha of the Greyback, and I am also yer father! Ye will marry the Lady Dungannon!”
“Nay, I will marry none but the maid from the wood, father! Especially not some long-toothed pup for the sake of alliance!”
“The girl has but nineteen summers and that maid was naught but yer imagination! None of yer men saw the lass!”
“That many years and Dungannon’s daughter has not wed nor received proposal? She must be some scabbed cur or slow of wit, either way she will not do for me. My sight is on the other.”
“Ye will marry because I command it. Yer sight? Yer sight, indeed! Yer men take ye for a fool or perhaps bespelled! I had to assure them ye had been examined by Fr. Martin! The lass is of high birth and is a normal to boot! Now, obey, pup of mine, or doth ye challenge yer father and Alpha?” The first Eoghan MacContire stood his full height and flashed his eyes at his son.
“By my oath, I will do as you command if I can not find the lady, but father, I don’t want to give up my search yet. If she be the one, my matebond, then I shall not lose my freedom to another! Please-”
“God’s blood, boy, I’ll not say it again.”
Power laced the words of Eoghan’s father and forced the younger Wolf to avert his eyes. Anger and defiance refused to allow him to stoop his shoulders or bow his head, but he knew better than to stare down the man who was both his Alpha and sire.
He wanted more from life than to be a pawn for the Pack. He wanted adventure. He wanted to explore new worlds. And yes, he wanted to find the lass from the woods, to see if she was his heart’s true desire. Mine own true mate.
Anyway, the Dungannon lass was more Brit than Irish! What care he is she be normal or Wolf or cat even? How could his father think she’d do for him?
The entire North of Ireland hated all things English. He had a special loathing for all who were favored by Bess including the bastard Raleigh for the lands he took and the Irish blood he spilled for his Virgin Queen.
Of course, he admitted to himself, he did admire the Queen’s favor
ite for his ability to sail across the world and step on land untouched by corruption and greed. Eoghan would love to see the New World. To bring his father’s Wolves there, to expand their territory, but his da would not hear of it. As he would not hear tales of Eoghan’s maiden.
His father insisted their future was there, on Irish soil. Eoghan’s shoulder’s slumped. A wife. What would he do with a wife, especially one he did not love?
He’d have to give up the life he’d dreamt for himself. It was almost more than he could bear. The low growl emanating from his father’s chest weighed down on him. The power of the Alpha demanded he get down on his knees in submission, but Eoghan fought back the urge. He was too angry to play the penitent child.
He kept his spine straight. His face a mask. Werewolves were too attuned to body language for him to let his guard down. He didn’t want his father to guess what he was thinking. Nay, that would not do.
He inhaled steady breaths and wished he hadn’t pulled his pale blonde hair back from his face that morning. If it was loose least he could run his hands through it and not stand there clenching his fists. His father hated that he kept his hair long.
Twas not the popular hairstyle for young men of rank in society, but within the Pack, many a male allowed his hair to grow beyond the current fashion. Either way, it was his singular way of defying his father who preferred his sons to wear the trim hair of a monk.
His brother Lyall cut his hair in compliance with their da’s wishes, but not he. He recalled many a maid who preferred his silky platinum locks to his brother’s short, dark hair.
He hadn’t even looked at a wench in weeks. These days, he found he could not without comparing her to his wood nymph. The image of her standing in her wet dress, arms wide twirling about in the stream on the day of that battle against the Dark Ones was ingrained in his memory.
Indeed, she haunted his dreams. Her pale skin and long hair, especially the taste of her. By God’s eyes, he wanted her more for the time they had spent apart. He could still see her startling blue eyes gazing up at him from where her perfect form clung tightly to him. His body grew hard just thinking of her. God’s truth, she must be my mate.
Did she think of him? Did she think him attractive or enticing? His mother had called him fair many a time when she was alive. He had chiseled features, fair skin, pink lips, and a tall lean body roped with muscle and designed for speed and agility. Even his beard was flaxen.
Oddly enough, his Wolf was pure black except for one white forepaw, and where his eyes were dark as a man, they glowed ice blue as Wolf. Still pretty, however, that much was true. He inherited his silvery pale locks from his blessed mother.
He felt foolish for thinking of a wench he’d never see again in the face of his da’s misery. His heart still ached at the thought of his ma’s poor soul. She departed this world not a month passed.
She was a normal and as such was susceptible to human illness. She suffered from a disease of the lungs. Seeing her in pain was almost too much for him to bear, but he was a good son and he stayed by her side. As did his father.
His father who stood before him now angry as a, well, as a Wolf. Eoghan regretted that he was the cause of his ire. He respected his da. Loved him even. But how could he heed his command? Especially having seen the torment and pain his da went through at the loss of his mother.
Eoghan wondered if he would be able to stand the pain of losing a wife to such torture as his father had done. Marriage? No. How could he marry one when his dreams were consumed by another?
“The wedding will proceed.”
“Nay, da!”
“It is done!”
Ever since his mother’s death, his father was over-worried with seeing his eldest son married. Eoghan looked at his father, he was not the smiling da of his youth. Nay, gray and silver streaks shone in his hair where they never were before. Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and heavy, dark circles ringed them, telling of his pain and sleepless nights.
“Father, perhaps if you rested some you would come to see my side of it-”
“Enough! You will marry the Dungannon lass as was promised. What kind of man would break an oath such as this, son? Are you asking me to be liar and coward?”
“No, sir, of course Not, I just-”
A servant entered the room with parchment in hand. He was out of breath. The smell of human sweat and dirt filled Eoghan’s nostrils. He was a messenger, one of those trusted to present to his da, Chief of the name to all normals in the village. He bowed and handed the rolled paper to Eoghan’s father.
The interruption gave Eoghan time to think. Tis true, a bond was made, he admitted silently. He was betrothed to the Dungannon’s daughter before he went to fight that battle in the woods. The one that had changed his life.
The facts were against him, but he left his heart in the woods that day. He would be a liar if he wed another. But how did he tell his da? Twas hopeless to argue for love. Loyalty and duty were paramount.
He had to make him see they had no need to adhere to some backward tradition that forced marriage between strangers. And for what? Land? Silver? Weapons? Meat? Tis not the price of his freedom worth far more than that? He wanted to choose his mate, to explore the brave New World, and to claim a piece of it for the Pack.
His Pack, the Greyback, was plenty wealthy. They had land, cattle, pigs, and bountiful fields of grain. They’d recently started cultivating a crop of potatoes that hailed from the New World.
They could feed their people through the next ten winters without aid. He had no need for that trifle of a dowry the Dungannon had sent with his man. It was a damned pittance!
“Da, you know the Dungannon insults us with that lowly dowry. The lands and money were not what was promised, tis a breach of contract, sir-”
“The dowry is of no import.”
“But da-”
“Son, land and money are not the entirety of it. The Dungannon clan holds sway with Britain and the lords of the Virgin Queen. Tis necessary to protect the Hounds!”
It was true then, just as Eoghan had feared. This match was not personal. Dungannon’s influence in England was what they, the Greyback, with their roots in the Catholic Church and their vows to the Hounds of God, did greatly need. It was a dangerous time for Catholics in Britannia. All the more dangerous for Werewolves who worked for the Church.
No matter how great the deed, no matter how many times the Hounds saved mankind, they were the rivals of many in Britain simply because of their faith. Their strong ties to Rome made them the enemy of the Queen.
The Dungannon, though raised a Catholic, had since converted to Protestant when he took his English wife. Eoghan had no love for the English, but as far as faith was concerned his attitude was, more or less, to each his own.
He was proud to be Catholic. Proud to be associated with the Hounds of God. His duty was to ensure the flourishment of not only Werewolves, but normals too. And what of his wife-to-be? She was half-English, probably Protestant too. Would she look down on him and his Catholic faith?
He would not care either way what religion his wife kept, as long as he loved the lady. But he did not love this maid. He did not even know her. That was the whole of it.
If he needs choose a wife then why not the lady of the wood? Were she the lass he was to wed, then by God, he’d dance all the way down the aisle! He’d take her to wife without hesitation!
A beautiful normal like her would bear many a fine son, no doubt! She was luscious and lively. Definitely fit for the kinds of adventures he had in mind.
He’d never thought about it much before, but many Werewolves preferred normals to wife. Some Packs were strict about that kind of thing. Female Wolves were mostly kept quiet and out of sight. Never was there a highborn lass who was she-Wolf to his knowledge.
Though how they managed that, he did not know. Mayhaps it came from wedding and breeding with so many normals. Either way, he wanted no part of the Dungannon’s daughter.
He was a skilled and trained warrior of his Pack. That would not cease upon taking his vows. Eoghan’s life was fraught with danger.
He was responsible for sending many a Demon back to Hell. And all for a world that would never know his sacrifice. Still, he could protect his own. That much, he was sure of.
“The contract is signed by the Dungannon. There is naught to be done by yer whining here. Now leave me or, by yer sainted mother, I will deliver my wrath upon yer head the likes of which you have never seen.”
“The Dungannon has neglected the terms of the contract! He’s sent not half of what was promised!”
“I know that, son, do ye think me daft? Tis matters not one bit! Ye will meet the Lady Ailis and ye will enter into the handfasting with an honest and loyal heart.”
“But father-”
“That is all. Yer bride comes soon. Ready yerself.”
CHAPTER 2
The hallway that opened to the kitchen stores was doubly wide. It had to be for the cooks and their carts and trays that made their way up and down the path throughout the course of a day. At this hour, however, it was empty, dark, and quiet.
The servants had all gone to bed and the fires had been banked down for the night. Still, it would be just another hour or two before the first wave of kitchen help came to start the morning baking.
They would in turn be followed by another group of servants responsible for the preparation of the vast selection of fowl and game that would be roasted throughout the day. This was the way of such places where hundreds needed to be fed each morning and evening.
Castle MacContire, as the house was affectionately known by members of Greyback Pack and normals in the surrounding villages on their land, was a well-kept stronghold. Indeed, those who knew their truth, called their village Baile na nGascioch Conriochtai, or Village of the Warrior Wolves.