Her Warrior Slave

by Michelle Willingham

  Caitleen gripped her hands. ‘I did what I thought was best.’

  Iseult was shaking. She struggled to cool her emotions, but right now she couldn’t breathe from the anger inside.

  ‘I don’t wish to see you again,’ she said at last. Turning her back, she pushed her way out the door.

  ‘Iseult!’ her father called out.

  ‘I am leaving with Kieran,’ she said, ‘to find my son.’ She turned her gaze to his. ‘I won’t be returning here.’

  The sympathy on Rory’s face was genuine. ‘I didn’t know what she’d done,’ he said. ‘Believe me, daughter.’

  She did. The ageing planes of his face showed his sincerity, but, more than that, she knew her father would never do anything to hurt her.

  ‘Be well, my father.’

  She raised her brat over her head, clasping it beneath her chin with one hand. The wind whipped at her face while she returned to the blacksmith’s hut, barely holding herself together. Her own mother. After all this time.

  When she found Kieran waiting, she walked into his arms. Only then did she release the anguish inside her, needing his strength. Ragged sobs tore from her throat, the disappointment in her mother. And in herself for not seeing the truth sooner.

  He reached out and brushed a tear away, framing her face with his palms. ‘I am sorry for causing you such pain, a mhuirnín.’

  ‘You can’t know what it is to lose a child,’ she accused, retreating from his embrace. Nothing compared to the fierce loss, nor the gaping hole inside her heart.

  ‘I know what it is to lose a brother. A brother I should have protected.’

  It wasn’t the same, not at all. And yet, it was the first time he had ever offered anything about his past. She sensed the heaviness in his voice, the reluctance to speak of it as he pulled away. She sat down, pulling her knees up while he picked up a cup of wine. ‘What happened to your brother?’

  Kieran drank, as if gathering strength from the cup. ‘It was late winter. Our harvest was poor, and there wasn’t enough food to last everyone. So many of them starved to death.’

  He held out his hand to her, and she took it. The warmth of his palm caressed hers, offering comfort even as he relayed his own suffering. ‘We couldn’t bury those who died. The ground was too frozen.’ He lowered his gaze, still holding her hands. ‘We lost four men, eight women and seven children last winter.’

  Iseult moved closer, leaning against him. ‘What of your own family?’

  ‘We had few provisions, the same as the others. Sometimes I gave my share of food to my sisters, or to Egan, my brother. They were younger. Not as strong.

  ‘Then the raiders came. Lochlannachs, like the ones we fought here. They plundered our supplies, stealing our grain and setting fire to our homes. I fought alongside my father and my uncles. But we hadn’t the strength to stop them.’

  ‘Did your brother Egan die in the battle?’

  Kieran’s face grew grave. ‘I wish he had. It would have been more merciful.’ He shook his head. ‘They took him, along with my sisters and a few of the others. Planning to sell them as slaves or keep them as hostages, I suppose.’

  His hand moved through her hair idly as he spoke. ‘I fought for my sisters, and saved them from captivity. The raiders left with Egan.’

  The back of his hand rested upon her nape. The touch of his skin seemed to burn against her, sparking feelings she wanted to deny.

  ‘I followed them to their camp alone. I offered to trade myself into slavery, thinking they would let my brother go.’ He shook his head. ‘I was stupid to believe they would accept my bargain. Arrogant to think that my fighting strength was worth more than my brother’s life.’ He met her gaze with such fury, such pain, she wanted to weep for him.

  ‘What did they do to him?’

  He expelled a mocking laugh. ‘They agreed to my bargain. And when they went to cut his ropes, they slit his throat instead. I watched him die in front of me. They sent a bag of grain to my father, in exchange for both of us.’

  She couldn’t imagine such a horror. But she recognised his pain, as deep as her own. She almost said, It wasn’t your fault. The words stilled upon her lips, for she knew his guilt as surely as she had believed herself responsible for not protecting Aidan.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Her hands moved around his neck, and she kissed him, offering comfort in the best way she knew how.

  He returned the kiss, his mouth gentle against hers. No longer the fierce, forbidden embrace, but instead his touch assuaged her grief. The tenderness moved her in a way nothing else had.

  Kieran raised her to stand before him, never ceasing the kiss. In his arms, she leaned against him while her skin felt unbearably hot, her lips almost numb from kissing him. She needed more, craved his body upon hers.

  He pulled back, his eyes dark with passion. ‘Did Davin touch you on Bealtaine?’

  ‘No.’ Her blood raced within her skin at Kieran’s jealousy, her breasts tightening. Her gown felt confining, the sensitive tips erect from the rough fabric. Staring into his eyes, she spoke the truth. ‘I wanted no man but you.’

  To prove it, she reached up and loosened the ties of his tunic. He pulled it over his head, revealing golden skin and taut muscles. No longer did he have the gaunt appearance of hunger. Instead, he held a subdued strength. Iseult palmed his torso, pressing kisses against his neck.

  Kieran’s self-control was about to snap. The scent of her surrounded him. Like wild honey, he craved the taste of her. She enslaved him with invisible chains of need.

  ‘Iseult,’ he breathed, kissing her palms, ‘is this what you want?’ He wanted nothing but honesty between them. ‘I am a man without a tribe. There is nothing I can give you. No home, no future.’

  She moved so close, the rigid tips of her breasts brushed against his chest. He ached with the sweet torment, exhaling sharply.

  ‘Then give me yourself,’ she whispered. ‘It will be enough.’

  Slowly, she unbound her overdress and léine, sliding the clothing from her shoulders until she stood bare before him. Her skin appeared creamy in the summer night, her reddish-gold hair falling in waves down to curved hips. Rounded breasts held firm, erect nipples that he longed to touch.

  Her mouth touched his, and he was completely lost. He kissed her with reverence, wanting her to know how she humbled him.

  He didn’t deserve her, couldn’t possibly become the man she wanted him to be. And yet somehow none of it mattered this night.

  There was no pallet to lay her upon, so he arranged their garments into a soft pile. She knelt beside him, drawing him upon her body.

  ‘Kiss me again,’ she ordered.

  He did, releasing the hunger that flared up inside. His body ached with the need to sheathe himself inside her, but he wanted to fulfil every dream she’d ever had. With his mouth, he kissed every part of her skin, circling her breast with his tongue. When he reached the hardened nipple, he bit it gently, teasing her until she shivered.

  His hand moved between her thighs, coaxing her to open for him. The wetness that met his touch made him groan. Instinctively, she moved against his hand, and he slipped a finger inside. A shuddering gasp released from her mouth.

  ‘Kieran,’ she whispered, palming his hips as he moved his length against her. She closed her eyes, trying to pull him closer.

  ‘We have all night,’ he promised. He tasted the warm skin of her ribcage, moving down her stomach. When he raised her knees up, she shivered. Vulnerable and exposed to him.

  ‘You won’t think of anything else but this.’ He lowered his mouth to taste her woman’s flesh, and Iseult’s breath came in ragged gasps. With his tongue, he moved against the most sensitive part of her body, stroking it until she moaned.

  Belenus, but he wanted to watch her shatter. He licked her sensitive flesh, tasting the honey of her womanhood while rubbing the tips of her breasts with his thumb and forefingers. She moved against him, her body reaching for the release he wanted to give
.

  Mine. The word echoed within him, the impossible need to possess her. He no longer cared that it was wrong to become her lover, to steal away her very breath and heart. He needed this. By God, he would mark her until she would never again make love to a man without remembering him.

  When he sucked hard against her swollen folds, she cried out. Wild shudders racked her body, as she rode the wave of pleasure.

  She opened her eyes, her skin flushed and ready for him. ‘My turn.’

  Sweet God. Though he hadn’t intended it, she took his erection into her slender fingers. Squeezing his length, she caressed him, rubbing her thumb over the tip. He was helpless to do anything but obey her, his own body consumed by cravings. She laid him back on to the clothing, straddling his waist.

  ‘When you were a slave, I imagined this.’ She kissed his throat, her hands stroking his chest. With her hands, she trapped his wrists away from his body.

  ‘I am still your slave.’ Not a lie. He’d do anything for her, and the sweet torment only inspired a greater desire. Kieran leaned up to her breast, hanging in front of his mouth like a ripe fruit. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he used his mouth to pleasure her.

  But she turned the sensations back upon him when she sheathed his manhood inside her wetness. Kieran gripped her hips, groaning at the feel of her body caressing him. Every inch of him strained at the warmth of her. He nearly lost control at that very second, for she was better than anything he’d ever dreamed of.

  When she moved against him, he grew harder. Her hair slid over her shoulders, tickling his skin as she rose up and then sheathed herself again. It was like dying slowly, and he revelled in every moment of it. He lifted her, increasing the tempo until he touched her very core.

  As if he could touch her heart.

  Iseult cried out at the friction, riding him as he pulled her hips against his. Her body squeezed him, as she found another release, pulling against him with another flood of moisture.

  He needed more. Rolling her over, he drove himself inside, trying with each stroke to brand her as his. Though never could she truly belong to him, he didn’t want her to ever forget what there was between them.

  She tightened her legs around his waist, her breath hitching as she met him stroke for stroke. When her mouth met his once more in a fierce kiss of possession, he spilled himself inside her. The aftershocks pulsed through him, his body trembling.

  He lay upon her, silent. Neither spoke, though Iseult pressed a kiss upon his chest. The fire crackled upon the hearth, a stark glow against the starlight. He caressed her hip, reluctantly withdrawing from inside her body.

  Iseult wrapped her arms around his neck. Against his chest he could feel her bare breasts, and the sensation stirred him. She touched his face, her eyes turning serious. ‘After we find Aidan, where will you go?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You still will not return to your family?’

  ‘I can’t.’ He couldn’t face them, not after what had happened to Egan. ‘And they won’t want to see me.’

  ‘Do they know about your brother?’

  ‘They know. And I’ve no wish to see them because of it.’

  She sat up, caressing her hand over his chest. ‘And so now your mother has lost both of her sons.’

  ‘She has her daughters to comfort her,’ he argued.

  ‘Until they leave and marry.’ She withdrew her hand from his skin. He twined his fingers in hers, needing to touch her.

  ‘I think your mother would welcome your homecoming,’ she continued. ‘Why not give it a chance?’

  He shook his head. She didn’t understand what it would be like. His people had suffered a great deal, and he preferred to leave the past behind.

  ‘Were you the chieftain’s son?’ she asked.

  ‘I was.’ And for that reason, his shame went even deeper. The people had expected him to become their leader one day. He shouldered the burden for each life that was lost, for it was a chieftain’s duty to provide for everyone.

  He’d seen his father Marcas sitting alone and staring out at the devastating rot upon the fields. The bleakness in Marcas’s eyes made him wish he could do something to help.

  Iseult drew her knees up, her face pensive. ‘I thought as much. You never did act like a slave.’ Her lips curved upwards. ‘I believed you were a warrior.’ She reached out and touched his arm, using both palms to encircle the thick muscle.

  Though it seemed impossible, his body was already stirring to life at her caress. ‘I could fight as well as the next man,’ he admitted. ‘But my father wanted me to lead them.’

  ‘Is your father still alive?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ His father had raged at him when Kieran had gone after Egan, threatening to cut him off. Muttered curses had been the last farewell he’d heard. The curses had worked, judging from the kind of life he’d led in the past season.

  Iseult didn’t ask him anything further, and he was grateful for it. ‘What happened after I left you with Davin?’ he asked.

  ‘I came here.’

  ‘And Davin let you go?’

  ‘I slipped out alone, before dawn.’ She reached out and donned her léine. ‘Only Deena knew where I was.’

  The idea of Iseult travelling alone stopped him cold. She could have been attacked or hurt. Even stolen away, had the Lochlannachs found her.

  She knelt down with her feet hidden beneath the gown, looking as innocent as a child. Against the light of the hearth, her hair turned fiery red. Gods, she took his breath away. Why she wanted a man like him, he’d never understand.

  ‘Don’t go back to Lismanagh,’ he warned. Rising to his feet, he donned his trews. With both of them clothed, the intimacy disappeared.

  ‘I won’t,’ she promised. Then she stood and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his chest. Kieran gripped her so hard, it felt as though he were saying goodbye to her once again.

  ‘We’ll find Aidan,’ he said. ‘No matter how long it takes.’ He meant the vow. He wanted to give her that gift, to see the joy upon her face.

  Iseult pressed a soft kiss upon his mouth, and he held her close, wondering how he would ever find the strength to let her go again.

  They rode for most of the morning in silence. During the journey, Iseult emptied her mind of everything, trying hard not to let herself hope. But she thought of her baby son, wondering if he would still remember her. If Aidan saw her, would he run away crying? Her throat clenched up with unshed tears. It was almost worse, not knowing if he were truly alive or not.

  Kieran led them further east, towards the midlands where the mountains evolved into hills. She had never travelled this far before, and the unfamiliarity made her uneasy. Sheep grazed throughout the meadows, with only an occasional abbey or tiny rath to mark the landscape.

  At midday, they stopped to eat. Iseult dismounted from her horse, reaching towards the provisions for food. She struggled to untie the sack, and Kieran came up behind her, his hands covering hers upon the knots.

  ‘Let me.’

  She should have moved aside to give him better access. Instead, she stayed where she was, her body attuned to his. She felt the warmth of his skin behind her, the faint smell of wood surrounding him. He untied the knots, his arms embracing her waist. When the rope fell free, Iseult turned towards him. Her palms rested against his torso, and she lifted her face to his.

  ‘We’ll be there in a few hours more,’ he said. His brown eyes watched her with unspoken need. And yet, he didn’t touch her.

  Move away, Iseult. The more time she spent with Kieran, the more her defences dissolved. No matter how badly she wanted him, he wasn’t a man with a future to give her. It wasn’t wise to let herself love him.

  She leaned her head against his broad chest, and his breath rose upon her nape. He was unravelling her sensibilities, taking her sense of reason apart. He was going to leave, but they had these last few days together. Was there harm in actin
g upon her desires?

  His hand caressed the side of her face, a dark hunger rising in his eyes. ‘Was there something else you needed?’

  I need you.

  She didn’t speak, letting her actions answer for her. Her hands moved beneath his tunic, touching his bare skin. She traced rigid muscles and a scar that ran across his ribs. Raising herself up on her tiptoes, she touched her lips to his.

  His mouth covered hers, kissing her with unsuppressed heat. Work-roughened hands caressed her waist, sliding down her skirts to touch her thigh. Slowly, intimately, he slid his palms over her bottom, bringing her close to him.

  Iseult wound her arms around his neck, her body melting against the feeling of his hands upon her. He kissed her again, his tongue invading her mouth the way his body had joined with hers the night before.

  ‘I wasn’t going to touch you,’ he whispered, his mouth moving over her skin.

  ‘I know,’ she replied, shivering when his hands slid up her thigh and towards the place where she wanted him most. She moaned when his fingers rubbed the fabric of her gown against the nub of her womanhood. ‘But I wanted you to.’

  One last, stolen moment. A chance to be with him before she could remember all of the reasons why they shouldn’t be together.

  His kiss became wild, a tangle of tongues and lips. Like a craving, she couldn’t get enough of him.

  ‘I shouldn’t do this, either.’ He unfastened his trews and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. A moment later, he penetrated her, and she cried out at the sensation of him stretching her. Her breasts swelled, the nipples tightening as he plunged deep inside.

  His mouth ravaged hers, and all the while he kept up a steady rhythm, pumping inside her. Desire built up so tightly, she clutched at the back of his hair.

  He slowed down suddenly, watching her with hooded eyes. Lifting her slowly, she felt every inch of him before he filled her again. It was torment and heaven at the same time.

  Grinding her hips against him, she tried to make him increase the tempo, but instead he impaled her with such lingering strokes, she bit her lips to keep from crying out.