Enslaved by Fear

by Claire Ashgrove

  Enough warning to tell her loud and clear what he meant, but she couldn’t resist teasing. “Or make silly faces in the mirror? Like this?” Crossing her eyes, she stuck her tongue out and puffed her cheeks.

  “Brigid, if you can’t be serious, just forget the whole damn thing.”

  At his exasperation, she sobered. “Forget what? It’s a little hard to be serious when I have no idea what you’re up to.”

  He gave her hands an affectionate squeeze. “We’re leaving these rooms. I want you to promise that while we’re going where we’re going you aren’t going to try and ditch me.”

  Leaving? Escape from these three rooms? Her heart kicked into her ribs. This was even better than she’d imagined—Micah handed her the means of total freedom. She wouldn’t even have to dupe him.

  Well…beyond a little white lie that he should know better than to believe. “Okay. I promise.”

  He eyed her a moment, his disbelief obvious in the speculative light of his stare. Wisely, he didn’t buy into her promise. But would that suspicion prevent him from opening the door?

  Micah’s gaze narrowed, and he let out a sigh. “All right. I’m trusting you, Brigid. Don’t make me regret it.”

  A smidgeon of guilt stabbed into her side. Her smile faltered. Why did he have to use the t-word? Trusting her only made what she had to do that much more difficult. She’d rather he be blinded by something else. Something like desire, so there wasn’t any obvious duplicity.

  Brigid pushed the uncomfortable guilt aside and focused on the more important matter. In less than ten minutes, she would never again stare out the window and wish she could be somewhere else. She’d be able to come and go as she pleased—so long as the castle wasn’t on her list of destinations.

  Damn it. She’d been breaking promises for centuries. Why did her conscience have to object now?

  Micah tucked her hand into his firm grip once more and opened the door. The stairwell loomed before them, cloaked in shadows from the twilight hour. Old gas lanterns flickered from their iron mountings in the wall and created eerie lights across the stone.

  Twenty-eight steps to freedom.

  Gritting her teeth, Brigid followed him to the stairs. Where in the world were they going? Surely Fintan couldn’t know about this—he’d have half his coven lining the steps just to make sure she couldn’t slip free.

  As they descended, she listened for her brother’s voice, for signs that someone other than Micah loomed nearby. But aside from the distant rustle of the household support staff, she recognized nothing. No one watching. No one overseeing whatever Micah had up his sleeve.

  She stole a glance at Micah. His profile revealed heavy concentration, as if he too strained to hear approaching voices. Still, his steps remained confident, his pace swift but unhurried.

  Simple curiosity kept her from jerking to the left and breaking free at the mouth of the grand hall. They were leaving her half of the castle. Entering Fintan’s. Oh, her brother would have fits if he ran into them here. Why had Micah risked Fintan’s wrath? What was the fool man up to with this little field trip? He had to know this was stupidity at its finest. She could overpower his grip on her hand anytime she wanted. He knew this.

  So what on earth, where on earth, were they going?

  His stoic silence kept her from asking.

  He ushered her down the long first floor hall, around a bend that led to the dungeon’s stairwell, and to the heavy, metal-studded door to the east yard. Brigid’s eyes widened as he reached for the oblong handle. Outside. He was taking her outdoors.

  By the ancestors, she could kiss him!

  She would. Right before she dashed away and into the forest. One last kiss to remember him by.

  The cool night air hit her smack in the face as he tugged her outside. She breathed it in with short gasps, close to hyperventilating from the suddenness of it all. Four months of nothing but stale air. Four months of not even so much as a cross-breeze.

  She’d almost forgotten how cold this valley could get at night, this close to the natural springs like it was. Almost.

  Brigid stumbled over freshly laid gravel and glanced down at her feet. Beth had certainly been busy. This must have been the cause for the renovators she’d heard roaming the halls several weeks ago, the hammering and the heavy equipment. Talk about settling in—Beth was making herself right at home.

  As she should be.

  Brigid ignored the voice of reason.

  Micah pulled her to a stop in front of what had once been her favorite summer solace before time caught up to the gazebo and threatened to send it crumbling into dust. Now, where the roof had splintered, it bore sturdy shingles. Where the stacked stone columns leaned at precarious angles, they’d been reinforced and stood straight and proud. As they had two centuries earlier, when she’d taken breakfast here each morning.

  He pushed the door open and nudged her inside. Brigid came to a standstill two feet inside, fighting back an unexpected rush of emotion. His wards dominated the room, marking off the screened-in openings with great care. But instead of erecting the impermeable wall like he did on her windows, he wove the magic within the mesh. Reinforcing it so that it still functioned as designed. The night breeze washed over her skin, cooling it even as it accelerated her pulse.

  “Well?” he asked quietly.

  She turned a slow circle, wide eyed, unable to speak. Voices rose from the earth, descended from the sky, whispering murmurs that weren’t meant to be understood in clear form. The subtle greetings that caressed her mind blended with the cool temperature and the calming song of crickets—she could hear crickets! Really truly hear them. And frogs. And birds and even the buzz of the insects hidden in the grass. She had missed their voices so much.

  Micah understood—the realization slammed into her like someone took a 2x4 to her ribs. Her breath lodged in her throat, her lungs felt three times smaller than normal. Micah had done this for her, because he understood her need to be close to the wilderness that created her.

  Something deep inside her soul began to tremble.

  Even Fintan, her flesh and blood, didn’t care. But Micah…

  Slowly, she faced him, searching for words that failed to surface. He stepped closer and clasped her hand once more. Silently, he stood at her side, staring off at the rising moon, a strong presence that offered comfort Brigid didn’t deserve. Micah, who had defied Fintan to create this…for her.

  In that moment she loved everything he was, even the hard-as-nails guard he’d been forced to become.

  She touched his shoulder, drawing his troubled blue eyes to her.

  Questions lurked in his quiet stare, as well as answers she didn’t need to hear.

  Lifting to her toes, she touched her mouth to his.

  Chapter Nine

  Micah’s arms came around Brigid’s waist, guiding her into the sheltering warmth of his body. One hand entwined through her hair. The other curled into the small of her back as his tongue slid slowly against hers. His scent engulfed her, clean and crisp and blending with the powerful aromas of nature that called to her heart. The smell of peat rising from the valley, of water from the gurgling stream, of pine from the tall trees framing them in—he wore the fragrance as proof of the hours he’d spent laboring over this enchanting surprise.

  Brigid’s heart thumped like the beat of ancient drums. Emotion flooded her, making it near impossible to keep her knees from buckling. Her head swam, dizzy from the compounding sensations. Everything pummeled into her—Micah, the world she’d been denied, the energy that made her what she was.

  As if he sensed the dangerous pitch to her axis, he broke the kiss, allowing her the opportunity to breathe.

  “It’s too bad you ate,” he murmured.

  She struggled to surface through the haze that clouded her mind. “Hm?”

  Micah nodded at something behind her.

  Twisting in his embrace, Brigid noticed for the first time, the large pillows he’d collected from the
men’s parlor and set on the stone floor. Between the makeshift seats, a small tray held two club sandwiches and a bowl of fresh fruit. Two glasses of white wine framed the plates.

  Just like that, she melted. No one had ever treated her to romance. No one had ever tried. Yet this man, who she had gone out of her way to antagonize, somehow managed to reach inside her and tap into the secrets she kept locked away.

  She leaned forward and caught his lower lip between her teeth to tug his mouth down to hers once more. Against his lips, she whispered, “We can eat later.”

  He chuckled as he dodged her attempts to draw him into a kiss. “Fintan might see us.”

  Brigid leaned back in Micah’s arms, suddenly serious. “Do you care?”

  He held her gaze for uncountable seconds, each one drawing out into an intolerable passing of time. Debating. Weighing the ramifications against his words.

  Finally, when her stomach had balled into a knot and she became certain he would admit he did, he shook his head. “Not anymore.”

  Before Brigid could fully process his response, his mouth caught hers and drew her into the world that was all Micah. Her hands roamed the broad expanse of his shoulders, her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. She needed this. Needed whatever it was that he tapped into and made her feel like anything was possible. Made her believe she could live as mortals did, that Drandar would never intrude on her peace.

  Dimly, she became aware of the fact they were moving, backing up, drifting closer to the pallet he’d created on the floor. When her heels nudged an oversized pillow, Micah guided them to a stop and released her. He took a step back, far enough he could reach between their bodies and unfasten the top button on her sleeveless blouse. “Take this off. I want to see you with the wind in your hair.”

  Chills skittered up and down her spine, making her hand shake as she lifted it to honor his request. His gaze burned into her as she unfastened the tiny square buttons, searing each sliver of skin she uncovered. When she had loosened them all, she shrugged her shoulders and wriggled out of the shirt.

  Micah’s green eyes flared like emeralds. He reached out again, his fingers catching a shank of her hair and drawing it over her shoulder. He ran his thumb over the thick lock as he drew in an unsteady breath. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  She shook her head, her throat tightening beneath his intense perusal. “N-no. I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.” He dropped her hair and gently traced one fingertip over the elaborate tattoo on her forehead. “So unique. So breathtaking.”

  His husky whisper sent moisture rushing between her legs. The touch of wonder that reflected in his eyes made her nearly groan aloud. But she swallowed the sound down, afraid to make any sound at all.

  Micah stepped in close, his chest grazing her breasts. Beneath the thin layer of her bra, her nipples chafed. Pleasant pain that had her womb clamping in on itself.

  Instead of the wry grin she associated with Micah, his mouth curved into a tender smile. “Even when you’re a pain in the ass, you’re perfect, Brigid.”

  Hot color rushed to her cheeks. She dipped her head, ashamed and touched all at once.

  “Here, let me help you with these.” With one turn of the wrist, Micah unfastened the wooden button of her linen pants. His fingers gathered in the waistband, nudging them over her hips and collecting her panties at the same time. As they slid to her thighs, he bent his knees, lowering himself as he lowered her clothing. When they gathered at her feet, he knelt, lifted one ankle, then the other, and pushed the pile of clothes aside.

  She reached for his shoulders, intending to lift into his embrace as he stood. Micah planted a kiss in the center of her belly, and shock coursed through her. With a gasp, she clutched at his shoulders to stop from stumbling.

  Warm, moist breath skated over her flesh as Micah dusted one open-mouthed kiss after another across her waist. One calloused palm roamed lazily along the inside of her knee. Across her thigh. His fingers dipped into the sensitive valley between her legs, stroking her skin, teasing as he edged closer to her feminine center.

  Brigid braced for the contact she knew would come. But when it did, when Micah swept one finger through her wet folds, the floor dropped away. Her knees buckled, and she bit down on her lower lip against a tidal wave of pleasure. At the same time, Micah’s free hand locked onto the back of her knees and his teeth nipped into the side of her waist, sending another shock of bliss coursing through her veins.

  A plaintive cry tumbled free.

  “Perfect,” he whispered at her navel. His tongue dipped into her belly-button, then delved a breath lower as his finger swept through her flesh again. “Perfect.”

  ****

  Every fiber of Micah’s being tightened like stone as Brigid trembled against his hand. The sharp bite of her nails at his shoulders brought pain more pleasant than he had ever known. He’d bear marks again come morning, her marks, her brands. The thought sent a gush of pleasure racing to his groin. His confined cock swelled even more.

  She shuddered, and another soft cry slipped from her lips. He withdrew his hand from between her legs and caught her fingertips. Lifting his gaze, he looked into her unforgettable eyes. What he saw there humbled him. Affection gave her expression tenderness he had only dreamed of. That the emotion came from Brigid, only made it more difficult to breathe. He knew he gave her pleasure. Knew her body craved him as he craved hers. But the wealth of feeling that poured into him, made it impossible to see anything in Brigid but the tender-hearted woman he knew she locked away.

  He swallowed hard and gave her hand a tug. “Sit down,” he whispered hoarsely.

  With an unsteady breath, she lowered herself to one of the pillows he’d confiscated. When he’d created this makeshift picnic, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of romance, or how the night might end. Now, he wished he had. Lumpy pillows and a lack of blankets weren’t much better than the pavestone floor. But as she tucked one behind her back and reclined on another, her long hair fanning out beneath her, the pillows didn’t seem half-bad. She’d discarded her bra, and the way her back arched beneath the fat stuffing, thrust her breasts forward.

  Leaning over her, he closed his mouth around a distended nipple.

  Brigid’s hand latched into the hair on the top of his head, and she arched her back even more. “Feels…so good…your mouth…” Turning her head to the side, she gave in to a low moan.

  The sound made it impossible for Micah to think. His body burned for her. His heart flipped over several times. Oh he had known, in some primitive portion of his brain, the desire that sparked between them would lead them here eventually. But never had he anticipated they would come to this. That physical pleasure would come with the deeper intimacy that flowed between them now.

  He released her nipple and took the other into his mouth, suckling gently as he slipped his hand between her legs once more. Her hips lifted into his caress, her fingers tightened against his scalp.

  “Micah.”

  Her breathless exhale reached in and wrapped a fist around his heart. His chest constricted with a swell of feeling, and the need to possess her completely pounded at his senses. He drew his hand away and reached between their bodies to unfasten his jeans. But Brigid’s hands were already there, her fingers pushing his aside and nimbly working at the buttons on his fly. When the denim gave and his cock escaped the tight confines, Micah bit a groan back. The freedom was torture, the whisper of air on his skin sheer hell. Entirely too much distance remained between them.

  With a harassed mutter, he sat up and shucked his clothes, too in need of the feel of her sweet body to wait for her to undress him. Holding himself on his hands, he lowered his body into hers, closing his eyes at the feel of her satiny skin. Heaven. Sweet, perfect heaven.

  She parted her legs and stroked his erection with a lift of her hips. A shudder rolled down his spine, the feel of her wet heat a sweet torment. He angled himself to meet the downward
roll of her stroke, and with a slow thrust, slid inside her warmth.

  His breath caught, paralyzing him for an instant. He struggled to overcome the sudden rush of release and drew in short breaths through his nose. Twenty-seven, twenty-six, twenty-five…

  At fifteen, bliss ebbed enough to let him move. He sank into her embrace and caught her in a kiss. For a long moment, he reveled in the simple pleasure of her mouth. Her earthy flavor satisfied some unnamable part of his soul. The hunger he tasted in the stroke of her tongue mesmerized him. How they had come this far, he couldn’t explain. Nor did he care.

  Brigid broke his trance, jarring him into the here and now, making it impossible to resist the way she moved against him. He withdrew from her flesh, then pushed back in slow, letting the clench of her inner muscles guide him deep. Bliss blanketed his body in waves. He rode them out, thrusting against the ebb and tide, slowly drifting further out in the sea of sensation.

  Where the night before desire spurred him into a frenzy of need, tonight Micah savored each touch, each caress, each whispered murmur that fell from her lips. He indulged in the pleasure, soaked it up and basked in the full measure of Brigid. She was heaven and hell, salvation and damnation, and he knew, after this, he would never be able to walk away.

  Her leg curled around his waist, and his world spun sideways as the new position drove him even deeper. Ecstasy sizzled through his veins, pooled at the base of his spine. He tore his mouth away from hers and sucked in a sharp breath.

  “I’m not going to last…”

  A slow, sensual smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Don’t. Please.”

  Damn it…those two words unraveled him faster than if she’d put her hands around his cock and squeezed. His hips surged forward. Bliss streaked through his mind like white-hot fire. Distantly, he heard her husky groan, felt her inner muscles clench his erection. He thrust again, and release splintered him into pieces. It crashed through every barrier he had erected to keep Brigid at a distance. Demolished every last bit of resistance he possessed.