Dessia nodded. She was so tired, her head felt as if it was stuffed with unspun wool.
* * *
Bridei gazed up at the overcast sky and wondered why he remained awake. With his cloak spread over the pile of leaves and grass, the make-shift bed wasn’t that uncomfortable. Dessia had fallen asleep almost instantly, but slumber eluded him. He felt as if he’d forgotten something, something important.
Disengaging himself from Dessia, he got to his feet. He glanced down at her and felt a lingering anxiety. She looked so pale. He wanted desperately to keep her safe, but how was he to do so? At least here in the forest, she would be protected for a time. But after that . . .
His thoughts made him restless, and he decided to walk down to the lake. Maybe if he looked in the water he’d see something that would reassure him. On the other hand, as Dessia had said, he might see something he didn’t want to see.
His heartbeat quickened as approached the water and gazed into the glassy still depths. Although the woods around him remained winter bare, in the lake he saw a forest bedecked in the bright green of summer. It made him think of the tales he’d heard of the magical kingdom beneath the water where the Fair Folk lived. The Irish called the place Tir ‘d Og, the land of youth, while in his homeland it was known as Awan. It was said to always be summer there.
As he continued to stare into the water, he heard laughter. A moment later, he saw someone running through the trees in the lake. He could catch quick glimpses of them: Two children—or at least they were the size of children. They both had red hair, and the ruddy hue contrasted strikingly with the green of their surroundings as they raced to and fro among the trees. Who were they? Children of the Fair Folk?
The image faded. Bridei waited for a time, but nothing else appeared. Finally, he made his way back to where Dessia lay and settled himself beside her.
* * *
When next he woke, Dessia was gone. He sat up and called out for her. When she didn’t answer, the familiar dread afflicted him. He got to his feet, feeling disoriented. It was still overcast but the light seemed different. His instincts told him it was morning, which meant they’d slept through the whole day and night. Then he heard a strange sound, like someone gagging. He followed the sound and discovered Dessia, bent over, retching. He started toward her, but she waved him away. After a moment, she straightened and wiped her mouth.
“What is it?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It started a couple of days ago. I thought my stomach ailed because I was so distraught about being imprisoned. But now that I’m free, I don’t understand why it’s still happening.”
“You haven’t eaten anything in a long while. Perhaps that’s why you’re ill.”
“That’s the problem. I’ve already eaten, but I couldn’t keep it down.”
Bridei looked at Dessia closely. Had she contracted some illness during her imprisonment? “Have you any other signs of sickness?”
“Nay. Really, Bridei, you must stop worrying for me. And you should eat. Just because my stomach ails doesn’t mean you should go hungry.”
Still watching her with concern, Bridei went to fetch the food Doona had given them. He unwrapped the bundle and ate one of the bannocks and a little of the cheese. Rewrapping the remainder of the food, he returned it to their pack. While he was doing so, he found the wineskin the cook had also sent with them. He unstoppered the skin and took a few swallows, then carried it over to Dessia, who was washing in the lake. “Feeling better?” he asked her.
She stood and nodded, then took the wineskin from him and drank. Bridei watched her, marveling at every detail of her exquisite face. Her eyes, like shimmering foliage in the bottom of a cool, still pool. The elegant cast of her auburn brows and the curve of her cheek. The rich splendor of her full lips. The faint amber freckles on her nose and cheeks, barely visible now that it was winter. She was wearing a plain green wool gown. It was soiled and rumpled, but still set off the moon cool pallor of her skin and russet hue of her hair. Yet, it concealed her other dazzling charms beneath it.
All at once, he was aroused. It seemed too much to hope for that she would be interested in lovemaking, especially after being sick. But he couldn’t help but say, “For the first time in weeks, we’re alone, Dessia. Perhaps we should make the most of it.”
She looked at him in surprise, but then, to his amazement, her expression turned seductive. “Aye. Perhaps we should,” she said. “Although I want to finish washing first.”
Feeling almost dazed, Bridei returned to their makeshift bed and began to remove his clothing. He could scarcely believe his good fortune; he was finally alone with Dessia and she wanted him. A short while later, he saw her walking towards him, completely naked. His breath caught. She was so womanly. A goddess. “You’re magnificent,” he breathed.
Her lips curved enticingly. “I feel the same for you. You’re so beautiful.”
He laughed. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say to a man.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
He reached out and traced the line of her cheek with his fingers. “I’m not nearly as beautiful as you are.”
She mimicked his motion. “Ah, but you are . . . at least to me. I’ve never met a man so handsome.”
“You’ve never left this small corner of Ireland, so you’re hardly in a position to judge. I, however, have been to many, many places. So, when I say you are the most comely woman I’ve ever seen, it truly means something.”
“You don’t think I’m too tall? Too muscular and long-limbed for a woman? What about my awful freckles? And my red hair? Emer said it meant I was cursed.”
He put his hands on her glorious full breasts and began to make slow circles around her nipples. “Perhaps some men might find you intimidating. But, to me, you look exactly as a queen should look. You’ve had to fight in battles and endure hardship to become who you are. You couldn’t have done that if you were some frail, dainty maid.” She gave a soft of moan of pleasure as he continued, “I find your freckles enchanting. As for your red hair . . . I think that’s what makes you so fiery and passionate in bed. I’m hardly going to complain about such an attribute.”
Dessia closed her eyes and gave into the delicious sensations Bridei’s touch aroused. It was remarkable how much her mood had changed since the day before. When she’d come to this place, she’d felt despairing and empty. Sleeping for so long had restored her. Or perhaps the enchantment of the woods had banished her misery. Her resentment of Bridei had also faded, and as soon as her stomach had settled, she’d found herself suddenly eager for lovemaking.
Mmmmm. His fingers were magic. No wonder he could play the harp so skillfully. She half-smiled to herself as he continued to stroke her breasts. They felt heavy and throbbing. Incredibly sensitive. Her nipples were taut, aching peaks. She needed . . . wanted . . . He seemed to have guessed her thoughts, for the next moment he replaced his beguiling fingers with his mouth. He suckled her, his lips and tongue inflaming, teasing. She could hardly remain still. Arching her back, she offered herself to him. Wanting more . . . more . . . .
He switched to her other breast, his hand gently cupping her flesh, while his mouth sucked greedily. She felt as if he dragged her toward some precipice, and she half feared going over it and being utterly lost. But she also wanted, yearned for the release. The tension built inside her, squeezing deep in the core of her body. At last she surrendered, crying out. She seemed to dissolve. Her being shook with ecstasy. She was blind with sensation. Drowning in dazzling, shimmering, molten . . . fire.
Her whole body felt limp and boneless. Her knees, weak. Vaguely, she was aware of Bridei picking her up and carrying her. By the time she thought to protest that she was too heavy, he’d reached the bed he’d made and gently lay her down. She gazed up at him in wonder. “That was . . .” she shook her head, overwhelmed.
He smiled down at her, his violet blue eyes glistening. “Aye. It was.”
All he'd done was touch
and mouth her breasts and yet somehow he’d made her reach her peak. As she recalled how she’d lost control, she felt vaguely embarrassed. She’d let him do everything for her and hadn’t even thought about him. She sat up. “That was selfish of me. To let you pleasure me like that and give no thought to your own satisfaction.”
“You think that didn’t satisfy me?” He gazed at her, eyebrows raised. “I enjoyed every moment of it. I’ve never had a woman so responsive. So passionate. You were breathtaking.”
“But what of your own . . .” She knew it was important for a man to spill his seed. Indeed, she had overheard men complain how uncomfortable it was if they didn’t get release.
He laughed. “I’m in no hurry. That’s the disadvantage of being male. A man can only peak once, at least within a certain time.” He grinned at her. “It’s quite unfair. As a woman, you can make love all night and peak over and over again. I must rest each time.”
She gazed at him skeptically. “I couldn’t do that all night long. ‘Twas too intense. Too overwhelming.”
“Does that mean you wish to sleep for awhile?”
“That would hardly be fair of me. To allow you to pleasure me, and leave you dissatisfied.”
“I’m not dissatisfied. I told you how much I enjoyed it.”
“Aye. But I can see you’re still aroused.”
Feeling her gaze on his groin, Bridei stood up. He’d intended to be the most considerate of lovers and let her rest. But if she were going to stare at his cock like that . . . “If you’re going to rest, you must do so now.” He grimaced as his voice came out harsher than he intended. Then he saw the bold, teasing look on her face and knew she did indeed understand what he was going through.
“I could rest,” she said. “Or I could do things to you.”
“What sort of things?” His voice was choked; his breathing harsh.
“I could touch you. May I?”
He nodded, wondering if he’d be able to bear it. Only a green boy spilled his seed at the mere touch of woman. But right now, he had about that much control.
She stood up facing him and began caressing his face, delicately tracing the shape of his mouth and then his jaw line. His heart thudding heavily as he watched her. Her expression was so intent. Her eyes, a smoky, mysterious green.
“Your mother must be beautiful,” she said.
He gave a strangled laugh. “Why are you discussing my mother? Do you seek to take the edge off my lust?”
“Nay. I was thinking that your beauty must come from your mother.”
“I suppose. Although she’s hardly my concern at this moment.”
“What is your concern?”
My hard, throbbing cock. That’s all of can think of. I want you to touch it. But I can wait. I will wait.
When he didn’t answer her, she began to fondle and stroke his neck, and then ran her hands down his chest. He took deep, even breaths, trying to ease the nearly unbearable tension building in his groin.
“Are you enjoying this?” he murmured.
“Oh, aye,” she answered as she glided her fingers along his ribs and then down his back. “From the first time I saw you, I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Truly?”
She nodded. “You’re the first man I’ve ever wanted to touch. The first man to make me understand why a man might want to . . . do things to a woman.”
“Ah . . .” He let out a groan, then regained control. “What sort of things do you want to do to me?”
“This.” She drew close to him and slid her hands down to his buttocks, stroking and squeezing him there, cupping his flesh in her long, elegant fingers.
“By the gods,” he gasped.
“Every part of you is fascinating to me. I’ve never had a chance to do this with a man before.”
“Hmmm.” He could no longer speak. The sheer eroticism of her touch was driving him to madness.
“You’re so different than me. Your body is much harder than mine. And hairier.”
“Aye, I am harder,” he ground out. “Especially in one certain area.”
“Oh.” She widened her eyes in mock innocence. “I can’t think what you mean.”
He could take no more. Grabbing her tormenting, teasing fingers, he placed them on his cock. “Here. This is where I’m especially hard.”
“Aye.” Her voice was a husky whisper. “You’re like a steel blade, but overlaid with soft, silky flesh.”
Her touch was much too gentle. He felt he would burst apart at any moment. He pulled her hand away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking confused.
“Someday I’ll teach how to pleasure me like that. But at this moment, all your caressing and fondling makes me want only one thing—to be sheathed in your sweet, silken flesh.”
She nodded. “Aye. It makes me want that, too.”
“I warn you, I doubt I can be gentle. I’m too aroused.”
“I don’t want you to be gentle.”
Looking into her eyes, he believed her. She was no fragile, delicate maid, but a strong, capable warrior woman. Even so, he wanted to make certain she was ready.
She lay down on the makeshift bed. He knelt near her feet, then grasped her thighs and slid them apart. Eyes closed, she gave a soft moan of anticipation. Leaning down, he placed his mouth on the delicate petal-like flesh of her womanhood. She gave a shriek of delight. He held her thighs and suckled and kissed and licked until she was moaning wildly. Then he raised himself over her and thrust deep.
She’d thought she could feel no more pleasure than what he’d given her earlier. But this time her peak came in deep, heaving waves, submerging her in a torrent of vivid, blinding sensation. Yet even as she slowly glided down, he thrust deeper and her body responded, the delicious tension building once again. Higher and higher she soared until she crashed in a glorious, swirling, starlit release.
Chapter 22
Bridei reached his peak, his body exploding with vivid, overwhelming sensation. He collapsed on Dessia and buried his face in the heavy silk of her hair. A few moments later, as he raised himself off of her, he realized they were surrounded by vivid green vegetation. “Dessia. Look,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes and gazed up at him with a lazy smile. Then she looked around and realized what had happened. “How . . .?” She sat up, appearing as stunned as he was. Then she burst out laughing. “I knew your lovemaking was magical, but I never dreamed you could do this.”
“’Twas not me,” he said. “It must be the Goddess.”
She stroked his hair, her eyes glowing. “You’re like Belenos, god of sun and fire. With your passion, you’ve brought summer to this place.”
“I don’t know how it happened, but I wish to thank whatever force or being transformed this place.” He lay back down again, and Dessia nestled against his chest. The lassitude of utter satisfaction crept over him.
He fell asleep and dreamed of summer. The sun was high in the sky, the air warm and fragrant with growing things. After a time, he woke and realized it was night. He found Dessia’s cloak and draped it over them. When he woke again, it was growing light. He stood and stretched, then went off to relieve himself.
Dessia was still asleep when he returned. He’d covered her up to keep her warm, but as she’d slept, the cloak had fallen away. The sight of her nakedness aroused him, and he wondered whether he could coax her into making love again. He sprawled down beside her and began to play with her breasts. As he fondled one of her nipples, he noticed her breasts seemed more voluptuous than he remembered, the nipples a deeper rose. Perhaps it was this place, he mused. As the landscape ripened into the abundance of summer, perhaps it had affected them as well, heightening his virility and her womanliness. His hand stilled as he had another thought. Perhaps the change in Dessia appearance wasn’t caused by magic, but by something simpler and more mundane. What if she were pregnant?
He gazed at her, his thoughts racing. Everything fit together: her ailing stomach, her fa
tigue, her fuller breasts. Even her amazing responsiveness.
Dessia stirred and opened her eyes. “Hmmm. I had such a beautiful dream.” She reached out, grasped his hand and brought it to her breast. “Keep touching me,” she said.
Bridei’s arousal, so intense a few moments before, had ebbed. Dessia must have sensed something was wrong for she let go of his hand and said, “I guess that was part of my dream.”
“Nay. It wasn’t a dream . . . it’s merely that . . .” He must find out if his suspicions were true. Touching her hair, he said, “Dessia. I must ask you something. Have you had your courses since the night we lay together?”
“My courses?” She shook her head. “I was worried they’d come when I was imprisoned, and I dreaded having to ask Druim for some cloths. But nothing happened, and I decided my distress had kept me from bleeding.”
“Before we made love—how long had it been since your last one?”
Dessia shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps a fortnight or a little less.”
Bridei felt breathless. A wise woman had once told him that if he wished to avoid impregnating a woman, he should be careful to only sleep with her while she was having her courses, or the first few days afterwards. By the time a week had passed, the likelihood she would conceive became substantial.
“What’s wrong?” Dessia asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He took a deep breath, wondering if saying it aloud would make it more real. “It’s early yet. But even so, I’m fairly certain you’re pregnant.”
She stared at him. “Why do you think this?”
“You have all the signs.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your ailing belly.” Bridei gestured. “Your breasts seem fuller, and I suspect they’re tender as well. Perhaps that’s even why they’re so sensitive.”
Her eyes widened, then she grabbed her gown, stood and pulled it over her head. She began to pace beside him. “Oh! How could I be such a fool? I never thought . . .”
He got to his feet and took her arm. “I’m sorry, Dessia. It’s my fault. There are ways to prevent pregnancy. I failed to use any of them.”
The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) Page 28