Lady of the Mountain

by Lyn Armstrong

  She licked her lips and smiled, her body screamed for more pleasure, but she resisted its pull. “Thank you.”

  Running out of the barn, she returned to her mother’s personal chamber and knocked on the door. In sooth, her mother would have left the mountain by now. The sorceress never could stand to stay around Drucilla for long. Silence greeted her on the other side.

  After looking both ways down the deserted halls, she closed her eyes and envisioned the chamber within.

  A wave of nausea rose in her throat, and her head reeled with dizziness. She opened her eyes to find herself inside the chamber.

  “It worked,” she squealed, and gloried briefly in the moment.

  She looked at the timber chest beneath the table, her desire to break into the strongbox and read the book was almost overwhelming. Instead, she went to the metallic bowl her mother used for scrying. The red wine remained in the bowl; its tart smell tickled her nose.

  Standing with her hands on either side, she said, “Show me what I want to see.”

  A violet mist bubbled from the liquid and flowed over the edges, soon it disappeared and the vision of the wizard appeared.

  He rode ahead of the other two men, his face one of determination. Drucilla’s heart pounded faster. How was she going to warn him?

  Silas had said, “You can do everything the sorceress can do.”

  Could she really transport just her spirit yet leave her body behind? If she tried and her whole body transported, she would surely die outside the mountain. Swallowing hard, she looked at the wizard. He was riding into danger. If she did not stop him, she would have to kill him.

  Her heart ached with the thought—she must try.

  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and said the words she hoped would work.

  Ground my body to the floor,

  And allow my spirit fly,

  Take me to the wizard,

  Please don’t let me die.

  Chapter Six

  Tired and stiff from riding most of the day, Braen swung from his horse and tied him to a tree branch. “I will be back in a moment,” he called over his shoulder as he walked further into the thick forest for privacy. If he did not get away from those ill-tempered knaves soon, he would end up killing them both.

  He had never met two men who hated each other as much as they did. Having to spend the whole day breaking up their feuding was exhausting. Thankfully, he needed them only until the mountain. After that, he did not care if they sliced each other apart.

  Shifting his hair out of his eyes, he leaped over a fallen log and found a tree to relieve himself. After seeing to his business, he pulled up his breeches and turned to find a willowy lady in a pure white gown staring at him, amusement dancing in her black eyes.

  “Where did you come from?” he asked and then moved backward. “You are the sorceress!”

  He pulled his sword from his scabbard.

  “I am here to warn you,” she said, and took a step toward him. “You must turn back.”

  Her raven hair softly floated around her shoulders while the white gown she wore seemed to drift above the ground as if she had no feet. Her clothing denoted innocence, yet the sexual appeal of her dark eyes was devastating.

  He cleared his throat. “I will turn back once I have Merlin’s staff.”

  “The staff is not worth your life.”

  “I believe it is.” He ventured to close the distance between them. Unable to resist, he reached out to touch the sorceress, but his hand went through her body.

  He stood close to her and smelled a floral scent. He could feel the heat of her body, but could not touch her. She breathed heavily, as if his nearness affected her as much as him. A blush tainted her pale cheeks.

  He wanted to kiss her pink lips, to taste her mouth.

  He tilted his head lower to kiss her as she lifted her chin.

  “Master Braen,” Callum’s call broke the still air and the sorceress stepped back, fear shining in her eyes.

  “Turn back, I beg of you.”

  Then she disappeared, the intoxicating flowery scent remaining behind.

  Adjusting his erection, he shook his head with frustration and replaced his sword back in its leather scabbard. Braen jogged back to where he left the men on the horses. Impatiently they waited, each with a sour face.

  “What is amiss now?” Braen asked and lifted himself up onto his mount.

  “Naught is amiss, except this oaf believes he knows how to run my keep better than I,” Callum exclaimed and urged his mount to continue on the path.

  “That is because I do,” Tremayne remarked and rode beside the warlock. “I have had more experience in running castles and defending the Campbell borders than you.”

  “The Campbell lands you defend were stolen from the Roberts by your mother!”

  “Oh ho, young pup, if we are going over the feuding years, then let me remind you—”

  “Cease your arguing!” Braen interrupted and shifted his mount between the men. Except for the horses’ shoes sinking in the packed snow, he enjoyed the short silence. “I have seen the sorceress who guards the mountain.”

  “What happened?” Callum asked.

  “She warned me to turn back or die.”

  “That sounds like my mother,” Tremayne said.

  “Pardon?” Braen gasped.

  “Did this woman look like me with dark hair and is around the age of twenty-five winters?” the sorcerer questioned.

  “Aye, she did.”

  “That is my mother. The sorceress. Do not allow her to seduce you, one touch from her hands and you will be powerless against her insatiable desires.”

  Braen’s erratic thoughts swirled through his mind. “How can your mother be so young and beautiful?”

  “She is immortal and cannot grow old.”

  “Thanks to you,” Callum threw the comment at Tremayne.

  “I did not have a choice…”

  Braen drowned out the argument as he thought of the exotic woman. She did not seem evil. Beautiful, aye, so very beautiful, but evil? Perchance he misjudged her. He had to be alert from now on. He could not fall victim to her lovely charms.

  Using a slight pressure in his thighs, he urged his mount to ride faster. He wanted to get to Mount Suilven before the next full moon. He hoped the sorceress would show herself again. His lips tilted into a wicked smile as a plan formed into his mind.

  Torella laced up the soft material of her gown and it tightened across her breasts, arousing the sensitive peaks to harden. Her daughter certainly had a wonderful mystic imagination to create such delightful gowns. Each garment contoured to her body and sensual personality. When she was excited, the gown shifted across her skin with arousal.

  Leaving Phillip’s chamber, she closed the door behind the exhausted chieftain. The man had a sexual stamina of sex slaves half his age, but eventually, even he needed to rest, leaving her wanting more. The candles flickered as she walked down the white halls. This was the only place her dark blood conflicted with the good magick of Merlin’s staff. As if the walls themselves wanted to purge her from its palace. She never did like this place. Instead, she preferred the darker chambers of her stone castle in the hidden forest of Maim Moir.

  She ran her hand along the cool railings of the wide staircase. Where was her daughter? Torella would never admit it to her daughter, but she would miss her after the girl turned twenty-five. She sighed and walked down the hallway leading to her locked chamber. Whether she was happy with the outcome or not, the girl must die. Was it not the only reason she kept the lass alive all these years?

  Besides, the older her daughter became, the more curious she got. The last thing she needed was her daughter finding her true sorceress’ powers and the book of Dark Magick.

  Torella arrived at her chamber when Silas ran up to her, shirtless and puffing.

  “What are you doing in male form? What if my daughter sees you?” she said, infuriated at his disobedience.

  “
She is… is asleep in her chamber,” he stammered and blocked the door.

  A shuffling noise sounded from inside the chamber and Torella frowned. “Did you hear that?”

  “Nae, I heard nothing.”

  She pushed Silas out of her way and waved her hand over the door. “Unwind my lock,” she chanted and a silver light glowed around the edges and the door creaked open.

  Rushing in, she spun around, expecting to see someone but no one was there. She narrowed her eyes and sniffed the air. A light sweet scent lingered.

  Drucilla.

  She tapped her chin with her long fingernail. She did catch her daughter in here this morn. Could her aroma lurk this long?

  Shrugging her shoulders, she turned on Silas, her eyebrows arched and her lips pursed at the muscles bulging in his arms. She walked toward him, and he stepped back, his eyes clouding with concern.

  “Was there something you wanted, Silas?”

  “I… I…”

  “You hastened to my chamber for a reason,” she purred.

  He swallowed hard. She could feel the fear and arousal drip from his aura, and it sent her senses reeling. He backed against the wall, seemingly unwilling to allow her to touch him. To control him with her magical touch that sent all men to their knees with want.

  His small nipples hardened as she slinked closer to him, sweat gleamed upon his skin while a bulge protruded from his breeches. She had not even enchanted him with her touch, and already his body responded to her nearness.

  “I asked you a question—answer it,” she demanded and stood so close to him, she could smell the scent of hay on his breath.

  “I wanted to make love to you,” he said, his eyes flickered with indecision.

  He was lying.

  The dimple in his chin increased with a foolish grin. She stared at him; a delicious thought came to mind. “Sex would be pleasurable, but I want something more— ritualistic.”

  She sat on the bed and positioning her palms behind her, supporting her weight.

  His face paled; a noticeable shiver glided over his body.

  “I am waiting, Silas.”

  Defiance flashed in his deep gray eyes. “Nae, do not do this.”

  Insolent lad. “Turn!”

  Silas lowered onto one knee and gradually transformed into the magnificent unicorn. His black tail swished behind his powerful white hind legs.

  Rising from the bed, Torella donned her black cloak. Upon the iron table sat a small golden box, she opened the lid and lifted out a pearl-handle dagger.

  “Come to me,” she commanded.

  When the unicorn hesitated, she whacked his rump. “Come—to—me.”

  Silas slowly turned to face her, his sparkling horn offered to her.

  Rising the knife, she sliced a sliver off his horn. The unicorn released a tremendous cry.

  “Oh, cease that noise,” she said, shaking the ringing from her ears.

  Silas’ horn dulled in color then returned into its natural shape, while the piece she held in her hand turned black.

  The unicorn slinked outside, tears in his round eyes but she did not care. Excitement greater than sex bubbled up in her throat. Soon, she would have enough of his horn to make the potion.

  Chapter Seven

  An eerie howl vibrated through the halls and Drucilla jumped. She never could find the source of the unusual noise, but lately it was recurring more often. Whenever she questioned her mother, she would shrug it off and say it was probably a draft escaping through the mountain.

  Drucilla went to her father’s chamber and knocked gently on the door. When no answer came, she peeked through a crack to find her father was still asleep. Disappointed, she closed the door.

  He certainly sleeps a lot.

  Sighing, she went to the upper floor to where Merlin’s staff stood, beaming colorful lights through the roof.

  Circling the rod, she said aloud, “How am I going to stop that stubborn wizard?”

  She could not allow him to reach the mountain.

  But, if she returned to her mother’s chamber, she would surely be caught the next time. It was only by Silas’ intervention that she escaped before her mother entered. She must remember to thank him next time she saw him.

  Sitting down, she crossed her legs and leaned back on her hands to stare at the golden stick. It was glorious. No wonder the wizard wanted the staff’s power to create anything he wanted.

  Drucilla straightened.

  “I can create the exact bowl as mothers.”

  Dusting her hands, she rose and placed her palms out. “By Merlin’s powers I ask for a sorceress’ scrying bowl… oh, and red wine too.”

  A heavy metallic bowl with red wine inside appeared in her hands. Gathering it to her chest, she steadily walked out of the chamber. Peering in both directions, her heart pounded with fear of discovery. Careful not to spill the wine, she hastened down the hallway to her own room.

  The door closed behind her and she breathlessly leaned against it. Except for the roaring fire in the fireplace, the chamber was dark. Even outside her three arched windows, the false light faded into a sunset, replicating the end of a typical day. Soon, the only light in the mountain would be from the glow bugs that lived on the mountain ceiling. Her personal stars, she liked to think of them.

  “Candles on,” she commended, and several candles around the chamber ignited with flames, throwing light into the chamber.

  Usually, she liked having such a spacious room, with her large bed on the other side of the wall and a corner all to her gown making, but the muscles in her arms screamed for her to drop the heavy bowl. Walking as fast as she could, she went to her oak table with a glass mirror and swiped off all her fripperies and jewels.

  Unloading the heavy burden, she straightened the ache in her back and swung her numb arms.

  She smiled to herself. “I will show the wizard what stubborn really is.”

  Waving her hand over the wine, she chanted, “Show me what I want to see.”

  The wine bubbled, and a violet mist rose.

  The vision of the wizard appeared in a small room. He was alone with a tub of steaming water by his side. The taut muscle of his buttocks stretched the fabric of his breeches as he bent to take off his boots. Firm, sleek contours captured her gaze and she moistened her dry lips.

  Drucilla giggled with a delicious thought.

  She closed her eyes and chanted the spell to separate her spirit from her body.

  Instantly, she was behind the wizard without him knowing. With the spare boot near her feet, the wizard hopped on one foot, trying to take off his other boot. Raising her hand, she made the boot rise behind him and kicked him in the ass.

  Losing his balance he fell into the tub, clothes and all.

  She laughed so hard her sides ached.

  He came up spitting and splattering, brown hair flattened against his face.

  She wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. “I warned you to turn back.”

  He shot to his feet and water splashed over the sides. With his hands on his hips, he glared at her. “You will regret you did that.”

  She burst with laughter again.

  He swung his booted leg over the edge of the tub, and it squelched with water as the other followed. He bent over, pulled off the remaining boot, and tipped the water out.

  Feeling naughty, she smiled at him. “You seem a little soggy.”

  A frustrated growl escaped his lips. He threw the boot at her and it went straight through her spirit.

  “You cannot touch me,” she taunted and swayed from side to side.

  “I know,” he snarled. “It just made me feel better.”

  “Give up your pursuit and I will leave you alone.”

  “Never!”

  “Then I will stay until you do.” She glided over to the single chair in the room and sat with her hands across her chest.

  “By all means, I welcome you to stay,” his tone was smooth and rich. He stared intently at her a
nd arched an arrogant eyebrow. Slowly, he peeled off his damp tunic and dropped it to the floor in a heap, then he unlaced his breeches, pushed them down and stepped out of them, his sensual eyes never leaving hers.

  She tried not to break his gaze, to resist the lure of surveying his body. A lump formed in her throat as her skin prickled with heat. Damn him! She lowered her eyes to his thick neck and then down his hairless chest rounded with tight muscles that lead to his flat abdomen. His arms looked strong, as if he could lift her up without effort and lay her on the bed…

  She shook her head.

  Look away, look away.

  Purple light swirled around his body and floated over to her.

  He was aroused.

  The sexual energy floated to her spirit, enticing her being into a higher state of arousal. She heaved an affronted sigh and shifted her gaze. Hoping he would not see the lust in her eyes.

  He walked over to her, making no attempt to hide his nudity. At the same level as her face, he stood with an impressive erection nestled against black hairs.

  She could not suppress a gasp of admiration. A quiver of erotic energy surged through her spirit. She looked up to his face; smug humor tugged at his lips.

  “’Tis a shame you cannot touch it.” He lowered his face to hers. “I see you crave to do so.”

  Drucilla tightened her lips—rage flaring through her spirit. “If I could touch you, I would slap you.”

  He straightened, and a deep rumble of laughter washed over her while his member waved in front of her face, taunting her.

  He granted her a view of his tight buttocks as he went back to the tub and stepped inside the water.

  She sighed and licked her lips. She would give anything to sink into the tub with him, to run the bar of soap over his tanned skin. Yet, he was so arrogant and stubborn… it made her so angry and aroused at the same time. Curse him for being so handsome and virile!

  Rising with as much dignity as she could muster, she walked over to the tub and stood over him.

  “Clothes disappear,” she whispered and his wet garments vanished.

  He opened his eyes. “What did you say?”

  “Gown appear.” She granted him a wicked smile as a frilly pink gown appeared on her arm. She dropped it on the floor and leaned over him. “We will see how far you travel in a bonny dress.”