by Lucy Monroe
“You trust me.”
“I do.”
“Why?” But he knew.
They were mates, though he would not claim her.
“I do not know.” Her brows drew together in a troubled frown. “I only know that from the first moment I woke to see your face last night, I have felt safe in your company.”
“I am a healer.”
She rolled her eyes, letting him know what she thought of his answer. “That is your answer for everything.”
He shrugged and it made his hands slide across her soft skin. She caught her breath, though it was clear he had not hurt her. He had to bite back a moan at the feel of the feminine silk below his fingertips.
“I want you to touch me,” she said in a tone filled with sweet feminine need.
To ignore it cost him dearly. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Mairi,” he warned.
“You can caress me with pleasure without compromising my virtue. It is done by many courting couples.”
“What do you know of this type of touching?” he demanded.
“I have heard things.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You have not allowed another to touch you thus?”
“Of course not.” The scent of her arousal mixed with that of anger. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”
A sweetly innocent one. “I promised to protect you from both myself and your desires.”
An honorable Chrechte did not break his promises.
“I trust you to do so, but your vow did not include not touching me at all.”
“It did.”
“No, it did not. If so, you could not have healed me. Your promise was to protect my virtue.”
“And I will.”
“Yes, you will. You will not take my maidenhead.” She grasped his wrists and tugged.
He was Chrechte and she was a human female; her strength nothing compared to his. And yet his hands moved where she guided them, up the scant inches that left her breasts no longer naked.
Because they were covered with his hands, the nipples pebbled against his palms. Carefully arching into his touch, she licked her lips, her eyes going unfocused. Her fingers tightened around his wrists, but she made no move to guide him into a more titillating touch.
“I like that,” she said breathlessly, the blue depths of her eyes shining with a happiness he could all too easily find necessary to his own. “Having your hands there. Am I compromised now?”
Her naïveté touched him in a place he thought none could reach. He smiled, shaking his head. “Not yet.”
She moved his hands again, just a little, so his palms abraded her sweet buds. She moaned. “That tingles all through me. Surely, now I am compromised.”
“No,” he growled out. “Not yet.”
“But it feels so good.”
“Aye, it does.”
She went still, meeting his gaze with determined blue orbs. “Then we can give one another pleasure without you breaking your promise.”
“You are sneaky,” he said with admiration and no little shock.
“It would be a tragedy if I learned nothing of value in the years of my childhood.”
He agreed, though with less humor than she seemed to feel about it.
“I have still to heal your leg. It is at risk.”
“You will share yourself with me, after?” She was demanding an entirely different sort of promise now.
Chapter 10
“Among all the kinds of serpents, there is none comparable to the Dragon.”
—EDWARD TOPSELL
“I will share what I can,” Lais vowed.
“Then you may heal me.”
“Saucy wench.”
Mairi grinned. “I find you bring out things in me I have never been certain of letting others see before.”
“You are safe now.”
“Yes.”
“You can trust the Sinclair.”
“You are here. I am safe.”
Her words made him question his certainty he could not have a mate, but then she did not know his past. If she did, Mairi would not give her trust to Lais so easily.
He slipped his hands from the soft pillows of her breasts, unable to stop himself brushing her nipples as he did so.
She gasped, arching again, higher than before and then frowning and crying out.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I am fine.”
“Do not lie to me.”
“My back…”
So, they had more to do than he had thought. He said nothing as he laid both his hands on the huge bruise on her outer thigh. He could feel the near break in the bone below, the depth of damage in the muscle and tissues around it.
He wanted to kill the man who had done this to her, Lais’s eagle screaming inside him for revenge.
Her small hand pressed against his cheek. “It is all right, Lais. Already, it feels better.”
“Healing you is easier than it has ever been.” And ’twas a good thing, or he would never have had the strength to do all he had to this point.
“I wonder why,” she said, her tone implying they both knew the answer and daring him to say it out loud.
“Better to wonder if I will have the strength to heal your back after this.” Though he would. He had no choice.
He spoke a Chrechte blessing over her as he continued to concentrate on healing her leg. He felt a surge of power go through him and he dropped his head in thanks to God.
“It is time to turn you over.” He withdrew his hands.
She raised her hand toward him. “Help me?”
“Always.” He grabbed her hand and gently pulled while helping her to roll forward with another hold on her hip.
Once she was on her side, facing away from him, he looked down and swore in voluble Chrechte at what he saw. It amazed him that she had lain on her back both the night before and today without complaint. It was covered in bruises.
“Is it very ugly?”
“Nothing about you is ugly, Mairi, but those bastards must have taken turns pummeling your back.”
“I rolled into a ball, to protect myself.” She let out a hiccupping breath and he knew she was crying at the memory. “They hit and kicked my back over and over.”
“Oh, sweet lass, I am sorry.”
“You did not do it. You never would.”
She had such faith in him and it was not warranted, not by the man he had once been. No, he would never have beaten a child or a woman, but his crimes were just as bad. “I have to touch you, to learn where you need most healing.”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry,” he said again.
She put her hand over his on her hip, her silent request undeniable. He turned his hand over and laced their fingers together. Then he took the amber crystal with his other hand and touched her as lightly as he could with the smoothest side. She did not flinch away, though it had to hurt.
He went over her back without pausing to heal, simply looking for any cracks in bone. Thankfully, there were none. He healed the worst of her bruises, but she would still have pain on the morrow. He had had to leave too much undone.
When he finished, he was shaking with exhaustion and still his arousal plagued him.
“Are you done?” she asked in a lethargic voice.
“For now.”
“Can I turn back over?”
“You would be more comfortable on your side.”
“I want to see you.”
He nodded, though she could not see him. Withdrawing his hand from hers, he stood. “Do not move.”
“All right, Lais.”
Questioning his own sanity, he undressed and then stepped over her to join her in the furs.
Her eyes were heavy lidded, though evidence of her continued desire was a delicious fragrance to his eagle’s senses. He pulled furs over them before taking her hand in his under the covering. “We will sleep and then I will work on not compromising you.”
> “You promise?”
“Aye.”
“Good,” she said sleepily. “An honorable Chrechte keeps his promises.”
He smiled at her repeating his own thoughts and allowed himself to drift into sleep as well.
Ciara woke in the arms of a dragon.
The last thing she remembered was Eirik’s hands on her face, his eyes glowing with amber light as they looked into hers…a kiss so soft it could have been a butterfly’s wings, and then a sense of peace stealing over her in soft waves. After that…nothing.
No disturbing dreams, no sense of dread, no fear.
Feeling better than she had in months and more alert than she had in weeks, she blinked in the darkness. She experienced no worry though, to be in the dark with a dragon, and she wondered what magic Eirik had worked on her mind.
Her head was pillowed on one of his great arms, his other curved protectively over her body. Dangerous claws rested without threat under one of her hands. There was a soft fur beneath her, protecting her from the hard ground and another over her, cocooning her with the dragon’s warmth.
She could smell both Niall and Guaire near, but could not make out their shapes in the darkness.
Eirik’s scent surrounded her, making her wolf giddy. And for just a moment, Ciara would let herself enjoy the sensation of peace and safety she found in the dragon’s presence.
A rustle of movement from behind her dragon alerted her to where Niall and Guaire were. And that they too were awake.
“Where are we?” she asked into the darkness. “Why are we here?”
“You’re awake.” Niall’s voice was laced with satisfaction.
She could smell the sweet spice of relief in the air as well, though whether it came from him or Guaire, she could not tell.
Flint striking stone sounded and then a torch burned, bringing light into the cavern. The walls were smooth but for some images carved into them. She would have to get closer with the torch to make out what they were though.
Ciara scooted into a sitting position but still could not see over Eirik’s large dragon form.
“You slept an entire day and a night,” Guaire said, coming around the dragon’s head, Niall beside him.
The big warrior tilted his head as if listening for something and then said, “By my reckoning, it is just past dawn.”
“I…thank you.”
“Dinna thank me. It was your dragon there that kept you sleeping so peacefully. He shifted once, to take care of a bodily need, and you started tossing and turning within seconds. He hasn’t moved from your side since.” The grudging approval in Niall’s voice made her smile.
He smiled back, the scar on his cheek pulling his face oddly, but she didn’t mind. Niall was as good a man as her adopted father.
And then, without warning, the dragon shrank around her and with a flash of crimson light she was being cuddled by a man. A very naked man.
Guaire’s eyes widened in shock that quickly changed to appreciation as he took in Eirik’s naked form. “Nice.”
Niall growled, his eyes glittering in a way that indicated his wolf was far too close to the surface. Ciara felt her own wolf scratching to get out and without even realizing what she was doing, she’d covered Eirik with the fur she’d slept under.
Guaire grinned at both of them. “Is anyone hungry to break their fast?”
Ciara’s stomach rumbled and she realized in surprise that she was indeed hungry.
Eirik still had one arm around her, but he used his other hand to tilt her face up so she was looking at him. “You will eat.”
“Yes.” Did he think she didn’t want to eat? He could not be more wrong.
It was not her fault that her stomach was in such tight knots lately that she could not bear to put food in it.
“You are a troublemaker,” she heard Niall tell Guaire.
She pulled her head from Eirik’s grasp and turned to see the other men, only to bite her lip so she didn’t giggle. But Niall had pulled Guaire into a heated kiss and Ciara couldn’t help thinking that had probably been the seneschal’s plan all along. The human knew how to keep his Chrechte warrior dancing to the tune only Guaire could play.
She grinned and turned back to Eirik. “It may be a bit before we can break our fast.”
“How long have they been mates?” the Éan prince asked.
“Since before I came to live with the Sinclairs.”
“They act as if the mating is new.”
“They are in love.”
“They are lucky Talorc approved the mating. Among the Éan, those with same-sex mates, or human mates, are expected to produce offspring with another Éan before the mating bond can be consummated.”
“That’s terrible.”
Eirik shrugged as if it really didn’t matter. “Perhaps it will no longer be necessary, now that we are not dying off one by one as we are hunted to death in the forest.”
“Our laird would never require something like that.” Ciara had absolute faith in Talorc’s commitment to the most sacred of the Chrechte laws—that a true mating was inviolate. “It would circumvent the true mating bond and love that comes with it.”
“Love is only paramount in Heaven. Here, among mortals, other considerations must be taken into account. Waiting to take one’s true mate in the ways of our people is a small price to pay for the continuance of our very existence.”
“It is a good thing for us Talorc does not agree with you,” Niall said as he released his mate, who immediately began setting out food provisions on a small square of the Sinclair plaid. “I would have had to defy my laird; I would not bed a femwolf just to make cubs.”
“The Faol have never been at risk for extinction. You have never been forced to make the kinds of choices our leaders had to make for us. There was a time, right after the Éan first escaped to the northern forests that less than two dozen of our people remained and some were past the age of producing offspring.”
Ciara sucked in a shocked breath. She’d no idea the Éan had come so close to disappearing forever. Part of her admired Eirik because she knew he would have made the difficult choices she spoke about. Part of her despaired as she realized he put no importance on love.
“In theory, I can understand what you are saying, but it would have broken my heart if Niall had taken a wife,” Guaire said. “It near broke my heart the years I waited for him to claim me, as it was.”
Ciara scrambled to her feet, and only then realized she wore a shift and nothing else. She threw a glare over her shoulder at Eirik, knowing exactly whose fault that had to be.
She reached out and patted Guaire’s arm. “Niall loves you too much to have ever taken someone else to mate.”
They might have to keep the truth of their relationship hidden from most of the clan, though she thought that by now many had guessed, but they should never doubt one another’s love. It was too pure and bright between them.
Guaire smiled at her and then turned a besotted expression on the big warrior. “I know.”
“Love can coincide with duty. ’Tis not always mutually exclusive.” Eirik’s voice was muffled as he bent to retrieve his kilt and put it on.
“Duty should not dismiss love,” Ciara maintained.
Niall grunted his agreement, but Guaire just looked thoughtful.
“What are you thinking, love?” Niall asked him.
“Had our laird’s father been more appreciative of his duty and less focused on his obsessive love for the Englishwoman, he might yet be alive and many in our clan besides him.”
“There is that,” Niall agreed.
Eirik just handed Ciara an apple. “Eat.”
Clearly he was not worried if others agreed with his reasoning, or not.
She ate the apple, an oatcake and some roasted rabbit Guaire had prepared the night before while she slept. It was wonderful. After she’d drunk from the water skein, she took her clothes away from the light cast by the torch and dressed in the shadows.
&nb
sp; “Why are we in a cave?” she asked Eirik, not sure if the search for the Faolchú Chridhe had already begun.
“You needed to sleep.” Eirik said it like that should answer her question.
It didn’t. “So? I don’t understand how that ended up with you, myself and two of my father’s most trusted warriors in a cavern.”
“Eirik claimed his dragon could guard your dreams,” Niall replied.
She would have scoffed, but the blond warrior’s earlier words made more sense now. Hope and pragmatism warred in her heart. If the dragon could guard her dreams, she could sleep. Only, she did not believe her father would allow her to spend her nights in a cave in the forest.
Ciara finished dressing and then went to stand before Eirik, who was tightening the strap holding his sword’s scabbard in place. “Thank you.”
“You were of no use in a discussion when you could not keep your eyes open well enough to even retain your seat in the chair.”
She remembered almost falling over and feeling like maybe it didn’t matter. “I was so tired.”
“Aye.”
“I feel much better now.”
“I am glad.” He didn’t seem happy. He just seemed…like Eirik, prince of the Éan, untouchable.
“I’m sorry I was such a bother.”
“It was no bother. My dragon likes you.” But the man couldn’t care less.
Ciara got the message loud and clear, even if it was disheartening and confusing. She and her wolf were one in the same, though she could distinguish between the feelings and thoughts most related to the wolf rather than her humanity.
Even so, it was her wolf that craved the presence of the Éan and made no attempt to deny it. Logic told her there could be no future in the feelings the other Chrechte elicited in her. Her human mind fought Eirik’s effect on her, but it was hard.
It seemed as if Eirik had no such conflict of spirit. His dragon might like her, but the man could barely stand her.
“Well, please tell your dragon thank you.”
Eirik’s amber gaze narrowed, but he didn’t reply.
Ciara rode behind Niall on his great warhorse for the return to the keep. They were a few yards from the cave entrance when Eirik maneuvered his horse alongside them.
Niall said something she didn’t catch because she was too busy trying not to scream as Eirik grabbed her right off the back of the other warrior’s horse.