“I must check my bed. You say my monitors were left behind?"
“Aye. Do not worry about them. I can find suitable replacements."
“I need time to recover my energy."
He nodded. “I will see that Fianna tends you. How...?"
“You are not going to agree to this ridiculous scheme?” Jenna demanded from the doorway.
Liandra saw Connal's face tighten in anger.
“I thought I told you to leave,” he said coldly.
“You did. I stayed nearby in case you needed me—again. Your voices carried."
“You mean you were eavesdropping,” Connal corrected.
Jenna shrugged. “I forbid this, My Lord."
“Forbid? Woman, do you forget to whom you speak?"
“No, but I think you have taken leave of your senses."
“They are mine to take leave of if I want.” Connal smiled.
“You may think this a laughing matter, My Lord. I most certainly do not."
“There is nothing to concern yourself with, Maera Jenna. I am fully competent in what I do,” Liandra said. She stepped back in alarm as Jenna sprang forward, her hand raised.
As quick as Jenna was, Connal was faster. He interposed his body, protecting Liandra from the assault. He grasped Jenna's arm and propelled her backward.
“Understand this well. The alien is under my protection. No one may harm her. She answers only to me. Is that clear?"
Jenna stared wide-eyed up at him.
“Is that clear?” Connal repeated and she nodded. “Now, leave. I..."
“And what of the witch?"
“For the time being, she stays with me."
Jenna pursed her lips. “Just think on this, my Connal. Your mother would turn in her grave to see you consorting with a woman whose hair is green! ’Tis hardly fitting that she be your paramour, my Lord MacArran!"
He strode swiftly after Jenna, but she fled the room, the door slamming in her angry wake. Connal turned to Liandra, his face grim. “You have made one enemy today, Weaver. Not the least enemy you have here, I think."
Liandra glanced uncertainly up at him as he joined her side.
“I will give you a day to rest. After that I will undertake the sharing with you, and then, by Arran, there will be an end to this deception."
“I look forward to its conclusion with no less delight,” Liandra said dryly, and to her amazement Connal laughed long and hard.
“Come."
“Where are you taking me?"
“Back to your room."
“No!” Liandra pulled back from his grasp and in exasperation he ran a hand through his hair.
“Would you rather stay here with me?"
“Please, I can't tolerate the other place."
With eyes narrowed, he studied her. “Why are you so afraid?” he asked.
Had he picked that up from her? Liandra frowned. Surely he must be telepathic.
“An answer if you will, Weaver, and swiftly, or I shall return you to your chamber."
“It's because of what I am. A Dream-weaver you called me. I am that and much, much more. It's in the nature of my kind to live with sound and color. Remember the decor of my home? I have different sensory requirements. To be deprived of any of them will cause illness, even death. I'm not being difficult, it's how I am."
Connal cupped her chin, tilting her head. The eyes that regarded her were a softer gray. Was it a hopeful sign that he believed her?
“Aye, then I am sorry. I did not know,” he said gently. “We have little knowledge of any alien, let alone one such as you. We have no desire to interact with any foreigner."
“Yet you went to the League seeking my help, even though I am an alien."
Connal smiled grimly. “I had no other choice. Would that the circumstances have proven otherwise, for it galls me to ask your aid. You are the first off-worlder to grace my Castle, but Arran's Mercy you shall be the last! While I might grant you the liberty of different accommodation, do not mistake my consideration for a change of heart. You are still my prisoner and I intend to have my use of you, Weaver. Come.” His fingers bit into her arm as he propelled her down the corridors, his pace so fast that she had to trot to keep up with his long strides.
Now she could sense he was angry again. His shifting emotions were difficult to track, even more difficult to understand. And she was going to have to dream-search with such an unstable man? Seven Stars. After what happened the first time, what might occur the second time they dream-shared? Still, once done, Connal would know the truth and she would be free. Though all things considered, her freedom would be bought at a very high price. Freedom—an ache deep within, a longing, gone before she could examine it—a feeling that she did not want to be free. Ridiculous! This planet could offer her nothing. Soon, she would be back among civilized beings who knew how to treat one another with courtesy and respect, so very different from the man who even now was branding her flesh with the marks of his fingers, indifferent to her suffering. Surely she wanted to leave this madness behind? She glanced up at him—Connal MacArran, you are nothing more than a barbarian!
One day, she promised herself, she would look back on this incident and see it as an adventure. Maybe even laugh about it. Though, at the moment, there was nothing funny in her predicament. And that her fate rested entirely on the benevolence of a man like Connal MacArran—well, it boded ill for her.
Finally, Connal stopped in front of a door and opened it. He waved her ahead of him. “I trust this will meet with My Lady's approval,” he said.
As Liandra took a step forward, Connal grasped her wrist, halting her. With a calmness she was far from feeling, she forced herself to look at him.
“Be warned, Liandra. Fergus shall guard your door. He will tear out your heart if you leave this room without my permission."
Without waiting for her answer, Connal stepped back. With an ominous thud the door closed.
Once more, Liandra found herself alone. In darkness.
CHAPTER FIVE
He's tricked me again! Her panicked thoughts gave way as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. She saw a fine sliver of light penetrating the room through a gap in the curtains.
Rushing forward, she drew back the heavy drapes. Sunlight, beating fiercely through paned, tinted windows, cast a colored latticework on the walls and floor.
Kneeling on the window embrasure, Liandra stared down. She could see the entire length of one wing of the castle as well as the manicured gardens and the land beyond the castle walls.
Turning, she viewed her new chamber. Beautiful, and definitely not a male abode, for its decorations were unmistakably feminine, softer, more ornate, without a single weapon adorning any of the walls. Although spotlessly clean, she sensed that no one had lived within its four walls for a long time.
Drawing back more curtains, she discovered a doorway leading out onto a wide balcony. On testing it, she found it locked. That was hardly surprising, for Connal would make sure she remained in his castle, until he had finished with her. She was his prisoner, not a guest.
Liandra shuddered. What might he do to her, and how long would she remain in his custody?
She strode about the chamber, impulsively testing the heavy wooden door that led into the room. Surprisingly, it wasn't locked. Opening it cautiously, she saw Connal's monstrous animal in the corridor. It jumped to its feet, its large mouth opening in a snarl.
“It's all right, Fergus,” she said shakily. “I'm not trying to escape.”
She left the door open and in alarm, watched as Fergus trotted forward to settle his great body down on the threshold of her apartment. As she moved about the chamber, she could feel the creature's gaze on her body.
Another door led off her bedroom. She inspected the bathroom with its unfamiliar contrivances. Well, it was better than she had hoped. Not up to League standards, but certainly far from primitive. Liandra experimented with every fixture before returning to the main chamber. In dismay,
she noticed Fergus had inched his way further into her room.
Liandra heard Fianna's voice in the corridor. Moments later, she appeared at the doorway.
“Fergus! Get out of the way!” In response, the hound settled his head firmly between his paws. “You be the most stubborn beast I know!” Fianna cried, stepping over the dog's prostrate body.
Liandra's smile faded as a huge man with curling red hair and beard joined Fianna's side. His wary brown eyes fixed her to the spot, his forearm muscles rippled as he flexed his fingers over the handle of his knife. Perhaps a silent warning to her? She stepped backwards, retreating to the relative sanctuary of the opposite side of the room.
Fianna dumped a bundle of clothes on the bed. “Our chieftain thought you might have need of these.”
Liandra glanced down, surprised to see that among the items Fianna had brought were several of her favorite garments, stolen—like herself—from her League apartment.
His selection was more than a lucky guess. While Connal MacArran would deny it, maybe he was not even aware of it, Liandra was certain his random choice resulted from some telepathic ability.
“I have brought you some other things, as well.” Fianna held out more items of clothing, which included a heavy woolen shawl. “The nights can grow chill, Mistress. You will be pleased to have this, I think."
Liandra quickly sorted through the clothes. “Thank you for your kindness, but see here.” She held up the gold girdle, still attached to her counselor's robe. “This is my enviro belt. It responds to my environment, so no need for bulky clothing."
“Truly? What a marvel!” Fianna said.
Liandra stroked the opalescent gown she'd been wearing the day Connal had first come to her. How long ago that now seemed!
“Connal was most specific in his orders to me. You are to eat and rest. Is there any particular food I can bring you? He said your tastes are different to ours."
“When Connal abducted me, he didn't think to bring my food?"
Fianna bit her lip. “No. However, Castle MacArran's kitchens are extensive, the best on Caledonia. I can bring you almost anything.”
“I don't suppose you have dennamaz or tansred?”
“What are they?"
“Liquid supplements. They have everything I need for optimum health."
Fianna smiled her disbelief. “Only such? No real food?"
Liandra frowned, trying to draw the impressions of Caledonian food from the recesses of her subconscious. She shuddered at the array of ‘delicacies’ flashing before her eyes.
“Nothing that has lived, no creature of flesh and blood. I refuse to touch that, whatever Connal says."
“Very well. Will you take tea, also?"
“Tea?” Liandra asked, and immediately the image of some steaming liquid came to mind. “I suppose."
“Good. There is one more thing.” Fianna edged to Liandra's side. “Dougall, your guard, he is not as ferocious as he looks. However, he shall ensure that you do not leave your chamber."
Liandra glanced over Fianna's shoulder and saw Dougall sitting on a chair outside her door.
“He cannot be persuaded, as you did to me,” Fianna said.
“For that I'm sorry. Was Connal angry with you for allowing me to do that to you?"
“I did not allow you to do such, Mistress."
Liandra smiled. “I could never put the sleep on you if you didn't have some empathy for me."
Fianna nodded. “I suppose I did feel sorry for you. As for Connal...” She laughed. “Over the years, I have weathered many of his angry moods. Do not ever touch me like that again."
“I won't.”
“Good."
Liandra sorted through the toiletries and other items Fianna had brought. The name of each item flashed through her mind. Soap, toothbrush, shampoo—on and on in a confusing parade. She quickly hunted through her clothes.
“What is it you seek?” Fianna asked gently.
“My ring. It isn't here."
“This was all Connal gave me. If you like I can ask him for you?"
“Thank you."
Fianna gently touched Liandra's arm. “I will try and make your stay here as pleasant as possible. It must be very difficult for you to accept what has been done."
“Save your sympathy for someone who deserves it!” Jenna swept into the chamber, her rich red robes billowing about her. “I do not know why you show her any compassion, Fianna. ’Tis quite probable she bedded down with your Garris."
“I've never had any man,” Liandra said.
“Only in your dreams, then? I doubt that very much. Still, whatever the truth, you would be enough to turn the stomach of any man. My Connal has not been the same since he came back from off-world."
“You have an acid tongue, Jenna. The outlander is our guest."
“Do you take her side, over that of your own sister?"
Liandra looked from Jenna to Fianna, not understanding. How could two sisters be so different, in looks, in temperament?
Jenna's face darkened in fury. “'Tis only I then, it seems, who is not smitten by this alien bitch! I grant you anything you like, Fianna, she plied her trade on your Garris. Why would he forsake your bed for hers, unless...?"
“Please do not!” Fianna burst into tears.
Liandra moved to interpose herself between the two as she saw Jenna's triumphant, malicious smile. “Maera Jenna, you..."
“What goes on here?” Connal's chillingly calm voice intruded. He strode into the chamber. “What mischief are you causing now?” His steely eyes rested on Liandra.
She flushed, outraged. “Why do you immediately assume I'm to blame?"
“She did not start it, lord,” Fianna said.
“It ends here, and now! Is that clear?” Connal looked at the women, each in turn, his cold gaze resting on Liandra.
“I have no wish to cause trouble,” she insisted.
“No wish? Perhaps. Yet trouble seems to find you."
“That's only too true,” Liandra said. “You arrived at my apartment door."
At that he almost smiled, but caught himself in time, Liandra saw. He turned to his kinswomen. “The witch and I have plans to make. Leave us."
While Fianna scurried away, Jenna was slow to obey.
“I am in no mood for your games, Jennie. Get you gone!"
Connal stared down at the clothes on the bed, noting the additional items that Fianna had, on her own initiative, supplied to the witch. He nodded. To be expected, Fianna's heart was too soft, too soft by far, to deal with his unwelcome guest.
He turned back to Liandra. She watched him warily. By Arran! He felt a flash of irritation that she regarded him thus. No matter who she was, he did not like to be the cause of her dismay. But, he reminded himself; he had deliberately set out to subdue her by hinting that if necessary he would inflict violence upon her to ensure her co-operation. What a tangled web he had spun for himself!
“I trust this chamber is more to your liking?” he asked gently.
“It is. Thank you for your consideration."
“Is there anything else I may bring to make your stay here less traumatic for your alien sensibilities?"
“Do you mean that?"
“Aye."
“There are two things. The door leading outside is locked. I'd like to walk in the open, I find these four walls very difficult to bear."
Connal folded his arms and eyed her shrewdly. “Not looking for a chance to escape, are you?”
“Escape? Where would I go if I did leave this castle? There's only wilderness."
“You have the way of it, Liandra. Wilderness, it is. Not to my people, of course, because we are skilled woodsmen. Even so, we enter it with caution. A woman such as yourself, who knows nothing but controlled, sterile environments, would quickly die of exposure. I will see to it that Fianna brings you the key. And the other?"
“A small thing. When you found me, I was wearing a ring. It's not among my belongings."
; Connal's throat constricted. That ring and the memories it invoked! The feel of her skin, her taste ... He swallowed down hard. “I remember it,” he said. “It must be in my chamber."
“My mother gave me that ring. I'll be very upset if it's lost due to your interference—"
Connal smiled bleakly. “I have a lost kinsman to worry about, more important, by far, than a trifling ring."
Liandra sighed. “So we're back to Garris?"
“Come with me,” Connal said, and before she could move, he had taken her arm in that fierce grip of his. He propelled her to the door.
Liandra managed to wrench away. “Must you always treat me so roughly? You've already given me bruises, you callous barbarian."
“I have what?” he demanded. He reached out and pushed up one of her sleeves.
She saw the look of skepticism turn to a frown as he viewed the red welts on her skin.
Reaching out, he cupped her chin, tilting her head, so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes.
“I did this to you? For that I be sorry, witch,” he said. “Perhaps I underestimate my strength, or are your kind so fragile? I apologize to you. It shall not happen again. Please, come with me."
Gently, but firmly he placed a hand under her elbow and escorted her to the open doorway. Immediately Dougall and the hound jumped to their feet.
“Where are you taking me?” Liandra asked.
“'Tis a surprise."
“I've had quite enough surprises recently, thank you!"
Silently, he ushered her down the passage. Glancing back, Liandra saw Dougall and Fergus following, at a discreet distance.
Connal pushed open a door and waved Liandra ahead of him. The concern at where she was being taken and for what purpose fled the instant she saw her crystal bed.
With a delighted cry, she rushed forward. The bed's familiar vibrations were a welcome respite to the alien emanations of Caledonia. She rested her cheek against one crystalline post and closed her eyes, allowing the swirling vibrations, caressing with sound and color, to enter her mind and soul. How long she remained like it, she did not know, only Connal's hand on her shoulder, brought her back to the present.
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