Dawn Of Desire

by Phoebe Conn

  Egan had fiercely opposed Albyn’s desire to forsake the fortress, and their friendship, to pursue a Druid’s quest, but Oriana’s prediction offered little satisfaction that he had been right years ago. “How will I recognize that crucial moment?” he asked.

  “It will be as clear as your own reflection in a placid lake,” Oriana assured him.

  “Are you thinking of that magical lake where your mother met Lugh?”

  The impatient edge had returned to his voice, but suddenly weary, she refused to argue. “Yes, but any lake will do.”

  Egan stared up at her, as much to memorize her delicate features as to study her closed expression. She had accurately described Albyn’s dilemma when he had given her no real clue as to its origin, but he wanted still more.

  “What if I were to refuse and instead insisted that he remain here with me?” he asked.

  It was his very nature to press for every advantage, and because she had given in to him once, he would be merciless in seeking more. Oriana was sorry she had deigned to confide in him.

  She had the true advantage, of course, because she could read Albyn’s future, if not Egan’s, and knew Albyn would be gone before spring. That allowed her to be creative and indulge in a bit of dark fantasy.

  “Should you dare to oppose his departure,” she reported with mock dread, “you will create a more powerful enemy than even your bloodthirsty imagination can devise. You must not even consider defying his need to seek his own fate separate from yours. Now you must excuse me, my lord. It has been a very long day, and I can no longer remain awake.”

  Egan dismissed her with a slight wave, but he continued to absorb the warmth of the fire and mull over her prophecies. Albyn was desperate to glimpse the future, while Oriana was loath to admit she possessed such a wondrous gift.

  The possibility they might make a perfect pair haunted him, but rather than forcing Albyn to stay with him as Oriana had feared, he thought his old friend would be better off gone. They would not be the first friends to part over a beautiful woman, but the possibility weighed heavily on his heart.

  Finally he rose, stretched lazily, and removed his tunic. Oriana was asleep on the far edge of the bed, but as he slipped under the furs, he kept well away from her. He propped his head on his hands, stared up at the darkened ceiling, and wished he were again sleeping beneath a canopy of stars.

  His muscles ached with fatigue, but he could not rest with Oriana so temptingly close, and he swiftly began to hate the night and its endless silences. The deathly quiet brought thoughts of his father, and he wanted to scream with rage, but he had been raised to conceal his pain no matter how terrible the hurt.

  Torn by an agonizing mixture of grief and desire, he got up to tend the fire, and when he returned to bed, he found Oriana watching him. He had never had a more lovely woman in his bed, nor shared it with one who had regarded him with such an insulting detachment.

  “You can’t sleep either?” he asked.

  “No, I have just been worrying. I should have been mindful of your grief and not spoken so crossly to you,” she murmured.

  Her hair pooled over the furs and the lush pelts’ deep colors warmed her fair skin. He could not help but find her alluring, but there was no hint of welcoming desire in her glance. His only comfort was that she had shown a similar lack of interest in Albyn.

  “When we agree on nothing, disputes are bound to occur,” he conceded generously.

  “There is one thing,” Oriana reminded him. “You would not have sought me out had you not already believed you were in some terrible danger. I once inquired as to your own instincts. I now believe they’re very good.”

  “If this is another argument in favor of your immediate departure, I would rather sleep than hear it.” Egan promptly turned his back to her and snuggled down under the furs, but he could still smell her delicious lavender scent and feel her slight weight on the bed. That he had so recently sworn never to want her struck him as demented now. Want her he did, and very badly.

  Unaware of Egan’s torment, Oriana rested her hand lightly upon his bare shoulder. “I wish you would listen rather than discount my opinions before I voice them.”

  What Egan wished was to ravish her until dawn, and he raised up as he rolled over to face her. “If you wish to become the cherished bride of some magnificent god, you’ll hush and not touch me again.”

  Oriana’s eyes widened in surprise. Egan was blocking the firelight, and it gave his silhouette a golden glow. “What has the one thing to do with the other?”

  Believing no woman could possibly be that innocent, Egan replied with a primitive growl, and with astonishing ease moved to pin her beneath him. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, nuzzled the smooth softness of her throat, then framed her face with his hands and kissed her tenderly.

  “You warned the day would come when I would want you,” he murmured against her ear.

  Dazed, it took Oriana a moment to catch her breath. “Oh, aye, now I understand,” she was barely able to whisper.

  She knew him to be an agile warrior but had not known he could move as quickly as he had just now. Only a thin linen shift separated his bare chest from her curiously aching breasts, and she had only to turn her head slightly to kiss his shoulder.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, but that only intensified the exquisite sensations created by the weight of Egan’s body. Surprisingly, she welcomed the burden until he rolled his hips to stroke the fierceness of his desire against her cleft.

  Once Oriana was of a marriageable age, her mother had described the joys of making love. Now Egan seemed intent upon providing an affectionate demonstration, and rather than refusing, she longed to slide her tongue along his bare shoulder. She would not stop there either.

  In the next instant, she felt herself falling as if from a great height and reacted with a startled jerk. “I’ll not touch you again,” she vowed through teeth clamped in anger. “Now get off me and go to sleep.”

  Egan raised up only slightly. Her voice had changed so abruptly from sweet to furious that he could only wonder what she would demand next. “Are you certain that’s what you truly want?” He grazed his thumb along her jaw as he awaited her reply.

  Oriana nearly choked on tears. “Truly.”

  The catch in her voice shamed him as nothing else would. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he swore, and sorry he had made such a clumsy mess of things, he instantly moved aside, then slid his arm under her shoulders to pull her close and cradle her head against his chest.

  “Just go to sleep, and we’ll sort out everything in the morning,” he urged.

  After a brief hesitation, Oriana relaxed against him. As she saw it, there was nothing to be sorted; she was born to be a bride in the Otherworld, not his mistress in this one. Surely it was Lugh himself who had grabbed hold and yanked her to her senses just now, but it would take a long while to recover from the frightening sensation.

  She listened as Egan’s breathing slowed into slumber’s easy rhythm, but she did not sleep until exhaustion overcame her defenses. When she awakened the next morning, Egan was gone. Her head and soul ached, and the day promised to bring nothing but sorrow.

  Egan rode Raven for the hunt, and Albyn chose a gray gelding he had admired in the stable. The pair took three plump pheasants in what had swiftly become a contest as to who was the better archer. Egan had killed two of the delicious fowl, but Albyn’s aim had proven truer on the third.

  Several of the young men who served as guards at the fortress gate had accompanied them, but they dismounted and kept to themselves when Egan and Albyn stopped to rest beneath an ancient oak.

  Egan covered a wide yawn and stretched out on his back in the shade. “Give me but a moment to rest, and I’ll find us a stag.”

  “Oriana gives you no opportunity to sleep?” Albyn teased. “It appears you’ve finally met your match. Who are her people?”

  “No one you know,” Egan exclaimed through another noisy y
awn.

  “How can that be? She is clearly a lady. Does her father approve of your taking her for mistress rather than wife? Or do you intend to marry her soon?”

  “Regretfully no, and no. Now let me rest.”

  “I offered my sword should you desire vengeance,” Albyn countered. “I’d not realized you’d been so busy making enemies of your own. Now tell me Oriana’s clan so I’ll at least know how many men we’ll have to fight.”

  “It’s always wise to keep a sharpened sword, but now you could spare the time for a nap,” Egan suggested.

  Albyn thought Egan daft but rather than argue, scanned the lush countryside. It sloped down to the cliffs bordering the sea. When they were children, they’d rolled through the heather and laughed themselves silly not far from that very spot. That day was such a distant memory, it seemed part of another lifetime now.

  “I’d rather not be caught sleeping should Oriana’s kin appear brandishing spears.”

  Unconcerned by that unlikely threat, Egan threw his arm over his eyes. “She has no one. Now hush so that I might rest, or my next arrow might go wide and strike you.”

  “There is always that danger when we hunt,” Albyn muttered under his breath.

  More amused than insulted, Egan sat up ready to pummel him, but Albyn was gazing off toward the sea. Egan turned to see what he was watching, but there was no sign of a boat on the horizon. “Are you thinking of going to sea?” he asked.

  Albyn wore a preoccupied frown. “I’ve heard of fabulous islands,” he confided almost reverently.

  “All populated by such beautiful virgins no man ever sails away,” Egan chided. “We’ve all heard those tales, and they hold no more weight than sunshine.”

  “Perhaps not, but just seeking such a glorious isle would be a fine adventure. Or I could remain here and die fighting Oriana’s kin.”

  “You must rein in your imagination, for I speak the truth when I swear she has no kin walking the earth. That is why I’ve offered her my protection. Now I have given up all hope of becoming refreshed, so let’s be on our way.”

  Albyn also struggled to his feet and brushed the leaves from his trousers. “Didn’t you just admit her father did not approve of you?”

  “That is another story,” Egan admitted, “and far too long and complicated to begin today.”

  “It isn’t like you to keep secrets,” Albyn complained.

  Egan grabbed Raven’s trailing reins, but paused to study his old friend’s puzzled expression. They had each grown a foot since they had parted, but the physical difference was but a slight change compared with all the others.

  “You’ve been away long enough for me to have a great many things to hide,” Egan scolded. “Now cease your complaining and let’s hunt as we intended.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Albyn agreed grudgingly, but despite the warning, his curiosity about the lovely Oriana continued to build. “Perhaps it was merely my imagination, or a trick of the firelight, but your lady seemed to glow with an inner light. It made her all the more enchanting.”

  “Another word about her, and I’ll pin a target to your chest and send my arrows your way on purpose,” Egan threatened, but as they continued their ride, he wondered if Albyn did not possess more insight than he had realized.

  “If you must keep that restless mind of yours occupied,” Egan suggested, “concentrate on who would have wished my father dead.”

  Albyn nodded, but he sensed they were in for a brutal fight.

  Chapter Eight

  Oriana returned to the bluff overlooking the sea. Dressed again in the blue-violet gown, she sat cross-legged in the thick grass with Egan’s wondrous amethyst lightly cradled in her folded palms. The salty breeze caressed her cheeks, gently tossed her long curls, and kept her mind clear as she attempted to focus on Egan’s fate.

  She had hoped that close to his fortress home, the knowing would speak of him, but the clouds of danger refused to lift and no more was revealed than in her earlier attempts. Determined to discover something of significance, she cast around him to concentrate on those he knew best. She swiftly settled upon Kieran.

  His face readily formed in her mind, then dissolved, leaving her to fear that his fate and Egan’s were too closely entwined to be viewed separately. Discouraged, she breathed deeply to calm her own troubled spirit and simply waited for whatever thought might appear. It was Egan’s proud grin that came to her next, attended by a deep blush at the memory of last night’s wanton kiss.

  There was a magic to his affection that she had longed to savor, but Lugh, or perhaps even her future husband himself, had promptly put an end to that folly. What tonight might bring she dared not even contemplate. Distressed her thoughts had strayed so far from her original purpose, she tightened her grasp on the glowing purple crystal and wished with all her heart to see her own future in its faceted depths.

  As they neared the fortress, Albyn was the first to catch sight of Oriana. “Look there! It’s not merely her hair that shimmers in the sunlight; her whole body has a near blinding radiance. Do you not see it?”

  Egan pulled Raven to a halt, but eager for the comforts of the stable, the horse danced with impatience. Egan slapped his mount’s neck in a gentle reproof, then turned him in a tight circle.

  “ ’Tis the light reflected off the water, nothing more,” he insisted, but he was also struck by the sheer beauty of the moment.

  Oriana had described Lugh as a being of light, but he now wondered if she had not seen a mortal man with the sun at his back and mistaken the glow for the god’s own brilliance. Then he recalled Lugh’s poignant song and ceased to wonder if he were only seeing a trick of sunlight and sea.

  He nudged Raven with his heels, and leaving the guards to carry the stag and pheasants they had slain to the fortress, he turned off the trail and rode toward Oriana. She was so still that for an instant he actually feared he might find a magnificent sculpture of wood or stone rather than a flesh and blood woman. He called her name as he dismounted and sighed with relief when she turned to face him.

  He offered his hand to help her rise and took note of the amethyst before she had time to hide it behind her back. “I’m pleased you think enough of my gift to carry it with you. The sun lends all jewels a rare beauty, and lovely ladies as well. We’ve been hunting, but I promise to provide you with fine company for the remainder of the day.”

  Albyn had also left the trail and was approaching on foot. Oriana forced a hesitant smile in greeting, then looked up at Egan. Laughter hovered on his lips and shone in his eyes, but she found nothing humorous.

  “Wasn’t Kieran with you?” she asked.

  “No, of course not. After we’d decided falcons would be a distraction, we’d scarcely have invited Kieran to come along.”

  “There will be venison for dinner,” Albyn announced as he joined them. “You mustn’t believe Egan if he claims it was his arrow that took the prize.”

  “You may have all the credit,” Egan assured him, but his glance never left Oriana’s wistful smile. “I’d not lie to her.”

  Albyn tugged on his sleeves to adjust the fit of his cloak. “I’m pleased to hear it, but I wish she’d use her influence to inspire you to be equally truthful with me.”

  Egan had moved to Oriana’s side in what she believed to be an attempt to convincingly portray her lover. He smoothed his hand along her back in small proprietary circles, creating disconcerting tingles. She stepped away to converse with Albyn, but unwilling to arouse more than a passing interest, kept her glance shyly averted.

  “Rather than lies, I find Egan speaks the truth with a near brutal flourish. I do wish you’d encourage him to treat Kieran more kindly. It is unfortunate when brothers are estranged.”

  “I’ve not seen Kieran since my arrival, my lady, but I’ll do whatever I can to cultivate harmony between Egan and his kin. I’m most curious about your family. Please describe them to me.”

  Egan took a deliberate step forward. “I warned you n
ot to pry. Consider me Oriana’s family, and you know all there is to know about me.”

  Ignoring that rebuke, Albyn moved close to brush a stray curl from Oriana’s cheek, and his voice became a husky whisper. “Your mother must have been a rare beauty. What was her name?”

  “Albyn!” Egan was ready to silence his friend with his fists, but Oriana blocked his way.

  As she deftly slid between the two men, she graced each with a smile. It was imperative that Albyn consider her charmingly naive rather than mysterious, and so she answered his question as though she had nothing to hide.

  “Not long before I was born, my mother began calling herself Rain. I’ve no idea what she’d been named at birth. Now, aren’t you men hungry?”

  She took Egan’s hand to lead him toward Raven. “I could do with a piece of fruit or small wedge of cheese. I shan’t want too much though, when you’ve promised such a fine meal tonight.”

  Egan raked Albyn with a caustic glance as he passed by, but he could see that rather than having silenced him, Oriana’s peculiar comment had merely whet his appetite for more. “Rain is a beautiful name,” he responded suddenly. “It has such a gentle sound.”

  “Yes, my mother was a lovely, sweet-tempered soul, and it suited her well.”

  Albyn studied the ease with which Egan grasped Oriana’s waist to set her astride Raven. Clearly it was not the first time they’d ridden together, but Oriana did not glance coyly over her shoulder to flirt as most young women would. She simply took told of Raven’s silken mane and held on tight.

  “Egan won’t let you fall,” Albyn assured her.

  She turned, and in a silent plea mouthed a single word: Kieran.

  Thinking her preoccupation with Egan’s younger brother odd, Albyn tarried a moment before strolling back to his horse. Their exchange had lasted a mere instant, but he wondered if there hadn’t been an unusual light in her eyes. Last night he had thought they were as green as his own, but that day, he would have sworn they were a honeyed gold. A golden-eyed woman with the beauty of a goddess would inspire poetic tributes from any bard, and he briefly considered composing one himself.