Dawn Of Desire

by Phoebe Conn

  Albyn kept his gaze focused upon the mountain until the sun’s last rays were swallowed by the sea. The guards had already lit their lanterns, and he moved aside so he could sit in full view of the gate. He had not thought he was hungry until Kieran brought him a platter heaped with roasted boar and warm bread.

  Kieran sat down beside Albyn and began to devour the meat on his own platter with undisguised gusto. “I don’t want you falling asleep tonight, Druid, for should Egan suffer any misfortune, I mean to call upon you to vouch for my innocence.”

  In the muted light, Kieran resembled Egan so closely that Albyn had to remind himself to remain guarded. “I welcome the food, if not your company, but I wish you’d brought some ale.”

  Kieran immediately sent one of the guards to fetch them some, and the fellow returned with a pitcher and two tankards. “Anything else you’d like? I can highly recommend Fiona’s company.”

  Albyn could only vaguely recall which woman she was. “No, I’d not want the unfortunate lass to become dissatisfied with you.”

  Rather than take offense, Kieran was highly amused by Albyn’s attempt at humor, and he paused before taking another bite. “You should try Egan’s wing. Even dangling briefly from mine has changed my whole view of the world.”

  Albyn shot him a skeptical glance. “Have you come to regret the attempt on your brother’s life?”

  Kieran shrugged. “I still believe I’d make the better king.”

  “Then pursue a crown elsewhere,” Albyn advised before breaking off a bite of bread. “The day of Egan’s coronation, I mean to set out on my own journey. You’d be wise to travel farther than a wing could take you.”

  Kieran continued to eat until he had satisfied his appetite. He then set his platter aside and took a long drink of ale. “I’m too curious about how the morrow will end to begin making plans tonight.”

  “It will end with Egan king of the Dál Cais, with Oriana by his side.”

  “She is a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Kieran admitted under his breath.

  Albyn did not trust himself to respond with more than a distracted nod, but he still suspected Kieran meant to do Egan grievous harm and intended to keep him in sight.

  It was very late when Garrick made his way to Ula’s chamber, and the wind was howling down off Mount Royal and fluttered the tapestries lining the corridors. The diminutive beauty had left the feast early, and the Druid had delayed his arrival to make certain she would be thoroughly bored and eager to welcome him. Unfortunately, she was pacing her chamber and gestured with a wine goblet as he entered.

  “Cadell never loved me. Oh, he took his pleasure with me, and often, but all the while he closed his eyes and pretended that I was Adelaine.”

  Garrick removed the goblet from her hand and set it aside. He bent to whisper in her ear. “I never pretend with you.”

  Ula continued to pace as though he had not spoken. “To Cadell, I was never as beautiful as Adelaine, never as charming, never as wise. I was merely the woman in his bed, never the woman in his heart. She was alive to him every minute we were wed. I was nothing more than a flickering lamp compared to the brilliance of Adelaine’s fire. Kieran is twice the man Egan will ever be, but Cadell never once thanked me for giving him such a fine son.”

  Disgusted she would brush aside his affection, Garrick sat down upon the end of her bed, but though he was accustomed to her vindictive tirades, he had little patience tonight.

  Ula’s dark eyes glowed with a malevolent light as she turned toward him. “Cadell truly deserved to die, didn’t he?”

  If not high regard, Garrick and Cadell had shared mutual respect, and he had been as shocked by the king’s untimely death as the rest of his household. Ula’s grief had been profound, or so it had appeared when she had sought refuge in his arms.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Ula cocked her head slightly. “Why do you look so perplexed? Last year, when I asked you for poison to rid my chamber of vermin, did you actually believe I meant to use it solely on mice?”

  Ula had always been prone to violent fits of temper, but he had never even imagined that she might kill her husband. He rose to his feet and struggled to understand what had actually happened. “Were all who fell ill victims of the poison?” he asked.

  Ula stepped toward him with a slow, seductive sway. “No, I merely took advantage of an illness that arrived unbidden on its own. Aren’t you proud of me, Garrick? The wind has a piercing shriek tonight, and by dawn, Egan and his whore will surely be dead. Then Kieran will be king. He’ll follow your guidance as Cadell never did. Isn’t that what you’ve craved all along?”

  Her fluttering touch was now revolting, and he grabbed her hands before she could begin to stroke his chest. Her expression had turned petulant, as though she had expected softly voiced praise rather than the horror her confession had inspired. She had never had a placid disposition, but he had not realized until that very instant that she was completely mad.

  Perhaps she always had been. He had been a fool to use her supple body and overlook the fury of her endless hatreds. He was her closest adviser, and if it were ever learned that he had supplied the poison, no one would believe that he had not ordered her to kill Cadell. She had trapped him in her wretched plot and it took every bit of his considerable self-restraint not to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until he had choked off her last breath.

  It was only the fervent hope that Egan would not survive a night on Mount Royal that kept him calm enough to step away from her. “We’ll not speak of this again,” he vowed. “We must rise early, and I want you to sleep so that you’ll look your loveliest at dawn.”

  He stepped around her and left before she could argue that neither of them needed to sleep alone, but he barely made it to his own chamber before he began to retch. It had begun to rain, and he took comfort in the threat to Egan’s life while he strove to salvage his own.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  As soon as Egan pronounced their hastily constructed shelter complete, he led Oriana inside and pulled her down upon his lap. He fed her tasty bites of cheese and bread, and encouraged her to sip ale until she grew sleepy. But she slept only fitfully and cuddled closer.

  “You are the best of champions,” she insisted between muffled yawns. She savored the soothing rhythm of Egan’s heartbeat beneath her ear, but she gradually became aware of another softly insistent sound.

  “Has it begun to rain?” she asked.

  “Aye, the raindrops are splattering against the topmost leaves, but the thickness of the branches and my cloak should keep us dry.”

  A flash of lightning scorched the sky, and a raucous clap of thunder rattled the whole tree. The wind rose in a mournful wail, but enclosed in a leafy cocoon, they remained perfectly dry.

  Egan still could not shake a disquieting sense of foreboding. Whenever Oriana murmured his name in a sleepy drawl, he hugged her and encouraged her to rest peacefully, while his own anxiety grew increasingly acute.

  He pressed Oriana’s head to his shoulder, and his wrist brushed against the necklace of wooden beads she had slipped beneath her gown. He was sorry he had not thought to carve one for her with the same ambitious devotion his father had shown his mother. Of course, they had had no formal courtship during which he could have showered Oriana with thoughtful gifts.

  “The wind has such an evil howl,” she whispered, “but surely no one has followed us up the mountain.”

  She brushed her fingertips over the stubble peppering her husband’s cheek. “I had longed to return to the forest with you. Let’s cherish the night. Make love to me.”

  Egan thought surely the brutal wind had twisted her words into what he longed to hear. “I could not have understood you,” he complained softly.

  Oriana slid her hand over his shoulder. His muscles were knotted with tension, and she began to knead his flesh with a smooth, circular touch. “You understood me perfectly, and somehow, I doubt that you have refused m
any women.”

  Egan smothered his laughter in her tangled curls. “Nay, you’re badly mistaken, for I have very discerning tastes. I’ve not slept with every comely lass who’s sent me an inviting glance.”

  “It’s much too dark for you to appreciate just how enticing my glance is.” Oriana skipped her hand down his chest, over the flatness of his belly, then between his legs to cup him gently in her palm. “You should be able to feel this though,” she insisted.

  There was a sturdy branch at Egan’s back, and without a moments hesitation, he relaxed against it. He caught Oriana’s wrist and pressed her hand along the length of his hardening shaft.

  “In this hasty shelter, we’ll have to take care,” he warned.

  “I have always taken care with you.” She slipped her hand from beneath his to loosen his belt and free him from his woolen pants. His sex sprang warm and heavy in her hands, and he responded to an easy downward tug with a grateful moan.

  Oriana slid from his lap so she could bend to swirl her tongue over the tip of his manhood. When Egan arched his back and grabbed her hair, she hesitated to give him another such intimate kiss.

  He drew in a ragged breath. “You mustn’t stop.”

  Pleased to affect him so strongly, Oriana tasted him again, then drew him deep into her mouth. She felt tremors of desire shoot through his belly and quiver down his thighs. His grateful response encouraged further devotion, and following his generous example, she braced herself against his knee to give still more. She traced featherlight circles with her fingertips over his sack, and wished she could see as well as feel his flesh tighten.

  She could have explored his masculine strength endlessly, but he could stand only so much of her affectionate torture before he had to grab her waist and yank her across his lap. She welcomed him into her depths, but he quickly raised her up, and then eased her back down onto his shaft to create a teasing torment of his own.

  Oriana laced her fingers in his hair to savor his hungry kisses. He held her tightly, but she twisted and rocked back and forth to caress his whole body with her own. Overwhelmed by desire, she rode their shared passion to another shattering surrender. The faint pounding of the rain echoed her heartbeat and gradually slowed to a blissful lullaby.

  Oriana awoke when the first rosy glimmer of dawn seeped through their leafy curtains. Egan was still asleep, and she traced the gentle curve of his ear with her thumb. When he opened his eyes and smiled, she leaned close to kiss him.

  “You are going to be a great king and much loved by your people,” she swore convincingly.

  “Our people,” Egan corrected, then, struck by the improvement in her appearance, he straightened. “Your bruises are gone. Let me see your hands.”

  Oriana wiggled her fingers. While her nails were short, they were no longer painfully torn. The deep scratches on her palms and arms had healed and left only faint scars. Even her clothes, while slightly wrinkled, were no longer ripped and mud-stained.

  “It appears we’ve spent the night in an enchanted tree,” she murmured.

  “The only magic is in you,” Egan assured her. “I’ll remember last night forever.”

  Oriana raised her hand to caress his cheek, and he placed a light kiss in her palm. “I treasure all my memories of you,” she confided wistfully.

  Egan had no chance to create more loving memories before they heard Albyn calling his name. Disgusted to be so rudely yanked into the day, he raked his hair from his eyes. “Damn. He sounds frantic. What could have happened now?”

  “I dare not even speculate,” Oriana replied.

  Egan kissed her soundly, and after adjusting his clothing, he crawled by her to exit their shelter without bumping his head.

  He relieved himself against the mountainside, then stretched to shake off the night. As Albyn came running into view, Egan complained loudly, “Hush. You’ve awakened every bird on the mountain.”

  Albyn slid to a startled halt, his mouth agape. “At first light, Garrick sent Druids out to the sacred grove to prepare for your ceremony. They were dismayed to find a deep hole where one of the ancient oaks had stood, but I swear, it’s growing right here.”

  “It would appear so.” Egan had been mystified by the sudden appearance of the tree on the mountain, but it had been such a welcome sight, he had given no thought to its original location.

  “But how did you move it?” Albyn reached out to touch the closest branch and found it solid wood rather than mere illusion. “Did Oriana do this?”

  “No. The tree was simply here when we rounded the bend in the trail, but I’ll be grateful if you’ll tell all who’ll listen that the gods sent it to bless our marriage. Now if you’ve come all the way up here to wake us, you’ve succeeded. How did you cross the break in the trail?”

  “I cut a sapling to form a narrow bridge. We might have to add to it for Oriana.”

  Oriana peered out of the tree, and finding the men engaged in a pleasant conversation, she joined them. “I hope you weren’t worried, Albyn. As you can see, Egan and I passed a remarkably safe night.”

  “In a sacred oak it appears,” Egan added. “Give me a moment to change my tunic, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Albyn again reached out to caress the oak as though it were a sacred talisman. “You may not be so anxious to leave here when you learn Duncan O Floinn arrived with the dawn. He could not have come to witness your coronation ceremony either.”

  Oriana flinched at Duncan’s name, for surely he planned to denounce her and battle Egan. Badly shaken, she reached out for the solidity of the mountainside to steady her.

  “Why does nothing run smoothly for us?” she moaned.

  Egan winked at her. “One thing does, and when we are so finely matched a pair in that regard, nothing else matters.”

  She was in no mood to jest. “Though Albyn has proven his loyalty, what you have always failed to understand is that I am a threat to all other Druids. I can actually see into the future, and they can only pretend.”

  Egan shot Albyn a dark glance. “Would Garrick harm her?”

  Albyn nodded. “To aid Kieran as much as to protect himself, yes, he would.”

  Egan reached for Oriana’s hand. “If you feared this all along, why did you follow me into the fortress the day I sent you away?”

  She had known he would need her, but there was a far more compelling reason. “Even in the fog, I recognized my path.”

  “But I thought you couldn’t tell your own fortune.”

  “I can’t, but you’d already touched my heart.” When he gave a welcoming tug, she stepped into his arms.

  Egan looked over her head to Albyn. “When Lugh uproots trees to shelter us, Garrick won’t dare harm us. Now, if I’d killed Duncan as you’d wished, nay, demanded, then he’d not be alive to menace us now. Clearly you were right and I was wrong; just do not remind me of it in front of my kin.”

  “I won’t, but if your people still won’t accept me as queen, you’ll have to let me go.”

  Egan pushed her back a step. “The bond between us is far too strong for me to rule without you. You must feel the same powerful link.”

  “Yes, I won’t lie to you,” she promised.

  “Good. Albyn, look after my beloved while I gather up our belongings.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” Albyn assured them both, but when he extended a steadying hand, Oriana shied away from him.

  Egan entered their shelter for a moment, then returned to the trail to remove his cloak and yank off his tunic. He had grown accustomed to the tight pull of his stitches, but as he removed a clean tunic from Oriana’s travel bag, a piece of black thread floated across his hand. Believing a stitch must have come loose on its own, he paused to glance down at his side.

  Amazed to find the ugly black trail gone, he turned to Albyn. “Did you intend for the stitches to fall out on their own?”

  “I’ve not sewn up that many men, but no.” Albyn stepped around Oriana to take a closer look at Egan’s
side and found that only a faint white line crossed his ribs.

  “Once Duncan learns a tree moved from our sacred grove and how quickly your wounds heal, he’ll not still possess the courage to fight you. Now, even if you won’t share the spell for moving trees, you must at least tell me how you healed so rapidly.”

  Recalling Oriana’s sensuous kisses, Egan ran his thumb down his side. Had he not keenly felt the bloody gash when Kieran slashed him, he would not accept another’s word that he had been cut. “I credit the enchanted oak for the healing, but the tree hasn’t revealed its secrets. Now, let’s be on our way while good luck still surrounds us.”

  Oriana waited for Egan to pull a clean tunic over his head and repin his cloak, and then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. When she stepped back, her golden eyes burned with a fiery light.

  “If you must fight Duncan, give me a sword, and I’ll fight with you.”

  “In all my travels, I’ve heard no tales of such remarkable bravery in a woman,” Albyn murmured in awe.

  Egan gripped Oriana’s waist lightly. “I’ve at least a dozen men who can be counted upon to be your equal with a sword, and I’ll not feel abandoned if you are secure in my chamber.”

  “Do not laugh at me,” Oriana warned darkly.

  “Aye, you would be worth a dozen men, but I need you to be a loving wife rather than a mighty warrior.”

  Albyn watched Egan enfold Oriana in such a tender embrace, she swiftly ceased any effort to resist and leaned into him. They swayed in each other’s arms, and embarrassed to witness such an intimate exchange, the Druid had to turn away.

  No woman had ever clung to him with Oriana’s fierce protectiveness, and overwhelmed with longing, he forced a cough to remind his friends of his presence. “Give me whatever must be carried,” he quickly offered, “and I’ll lead the way down to make certain the trail is safe after last night’s rain.”

  Egan gave his bride a last hug, then stooped to retrieve the bags of provisions and clothing. “Don’t change your gown. That one, while subdued in color, will remind everyone where you spent the night, and their sympathy will be with you.”