Ensnared by the Dream Lord (Dark Lords)

by Jaide Fox

  Slowly, a smile curled his lips. “I am glad they pleased you,” he responded, rising from his chair and closing the distance between them. “Will you walk in the garden with me?”

  Adriana was a little disconcerted, and disappointed, when they reached the gardens and she discovered that it was dark and there was barely enough light to make out the pathways. She dismissed it, however, and found that she enjoyed the stroll anyway, because she was with Morpheus.

  Later, when he carried her to her bed and made love to her, despite her anxiety of what might come of it, she found it impossible to resist the temptation to caress him as he caressed her. Touching him thrilled and saddened her all at once. How long would this last until she was rescued, or escaped? When they lay together afterwards, sated, enjoying the closeness of two lovers who had thoroughly pleased one another, the sadness stole over her again that it was not to be. She would have liked nothing better than to lie in Morpheus’ arms forever.

  His tenderness was almost more than she could bear, for it only accentuated her fears that he might fall in love her. So long as he had been passionate but had shown little gentleness, she had been able to convince herself that it was merely lust, that it could not bring disaster down upon them. She could enjoy it to her heart’s content.

  As the days passed, however, and each new day he showered her with gifts more beautiful and wonderful than the day before, she became more and more anxious to leave him, knowing that it was already far too late for her.

  She had known that she loved him before he had brought her to his castle. She had cared so much for him that she had not been able to bring herself to risk his life. Now, she loved him far more than she had thought possible and each day it became more difficult for her to go on pretending that she didn’t love him.

  * * * *

  Doubt invaded Morpheus’ mind as he stroked the dark, glossy coat of the gift he had captured and tamed for Adriana. The winged mare did not have the speed that his own night-mare was capable of, but she was every bit as fine an animal, spirited without being mean.

  His doubts did not concern the mare itself, nor Adriana’s pleasure in it. He could not believe she would be less than thrilled with the gift.

  His concern was that he was not entirely convinced that she would stay if she had a way to go. She smiled often. She even laughed at times, but a great sadness still lingered in her eyes that nothing seemed to eradicate.

  He could not fathom it.

  He had wooed her as any mortal lover would have, he knew. Each day he had filled her bed chamber with the flowers that seemed to give her so much joy. Each night he had caressed her with great care, striving to do all the things that gave her the utmost pleasure. He had given her gifts, treated her as a princess, and still he could see that something troubled her deeply. As hard as he had tried, he had found nothing that seemed to give her peace, contentment.

  Sighing irritably, he returned his attention to grooming the mare. If this gift did not chase her sadness, he could not think of anything else to try. It was a sense of desperation that had driven him to offering it.

  He knew that it was risky, but he had finally decided that he must know one way or the other if he had convinced her to stay with him. He could keep her a prisoner as her father had—forever if the whim struck him, but he had finally realized that part of his own dissatisfaction was knowing that she did not stay of her own free will, that she stayed because he held her captive.

  Dismissing his misgivings finally, he placed a spell upon the little mare that would allow her to roam the pasture but no further and returned to the castle to devise the best way to present his gift to Adriana.

  * * * *

  Adriana studied the riding dress that had been laid out for her with a strange mixture of emotions she found difficult, at first, to identify. Dread, she finally realized, was uppermost. The riding dress could only mean that Morpheus meant to take her riding. It might mean nothing more than that he intended to take her upon Despair’s back, but it could mean that he intended to take her home.

  Perhaps, as she had thought, he had wearied of her?

  That thought made her feel like crying but at the same time there was a measure of relief in it. She had told herself from the first, after all, that Morpheus felt only lust for her and lust without love could not last. Eventually, no matter how bright the flame, it would consume itself.

  It would be easier when she was away from him, for she would not have to pretend any longer than she did not love him.

  It was for the best—for him.

  She could not bear to think what life would be without him anymore than she could bring herself to think of his death. She would endure, though. In time, she knew it would cease to hurt so much. Perhaps, in time she would even be able to look back upon the time that they had been together with pleasure in the memories.

  She didn’t really believe that, but it was possible she supposed.

  Morpheus was grinning broadly when she reached the main hall, waiting for her near the entrance. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she gazed at his handsome face, more handsome now, youthful in his excitement.

  He produced a scarf.

  Disconcerted, Adriana smiled anyway. “Why! It’s lovely! Thank you!”

  He chuckled, grabbing her and turning her so that her back was to him. “This is not the gift, little goose!” he murmured huskily as he leaned near her ear.

  “It isn’t?”

  He placed the scarf carefully over her eyes and tied it snugly behind her head. “No.”

  Adriana’s heart sped as it occurred to her that it was a lover’s game. Before she could get too breathless with excitement, he caught her hand, leading her. Nervous, Adriana waved her free arm before her. He pulled her close. “I will not allow you to hurt yourself, sweeting. Trust me.”

  Adriana swallowed with an effort, but nodded. She was comforted by his nearness and curious now of what he meant to show her. For it seemed that he walked with her a very long way before he halted at last and whipped the scarf from her eyes.

  Blinking to focus, Adriana stared hard in astonishment for many moments, struck speechless. She glanced at Morpheus. “It’s … a winged horse.”

  He chuckled, tapping her chin lightly. “It is your winged mare.”

  “Mine?” Adriana gasped, turning to look at the beautiful black horse again. “Oh, but—Morpheus! I can’t…. You shouldn’t have!”

  He grasped her around the waist, lifting her from her feet and twirling in a tight circle with her. “You can and you must. She has spirit, but I have gentled her for you. You need have no fear of her.”

  When he had set her on her feet once more, she moved to the mare and cautiously traced the white blaze on the mare’s forehead that was the only spot that was not inky black, for even the mare’s mane and tail were dark. “What is she called?” Adriana asked abruptly.

  He tilted his head. “She is yours. You must give her a name.”

  Adriana’s lips curled up in a smile. “Morpheus. I will name her Morpheus.”

  His brows drew together. “It is a mare. That is not a fitting name.”

  Adriana chuckled at his expression. “I was only teasing you,” she said, smiling up at him as he caught her around the waist and pulled her close. Without even thinking about it, she lifted her arms and encircled his neck.

  “That is a dangerous game—teasing the Lord of the Night.”

  Her smile wavered. She knew he was teasing her as she had teased him, but the reminder brought her crashing back to Earth. “Then what do you think I should name her?”

  He shook his head. “Think on it while we ride,” he said, lifting her to the mare’s back. She settled a little uneasily, for she had not ridden in quite some time, and never upon the back of a winged horse.

  Morpheus whistled for his own steed, who answered the summons in an angry rush that caused Adriana’s mare to shift nervously. The mare quieted at her soothing touch, though, and Adriana was r
eassured. If the night-mare had not frightened the little winged horse into bolting, she was mild mannered indeed.

  Soaring so high above the ground was unnerving at first, but also exhilarating. Before long, Adriana found herself relaxing and enjoying herself as she and Morpheus put both horses through their paces. After a time, Morpheus guided both mares earthward and Adriana found that they had landed in a meadow near a babbling brook.

  A picnic awaited them.

  When they had eaten their fill and washed up in the little brook, Adriana sat beside Morpheus, who’d stretched out on the cloth, staring up at the sky. When she was settled, he shifted, using her lap for a pillow.

  She found she couldn’t resist the temptation to play with his dark hair, stroking her fingers through the silky strands.

  “That feels … good,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed.

  “Does it?” Adriana asked, smiling down at him and yielding to the temptation to caress his face, his strong square jaw, and soft lips.

  Just when she had decided that he had drifted into slumber, he looped an arm around her shoulders and dragged her down for a kiss, then tumbled her to the blanket and rolled over her. She chuckled at his playfulness, but the sighs and moans and the heat of desire soon replaced her amusement as he slowly stripped her clothing from her, piece by piece, kissing each patch of skin he unveiled.

  Adriana could not seem to help herself. She could not hold her love for him back any longer. Instead, she stroked him lovingly as he caressed her, meeting each kiss and returning it. And when at last they lay sated in each other’s arms, she knew why.

  She could not bring herself to go without saying goodbye.

  * * * *

  Two days passed before Adriana found the opportunity that she had been waiting for, watching for in an agony of indecision. She did not want to go. She wanted to dismiss everything that Drago Kadar had told her about the legend of Morpheus.

  There was no saying, after all, that she would be the one to bring about his death, even if what Drago had told her about the legend was true.

  In her heart, though, she feared that there might be some truth to it, and she could not blithely ignore the possibility. She could not willfully tempt fate to do its worst only for her own happiness.

  For what happiness would she have if she discovered, too late, that the legend was true? She would want to die. At least, if she left, she would have the comfort of knowing that Morpheus lived. Mayhap, sometime, he would even come to her in her dreams.

  She could not endure thinking about a future without him at all though, and that possibility, slender though it was, gave her no comfort.

  She was terrified as she crept from the castle and called her winged mare to her, fearful that Morpheus would stop her—sick with dread that he would not and she would have no excuse to stay a while longer.

  When he did not appear in the pasture, she swallowed against the hard knot of unshed tears that made it almost impossible to breathe and hoisted herself onto the mare’s back. For several moments after she had mounted, she simply stared desolately at the castle that had been her home for so many weeks.

  Resolutely, she turned the mare and urged her into a gallop across the fields. Her stomach went weightless as the mare leapt at last into the air and soared to the tops of the trees.

  She did not look back again. She knew it was useless to do so in any event, for her tears blinded her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Adriana had no idea how she managed to find her way to her sister, Cerise’s home. She had certainly been of no mind to know or care where she went. She supposed, though, that it was as she’d thought before. They had been searching for her and when she appeared on the winged mare they had guided her.

  She fell into her sister’s arms and wept. Cerise was furious. Cuddling her younger sister, she guided her to a bed chamber and tucked her into bed. Nothing she could say seemed to comfort Adriana, however. When ever she would say what a horrible beast the man was to put her poor little sister through so much, Adriana would only shake her head and wail louder. Each time she offered to send her husband to slay Morpheus, Adriana would bolt upright and forbid it, and then begin to wail all over again.

  Confused, Cerise stayed until Adriana had finally exhausted herself and fallen asleep, then left to discuss the matter with her husband, Daegon.

  “How is she?”

  Cerise shook her head. “She will only weep. She cannot talk for weeping. That horrible man! I offered to have him tortured by stripping the skin from his hide in little pieces, but she will have none of that either. She made me promise that I would not do any such thing, but I cannot bear to see her so unhappy.”

  Daegon studied her thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is because she loves him?”

  “Pish! You would not think so if you had seen the way she carries on!”

  “It is precisely because of the way she is ‘carrying on’ that the thought occurs to me,” Daegon said dryly. “Drago did say that she had no interest in going with him until he had told her of the legend. Until that moment, she seemed very determined that Morpheus would come for her and take her to his castle and she did not seem to dislike the idea, my dear.”

  Cerise flopped onto a bench, sighing. “I hate to say it, but I fear you are right. How absolutely dreadful for poor Adriana! What can we do?”

  Daegon shrugged. “There is nothing you or I can do, my love. Time heals all wounds.”

  For a week Cerise soothed and petted Adriana the best she could, trying to tempt her with every sort of special treat that came to mind. Nothing helped. It seemed that almost everything she thought to offer reminded Adriana in some way of Morpheus and she would burst into tears again. She refused to be coaxed from her chamber, or even from her bed.

  Cerise ran out of patience by the middle of the second week. Instead of trying to coax Adriana from her room, she sent Daegon to carry her downstairs and settle her on one of the padded chairs in the main hall. “I have a letter from father,” she announced brightly when Adriana merely sat like a stone, staring into space.

  The comment pierced her self-absorption. “Father?” she echoed, as if she had never heard the word before.

  “Yes,” Cerise said firmly. “He writes that he misses us both, but he is glad that you and I are having such a nice visit, for he had grown worried about you.”

  Adriana looked conscience stricken. “Oh—oh my! I forgot that I had meant to send Father a letter once I got here.”

  Cerise waved that away. “I had instructed Drago to leave a note for him so that he wouldn’t worry when you disappeared. I saw no reason to tell him you never made it until we were assured you were safe.”

  Adriana’s chin wobbled.

  “Don’t you dare start to weep again!” Cerise snapped.

  Adriana sniffed. “I am certain I have cried myself out.”

  “I wish I was as certain of it!”

  Adriana sent her sister a resentful glare. “I cannot help that I am so miserable!”

  “You can. You have not tried,” Cerise said bracingly.

  “I love him so much! It’s horrible to have no choice at all!”

  “You made your choice,” Cerise said quietly, but more kindly. “You loved him enough to give him up so that no harm would come to him. Now you must go on with your life.”

  Adriana stared at her sister, feeling anger slowly surge to the surface. “That is easy enough for you to say! You have Daegon, who loves you as much as you love him.”

  “But I almost lost him. I do understand how you feel, whether you believe it or not.”

  Adriana lapsed into subdued silence. She knew Cerise was right. She had thought at first that she would die of a broken heart. She had hoped for it, wicked as that might be, but it had not happened. She had no choice but to pick herself up and go on, even if she didn’t particularly want to.

  It was still a daily struggle. Each morning when she woke, she expected to smell flowers and she would lie in b
ed with her eyes closed for a long time, hoping the perfume would tickle at her nose. Misery would descend when she at last opened her eyes and climbed from her bed to face another day, but each day it became just a little easier.

  * * * *

  Resisting the urge to follow her, Morpheus’ fingers curled against the stone window embrasure as he watched Adriana call to her mare, Misty. He had decided even before he gave her the mare that he must know if she stayed because she wanted to or only because he held her captive. He must free her to make the choice.

  As she climbed upon the mare’s back and rode away, he remained where he was, reminding himself that she had made love to him the day he had given her the mare. He had finally broken through the barrier that she had erected between them. She had given herself to him with the same joy that she had in the beginning, the spontaneity that had been missing since he had captured her and brought her to his castle against her will.