by C. A. Szarek
Elissa nodded. Her chest ached and her throat was tight. She extinguished the flame on her palm with a thought, and took a breath. She’d never used her powers over the wind in such a manner, but it was worth a try.
She was glad for the renewed darkness, but she could still feel Sir Alasdair’s eyes on her. “It’ll get…windy, but I’ll make it warm. As warm as I can. We’ll see what happens.”
“All right.”
She stepped closer, but didn’t reach for him. Their eyes locked and Elissa called her magic, which was already playing under the surface of her skin.
A warm gale kissed the air, gaining strength as she pushed heat and power into it.
Her hair started to dance at her shoulders, and her cape flapped against itself and the borrowed breeches. Warmth floated over her face and shoulders, moving down her limbs.
“Take my hand,” she told the knight.
It took everything in her not to jump when his large calloused hand engulfed hers. Heat spiked, intensified, and her belly flipped. Elissa’s magic stalled with the sudden distraction, but she concentrated and pushed it forward, to encompass Sir Alasdair too.
His long dark hair shifted, then lifted to prance his broad shoulders as each lock dried. The hot air danced over them both. He looked wild, beautiful.
She fought the urge to fidget or pull away as her cheeks seared.
“It’s working,” he whispered. “It’s feels like a warm bath…of air.” Sir Alasdair smiled. It lit up his face and made her heart skip. He didn’t wear a mantle as she did, but his tunic sleeves caught the air, puffing out as the last of the moisture left them.
Elissa let the warm air swirl around them for several more seconds before she released the magic and it faded away.
Sir Alasdair didn’t stop looking at her, nor did he drop her hand. “Thank you, lass. Your magic is powerful…impressive.”
She looked down, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”
His tug on her hand had her meeting those blue eyes again. “You really are extraordinary, my lady.” His voice was thick, and the apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
Elissa turned away, dropping his hand as if he’d burned her. She had to. Or she’d throw herself at him.
He shouldn’t look at me like that.
Her heart skipped and she took a calming breath, calling the fire to her palm to light her way down the corridor as she all but fled the great room.
“Lass, wait!”
She didn’t pause at her knight’s shout, but she did shiver at the rush of his heavy boots behind her, as well as the swoosh when his sword cleared its scabbard.
“What’s wrong?” she breathed when Sir Alasdair caught up.
“What lies here is unknown. Do not leave my side.” The order was hard, and his sapphire eyes glinted in the light of her magic flame.
“I feel a protection spell over the castle,” Elissa told him.
“Good, but I’ll not take your safety lightly.” The knight straightened, but didn’t sheathe his sword. “Be quick about your exploration.”
Elissa nodded and continued down the corridor. She didn’t ask what he was supposed to keep her safe from, even though she wanted to.
He wouldn’t tell me anyway.
A kiss of fear chilled her, but she did her best to ignore it.
Chapter Thirteen
“I don’t remember any of this…” Desperation suffused her words, along with sadness so thick Alasdair’s mouth went dry.
He regretted his bark to her when she’d left the great room of Castle Durroc, but abnormal panic had consumed his chest at the mere seconds she was out of his sight. The notion likely had more than to do with more than merely the fact he was charged with her protection, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—explore it.
Alasdair focused on Lady Elissa’s exploration of the lord and lady’s chambers. Like the furniture in the great room, everything was covered in white linen sheets.
Although it was for preservation, grief was palpable in the air. It was as if Castle Durroc felt its abandonment. He crossed the room to the lass’ side.
She didn’t acknowledge his closeness, but ran her hand along the top of the thick mantle of the large hearth in the suite. There were no trinkets on the shelf, no paintings on the walls.
He slid his sword back into the scabbard, fighting his urge to comfort the lass.
The pain on her beautiful face made his lungs burn.
Alasdair cursed under his breath and commanded himself to ignore the urge to tug her to him. Rub her back and whisper sweet reassurances in her ear. Hold her and taste her lips until she felt better.
Wretch.
Only a rogue would see an upset lass as an opportunity to take advantage.
Steal a kiss.
He shook his head and watched her study the forgotten room.
The windows were boarded shut, which somehow upped the desolation. The sitting area was also covered in sheets, obscuring the exact amount of chairs that lie beneath the ocean of dusty white.
Alasdair avoided looking at the large bed. Blessed Spirit knew he didn’t need his thoughts to traverse back to forbidden land. It’d been bad enough holding her in his arms on Contessa’s wide back.
He had a damn good imagination, after all.
The lass crossed the room again, moving away from him. She stared at the wood panel covering the largest window in the chamber. “I…” Her broken appearance made his gut tighten even more.
Alasdair should direct they leave now. Explain she was in danger, though he’d been prohibited. Sweep her back to Castle Aldern and holler until she understood.
He couldn’t.
She had a right to know where she’d come from.
They were already here, at the Durroc holding. There was no harm in her looking around—other than the pain it caused. He wanted to stomp that agony, snuff it out.
Keep her from it.
“It’s all right, lass.” His whisper was thick to his own ears, and his feet carried him to Lady Elissa’s side of their own accord.
“It’s not all right.” Her hazel eyes were shiny in the light of her blue flame. The red they’d glowed from her initial magic call had faded. “It’s not. I…don’t remember this home. Or my family. Living here…anything…” She averted her gaze when a sob sounded.
Alasdair’s chest stabbed at him with each breath. He couldn’t abide it. He wanted to make her feel better.
Nay. I need to make her feel better.
He cupped her face, making her look up at him. The first tear made its way down her pale cheek, followed by another illuminated by her magic fire.
Alasdair thumbed it away, caressing her soft skin, and leaning down without thought.
Lady Elissa yelped when his mouth took hers, but she didn’t tug away.
The room went dark—he could sense it even though his eyes were closed. She must’ve released the flame from her palm like she had in the great room.
Her arms slid around his neck and the lass moved in to him instead of away. Moved her lips under his, pressing into his kiss. He pulled her closer still, until they were chest to breasts, hips to hips. Alasdair ran his tongue along her bottom lip, coaxing her to open for him. He didn’t have to wait long. She let him in to the cavern of her mouth and Alasdair groaned, slanting for a deeper kiss.
Damn, she’s sweet.
Just like he’d fantasized she would be. Like honey and summer berries he needed more of.
She held on tight, kissing him back tentatively at first, touching her tongue to his, then rubbing with more fervor as she tasted him, too.
Alasdair let her in, kissing her harder, deeper.
Lady Elissa made mewling and whimpering noises against his mouth that had him granite in his breeches.
Aching. Throbbing.
He wanted her with a fierceness he’d never experienced before. He caressed her shoulders, then dragged his hands down her slender back, to her waist, wishing her mantle and the oversized tu
nic were gone.
Squeezing and kneading the perfect globes of her bottom, Alasdair rocked against her. He needed to lift her, get her legs around him. She moaned and angled back, swaying with him until it wasn’t enough. His cock threatened to blow its top in his tight breeches.
Lady Elissa was everything he’d imagined from the first time he’d seen her in the great hall with Queen Morghyn.
He wanted her.
Had to have her.
Alasdair walked her back to the nearest wall, slanting his lips over hers again and again, kissing her until they were both panting.
Small, high breasts flattened against his chest as soon as the wall was at her back, and he groaned as Lady Elissa fit her body even more perfectly against his, slipping her arms around his middle, holding him tighter.
He needed to get her breeches off. Alasdair shoved his hands down between them. Reached for the ties. His fingertips were unencumbered since she hadn’t stolen a belt. Soon, he’d have his hands on her warm flesh.
Would she be wet for him?
She paused, stilling as he struggled with the knot. “Sir Alasdair…” Lady Elissa breathed.
Alasdair swallowed a moan when their gazes collided. Her eyelids were heavy with desire; her face was flushed pink, and her delectable mouth swollen from his. She was more gorgeous than he’d ever seen her. Thoroughly ravished.
Perfect.
But she looked…innocent.
Shite.
Lady Elissa probably was innocent.
She was the queen’s blooded cousin, for Blessed Spirit’s sake.
What am I doing?
He pulled out of her embrace so fast she wobbled against the wall.
Lady Elissa yelped and slapped her palms flat on either side of her so she wouldn’t fall. Wide hazel eyes regarded him. “Sir Alasdair?”
“I’m sorry.”
Confusion knitted her fair brow. But the hurt that darted across her pretty face was what made him look away. He wanted to reach for her, pull her away from the wall and make sure she could stand on her own, but touching her was too big a risk.
Alasdair turned his body from hers, making a mistake by focusing on the huge bed. Even in the dimness of the room he could make out the four carved posters of the frame. It was dark wood and elegant. The kind of bed Lady Elissa should be in when she gave herself to a man for the first time.
Not just a man, but her husband.
Alasdair would never be that man.
He didn’t want to marry her; he just wanted to take her.
Which is why I can’t.
Not to mention all the other reasons he needed to tick off in his head. Obviously it’d been too long since he’d lain with a woman.
“Sir Alasdair?”
He still couldn’t look at her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Why?” A small hand slid onto his forearm, and he jumped.
“I just wanted to help you to feel better.”
“You did.”
Somehow his gaze found hers, even though he cursed himself. “That wasn’t the proper way to do it. I apologize. It won’t happen again. I’m deeply sorry.” Liar.
He didn’t regret kissing her.
He regretted that he couldn’t have her.
“Oh.” Again, hurt dominated her expression. She gnawed on that full bottom lip.
Alasdair damned himself to hell and back. Or…maybe he didn’t deserve to come back. “You’re so damn innocent.”
Her eyes widened as his unintended statement slipped out and she took a step back. Her hand fell from his arm. “I am not.” Stubbornness reflected in her expression now. She set her jaw, and glared.
Is she saying she’s not a virgin?
Alasdair cleared his throat. “You are. And I haven’t the right to the liberties I took with you.” He forced himself to bow to her. “I shall remember your station, my lady. Once again, I apologize.”
“I don’t want your apology.” Lady Elissa’s voice was as hard as her frown. “And your station is no different from my own.”
“You’re cousin to the queen.”
“And I am a minor lady. Raised at Court. Hardly innocent.”
His heart skipped.
Second time.
Perhaps she was saying she wasn’t a virgin.
Dangerous thoughts.
He wouldn’t read into what she’d said; it didn’t matter if she wasn’t a virgin. Rumors always abounded of noble ladies at Court who were loose with their favors, but Alasdair wouldn’t break his personal rules.
Wouldn’t lie with a highborn lady he had no intention of marrying.
Especially Lady Elissa Durroc.
Not just because she was Queen Morghyn’s blood.
King Nathal has decided her fate.
“Let’s go,” he snapped. “We need to get back.”
Her eyes widened and she touched her cheek. “I’m not done here.”
“You are.” Alasdair reached for upper arm. Even through her cape and tunic, the heat of her skin all but burned him, made him yearn for more.
To touch her bare skin. Kiss her entire body. Show her passion.
Had she really had a lover? More than one?
Alasdair tightened his grip. He didn’t want to think about her writhing beneath another man. Kissing another man. Calling another man’s name. Coming for another man.
Past or future.
She’s not for you.
I don’t care.
“Let me go,” she ordered.
“Am I hurting you?”
She paused and tugged, but he didn’t release her. “Nay.”
“Let’s go. You should be well rested before the morrow. You’ve another suitor to meet.”
Lady Elissa reared back as if he’d slapped her, but Alasdair didn’t censor his next statement. “Raised at Court or not. Innocent or not, you’d do well to remember your purpose in Greenwald.”
* * * *
“You will go to your rooms, you’ll change into a gown, fix your appearance, and I’ll escort you to the great hall for evening meal. We will tell no one of what happened today.” Sir Alasdair seethed, and his grip on her upper arm was iron as he practically dragged her across the bailey.
Is he referring to the kiss or me running away? Her heart skipped.
Elissa didn’t utter a word even though he was hurting her. She moved her much shorter legs as fast as she could to keep up, her head spinning.
His orders were the first he’d spoken since they’d left Castle Durroc. He’d had her ride behind him on his red roan mare, and he’d been stiff against her, his back an immobile wall of granite, despite his body heat.
She’d held on to his waist tightly so she wouldn’t slip off the back of his horse. Elissa hadn’t relaxed against him, or rested her head on the back of his shoulder, despite the desire to do so. Her whole body ached from the tension she’d held in her muscles.
The knight had grumbled a great deal under his breath.
What did he have to be upset about?
He’d kissed her.
Then crushed her afterward.
Discarded her feelings…and her words.
“You’re so damn innocent.”
Sir Alasdair thought her naïve?
Damn him.
Unless…
Had he been referring to her virtue?
“Move faster.”
“I can’t.” She sucked back a whimper. “I…am sore. From the rough ride. And you’re hurting my arm.”
Sir Alasdair startled, as if he hadn’t considered that. He loosened his hold but didn’t release her. Nor did he apologize.
The wretch.
“Sir Alasdair!” The shout had them locking eyes and freezing.
Her knight glanced over his shoulder and cursed. “Stay here.”
Elissa swallowed, nodding and pulling her mantle’s oversized hood further over her face, until it all but blocked her vision. She made sure her long hair was tucked inside, not even one strand visibl
e. She hiked the strap of the hide bag containing her silver gown higher on her shoulder.
The stable master charged over to Sir Alasdair, the glare on his face deep and evident even at her distance and in the dimming light of the setting sun.
Elissa shivered.
“What is the meaning of this?” Master Gean demanded.
Sir Alasdair squared his shoulders and stood taller. The knight towered over the portly balding man, but anger rolled off the stable master in waves, and magic crinkled in the air.
She didn’t know what kind of magic Master Gean possessed, but whatever it was made his aura glow red and pulsate. Elissa watched intently. She usually had to concentrate hard to read auras.
Will Master Gean strike Sir Alasdair?
“What’s wrong, Master Gean?” Her knight’s question was steady, even.
“What’s wrong?” the stable master echoed, but he was anything but calm. He made a fist. “Do not play innocent with me, Sir Alasdair.” He shook his fist in the knight’s face.
Elissa winced.
“That mare is damaged. I thought I knew you well enough to be assured you would not harm a horse, but—”
“She got away from me, Master. I apologize. She wasn’t harmed intentionally. I examined her, and couldn’t find a break.”
“You examined her?” Master Gean barked.
“Aye.”
“She was mistreated. Run so hard she still hasn’t caught her breath. She’s frothing! Her whole body is covered in sweat!”
Sir Alasdair shook his head. “It wasn’t intentional. She was startled from the thunderstorm and took off running.”
“Storm?”
Elissa heard her knight’s groan even from her distance. She wished she had the power to become invisible on the spot.
No one in Greenwald Main had been affected by her loss-of-control storm.
Her knight dropped his voice, and she missed his next statement, but it was clear whatever he said did nothing relieve the stable master. The man’s body was still tight, and his fists were still pinned to his sides.
“Whatever were you doing with the gray, anyway? She is of the king’s stock.”
Wrong.
King Nathal had given the mare to Elissa before they’d left Terraquist, but it wasn’t like she could remind Master Gean of that.