My Immortal Protector

by Jen Holling

  Meanwhile, Drake had sent out a scout to discover the current whereabouts of Luthias. The scout had just returned with the information when Countess's thoughts had changed.

  The horse had been alone and dis­tressed. Stephen had left her behind, and she hadn't known what to do. She'd tried to follow but hadn't been able to and was currently wandering around the moun­tain.

  It had been rather surprising to discover there really was no anguishing over what to do, no indecisiveness. It had required no thought at all. She'd packed a bag and left just as Drake had been formulating a plan of attack.

  She hadn't told Drake she was leav­ing—he would only have tried to talk her out of going or perhaps even physically stopped her. She'd left a letter, explaining to him that she would be back soon, but she needed to be sure Stephen was safe.

  Luthias would still be here when she returned. Stephen's safety took prece­dence over everything else.

  And now, she was nearly weak with relief that she'd been so decisive. She'd met up with Countess and left her with Blue, some oats, a half dozen apples, and instructions to head back to Creaghaven. Then she'd followed Duke's thoughts.

  The dog had been ecstatic to see her, leaping in the air and almost knocking her off her feet.

  Take me to him, she’d ordered Duke, and they’d been off, racing up the treacherous mountainside. Duke had been surefooted, leaping among the creags like a mountain goat. Deidra had followed much slower, though they’d remained connected men­tally the entire time.

  She had been climbing for more than an hour when she’d come upon Duke, sit­ting beside a leather bag, a sword, and a latch. The dog had stood, tail wagging, at her appearance.

  "Stephen?" she’d called out, hurrying to the paraphernalia.

  There had been no answer. A few feet away, from a crevice in the rock, rose the sound of a man moaning in pain. Her heart had squeezed convulsively.

  "Damn," she muttered, dropping to her knees at the edge of the crevice and peer­ing down into the cave.

  "Stephen?" she called again.

  The sun streamed down into the cave in a single shaft of light, and everything outside the oval-shaped shaft was too dark for her to see.

  She heard a scraping, and then into the light limped Stephen, head tilted back to peer up at her. He was dirty and scraped. His long hair had come loose from the cord He’d used to tie it back, and tangled, blond locks fell over his shoulders. Still, he was the most beautiful sight she’d seen.

  "Damn you, woman," he growled. "What are you doing here?"

  "Countess told me you'd left her. I was worried."

  The tight squeezing of her heart relaxed. He was well. By the tight set of his face, she could see he was in a great deal of pain, but he was standing, and that was reason enough to rejoice.

  "We have to get you out of there."

  He shook his head. "Not tonight, lass. My back will not tolerate another attempt."

  "What do you want to do?"

  "There is rope in my bag. Take it out and then throw the bag down to me."

  Deidra did as he instructed.

  "I have a blanket, liniment, and some laudanum your uncle gave me in here." He held the sack up. "I need to rest a bit, and then you'll have to tie the rope to something that will hold my weight. I'll climb up it."

  Deidra didn't want to wait. She wanted him out of that hole now so that she could rub the pain from his back, but he was right. Trying to get out now, when he was probably in excruciating pain, was rash and stupid and would only make things worse.

  "What about food and water?" She grabbed her bag and started rummaging through it. She had brought extra for him.

  "I have that in here. Fash not. Get some sleep yourself, and we'll try again in a bit."

  Deidra sighed. She wasn't really tired, but she unrolled her blanket anyway. Duke lay down beside her, his body warming her. He was concerned for his master. He didn't understand why Ste­phen stayed down in the hole. He wanted Deidra to do something. Deidra commu­nicated to the dog that Stephen couldn't come up right now and that they would help him out later.

  The dog whined, distressed, staring down at his master.

  "I'm fine, laddy," Stephen called from below.

  At the sound of his voice, Duke barked.

  "Deidra, let him know I'm fine."

  Deidra tried to communicate this to Duke, but she wasn't entirely successful, as the dog felt her anxiety. He did quiet down to lie on the lip of the crevice, his snout hanging over the side so he could watch over Stephen. His body was tense, ready to spring into action at one word from Deidra or Stephen.

  Sleep didn't come. Deidra lay on her back, scanning the rocks around her to determine the appropriate one to secure the rope to.

  "Deidra? Are you awake?"

  Deidra rolled to her side. “Aye."

  "What about Luthias? I thought you and Drake were going after him. Does Drake even know you're here?"

  Deidra hesitated. "I left him a letter explaining...and Luthias isn't far. He is still looking for me. We can do it when I get back."

  "Providing he doesn't find you first."

  "He won't. The animals, they warn me of intruders."

  "Deidra." The single word drifted up to her, full of exasperation and affection.

  Her heart contracted painfully at the sound. She asked, "What will you do if the blood witch refuses to help you?"

  "I don't know. I cannot think of that now."

  Her heart sank. Deidra didn't know what she had hoped he would say, but that wasn't it.

  "What will you do if she can help you?"

  Her heart tripped into the silence as she waited for his response.

  And waited.

  In fact, he was silent for so long that she thought maybe he had fallen asleep.

  "Stephen?" she said in a loud whisper, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep but desperately wanting to hear his answer. If he was whole again, what would he do?

  Aye, I'm here."

  That didn't answer her question. She bit her lip, wanting to ask again, but feeling foolish and transparent. Her feelings must be obvious to him; she was a moon-eyed puppy following him about.

  "There are so many things I would do, Deidra. More than I can count." His voice was wistful, a great weight in it.

  "Is it really so different? Is there really so much that you cannot do?"

  “Aye, lass, it is." The silence ensued again.

  Deidra curled on her side, her heart heavy. She couldn't have him either way, it seemed. It was hopeless.

  "For example," he said, continuing their conversation. Her heart jumped, sur­prised, but she didn't move or say a word.

  "The other night, at your uncle's. We would not have stopped with the kissing."

  The air left Deidra in a rush. The mem­ory of that night fired her cheeks and sent lust spiraling to her core. She closed her eyes on a shuddering breath, instantly aroused.

  "I shouldn't have stopped then," he said, his voice musing. "You think I am a crip­ple, incapable of the simplest feats, but I assure you, that is one we can still carry out."

  Deidra's breath came short, her hand sliding down to press against the ache between her legs. She had thought a great deal about that night. Relived it in her mind, wondering what would have hap­pened if she had just kept her mouth shut.

  "No, we could have both slept well that night. But if not for this back that you love throwing in my face, I would have had you on that bed and made you scream my name."

  Her mouth was dry, eyes now gazing sightlessly into the gloaming. "Really?" she asked hoarsely.

  She hadn't realized she'd said the word loud enough for him to hear until he replied, “Aye, really."

  Her heart tapped rapidly in her throat, making thinking difficult. She scooted closer to the edge of the crevice. He didn't say any more, but she didn't want this conversation to end. She'd been haunted by that night in his room when he had kissed her and touched her. She had tried to touch hers
elf as he had, tried to re-create the sensations coursing through her body, but it hadn't been the same without that one important ingredient: Stephen.

  Maybe it was the dark, or the fact that he was in a hole and therefore she wouldn't have to look him in the eye, but something made her bold. Bold enough to ask, "How would you do that?"

  She swore she heard his sharp intake of breath, even from her perch above him.

  "That's a dangerous question. When I get out of this hole, I’ll show you."

  A smile tugged at her lips. "Tell me now."

  After a long, heavy silence, he said, “I’d start by looking at those pretty breasts this time. I regret neglecting them before. I felt them pressed against me, and they're perfect, methinks. Round and soft. Your nipples are probably pink and taste sweet, so I would kiss them next."

  Desire knifed through her, sharp. She closed her eyes and rubbed at the ache with one hand, felt the weight of her breast with the other, imagining how they felt to someone else, and imagining how it would have felt if it had been his hands cupping it.

  "It will be hard to tear myself away from them." His voice had grown deeper, rougher, and it sent a thrill of excitement through her.

  "I know this already," he continued, "but your mouth will be calling to me—and not just with words, though I plan to make you forget every word but my name. The memory of their taste would bring me back to them."

  She swallowed hard and whispered, “Aye, I remember that, too."

  "What, sweeting?" he said. "You'll have to speak up if you wish me to hear you."

  Did she? This lewd talk frightened her a bit. She was a virgin, had done little more than exchange a few kisses with a village boy, and now she talked about things a man only did with his lover. It both frightened and exhilarated her, and she realized she wanted more.

  "I said, I remember that too...when you kissed me."

  "I'll do it again and again, don't fash on that. Then I will kiss other places."

  Her breath caught as her heart tripped in her chest. Though he'd not been spe­cific, the image of his mouth pressed to other parts of her body caused her legs to go weak and her lashes to flutter.

  "Where?" She realized she'd said the word so softly that he couldn't possibly have heard her, so she cleared her throat and repeated herself. "Where?"

  He made a deep sound, a soft laugh, but a lecherous one, as if he was as eager to carry out his scenario as she was to hear it. "Everywhere, sweet. Your neck and the porcelain skin of the insides of your arms... your smooth belly, your thighs.. .and between them."

  Her fingers pressed harder as her body clenched. She shut her eyes, unable to believe that his voice and his words made her body spasm with pleasure. She gasped, rubbing harder and faster.

  "Stephen..."

  “Aye, sweet—I wish I were there, too."

  When the sensations coursing through her faded, she turned her hot face into her blanket, mortified. He had known what she'd been doing. Had known and encouraged it.

  "Deidra?" His voice floated up to her.

  She didn't want to answer now, for she was too embarrassed. But she couldn't ignore him, so she said, “Aye?"

  "I meant every word. But now I must sleep so I can get out of this hole."

  She bit her bottom lip, smiling with eagerness. Her body was languid and loose now and she was surprised that sleep slowly crept up on her. The last thought to occur to her as she drifted off was that he had never truly answered her question. She still didn't know what he would do, past ravishing her, if the blood witch could make him whole again.

  After a fitful night, Deidra was up with the sun looking for a rock to which she could secure the rope and still have enough slack to reach Stephen.

  "How are you feeling this morning?" she asked as she tossed the rope down to him.

  "Better," he said, but the word was short and clipped, indicating that though he might be better, he was still in pain.

  She peered down over the edge of the crevice and watched as he looped his sack over his shoulder, gripped the rope in both hands, and pulled himself upward.

  For Deidra, it would have been easier to hold the rope and use her feet to climb, but apparently Stephen’s legs were not necessary. He lifted his weight solely with his arms. Veins stood out along his thick forearms, and in no time he hooked the edge of the crevice with his forearm and lifted himself out with a grunt, rolling onto the rocks beside Deidra. Duke immediately licked his master’s face, whining excitedly. Deidra told the dog to stop. He moved a few feet away and sat, watching Stephen with barely restrained joy.

  Stephen lay on his back, staring up at the sky and breathing hard. Deidra did a visual inventory of him as he lay there. Some scrapes and bruises, but it didn't look as if he was seriously harmed.

  As she sat there, waiting for him to recover himself, awkwardness settled over her. After what had happened the night before, she suddenly had no idea what to say to him. Her face flushed at the memory, and her belly dipped.

  She got to her feet and gathered up the rope, keeping her face turned away from him. Once it was coiled, she turned back toward him to find him sitting up, watch­ing her.

  Are you ready?" she asked, hoisting her own bag over her shoulder.

  He continued to stare at her, a bemused smile on his face. "Where are we going?"

  Deidra exhaled with exasperation. "To see the baobhan sith, of course."

  He scratched at the thickening whiskers on his jaw. "I thought you'd changed your mind about that."

  She shrugged. "I don't know."

  He smiled ruefully. "Coming along to dandle the cripple? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid and kill himself?"

  Deidra's mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed. Essentially what he said was true—except the stupid part—but he put such an unpleasant spin on it. What did it matter if she did care? So he'd injured his back and needed a bit of extra care. She wanted to give it to him. Why did he have to be so difficult about it?

  "I know you're not stupid; you're very clever. Mishaps on such treacherous ter­rain can happen to anyone, Stephen, crip­ple or whole. That is why most people prefer not to travel alone."

  "You have chosen to travel alone on more than one occasion in recent weeks. How do you manage not to have such mishaps?"

  "The animals help me."

  He got to his feet with a grunt and a gri­mace, and sighed. "I suppose the com­pany would be welcome."

  She let out the breath she hadn't real­ized she was holding and waited for him to join her.

  "Is it far?" she asked. "It seems a long way to go on foot."

  "No, once we cross the moors at the base of the mountain it’s only a few miles. The baobhan sith lives off the coast, on a small island."

  “Are you well enough to travel?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to further irritate him but wanting to make sure he was ready and able to travel. "Would you like to rest for a while first?"

  He raised a brow and gave her a long, reproachful look. "Let’s go." He limped past her. Duke bounded ahead, up between the rocks, and Stephen followed.

  Deidra sighed and readjusted her bag. This would prove to be a long trip if he didn't accept her help. But at least he wasn't going it alone.

  Chapter 11

  Two days later they reached the base of the mountain, then took two more days to cross the moor before arriving at the fishing village on the coast. Stephen wanted to fall to his knees and cry with joy. It had been a very long time since he had experienced such agony. After climb­ing out of the crevice four days ago, his back was still rife with pain, but he was loath to let Deidra see his suffering. She had seemed impressed with the way he had climbed out, and he wanted to con­tinue to seem strong and capable to her—especially after the emasculating experience of being rescued by a woman. At least all he'd needed from her was a rope. It would have been far worse if he'd needed her to pull him out.

  The past four nights, when they'd stopped to rest, she'd offered to rub h
is back with liniment. There was nothing he'd wanted more than her fine hands working the knots of pain from his mus­cles, but his pride had made him refuse. All he could think of was the way he'd kissed her and touched her, and the ques­tions she'd asked him while he'd been trapped in the crevice, too far away to lay hands on her. He’d talked big then, and though he was sure he could follow through eventually, he didn't know if it was possible in his current condition. Now that they were finally here, and he stood within arm's length of her, she watched him with that anxious look on her face, the one that made him furious that he warranted it.

  No, he did not want her pity. He was not some wounded animal that needed nursing. But his pain was too great to do what he really wanted to do-kiss away that concerned look on her face, make love to her until she forgot there was any­thing wrong with him.

  They had both grown quiet these past few days, hardly speaking past necessities. He knew Deidra didn't know what to say to him after what had passed between them, and he didn't want to do or say any­thing to break that spell that he'd created and make himself seem weak to her. Soon he would be a man, a whole one, and things would be different.

  So he'd refused her offer and taken too much laudanum to dull the pain. When he'd woken each morning, his head had felt fuzzy and thick and his belly queasy. But he'd been able to sleep, which had made continuing on the next morning possible.

  And they had finally made it. Tomor­row morning he would go to the baobhan sith and end this hell on earth forever, God willing.

  They found an inn with a room for rent. He felt Deidra's gaze on him as they ate in the common room. The fare was mutton and turnips—warm and filling, and so much better than dried fruit and hard bannocks. Deidra ate the turnips and bread but didn't touch the mutton he'd ordered for her.

  "Is something wrong with your meal?" he asked without looking at her.

  “No.”

  "Then why aren't you eating your meat?"