Latchling Blood Moon: A Cassidy Edwards Novella - Book 3.5

by Carmen Caine

  For a time, I stood there, eyes closed and drawing energy, simply listening to the plaintive wailing of the gulls, the shrilling of the wind whistling through the mighty castle’s keep, and the creaking of leather as the others dismounted.

  Snippets of conversation floated around me.

  “I’ll need a hot bath sent to my lady’s chamber and at once,” Marie ordered in the distance.

  A hot bath. I smiled at the thought.

  “Dorian Ramsey, you say?” a shifter probed from close by. “A tinker came through here some time ago with a letter for a Ramsey. I’ll send for the lad who fetched it. Mayhap you’ll find the Ramsey it’s for, aye?”

  “Aye,” Dorian’s deep bass agreed.

  A horse neighed and harnesses jingled, and then the clip-clop of horses’ hooves faded away.

  Heaving a sigh, I opened my eyes, turning at last from the stones.

  Marie waited for me. The rest had gone. Dorian’s absence made me sigh again, and with a heavy heart I drew my cloak close and followed Marie into the tower house.

  The large, square tower house stood on the cliff’s edge, and from the tower’s top, one could feel the stones sing with the wind against the backdrop of the azure sea. The lord of Dunnottar kept a set of rooms there, reserved for my use, and I’d taken advantage of them every chance I could—but it was never enough.

  I climbed the spiraling steps after Marie, and finally, reaching the top, navigated the narrow passage and stepped inside my rooms. A feeling of peace washed over me, the comfort of a familiar haven. Quickly, I passed through the small antechamber and into the bedroom beyond where a lavender-scented bath already stood waiting.

  Slipping out of my clothes, I blissfully sank into the tub and sought to think of nothing save the soothing heat of the water—but the more I avoided thoughts of Dorian, the more thoughts of him came. It wasn’t until the water had turned tepid that I grew aware of just how much time I’d wasted seeking to avoid the unavoidable.

  Sighing yet again, I quit the tub and slipped into the gown Marie had set out for me, a fine yellow silk. The dress gave me energy, not for the soft luxury against my clean flesh, but because the cloth was a Stonehenge Druid-weave, infused with powerful spells.

  I stretched and surveyed my bedchamber with its fur rug, elegant bed, and a large mirror and chair. I knew I should feel relieved and pleased to be warm and out of the cold, but I felt only a sense of loss for the camaraderie and love I’d experienced in the past few days.

  I’d no sooner sat down in front of my mirror than Marie arrived with my ox-horn comb and a pearl hairnet.

  “Dorian?” I asked her.

  “Shall I send for him?” she answered with a question, beginning to comb my hair.

  I waited until she’d finished and had captured each miscreant lock of hair into the net’s delicate pearl strands before finally nodding. “Yes, send for him. We must talk, he and I,” I said.

  I caught her reflection in the mirror, lifting a teasing brow. “Talk,” she playfully mouthed the word.

  I furrowed my brows. “It must stop,” I told her.

  Her own brow turned censorious. “Must it? He’s the kind that waits, my lady.”

  She didn’t wait for my disapproving response. Instead, she sailed through the door. I followed, not really sure of my intention. Part of me wanted to hold onto her words in hope, but the larger part wanted to pull the scab off the wound, simply to get the pain over with.

  A gust of wind rattled the shutters in the antechamber and I paused, letting Marie slip into the passage outside.

  “What will be, will be,” I said aloud.

  Either Dorian would come, or he wouldn’t. And if he did come, what would I say? Lost in thought, I stood in the center of the small antechamber, dimly aware of the crackling fire and the gloom gathering outside. Soon, night would fall.

  After a time, a sharp knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

  Dorian. It had to be.

  Gathering my strength, I strode to the door and opened it. I’d intended on telling him it was over, that now, I must think only of my task, but the moment I saw him, I knew.

  Marie was right. He was the kind to wait.

  Grabbing his white shirt, I pulled him into my chamber, a feral growl rising deep within my throat. His lashes fluttered in surprise, but I didn’t care. Pushing him back against the wall, I pulled his head down and ravished his mouth with mine.

  He responded at once, his lips opening to allow his tongue to dance with mine as his hands ran over my hips. But far too soon, he ended the maddeningly sweet and passionate kiss.

  “’Tis dangerous,” he said, nodding his head at the door. “Will not the servants speak with Lord—”

  “Hush,” I said, touching his lips with a forefinger. I didn’t want to hear Lord Rowle’s name. Dropping my hand from his face, I brushed my fingers against the rough surface of the stone wall under his back. “Those here are loyal to the stones,” I said.

  “Stones?” he repeated, his jade-green eyes curious and puzzled.

  I smiled, amused that even for a moment I’d forgotten he wasn’t Charmed. “My kinfolk here,” I diverted easily enough. “Those who have begged me to leave Lord Rowle long ago.”

  That was true. They had—and still did at every opportunity.

  “Then I should join forces with them,” he said, concern flooding his eyes. “I canna let you return to that man, lass.”

  “Nor do I wish to,” I agreed, wholeheartedly.

  He lifted his chin. “Come with me,” he said in a low voice. “Run with me to the highlands.”

  If only I could. I could think of nothing more wonderful than to spend my days with the man, leading a simple life filled with love and laughter. But I couldn’t. Not yet. “Alas, I have no choice,” I said, my voice laden with sorrow. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?” he pressed, clearly determined to change my mind.

  I looked up into his stubborn face. He wasn’t going to make this easy. Yet, I couldn’t tell him the truth. “’Tis my doom,” I said, wishing I could share more. “There are far weightier matters I must concern myself with, matters I cannot trust to another. I cannot say more.” To my surprise, unexpected tears filled my eyes.

  He reached out, his thumb catching a tear falling down my cheek. “Then let me aid you, lass,” he offered.

  I studied his dark brows and bright green eyes. His authenticity pulled at my heart. If only he could help. He stood there, waiting for an answer. I had no choice but to shake my head. “Nay, this is my task alone, Dorian.”

  He frowned, but then catching my despondent expression, flashed me a disarming smile instead. “Who knows what the future may hold, aye?” he said gently.

  “True,” I agreed, even though I thought I knew.

  Fighting a sense of hopelessness, I moved to the window and opened the shutters. It was nearly dark, but I could still hear the pounding of the sea.

  Coming up behind me, Dorian slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me back against his chest to plant a chaste kiss on the top of my head. We stayed that way for a time, taking comfort in each other’s nearness, but after a bit, I turned in his embrace and kissed him again.

  He didn’t hesitate this time and kissed me back, weaving our tongues in a deliciously animalistic dance as his hands began to move. I shivered as his palm brushed over the curve of my breasts and his mouth left mine to work its way down the slim corridor of my neck. After kissing every inch of my collarbone, his mouth caught the lobe of my ear.

  “You’re mine, Elizabeth,” he whispered, his breath hot. “Never forget that you’re mine.”

  A sound of abandon tore from my lips.

  “Your moans sound sweet to my ears, lass,” he drawled, smiling crookedly before taking my lips again.

  Dorian caressed my jaw before entangling his fingers in the net binding my hair, and giving it a jerk, pulled it away. Pearls scattered to the floor as my hair escaped, cascading down over my shou
lders. His kiss turned almost frantic, nearly crushing me with an urgency as we both pulled at my dress until it fell with a soft rustle to a yellow pool around my feet.

  He caught me up in his arms and, kicking the bedroom door back with a booted foot, carried me to the bed.

  Our frenzied, passionate loving ended far too soon. Knowing what I know now, I would that it had gone on forever. No sooner had we finished than Dorian arose from the bed to toss a fresh log on the fire. I admired him from where I lay, spent but relaxed. My eyes travelled down his muscled back to his narrow waist, lean hips, and perfectly sculpted buttocks. He was a handsome man. He turned, the orange glow accentuating the reddish glint of his hair. Dimly, I noted his frown, but it wasn’t at the forefront of my thoughts as he returned to my side. Reaching up, I pulled his shoulders back and cuddled close, sliding my palm up his broad, naked chest.

  “I’ll see you free of that misbegotten spawn of a Rowle,” he swore suddenly, his deep voice radiating menace.

  I frowned, of all things, not wanting to think of Lord Rowle.

  Of course, it was Dorian. He read my expression and his eyes softened with remorse. “Aye, forgive me, lass,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Let us not speak,” I said, striving for a lighter tone but the pain in my voice was impossible to mask.

  Silence fell.

  I closed my eyes, for the first time seeing my destiny as only stark and depressing. Bitter that Fate had handpicked me for my task, I burrowed against Dorian’s chest, wishing the moment could last forever but knowing it would end.

  Soon, I would miss the comforting embrace of his warm, familiar arms, holding me long into the night.

  I didn’t know then just how soon.

  I didn’t know that night would be our last.

  Loss

  I awoke early that next morning to see Dorian disappearing into the antechamber. Curious, I slipped out of the warm bed and followed, shivering in the winter chill air as someone tapped on the outer chamber door.

  “Aye, I’m coming! Hold your wheest!” Dorian hissed, quickening his step to lift the latch.

  “’Tis your letter,” a lad’s voice said as the door opened. “’Twas said to be urgent, my lord.”

  “Urgent?” Dorian repeated, reaching for the ragged missive.

  “Aye, at least a few months’ back, my lord,” the lad answered. “’Tis addressed to a Dorian Ramsey.”

  From where I stood, I saw Dorian’s wide shoulders tense. “Aye, and I thank you,” he muttered absently to the lad and inspecting the letter, moved to the window.

  I drew back into the bedchamber, cracking the door just enough to watch him blow a warm breath over his fingers as he squinted at the tattered, torn paper in obvious surprise.

  “The seal ‘twas broken when the tinker gave it to me, my lord,” the nervous lad swore from the outer door.

  Dorian glanced up and tossed the lad a grin. “Ach, ‘tis nothing to fret over, lad,” he said lightly. “You may leave.”

  The door clicked shut as with a yawn, Dorian unfolded the parchment. But he’d scarcely read the words before he clenched his jaw and sprinted out the chamber door, calling, “Ho there, lad. Wait!” After a moment, he added, “There’s no more? Naught you can tell me? At least, tell me when ‘twas sent, aye?”

  I held my breath, straining to hear the faint reply, “All I know ‘twas in the keeping of the tinker for over two months, my lord, afore it came into my keeping three days ago.”

  Dorian didn’t reply.

  After a moment, the lad queried, “My lord?”

  At the sound of Dorian’s footsteps, I withdrew and returned to the bed, filled with a sense of foreboding.

  I was right.

  A moment later, he entered the chamber, his smile unable to mask the stricken expression on his handsome face.

  As he crossed the chamber to sit on the edge of the mattress, I said the words dragging my heart heavily, “You’re leaving.”

  I couldn’t look at him. Not yet.

  “Aye,” came his soft reply. He reached out and smoothed the hair from my cheek. “I want nothing more than to kiss every inch of you, lass, and in every way, but I canna leave my wee sister in danger unknown.”

  So. The letter was from his sister. I sighed and straightened, pulling my shift up from where it had slipped from my shoulders. “’Tis what I love about you most, Dorian,” I admitted. “Honor. Loyalty. Justice. A true champion, ‘tis what you are. I wouldn’t dream of hindering you, my love.” I rose to my knees and slipped my arms around his neck before adding, “But I will sorely miss you. ‘Tis for myself I am sad.”

  He drank me with his eyes and pulled me closer. “Come with me,” he suggested. “Hie yourself away to the highlands, aye?”

  Oh, how I wished I could. “Your boyish smile never fails to charm,” I said and then repeated, more for my own benefit than his, “You know I cannot leave. Even though I detest every fiber of the boorish beast, I have a duty and my duty is not yet done.”

  He kissed my hand and then rose to his feet, a frown marring his handsome brow. “I want you happy, Elizabeth,” he said. “And that means out of that cruel man’s clutches. Haven’t you suffered long enough? Ach, they gave you to him as only a wee lassie of five summers. Surely, no priest would sanction such a union—”

  “Nay, my love,” I interrupted, resisting temptation. “It cannot be undone—for now.”

  I left the bed then and snatching a nearby shawl, wrapped it around myself. “My freedom must wait,” I said. “I shall not leave him until I do what I’ve come to do.”

  “Whatever this secretive mission be … leave it be, lass,” he insisted one last time, reaching out to gather me close and rest his cheek against the top of my head. “Or else I fear you’ll be in danger should I leave.”

  There was more truth to that than I cared to admit, but I ran my palms up his broad, muscular chest and replied instead, “Lord Rowle cannot harm me, Dorian. Do not fear.”

  From the way he pressed his lips together, I knew that my words would go unheeded. He moved away then, preparing for his journey.

  I watched him drape his Ramsey plaid over his muscular body and belt his sword and finding myself on the verge of tears, moved to the window for the clarity of the winter air. With a tug, I opened the shutters and squinted out into the bright, morning light.

  He came up behind me then and, burying his face in my hair, whispered, “I canna stop fearing for you, lass, even though I know right well you’ve a strong, steady hand.”

  Turning to face him, I adjusted his plaid and clan kilt pin thoughtfully. “I will promise you this, my love,” I said earnestly, lifting my eyes to his. “That when my duty is over, I will, as you say, ‘hie myself off to the highlands with ye’.” I’d tried my best to imitate his accent but failed miserably.

  The attempt made him smile at least. “Then I pray this duty finishes soon,” he said. His eyes dropped over me then, giving me a look that made my blood burn. He laughed a little and added, “My mind strays in your company, lass. Why do you tempt me to stay when you know I must leave and with haste?”

  I smiled, thinking I could say the same to him. But then a troubling thought came to me and I wondered if time in my company could have endangered him with the Charmed. Would they sense it somehow? Worried, I murmured, “’Tis your wellbeing I fear for. Promise me you’ll stay safe, will you?”

  He reached out and cradled my face between his palms. “Ach, ‘tis not I who is in danger, you bonny, daft lass. Not even from your husband should he discover where I’ve been this past fortnight.”

  That wasn’t true, but I didn’t see the point of saying so. Still, I couldn’t shake a growing sense of dread and I’d learned long ago to listen to such things. My heart had never failed me. He opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head.

  “Wait,” I said, making my mind up at once. Moving quickly to the small iron-banded chest nearby, I lifted the lid, searching for my most prized
possession. My silver dagger. I closed my eyes, lifting the small leather scabbard. A gift from my father, yes, but now it was mine to gift to Dorian. Rising, I returned to his side and pressed it flat against his chest. “Take this, Dorian. Promise me, you’ll never let it leave your side. The blade within is made of solid silver.”

  Silver. The kind of silver that could bring Emilio to his knees.

  Dorian slid his fingers over mine slowly before accepting the blade. The twinkle in his eye announced he didn’t see it as much of a true weapon. If only I could tell him everything—but I hadn’t the time. Instead, I settled for appealing to his sense of honor and insisting, “Swear you’ll keep it with you, always.”

  “I will,” he promised with a bow. “I am your humble servant, my lady.”

  I nodded. “I have many servants on the road. Should you need help, Dorian, I pray they may find you.” They would, as soon as I found them and sent them after him.

  He raised a curious brow. “Dinna fret, lass, I’ll be safe.”

  Again, a sense of foreboding washed over me. Dorian rode to danger. I was certain of it now. Leaning closer to him, I murmured, “Humor me, I beg you. You’ll know them by these words.” I paused, just a little, seizing words that summed Dorian in my mind. “Honor. Justice. Forever.” Again, I hesitated, but so little I’m sure he scarcely noticed. Again, a wave of doom washed over me. I looked at him. I loved him. Somehow, I’d always loved him. And without a doubt, I always would. Scarcely missing a breath, I added, “Never fading throughout the long march of time.”

  He thought me overreacting to something, that was clear. I puzzled him, but he could clearly tell I worried for him. Seeking to soothe me, he simply nodded and chucked me under the chin. “Aye, lass,” he said with a warm smile.

  I clamped a hand over his forearm. “I am being quite serious. You cannot forget these words, Dorian. Swear it.”