The Stag Lord

by Darby Kaye

  She placed the candle on the dresser. The flame added a magical glow to the room, as did the aroma of clean beeswax and jasmine; she noticed Bann had drawn the curtains closed. “All set.” She held up the condoms.

  Bann looked at them, then her. An eyebrow went up. “Only two? Why, I’m insulted.” He stepped toward her.

  “My, aren’t you cocky.”

  “In more ways than one.” He reached behind him and pulled the T-shirt over his head with one fluid move, then flung it aside. Still walking, he raked his hair back with both hands.

  “Hey, isn’t it my job to undress you?” She edged backwards to the bed until her knees bumped against the mattress.

  “I’ll not engage in foreplay wearing yer uncle’s shirt.”

  “Awkward. And sort of kinky. At the same time.” She held her breath as Bann plucked the packets from her fingers and placed them on the bedside table, then drew her into his arms. His bare torso was warm and solid—the two things she liked best in a man.

  Then his lips were upon hers.

  25

  AFTER A FEW MOMENTS, Bann broke off the kiss. With an intensity that bordered on desperation, he undressed her, impatient hands and mouth everywhere on her body. When the last piece of clothing was tossed into a corner, he lowered her to a sitting position on the bed, then stepped back and unbuckled his belt. The rasp of his zipper opening was downright erotic. Sliding off his jeans and briefs, he kicked them aside. In the candlelight, the Celtic knot decorating his right shoulder looked like a spider web, the bandages like pale wings beneath it.

  She took a moment to enjoy the soft play of light along the mountains and valleys of his body before letting her eyes drift further south. Whoa. Bann naked and all roused up in person is much, much better than I imagined. And she had imagined it a lot.

  With the flickering flame of the candle measuring time, Bann took her right up to the yellow tape of insanity—the sadistic bastard—but never let her cross it. His fingers caressed and stroked and probed, his mouth hot and wet on hers. Or on other places on her body.

  As she shook beneath him, panting, he paused to murmur in her ear. “Are ye ready for me?”

  “Oh, gods, Bann, I am. Please. Enough already. Just…just…” She was almost grateful for the slight reprieve when he rolled away for the condom.

  A few moments later, he repositioned himself between her thighs with a gentle kiss. A pause, a searching, then he eased into her, filling her. She bit down on a moan. Stilling his motions to allow her body to adjust to the fullness, she could feel him trembling, the cords in his arms standing out as he braced himself above her. She gazed into his eyes, inches from hers, their blue almost black with passion.

  “I’ll try to be gentle,” he whispered.

  “Gods, I hope not,” she whispered back.

  He began to thrust, slowly at first, then harder. She pressed her hands along his lower back, feeling the muscles bunching under her palms, the skin slick with perspiration. Without stopping his movements, he reached back and hooked his arm behind one of her knees, easing her leg up and spreading her wider.

  She closed her eyes, gasping with each plunge, almost whimpering as her climax approached. “Oh, gods, yes,” she moaned. “Just like that, Bann.”

  One. Two. Three perfectly angled thrusts. Then she was there. Exquisite pleasure tsunamied up her body in wave after wave.

  With a grunt, Bann came a moment later, shuddering through his own climax. A drop of sweat fell from his face and landed on Shay’s breast as he pumped a few more times, finishing up. Gasping, he collapsed on top of her. Or passed out. Either way, she didn’t mind.

  Reveling in the feel of the man on her as well as in her, she fingered the damp hair clinging to the back of his neck, conscious of her own sweaty body as she waited for her heart to stop trying to pound its way out between her ribs. Bann mumbled something in her ear.

  “Sorry. I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “I said, ‘tis been a while.”

  Not sure if she should ask, but… “How long is awhile?”

  He raised himself on his elbows, face relaxed in a way Shay hadn’t seen before and eyelids drooping. “Twelve months, one week, and four days, I believe.”

  “Well, that’s twelve months, one week, and three days too long.” They both laughed softly. When Bann started to pull out, she tightened her arms around him. “Just a minute more.”

  “I’m not hurting ye, am I?”

  “Not made of glass, you know.”

  A faint smile. “That ye are not.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “However…” He rolled off. “I’ll be right back.”

  Bann disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water followed. Shay sighed, curling her toes and stretching her arms over her head. Every joint in her body felt loose and warm, like the wax running down the side of the dying candle. Suddenly aware of the chill of the room, she pulled the covers back and burrowed under them. A minute later, Bann reappeared and crawled into bed next to her. Cuddled beside him, her head resting on his shoulder and her fingers running through the hairs on his chest, Shay let herself drift.

  Her eyes flew open when he cleared his throat and started to speak. Oh, for the love of Danu! She reached up to lay a finger on his lips. “I know what you’re going to say, Bannerman Boru.”

  “Oh, ye do, do ye?”

  “Yeah, I do. So, shut up and let me say it first. Look, we are Tuatha Dé Danaan, and Celts to boot. Not mortals, with their Puritan-twisted hang-ups about sex. We look upon a romp in bed as simply a delightful pastime between—”

  “A delightful pastime?”

  “Okay, a mind-blowing pastime. Satisfied?”

  “In several ways.”

  “—between two people. There’s nothing more to it unless the two wish to make it so.”

  Bann’s chest rumbled under her ear. “Ye must be a sorceress, being able to journey inside me head.”

  “Damn straight. Now shut up and—”

  He did.

  26

  LEANING OUT SHAY’S DOOR, Bann looked up and down the hallway that was pearly-gray with predawn light. His clothes and sheathed knife were tucked under one arm. With a final glance over his shoulder at the woman curled under the covers, he eased out and closed the door behind him. The click of the knob seemed to announce to the household Why, would you look at that. Bann. Skulking out of Shay’s room in the wee hours of the morning. Naked as the day he was born.

  He darted across the hall, grinning at the picture he must present. Reaching the safety of his own room, he slipped inside and dumped his clothes and weapon by the bed. After pulling back the covers, he sank down on the mattress. The scent of sex, musky and salty and downright heady after a year of abstinence, wafted from his groin to his nose. He cupped his hands around his nostrils and breathed in the scent of Shay—an intoxicating perfume of its own.

  We look upon a romp in bed as simply a delightful pastime between two people. There is nothing more to it unless the two wish to make it so.

  “‘If wishes were horses…’” he muttered. With a sigh, he crawled under the cover and stretched until his spine popped, body satiated and tender to the touch at the same time. Rolling onto his side, he buried his face in the pillow and closed his eyes. His muscles relaxed as he drifted toward sleep. He sank farther into the mattress.

  The bathroom door swung open.

  Damn! Bann kept his eyelids closed. I am a rock. I am an immovable—

  Feet shuffled along the carpet. The sound of breathing near his face.

  “Dad?” A soft whisper.

  Maybe if I remain still, he’ll go away.

  “Dad? Are you awake?”

  Or not. “No.”

  “Max needs to go outside.”

  “Bully for Max.”

  A long silence. Bann peeled up one eyelid.

  Cor stood by the bed, dressed in the same clothes he had on yesterday, his face still creased with sleep and his hair doing what his son�
�s hair always did in the morning. Actually, most of the time. Max paced beside him, suffering from a full bladder.

  He closed his eye. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take him out.”

  “I don’t want to go by myself.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s tracks in the snow. All over the yard.”

  Every atom in Bann’s body roared to life even as his mind denied the possibility that anything could have gotten past the wards. He flung back the covers and rushed to the window.

  Boot prints dotted the snow. They circled the yard, taking a loop directly below Cor’s window out from the house and vanishing into the trees at the far edge of the expansive yard. Bann’s eyes followed the prints as they reemerged, skirted the brick wall, then disappeared around the side of the house.

  “Stay here.”

  Yanking on jeans and briefs in one move, Bann ignored his shirt. Instead, he snatched his knife from the floor and slapped the sheath against his leg, freeing the knife. He wrenched the door open and raced along the hall, bare feet silent in the plush carpet.

  Pausing at the top of the stairs, he cocked his head at the sound of muted voices, then hurried down to the main level, the wooden treads cold beneath his feet. A faint thumping sound echoed through the sleeping house. He crept across the dining room toward the yellow glow spilling from the kitchen. Voices murmured once again. Frowning, he stepped through the doorway.

  Hugh stood by the back door, already dressed for the day and balancing on one leg as he removed a boot caked with snow. Ann, in a set of flannel pajamas baggy enough for her husband to wear, was measuring grounds into a coffee machine. They both paused and looked at Bann.

  “A fine morning to you.” Hugh nodded at the weapon in Bann’s hand. “Bit early for knife practice, wouldn’t you say?”

  “And you probably should dress more warmly.” Ann looked him over. “Although I must say, I don’t mind what you’re wearing now.”

  “He’s wearing naught but a pair of trousers,” Hugh pointed out.

  As Ann finished prepping the brewer, her gaze flickered across Bann’s abdomen where bare skin met low-slung denim. “And wearing them quite nicely.”

  Both flattered and self-conscious, Bann tugged at his waistband. “I saw the tracks and I wasn’t sure.”

  “I was checking on the wards.” Hugh slipped off his other boot and placed them on a rubber boot tray next to the door to dry. “Since you’re up and stirring about, what would you say to taking a drive over to Shay’s later this morning to board up her windows? James and Rory will meet us there for protection and to help. Ann and I talked last night—you three are staying here with us until all this is resolved.”

  “Dad?” Cor appeared with a frantic Max by his side. “It is safe?”

  “Why, to be sure, young Boru.” Hugh beamed in assurance as he opened the door. “Out you go, fellow.” He waited until Max shot past him, then took off his jacket and held it for Cor to slip on. “This will keep you warm for now.” Cor hurried after the dog, more jacket than boy. “We’ll keep an eye on these two, Bann. You go along and finish dressing.”

  “If you must,” Ann muttered, setting out mugs.

  After a breakfast of Denver omelets and link sausages that kept vanishing under the table from Cor’s plate to Max’s mouth, Hugh, Shay, and Bann piled into Shay’s SUV and headed back to her house. Cor, with the dog to keep him company, decided to stay behind and try his hand at building a snow fort under Ann’s watchful eye. “And I might just join them,” she had declared.

  Hugh had laughed, bending to whisper in her ear loud enough for everyone to hear, “If you get chilled, I’ll be home in time to warm you up.”

  “I’ll hold you to your word, Hugh Doyle.”

  “Oh, I’m hoping you’ll be holding more than that, darlin’.” He kissed her farewell with a sound smack.

  The streets were Saturday-morning calm under iron clouds that promised more snow. They passed a lone snowplow already working the main roads. Turning onto the Healer’s street, they noticed a set of tire tracks ahead of them. Nearing her house, they spotted another vehicle, an older truck with snow chains and sheets of plywood sticking out the back of its gateless bed. As they pulled up, James climbed out of the driver’s side.

  “Glad to see you guys in one piece. Looks like a war zone in there.” James led the way to the front entrance, which stood open. “We came in through the kitchen—Rory is still inside.”

  They stepped inside. The Fir Bolg bodies were gone. Bann pointed out drag marks exiting the smashed back door and traveling across the patio toward the boulder field. “They returned for their fallen.”

  “Or a free meal.” Rory’s grin widened at their expressions. “What? Everyone knows Fir Bolgs are cannibals.”

  “Thanks a lot, Rory.” Shay made a face “I just ate, you know.”

  “Apparently, so did they.”

  Shay stepped around a dark stain on the living room floor. “But I am glad they got rid of those dead ones—I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with them.”

  “We’d have helped you,” James said. “Like the old saying goes: ‘A friend helps you move. A good friend helps you move the bodies.’”

  Bann shook his head at the collective groan, envious of the close-knit family. I wish this for Cor.

  “Listen, while you guys start on the windows, I’ll grab some clothes,” Shay said. “Bann, you might as well get more for you and Cor.”

  “I thought I’d drive my truck and camper over to Hugh’s.”

  “In this snow? On those tires?” Rory looked doubtful. “Dude, I drove it back from the mountains and it barely made it here, and that was with just a little dusting.”

  Bann rubbed his knuckles along the stubble on his jaw. “Right. Well, I’ll gather up my things, then come help.”

  As the other Knights began hauling the sheets of plywood inside, Bann made his way through the snow to the camper, Colorado’s champagne powder swirling around his ankles. Feet clanging on the metal steps, he ducked inside and eyed the interior, wondering how he and Cor had lived for a year in such cramped and depressing conditions. I don’t know how, but I will make a better life for him. Here. In this place. With our people. After filling two duffle bags with clothes, he paused for one last item.

  Crouching by Cor’s bunk, Bann pulled out the built-in drawer under the bed. He flipped it over. Taped to the underside was a torc. His torc. He had hidden it there after their camper had been ransacked their first week on the road. Peeling it free from the masking tape, he held it in his hands.

  The crescent-shaped neckpiece, made from wires twisted together into a rope of pure gold and about as thick as his thumb, was finished with twin caps crafted to resemble horse heads. He spread it wide enough to slip it around his neck, then squeezed the ends together, close but not touching. Smiling faintly from the familiar weight on his collarbone, he slung both bags over his shoulders, grabbed his toolbox, and locked up his rig. The sound of hammering greeted him from the kitchen as he stepped back inside the house.

  Leaving his bags by the front door, he joined the others in the kitchen, setting his toolbox on the island. He studied the cousins struggling to position the board across the kitchen window, then cleared his throat. “Gentlemen.” The young Knights paused and looked at him. “You might want to attach the board on the outside of the house. ‘Twould be more weatherproof that way, since the plank would shed any snow or rain, and you can nail it to the frame more securely.”

  “Good idea.” James lowered the plywood to the floor and leaned it against the counter. “We weren’t sure how to—Hey!” He nodded at Bann’s neck. “I was wondering if you still had it.”

  “Had what?” Shay joined them from the hallway. A large daypack dangled from one arm.

  “My torc.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened. She dropped the bag at her feet. “Let me see.”

  Raising his chin slightly, Bann stood still as Shay leaned closer to exam
ine the neckpiece. His pulse skipped a beat when her breath warmed the skin on his throat.

  “Horse, eh?” She tapped on one of the heads. “Or should I say stallion. Good choice for you.” Their eyes met, both enjoying the joke.

  Rory guffawed. “Oh, Bann,” he said in a falsetto voice. “You’re so manly. What with your stud torc and your big weapon. Your really big weapon. Your big, powerful—”

  Shay marched over and smacked the back of his skull before he could duck. Hard.

  “Hey!” He rubbed his head. “Harsh thing for a Healer to go around whacking people.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t use a hammer.”

  “Ha! You don’t have one.”

  “No, but Bann does. I’m sure he’ll let me borrow it.”

  “Aye, I would.” And anything else you would desire of me, he thought.

  By early afternoon, Bann, with James’s help, had finished securing the busted windows and door. Meanwhile, Shay and Rory had cleaned out the snow and muck from the attack. After storing their tools away, Rory announced he and James were staying with their aunt and uncle as well.

  “It’s not every day we get to go toe-to-toe with an old-school god,” he explained. “Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun.”

  Shay wrinkled her brow. “You have a weird sense of what constitutes fun, Rory Doyle.”

  Rory grinned widely. “I know, right?”

  Once back at the mansion, Bann rounded up Cor, who jabbered away about the fort he and Ann had built while he scampered upstairs to unpack. After ordering the boy to change both socks and underwear before putting on clean clothes, Bann emptied his duffle on the bed and pawed through the meager pile until he located his least-dirty shirt. Exchanging Hugh’s T-shirt for a long-sleeved Henley, he made a mental note to ask Ann if he might use their washing machine.