While waiting for Murdoch, her elderly maid helped her change into a nightgown and let her hair down. After Magda left, Alina added wood to the fire and turned down the bed.
It was another hour before the knock at the door finally came.
“Alina, I’m here.”
She swung the door open, relieved that the moment had finally arrived. “Come in.”
“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting, but I wanted to wash the trail dust off before I came to you.”
She should have thought of that. “I wish I’d known. I would have had the servants bring the tub in here.”
But then the image of helping Murdoch bathe had her blushing. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a naked man before. In fact, she’d seen all of Murdoch when she’d nursed him back to health after he was wounded. Though that wasn’t at all the same as the intimacy of a wife assisting her husband with his bath.
Not that Murdoch was her husband, but he would be her lover. Oh, but how to begin? In her marriage, her husband had always dictated the details of how and when.
“Murdoch?”
His stern mouth spread in a slow smile as he reached out to trace her cheek with a single fingertip. “I can only imagine the thoughts racing through your mind right now. Upon my honor, Alina, I will go as slowly as you need me to and only as far as you are willing to go.”
The sweetness of his touch combined with the raw hunger in his eyes gave her the courage she needed. Taking his hand in hers, Alina tugged him toward the bed.
“Murdoch, I want it all.”
* * *
From the angle of the light streaming in through the window, the sun had already been up for several hours. No doubt everyone else was awake and about, but Murdoch refused to feel guilty about stealing a few precious hours in Alina’s bed, in her arms.
Last night had been . . . Truly, he had no words to describe it. All he knew for certain was that he’d never experienced anything like it before. Right now his lady lay cuddled at his side, her hand over his heart, her leg over his.
Her pale blond hair spilled across his arm and shoulder in a tangle of silk. He loved the feel of it against his skin. Loved the feel of her against his skin.
Loved her.
His desire stirred to life again, along with the impulse to pick up where they’d left off just before dawn. He’d taken her three times during the night, and she would probably appreciate some time to recuperate. He shifted slightly away from her, hoping that little bit of space would help.
It didn’t.
His movement woke his lover. She blinked up at him. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a circle of surprise. Had she thought it was all a dream? Or mayhap hoped that he would have slipped out of her bed to go skulking back to his own? He hadn’t thought to ask her.
“Should I go?”
She scooted toward him, closing the small gap he’d just created. “Only if that’s what you want. I mean, I’d understand.”
Damn her late husband all over again! Murdoch had spent the night worshipping this woman with everything he had, and yet she still worried she might not have pleased him.
“If I could figure out a way to manage it, we wouldn’t leave this bed for at least a week, Alina.”
He took her hand and led her down to the rock-solid proof of how much he still wanted her. To his delight, she gripped his cock and gave it a promising squeeze. He had to stop her before he lost all control.
“Alina, you might not want to stoke that fire again.”
“Why not? Don’t you like it when I do this?” She repeated a slow stroke. “Or this?” she asked as she cupped his sac with a firm squeeze.
His head kicked back at the jolt of pleasure. “I like it a little too much. Keep that up, and I won’t be able to stop.”
Instead of retreating, she slid up on top of his body, settling her core right over his cock and pressing her sweet breasts against his chest. Then she wiggled up to kiss him.
He rolled to the side and trapped her arms and legs with his, immobilizing her for the moment. “Sweetling, I want you so badly that I ache. But given what all we did last night, I’m afraid you’ll be uncomfortable and won’t say anything.”
His lover finally showed a spark of temper. “I’ll decide what’s too much for me to handle. Eventually, someone will come looking for you or for me. Do you really want to miss this chance before the rest of the world intrudes?”
She had a point.
“I surrender, my lady. Use me as you will.”
He sprawled onto his back and then lifted his lady to settle her over his hips. Her eyes widened as she realized that he wanted her to take control. He doubted she’d ever been allowed to do so before, but she was a quick study. As she took him deep inside her slick heat, he forgot how to breathe.
When she found her rhythm, she was so beautiful, with her hair flowing down her shoulders, her head tipped back, and her eyes closed. The sight took him right to the edge. He grabbed her hips and thrust upward, shuddering in release deep within the welcoming heat of her body. She followed him in the dance, calling his name over and over as she shivered in his arms.
He grinned as she collapsed on his chest, boneless and content. He stroked the elegant length of her back, calming them both.
Then, just as she’d predicted, the world intruded. After knocking on the door, Sigil called softly, “Lady Alina, I apologize for disturbing you, but it would seem that Murdoch has gone missing. Gideon is hunting all over for him. If you’ve, ah, seen him recently, would you let him know?”
“I’ll tell him. Thank you, Sigil.”
Alina sat up and pushed her hair back from her face. It was impossible to know if the rosy tint to her complexion was a result of their lovemaking or that Sigil had known exactly where to find Murdoch. Either way, their time together was at an end. For now.
Evidently, she was thinking along the same lines. “I will be counting the minutes until nightfall.”
He kissed her one last time. “As will I, my lady.”
Time to go to work. The Damned had plans to make and people to protect, including Alina herself. Murdoch knew his duty and would see it done. Even so, it took all of his considerable strength to make him leave the bed and start looking for his scattered clothing.
Chapter 3
Kane stood in a ragged line of mercenaries and farmers’ sons and tried to blend in. Sergeant Markus had finally accepted his explanation of how their captain came to be lying dead in an alley. As a result, he’d promised Kane a chance at being hired as one of the duke’s guard. As he’d explained, there were two different divisions of military in Agathia.
The largest group was the troops who served the country as a whole. They dealt with bandits and other threats. The second set was comprised of the elite fighters, the ones assigned to protect Ifre Keirthan himself. They patrolled the city, but especially his residence.
It was interesting that the duke personally viewed all of the potential applicants, deciding who would be offered a position and where each recruit should be assigned. From the rumors that flowed like water up and down the line, the majority of the hires were being assigned to the regular troops. Recently, several patrols had come under attack, greatly reducing their numbers.
Kane knew firsthand about one such attack. He and Hob had themselves accounted for a number of those deaths. There’d been at least two more skirmishes since then. Had his friends been involved? He prayed to the goddess that she keep the Damned safe until he was able once again to stand beside them in battle.
The line shuffled forward again. It should be only a few more minutes before he came face-to-face with the man the Damned were determined to topple from his throne. It was tempting to take advantage of this unexpected audience to execute the bastard immediately.
He rejected that idea as soon as he crossed the threshold into the dim interior of the building. Keirthan’s personal guard kept him surrounded, and Kane would have to fight his way through at least tw
o layers of defense to get close to the duke.
It wasn’t difficult to pick Keirthan out in the crowd. He was the one with an oily cloud of evil clinging to him like a second skin, following his every move. It was not an accident that no one stood within arm’s reach of the man. Even those with little or no sensitivity to magic would be repulsed by the chilly blackness that writhed and swirled around their ruler.
How many of their countrymen had died to create that abomination? Kane kept his hands away from his weapons, but in his head he imagined the sweet slide of his sword through Keirthan’s flesh, plunging it deep and twisting it hard to make sure the man suffered for his crimes.
Better yet, Kane wanted to wrest control of that darkness for himself, turn it back on its master, and let it eat its fill of Keirthan’s soul. The image set the mage mark on Kane’s cheek afire, as for the first time in centuries he hungered to wield the kind of magic that was his family heritage.
Dear Lady, what was he thinking? The last thing he wanted was to touch the blackness that Keirthan had flowing in his veins like poison. He’d seen how that kind of craving for power had warped his own grandfather, turning the man into a coldhearted bastard who sacrificed even his own kin to feed his hunger. If it hadn’t been for the gentle influence of Kane’s mother, he might have very well followed in his grandfather’s path. It had been a hard-fought battle, but he’d walked away from his heritage. Despite his best efforts, the magic still left its mark on him, the one on his face only the most obvious.
He forced his attention back to the moment at hand, watching closely as Sergeant Markus assessed the group of men just ahead of Kane. Each applicant drew his sword and held it out pommel first. What was Markus looking for?
The sergeant made his way down the line of eight men. When he’d hefted the last sword in the bunch, he stepped back and gave the men their orders. From the dejected posture of the first two, they’d been turned down. The next five were directed toward a side door, presumably to join the regular troops.
After they filed out, the duke approached the one remaining applicant. The mercenary started to step back, but then stopped midstep, frozen in an awkward position and clearly not in command of his own movements. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his jaw worked hard, as if trying to force words through his clenched teeth.
The duke smiled and nodded to Markus as he released his hold on the man’s body and mind. Markus waited until the duke stepped back behind the safety of his guards before directing the merc toward a door in the back corner. Obviously, he possessed whatever quality the duke had been hunting for.
Markus returned to his position. “The next eight line up here.”
Kane and seven others slowly shuffled forward to stand in front of the sergeant.
“Weapons out.”
Markus made quick work of the first seven swords, but frowned when he examined Kane’s. What could he possibly be checking for? Kane’s blade was high quality with a curved cutting edge, but carried no taint of magic. The sergeant returned Kane’s weapon and stepped back.
“All but Kane go through the second door. Someone will be waiting to show you to your new quarters.”
After they filed out, the duke stepped down off the dais again. “Is this the man you spoke of, Sergeant?”
“Yes, Sire. This is Kane. He personally executed the man who killed Captain Bayar. Since he was looking for a position with the guard, I thought it was appropriate to invite him here today.”
Keirthan studied Kane with greedy interest. “Thank you for defending the honor of my guard, Kane. Captain Bayar will be missed. It will be difficult to replace him.”
As Keirthan stepped closer, the shadow of darkness slithered forward to wrap around Kane’s body. It sent a burning chill straight through to his bones, requiring considerable effort to hide his reaction and hold his ground. The inside of his skull itched as Keirthan’s mind pushed at the boundaries of Kane’s own. It had been centuries since Kane had last been subjected to such treatment, but his grandfather had taught him well how to defend himself against such an intimate invasion.
The duke’s eyes narrowed as his efforts intensified. Kane held strong, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. It might cost him this opportunity to join the guard, but it would cost him his life if the duke managed to breach his defenses. All he could do was wait Keirthan out.
After a few seconds, the pressure lessened and then disappeared altogether. Keirthan remained close, though.
“Turn your face to the side.”
Kane didn’t bother to ask which way. Keirthan wanted to see his mage mark. He could look all he wanted. If he tried to touch him, mayhap it would be the duke’s day to die. Kane’s, as well, but it might be worth the price.
Keirthan held his hand palm out but didn’t actually touch the mark. “I’ve read of such sigils, but I’ve never actually seen one before. How did you come by it?”
“It was a gift from my grandfather.” One Kane would have gladly gutted the old bastard for, but he made sure none of his anger leaked into his voice.
“Have you much practice wielding the magic behind it?”
Keirthan sounded more curious than cautious. If he truly knew much about the marking, he would have been more prudent. This time Kane could answer without hesitation.
“He was killed before he could infuse the mark with its full potential.” True enough, although Kane had taken care of that himself before he’d finally renounced his magical heritage.
The duke looked like a child whose new toy didn’t perform as expected. “And your father couldn’t finish it for you?”
“I never knew him. It was my maternal grandfather who was the mage.”
Also true. Kane’s father had been sacrificed to Grandfather’s ever-growing need for blood to fuel his magic. He’d even used his own daughter for the same foul purpose, while she carried Kane in her womb. Unlike most of the mage marked, Kane had been born with his.
“Your eye color is also odd.”
Kane shrugged. “Another gift.”
One from the goddess herself, but that truth would get him killed right where he stood. Keirthan continued to stare at Kane for several long seconds, clearly waging an internal battle as to what Kane’s fate should be. Finally, he gave a decisive nod.
“I will offer you a position in my personal guard. For now Markus here will get you settled in. In three days’ time, there will be a trial by combat so we can evaluate the new recruits. I expect you to participate.”
Without waiting for Kane to respond, Keirthan stalked away, his guards scurrying to catch up with him. For a man with an ever-growing number of enemies, he was careless with his own safety. No doubt he thought his cloak of magic would keep him safe. An ordinary man would stand little chance against the lethal combination of Keirthan’s personal guard and blood magic.
But there was one thing Keirthan hadn’t taken into consideration: Kane was not an ordinary man.
* * *
“Lady Theda, the duke would like to speak with you.”
She paused, wishing she had the courage to simply ignore her brother-in-law’s summons. She knew full well that any show of rebellion would only make her already tenuous situation at court far worse. If Ifre ever decided she was more trouble than she was worth, she would die.
She hated the fact that there were days the idea held some appeal. However, the other people under her care would face the same fate, and she would not risk their lives needlessly.
Theda turned to Lady Margaret and her other lady-in-waiting. “Return to the solar. I will join you shortly.”
Her young friend knew better than to let her worry show in such a public venue. Keeping her voice to a low whisper, she asked, “Would you prefer that I came with you?”
Theda smiled, as always maintaining a calm facade. Sometimes her face ached from the strain of the mask of pleasantry she was forced to wear when what she really wanted was to scream. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothi
ng.”
She waited until her two friends safely made their way through the crowded room toward the stairs. They’d all put in their token appearance in front of Keirthan’s associates. The man didn’t have friends, only those who curried his favor. Anyone who felt differently about the man either stayed tucked away on their family estates or mysteriously disappeared.
On her way to where Keirthan waited, Theda made the effort to greet several acquaintances. There were so few left who were overtly friendly to her anymore, a depressing change from when her late husband was the duke. With Ifre’s ascension to power, her own position at court had fallen into disfavor.
Finally, she reached the throne where Ifre liked to sit and watch the ebb and flow of those who sought his favor. Her husband had understood the politics of ruling, but Armel hadn’t basked in the power he had over his people. Instead, he’d worked hard to ensure that they were cared for and protected. In contrast, Ifre was a selfish bastard who never saw beyond his own best interests.
Right now he was busy ignoring her as one of the nobles from a nearby estate described the mare he’d just purchased for his wife. She waited until he paused to take a breath to make her presence known. Ifre was well aware of her standing there, but he enjoyed treating her like a servant whenever possible.
She dropped into a short curtsy. “You wanted to see me?”
“You will attend the trials this afternoon as my hostess. I have guests who will need to be served refreshments. Bring those two women who flutter around you as well. They’re not good for much, but at least they look pretty and can serve the wine.”
Theda dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands to avoid lashing out in response to the insult. Ifre made remarks like that for the sole purpose of goading her. She never let him win.
“We will be there.”
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