by Sasha Lord
He gripped her waist and held her upright. His hand spread wide and his fingers stroked the underside of her breast. “Are you this kind of woman? Do you want this kind of man?”
She shook uncontrollably, unable to understand his vehemence yet magnetically drawn to him.
He pushed her against the wall as he stood back. “This is who I am,” he said softly, almost apologetically. He touched a frayed thread that dangled from her mantle. “You and I are nothing alike. Even if it were possible for me to love, I would not choose you. I vowed not to love on the day my father died, for I never wanted to experience his agony. I want a woman with whom I have no emotional commitments. I want a woman who comprehends my base nature, who accepts my wooden heart. You are a lovely girl, but you could never understand me.”
“And Lady Corine can?” she asked tremulously.
“Not even her. Now go, and we will never speak of this again. I”—he wiped the blood from her cheek with his thumb—“I wish . . . I wish it could have been otherwise. For your sake.”
She nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Do you accept that I am not your dream man now?”
She nodded again.
“Then go.”
She turned, struggled briefly with the heavy latch, then fled out of the courtyard.
With a heavy heart, he watched her escape. “For my sake, as well,” he added softly.
Lost in the depths of her dream, she found herself sinking . . . sinking in a deep bog and each time she struggled, she sank deeper. “Triu-cair!” she cried.
The weasel chattered at the edge of the sinkhole, speaking to her in this ephemeral dream state. Stop fighting, he advised.
Kassandra flailed her arms and tried to shake her leg free, but the other foot immediately sank several inches deeper. “Help!”
Triu-cair scampered toward her, his light weight floating on top of the treacherous terrain. He sprang up on her shoulder and tugged on her hair. The more you fight, the deeper you sink.
“I have to fight or I will lose everything. I will lose him, my life . . . everything!”
You lose only yourself when you lose sight of the truth.
“Augh!” she screamed as the tenacious muck sucked her deeper. Her knees were barely visible and her lovely silk dress was black with silt and rotten moss. Suddenly, a tiny sprout burst from the ground and curled its way upward, forming the thin trunk of a Highland tree. She lunged for it, but it remained just out of her reach. “Just a little bit closer,” she gasped.
The tree, no larger than a poorly tended shrub, began to branch.
“Yes!” Kassandra cried as she managed to grasp one twig. She yanked with one hand, clawing and scraping the ground with the other, but the newborn branch snapped and she fell face-first onto the ground. “No!” she screamed as her upper torso began to sink and her knees were lost to view. She struggled frantically and her hands plunged deeply until even her elbows were buried.
Triu-cair leapt from her body and grabbed her flaming red tresses with his teeth. He yanked, but his strength was useless against the power of the bog.
She rocked, desperately trying to free herself, but within moments, only her head remained above ground.
Listen! Triu-cair screeched. Stop fighting and listen. Kassandra paused, and heard hoofbeats echoing across the desolate moor.
The weasel jumped onto the tree and peered toward the horizon. A legion, he told her. Twenty, maybe thirty horses. Coming directly this way. They will help you!
“He must be leading them!” Kassandra cried. “Dagda! Dagda! Over here!”
The horses thundered closer and the ground shook with the power of their strides. Soon the heaving breaths, the snapping leather and warrior battle cries flooded the landscape, drowning her pitiful calls for help. The spindly tree twitched, grew larger, stronger, but Kassandra craned her neck around it, still focused on the approaching horses.
Then, with a sudden surge, the tiny tree grew a thick trunk and the thin branches spread strong and wide. The horses galloped closer, their momentum gathering and accelerating. Triu-cair screeched and buried his head in Kassandra’s hair and she stared at the stampede with horror.
“They aren’t stopping,” she whispered. “They will trample us.”
The tree dipped, its steady branches encircling and sheltering her. The horses swept around her, each flashing hoof landing inches from her head. The massive creatures careened around her, oblivious to how close they were to the treacherous sinkhole.
Abruptly, one man reined in his steed, and the black horse reared over Kassandra’s partially submerged head.
“Danu?” Cadedryn murmured.
The rest of the horses hurtled past until only he, Kassandra, Triu-cair and the tree remained.
Kassandra stared up at him, unsure for the first time. She hid among the branches, not certain she wanted him to see her.
Here is your man, Triu-cair told her silently. Why do you not call out to him? He could pull you from the bog.
Kassandra slowly extracted one hand and took hold of the sturdy branch. It felt solid and strong beneath her fingertips. “I have learned that some things are not as they seem,” she replied.
The man on the horse pulled up his visor and reached into the thick tree. He plucked several berries from its flourishing branches and ate them. “I was starving,” he said. “Thank you, mother earth—mother Danu—for providing me with nourishment.”
“Thank you, strong Highland tree, for providing me with protection,” Kassandra whispered, afraid to reach out to her dream friend. She did not know this man anymore. He was unpredictable. He was explosive and dangerous. She should forget him just like everyone advised.
His chest rippled with strength and his green eyes blazed with fervor as he scanned the horizon. The weapons on his saddle glinted with deadly meaning. She knew how he held them, how he used them. She knew his capacity to terrorize. She felt his heaving breath as he struggled against the weight of his shame.
She should look away. Leave him. Begin her life without him.
But she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
Kassandra woke slowly and peered up at the ceiling in deep contemplation. What did her dream mean?
Turning on her side, she stared at her sleeping weasel, curled up in a ball at the bottom of the bed on a silken cushion. His lush tail twitched occasionally, indicating that he, too, dreamed.
She rose and looked out the window. The sun was about to set and thick, dark clouds hovering on the horizon were beginning to glow orange and pink. Wind blew through the garden below, causing the branches to sway. Behind her, Triu-cair stirred and offered a small cluck in greeting.
Kassandra glanced over at her friend. “I am terribly confused,” she admitted. “I was so certain we were meant to wed . . . but perhaps I misinterpreted everything.”
Triu-cair stretched his long, supple body, then scampered off the bed and over to his mistress.
“You are a naughty boy,” she chided him as she bent down to scoop him into her arms. “If Kalial knew you were sleeping on the bed she would be very angry. She says you will frighten the ladies.”
Triu-cair clucked again and gently nuzzled her face.
“What do you say to a secret ride? We could sneak out and go for a quick gallop with no one the wiser, just like we often do on the woodland ponies. You must be anxious for some fresh air and I need to clear my mind.” Kassandra sighed and stroked Triu-cair’s head. “I never expected my search to become so complicated.” She rose and found her everyday clothes. “Tomorrow I will tell Kalial that I want to go home. Cadedryn is right: this is no place for me.”
Triu-cair screeched with excitement and leapt from her arms to scamper to the door, then stared at it expectantly.
Kassandra giggled as she tried to run a brush through her thick red hair. “It feels wonderful not wearing that wig,” she said. When Triu-cair squeaked in response, she waved to quiet
him. “Shush! We don’t want anyone to hear us, especially Kalial, and I don’t want to bother dressing in my disguise for such a short ride.” She looked out at the dark clouds. “It might rain,” she commented. “I don’t care if we get a bit wet. Do you?” Not expecting a reply, she walked to her clothing chest and rummaged to the bottom. “I will wear a hooded cape so we will not be recognized.”
Dressing quickly, she pulled her hair back and tucked it under the hood, then surveyed herself in the polished metal propped on the vanity. “Not exactly the loveliest item,” she said wryly, “but as long as it covers my hideous curls, I won’t complain.”
With Triu-cair balanced on her shoulder, she tiptoed out of her room and ran down the stairs and through the servants’ door. Within moments, she managed to make her way along the edge of the courtyard and slip unseen into the stables. She quickly passed a number of stalls housing many fine horses until she reached the mare she had ridden previously. “Hello, Briana,” she said softly, calling the mare by name. “It will take too much time to saddle up and the sun is almost completely set.” She cast a disparaging look at the lady’s saddle as she slid the bridle over the horse’s head. “Besides, I abhor riding sidesaddle!” She led Briana over to a standing block and swiftly mounted astride.
For a moment she felt guilty. She had promised Kalial that she would behave like a lady. “Bah,” she grumbled, shoving her misgivings away. “What harm will come to me from one simple jaunt? I will be departing soon anyway.”
After adjusting her skirts so that her legs were fully covered, she rode out of the stable. Keeping to the deepest shadows, she snuck out of the courtyard and found a riding trail that led into the woods.
She squeezed her legs and the mare broke into a smooth canter. Although Briana was not as sturdy as a woodland pony, Kassandra found that her sensitive temperament made the ride more exciting. She laughed at the feel of the wind across her face and patted Briana reassuringly.
Triu-cair clung to Kassandra’s shoulder and spread his lips in an imitation of a grin.
“Ready?” Kassandra asked both the mare and the weasel. Briana pricked her ears forward and the weasel wrapped his tail tightly around her neck. “Let’s go!”
They surged forward, sailing along the path in blissful freedom. They easily leapt a small log that had fallen across the path and splashed through a meandering stream. The last rays of sunlight disappeared and a bluish haze guided their way.
“Faster!” Kassandra urged and the mare responded with a burst of speed. The billowing clouds darkened and a few drops of rain splashed Kassandra’s face. “Faster! Faster!” she cried. “Just a bit farther!”
They careened down the path, their eyes adjusted to the deepening night. An owl hooted as they passed by and Kassandra laughed. She buried her face in the mare’s mane as the rain began to fall in earnest. “Drat!” she grumbled as she pulled on the horse’s reins, unwilling to risk the mare sliding on the slippery ground. Thunder reverberated in the distance and Kassandra mentally acknowledged it was time to head back to the castle. She patted the mare and slowed her to a trot, looking for a wide section of the path so they could turn around.
The trees huddled close, their wet branches brushing against her arms and legs and drenching her clothes. The sky blackened as clouds blocked even the moon, causing the once welcoming forest to become dark and dangerous.
The mare trembled, unable to see the ground or smell the path. She was a finely bred lady’s mount, not a fearless woodland pony, and her muscles twitched nervously. She abruptly stopped as a blast of thunder shook the ground and she flicked her ears back and forth in agitation.
Kassandra wiped her face and attempted to see through the trees. “Come on, girl,” she encouraged.
The mare shied sideways, crashing against a tree and bruising Kassandra’s leg.
“Easy,” Kassandra murmured, ignoring her leg as she attempted to soothe the animal.
Thunder rumbled again, much closer this time.
Briana whinnied and half reared.
“Over there.” Kassandra squeezed her legs around the mare’s girth. “There is a clearing just up ahead.”
Triu-cair peeked his nose out from underneath Kassandra’s hair and looked around warily. His sharp nails dug into Kassandra’s neck as he clutched her tightly.
“Both of you must stay calm,” Kassandra commanded. She clucked and bent over the mare’s withers.
Briana stepped hesitantly forward, but her hoof landed on a twig, snapping it. She shied backward, almost unseating Kassandra, for her back was getting slippery as her nervous sweat mixed with the cold rain.
Kassandra clucked again, speaking softly and soothingly to the mare, when suddenly a bolt of lightning lit the sky.
The mare whinnied in terror and burst into a mindless gallop through the trees, breaking branches and stumbling over fallen debris.
“No!” Kassandra screamed. A heavy branch slapped her face, ripping her hood off and scratching her face and neck. She barely managed to stay mounted as Briana darted around another tree and crashed through a set of prickly bushes, but the weasel tumbled to the ground.
“Triu-cair!” Kassandra cried.
Thunder reverberated and the horse skidded to a stop, rearing high. Her long legs flailed in the air and her eyes rolled in terror.
“No!” Kassandra screamed again as she felt herself sliding backward.
The mare plunged to the ground, then surged forward as Kassandra scrambled to stay on her back. She gripped the mare’s mane in desperation, but another lightning flash sent the mare careening in a new direction. The horse fell to her knees and Kassandra soared over her head, slamming headfirst into an old oak tree.
Chapter 7
Cadedryn cursed the thunder and lightning. He turned up the collar on his cape and hunched down, but the rain drenched his clothes and chilled his skin. His war-horse was tense but obedient, trained since youth to behave under strenuous conditions and despite loud noises.
“I wouldn’t be out if it weren’t for that blasted lass,” Cadedryn grumbled. Kassandra’s crestfallen face had made him feel guilty and he had taken a ride to relieve his tension. “I could be in the great hall, sipping warm ale and eating fresh food. It’s all her fault.”
A huge flash of lightning illuminated the thunderous clouds and Cadedryn peered around him with concern. He did not like being under the trees in such a storm. He spotted a clearing just ahead and guided his horse toward it.
Suddenly, he heard a woman scream, then the sound of a horse crashing madly through the trees in the other direction.
“What woman would be out in this?” he growled as he spurred his horse forward. He listened intently, hoping she would cry out for help again, but he heard nothing more. He frowned, becoming worried. “Miss?” he shouted above the downpour. “Miss? Are you hurt?”
An inhuman screech coming from the left raised the hairs on the back of his neck. The screech came again and a shadow danced along the treetops. Cadedryn reined in and pulled out his sword. “Who goes there?” he called.
“Ohhhhh . . .” a woman moaned.
Cadedryn glanced over and spotted her huddled form. Her dress was torn and multiple scratches marred her freckled face. Her head rocked to the side, but her eyes remained closed.
“Ohhhhh,” she moaned again.
Cadedryn dismounted and kneeled next to her, keeping a tight hold on his sword. “Miss?” He touched her neck. It was warm and a pulse beat strongly just beneath the surface. He tried to brush the hair from her visage, but the wet strands slipped from his grasp and he quickly gave up once he heard the inhuman screech once more, this time followed by a strange chattering.
Cadedryn peered up and gazed directly into a pair of glowing red eyes. Certain the creature was set to prey upon the hapless woman, he swung his sword at the beast, narrowly missing it.
The animal pressed flat against the branch, spun around and cocked his head. Then, taking care to circle widely ar
ound Cadedryn, he jumped from tree to tree, and scampered down a trunk to crouch by his mistress’s side.
Seeing the creature hunkering next to the woman, Cadedryn clenched his teeth. A polecat. He flushed, annoyed that the small weasel had distracted him from looking after the injured woman. He sheathed his sword and angrily waved the creature away, then scooped up the semiconscious woman, faintly aware that the weasel only circled around and returned to stare at them both.
Another blast of lightning followed closely by the loud rumble of thunder made him hurry to his horse. “Miss, we are going to one of the crofters’ huts just over that ridge. It is far closer than the castle and you need to get in front of a fire before you take a chill.” As he swung up bearing the woman, the weasel scrambled onto the horse’s rump, causing the horse to start in surprise. Cadedryn tried to brush the weasel aside, but the creature bared his teeth in warning, then slipped inside an open saddlebag. Giving up with a curse, Cadedryn switched his concentration to balancing the woman and guiding the horse.
Within a few minutes, Cadedryn located the cabin and ducked inside. His horse made its own way to the small shelter adjacent to the cabin, but the weasel boldly followed them indoors.
“I hope you don’t soil my clothing,” Cadedryn told the weasel as he peeled off his cape and flung it over a chair. The polecat bounded up into the rafters and found a comfortable place to lick himself dry, taking care to keep his mistress in sight.
Cadedryn laid the woman on the ground in front of the hearth and began building a fire to warm her. As soon as the flames caught, he turned to tend her.
His jaw dropped. In the torrential rain outside, he had not seen the color of her skin and hair. Now, in the flickering firelight, her bold red tresses looked like wild flames untamed by human hands and her sun-touched skin glowed with vibrant health. Never had he seen such magnificent coloring or such lush curls. Highborn women were pale and carefully coiffed, appearing like elegant waifs drifting gracefully from room to room, whereas this woman exuded pulsing vitality.