Heart of a Warlock [Celtic Series Book 3]

by Lyn Armstrong

  Unless…

  Unless something happened to Sir Rutger.

  Then her sister would be safe from marrying him and she would not have to seize Callum’s niece. Her hand clenched around the dagger. Rising slowly, she walked to the door. The iron bar grated against the wooden chamber, sliding across.

  Her heart raced; the door was unlocked.

  She rubbed the back of her neck and turned toward the bed, her mind a wild mixture of hope and fear.

  Lying on the bed, she placed the dagger under the pillow and waited.

  Sooner or later, Sir Rutger’s arrogance would lead him to her door and when he came, she would find the courage to do what needed to be done.

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  Chapter Six

  The warmth from the hearth mingled with a cool breeze through the window. After half the day passed, Alayne’s muscles relaxed and she drifted into a deep sleep. In what seemed like only moments, she was jolted awake. Someone was in her chamber.

  She heard footsteps come closer to the bed.

  “Who is there?” she asked. Slipping her hand under the pillow, her fingers clasped the steel handle of the dagger.

  “I see you have been waiting for me,” a familiar seedy voice replied.

  “Sir Rutger,” Alayne tried to keep fear out of her tone. “I have been waiting for you.”

  “What has happened to your eyes?” he asked, his voice seemed closer.

  She could not attack until she knew exactly where he stood. She had only one chance at stabbing him in the heart.

  “I had an accident and am blind. Come closer so I can feel you. I have missed your attentions since I’ve been exiled.” For some reason she did not choke on her lies, unlike when she lied to Callum.

  The bed near her feet dipped under his weight. A hand ran along her ankles and up her gown. She resisted the urge to retreat. He had to come closer.

  “I like this new you. It arouses me to think you cannot see me,” his tone was thick with wanting. “Come back home with me. I will marry your sister and keep you nearby for my pleasure.”

  Alayne tightened her lips to stop herself from screaming her rage. Her chest rose and fell with her inner torment.

  “I see the thought excites you.” He ran his hand up her inner thighs. “If I had known you would be eager for my touch, I would not have told Regent Moray those falsehoods.”

  “Come closer. I want to feel you inside me.” Alayne said through gritted teeth.

  “Aye, we have lost so much time.”

  He pulled her gown up to her waist, baring her womanhood. She opened her legs, enticing him to move closer. The bed shifted and Alayne tightened her grip on the dagger.

  He climbed upon her body, his erection nudging her intimate opening.

  “I wager you find my cock better than the chieftain’s.”

  “Oh aye, I am sure it will be,” she panted and went to bring the dagger out of hiding.

  “I somehow doubt that!” Callum growled.

  Alayne choked back a cry. Her heart plummeting.

  He was here, watching them. Watching her!

  Sir Rutger’s body jumped off her, and a scuffle erupted near the bed. All she could hear was the sound of fists punching flesh over and over again, and then a groan.

  “Stop it!” she ordered, afraid Sir Rutger was hurting Callum. “Stop it!”

  Damn this blindness!

  Another groan and then the door slammed shut. The lock slid into place.

  “Who is there?” she asked, apprehension coursing through her.

  A tense silence enveloped the chamber.

  “Laird Callum?”

  She quickly brushed down her gown and covered herself.

  Someone came closer to the bed. His breathing laborious.

  Alayne twisted, grabbed the dagger and held it out in front of her. It had to be Sir Rutger. “Do not touch me!” she growled. “What did you do with—?”

  “Your lover? He lays unconscious in the hallway.”

  Alayne cringed at the tone of Callum’s voice.

  A mixture of relief and panic shot through her stomach, making her queasy.

  “He is not my—”

  “Do not lie to me!” He sat on the bed and grasped her shoulders. “I saw you. I heard you.”

  “You do not understand,” she cried.

  “I understand that you deceived me. You said your name was Alayne Dunn. But it’s not, is it?”

  She shook her head. How could she explain without putting her sister further into danger? She had to remain with Torella’s plan and take the babe.

  “My name is Lady Alayne Duncan. I … I did not want to tell you, because I was exiled for treason.”

  She felt him lean back as if touching her burned his hands. She quickly rushed on, “But I swear to you, I did not commit treason. Sir Rutger made up lies and Regent Moray believed him. And now I have no wealth, no home. My sister, Wynda, is all alone in the world without me protecting her.

  “So I … I thought to seduce Sir Rutger, so he would not marry my sister.”

  Callum growled. “You foolish girl, do you think so little of yourself, of your body?”

  “Would you not do anything for your sister?” she asked, her voice slightly breaking.

  He rose from the bed and paced the floor. The smell of rain came through the window and Alayne flinched. He had come back for her. The prisoner’s tracks would soon wash away.

  Rain gradually pelted on the window sill. In a small voice, she said, “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “For coming back.”

  “Seems to me you did not need my protection.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “I do not … believe you.” The hurt in his voice felt like the dagger had reached her heart instead of Sir Rutger’s.

  Alayne fidgeted with her fingers. She wished she could see his face. Although it was probably for the best she did not. To see his disappointment would crush her further.

  “Please do not leave me here.”

  “Milady, I…”

  “Please, take me with you.” She begged more for herself than for Torella’s plans. She really did not want to be parted from him. “I have no where else to go.”

  The rain had stopped, leaving the chamber tranquil. Alayne swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She ran her fingertips along the stone wall until she reached the window sill. There she sat, allowing the moist breeze to caress her warm face. The bed creaked. Callum must be lying down. His silence told her all she needed to know—he was going to leave her. She would be stranded here serving Lord Grant, or worse, Sir Rutger would take her away to be hidden for his pleasure. Alayne sighed and faced outside. She had made a mess of things.

  Suddenly, dark shadows turned into lightened images over the loch. Colors and shapes sharpened. Her eyesight was returning, allowing her to see the last rays of the sun peak through the clouds while sinking behind the Great Glen. It was an incredible sight, the water reflecting reddish-orange clouds in the sky while regal, blue mountains cradled the loch.

  The sorceress told her she would have her sight back at night, but somehow she felt she did not deserve such a majestic view.

  Callum.

  She could finally look upon his face. Pushing away from the window, she walked over to the bed. A gamut of emotions went through her mind. Would his face show how pure his soul and heart was? What did a man as great as Callum look like?

  Her gaze went to his boots, they were well worn but of expensive leather. He did not wear a kilt and stockings, but instead wore tan breeches. The wool outlined the muscles of his long legs to where it ended at his bare waist. He had no tunic on.

  Alayne walked further up the side of the bed. She could not look away. She moistened her dry lips, her chest heavy with desire.

  Impressive muscles rippled over his stomach, giving way to a hard torso with a sprinkling of soft hair. He radiated vitality that drew her closer—she was powe
rless to his lure.

  Finally his face came into view, her eyes mesmerized by his angelic features set with hard jaw lines. His soft lips were relaxed in slumber while his long eyelashes rested together. Strands of blond hair fell over his high forehead. His straight nose denoted his nobility, strong and in control. Little wonder the maids swooned over this exceptionally handsome man. Aye, he had the look of an angel, but with a deep sensuality that stemmed from masculine superiority.

  And here he lay within arm’s reach. If she touched him, would he disappear like a ghost or would he be angry at her for disturbing his rest?

  If he were to leave when he woke, would she not like just one more night with him? One more touch of his body to remember what it was like to be made love to by an angel.

  Alayne lifted her gown over her head and carefully straddled his waist, yet he remained asleep. Her wavy hair fell beside his face while she leaned over him. His mouth was so close, she wanted to kiss his soft lips without waking him, but lacked the confidence to do so. Instead, she remained still, only inches from his face.

  A smile stretched across his mouth, his eyes remained shut. He moved forward and placed a light kiss upon her lips. Alayne’s insides melted, sending a wild spin into the pit of her stomach. The pressure of his lips increased and his arms snaked around her back, crushing her to him. His tongue opened her lips and explored her inner mouth, dancing with her tongue in an erotic rhythm. She groaned deep within her throat, drinking in the savage intensity of his kiss.

  Her nipples tingled against his chest while a hard erection pushed against her moist opening. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to catch her breath. Sitting up, she looked down at him, his flushed body—enchanting.

  His eyelids opened half cast, and the bluest eyes Alayne had ever seen stared back at her. She quickly averted her gaze as if she was still blind. How could she explain her sudden eyesight? This was going to be difficult. With a man like Callum beneath her, it would take all her will not to admire such masculine beauty.

  Rubbing herself up and down his manhood, she heard a single sigh from Callum.

  “Your breeches are in my way,” she said in a saucy tone.

  “Allow me to remove them,” he replied and propped himself to take her nipple in his mouth.

  She threw her head back. By Jupiter, this man felt incredible. She swung her leg to the side and landed on the bed beside him when an urgent knock came from the door.

  “Ignore it,” Callum said and curved over her to kiss her again. His hand captured her breasts, tugging gently on her sensitive peaks.

  The knock came again, this time louder. “My laird!” a feminine voice called through the door.

  “It … it may be something important,” Alayne said, breathless.

  “I do not care,” Callum replied, the last of his words smothered on her lips.

  His fingers trailed down her body and eased into her slippery core. She arched against his hand, opening her legs further for him to explore.

  The door knocking persisted.

  “We … should…”

  “Forget about it. I only want to hear your screams of pleasure,” Callum said, his fingers diving inside her. Again and again, he built her desire until she no longer cared if the castle was being raided; his touch and kisses were all she craved.

  Staring down, she saw him lap her breasts with his moist tongue, thoroughly entranced with her body. She could not believe this delicious man was here, making love to her. She arched closer to him, her skin on fire with physical need.

  His deep voice rumbled over her skin. “Oh, you feel so good, so wet.”

  His words struck a vibrant chord within her and she tightly swallowed. Her body exploded with his fingers jerking inside of her. She cried out, pushing his hand deeper inside her and bucking her hips from the bed.

  When her breathing slowed, she heard the insistent knocking. Callum kissed her on the lips and then licked his moist fingers.

  “Now, I will see who is at the door.”

  Smiling to herself, she covertly watched him rise from the bed and walk to the door. The hearth was the only light in the dark chamber, but it was enough to see Callum cross the room with the self-assurance and grace of a wolf. She sighed and snuggled under the covers. Anticipation for the pleasurable activities to come prickled her skin.

  The door opened and one of the maids almost fell on top of Callum.

  “What is amiss?” he snapped.

  “Sir Rutger is planning on having you both arrested,” the maid rushed her words.

  “What for?”

  “He says you brought an exile to Urquhart Castle.” The maid looked over at Alayne, a sneer twisting her features.

  Callum came back to the bed and picked up his tunic.

  “What are you doing?” Alayne asked.

  “I am going to fix this,” he answered, frustration etched on his brow. Strapping his sword to his side, he went to leave.

  Alayne bolted from the bed. She did not care if the maid stared at her nakedness. “Do not underestimate Sir Rutger.”

  Callum kissed her on the lips and ran his hand up and down her back. He pulled away. “Your eyes look different, somehow.”

  Alayne looked away. “‘Tis the firelight.”

  He hugged her and then went to the door. “You two stay in here and lock this door.”

  The maid rushed behind him and locked the door when he left. Alayne peered at her from beneath her lashes. The unpleasant maid walked around her. Even if she was blind, she could feel the judgmental stare of the woman.

  Alayne pretended to search for her gown and then picked the jade colored garment up and shrugged into it.

  “How was he?” the maid asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

  “Pardon?”

  “How was the laird in bed?” The woman leaned against the bedpost, her arms crossed.

  “Do not be impertinent,” Alayne said in her most aristocrat voice. She went to the hearth and warmed her hands. Hopefully showing her back to the maid would end the discussion.

  “Laird Callum needs a woman with curves. Look at you. You are scrawny with an awful mane of red hair. What makes you think he—”

  “Be silent!” Alayne ordered and twirled around to glare at her, seething with rage.

  The maid stepped closer. “You are not blind,” she said with incredulous accusation.

  A metallic tap sounded on the door and the maid smirked. She went to the door.

  “Do not open it,” Alayne commanded. But the maid unlocked the latch.

  Sir Rutger entered with three of his men. His face was bruised and swollen; his bloodshot eyes glowered at her.

  Alayne backed into the corner, her gaze darting to where she left the dagger.

  Sir Rutger leaped in front of her and grabbed her wrists. “I think ‘tis time we left, my love.”

  “I am not your love,” she spat.

  “Not yet,” he warned and pulled her out of the chamber with the other men flanking her on all sides. He turned to the maid. “You know what to do.”

  The woman smiled and nodded.

  Callum left the large solar in vexation. Lord Grant had not seen nor heard from Sir Rutger since the noon meal. His friend was just as baffled by the charges of exile as he was.

  Dread settled in his stomach like a heavy anchor. He raced down the stairs to the second floor where he left Alayne and rushed through the open doorway. The maid was lying on the bed, her voluptuous naked form spread across the furs pelts.

  “Where is Lady Alayne?”

  “She is no lady,” the maid answered and sat upright. She cupped her large breasts and licked her lips. “I am happy to give you what she could not.”

  “Where is she?”

  The maid pouted. “She left with her lover, Sir Rutger. They have known each other for many years.” The woman crawled across the bed, her eyes glazed with desire. “Mistress Alayne said for me to tell you that she wanted to be with Sir Rutger. That he was going
to reunite her with her sister and then they can be a family again.”

  Callum ran down the hallway and looked out the window into the bailey below. He saw Sir Rutger and his men ride out with Alayne being led on a horse. He could not discern if she went willingly or not.

  He paced the hallway, his mind and heart in a spiral of confliction. Did she lie to him again? Was Alayne just like the sorceress, eager to share her body if it got her what she wanted? He had been blinded to the sorceress’ betrayal—was he just as blind to Alayne? Could his heart handle another woman who used him?

  In the distance, the grating sound of the portcullis closing echoed off the walls of the deserted bailey. Shaking his head for his foolishness, he pivoted on his heel.

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  Chapter Seven

  The group rode hard through the night. Alayne’s buttocks were sore from bouncing up and down on the horse’s bare back. Her gown was damp with dew and dirty from mud being flicked up by Sir Rutger’s horse in the front. She kept looking behind, hoping to see Callum riding up from behind to save her. But she saw nothing, only the dark forest and shadowy hills they traveled over.

  “He is not coming for you,” Sir Rutger called over his shoulder. “The homely maid was paid well to keep him occupied.”

  “He will come for me,” Alayne said and tilted her chin upwards.

  Sir Rutger chuckled. “Why would he? You are a blind whore who deceived him about your disgrace to the regent.”

  “I did not betray the Earl of Moray. You fed him lies,” she accused, her temper flaring.

  “No one cares, milady.” He pulled his mount beside hers and stopped the procession. Leaning over, he shoved his hand down her gown and roughly grabbed one of her breasts. “Soon, I will have your title along with your lands. With you kept in a hidden cottage, I will allow you and your sister to share my bed.”

  “I would rather die.”

  Alayne pushed his hand out of her bodice, her eyes unfocused. If he believed her to still be blind, she could escape before sunrise.

  He slapped her face. The imprint of his hand burned her skin.

  “Not before I tire of you.”