by Dee, Bonnie
“Get up, guys.” The men scuttled awkwardly to their feet, almost tripping over each other in their eagerness to obey her command. “This is Gabe, my spouse, and this is Uaithne.”
“Dagda’s harper?” Cull’s voice was hushed with awe.
*
“Yes.” Ethan eyed the men with disdain and distrust. He couldn’t forget so easily their treatment of Brigid or their part in the death of Dagda’s Protectors.
Once more, Cull and the others fell to their knees. “We are twice honored.” Ma’an spoke without raising his head.
“This is getting redundant. Get up.” Brigid grinned at Ethan and Gabe and spoke in English. “This adoration stuff is hard to get used to.” Switching back to the ancient tongue, she urged the warriors to build up the campfire. “Come, we need to plan.”
Ethan and Gabe sat on either side of her. They hunkered around the fire, Ethan strumming a few notes expressing his impatience to get on with things. Ethan watched as Gabe glowered at Torc. Although Gabe claimed to have gotten over his initial reaction to Torc’s face, what Brigid told him as they hiked to the campsite apparently still pissed him off. Ethan caught Gabe clenching his fists and knew it would have been difficult to control the urge to beat the crap out of Torc. Hell, he would have felt the same way.
*
The three warriors crouched a little away from them, hesitant to be in close proximity to a goddess and her escort. Torc stared inquisitively at Brigid, gathered up his courage, crept closer and whispered in her ear. “My lady, I thought Uaithne was your mate. Is your spouse a mere mortal like us? Does he claim any magical abilities worthy of you?”
Brigid responded harshly to his innocent remarks. “Gabe is my spouse and also a god—a warrior like yourself with great powers. You will treat him with all due respect. You will not bring the subject up again or I will be greatly angered. Do you understand? Leave me until my temper cools.”
Torc nodded and scuttled back to the other two, not even daring to rise to his feet.
“Bridge, what did he say? Damn, I wish to hell I knew the language, but that’s not one of my talents.”
“He didn’t say anything of importance, Gabe. I just reminded him who you are. And told them to leave us alone for a while.”
Ethan frowned as the falsehood passed Brigid’s lips. “Brigid, my bright love, I’ll have to give him the ability to comprehend the language. It will hamper our efficiency if we need to translate everything we say.”
Brigid gazed into Ethan’s eyes, trying to hide her feelings. He had deliberately used those words of endearment, acknowledging their ancient intimacy, an intimacy she only vaguely recalled and wasn’t sure she wished to admit to now. “If we do this, we won’t be able to speak openly.”
“Should we speak openly? You’ve told me often enough that we can’t.”
Gabe sprang to his feet. “That’s it, damn it! What secrets are you keeping from me, Bridge? If you don’t trust me…” He clenched his hands, his nails biting into his palms and stalked away from the warmth of the fire toward the sacred ash tree.
Brigid started to rise, but Ethan stayed her. “Give him a minute. He’s used to being in charge.” He paused. “And he’s used to protecting you.”
“How can I convince him that I’m not hiding anything when you know I am.”
“You know what will convince him.” He sighed. “Go to him. Show him you need him. Then come back and I’ll gift him with understanding the language.”
Brigid felt torn in two. Her feelings for Ethan, for Uaithne, seemed to grow stronger by the minute. And she knew in her heart that Ethan felt the same way. As she became more as one with her skills, memories of her life as a Terran grew clearer, as did her desire. When Ethan called her his bright love, she pictured him above her, his head thrown back, his eyes clenched as he poured his seed into her willing body.
She felt love and affection for Gabe and at one time it would have been enough. Now, she didn’t know. But she knew she couldn’t bear for Gabe to feel as he did. She took a deep breath. She did know what she needed to do.
* * * *
Gabe strode to the ash tree and smashed his fist against it, with his Protector strength unrestrained, leaving a gash the width of his hand.
He knew what was going on between Bridge and Ethan. He wasn’t blind. He knew that Brigid’s love for him wasn’t as deep as his love for her, but he had hoped… Damn! She was trying to hide her feelings for the Irish Terran, but he could always read her. He knew she’d honor their commitment to each other, at least for now when there was a greater task at hand. But later?
“Gabe? Please come back with me.” Brigid stepped around the lush growth of bushes clustered around the tree, hiding them from view of the campsite.
“Why? You obviously don’t trust me.”
“That’s not true. I do trust you.” She pressed her body against his rigid back. The tips of her breasts, like tiny arrows, pierced him through the thin material of her dress. She molded her body like a second skin along the length of his body. Her breath fluttered against his neck, arousing him. “I do need you. I need you now.” Her hands drifted down past his waist and hovered near his zipper. They settled on the denim material covering his penis. Her small hands pressed hard against his rising flesh. “Shall I show you how much I need you? Shall I?”
“Yes, damn it, show me!”
His lips crashed down on hers, bruising them as he ground his mouth against hers. He didn’t want to be gentle. He wanted to feel her quivering in his arms, begging for him to take her. He wanted her to scream so loudly in ecstasy that the men in the glade would know she was his.
He pulled her farther behind the ash tree and dropped with her to the ground, rolling her under him, needing to be on top, to be dominant. He fumbled in haste, unpinning the top of her gown, revealing her breasts to his greedy eyes and a blood red circle divided by twelve lines between her breasts.
“What?” Gabe stared at the strange symbol.
“Forget about it. It’s not important to us. Nothing but this is important to us now.”
She pulled his mouth down to hers, her tongue darting in and out, mimicking the greater movement she craved. She thrust her hips against his and he instantly responded, pushing up her gown and baring her below the waist.
He wanted to take her now, but he had to feel her skin against his. He threw off his clothes, scattering them like sheets of paper. He had never felt so powerful, so voracious. He had always contained the depth of his need for her.
Not now. Something urged him on.
He fell upon her, finding her wet and ready for him. She moaned softly and he whispered in her ear. “Louder. I want your voice to reach the sky.”
He picked up the pace, moving faster and harder and her whimpering cries increased in volume. He neared a peak never attained with her before. As he felt a last burst of passion course through him, he sucked the tender skin at the juncture between her neck and shoulder, branding her.
Her scream of release echoed in the glade battering against the ears of the men who sat around the fire. Three heard the man and his woman and their loins tightened with envy. One heard and his fingers struck a discordant, clashing cord.
* * * *
“Did you hear that, Mrs. Scathan?” Nimhnach raised his mouth from her lush breasts and lifted his head.
“I heard nothing, Master.” She tugged at his hair and drew him back to her aching flesh, but he resisted.
“It sounded like a woman in the throes of passion.”
She laughed, daring to tease him. “’Tis nothing but your imagination.” She undulated beneath him. “Let me give you the real thing.”
He smiled. “You always know what’s best for me, my dear.”
“Always.”
* * * *
Brigid emerged from behind the ash tree, her gown rumpled, her lips swollen and bruised from Gabe’s mouth. His arm was wrapped possessively around her waist. As they drew further into the moonlig
ht, the men observed other signs confirming what had transpired moments earlier. Twigs and leaves were caught in her hair. Gabe’s untucked shirt hung from his jeans. But it was the mark on Brigid’s neck, visible as she crouched down by the campfire, that made Ethan grip Ceol Mhor so tightly he could feel the harp’s protest in his mind.
Gabe’s brand announced his claim on her.
Utter silence greeted their return. Torc opened his mouth to speak and Cull jabbed him in the ribs. Brigid gazed without speaking at the flames and they surged upward as though to comfort her. Finally, Ethan cracked the shell of quiet. “Shall I give him the power to understand the Old Speech now?”
Brigid looked up from the fire, her eyes unreadable, and nodded.
Ethan rose and claimed a large rock, seating himself with Ceol Mhor in his arms. “Brigid and I decided it would be easier to discuss our plans if we don’t need to translate back and forth. Just relax and listen to the song.”
Gabe nodded. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”
Ethan’s fingers glided along the strings, bringing forth a glory of sound. He opened his mouth and poured out notes of such beauty that those grouped around him forgot to breathe. He sang in the ancient tongue a song of shared understanding and trust. At last, Ethan’s voice died away with the final notes and all the lyrics were crystal clear.
“His voice is as pure as the lark.” Cull’s voice was filled with awe.
Gabe started. “Did you say Ethan sings like a bird?”
Cull smiled. “Well, that’s one way of putting it. So, you speak our language now. Good.” Ever the diplomat, Cull knelt before him. “May we beg your pardon now, Lord Gabe, for our earlier transgressions against your mate and her people? We are but simple warriors who were compelled to follow orders to save our families.”
Brigid’s words put a halt to Cull’s apology. “Will you men stop kneeling all the time? We’ve plans to make and no time for groveling. Let’s get together and discuss our options.” She sank cross-legged on the ground.
“Lord Nolen,” Brigid started.
“Lord Nolen?” Torc shook his head.
“Nimhnach. Lord Nolen is what he is called now. He needs a place outdoors where he can worship Ba’al.”
“Ba’al?” This time Ma’an looked confused.
“A demon of great power.”
“Ah, that explains why he could ensorcel us.” Cull nodded with satisfaction.
Brigid threw a disgusted look toward the men. “May I continue? He very likely safeguards any magic parchment, scrolls or books and amulets in the manor house, so we must also gain access there.” She continued with an assured air, laying out her plans like Queen Boadicea preparing to fight the Romans.
Gabe listened with admiration. He still had qualms about bringing her to Ireland, but this was a Brigid who displayed a confidence greater than any she had shown before her Terran abilities had been awakened. He heard his name and refocused his attention.
“Gabe was inside Nolen’s home earlier today. He can get back in tomorrow if he goes round to thank Lord Nolen for his assistance.”
“I doubt he leaves anything of importance lying around,” Gabe said.
“You’re probably right, but the man I knew had an overweening conceit and disdain for others. Believing that most people nowadays wouldn’t recognize his magic tools, he may be a little careless. Note anything that looks out of the ordinary. With your eye for detail, you can describe them to us without missing anything. Dagda might know what they’re meant to do. Ethan and I will gain access to his property and try to locate where he worships.”
“And what shall we do?” Cull asked.
“Stay here. We’ll make our battle plans once we know what we face at Nolen’s stronghold.”
The men muttered under their breath and Torc spat in the dust in disgust. “Why can we not go in and attack him now, surprise him?”
“Because Nolen doesn’t fight fair. He’ll use magic and that is one thing your swords and hammer will not be able to overcome so easily. Be patient. When the time comes, you’ll have your battle.”
Ethan stood. “I’ve got to get back to the Warrior Cave. I’ll tell the site members that Macklin wants us off the site while they’re investigating, but I’ll stay to keep an eye on things.” He smiled without mirth. “I shouldn’t have a problem making them believe me. I’ll try out my Singer abilities on them. With the site closed, they’ll be safely away and we’ll be able to move freely.”
“Gabe and I will return to the cottage. When morning comes, Gabe’ll call Lord Nolen and tell him I’m safe and back in the cottage.” She also stood. “We’ll have to move quickly. May is Ba’al’s month. As the days dwindle down, his power diminishes. I’m sure Nolen plans to accomplish his goals soon.”
Gabe nodded. “Who knows what the bastard’s doing even now?”
* * * *
“Don’t stop, Master. Please.”
Mrs. Scathan urged him on, spreading her legs to give him greater access to her slick core. He loved to feed there, claiming he gained more energy when she came in his mouth and he could lap her cream.
Her breath hitched. “May I get the lash?”
His lips thinned and he sneered. Sometimes her devotion could be cloying. He longed for a female who would fight him.
Brigid.
He knew that if that golden bitch lay beneath him, she’d draw blood, unlike the compliant woman whose body was his for the taking.
Mrs. Scathan liked the lash. Why please her?
“No lash now, Mrs. Scathan. Perhaps later … if you beg me. Now, I’ll just fuck that pussy between your legs.”
He reared back and entered her body. His nails dug deep in her fleshy thighs, leaving bloody crescents.
The pain made her moan. “Deeper, Master, deeper. You know I would give my life’s blood for you.”
And you will. Soon.
Chapter Six
30th April—Morning
“All set, Mrs. Scathan?”
Nolen looked with approval at his devoted housekeeper. She sat at ease in the library, waiting for Gortham to join them. In front of her lay a clipboard, one of the props necessary for the morning’s activity. Wonderful Mrs. Scathan—he could always count on her—for everything.
The door opened and Gortham entered, cap in hand, dressed in his worn-at-the-elbows Donegal tweed hunting jacket. Nolen’s nose twitched. Gortham smelled faintly of the hounds he loved so well.
“I’m ready, your lordship.”
“Good. Come, let’s get started.”
Nolen turned to the round wooden table in the center of the room. He and Gortham sat opposite Mrs. Scathan. Nolen lifted up the leaves, moving them into the proper position to form two concentric circles. From within the space now revealed, he picked up a chalice of beaten gold and a hand-held mirror of pure silver. Both were elaborately decorated with ancient runes, etched using a process involving an infinitesimal amount of Ba’al’s urine—a very powerful acid. He unsheathed a small dagger encrusted with blood-red rubies, unstopped a small carafe of sacrificial blood and filled the chalice.
He was ready. “Hold out your left arm and bare it for me.”
Mrs. Scathan and Gortham complied without any hesitation. Nolen dipped the dagger into the viscous liquid and, the blood still dripping from its tip, slashed the skin offered to him. Gortham hissed as the knife sliced his flesh. The pain was exquisite and his body reacted accordingly—his loins tightened. Gortham enjoyed pain. Mrs. Scathan didn’t utter a sound, but gazed without a flinch into her master’s eyes. Once more, he dipped the dagger into the blood and pressed it against their arms, letting the crimson beads seep into the open wounds. Raising the chalice high, he invoked a demonic spell of deceit, his Speaker abilities at full strength.
“False but true, to the fool will you show the visage called forth. A mask will you wear for him to see. When you look in a mirror your own face is gone. By the power of Ba’al, I command this to be.”
The air in
front of Mrs. Scathan and Gortham shimmered. Their features melted, rearranging into two strangers. Even the clothes they wore were transformed into standard garda issue. Nolen admired his handiwork. “You’re ready now. Bring round the van, Gortham. Mrs. Scathan will meet you out front.”
Gortham tipped his cap and left. Waiting until the door shut behind him, Mrs. Scathan and Nolen rose and moved toward each other. His hand fell to her waist and lingered. Mrs. Scathan leaned in to him, her mouth a breath away from his. It struck his sense of the absurd that they should speak of the mundane when they both wanted to feast upon the other. The waiting only made the anticipated pleasure more intense.
“The concealment spell still hides the van?”
“Aye, Master. To Sergeant Macklin’s eyes it will appear to be from the District Coroner’s office.”
“Remember to go around the back. You won’t be seen from town that way. No point in taking any chances. We don’t want anyone questioning why you’d be visiting Macklin. It’s quite unlikely that you’d come calling on the sergeant.”
“True. We’ll return straightaway and unload the body in the potting shed. It’ll keep nicely there.”
“And very convenient, too. Gortham can grind the body up while you prepare the other ingredients. I’ll come by later and utter the proper incantations and we’ll spread the remains in the Sacred Grove.”
“It’s most propitious, Master, that this offering came to us now.”
“Aye. The ritual slaughtering gives the body even more strength. Well, off with you, my dear. We’ve much to get done this day.” His hand fell to her buttocks and he smacked her sharply. “Later.”
Nolen went back to his desk. It was time to get in touch with the unfortunate American. The lake would be dredged where most likely they’d find his beautiful wife’s corpse. What a pity. He sat at the desk and turned the chair around to look out the window toward the Grove, contemplating the day’s tasks. Now that it appeared that the warriors were able to leave the glade, he’d have to call them forth, kill them and dispose of their bodies in an appropriate manner. Should he add them to the sacrifice planned tonight? He sighed. No, he needed them to tie up the loose ends of the murdered guard and the American female. Once they were dead there’d be no more question about who killed the guard and the woman. Everything would be back on track.