by Hazel Hunter
She watched him stand and turn his back on her. “So you hated it,” she said.
“Dinnae be daft,” Brennus said, glaring at the floor. “The Pritani kept us as warrior-slaves. We ken naught but battle and hardship and training for more. Only on the pleasure nights did we ken any gentleness or joy. No’ a man among us could ever again look upon the full moon, or hear the sound of chains moving, without growing hard and ready.”
“You don’t have to be shackled to make love to a woman,” Althea said as she got up and went to him. “You’re not slaves anymore.” She touched his back. “I know you can be gentle. I’m not afraid of you.”
“Battle and killing, ’tis all I ken, Althea.” Looking tormented now, he nodded at her open shirt. “Cover yourself now, and go to bed.”
“I don’t fear you and I’ll prove it.” Shrugging out of her shirt, she peeled off her bra. “Look at me.”
Brennus turned around, but as soon as he saw her naked torso he averted his gaze. “You arenae a pleasure lass.”
“No, as it happens, I’m just a woman.” She took a step closer. “I gave you your first kiss, didn’t I? And despite this menacing warrior-slave reputation you’ve got, you didn’t hurt me a bit.” She pretended to think. “Plus you weren’t in chains, I was. Maybe you’re the one in danger now.”
He made a rough sound. “You did stop two of the famhairean.” When she pressed against him, he didn’t jerk away.
“You turned them into toothpicks. Please put your arms around me.” She had to coax him to do that by dragging his hands up. “There. No blood spilled. You can hold me and not hurt me. I wonder what else you can do. We should check. Kissing, holding…touching would be next.”
His shoulders went rigid. “Althea.”
“It’s just an experiment, Brennus.” She moved back enough to create a gap between their bodies, and glanced down at her swollen, tight-peaked breasts. “I know where I’d like you to touch me. Maybe you can guess.”
One of his hands left her back, and came up to rest on her shoulder. “’Twas never permitted.”
“Now it is. I am giving you permission.” She could see his eyes getting darker, if that were possible. “Touch me.”
The hesitation with which he moved tore at her heart, but the brush of his fingers over the outer curve of her breast made her tremble. At first he stroked her so lightly she barely felt the contact. Then he circled her aureole with his thumb. Her nipple throbbed so hard in response she knew he could feel it.
“You’ve such softness.” He watched his fingers, completely absorbed by the sight of his hand moving over her mound. “Your skin blushes for me.”
The pinkness was spreading too. “That’s because it feels good. Ah.” The feel of him cupping her breast made her sway a little. “I thought about this when we kissed. How it would feel to have your hands on me.”
“And I.” He fondled her slowly, urging her closer with his other hand. “’Tis more to this experiment?”
He drew the word out, making even that sound sexy. “There’s always more to learn.” She drew his head down enough to brush her lips against his. “What do you want to do with me, Brennus?”
He muttered something under his breath, and then a loud knock hammered on the chamber door.
“Chieftain,” Ruadri’s voice called. “Taran and the herders are returned from Aviemore with urgent news. They await you in the great hall.”
Althea felt like opening the door and socking the shaman in the nose. But she knew the chieftain had sent Taran to purchase enough horses for the clan, and urgent news usually meant it was bad.
“Damn it,” she muttered.
Brennus touched his brow to hers, closing his eyes for a moment before he picked up her shirt and bra and put them in her hands. He held onto her fingers. “Another night, my lady.”
Althea smiled and nodded, and then marched into her room to punch a few pillows.
Chapter Fifteen
BREAKING OUT OF their cold, miserable prison hadn’t been Rowan’s idea. After learning that Dr. Useless had set her up to be the distraction for her idiot escape attempt, she’d barely spoken a word to anyone but Perrin. But here she was, crawling out of the hole they’d somehow dug under one of the stall walls in the middle of the damn night.
As Lily crept to the edge of the barn to check the back, Emeline kept watch on the front. Perrin shook her head as Rowan tried to speak, and then made some kind of silly hand signal. The three women hurried around the barn and ran for the drying shed, leaving Rowan to stumble after them.
“Mind telling me what we’re doing?” she demanded in a whisper.
Perrin rose just enough to peek over the shed’s low roof. “We’re leaving.”
“With no supplies, no transportation, and no clue as to where we are?” When her sister didn’t respond she sighed. “Look, they won’t check the barn for another hour. We can go back, fill in the hole, and they’ll never know.”
The dancer gestured to Emeline, and pointed to a gap in the trees behind the farmhouse. “That’s where they brought us in. I’m sure of it. It’s wide enough to follow in the dark too.”
The nurse glanced at Rowan before she murmured, “You’re still pretty shaky, Perrin. We could wait another day.”
Lily uttered a low hiss and gestured down with one hand.
Rowan flattened herself beside the other woman, and held her breath as one of the guards lumbered by the bush. The moonlight danced over the guard’s scar-split face, making her let out a slow breath. Tri, the stupidest of the things that had snatched them, wouldn’t notice an escape attempt even if they asked him for directions.
“Coig,” the guard called out, and the sheep under his arm bleated and struggled piteously. “Fresh meat for you to carve.”
Rowan felt Emeline stiffen beside her, and heard her make a choking sound. Grimly she clamped her hand over the nurse’s mouth and watched until the guards moved out of earshot. Then she let go, and looked over the nurse’s shuddering back at Perrin. “Snow White is about to have another pukefest. If the sound doesn’t give us away, the smell will. We’re going back. Now.”
“You can if you want.” Her sister touched Emeline’s shoulder. “Deep, slow breaths, like last time. That’s it, girl.”
Rowan couldn’t believe how oblivious they were. They really thought they were just going to run out of here without a single problem. “We are going to get caught. Perrin. Are you even listening to me?”
“We can’t go back now,” Lily said flatly. “You heard your sister last night. Althea is coming for us, and she’s bringing help.”
Rowan wanted to smack her alongside the head, but the tough little blonde just might break her jaw. “Yeah, well, Perrin talks in her sleep. She has since we were in foster care. Tomorrow she’ll probably tell you Santa is coming with eight tiny reindeer to rescue us.” She looked toward the barn. “And Althea is dead.”
“She’s not, Ro,” her sister told her as she helped Emeline to her feet. “She’s alive and she’s bringing help. We just have to hide until she gets here with them. But if you want to stay here to prove me wrong, be my guest. Come on, Lily.”
Pride kept Rowan from chasing after them for all of two minutes. The moment she lost sight of her sister the old panic set in.
If you don’t look after Perrin, young lady, someone will hurt her. She’s far too reckless. Promise me you won’t let her go off on her own. Ever.
She’d made that promise to their adoptive mother when Marion Thomas was on her death bed. A widowed piano teacher and a distant cousin of their birth parents, Marion had adored Perrin. She’d spent most of her savings to send her to Juilliard, while Rowan had to depend on patchwork scholarships and crap jobs to pay her way through trade school. Just after Perrin had graduated their mother had been diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer, and died only three months later.
Rowan didn’t resent being the woodpecker to Perrin’s swan. Anyone who saw her sister dance realized t
hey were in the presence of greatness. But sometimes it felt as if her whole life would be spent keeping that damn promise to Marion.
This time Perrin was going to get them both killed, Rowan thought as she darted behind the farmhouse and into the trees. She had to trot to catch up with the other women, who were tiptoeing through the pine needles as if they were covering landmines, and halting to peer around every big trunk like Bigfoot was waiting.
“Since we’re going to do this,” she whispered to Lily, “could we maybe run our asses off now?”
“Emeline felt someone nearby,” the blonde muttered back to her. “We’re trying to see if they’ve got patrols–”
Two torches flared up directly in front of them, revealing Murdina and Ochd barring the path.
The druidess made a scathing sound. “Foolish little wretches. Did you no’ think we would take more precautions after the herbalist tried to escape? We ken the moment you broke the wards I cast about the barn. And to think I wished to teach you how to serve our cause.” She scanned their faces. “The sickly one came through first, did she no’? Was this your scheme, then, wench?”
Nothing bad had ever happened to Perrin before. Everyone fell in love with her, so she’d never gotten beaten up at school or on the playground. And while she had the strong bones and physical stamina of a born dancer, she had never dealt with the kind of pain that Murdina and her thugs liked to inflict.
Rowan had.
“Seriously?” She stepped in front of Perrin. “I made her go first because she wanted to stay behind in the barn. She’s nothing but a coward.” She felt her sister clutch at the back of her shirt, but kept her sneer firmly in place. “This was all my idea.”
More guards surrounded them as Murdina smiled. “Ochd, take this one to the tethering post. Put the others where they might watch.”
“No, you’re wrong. She didn’t do anything. Rowan.” Perrin held onto her so tightly she tore out the back of her shirt as a guard dragged her away.
Ochd clamped a big hand on Rowan’s shoulder as he marched her to the center of the yard between the farmhouse and the barn. “You shouldnae have defied the Wood Dream. Now you shall be punished.”
“Story of my life, pal.”
She couldn’t understand why the guard kept talking to her. She’d told him fifteen different ways to drop dead, but he had some kind of thing for her. It was starting to get really creepy.
Rowan’s belly clenched as she saw the tall, thick post that had been planted in the ground, and the large wooden cage sitting across from it. This is going to be bad. When the crazy druidess joined them she gave her a sunny grin. “So, what kind of punishment are we talking here, Teach? Time out? Paddling? Writing ‘I will not try to escape’ a couple hundred times? My handwriting really sucks, just so you know.”
Murdina waited until the guards had stuffed the other women in the big cage before she faced Rowan. “For your treachery you shall receive fifty lashes. Ochd, hold the worthless slut in place.”
The guard jerked her face-first against the post, pinning her arms around it. Rowan felt cold air rush across her back as the druidess tore away the rest of her shirt. Pressing her cheek against the rough wood, she looked at her sister, who had crawled to the front of the cage and had the bars in a white-knuckled grip.
“Just another beating,” Rowan called to her. “No big deal.” She jerked as white-hot fire scorched across her back, the pain of it so sudden and shocking that her lungs flattened. She hissed in a breath. “I got this. Snow White can give me a rub-down late–” The second lash sliced across her shoulders, taking some skin with it. “Later.”
The first ten lashes schooled Rowan in all new elementary classes of pain. The next ten kicked her up to advanced courses in agony. After that everything came in snapshots. Lily holding onto Perrin. Perrin beating her fists against the cage. Emeline’s pale face going so white it looked like someone had dipped her in milk paint. Emeline keeling over into a limp lump.
Funny how they were all freaking out when she was the one being cut to pieces.
Rowan first braced herself against the post, and then stopped resisting. The whipping never stopped. Murdina didn’t halt once to rest her arm or give herself a breather. The pain became an endless university of suffering, and she could taste her own blood as well as smell it. She didn’t make a sound until she felt a feathery sensation over the raw expanse of her back. Was her skin starting to peel away from her spine? Did she even have any skin left?
Please, God, I’d like to die now. Really. Perrin’ll be fine. Take me home I am so ready oh God please please.
“Rowan.” Ochd shifted one of his hands to her mouth. “Bite down.”
Another vicious lash made her wet face collide with his palm, out of which a small, leafy twig sprouted. He pushed it between her lips, and she caught it between her teeth. The taste of sap filled her mouth, mingling with the blood from where she’d bitten through her lip.
All that held her up after that were Ochd’s hands and the twig between her teeth. Rowan barely felt the last ten lashes, but when they stopped she squinted at the cage through the cold sweat dripping into her eyes.
As she watched Rowan’s face Lily cradled an unconscious Perrin in her arms. A small lump bulged from the dancer’s brow. Emeline was back up and scraping some snow into a piece of cloth, which she carefully pressed over Perrin’s lump. The dancer’s eyelashes fluttered.
Lily met her gaze and gave her a thumb’s up. Rowan managed a small nod before she collapsed to the ground.
Murdina hovered over her, her crazy eyes almost slumberous as she grabbed Rowan’s arm and dragged her to the cage. Ochd released the door bars.
“You sadistic witch.” Perrin lunged out at Murdina, but Ochd backhanded her, flinging her to the back of the cage.
Murdina tossed Rowan into Emeline’s arms. She hurt so much that she finally let out a whimper.
“That one.” The druidess pointed at Lily, and the guard dragged the blonde out of the cage by her hair. He kicked the door shut, replaced the bars and then hauled Lily across the yard after Murdina. The three disappeared into the farmhouse.
“Don’t touch her,” she heard Emeline say. “Rowan, you’ve a great many welts on your back, but none of them broke the skin. I must make a compress for the pain.”
That was when Rowan decided the nurse had gone crazy, because all she felt on her back was torn, agonizing raw flesh. She watched as Perrin lay on the cage floor beside her, and the site of her pretty face with the ugly lump almost made her smile.
“Your head?” Rowan managed to say.
“Lily hit me with a rock. No big deal.” Perrin gently wiped away the tear-wash from Rowan’s cheek. “You know I’m going to kill you after we get out of here.”
“Uh-huh.” Rowan felt Emeline lean over her with something that dripped cold on her ruined back, and decided to do the sensible thing and pass out first.
Her dreams replayed the whipping over and over. Sometimes Rowan split into two as the lashes cut her torso in half. Other times she watched herself being lashed, but there was no whip in Murdina’s hand. She saw Ochd holding her, his cracked face resting on top of her head. The guard didn’t look like a monster anymore. He looked like a lover. Like he loved her.
So, okay, Rowan thought sluggishly. I’m in Hell now.
The feel of the sun and the smell of fresh blood finally chased away the disturbing dreams. Rowan opened her eyes to see the nurse dabbing at Lily’s battered face, and Perrin curled up and sleeping in one corner of the cage. She lifted her head cautiously, expecting to feel her back on fire, and felt only generally sore, as if she’d strained a few muscles.
“What did you put in that compress?” she asked as she slowly pushed herself upright. She tried to look over her shoulder and then felt a damp clump fall away from her skin. It landed on the ground like a slush ball made of half-frozen pesto.
“Hendry gave me that poultice,” Emeline told her. “He said it would hea
l most of the damage and, aye, that it did.” The nurse tilted Lily’s head to one side to examine her badly-bruised cheek. “If you feel better, I’d like to use some of it on our chef here.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rowan said. She scooped up the green stuff and handed it over. “Why’d they slap you around, Stover?”
“Hendry wanted to know why we tried to escape.” The blonde shrugged. “I told him we were playing hide-and-seek with the guards, and the buggers cheated.”
Chapter Sixteen
THE MORNING AFTER Althea’s interrupted interlude with Brennus she noticed that all of the men seemed on edge. Cadeyrn, who usually rose early, never showed up for the morning meal. Neither did the chieftain or his other clanmasters, except for Taran, who always seemed to be sitting alone in a corner somewhere for every meal. For the first time she realized why: the Horse Master watched everyone else while he ate.
She went into the section of the hall she’d mentally dubbed the great buffet, where the clan’s cooks set out all the foods for their meals. For breakfast huge pots of soup and porridge sat steaming beside small mountains of berries and oatcakes. Another row of urns held water, pear juice and the clan’s morning brew, which they made from a variety of herbs and spices.
Though she knew the clan was making preparations as fast as they could, she couldn’t help but think of the other women and their meager rations. Soon enough their starvation would be over. She promised herself that.
“You again,” Kelturan said, snapping her back to the moment. He supervised the clan’s kitchen. “Do you never fill your belly, wench?”
Like the rest of the Skaraven he looked like a gladiator on steroids, but he had a deft touch with food, and an impressive knowledge of herbs. He also treated her with surly contempt, but only in front of the other Skaraven.
“Hey, I need regular feeding, or I get mean. You don’t want to see me mean.” She waited until the clansman getting his meal left. “Come on. Show me what you’ve got.”