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  He looked over his shoulder at the king lowering to his knees; the lusty royal had the courtier’s member in his mouth.

  Lachlan nodded to the sorceress. He did not have much of a choice. Lachlan breathed the aroma of sage when the young sorceress brushed passed him to talk to the king. He watched her closely while entering the small chamber off the side of the hall.

  A golden tallow candle on a round table lit the sparsely furnished room. After closing the door, he waited for what seemed a lifetime, pacing the marble floor in the anti-chamber. Just when his impatience reached its zenith, the door opened. Rhiannon walked in, her face was colorless and sullen.

  The moment she saw him, her eyes brightened and she threw herself into his arms. “You came for me,” she cried.

  He held her familiar body, his arm wrapped around her slim waist. “Nothing would keep me away from you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes when she looked at him. She held both sides of his face and savagely kissed him. The essence of her mouth tasted a little different. Then he smelled a woodsy scent. Sage?

  He pulled away from her and frowned.

  Rhiannon’s smooth hands ran down his chest, halting at his groin. She rubbed him and pressed her breasts against him. “I have missed you so,” she purred.

  There was something unusual about her. Her blue eyes held a contrived affection. Rhiannon may be many things, but never false.

  Lachlan gathered her closer to him and took a step back toward the table, kissing her with vigorous attention. He reached behind him for the candlestick. In one swift move, he brought the flame around to burn Rhiannon’s hand.

  She leaped back and hissed at him.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  Holding her injured hand, she threw her head back and laughed. Her features turned darker until Rhiannon’s sweet face appeared a little older, more sexually sinister.

  Lady Torella’s pink tongue touched the side of her moist lips.

  Lachlan pulled his sword and she pushed it aside.

  “You cannot kill me, I am immortal.”

  “Where is Rhiannon?”

  “In the dungeon.”

  Lachlan went to walk around her but she blocked his path. “Do not do anything…rash.”

  He pushed her aside. “Stay away from us.”

  The hall was quiet when he strode through. The king must have retired to his personal chambers. With little other noise competing in the dead of the night, the echo of his boots on the wooden floor sounded loud to his ears. He expected a dungeon warden to stop him, but none halted his progress.

  Keys hung on the hook by the cell door. Nary did he pause when he stole them from the iron fastening and opened the hall door. Taking a fire sconce, he went to look in every dungeon until he saw a blue light shining from underneath the door at the end.

  He opened the dungeon to find a ball of light hovering in a luxurious chamber. Rhiannon lay asleep on a four-post bed with another woman. Both were deep in a peaceful slumber as if they were enjoying a lazy summer afternoon on the glen.

  Lachlan sat on the side of the bed and brushed a strand of Rhiannon’s hair off her warm face. A frown wrinkled her smooth brow. He wanted to kiss away her fears, make everything all right again.

  Leaning over, he touched his lips to hers.

  She pushed his chest, shaking her head in her sleep. “Nae, Grigor. Please.”

  Anger welled inside him. What had Grigor done to her?

  “Rhiannon wake up. ’Tis I, Lachlan.”

  He held her perpetually cold hands to his chest.

  Her eyelashes flittered open, her eyes still unfocused. “Nae, I will not be fooled again.”

  He kissed her hands. “Rhiannon, ’tis true. I am here.”

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes. A smile of relief shone on her face and then her chin trembled. She was trying to hold herself together. It was all he needed to pull her into his embrace and hold her tightly—willing the strength of his body into hers.

  “He killed Mary,” she sobbed.

  Lachlan wanted to protect Rhiannon from the horrors of this place, but he was too late. He hated himself for allowing it to happen. Guilt tore at his heart with each tear his beloved shed.

  He cleared his throat and held her upright. “We are leaving...now.”

  Rhiannon sniffed, her nose was red, her eyes puffy and moist. She had never looked so utterly breathtaking.

  “I cannot go,” she said. “But please take Agnes with you.”

  His stomach fell.

  “Do not jest with me, Rhiannon. We are escaping this place. I promised to return you to your family.”

  A spark of determination entered her blue eyes. “I am doing this to save my family.”

  “They would not want you to sacrifice your life. There has to be another way.”

  The lass next to Rhiannon stirred awake. At the sight of Lachlan, she scrabbled off the bed and cowered in the corner.

  “’Tis all right, Agnes. He will help you escape,” Rhiannon said.

  Lachlan frowned.

  “I have had enough of your demands”, he growled and swiftly rose. Grabbing Rhiannon’s hands, he pulled Rhiannon out of the bed and slung her over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” she squealed.

  “Saving you!”

  Her legs kicked in the air and he smacked her on the bottom. Turning in an arch, he glanced at Agnes. “If you want to come, then follow me.”

  The lass scrambled to her feet. Lachlan held onto Rhiannon’s legs and strode out the dungeon. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the top landing.

  His body froze.

  “Put me down,” Rhiannon tersely whispered.

  He wished she did not have to see this, but it was inevitable.

  Slowly, he released her and she faced him with fury. “Do not ever…”

  He turned her around and she stumbled backward against his chest.

  Over a hundred soldiers stood in the castle yard, their swords drawn.

  Lady Torella sauntered in front of them with the king on her arm. Both were dressed in their finery. “Milord Lachlan, I knew you would do something… rash. But did you have to kill all the guards on the way to the dungeons?”

  Lachlan wrapped his arm around Rhiannon. “I killed no one.”

  “Tsk, tsk.” The sorceress kissed the king’s cheek. “Lying to His Majesty is treason, milord. Be careful what you say.”

  “What is she doing here?” Rhiannon whispered.

  He could only shrug.

  “Your father will be very upset with your traitorous actions, Lord Lachlan,” the king announced.

  Lachlan went to explain. “Your Majesty—”

  “You will be tried along with the witches for murder and conspiring against the crown. Take them below!”

  The soldiers descended upon them.

  “Nae, he had nothing to do with it. I…I bewitched him to help us escape,” Rhiannon argued, but the king had already lost interest and left with Lady Torella on his arm.

  The soldiers pulled them apart.

  “Rhiannon!” he called to her, but soldiers blocked his view as they escorted her down the passage to the dungeon vaults.

  The guards grabbed his arm and ushered him down the stairs, pushing him into a separate chamber with no light or windows.

  He cursed himself for falling into the sorceress’ trap. She told him where Rhiannon was, goaded him into escaping with her. Lachlan wanted to kick the wall for his stupidity.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rhiannon was taken to an unfamiliar part of the vaults where the guards shoved her into an empty dungeon. She opened her palms and summoned the ball of light. The blue glow illuminated the filthy dungeon. Suddenly, she felt a presence. Turning around she found the gypsy standing behind her, her gray eyes piercing.

  “Why are you still here?” the old lady asked.

  Rhiannon’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and she conjured a chair to collapse in. “You woul
d not understand.”

  “You have the powers to take this castle apart, stone by stone, and yet, here you sit in a dank, rat infested cell waiting to be sentenced to death by mere mortals.” The gypsy flicked her fingers and a table appeared. She sat on the bench with the agility of a young lass.

  “I will not give into my dark side,” Rhiannon sighed.

  “You cannot control the dark blood rushing through your body.”

  Rhiannon did not like to hear her fears verbalized. “But I have practiced controlling my powers. You have shown me to…”

  The gypsy cackled, the sound changing from a low chuckle to an eerie laugh. The blue light showed the old woman with colorful garments transform into a young, firm body wearing a black, low cut gown.

  Rhiannon shot to her feet. “Torella!”

  “The spells you learned were not for controlling your dark powers, but to enhance them.”

  “Nae,” Rhiannon cried, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Even now you struggle with my vast powers within. Come the next sunrise, the day of your twentieth, it will consume you.”

  “I will not allow it!”

  “Enjoy the last day of being a Celtic witch,” the sorceress hopped down from the table, a knowing smile on her face. “I will be waiting for you.”

  She vanished. Cold dread settled in Rhiannon’s chest. Absently, she touched the tingling ache on her forehead and the skin felt oily. She needed Lachlan’s strong arms around her, calming the panic that threatened to destroy her composure.

  They could not have taken him too far. Summoning up the vision of him, Rhiannon focused her powers to transport her body. She closed her eyes and reopened them in a dark chamber that smelled of rat droppings.

  “Who is there?” Lachlan’s voice carried into the dark.

  “’Tis me,” she said and steadied her stance. It still made her feel queasy when she traveled through walls.

  “I cannot see you. Where are you?”

  She sliced her hands through the air and an orb of light shone in the chamber.

  He stood in the middle of the dungeon with his hands on his hips; his brown eyes looked at her with a vacant stare, hiding his emotions from her.

  “Lachlan…”

  He picked up her hand and studied the skin on the back.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked.

  “Making sure it really is you,” he said. Slowly, his eyes softened and he placed a tender kiss on the inside of both her wrists. “I am sorry I failed to rescue you.”

  The sad tone in his voice tore at her heart. “Do not judge yourself.” She tilted her head to place a kiss on his lips. “There are forces battling against us.”

  “We can still fight.” His brows drew together in an unwavering frown.

  She shook her head. “I do not want to fight. But I ask a favor from you.”

  “Anything.”

  “Pledge to me you will tell the trial members that I bewitched you into helping me escape.”

  “Nae.”

  “You must. ’Tis the only way you can be saved.”

  “But…”

  “Pledge.”

  He folded her into his arms. The familiar sound of his heartbeat comforted her.

  “I have a gift for you,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “I hid this for you.” He pulled out a necklace from inside the lining of his breeches.

  She melted inside. Rhiannon did not know how he retrieved her pendent, and she did not care.

  Placing the delicate silver rope around her neck, he murmured, “I know not what the morrow brings. If all we have is this morn, then let us enjoy each other.”

  He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers with a lingering kiss.

  She pulled away and smiled. With the wave of her hand, she chanted, “I command these walls to grant me a chamber made for love.”

  A golden light washed across the walls, lining the damp stone with thick rugs and paintings of scenic highland landscapes. The floor littered with fresh rushes and floral herbs along with hundreds of candles illuminating the darkness with a romantic appeal.

  Hanging from the rafters, a huge bed appeared with thick coverlets and red velvet bed curtains.

  “If ’twas unknown to me, I would say we were back in your chamber at Gleich Castle.” Lachlan smiled at her, showing her a slight dimple in his cheek. The man was more handsome than any man had a right to.

  Rhiannon placed his hand against her cheek. The rough skin on his palm made her feel reassured, protected. His eyes softened, his head tilted to the side.

  She declared, “I love how you look at me as if I am the only woman you have ever seen.”

  “The only woman I have ever loved,” he added.

  She turned away, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Would he still feel that way if she turned evil?

  With the tip of his finger, he guided her chin back to face him and gave her a gentle smile.

  “I have much to lose,” she said, her heart aching.

  “You will never lose my heart. Even after my soul leaves this earth, my love for you will remain forever.”

  She could not stop the tears from falling. They fell for this tender man, for a future they would never share, for a love that was forbidden—for a happy life together that could have been.

  With caring hands, he undressed her, kissing every inch of her revealed skin.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her lips to his.

  “You should not have come back for me,” she whispered.

  “I would risk a thousand lives just to touch you one last time.”

  He picked her up and laid her on the bed.

  He shrugged out of his clothes, and Rhiannon admired the powerful muscles rippling under the muted candlelight. His arms looked strong enough to lift the bed she lay in, his potent masculinity stirring her loins.

  He joined her on the bed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  Lowering his head, he settled between her thighs. Tingles fluttered in her stomach. Her muscles strained with tension, waiting with anticipation of his tongue. Her hands shook and she gazed downward.

  What was taking him so long?

  The dimples in his cheeks deepened with wickedness, his eyes devilish. He was making her wait on purpose. Argh!

  Just when she was about to reprimand him, he licked her slit with one powerful stroke. A jolt of desire went straight through her body and she moaned.

  Damn him for knowing her so well.

  Again, he licked her. Her muscles liquefied at the same time she released a breath.

  His artful tongue lapped at her with hunger, making sweeping motions around her quivering flesh—darting repeatedly inside her entrance.

  Although she never wanted him to stop, she wanted him inside her, needed to feel connected with him.

  Opening her legs wider, she motioned with a finger for him to come up.

  With one last naughty flick of his tongue, he climbed between her thighs.

  They smiled at each other while he gradually entered her. He filled not only her body but also her spirit with tender intimacy. The shift in his energy was no longer violet, but a deep red. It swirled around her, infusing her being like a lover’s sigh. She felt all his emotions: desire, devotion and protectiveness. They were so close she did not know where her body ended and his began. They melted as one with each beat of their hearts. Moving in rhythm like the waves of the ocean.

  This was the man she loved.

  She never dreamed she could feel this way.

  She closed her eyes; her body enveloped his. She tightened her arms and legs around him, arching to meet his thrusts. She caressed the length of his sinewy back. In exquisite torture, her body rippled with a fiery sensation.

  Lachlan’s mouth swooped down to possess her lips, and they both found their final glorious moment.

  He rolled to the side and pulled her into his arms, his warm breath fanning the to
p of her head. She ran her hand against his slick chest and cuddled further into his embrace.

  He was her safe paradise. One she never wanted to leave. The drugging vestiges of sleep tugged at her dry eyes, and she closed them for a moment.

  The door burst open, and her heart pounded her awake.

  Four guards filed into the chamber and pulled them out of bed.

  “Get dressed,” Grigor snarled and threw her clothes at her.

  Lachlan went to charge the Inquisitor when the guards held him back.

  Grigor smirked at Lachlan. “’Tis time you both were judged. And this time, I will make certain you are sentenced to death.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The morning sun had yet to warm the main road leading east from the castle into the overcrowded town. A cool breeze ruffled Rhiannon’s locks and she shifted the strays from her face. Her bound hands were in front of her as she rode on an open cart. Lachlan stood next to her, his eyes blank, his jaw tensed with defiance against the wind.

  Her heart pounded faster the closer they traveled to Tolbooth. Their cart stopped at a newly built structure with imperial turrets surrounding a large steeple. She tried to read the Latin transcription on the front of the building, but her attention shifted to a mob of angry people, blocking their cart from entering the tall arched entranceway. They screamed and yelled at her, calling her names and wishing her to return to hell. She had never experienced so much intense loathing.

  A rotten apple flew over the mob, hitting her temple. A sharp pain spiked behind her eyelids, but she forced herself to remain steady.

  “Damn you!” Lachlan shook his fist in the air. “Are you all right?” he asked, the concern in his eyes was almost her undoing.

  Rhiannon swallowed her sobs and nodded with an assurance she did not feel.

  Lachlan shifted in front of her, blocking further projectiles.

  The crowd remained in front of the horse, shouting and pounding their indignant fists in the air. The cart could not move.

  “Dear Goddess,” Rhiannon leaned on Lachlan for support. “They mean to lead us through these people.”

  A regiment of soldiers piled out of the courthouse and surrounded the cart. Rhiannon did not want to get off her meager transportation.