Heart of a Warlock [Celtic Series Book 3] Page 2

  “Seamus, you bedded Lady Torella last, I believe it is my turn for a taste of sweet nectar,” a higher pitched voice came from the right.

  “Nae, ‘tis been a whole two days since I had the pleasure of a woman. This creature is mine.”

  The original voice said, “Look here, lads. She is getting aroused. Her sweet petal is glistening.”

  Alayne groaned again. Could her day get any worse?

  Two hands ran along the inside of her thighs. “Shift forward, lass. I pledge you will enjoy this.”

  Alayne gulped.

  “Nae,” her unused voice cracked. Sweat beaded on her upper lip. Damn her body for being aroused. It was humiliating.

  The slave’s fingers edged closer to the apex of her thighs. She willed them to continue and at the same time stop. Two men on either side of the cage reached through and cupped her breasts.

  She was completely vulnerable to their touch and her body heated with awakening. Unable to resist the liquid fire coursing through her veins, her chest rose and fell while she tried to defy the erotic sensations.

  The deep voice urged, “Come on pet, edge closer to me.” His fingers dipped into her inner thighs to spread warm juices over her aching mound. “You look so delicious.”

  Alayne could hear the men’s heavy breathing and the shifting of their clothing. Were they touching themselves as they touched her? Her erect nipples were lightly pinched and fondled, sending more waves of pleasure through her body.

  “My tongue is right here, pet. Shift closer so I can lick you.”

  She was on fire and could not withstand anymore. The heat in her cheeks increased and she edged closer to the front of the cage, her legs opening wider, as her womanhood gently touched a soft tongue. Hot breath wisped against her sensitive bud.

  The men on either side of her moaned, encouraging her.

  “That’s it, pet,” the deep voice muttered, and then his tongue dived inside of her.

  She inhaled a lungful of air. Wave after wave of pleasure sizzled through her. Hands were all over her body, caressing, rubbing. She did not know what these men looked like and she did not care. She only cared for the sensations. The cage gently swayed and the man’s tongue lapped at her core, probing and sucking.

  Alayne heard herself moan, her body climbing closer to her release. The slave seemed to have felt her responses and increased his tongue’s flicks. She was nearing her zenith when a door opened.

  “Cease thy actions, Seamus.”

  Alayne screamed in her head. Nae!

  All hands left her aching body and Alayne could have cried. Wishing her hands unbound, she craved the ability to finish the duty herself. This was cruelty in the worst form.

  Firm steps of heeled boots came closer.

  From between Alayne’s legs, the smooth voice of Lady Torella said, “I see you are enjoying my sex slaves.”

  Alayne gritted her teeth. Her breath felt lodged in her throat.

  A warm tongue flicked across her protruding nub and she jolted. Caught off guard, a sinful heat shot throughout her body.

  “Hmm, you taste wonderful,” Lady Torella purred. The pad of her thumb circled around Alayne’s receptive flesh, sending bolts of fire throughout her. She had never felt anything like it before. She was increasingly aroused, her body about to explode.

  “I am very displeased with you for allowing my son to escape.”

  Alayne breathed harder, her blood pumping through her ears. What was she talking about? Oh, aye, her son…

  She willed her not to stop what she was doing. Oh, the sensations!

  Lady Torella continued, “I believe you need to be punished.”

  Alayne chose to ignore her words, instead concentrating on the wonderful feelings her body enjoyed. She was so close. Close to her release. Almost there. Keep going.

  The sorceress pulled away.

  Alayne groaned with frustration. The ache in her womanhood was painful, unbearable.

  “Lads, I want you to each take her in your mouth. Bring her to the brink of pleasure, but do not let her go any further. Am I understood?”

  “Aye!” said the slaves in unison.

  Alayne cringed. How could she handle these men pleasuring her, only to stop when she needed release?

  “Please, milady,” Alayne could not keep the begging from her voice. “Do not do this.”

  Alayne heard a sadistic laugh and then the slamming of a door.

  Another man stepped between her legs. “Now, ‘tis my turn.”

  A thick wet tongue plunged inside her, and she jolted at the touch. Unable to defend against her body’s needs, she widened her legs further.

  In her large darkened chamber, Torella peered into the looking glass. Her smooth skin remained clear … for now. The black tight gown hugged her waistline, while a deep décolletage held full young breasts.

  Torella scoffed at her beautiful image of a twenty-five year old woman. ‘Twas an illusion. In reality, she was over three hundred winters. With the use of dark magick and taking the power and lives of Celtic witches, she had kept her youth and beauty.

  However, Adela MacAye had stolen her soul and banished her to purgatory. There she wasted away until resurrected with the blood of a Celtic witch, her son’s wife, Lady Gavenia Roberts. Even though she returned to the living with youth and beauty, Torella knew it was only a matter of time before her looks deteriorated. She needed more power to sustain the illusion.

  Leaning closer to the looking glass, she studied the faint lines under her eyes.

  “Nary a soul would believe I am a grandmother.” She frowned at her reflection and resisted the temptation to shudder. She must not dwell upon the arrival of her grandchild. After all, the child was part Celtic witch, part sorceress. Good and evil, as old as time, a powerful combination.

  Her black heart skipped a beat.

  “I must have the child’s power.”

  Torella lifted a ruby goblet to her lips and sipped the exquisite French red wine. The tart liquid burned as it slid down her throat.

  How was she going to steal the babe from a coven of Celtic witches? By now, they would have a magical force surrounding Gleich Castle, resisting her enchantments. If only she could send someone to seize her grandchild and bring it to her.

  Someone they would not expect to betray them.

  Someone innocent.

  Torella smiled at herself in the looking glass.

  Callum pulled out one of the chairs at the high table. He sat next to his younger sister while Rhiannon lay content in her arms. His sister looked so much like him with wavy blond hair and sea-blue eyes. No one could mistake them for siblings.

  Gavenia looked up from cooing at her baby and gave him a devastating smile. She was happy and he was glad.

  If only he could find such happiness.

  He used to think it was possible. But not now. Not while his father was still missing. Not after Lady Torella betrayed him, killing his betrothed so she could adopt her sweet features through magick.

  The sorceress had married him under the guise of being his betrothed and then made love to him night after night. He would never trust another woman again—would never allow his heart to be vulnerable or allow a woman access to his bedchamber.

  Well … perhaps he was being hasty.

  “What is amiss, Brother?”

  Callum shifted his gaze to his sister. “Naught.”

  Gavenia shifted Rhiannon into the crook of her other arm. “You canna hide your feelings from me.”

  He granted her a lopsided smile. “I am just frustrated that we canna find Father or the sorceress.”

  Gavenia went to say something when her husband sat down beside her.

  “You will not find my mother,” Tremayne interjected, his tone cynical. He leaned over to kiss his daughter’s head and then granted Gavenia a long, lingering kiss.

  Callum scowled and glanced away. It was bad enough to have a Campbell reside within his keep, but to watch him kiss his sister was beyond in
tolerable.

  “Can you two take it elsewhere?” Callum snarled.

  The couple beside him giggled which did nothing to improve his disposition.

  “Brother, what has happened to your carefree nature?” his sister asked.

  Callum faced them. “It left the day you two got married.”

  Their laughter rang through the great hall. Callum rose from his chair and strode out of the chamber. ‘Twas not that amusing.

  His heavy boots rang against the stone steps of a narrow passageway as he descended toward the dungeons. He hoped Master Evan gave him an excuse to torture him. He was in the mood to take out his aggravation on the dour prisoner.

  Taking the keys from the side hook, Callum opened the iron dungeon door to see a raven fly through the barred window. He glanced at Evan and the captive had a hard time concealing his smile.

  “What goes on here?” Callum asked, and slammed the door behind him.

  “Naught, milord,” Evan replied.

  “What was that bird doing?”

  “Perhaps it came to pick at my bones, hoping I was dead.”

  “You will be dead if you do not tell me the truth,” Callum threatened.

  “Ohhh, my head is spinning.” Evan glanced up through his thin lashes. “I am frail from lack of food.”

  Callum rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb. He would play the fool’s game. “Tell me where the sorceress is and I will give you a feast that only Queen Mary would deserve.”

  “Aye, you have worn my honorable heart down. I will tell you of a place that the sorceress goes on the last full moon before the harvest,” Evan croaked.

  “Where be that?” he urged.

  “Will you feed me if I tell you?”

  “Aye, more than you can stomach.”

  “On the next full moon, Lady Torella will visit the Loch Ness and sacrifice a maiden for another year of prosperity.”

  “Loch Ness is very large.” Callum came within inches of Evan’s face. “Be specific.”

  Evan gulped. “Two leagues south of Urquhart Castle.”

  Callum stared at the prisoner, causing the man to squirm beneath his scrutiny. At the moment, he had nothing else to go by—he must see if, indeed, the sorceress was there.

  Clapping the prisoner on the shoulder, he said, “You will, of course, accompany me. And if Lady Torella is not there, you will take the place of the maiden and be the one who is sacrificed.”

  Evan’s dull eyes rounded with hesitation and Callum smiled. The man was not as confident as he would seem.

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  Chapter Three

  The cage jolted, waking Alayne with a start. She felt herself gradually lowered to the ground. She shifted restlessly when her legs touched the cool stone floor, her arms stiff from being pulled backward by the chains.

  The cage door creaked open.

  Alayne tilted her head, eager to hear any noise that would give the identity of her liberator. After two days of exposure to the sex slaves, she had come to recognize each voice and link it to their names and expertise.

  Rough hands grabbed her shoulders and she grimaced in pain. With a lot of shuffling, her body fell out of the large hanging cage. Using weakened limbs, she tried to stand on wobbly legs.

  “Who is there?” she asked, but no one answered.

  The chains around her wrists fell off and clattered on the ground, a heavy linen cloak wrapped around her shoulders, covering her nakedness. The rough texture grated against her soft skin, but she was pleased to have a garment on, giving her a sense of protection.

  A hand grabbed her arm and she walked down a series of hallways. The sweet smell of rain floated inside one of the windows they passed and Alayne pulled back.

  “I pray you, please allow me to wash my hands in the rain.”

  Her hands remained stained from when she fell from her horse.

  A grunt was her only answer, and her arm yanked forward again.

  Although released from her cage to see to her necessities, this was the longest exercise she received since capture. The muscles in her legs burned from lack of use.

  Alayne did not know whether it was from having clothes on her back, how sore her body was, or from the pure sexual frustration over the past two days of almost being pleasured, but something inside her snapped.

  “Either you let me wash my hands or I will scream this castle down with every inch of my lungs!”

  The whoosh from a door opening tugged on the edges of her cloak. Two strong arms lifted her up and carried her into the chamber.

  “All right, whoever you are. You have been warned.”

  Alayne drew breath to scream, stopping only when she was unceremoniously plunked down into a tub of rose-scented water. She was so excited at the thought of being clean; she did not care about the cloak getting wet. With a lot of splashing and spillage, she managed to flip the wet, heavy garment over the side of the tub.

  “Ahhh.” She sank beneath the soothing water.

  Things do not seem as dire when you are in a warm tub of water.

  The pitter-patter of rain outside, along with the fire crackling in a nearby hearth lulled Alayne into a peaceful slumber.

  The door opened and Alayne sat up in the tub. “Who is there?”

  Muffled voices grated on her nerves when she heard her name mentioned. They were talking about her. Damn this blindness!

  “Stand up!” Torella’s voice cut through the stillness of the chamber.

  Alayne rose in the tub on shaky legs. Even with the hearth nearby, she felt a chill on her skin. She sensed Torella stalking around her.

  “Do you like what you see?” Torella asked the other person in the chamber.

  A masculine moan answered.

  “Who have you brought with you to torture me now? Seamus, Niall, Leod?” Alayne asked, raising her head with forced bravery.

  Torella chuckled and tapped her finger on Alayne’s hardened nipple.

  Alayne felt the presence of someone stepping closer to her. She heard the intake of his breath. “‘Tis I, pet, Seamus.”

  From behind, Torella placed both her hands around Alayne’s arms and cupped her breasts. “I thought you may be lonely and have brought my slave to visit you.”

  “Please, not again. I canna take anymore.”

  “Tsk, tsk. Let us not spoil the eve’s festivities with whining.”

  Torella’s hands sent an enchanted heat through Alayne’s muscles. Every time the sorceress touched her, Alayne could not resist the lure of sexual drive.

  “Touch the lass,” Torella urged the slave. “She is not new to your caress. Are you, my darling?”

  Alayne tilted her head back and rested it on Torella’s shoulders, allowing her body to build with unwanted arousal. She waited for the slave to touch her, but instead she felt a drying cloth skim down her arm, wiping the droplets from her skin. The familiar scent of Seamus’ breath feathered across her face as he moved the cloth sensually over her body.

  He helped her out of the tub of water and finished the duty of drying her, lingering on her womanhood. His lips softly nibbled on the curly hairs and Alayne resisted the need to push him away or pull his head closer to her.

  Torella trailed her fingernails along Alayne’s shoulder blades and bumps appeared on her skin.

  “Do you remember when I first found you half starved in the woods with only the clothes you had on. I took you in and gave you shelter and food. All you needed do was to keep my defiant son in the cottage. I even took your eyesight so his bonny looks would not sway you. But you defied me!”

  There was no point arguing with the sorceress. She had helped her son escape so he could save the life of his beloved. In her heart, she knew she did the right thing.

  “I have a way you can atone for your disobedience,” the sorceress purred.

  The slave’s skillful tongue pushed through Alayne’s lips, tormenting her.

  “Pray, tell me what I need to do,” Alayne’s voice
shook and she closed her eyes.

  “I want you to seize my granddaughter from her home and bring her to me.”

  Torella’s words were icy like the cold rain outside. Alayne pushed the slave away. “Nae, I willna.”

  Her body screamed for pleasure, but she tried to ignore it. She could not take a baby from its parents.

  “Aye, you will. If you ever want to see again…”

  “I care not. I can live with blindness; I could not live with such treachery.”

  “I thought you might be so inclined. Therefore I have decided to show you something which requires your eyesight.”

  Alayne heard Torella’s footsteps moving away from her. Suddenly, a dry cloak fell over her shoulders and she felt the slave’s hands tie the knot at the front of the garment.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  The slave grunted and moved away when Torella came back.

  The sorceress chanted something beneath her breath. The cursed darkness that plagued her for so long slowly cleared. Alayne blinked; her gritty eyes felt like they were filled with sand. She rubbed them and moisture welled at the edges of her eyelids. Her focus gradually sharpened until she could see the chamber and its rich furnishings.

  The beautiful sorceress stood before her in a midnight gown. A handsome, bare-chested slave with curly auburn hair and broad lips stood next to her. They both stared at her.

  Her eyesight had returned. She wanted to leap into the air and shout for joy. I can see, I can see!

  If not for the sorceress’ scowl she would have.

  “Perhaps you will not refuse me when you witness what is to become of your beloved sister.” Torella grabbed Alayne’s hand and led her to a bejeweled metal bowl filled with red liquid. The sorceress waved her hand over the bowl.

  Suddenly, a picture of her sister materialized in the liquid. Alayne gasped. She had never seen such a thing before. Leaning closer, she viewed Wynda in her chamber, brushing her light burgundy hair, the same red color as her own. Wynda looked miserable, tears streaking her pale cheeks.

  “Your sister is betrothed,” Torella blurted.

  Alayne’s heart clenched, the very breath taken from her lungs. “She is a child.”

  “Sir Rutger has grown fond of the child in your absence. Since he was unable to seduce you into marrying him, your titles and lands will fall to him once he is wed to your sibling.” Torella ran her fingers through Alayne’s hair, causing her to shudder. “I hear the man has an unusual sexual appetite. I am sure your frail sister will not last long under such brutal ministrations.”