The Celtic Witch and the Sorcerer [Celtic Series Book 2] Page 6

  "I want to go home!"

  * * * *

  Coira lay naked on the silky furs in her master's bed, the whip draped across her breasts. The door opened and closed and she smiled. She had been waiting for him all afternoon. The bed curtains parted and Coira gave her most sensual pose.

  "Lovely,” said a whiny voice.

  Coira rose. “Evan, what are you doing here, and where is Master?” Her nose wrinkled from the reek of the steward's old tunic.

  Evan sat on the bed, his glassy eyes shined while his gaze roamed over her body. “He has sent me to banish you,” he replied, and skimmed his dirty hand over her breasts.

  She recoiled and slapped his hand away. “He would never..."

  "Aye, he would."

  Evan grabbed her wrists and pulled her off the bed. “Ye must go quickly. Master will be vexed to see you here.” He threw one of the furs over her shoulder.

  "Wait! I do not wish to leave. Where would I go?” Coira pulled the fur tighter around her shoulders. “I will not return to my father's vile farm. I would rather die."

  Evan's gaze had not moved from the outline of her breasts and Coira smiled with a new ploy.

  "Can I not stay with you in the village?” She dropped the fur around her shoulders to expose her breasts. His eyes brightened. Without missing the opportunity, he groped them. She moaned, pretending to like his careless attention.

  Evan licked his cracked mouth. “Ye know that I also like men's flesh?"

  "Aye.” Coira rubbed his large cock through his stained kilt. “I can help lure them to yer bedside."

  "Aye?” Evan showed his rotten teeth through a smirk. His hand ran down her stomach to between her thighs. His fingers roughly pushed inside her flesh. “Ye must remain out of sight of the master."

  Coira nodded and suppressed a grimace. She turned around and bent over, exposing her buttocks. From behind, she heard him moan with delight and then fumbled with his kilt.

  As long as she was within the fortress, she would have her revenge.

  * * * *

  Tremayne leaned against the large table in his alchemist chamber. This was his personal room and was not entered by anyone but him. It held all his mother's magick books, potions, and ritual possessions touched by dark elements. Only a true sorcerer could use the power of his mother's mystical belongings. He enjoyed dallying in the dark arts, but grew weary over the years. Unlike his mother, the dark side did not corrupt his soul. Aye, he needed sexual energy for his powers to survive. But growing old was something he did not mind, in truth, it was something he strived for. However, with only seven moons left to Samhain, there was only one book that kept his interest.

  He opened the ancient book of Dark Magick. The aged paper smelled musty when he flipped each one. Some pages were filled with spells while others held symbols. Only a witch needed words to chant a spell, whereas a sorcerer could use words or a vision. With a nod or a flick of his hand, he could create anything or punish anyone as long as they were in his line of sight.

  With a relieved sigh, he found what he was searching for. Memorizing the symbols, he shut the book and replaced it in the dusty bookshelves.

  "Soon, Mother, with the blood of Lady Gavenia, you will be released from death, and I will finally know the name of my father."

  He settled into an oversized chair behind the table and stared into the flame of a candle. As a boy, he had done the same thing in the tower chamber while wondering who his father was and why he did not come to liberate him. The same chamber that held Lady Gavenia, held him prisoner but with more luxuries. Everything gold could buy, he had in his room.

  Everything but freedom.

  His only link to the outside world was the small window and his servant, Evan. Evan taught him how to read and scribe, and then gave him books on the dark arts. Once a year, his mother would visit. The very sight of him pained her, but he knew not why. Tremayne figured she was curious to see how his looks fared with age. She never touched him and rarely spoke to him, except to say he was cursed. Then she would leave.

  It was not until he was eight winters, when Evan came to release him with the message that his mother was murdered by the Roberts clan and he was now Chieftain, Laird of the Campbells.

  Tremayne shuddered at the memory, of the confusion, and lack of remorse for his mother, but mostly, for the knowledge she took with her. The knowledge of his father's name and of the mysterious curse he lived under.

  His senses were jolted awake by light sobbing. He looked around his chamber, but it was empty. He rose and walked around the table and opened the door. The hallway was deserted, but the sobs continued.

  "Who is there?"

  His heart began to clench with an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. Even his stomach felt raw with emotion. But it was not his emotion. Who was sending him this energy, this ... feeling?

  Tremayne took a deep breath and shook his head, but still the sound resonated within his soul. He could not shake the feelings.

  Lifting the candle scone, he said to the flame, “Show me the wench that sends me this hex."

  A ball of green light materialized from the fire and showed a vision of Lady Gavenia crying on her bed, her hair short like a man's. “This is impossible. She canna conjure her powers without being tortured by the tether. How is it I share her feelings?"

  The emotion of despair caused havoc within his conscience. He knew what it felt like to be in that tower.

  Nae! He would not soften toward her.

  He would not!

  * * * *

  Gavenia finally fell asleep on the uncomfortable bed. Curled into a ball, she had no cover to warm her cool skin. Her dreams consisted of running from a faceless demon, but no matter how far she ran, she could not escape. Just when the demon was about to grab her, she was taken to another dream, another place of serenity.

  Her lover stood before her. With raven hair, his high cheekbones accented his square jaw line. While his muscled body was lean, he was not as tall as her father, although he towered over her. The black garb he wore gave him a sense of mystery, of danger. Gavenia smiled. She was glad he came to her this eve. She needed him. Needed to be loved by him.

  He gathered her into his arms and lay beside her, face to face.

  "My hair...” she sobbed and touched the short ends.

  "'Tis beautiful,” he said, his tender voice caressing her body like warm milk.

  He nuzzled her hair and kissed her neck. A delicious energy skimmed down her back. “I do not want to wake up,” she said, and closed her eyes.

  "Then don't."

  Suddenly, the cord around her waist unwound itself and flew to the corner of the chamber.

  "I will chase away your tears, your fears.” Her lover gently kissed her forehead and both eyelids. “You need not be lonely this eve.” He then brushed a kiss across her cheeks and nose.

  Her body became languid with wanting. His sweet breath was familiar, but she had never remembered the sense of smell in her dreams before. It mattered not. He was here and his body was exhilarating beside her. She looked into his dark eyes and ached for him to kiss her. To taste his mouth, his essence.

  She pursed her lips.

  Her handsome lover bit his lip and smiled with a glint in his eyes. Annoyingly, he lingered, and then kissed her with a hunger that belied his outward restraint.

  His tongue danced with hers in a fiery possession. He grasped her body closer to his and wrapped his leg around hers, pressing his erect member against her upper thigh.

  His clothes and her riding gown disappeared, leaving her skin naked against his. Dear Goddess, she loved this dream. Willing it to never end, she shifted on her side, positioning his manhood to rub against her sensitive flesh.

  Her head felt light, beads of sweat dripping down her face. Her body was on fire and she wanted more, more of him. He cupped her breasts and she arched into his palm. They kissed hard and touched, grabbed and melded into one another.

  Her pulse beat as wildl
y as her heart, her lungs burned for air. In frenzy, she rose to straddle him, his glorious manhood protruded between her legs. She gathered his erection and ran her hand up and down the length, enjoying the control she had over him.

  He closed his eyes and groaned. The low tone sent new spirals of desire through her. She leaned over him and covered his mouth with hers while guiding his manhood to the outside of her entrance.

  His lips brushed against hers as he spoke, “Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "Aye, I really want to do this."

  He waved his hand in front of her face and a burst of warm energy increased her ardor. Kissing him again, she pushed his tip inside her. With a gentle movement, she lowered herself until he filled all of her. Rising up, she took a deep breath. Having him inside was the most erotic feeling she had ever felt. Like having two souls merge as one in a powerful explosion of sexual energy.

  She moaned with complete surrender.

  What happened if she moved a little this way? Oh ... that felt so good.

  Circling her hips, she ground against him, exploring the exquisite sensations.

  He sat up with her in his lap and she wrapped her legs around him. Gavenia raised her eyebrows, curious to the new position.

  "I missed your lips,” he offered by way of explanation and captured her mouth once more. The taste of his tongue and the feel of his slick body rubbing against her breasts drove her senses over the peak. Her base cravings urged her to rock harder against him.

  Hurdled to a height of passion, hot blood raged through her body.

  This was it.

  This was it!

  Aye, push into me harder.

  Harder!

  He gave a low, possessive growl, male and primitive. Grasping her hips, his body jerked. Thrusting further into her, he spilled his warm seed.

  Her arms wrapped tightly around his back and she kissed his neck, tasting the delicious salt of his skin. Gavenia was glad this was just a dream, or else she would be panicking about falling with child. But she mustn't think of that now. She had her lover in her arms and never felt so feminine in all her life.

  Still holding her, he lay back with her on top of him.

  Gavenia repositioned herself to his side and he pulled her into the crook of his shoulder, resting her head upon his chest. They lay together, their breathing labored as one.

  Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss onto her palm. “Your energy is so pure. I have never felt so..."

  Energy?

  "What did you say?” Gavenia propped up on one elbow. How odd that he would talk about energy. Most people knew not of its existence.

  He frowned and rose from the bed, their clothes appearing on their bodies once more. He ran his hand distractedly through his hair and began to fade.

  "Please, do not leave."

  His image returned and he leaned down to kiss her on the lips. “I pledge to return to you every eve until you no longer wish me too."

  His silhouette faded into the darkness, leaving her feeling isolated, cold.

  The moment she rested her head on the bed, she awoke to a ray of early morning light on the opposite wall. Gavenia's hands went to her waist. The orange chain remained in place.

  Rising, she stretched her stiff muscles.

  Curse that lumpy bed.

  She used the cracked chamber pot and then stretched again. Besides her achy muscles, she felt revitalized.

  Her stomach growled in protest and she clutched her abdomen. She had not eaten in days.

  Gavenia heard several footsteps on the stairway before they arrived at her cell. The oak door pushed open to reveal three mute servants and two overgrown guards. They quickly gave her food and went about cleaning her dungeon, adding an extra chair with plush velvet lining. More servants entered with a large tub and began to pour buckets of steaming hot water.

  Gavenia was stunned. Why was she being treated like royalty? As quickly as they appeared, the servants and guards left.

  Ravenous, she ate the surprisingly delicious fare of rice potage with almond milk and sweet mince pies. Once her stomach was satisfied, she awkwardly undressed. The frustrating bind around her waist made it almost impossible to remove her emerald riding gown. Like a tight, icy girdle against her naked skin, the orange bind remained on as she sunk gratefully into the lukewarm water.

  Leaning back, she wondered when her captor would show himself again. How long was she to wait? Even with the new furnishings, her imprisoned days would be tortuous. But the evenings ... aye, the evenings would be filled with passion. Perhaps if she tried napping during the day, her lover would come all the sooner?

  She hoped he would keep to his pledge and return to her dreams.

  He must.

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  Chapter Eight

  "I pray you, please tell me where she is,” Adela pleaded.

  Goddess Triana smiled as if Adela was an errant child who wanted a wooden hobby horse. The Goddess’ flowing blue gown did not reach the floor, her face one of beauty and serenity. White hair framed her soft round face, accenting green eyes. Her spirit was one of calm while Adela's bordered on panic.

  It had been six moons since Gavenia disappeared. She thought her daughter would have been ransomed and returned by now, but each day brought with it more anxiety.

  "Do not interfere with her fate,” Goddess Triana replied with a melodic voice. “No matter how painful."

  The Goddess looked past Adela and through the window, her eyes unfocused. Adela looked behind her, but there was nothing but the view of the valley below. She turned, and the Goddess began to fade, a loving smile on her face.

  "Please, wait!” Adela cried.

  The chamber door slammed open and her husband stormed in. Oblivious, he walked right through the last vestiges of the Goddess’ image. Not being of Celtic blood, he could not see the Goddess.

  Phillip unsheathed his sword and threw it on the bed. With his fists clenched at his sides, he paced the floor of their chamber. “I have every mon scoring the countryside. I even sent a convoy to the main land, but so far all I have for my efforts is a small clearing with Gavenia's soiled clothes."

  Adela shoulders lowered and her heart clenched with hopelessness. She collapsed on the bed, tears threatening her eyes. “I told you she could not be found."

  Phillip sighed and walked over to her, opening his arms. Adela rested her head against his warm chest. The steady beat of his heart soothed her raw emotions.

  "I tried a spell to conjure a vision of her, but something or someone is blocking my magick.” Adela looked up at her husband's concerned face. “This does not bode well."

  "There has only been one person with that kind of power,” said Phillip, his eyes darkening.

  "You don't think that Lady Torella is..."

  "Alive?” Phillip finished her sentence. “Nae, it canna be possible. You killed her long ago."

  "I heard rumors of a son, but none was ever confirmed.” Her head jerked up. “Gavenia's vision."

  "Pardon?"

  "I conjured a spell to show who Gavenia's chosen one would be. The spell held a vision of a red boar with blood."

  "A red boar lies upon the Campbell crest!"

  "Dear Goddess."

  "I will storm the Campbell's fortress and find our daughter."

  "Nae, the Goddess warned me not to interfere. Yer life will be endangered if you go."

  "If a Campbell has our daughter, then it will be their lives in danger.” Phillip rose from the bed. Sheathing his sword, he bent and kissed her on the lips. “I will arrange the soldiers to return. By the eve of Samhain, my love, we will be ready to take the Campbells. Black magick or not, I will return our daughter to you."

  "I want to come."

  "Nae, it is too dangerous."

  "I want to come."

  "Your powers are weak on Samhain."

  "And so will be Gavenia's. I must come.” Adela stood up and placed a hand on his chest. “If the Goddess is rig
ht and doom will befall my family, I want to be with my husband and children."

  "I suppose if I refused, you would only follow."

  She smiled weakly and nodded.

  Sighing, Phillip kissed her lips. “We leave at dawn."

  * * * *

  His boots’ echoing upon the stone floor was the only sound Tremayne could hear while he paced the alchemy chamber. The night was still and unusually repressive for the time of year. He went to the square window slit, hoping for a cool breeze, but none was met. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall and stared outside. From the view, he could see the tower wall. Its impenetrable cold stone cradled the treasure within, the beautiful prisoner who waited for his visit into her dreams.

  His body responded to the thought of her soft skin, full lips, and her open arms, eager to bring him closer. Not just into her body, but into her heart. Lady Gavenia made love with all of her soul. A soul, heart and body Tremayne yearned to possess. He found himself staying with his beautiful prisoner long after he had made love to her. They would talk till sunrise about their lives, family, and duty. He had to be careful not to tell her who he was, yet he suspected she held something from him.

  Fear. Powerful and consuming.

  He could smell it on her as well as hear it in her voice. Something kept her from her duty of marrying, even though she was filled with guilt.

  It pleased him to hear it, even though he had no right to the thought.

  He scowled and pushed away from the wall to sit at his table of books and scrolls. He must harden himself against his emotions. His feelings—foreign as they may be, he had to remain detached, cold. For on the morrow, he must spill Lady Gavenia's blood to resurrect his mother. If it was only for the sake of knowing his father's name, then he would not bring back his mother, but it was more.

  Much more.

  His mother would return to the living and Lady Gavenia would be sacrificed. He had no other choice.

  Tremayne raised his gaze when a knock sounded. Rising, he strapped on his sword and opened the door. His steward stepped back in the hallway, his head lowered. Tremayne closed the door behind him. Evan knew better than to allow his gaze wonder inside the alchemy chamber.