Authors: Phoebe Conn
Touched by her tender concern, Egan bent down to kiss her soundly. “A king does not bow to an annoying twinge in his side,” he breathed out against her lips. “I agreed to this ridiculous demand not only to silence the fools who wouldn’t recognize a queen if she knocked upon their door, but also to speed my coronation. The instant the ceremony is complete, there will be no mistaking my power. Now cease to worry about me, and let’s be on our way.”
He continued up the trail with renewed vigor, and Oriana cared little whether it was anger or determination that had lengthened his stride; she was eager to follow. She paused frequently to glance down into the valley and was greatly relieved when the men who had been observing their progress turned back toward the fortress.
Then as she hastened to catch up with Egan, the trail he had just passed over crumbled away beneath her. Thrown off balance as she lost her footing, she clawed at the mountainside, but all around her the rock dissolved into jagged shards, and she fell into a dangerous slide.
Egan heard the trail break away, and spun in a wild lunge to grab Oriana before she tumbled all the way down the mountain. He caught only the edge of her cloak, and it pulled away along with the folded tent. He shook them off to seize hold of her flying hair and then quickly transferred his grasp to her tunic; equally frantic, she reached up and clung to his arm.
Lying flat next to the wide gap in the trail, Egan could see where the recent rain had weakened the soil and feared another hunk was about to break loose. “I’ll pull you up,” he swore, but that the woman he adored was in such grave peril made him sick clear through.
Convinced by Egan’s earnest vow, Oriana kicked against the mountain, found a toehold, and braced herself to help him. He was frowning with fierce concentration,
but in her mind, she saw only his usual cocky grin, and it did not even occur to her that she might slip from his grasp and fall to her death.
Egan grit his teeth and crawled backward on his belly. To avoid loosening more of the rocky earth, he exercised extraordinary care and moved at an agonizingly slow pace. When he finally succeeded in pulling Oriana up onto the trail, he grabbed her in a convulsive hug. Once satisfied she was safe, he sat back to assess her injuries.
The left side of her face was scraped raw, and her arms bore long, deep scratches. Several of her fingernails were torn down to the quick. Jagged holes had been ripped in her tunic and gown, but she looked so vibrantly alive that he hugged her again.
Oriana was trembling all over. “We’ve lost your mother’s cloak,” she murmured between sobs, “and my tent.”
“They can be replaced, but I promised Albyn I’d take good care of you, and look what happened.”
“It appears even the mountain disapproves of me,” Oriana whispered.
“Aye, Mount Royal has always had a restless spirit, but I love you dearly, and that’s all that matters.”
He made a quick search of the trail and was relieved to find their bag of provisions within easy reach. He pulled out the skin of ale. “Have a drink; then I want you to try and walk. I’d stop right here, but I’m afraid the ground isn’t safe.”
Oriana was surprised to find her slippers were still on her feet, but even after several sips of ale, she doubted she could stand. She looked up toward the sun and wondered how much daylight they had left. She hurt all over, but with her hands so bloody and painful, she feared she would be no help at all.
“Oh, Egan, what are we going to do?”
He kissed away her tears. “That magnificent hawk showed me the way to fly this morning. Do you think Lugh might return to help us build a snug cottage?”
Oriana leaned away from him. “Lugh appears whenever he wishes. My mother and I never summoned him. Although, I will admit to hoping that should the need be dire, he might come to my aid.”
She looked as though she had been badly beaten, and Egan took care to aim his kiss toward her lips. “This might well be that time, my love.”
A fresh wave of tears flooded Oriana’s eyes. “But if he didn’t appear,” she struggled to confess, “I’d fear I wasn’t truly his daughter.”
Egan had not meant to call her heritage into question. “Of course you’re his child. Anyone who looks into your remarkable golden eyes can see you’re no ordinary woman. Now, let’s not worry about Lugh yet. Let’s just try to move a little farther on up the trail.”
Oriana was reluctant to let go of him even to allow him to stand, but neither did she want to remain perched beside a break in the trail and risk another disastrous fall. “How will we get back down the trail in the morning?” she asked.
Egan wished they had thought to bring a rope. If they had not lost the tent, he could have cut it into strips and braided one, but the tent had slid out of sight. “I mean to cut sturdy branches for our shelter. Tomorrow, I’ll cut a few more and build a bridge here. Now let me help you rise.”
The trail was wide enough for Oriana to walk beside him, but she was so badly shaken, she was unable to stand on her own. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but Egan slid his arms around her waist and gently pulled her to her feet. He then kept her clasped firmly against his side.
As they rounded the next bend, the path widened, and the branches of a stately oak grew up over the trail. Egan did not recall seeing the tree that morning, but he was even more astonished by the large hawk perched in the upper branches.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Look who’s come to our rescue.”
They had never been this close to the splendid hawk, and the bird stared back at them with equal curiosity. Egan recognized Lugh’s voice, and it was no longer an accusing whisper. “This fine tree is a gift,” Egan murmered under his breath. “We ought to thank him for it.”
The hawk was so very beautiful, Oriana found it nearly impossible to think at all. “Thank you for all your many gifts, Lugh,” she finally found the presence of mind to say.
In response, the hawk dipped his head slightly toward Egan.
“Why, Egan,” Oriana exclaimed. “You’re also one of his gifts.”
“Nay,” Egan argued. “You are the most remarkable gift any man has ever received.”
Apparently pleased with Egan’s remark, the hawk spread his wings in a graceful arc, left the oak to soar toward the sun, and swiftly vanished from sight.
Egan hated to destroy the mood of rapt wonder, but he could not keep still. “I swear to you this tree wasn’t here this morning, but its placed so perfectly against the mountain that we could climb into the branches and spend a restful night.”
Oriana swayed against him. “Aren’t we expected to do more than sleep in a tree?”
“Aye, that we are, but I want you to sit down and rest while I think how best to use this beautiful tree in our construction.”
Oriana was happy to comply with his request, but even with her back resting against the mountain, she was in agonizing pain. Even her scalp hurt where Egan had caught her, and her gratitude failed to ease the pain.
Firmly rooted, the oak grew out of the rocky soil, and Egan was quickly satisfied it was there to stay. “What if I create a platform over the lower branches to give us a floor, and then slant a roof over the branches in the center of the tree. Does that sound good to you?”
“It’s a splendid idea, as I’m certain all your plans must surely be.”
Egan broke into a loud guffaw. “Did you strike your head as you fell?”
“No, I’m simply striving to be an agreeable wife.” Oriana’s smile swiftly turned mischievous.
Egan laughed with her but started to work on fashioning a secure shelter. His side no longer bothered him, and he chopped through the oak’s sturdy branches with a methodical rhythm. As their shelter took shape, he began to look forward to passing the night there with the woman who made all his days and nights memorable.
Albyn kept his gaze focused upon the mountain until the sun’s last rays were swallowed by the sea. The guards had already lit their lanterns, and he moved aside so he could sit in full view of the gate. He had not thought he was hungry until Kieran brought him a platter heaped with roasted boar and warm bread.
Kieran sat down beside Albyn and began to devour the meat on his own platter with undisguised gusto. “I don’t want you falling asleep tonight, Druid, for should Egan suffer any misfortune, I mean to call upon you to vouch for my innocence.”
In the muted light, Kieran resembled Egan so closely that Albyn had to remind himself to remain guarded. “I welcome the food, if not your company, but I wish you’d brought some ale.”
Kieran immediately sent one of the guards to fetch them some, and the fellow returned with a pitcher and two tankards. “Anything else you’d like? I can highly recommend Fiona’s company.”
Albyn could only vaguely recall which woman she was. “No, I’d not want the unfortunate lass to become dissatisfied with you.”
Rather than take offense, Kieran was highly amused by Albyn’s attempt at humor, and he paused before taking another bite. “You should try Egan’s wing. Even dangling briefly from mine has changed my whole view of the world.”
Albyn shot him a skeptical glance. “Have you come to regret the attempt on your brother’s life?”
Kieran shrugged. “I still believe I’d make the better king.”
“Then pursue a crown elsewhere,” Albyn advised before breaking off a bite of bread. “The day of Egan’s coronation, I mean to set out on my own journey. You’d be wise to travel farther than a wing could take you.”
Kieran continued to eat until he had satisfied his appetite. He then set his platter aside and took a long drink of ale. “I’m too curious about how the morrow will end to begin making plans tonight.”
“It will end with Egan king of the Dál Cais, with Oriana by his side.”
“She is a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Kieran admitted under his breath.
Albyn did not trust himself to respond with more than a distracted nod, but he still suspected Kieran meant to do Egan grievous harm and intended to keep him in sight.
It was very late when Garrick made his way to Ula’s chamber, and the wind was howling down off Mount Royal and fluttered the tapestries lining the corridors. The diminutive beauty had left the feast early, and the Druid had delayed his arrival to make certain she would be thoroughly bored and eager to welcome him. Unfortunately, she was pacing her chamber and gestured with a wine goblet as he entered.
“Cadell never loved me. Oh, he took his pleasure with me, and often, but all the while he closed his eyes and pretended that I was Adelaine.”
Garrick removed the goblet from her hand and set it aside. He bent to whisper in her ear. “I never pretend with you.”
Ula continued to pace as though he had not spoken. “To Cadell, I was never as beautiful as Adelaine, never as charming, never as wise. I was merely the woman in his bed, never the woman in his heart. She was alive to him
every minute we were wed. I was nothing more than a flickering lamp compared to the brilliance of Adelaine’s fire. Kieran is twice the man Egan will ever be, but Cadell never once thanked me for giving him such a fine son.”
Disgusted she would brush aside his affection, Garrick sat down upon the end of her bed, but though he was accustomed to her vindictive tirades, he had little patience tonight.
Ula’s dark eyes glowed with a malevolent light as she turned toward him. “Cadell truly deserved to die, didn’t he?”
If not high regard, Garrick and Cadell had shared mutual respect, and he had been as shocked by the king’s untimely death as the rest of his household. Ula’s grief had been profound, or so it had appeared when she had sought refuge in his arms.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Ula cocked her head slightly. “Why do you look so perplexed? Last year, when I asked you for poison to rid my chamber of vermin, did you actually believe I meant to use it solely on mice?”
Ula had always been prone to violent fits of temper, but he had never even imagined that she might kill her husband. He rose to his feet and struggled to understand what had actually happened. “Were all who fell ill victims of the poison?” he asked.
Ula stepped toward him with a slow, seductive sway. “No, I merely took advantage of an illness that arrived unbidden on its own. Aren’t you proud of me, Garrick? The wind has a piercing shriek tonight, and by dawn, Egan and his whore will surely be dead. Then Kieran will be king. He’ll follow your guidance as Cadell never did. Isn’t that what you’ve craved all along?”
Her fluttering touch was now revolting, and he grabbed her hands before she could begin to stroke his chest. Her expression had turned petulant, as though she had expected softly voiced praise rather than the horror her confession had inspired. She had never had a
placid disposition, but he had not realized until that very instant that she was completely mad.
Perhaps she always had been. He had been a fool to use her supple body and overlook the fury of her endless hatreds. He was her closest adviser, and if it were ever learned that he had supplied the poison, no one would believe that he had not ordered her to kill Cadell. She had trapped him in her wretched plot and it took every bit of his considerable self-restraint not to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until he had choked off her last breath.
It was only the fervent hope that Egan would not survive a night on Mount Royal that kept him calm enough to step away from her. “We’ll not speak of this again,” he vowed. “We must rise early, and I want you to sleep so that you’ll look your loveliest at dawn.”
He stepped around her and left before she could argue that neither of them needed to sleep alone, but he barely made it to his own chamber before he began to retch. It had begun to rain, and he took comfort in the threat to Egan’s life while he strove to salvage his own.
As soon as Egan pronounced their hastily constructed shelter complete, he led Oriana inside and pulled her down upon his lap. He fed her tasty bites of cheese and bread, and encouraged her to sip ale until she grew sleepy. But she slept only fitfully and cuddled closer.
“You are the best of champions,” she insisted between muffled yawns. She savored the soothing rhythm of Egan’s heartbeat beneath her ear, but she gradually became aware of another softly insistent sound.
“Has it begun to rain?” she asked.
“Aye, the raindrops are splattering against the topmost leaves, but the thickness of the branches and my cloak should keep us dry.”
A flash of lightning scorched the sky, and a raucous clap of thunder rattled the whole tree. The wind rose in a mournful wail, but enclosed in a leafy cocoon, they remained perfectly dry.
Egan still could not shake a disquieting sense of foreboding. Whenever Oriana murmured his name in a sleepy drawl, he hugged her and encouraged her to rest peacefully, while his own anxiety grew increasingly acute.
He pressed Oriana’s head to his shoulder, and his wrist brushed against the necklace of wooden beads she
had slipped beneath her gown. He was sorry he had not thought to carve one for her with the same ambitious devotion his father had shown his mother. Of course, they had had no formal courtship during which he could have showered Oriana with thoughtful gifts.
“The wind has such an evil howl,” she whispered, “but surely no one has followed us up the mountain.”
She brushed her fingertips over the stubble peppering her husband’s cheek. “I had longed to return to the forest with you. Let’s cherish the night. Make love to me.”
Egan thought surely the brutal wind had twisted her words into what he longed to hear. “I could not have understood you,” he complained softly.
Oriana slid her hand over his shoulder. His muscles were knotted with tension, and she began to knead his flesh with a smooth, circular touch. “You understood me perfectly, and somehow, I doubt that you have refused many women.”
Egan smothered his laughter in her tangled curls. “Nay, you’re badly mistaken, for I have very discerning tastes. I’ve not slept with every comely lass who’s sent me an inviting glance.”
“It’s much too dark for you to appreciate just how enticing my glance is.” Oriana skipped her hand down his chest, over the flatness of his belly, then between his legs to cup him gently in her palm. “You should be able to feel this though,” she insisted.
There was a sturdy branch at Egan’s back, and without a moments hesitation, he relaxed against it. He caught Oriana’s wrist and pressed her hand along the length of his hardening shaft.
“In this hasty shelter, we’ll have to take care,” he warned.
“I have always taken care with you.” She slipped her hand from beneath his to loosen his belt and free him from his woolen pants. His sex sprang warm and heavy in her hands, and he responded to an easy downward tug with a grateful moan.
Oriana slid from his lap so she could bend to swirl her tongue over the tip of his manhood. When Egan arched his back and grabbed her hair, she hesitated to give him another such intimate kiss.
He drew in a ragged breath. “You mustn’t stop.”
Pleased to affect him so strongly, Oriana tasted him again, then drew him deep into her mouth. She felt tremors of desire shoot through his belly and quiver down his thighs. His grateful response encouraged further devotion, and following his generous example, she braced herself against his knee to give still more. She traced featherlight circles with her fingertips over his sack, and wished she could see as well as feel his flesh tighten.
She could have explored his masculine strength endlessly, but he could stand only so much of her affectionate torture before he had to grab her waist and yank her across his lap. She welcomed him into her depths, but he quickly raised her up, and then eased her back down onto his shaft to create a teasing torment of his own.
Oriana laced her fingers in his hair to savor his hungry kisses. He held her tightly, but she twisted and rocked back and forth to caress his whole body with her own. Overwhelmed by desire, she rode their shared passion to another shattering surrender. The faint pounding of the rain echoed her heartbeat and gradually slowed to a blissful lullaby.
Oriana awoke when the first rosy glimmer of dawn seeped through their leafy curtains. Egan was still asleep, and she traced the gentle curve of his ear with her thumb. When he opened his eyes and smiled, she leaned close to kiss him.
“You are going to be a great king and much loved by your people,” she swore convincingly.
“Our people,” Egan corrected, then, struck by the improvement in her appearance, he straightened. “Your bruises are gone. Let me see your hands.”
Oriana wiggled her fingers. While her nails were short, they were no longer painfully torn. The deep scratches on her palms and arms had healed and left only faint scars. Even her clothes, while slightly wrinkled, were no longer ripped and mud-stained.
“It appears we’ve spent the night in an enchanted tree,” she murmured.
“The only magic is in you,” Egan assured her. “I’ll remember last night forever.”
Oriana raised her hand to caress his cheek, and he placed a light kiss in her palm. “I treasure all my memories of you,” she confided wistfully.
Egan had no chance to create more loving memories before they heard Albyn calling his name. Disgusted to be so rudely yanked into the day, he raked his hair from his eyes. “Damn. He sounds frantic. What could have happened now?”
“I dare not even speculate,” Oriana replied.
Egan kissed her soundly, and after adjusting his clothing, he crawled by her to exit their shelter without bumping his head.
He relieved himself against the mountainside, then stretched to shake off the night. As Albyn came running into view, Egan complained loudly, “Hush. You’ve awakened every bird on the mountain.”
Albyn slid to a startled halt, his mouth agape. “At first light, Garrick sent Druids out to the sacred grove to prepare for your ceremony. They were dismayed to find a deep hole where one of the ancient oaks had stood, but I swear, it’s growing right here.”
“It would appear so.” Egan had been mystified by the sudden appearance of the tree on the mountain, but it had been such a welcome sight, he had given no thought to its original location.
“But how did you move it?” Albyn reached out to touch the closest branch and found it solid wood rather than mere illusion. “Did Oriana do this?”
“No. The tree was simply here when we rounded the
bend in the trail, but I’ll be grateful if you’ll tell all who’ll listen that the gods sent it to bless our marriage. Now if you’ve come all the way up here to wake us, you’ve succeeded. How did you cross the break in the trail?”
“I cut a sapling to form a narrow bridge. We might have to add to it for Oriana.”
Oriana peered out of the tree, and finding the men engaged in a pleasant conversation, she joined them. “I hope you weren’t worried, Albyn. As you can see, Egan and I passed a remarkably safe night.”
“In a sacred oak it appears,” Egan added. “Give me a moment to change my tunic, and we’ll be on our way.”
Albyn again reached out to caress the oak as though it were a sacred talisman. “You may not be so anxious to leave here when you learn Duncan O Floinn arrived with the dawn. He could not have come to witness your coronation ceremony either.”
Oriana flinched at Duncan’s name, for surely he planned to denounce her and battle Egan. Badly shaken, she reached out for the solidity of the mountainside to steady her.
“Why does nothing run smoothly for us?” she moaned.
Egan winked at her. “One thing does, and when we are so finely matched a pair in that regard, nothing else matters.”
She was in no mood to jest. “Though Albyn has proven his loyalty, what you have always failed to understand is that I am a threat to all other Druids. I can actually see into the future, and they can only pretend.”
Egan shot Albyn a dark glance. “Would Garrick harm her?”
Albyn nodded. “To aid Kieran as much as to protect himself, yes, he would.”
Egan reached for Oriana’s hand. “If you feared this all along, why did you follow me into the fortress the day I sent you away?”
She had known he would need her, but there was a far
more compelling reason. “Even in the fog, I recognized my path.”
“But I thought you couldn’t tell your own fortune.”
“I can’t, but you’d already touched my heart.” When he gave a welcoming tug, she stepped into his arms.
Egan looked over her head to Albyn. “When Lugh uproots trees to shelter us, Garrick won’t dare harm us. Now, if I’d killed Duncan as you’d wished, nay, demanded, then he’d not be alive to menace us now. Clearly you were right and I was wrong; just do not remind me of it in front of my kin.”
“I won’t, but if your people still won’t accept me as queen, you’ll have to let me go.”
Egan pushed her back a step. “The bond between us is far too strong for me to rule without you. You must feel the same powerful link.”
“Yes, I won’t lie to you,” she promised.
“Good. Albyn, look after my beloved while I gather up our belongings.”
“It will be my pleasure,” Albyn assured them both, but when he extended a steadying hand, Oriana shied away from him.
Egan entered their shelter for a moment, then returned to the trail to remove his cloak and yank off his tunic. He had grown accustomed to the tight pull of his stitches, but as he removed a clean tunic from Oriana’s travel bag, a piece of black thread floated across his hand. Believing a stitch must have come loose on its own, he paused to glance down at his side.
Amazed to find the ugly black trail gone, he turned to Albyn. “Did you intend for the stitches to fall out on their own?”
“I’ve not sewn up that many men, but no.” Albyn stepped around Oriana to take a closer look at Egan’s side and found that only a faint white line crossed his ribs.
“Once Duncan learns a tree moved from our sacred grove and how quickly your wounds heal, he’ll not still possess the courage to fight you. Now, even if you won’t
share the spell for moving trees, you must at least tell me how you healed so rapidly.”
Recalling Oriana’s sensuous kisses, Egan ran his thumb down his side. Had he not keenly felt the bloody gash when Kieran slashed him, he would not accept another’s word that he had been cut. “I credit the enchanted oak for the healing, but the tree hasn’t revealed its secrets. Now, let’s be on our way while good luck still surrounds us.”
Oriana waited for Egan to pull a clean tunic over his head and repin his cloak, and then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. When she stepped back, her golden eyes burned with a fiery light.
“If you must fight Duncan, give me a sword, and I’ll fight with you.”
“In all my travels, I’ve heard no tales of such remarkable bravery in a woman,” Albyn murmured in awe.
Egan gripped Oriana’s waist lightly. “I’ve at least a dozen men who can be counted upon to be your equal with a sword, and I’ll not feel abandoned if you are secure in my chamber.”
“Do not laugh at me,” Oriana warned darkly.
“Aye, you would be worth a dozen men, but I need you to be a loving wife rather than a mighty warrior.”
Albyn watched Egan enfold Oriana in such a tender embrace, she swiftly ceased any effort to resist and leaned into him. They swayed in each other’s arms, and embarrassed to witness such an intimate exchange, the Druid had to turn away.
No woman had ever clung to him with Oriana’s fierce protectiveness, and overwhelmed with longing, he forced a cough to remind his friends of his presence. “Give me whatever must be carried,” he quickly offered, “and I’ll lead the way down to make certain the trail is safe after last night’s rain.”
Egan gave his bride a last hug, then stooped to retrieve the bags of provisions and clothing. “Don’t change your gown. That one, while subdued in color, will remind
everyone where you spent the night, and their sympathy will be with you.”
That was a small enough request to grant, and Oriana complied with a slight nod, but she had not agreed to seek refuge in his chamber while he faced a deadly foe. “Does this not strike you as an odd time for Duncan to attack?”
Egan swung their travel bags to Albyn, then gestured for Oriana to follow his friend down the trail, but he remained close enough to grab her should she slip on the rocky path.
“As the beginning of a new year, Samhain is the time to make new alliances and end old hostilities. What was Duncan’s mood, Albyn? Could he have come to make peace?”
Albyn kept a watchful eye on the muddy trail as he replied. “He and his men are heavily armed, and if he has come bearing gifts, then they must be small enough to fit in a tiny pouch.”
Oriana turned back toward her husband. “I’ve predicted Duncan’s fate accurately in the past. It would behoove you to keep me close so that I may do so again. If he intends to play some foul trick, then I’ll provide a swift warning.”
Egan paused in midstride. “You are too precious to risk, and I’ll not subject you to the slightest danger for a timely warning. I already know Duncan despises us, and that will be enough to keep me on guard. Now watch the trail, my beauty, and let me worry about Duncan.”
Although unconvinced, Oriana did at least keep a close eye on the trail, and confident Albyn’s newly constructed bridge would hold, she crossed it without breaking her stride. But the speed of their progress down the mountain failed to ease her mind.
“I was the one Duncan meant to kill,” she reminded her husband.
“Aye, that he did, but I have his word that he’ll praise
your name. If he breaks it, then he’ll be dead before his lies reach another man’s ears.”
“He may have already confided in Garrick,” Oriana warned.
“I did not see Garrick anywhere about, my lady,” Albyn called over his shoulder, “and the men left to guard Duncan will not honor the request should he ask for him.”
As they reached the horses, Egan plucked Oriana off her feet and swung her up onto her white mare’s back. “The morning will be over swiftly, and then no one will doubt that we are king and queen,” he whispered. He then turned to greet his kinsmen, who had come to see how they had fared.