Knight of Pentacles (Knights of the Tarot Book 3) (31 page)

She pulled off the main road and followed a dirt path for some ways before parking the car behind a boulder.

Before climbing out, he retrieved his bow and arrow from behind the seat and handed them to her. “Take these with you inside. I am going to hide the car from overflying creatures before joining you.”

Once she’d left him, he gathered up all the branches he could find and arranged them over the car in a way that would look like a lean-to from the air. He worked hurriedly, not wishing to be away from her a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

He had meant it when he called her a shieldmaiden. What she’d done for him tonight took incredible courage, and he wanted to show his gratitude. He just hoped she had no reservations about making love in her present condition. His centuries in Avalon had removed any concerns he might once have had about sex during pregnancy. Many were the times he had bedded Morgan when she was ready to burst—with no greater consequence than the onset of labor, which was no doubt her goal when she summoned him.

With a snort, he flung the thought of Morgan away. He was free of her now. Free to live his own life and bed only the woman he chose. And he chose Jenna, his perfect partner.

He went into the cottage. To say it was humbler than the one abutting the glen would be a gross understatement. The floor was dirt, the windows were broken, and the roof was falling in. She’d made a bed of blankets in one corner and had lit several candles, but not the fireplace.

Shivering from the cold, he met her gaze. She was perched on the hearth, the only place to sit apart from the floor, wearing the green cloak she’d brought to the glen. His heart swelled with affection. She was the bonniest and most wonderful lass in all nine worlds, and she was his. His handfasted wife and the mother of his child. He had no idea what dangers tomorrow might bring, but for tonight, at least, they were relatively safe and could enjoy their reunion.

Standing, she let the cape fall. To his delight, she wore nothing underneath. While moistening his lips, his gaze swept from her tempting breasts to the alluring auburn triangle between her legs. Eager to touch, he went to her, took the fullness of her breasts in his hands, and bent to kiss her nipples. As he coaxed them into peaks with his lips and tongue, she ran her fingers through his hair.

Moving one hand down her body, he pushed his fingers between her legs, parted her lips, and located her hot button. As he flicked and teased, she sighed and pressed her sex harder against his finger.

“Would you like me to kiss you down here?” He rubbed his finger against the spot he meant. “Or do you find the idea distasteful?”

“I only find it distasteful because I haven’t bathed in a week.”

He laughed. “In my day, women bathed but rarely. And I never found their flavor unpleasant.”

“Axel, I know it sounds terribly silly of me, given how long you’ve been alive, but I’d really rather not hear about your other partners.”

Tickled by her jealousy, he straightened up, took her face between her hands, and brushed back her hair. “They meant nothing to me—and you mean everything.”

“You mean everything to me, too.”

While her words were tender, her gaze radiated heat. Pulling her face to his, he captured her mouth. As he gave her his tongue, he slid a hand down her body and into her dewy curls. He pushed two fingers into her, delighting in her succulent warmth. As their mouths engaged in a sensual dance, he worked his fingers in, out, and around.

She pushed her hand inside his trews, wrapped her fingers around his rigid shaft, and pumped gently. When her thumb glanced across the weeping dome, he groaned his endorsement into her mouth.

Withdrawing his fingers from her sex, he moved his hands around to her bottom, lifted her up, and carried her to the pile of blankets. After laying her down, he pushed up on all fours. “Your white knight loves you, Jenna. Thank you for saving me from the black queen.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You are my lady and my defender.” He kissed her softly. “And I shall be forever grateful to you for your bravery.”

“Does that mean you’ll do anything I ask?”

“You need only name the deed and it shall be done.”

The look she gave him was utterly enchanting. “Take off your clothes.”

“Your wish is my command, m’lady.”

Rising up on his knees, he removed the gun from his belt and set it beside the pillow. Then, he removed the belt and his tunic. Getting the trews off was a wee bit trickier, but he managed the task without too many contortions.

Once he was as naked as she was, he crawled over her and planted a trail of kisses from her chin to the top of her pubic hair. Then, he pushed her legs apart with his shoulders, parted her nether lips with his fingers, and set upon her with his lips and tongue.

As he licked and suckled, he fingered her sheath until she was squirming and moaning in desperation. Not quite ready to push her over the edge, he sat back on his haunches. Candlelight danced in her lovely eyes, which were glassy with pleasure. The flush of passion tinting her face pleased him immensely, but not as much as being inside her would.

With both hands, he reached out to her. When she clasped them, he pulled her up, saying, “Come here and sit on me.”

She positioned herself over him, set her hands on his shoulders, and lowered herself onto his erection.

He shuddered under the thrill of her enveloping heat. “Holy Valhalla, you feel good.”

“So do you.”

Pressing one hand between them, he fingered her bud as he drove into her with deep, upward thrusts, like the tide rising to meet the moon.

She welcomed him, flexing her hips to invite more of him. Locking her fingers behind his head, she pulled his mouth against hers. Her tongue slipped past his lips, soft as moonbeams. He thrust harder, deeper. She pulled his hair and bit his lip.

When she squeezed him with her sheath, intense pleasure flooded his groin. She circled her hips, pushing him to the edge of orgasm. He drove into her until her sex shattered around his in tiny, thrilling convulsions. Holding her tight, he found his own release in a violent burst of ecstasy.

As they clung to each other, the drums of their hearts beat out a duet. If he could stay like this forever, he would—safe and happy with his lady fair wrapped in his arms.

Unfortunately, that was impossible. They needed to get to Brocaliande before the vampire owls discovered their whereabouts.

* * * *

In the hours Jenna had lain awake, the owls had made several passes over the crofter’s cottage. Tired as she was, she couldn’t bear to miss a single moment with Axel. He was still asleep beside her, curled on his side under the covers, looking incredibly sexy with his hair falling across one powerful bare shoulder.

While she’d like nothing better than to make love to him again, there probably wasn’t time. Judging by the light streaming through the broken windows, it was almost noon. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try.

Pushing up on her elbow, she leaned over and kissed his cheek, lingering longer than was strictly necessary. His beard smelled ripely of both their bodies.

His eyes opened and found hers. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“It’s almost noon.” Nestling into the warmth of his body, she reached between his legs, delighted to find him hard. “Do we have time for another go?”

“I wish we did.” He squinted against the daylight. “But we will miss the ferry boat if we delay any longer.”

“We’re taking the ferry? Wouldn’t it be quicker to fly? You could turn into a dragon again—or some other winged creature—and carry me on your back over the strait to Lewis.”

His expression soured. “And attract scads of unwanted attention in the process. The vampires are much more apt to overlook your car, which at least blends in here, than they would be to miss a dragon or other winged creature.”

Dread punched Jenna in the stomach. Rubbing her arms, she glanced around. “What do you think they’ll do if they find us?”

He visibly shuddered, which only amplified her anxiety. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not think about it.”

She’d rather not, too. Since the night of the tithe was now behind them, there was nothing to stop Morgan from killing them outright. Or worse, torturing them. She wrung her hands. Clearly, Axel knew things he hadn’t confessed, in spite of whatever magical or physical methods were employed to extract the information.

Shaky and lightheaded, she put her arm around his shoulder and pressed her face against his chest. “You poor baby. I can only imagine what horrors you were made to suffer at that evil bitch’s hands.”

“It was at the Duke of Cumberland’s hands, to be accurate,” he said near her ear. “Though I have no doubt he was acting on her orders.”

Withdrawing, she eagerly sought his gaze. “Who is the Duke of Cumberland?”

“You may know him by his nickname—Butcher Cumberland.”

The name sent a chill through Jenna, who’d learned of the duke’s cruel exploits in her history lectures at university. She swallowed hard. “And he’s in Avalon now?”

“Aye.” The corners of Axel’s mouth drew down and his shoulders noticeably sagged. “As commander of the queen’s army of mercenaries. Apparently, he made arrangements with the Emperor of Sangpagne to turn him vampire upon his death.”

She was staggered by the knowledge that Butcher Cumberland not only still lived and breathed, but also had gotten his sadistic hooks into Axel in Avalon. “Oh, Axel.” She hugged him again with tears in her eyes. “You poor, dear man. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He pulled away. “I want to get to Callanish before his owls figure out where we’re going. Because the thought of him getting anywhere near you—” He paused and shut his eyes as if he couldn’t bear the thought. “Well, never mind that. I just pray to the gods it never happens.”

Goosebumps broke out across Jenna’s flesh as she threw back the blanket—and not simply because the room was cold. She got up, dressed quickly, and gathered the few things she’d brought with her.

Axel did the same and, when both of them were ready, they left the cottage, uncovered the car, and set off toward the ferry crossing in Ullapool.

* * * *

With a mountain of dread pressing down on him, Axel searched the sky from the passenger seat of Jenna’s tiny automobile. There was no sign of the owls, thank the gods, but their absence was unlikely to be of a long duration.

Beside him, Jenna turned a knob on the car’s gadget panel and, to his astonishment, music poured out of a mesh box on the door. More of her magic, no doubt. Smiling, he stroked her leg. He had sensed the power inside her when they first met, and his intuition had not been wrong. Neither had he been mistaken about her courage. She simply lacked confidence in herself, which she’d somehow acquired in his absence.

That she had discovered her worth pleased him. She would need all her resources for what lay ahead. He had yet to tell her about his plans to join the rebellion and was unsure if doing so was a good idea. Not until they reached Callanish, leastwise. Though he would never deliberately deceive her, timing the delivery of an unwelcome truth could sometimes spare a man considerable grief.

Besides, she might surprise him and wish to join the rebellion, too. No shieldmaiden worth her salt would let something as trivial as being with child banish her to the sidelines.

Freydis Eiriksottir, the sister of Leif Erikson, certainly had not. When she was in Vinland, she took up a sword and, bare-breasted and eight months with child, drove off the attacking Red Skins—as the native Greenlanders were then known—when none of her male companions would.

Perhaps he ought to tell Jenna the story of Freydis, so she would understand her options without him having to explain. Then again, perhaps Freydis was too extreme an example. If he told Jenna the story, she might presume he condoned all of the shieldmaiden’s behaviors, which he absolutely did not. While Freydis’ boldness was admirable, her shrewishness and scheming were not.

Stroking his beard, he gazed at the sky, which was gloomy and overcast. They’d been on the road for at least two hours and there was still no sign of the owls.

Rather than relieving, he found this troubling. The vampires might be waiting for them at the stone circle, knowing it was the only place to enter Brocaliande from this side of the vale. He just prayed the weapons he brought along would prove enough to fend them off—and that Bran had remembered to bury the nawglen as agreed.

With worry gnawing at his gut, Axel searched his mind for a distraction. Finding one quickly, he turned to Jenna. “What sex do you think the child will be?”

She smiled and flicked a glance his way. “What sex were the children you fathered with Morgan?”

“Lasses, mostly. And thank the gods for that or I would have seen even more of my offspring slaughtered. But what does that matter?”

“The sex of a child is determined by the father’s sperm.”

Her declaration stunned him. All these centuries, he had believed Morgan’s punishment of the knights who fathered sons was utterly baseless and irrational. “How do you know this?”

“It’s a proven scientific fact.”

“So,” he said, swallowing his discomfort, “the chances are good I’ve fathered another daughter?”