The Warrior Trainer (35 page)

   Scotia felt as if she teetered on the brink of oblivion, filled with sensations too intense to bear in silence. She could hear breathless cries of pleasure she knew must be hers, but she could no more control them than the mounting waves of honeyed fire that tightened her muscles and arched her back.

   Heat spiraled inside her, growing stronger and stronger, until all sensation shattered around her, propelling her into the awaiting abyss. A groan escaped Ian. She held on to him, pulling him with her over the edge of forever.

   Every inch of her body, every fiber of her being filled with a warmth and pleasure she never dreamed possible. In his arms she felt not only safe and protected, but also cherished and consumed. Nothing had ever seemed more natural than having Ian within her, having his hands caress her body, having his lips upon her own.

   Careful not to separate their bodies, he pulled her alongside him, resting his chin at the top of her head. "Rest for a while. You will need it. We have waited too long to reach this place for me to leave before we are both fully sated."

   His hand came up to feather the lightest caress across her belly. "Do you believe it’s possible that I have given you a child already
?”

   Scotia's swirling senses halted with a sickening plummet. Passion gave way to the reality. A child. It was what she had wanted. It was her obligation to provide the next female Warrior Trainer.

   Yet now, in the shelter of Ian arms, she realized that she wanted more than that from him. Not only did she want him to father her child, she wanted him to love her. Closing her eyes, Scotia struggled to control her frayed emotions. He had failed to speak those endearing words of love to her. Was she so unlovable? Her mother had always made her feel that way.

   "Let me up," she whispered.

   "What is wrong?" Ian shifted her in his arms until he faced her, breaking their intimate connection. A surge of tenderness swept across his features. "The first time is always painful. The next will not be that way. I promise."

   How could she endure the glory and splendor of their lovemaking again, knowing it would fulfill her passions but never bond them as a man and a woman should be? "Ian, I—"

   A knock sounded on the door and the moment dissolved between them. "Scotia. Ian." The voice was that of Burke's. "I'm certain ye'll have my hide for the interruption but the scouts are just now returned with urgent news about the Horsemen. 'Tis important."

   A look of regret passed across Ian's face before he turned away from her to grab his shirt. They dressed in a silence that no longer felt intimate, only charged with the tension of their unfinished conversation and the possible threat of attack. When his shirt and plaid were back in place, Ian brought his gaze to hers. He waited while she fastened her sword at her side. "Ready?"

   She nodded, and he opened the door.

   "What do you have to report?" Scotia asked.

   The torch Burke held in his hand illuminated the doorway and spilled a yellow-gold glow into the room. Scotia knew the moment she saw the overly bright look in his aged eyes that something had happened. Burke sent a skittering glance at Ian before looking away. "One of the scouting parties has returned." He hesitated.

   "Go on," Scotia encouraged. "What has happened?"

   "The scouting party encountered the White and Red Horsemen and their army as they came up from the south. Only two of the six men are still alive."

   A dark shiver passed through Scotia. The battle had begun. "Where are the men?"

   "Being tended to by the village healer. They were both badly injured."

   Scotia nodded and took a step toward the door. "I shall go to them."

   Ian followed by her side. "I am with you."

   Burke held up his hand, stalling their movements. "There is more." Again, he shot a furtive glance at Ian. "Another scouting party reports that the Green Horseman is dead, that the Black Horseman has turned back toward Scotia's castle, and the Black Horseman has a prisoner with him. The scouts say he is still alive but tied to a scratch plow and badly beaten."

  
Ian's body tensed. "Who is this man?"

  
A muscle moved spasmodically in Burke's throat. "Griffin."

Chapter Twenty-eight

   Griffin grimaced as he struggled against the bindings at his wrists. The rope did not give. Instead, the motion pulled the oxen's yoke that circled his neck and the scratch plow that dragged behind him in the ground deeper into his shoulders.

   "How does it feel to be a beast of burden the Black Horseman taunted from atop his horse as he prompted Griffin, bearing the weight of the plow along in the darkness, back toward Scotia's castle.

   Griffin stopped walking. "Why don't you just give me a sword so we can settle this like men?"

   The Black Horseman reined his horse to a stop. "Why? So you can kill me the way you killed the Green Horseman?" The Black Horseman kicked out, connecting with Griffin's face.

   Sticky warmth flowed from his nose and over his lips as pain exploded in his head. Only the plow at his back kept him standing as it caught his weight by jamming into his back. The plow skidded against the ground, leaving a thick groove in the dirt. He spat the blood away from his lips.

   A sharp bite of laughter punctuated the air. "You might have managed to stop us from killin' your clan, but you'll be the one to pay for their survival."

   The Black Horseman raised the lash he carried. "Now, my beastly warrior, keep movin'!"

   Griffin looked to his left, then his right. All around him the Horseman's army watched with derisive triumph gleaming in their eyes. Griffin straightened his body as best as he could. "Nay. I am not going anywhere. If you wish to kill me, do it here."

   "I don't wish to kill you. We need you as bait. Cooperative bait." The lash came down, over and over, until Griffin could not help but gasp at the pain.

   The lash stopped.

   "Now keep walking," the Black Horseman commanded.

   Unable to do anything more, Griffin shuffled forward.

   The Black Horseman spurred his horse into a walk beside Griffin. "We must go to the White Horseman. He will be interested in the news you shared, with us."

   Griffin gasped for breath as he staggered forward. He had shared nothing about Scotia, the Stone of Destiny, or Glencarron Castle. His own father had offered the information in order to spare Griffin's life. Griffin's unschooled reaction to his father's betrayal had only proven Abbus MacKinnon's claim.

   Griffin's breathing grew painful when he thought of what his father had done. Why save him, only to betray Ian and Scotia? It made no sense. The moist night air felt good on Griffin's face, and he breathed deeply, hoping the air would act as a salve to his lacerated chest as they continued to push through the darkness.

   Soon the rhythm of his feet drowned out all thought, all feeling, as he followed the Black Horseman. What seemed a lifetime later, Griffin looked up to see Glencarron Castle beneath the soft glow of the moon's light. A surge of anticipation awakened the warrior sleeping inside him. The battle would begin soon. A battle that would decide his own future as well as those he had come to love.

   Griffin struggled to stand, tall and proud, preparing to fight whether he was tied to a plow or clutching a sword, just as Scotia had taught him.

  
Amidst the light of fifty torches, Scotia and Ian led the entire village and all their warriors through the darkness, following the obvious trail one group of Horsemen and their army had left behind. The disrupted brush would have been clue enough that he headed toward Glencarron Castle. But he also made no effort to conceal the tracks left from the horses or the deep grooves cut into the soil by the heavy plow Griffin carried.

   Scotia sat atop her horse. She surveyed the mounted warriors who fanned out in front and behind the group, braving the darkness of the night. Warriors and villagers alike carried torches as well as some sort of weapon, be it a sword, a spear, an ax, or a crossbow. A surge of pride welled inside her. They were all prepared to do what they must to survive a midnight attack. With Ian among them, she felt the odds were greatly in their favor.

   Her gaze strayed to the man and horse to her left—her husband. Scotia smiled to herself, surprised at how easily the word came to her. Despite the tension Ian must be feeling, his posture was not rigid, as most men's would have been given the same situation. Instead, he sat his horse with an air of nonchalant control. It was a look that warned all who gazed upon him to proceed with caution. A look that said he had a purpose in mind and nothing would keep him from that.

   If she were wise she would heed that warning, but she could no longer put off the question that had haunted her since they had departed from the village in haste. "Do you wish you had gone on to the aid of your clan instead of coming back for me?"

   "That question serves no point other than to torture us both." He glanced her way, then turned back to the dark landscape ahead. "I made my choice. And I would make the same decision all over again if it meant keeping you from harm."

   He had chosen her protection and safety over the lives of those who had raised him. What had she done to deserve that kind of devotion? Was there more than his claim to keep her safe behind his decision to remain with her?

   She wanted to believe there was a deeper meaning, but most likely it was only her own desires clouding her thoughts.

   Desires and kisses and irrational yearnings—never had she known such a world existed until a few hours ago. Moonlight caressed the masculine sensuality of his body. He was strong, supple, and hers for a year and a day. Her cheeks warmed against the cool night air.

   Scotia forced herself to turn away from the tug of Ian's presence. Near him, she found it harder and harder to remember she served Scotland as guardian of the Stone, as a trainer of warriors. But was that all she could be? Was there no room in her life to serve the roles of wife and mother? Could she let go of centuries of obligations and duties to think of herself and her own happiness? If her own mother had been so horribly wrong about sex with a man, could she also be wrong about marriage? It was something to consider.

   Feeling the enormity of her decision, Scotia shifted her gaze to the stars. She had found answers to her troubles in the heavens before. Perhaps she would do so again.

   The night seemed to sparkle all around her, as if the air had been freshly washed and cleared of all that had come before this moment. She drew a breath of the sweet air into herself. New beginnings. Fresh chances. Would such a thing be possible for Ian and herself? Hope glimmered inside her despite all the odds against them.

   She stole another glance at the fierce yet gentle man beside her. Perhaps if they made it through the coming battle, they would have that second chance.

   The remainder of their journey passed in silence. Scotia used the time to run a thousand different possibilities through her mind. Had the Black Horseman rejoined the White and Red Horsemen? Did they head for her castle, or did they wait in secluded darkness, ready to spring a trap upon those who drew near? Would she and Ian find themselves trapped between the two groups before they could attempt to rescue Griffin? Did Griffin remain alive?

   She knew from personal experience the White Horseman could be as cruel as he was cunning. And what about those she had left back at the castle? Were they as safe as she had assumed they would be?