Chapter 7 #3
Drust was still awake when he heard Willa finally return to the cottage.
It seemed that he had slept for so long, further rest now completely eluded him.
And his mind was full. He needed to know if Faith was safely returned to Bren.
And Mored, did Bren know the evil sorcerer was still alive…
still a threat? He even found himself worrying over his younger brother Eian, whose wild ways always got him into trouble, and whose two older brothers were always saving his hide.
And then there was the undeniable miracle that he was even alive… it would take some getting used to.
He had somehow survived… no, he had been saved.
Saved by a beautiful woman… the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
And now he was alone with her in a remote cottage and she was stirring his blood even when his body should not be able.
Aye, there was something of the way-too-good-to-be-true about this whole scenario.
He had best be cautious. He lived in a world where fate was fickle and trickery abounded.
He had long since learned that things were not always what they seemed, and usually not what one hoped they were.
He would be wise to be exceedingly careful.
But then, he had never been one to be lured by a lush body or pretty face. That was Eian’s weakness, not his.
The sun had long since set, and the room was dark except for the moonlight that touched everything with a pale glow.
He had been lying there watching the moon rise over the trees, and now it hung just above them, filling the top half of the small window with its light.
Again he heard a soft sound as the door to the bedroom opened.
Willa. He slid his eyes nearly closed to feign sleep while he watched her from under his lashes.
She came directly to the bed, pausing to pull the covers tighter over him before placing a cool hand on his forehead, as if to check for fever. Even as she neared, his heart beat faster, harder, making his wound throb. He had to concentrate to keep his breaths slow and even.
Seeming satisfied that he was sleeping peacefully, she moved away, and he caught the fresh sent of outdoors and night and woman.
He cracked his eyes open further to watch as she crossed the room to where a small trunk rested against the wall.
She opened it and pulled out an item of clothing, closing the lid and setting it on top.
With her back to him, her hands went to the ties of her skirt, and he held his breath.
Certainly she wasn’t going to undress with him here in the room?
Ah, but she was! She thought him asleep.
Guiltily, he closed his eyes to give her the privacy she thought she had.
But he just couldn’t manage to keep them shut.
They opened again against his will and he covertly watched her in spite of his best intentions.
Och, I am only a man after all… and it’s not as if I could move from this bed, even if I wanted to…
Her skirt fell to the floor with a soft whoosh and she bent to pick it up, folding it neatly atop the trunk.
Then her hands slid to the hem of her chemise.
Damn, but he was hard again under the blanket, suddenly aching, throbbing, unable to look away.
She lifted the fabric up over her body in one smooth motion, pulling it over her head before folding it atop the skirt and picking up what must be a night dress.
Was he dreaming? God, but she was too beautiful to be real!
She stepped back into a shaft of silvery moonlight for a moment while she slipped her arms into the sleeves, and his breath caught in his throat.
She was so very lovely. Long, slender lines of pale ivory skin swelled into perfect curves as her long hair tumbled loosely down her back.
When the night dress finally fell to cover that exquisite body, he nearly groaned with disappointment. But that would have given him away.
She unrolled a pallet of thick blankets on the floor and sank down onto it, stretching her long and slender limbs before pulling another blanket up over herself and giving a contented sigh.
Why was she sleeping there on the floor?
Surely there must be another room… she must think to be close in case his fever returned in the night.
Gratitude for her tender care warred with feelings of frustration and anger at his physical weakness.
Thoughts came unbidden into his mind, lustful thoughts the likes of which he could not remember ever having before, at least not this strongly.
He closed his eyes and could almost see himself taking the few steps to where the lass lay on her pallet.
He could feel her softness beneath him as he stretched his body over hers, covering her completely, keeping her there, at his mercy.
In his mind, her clothing was gone, as was his, and her bare skin felt warm and soft against his hard body.
His hand reached to cup a full, soft breast while his lips took hers in a fierce and carnal kiss.
Unable to control himself a moment longer, he pushed his aching cock inside of her body with a growl, taking her, possessing her.
And it felt so very good, and somehow…right.
Opening his eyes, he tried to shake off the waking dream, confused by its unfamiliar intensity.
Under the blanket, his hips rocked a little, helplessly, futilely.
The movement sent a sharp bolt of pain through his side, where his wound felt hot and tight and throbbing beneath the bandages.
Och, but it was going to be a long night.
Why must his mind and body betray him now, of all times?
Drust opened his eyes to light streaming in through the window.
He must have slept, after all. He groaned, lifting his arm to shield his still bleary and aching eyes from the brightness.
The he looked out from under a wrist to the pallet on the floor.
The lass… Willa… was gone already. Where was she?
What was she doing? The always battle-ready soldier in him felt the compulsion to gather information on his surroundings.
The layout of the house and the surrounding terrain…
whether there were horses… the best escape route.
All things he usually did automatically, often without even realizing he did so.
Only now, when he was confined to a bed in a strange place did he recognize how ingrained it was in him to protect, to fight, to survive…
He couldn’t stand it anymore, this lying in bed, being an invalid.
And it had only been less than a day since he woke, how long would he be stuck here like this?
His frustration grew by the minute, making him want to jump out of his own skin.
He would never get his strength back this way, he decided.
Hell if I’m going to take this lying down any longer.
Slowly, determinedly, he pushed himself up in the bed with his good arm and swung his legs over the side.
His side screamed in protest, the barely healed flesh stretching and throbbing with each movement.
His vision swam, and for a few seconds blackness threatened, but after a moment it cleared and he managed to get to his feet.
He stood shakily, swaying on his feet, eyeing the door that suddenly seemed so very far away.
He eventually reached it with slow, lumbering steps, but had to stop and lean against the thick wooden planks when his vision began to go black again.
Damn, he must have lost even more blood than he thought for a wound and fever to affect him so.
He was a warrior in the prime of his manhood, and usually recovered quite rapidly from illness or injury. Usually nothing kept him down for long.
When the dizziness passed and his vision cleared, he continued on, determined to go outside for some fresh air, and to see for himself exactly where he was.