Chapter 7 #2
He twitched his right shoulder. “I bear the mark of the ruler. Only the chief bears such markings. It is placed upon us by our soul’s brethren when we assume the responsibility of leadership.”
Now she was the one confused. “Your soul’s brethren?”
“Aye.” A sudden leeriness shouted from him. He squared his shoulders as if bracing himself for her reaction. “Our soul’s brethren are kindred to us. Our spiritual twin. We are connected by our ethereal selves rather than by our physical selves and by blood.”
“I see.” No, she didn’t really see, but what else could she say?
And deep down, something told her he wouldn’t tell her any more than he already had.
Besides, there was still the matter of getting dressed and this person who felt the need to bathe her.
“Uhm…I appreciate Albionna’s willingness to help, but I know how to bathe myself.
In fact, I just took one this morning. I’m sure I’ll be fine if I could just have something to throw on besides a blanket. ”
“Ye are my mate. The lady of Kindred Fortress. Ye shall be served and dressed as ye deserve.”
The more information she got, the less she understood. “Could I just have some clothes, please?” Dressed, she stood a better chance of surviving when she escaped, because escape she would. She was not staying here for fourteen days and nights.
He locked eyes with her, pinning her with his gaze. “Ye will not leave here, Lyla. Not until I have had my fortnight to convince ye this is where ye belong.”
Was she that easy to read? Or, with all the other strangeness of this place, was he able to read her mind? “I don’t belong here,” she said with the firmness she used whenever teaching music, dealing with lawyers, or negotiating contracts with Jana.
“Ye dinna ken that. Not yet.” He handed her the whisky and nodded at the glass. “My best vintage. Go slow with it, aye? ’Tis aptly named Dragon’s Breath.”
Easily taking in the drink’s potency with a hesitant whiff of its fumes, she risked a tiny sip, held it on her tongue for a flesh-searing half second, then debated whether to swallow the lava or spit it back in the cup.
“Hot,” she gasped while struggling to breathe through the burn trailing down her throat and pooling in her stomach.
Magnus covered her mouth with his and gently pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.
The fiery trail of the whisky disappeared, turning as mild and sweet as warmed honey and settling in her as cozily as summer wine.
Then a different heat, a deliciously aching heat, made her forget about the whisky.
Before she realized it, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself tighter into his embrace.
He held her close, lifting her off her feet while deepening the kiss. When he groaned, it rumbled between them, searing through her as surely as if she’d swallowed that lava whisky again and set herself on fire.
Can’t…shouldn’t…She kicked her feet and tried to wriggle away.
With a heavy sigh, Magnus lifted his head, eased her down, and stepped back from her once again.
“You tricked me,” she accused, knowing it as surely as if he’d confessed it.
The wickedness in his lopsided grin sent another surge of yearning through her. “Ye canna blame a man for trying, lass.”
She needed clothes. No more alcohol. That was a given. “I’d like to get dressed now, please.”
“Ye’ll not be leaving.” The depth of his voice echoed with an impossible-to-miss warning.
You can’t blame a girl for trying. But she didn’t say it aloud. Something about him told her that if she did, he’d rip the blanket away and have her standing there naked as the day she was born. She clutched the cloth tighter to her chest. “The clothes you promised? Please?”
He held out his arm and waited, his eyes glowing an even richer shade of gold centered within the lightning-silver rims of his irises. Silent, powerful, and breathtaking, he stared at her with his arm extended in the ancient, chivalrous gesture of protection.
“What?” Did he really mean to escort her to the dressing room?
“This is respect, my lady. Caring. A sign of my protection and claiming of ye.” He gently took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “It leaves no question in anyone’s mind about who ye belong to.”
“I am not a pet.”
“No, lass. Ye are a rare and precious treasure I have searched for all my life, and I dinna intend to lose ye now that I’ve finally found ye.”
Her heart soared, rendering her breathless in spite of her determination to remain focused and logical. She shivered, finding herself unable to describe all that Magnus MacRaith was and every response he triggered within her.
With a decisive nod, he turned them toward a curtained-off doorway to the left of the enormous bed in which she’d awakened. She supposed it made sense that a man of his size slept in a bed as large as a football field. He swept aside the curtain of the arched doorway and halted.
“Albionna. Yer mistress is ready for her evening bath,” he said to what appeared to be a large, empty dressing room.
Massive wardrobes, long cabinets filled with drawers, and gleaming camelback trunks lined the walls.
Mirrors, footstools, cushioned benches, and racks piled high with bolts of cloth made the area seem more like an elite dress shop where every piece of apparel was custom-made.
He kept her hand tucked in his arm, and for some reason, she realized she kind of liked that. It made her feel safe.
A beautiful, dark-haired woman with soulful eyes emerged from another doorway across the room. She bowed her head, gracefully curtsied, then kept her gaze lowered. “The pools are ready, my chief. Perfumed oils and soaps await yer lady’s orders, and the towels and pillows are warming on the hearth.”
“Well done, Albionna.” Magnus patted Lyla’s hand and smiled down at her. Somehow, this man possessed the power to make her feel like the center of his universe with just a look. “Let me show ye the bathing solar, my lady, and then ye may decide whether ye wish to forgo it or not.”
His smug anticipation made her hold her breath as they walked through the next doorway.
It opened into a warm, steamy sauna-like cave that pulled you in with the promise of delicious pampering.
This was no bathroom with a tub or shower made for a quick scrub to ready you for the day.
This was a luxury resort that demanded at least a full four-day booking to enjoy every comfort it offered.
Tall, ivory pillar candles softly flickered from shallow alcoves chiseled in the walls of stone.
And the walls weren’t the stone blocks expected in a castle.
This room, this bathing solar, was an oasis carved out of the center of an obsidian mountain, and it was breathtaking.
Water softly trickled downward from various spots in the walls.
The soothing musical rivulets glinted in the candlelight before emptying into a series of large, interconnecting pools that glimmered throughout the room.
A cheery fire crackled and popped in the corner hearth.
An almost magical layer of steam danced across the waters of the pools, promising a warm, welcoming embrace.
Lyla breathed in the misty air that wasn’t at all cloying or sticky with too much heat.
It possessed a floral scent: light, delicate, and enhanced with a hint of sweet musk.
She nearly relaxed and stretched out her arms to embrace it, but caught herself just in time as her blanket almost dropped to the floor.
“What shall it be, my lady?” Magnus’s deep voice with his sexy Scottish brogue rumbled through the vast room like seductive thunder. “Would ye care to enjoy the pools or do ye still wish to hurry and dress?”
“Oh, my lady, surely ye wish to soak in the waters and recover from yer day’s stresses?
” Albionna hurried forward, wringing her hands as if she feared she was about to be sentenced to life with no chance of parole.
“The pool closest to the hearth is the perfect place to start. I’ve already laid out all the flasks and crocks so ye might choose which essences ye prefer. ”
Before Lyla could answer the attentive girl, a loud splash and a relieved groan made her turn to find Magnus lounging in the pool closest to the door.
With both arms stretched along the rim of the pool, he leaned back and rested his head on the pillow fitted into the top of the chiseled seat that cradled him at the perfect depth in the water.
It gently lapped across his chest as it calmed from where he’d jumped into the inky black pool that was the same shade as the rock that made up the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked him, then stamped her foot when he didn’t even bother to lift his head or open his eyes. “Magnus!”
“Aye?”
He kept his eyes shut, making her wish she had a glass of ice water to throw in his face. How dare he think her harmless.
“You actually expect me to bathe with you?”
Eyes still shut, he flipped a hand, lazily making a motion that encompassed the entirety of the room.
“There are three other pools here, my lady. I am in this one by the door. Ye have yer pick of the other two.” Then he lifted his head and finally locked eyes with her.
His grin turned smoldering, angering her even more.
“Or ye are more than welcome to join me in this one. I am quite willing to share.”
“Come, my lady,” Albionna gently urged, like a parent trying to avert a child’s tantrum. “Over here in front of the fire. I’ve a table set up to work the oils into yer lovely skin before ye soak.”