Chapter 16
Brodie couldn't believe the storm crashing inside him, more violent than the one outside.
He had never faced such powerful emotions.
His need for her near brought him to his knees.
He had never taken a woman so hard, certainly not her.
One part of him raged at her for the torture she'd inflicted on his soul, while another, bone-deep part of him was voracious for her.
Starving for her sweet mouth, craving her soft, silken skin, yearning to bury himself inside her hot, wet depths.
He was only a mortal man. How could he resist?
When she'd said she loved him, even though 'twas a lie, his soul hung on to the words in desperation. If only....
Was taking her, this act that should bind their souls, just an empty illusion that meant nothing?
He tasted the salty tears on her face, or was it the seawater? Her cries and screams fed his own feral desire. She held him so tightly, her hands fisted in his hair, almost painful.
He took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit.
'Twas as if no time had passed since their last joining, and yet, a lifetime had passed. He had been desolate and wretched the whole time, his emotions frozen in the winter seawater. Not this searing bonfire that threatened to incinerate him from the inside out.
His flowing, surging movements heightened and accelerated, and she clamped on to him, her body shuddering, tightening, and trembling as she keened her elation once again, head thrown back.
He gritted his teeth, trying to withstand it, trying to hold back, but he couldn't. The peak smashed against him with a pleasure so powerful it bordered on agony.
Driving to the hilt, he growled like a ferocious animal, sounding unhinged to his own ears, as the ecstasy decimated him.
Damn her for stripping his soul bare and laying waste to him.
Depleted, he sagged against the cave wall, gulping air, simply trying to convince his mind to return.
She was weeping, damn it. He clenched his jaw hard and withdrew from her.
He didn't want to, but this madness couldn't go on.
Gently, he set her to her feet, and she almost went down. He grabbed her, holding her upright.
"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Aye." She did not sound sure of that.
"Did I hurt you?"
"Nay."
Saints, he might have. Sometimes he didn't know his own strength.
His mind reeled in turmoil, doubts and questions bouncing and pinging. He could not sort it out now, and he had no time. The selkies needed him to lead them in rescuing their tribeswomen.
At the cave's entrance, he paused. The distant rumbling thunder moved overland toward the east. "The storm has passed." He turned back to her, though he couldn't see her in the night. "Come." He held out his hand. When she clasped it, he turned. "Climb onto my back."
"Nay. Why?"
Impatient, he blew out a breath. "Do you always have to contradict me?"
"Nay."
"I'm going to carry you up the cliff."
"I can climb," she said stubbornly.
"I'll lead you then."
"Alright."
Holding her hand, he helped her through the near darkness of the stony shore, then went up in front.
The rain and wind were dwindling but not yet finished.
When he had witnessed Neil leading her up the cliff earlier, an irrational fury had burned through him.
Neil should not be touching her. No man should, but Brodie.
At the top, when they were on even ground again, Brodie lifted her into his arms and carried her through the darkness, across the drenched grass toward the portcullis.
She didn't protest this time, thank the saints. Instead, she put her arm around his neck and nuzzled her face against his shoulder. He tamped down the tumult inside him.
"Saunders!" Brodie yelled toward the guard tower.
Inside, hurried footsteps pounded down the stairs.
"Chief." Saunders unlocked the gate. "You're back already?"
Brodie strode in. "Aye. Wait here."
The rain and wind had doused the torches on the walls of the keep. Only the lantern in the guard tower provided a weak light.
He carried her to the base of the steps that led into the great hall and set her on her feet. "Go inside and warm yourself, lass."
"I thank you," she whispered. "And I pray you'll remain safe." Her head covered by the cloak's cowl, she hastened inside the keep.
He was thankful she didn't argue this time.
Returning to the gate where Saunders stood, Brodie said, "Do not allow her outside the walls again until I tell you to."
"Aye, m'laird." The guard bowed, then locked the gate behind him.
Brodie hurried back toward the cliff's edge and down. After disrobing in the cave and moving to the edge of the rough surf, he put on his sealskin and shifted into selkie form.
Using his hind flippers, he swam with all his might deep into the turbulent sea. It had not yet calmed from the storm. He must be careful, for the waves could easily slam him into the huge, craggy rocks.
***
THE GREAT HALL WAS almost empty when Elsea rushed through from outside. Had anyone noticed how long she'd been gone during the storm? Had Agatha? She hoped not.
Trying not to think about what she'd just experienced, Elsea hurried into her chamber, glad none of the maids were waiting for her. Although she liked her maid, Tilly, and missed her, Elsea was loving the freedom of not having someone prying into her whereabouts at every moment.
The fire had died down to glowing coals. She added a few pieces of driftwood.
She glanced down. Still wearing Brodie's cloak, she pressed her nose against the lining and drew in his scent—wood smoke and pine, the sea and clean soap.
She had confessed all and survived. Instead of throttling her, he had made one of her dreams come true. For a year and a half of nights, she'd fantasized about making love to him once more. He might never speak to her again, but she had this precious memory to keep her warm at night.
But she knew she would never be satisfied with just once.
Nay, it only made her yearn for more. She couldn't control his feelings, his actions, or anything about him.
He would do what he wished, but at least she had done her part in pushing him toward breaking the curse and getting him from beneath the witch's control.
Growing too warm, she removed the damp cloak and the arisaid. Her hands still jittery and unsteady, she hung them on the chair to dry.
What she had experienced with Brodie in the cave had surely been another of her fevered dreams.
Had it truly happened?
After removing her damp smock, she pulled on the borrowed night-rail and nestled under the covers. She still tingled all over from Brodie's touch, his kiss, his lovemaking. She smiled at the exhilaration.
Her heartbeat raced like a horse galloping across the moor. 'Twas the first time true happiness had sparkled within her since the curse began. If only they could defeat Wilona.
She didn't dare dream that she and Brodie could have a marriage, but she could still wallow in the memory of the perfection she'd experienced earlier.
Brodie was pure masculine power and dark seduction. He was lodged so deeply in her heart, he would never leave. And yet she had hurt him more than anyone.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. She would do whatever it took to make it up to him, even should she lose her life in the process.
She had abandoned him to the tragedy of the grim curse. At least, it had appeared that way. She had grieved for him every day, forcing herself to let him go. She couldn't go back... she couldn't change the decision she'd made in order to save his life.
But during his wild lovemaking... he hadn't hated her then.
Would he ever forgive her?
As her body calmed from the lightning strike encounter with Brodie, she missed him.
He should be here in bed with her now. During their betrothal, after they had become intimate, he always managed to slip into her chamber if they were in the same place, and no one had ever caught them.
He had told her if he got her with child, he would marry her early.
What if she was with child now?
Saints! She sat bolt upright in bed. He would accuse her of seducing him and trapping him.
He wouldn't marry her. Or he might marry her for the sake of the child and continue to hate her. What kind of life would that be?
At least she wouldn't have to marry that vile Talnaroch bastard. She lay back, imagining holding Brodie's precious bairn in her arms. Even if he didn't love her, their child would.
***
THICK CLOUDS HIDING the moon, Brodie swam swiftly through the cool, churning sea toward Rònmòrach Isle. Elsea's sweet perfection lingered in his mind, threatening to stir up a new obsession. He couldn't telepathically read the minds of humans, but her emotions echoed in the marrow of his bones.
She hadn't been lying.
He pushed the spellbinding memories and yearnings away. He had to focus.
Most of the male selkies awaited him on the island's shore, all in seal form.
They communicated telepathically, making brief plans.
Ronin, Daavar, Harcus and nine others were eager to go with him to rescue the females.
Chief Scarth would not accompany them. Instead, he and the remaining males would protect the females in their cave in the event of another raid.
Eight of the males carried a missing female's sealskin so all could shift after release.
A quarter hour later, he and the selkies scrambled onto the sandy beach below Dunrhyne and shifted into their human forms. They hid all the sealskins beneath a large rock that required two of them to move it. They wore no clothes and carried no weapons, but it mattered not.
Their vision in the darkness was far more acute than a human's. Since the storm, the air had cooled. Most people would be freezing, but their bodies were well adapted to the cold. Silently, Brodie led the way up the craggy steps of the cliff, much like the ones at Farspag.
At the top, he stopped and listened. The stiff breeze whipped, and the mostly moonless night hid them.