Chapter 20
Heather winced as her husband pulled out of her.
“Damn it, Heather, I told you to tell me if you were sore,” Rhys said, rolling off her to sit up beside her in bed. “How sore are you?” he asked, his hands reaching to spread her legs further apart.
Heather quickly closed them tight.
Rhys looked down at her. “Do not tell me you are embarrassed for me to take a look when there is not a spot on you I have not seen, touched, or kissed.”
“That was in the throes of lovemaking.”
“You will obey me. Now spread your legs.”
She shook her head.
“Am I to understand that you will only obey me when we make love?”
She smiled. “You are beginning to understand me.”
“A pity that you have yet to understand me,” he said and moved so fast that Heather let out a sharp cry when he spread her legs wide.
Rhys cringed when he took a look. “Damn it, Heather, you should have told me you were too sore to take me this morning.”
“My desire for you outweighed my soreness,” she said, her cheeks blushing red.
“What can I do to ease your pain?”
“Stop looking between my legs.”
He closed her legs gently. “Now tell me how I can tend you.”
“I will see to it myself.”
“I caused this, and I will make it right,” he insisted.
She laughed softly. “I did not force you to lay with me.”
He laughed as well. “I could argue that, since you can be quite demanding in bed...or out of it.”
Heather blushed again, recalling the places they had made love in the room.
She had straddled him while he sat upon a chair, and the door shook when he took her against it.
Her blush deepened when she just now realized the guard could have heard them.
And what of her screams? She had been wickedly loud when he had bent her over the table and the bed. Her hand went to cover her mouth.
Rhys grabbed her hand. “Your deepening blush tells me your thoughts. I love the way you scream when I plunge deep inside you and I would order you never to stop,” —he grinned— “but it is not necessary, for you will never be able to stop yourself from screaming out your pleasure.”
“It is your fault,” she argued.
“Aye, it is,” he admitted, “as is this.” He laid his hand gently at the apex of her legs. “Now let me tend you.”
Heather rested her hand on his arm. “Please, let me see to it?”
“You ask like an obedient wife, so I will not refuse you, though know that I will not touch you again until I see for myself that you have healed.”
“As you wish, husband,” she said, smiling.
“I mean it, Heather,” he said sternly, and his arm was quick to scoop her around the waist and bring her along with him to settle on his lap once he sat braced against his pillows. “Now tell me what you were doing on the upper floor last night.”
She moved to settle more comfortably on his lap and recounted what Seamus had told her. “So, that is what took me there, though to no avail, for I found no secret passage.”
“We will search the room together later when I am finished with things that require my attention.”
Heather tucked a strand of his dark hair behind his ear, then ran her finger down along his jaw to his chin. She searched his face for the young man she loved, but it was the Dark Dragon she kept seeing. Had he devoured Quinn completely or had Quinn had no choice but to surrender to him.
“Who was the man who made love to me for the first time in this bed? He touched and kissed me, but he was never truly here.”
“A man trying to be someone other than who he is.”
“Who is he?”
“He is a man more used to harshness than to kindness. A man more used to roughness than to gentleness when taking a woman. A man more used to hatred than to love.”
Heather sat up straight. She ached to tell him that she had always loved him and always would, but she answered as she thought best for now. “I do believe I am falling in love with the Dark Dragon.”
He took hold of her chin. “Do not waste your love on me, wife, for you will be sorely disappointed.”
* * *
Heather stared at the sizeable wood chest two men had placed in the room under the window. The rain had stopped in the middle of the night, but the skies had remained overcast, so it was a gray light that filtered through the windows and over the chest.
Rhys had told her that he was having it brought to her, explaining that perhaps she would find some garments in it that she could wear or perhaps stitch to fit her size.
She had just finished tending herself with cool cloths and a light salve she had found worked well on the women in her clan who had suffered such a problem.
Now she wanted to dress and get outside before rain fell again and forced her to remain inside.
She opened the lid of the chest eager to find something to wear and be on her way.
Her mouth fell open in shock. The chest was filled to the brim with women’s garments and as she rifled through them, she wondered where her husband had gotten them all.
Surprisingly, most looked as though they would fit her and the few that did not would need only a tuck or two. None appeared too small or too large.
She chose a pale green garment that cinched at the waist and shoulders with ties, fitting her nicely.
The sleeves fell just passed her elbows and it rode high on her chest. She did not want to waste time searching through all the garments, but she did dig her hands through the mound, hoping to find boots or shoes, and she was elated when she yanked out a pair of boots that strapped around the ankles.
She was also delighted to find a pair of sandals, better left to wear another day.
With her hair neatly plaited, she hurried out of the keep, grateful to Nessa for having brought food to her after Rhys had left.
She walked around the small village, calling out greetings, stopping to speak with those she knew and getting acquainted with those she did not know.
Now and then she would cast a glance toward the barn, though she did not make it obvious.
A guard sat in front of the door, so that not even a quick-footed person could get past him.
Still, she was determined to find a way in there.
She walked along the edge of the woods talking with Belle until the woman excused herself to tend to her chores. Heather kept walking. She had thought she heard an odd noise when Belle had been there. Now she listened and was sure she heard something.
An animal was in distress. Ever since she was young, she could sense when animals needed help and they seemed to sense that she could help them. She never told anyone about it, though she often thought her father knew. He made mention time and again how her mum had a special way with animals.
Heather stopped and listened, and the sound broke her heart. She could not ignore the animal’s cries of distress. She knew ghost warriors had to be watching her, but she could be fast on her feet when necessary. She only hoped that she was faster than the warriors who would chase after her.
She listened for a few more minutes, pretending she found something interesting on the ground and poked at it with her foot. Then suddenly, she took off into the woods. She was relieved that it did not take long to reach the animal and that no one had yet followed.
Her breath caught as she came face to face with the beast. It was a wolf, a large black one.
If the warriors saw him, they would surely kill him.
Heather stopped a few feet from the wolf and waited a moment before she began to approach him slowly and speak to him softly. “I am here to help, but I fear we have little time. So, I have no time to win your trust.” She hunched down and held out her hand to him. “May I help you?”
The wolf seemed to sense her gentleness and urgency and approached her with quick steps.
Heather saw how he hobbled to her and once he was close, she laid a gentle hand at his side and continued speaking softly to him as she ran her hand down along his leg.
She heard the soft rumble of a growl in his throat, and it took a moment for her to realize that he warned her that soon they would not be alone.
“I must hurry,” she said and lifted his paw to see that a sliver of wood had somehow embedded itself between the pads of his paw. It was red and sore, but if she could extract it, she was sure he would see to the rest.
She heard rushing footfalls drawing closer and while she stroked the wolf gently with one hand, she plucked the sliver of wood out with the other. “You must run,” she whispered to him.
“Step away slowly, Lady Heather.”
She almost sighed with relief when she heard it was Pitt and not her husband. She turned, keeping herself close to the wolf so that the warriors would not take a chance of releasing their arrows in fear of hitting her.
“He was injured. I saw to his wound. He means you no harm,” she called out.
“Step aside,” Pitt ordered again.
“I will not let you harm him.” She realized then that more men were gathering around, and they would be on the wolf as soon as he took off. She had no choice. She would not see the beautiful creature die. She had to run with him so that the warriors would not pelt him with arrows.
“The Dragon will be here soon, Lady Heather. He will not be happy about this.”
That was enough to have her turn to the wolf and say, “Run!”
She followed right behind him, pleased that her frequent runs in the meadow with her sisters had served a purpose after all. She kept pace with the wolf or perhaps he had sensed her intentions and kept a pace she could follow.
The footfalls behind her were growing closer and she called out to the wolf, “Keep going. No matter what keep going.”
The wolf picked up speed and she followed as best she could and when he jumped atop a formation of rocks and disappeared behind it, she sensed he was safe. She stopped abruptly and just as abruptly was grabbed from behind and swung around to face her husband.