Chapter 7 #3
“You desire me thrash you? Brave lad.” Dorchad patted the shorter man’s shoulder, making him flinch.
“Alas, I’ve promised a brother I shall smear the lists this morn with his blood and tears.
Come back another time and I shall oblige you.
Until you do, tell your master the MacRune shallnae attend him.
Ever.” He turned him toward the gates and gave him a small push.
Tair waited until the courier trotted out before he joined the war master. “I heard what he told you about the druid lad. What more?”
“Before they make their way to Aberdeen the slavers shall stop and collect more poor bastarts the new magistrate wishes sell them, or so claims the MacAlen,” Dorchad told him. “’Tis why he desires your attendance at Dun Maor. He wishes scheme with you.”
“Fack him and his schemes.” In the past Fifer had tried several times to lure him away from the island on some such pretext; to date Tair had never agreed to any meeting. “Place guards around the shorelines. Assure no more visitors land for now.”
Dorchad bowed. “Aye, my lord.” When he straightened he looked past his shoulder, his upper lip forming a slight snarl, and then he walked off.
“Morning, Chieftain.” Lucy called after him as she joined Tair, and then uttered a heavy sigh. “I guess we’re never going to be mates.”
Tair knew her meaning of mates was far less intimate than his. “Dinnae torment Dorchad. His temper’s worse than mine.”
“Sorry, no, it’s not. But here’s your chance to prove me wrong.” She regarded him. “I’d like permission to go ashore and visit the village. It would be brilliant if you could go with me.”
“No,” he said, and looked down as she took hold of his hand and curled her fingers through his. “You’ve decided?” He’d take her back to bed as soon as she said yes.
“Lochran said that there’s a farmer’s market today in the village, and we can talk to some of the local people there,” she said, not looking at him.
“Someone might know more about the cluet than we do. There are always legends that are based on the truth, and it could have some special connection to this place. Maybe we can find out something to help us determine where it’s hiding. ”
Tair wanted to toss her over his shoulder and take her back to his bed regardless of her decision. Once he drove her mad with pleasure, she would happily give herself to him. They had wasted enough time. She belonged to him.
Surrender to the fury of your sire’s dark blood, Brenna’s voice drifted from the back of his memories, and that shall destroy the mortal heart I gifted you.
“If I take you, you must cease touching me,” he told her as he shook off her hand. “You shall dress as a kitchen maid, carry a basket and walk three steps behind me. I shall speak, you shall listen. ”
Lucy looked for a moment as if she would disagree. “Two steps behind you, and no basket.”
The wench would never stop prodding him, Tair thought, and then took the simplest path by nodding and walking away from her. He would go to the lists and beat bloody someone foolish enough to step into the sparring circle with him before he spent the day with her off the island.
Cath stood waiting with two cudgels, as if he’d heard his very thoughts.
“Your second bid me wait for you here,” the war master said, tossing one of the cudgels to him. “He’s too annoyed to face me.”
Tair caught it. “My second doesnae like you much, then.”
“More that he’s certain I shallnae end you.
” Cath removed his tartan but kept on the tunic he used for sparring, as it covered the truly gruesome skinwork their sire had inked on his chest, belly and back.
“You’ve permitted that blonde wench to knot your cock round your baws again, eh?
Foolish. You’re the laird. She’s naught but a female. Take her.”
Tair stripped down to his trews and stepped out of his boots before he strode barefoot into the circle. “I shall remind you of our rules, eejit.”
“Aye, right.” He mirrored his movements. “Only ’ tis plain to see she wants taking. Didnae she just curl her wee fingers with yours?”
“Shut up and fight,” Tair said, attacking.
No one ventured out of the stronghold to watch them while they sparred, likely to avoid being called into the circle by the victor.
For a time Tair wondered if it would be Cath, as the war master used the cudgel to pound his limbs, chest and back unmercifully.
The pain thankfully kept his temper in check, but the warmth of Lucy’s touch still burned on his flesh.
Tair knew the time he had promised her had already run out for him. It had become almost impossible to keep his hands from her long, luscious body. Soon he would have to move her out of the bed chamber or risk losing control. That or put her back in the dungeons.
Why should I care if the wench despises me for seducing her? She wants me just as sorely.
“Your thoughts escape the bout,” Cath said just before he tried to sweep Tair’s leg out from under him.
He grabbed the war master’s tunic and slung him across the circle. “You envy me that pretty wench. Get your own. Lucy belongs to me.”
“I freed my wee love from the horrors of the dark Fae kingdom in Elphyne. ’Twill never be another for me.” The war master suddenly lowered his club. “Dinnae give your heart to a mortal wench. You shall bury the damned thing with her.”