Warrior’s Redemption (20 page)

A short silence was followed by a general crunch of undergrowth, his mystery watcher no longer making any effort to conceal himself as he and, from the sound of it, his horse approached.

It should have been more of a surprise when Dermid stepped into the circle of light.

“And what is it you think yer doing here?” And after he’d made it perfectly clear the lad was not to come with him.

“I followed you.”

“Alone?”

From the moment Dermid had arrived at Castle MacGahan, he hadn’t taken two steps outside the shadow of his guardsman Rauf.

“Aye. I was sleeping it off in the stable and I awoke to find you readying yerself and yer horse. I waited until you left and then I followed. I’d no time to tell anyone I was going.” Dermid ducked his head sheepishly, casting a glance to the fire. “I dinna suppose you’ve an extra morsel? I’ve no had anything to eat since last night.” His stomach growled loudly as if to corroborate his story.

Malcolm resheathed his sword and squatted next to his pack. In short order he’d pulled out a sampling of the food he carried to hand over to his brother.

“I thought I made it clear you were to stay behind.”

Dermid nodded, eagerly stuffing a chunk of bread into his mouth. “Aye, that you did, Colm. But that was when I thought you planned to lead an army against Torquil. Since you go alone, I’m thinking you’ve decided to take him his silver after all?”

Malcolm tossed a skin of ale to the lad, fearing he might choke on the dry food he stuffed into his face.

“I carry no silver.”

Hand midway to his mouth, Dermid paused. “Then what do you think to do? Surely yer no about stealing Christiana from under his very nose? You ken the enormity of such a task, aye?”

More or less, that was exactly his plan, if a plan it could be called.

“I go to counsel with our brother. Torquil’s an intelligent man. I’ve faith he’ll see the reason to my argument.”

Dermid snorted his disbelief. “You canna expect me to believe what you say. We all ken there’s no love lost between you and Torquil. It’s a good thing I followed you. I can help you.”

Malcolm should have realized his brother wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded. “I spent as many years at Tordenet Castle as you have, lad. I’ve no a need for you to guide me about the passageways.”

“Mayhap.” Dermid shrugged. “But I’ve been there more recently than you. I ken the habits and the practices of our brother. I can show you the weaknesses in his underbelly. You need me, Colm, even as I need to go with you.”

Malcolm studied his youngest brother. Maybe the lad was right. Maybe he did need to go along. To prove something of his manhood to himself. So be it, so long as he stayed out of harm’s way.

“You can come along on one condition. I’ll have yer promise that you’ll no enter the castle gates. I want yer word that you’ll remain outside, where you can make yer escape if it comes to that. Will you swear to it?”

Excitement danced like the reflection of the flames in Dermid’s eyes as he shook his head up and down, his mouth stuffed overfull with the last of the meat and bread Malcolm had given him.

Malcolm sent up a brief prayer to Odin that he might not regret the decision he’d just made.

I
’VE A FEELING
I don’t like. A bothersome gnat of worry pestering away at the back of my mind.”

Dani glanced to the woman at her side as they hurried down the hallway, her stomach fluttering with its own share of pesky gnats. She was stressed enough about Malcolm and his stubborn-headed plan all on her own. But having the Faerie confirm her concerns? That was enough to push her right over the edge.

Elesyria patted a hand to her hair as they approached the carved wooden door of Malcolm’s solar.

“I’m sure I’ll feel better once we’ve had a talk with Patrick.”

Dani wished she could muster the same kind of confidence in Patrick that Elesyria demonstrated.

Though the door itself stood ajar, it was the angry voice blustering out of the opening that stopped them a few feet away.

“What do you mean, you canna find him?”

Dani pushed aside Elesyria’s outstretched arm to step closer. Close enough, in fact, to allow her to see who was on the receiving end of Patrick’s tirade.

Rauf.

“What kind of sorry excuse for a groomsman are you that you’ve lost my brother? Yer only task as far as I can see is to watch over him.”

Not that she should care that Dermid’s groomsman was getting royally reamed. The man absolutely gave her the creeps, always showing up at every corner she turned, like some cartoon spy.

But from here, observing his face, it was obvious the man was utterly distressed.

“Dani!”

Elesyria’s whisper of caution went unheeded. Damn, but she hated always feeling sorry for the underdog. Rauf might be a weasel of a man, but there was no way she was going to stand here and allow this browbeating to continue while the man in there visibly shivered in discomfort.

“What’s going on in here?” she demanded, pushing the door open and stalking into the room, Elesyria at her heels.

Patrick arched an eyebrow in their direction. “Am I to believe that in yer homeland, my lady, people dinna knock before they enter?”

Snide was so not going to work with her.

“Oh, we knock.” Dani moved fully into the room to stand at Rauf’s side. “But we’re not kept out by bullying blowhards. Now, how about we have this discussion without all that yelling.”

For a moment she wondered if Patrick might not turn his anger her direction, especially when Elesyria reached out to clasp her hand.

Instead, he sat down at the table and steepled his hands in front of him, his usual mask devoid of emotion firmly back in place.

“Though I dinna recall having invited you to be part of this discussion, perhaps you can assist Rauf here in explaining how he’s managed to lose track of my brother’s whereabouts. Especially considering that Dermid’s whereabouts were the only thing he was tasked with keeping track of.”

His mask appeared to have a crack or two in it.

“As I’ve already tried to explain, Master Patrick, I searched the entirety of the castle when I awoke and realized yer brother had no slept in his bed. It was near sunrise by the time I found his horse was gone as well.”

“What?” Patrick was on his feet again, his fist pounding down on the table.

No mask at all now, only raw emotion on display.

Elesyria dropped her grip on Dani and skimmed around the table to place a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “More flies with honey,” she murmured.

Once again, mask in place, Patrick took his seat. “You dinna share the news that my brother’s horse was missing as well.”

“I tried, Master Patrick, but . . .” The man’s bravado seemed to fail him under the burn of Patrick’s glare.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been yelling at him,” Dani interjected. “Perhaps then he might have gotten the whole story out.”

Patrick’s glower fell on her before turning back to
the original target of his displeasure. “You’ve done what you can for now, Rauf. Come to me immediately if you learn anything else. Begone with you now. And close the door behind you. Firmly.”

Dani crossed her arms in front of her, holding her tongue as the groomsman scurried out.

“You realize Dermid has likely gone after Malcolm, do you no?” Patrick tapped one long finger against the tabletop. “You realize as well, that being the case, Malcolm will no be pleased in the least.”

She nodded her agreement. Of all the things Malcolm would be if Dermid caught up with him, pleased was not one of them. Especially considering that an admonishment to see to Dermid’s safety had been part of the instructions he’d had her give to Patrick early this very morning.

Looking at it from that perspective, Patrick’s reaction made a lot more sense.

“I dinna suppose you showed up here solely to rescue poor old Rauf, now did you?”

“Hardly. The man makes my skin crawl.” Elesyria began to pace, much as she had in Dani’s bedchamber before they’d come down here. “I suppose it could be possible that this was what I felt,” she murmured, as if to herself.

“Well then, since it’s no Rauf you came for, do you plan to tell me what brought you here or am I to guess yer purpose, Elf?”

“Elesyria’s worried.” Dani chose to leap into the void, none too comforted by the flash in the Faerie’s glare.

“About?” Patrick prodded.

“About your brother.” Elesyria stopped her pacing to face him. “I awoke early this morning to a nagging
disquiet. I can feel something is wrong, something evil on the move, though I cannot tell what or from where it originates. I know only that it stalks your brother.”

“By the gods!” Patrick was on his feet and across the room in three strides, grasping Elesyria by the shoulders. “Tell me all that you see, Elf.”

She jerked her shoulder from his grasp and backed away. “I
see
nothing, you foolish Northman. I have no gift of vision. I simply have a feeling. And my feelings are rarely wrong.”

“Forgive me, Elesyria.” Patrick dipped his head in an obvious show of apology. “It’s no you what’s earned my anger. Only myself. Bad enough it is that I failed Malcolm’s instructions. But to have you confirm the truth that my brother is in danger, that’s the rub of it. I should have locked Dermid in the dungeons. That would have kept him safe.”

“Dermid?”

The expression on Elesyria’s face set a knot of panic rising in Dani’s stomach.

“You misunderstand what I’m trying to tell you, Patrick. Dermid is not the brother of whom I speak. The evil I sense stalks Malcolm.”

T
HERE WOULD BE
no fire to warm them this night.

Malcolm glanced across the clearing to where Dermid huddled into the curve of the great stones, his furs completely obscuring his head and body.

“Rest well, little brother. We move at first light.”

Dermid’s reply drifted back to him, barely intelligible from under the layers of fur covering the lad.

For days now, they’d traveled long and hard to reach the MacDowylt lands as quickly as they had. With a little luck, exhaustion would take its toll and his brother would fall asleep quickly.

Malcolm tightened his furs around him, refusing to think upon the pleasures of a fire even as he shivered with the cold. His new life of comfort was taking its toll, turning a warrior soft. And everyone knew a soft warrior was a dead warrior.

Fire was a luxury he could ill afford this night. Torquil was too close.

Well enough he knew the potential of his half brother’s abilities. His father, who himself had possessed the talent to send his enemies running from the battlefield in abject fear, had often alluded to the wealth of Odin’s power that resided in Torquil’s hands.

No sense going out of their way to draw his eye to their presence.

Across the clearing, the mound of fur that was his brother rolled over and curled into a ball.

“Sleep, little brother,” Malcolm whispered into the wind, sending the words like a prayer to be heard by the gods.

Or at least by one god. Well he could use Odin’s favor this night.

In spite of the plans he’d gone over with Dermid as they’d eaten their cold meal, he had no intention of risking his brother in his attempt to free Christiana. He would not sacrifice one sibling for another. Instead, he would wait until he was sure the boy slept and then he would be on his way to do what must be done.

Though he’d shared the scope of his plans, he had intentionally misled his brother on the timing. That Dermid believed they would begin their assault on Tordenet Castle at first light further served to convince Malcolm that his brother was no warrior. Only a fool would forgo the cover of a moonless night.

Nose cocooned in the warm furs, he waited, his mind drifting to thoughts more pleasant than what he would face in but a few hours.

A sparkle of colors shimmered and coalesced in his mind, forming itself into a vision of Dani. Her visage wavered across the backs of his closed eyelids as if he
watched her moving directly in front of him, as if he were looking through a hole into his own chamber at Castle MacGahan. She stood by his bed, gently gliding her hand across his pillow before she shouldered out of her robe and climbed under the covers.

It was as if he could feel the warmth of her body next to his, stretched out against him, one slender foot tracking its way up and down his calf.

He kept his eyes closed tightly, fearing the sensation would fade at any moment.

In the vision, he pulled back the blankets covering Dani’s body and grasped the hem of the gown she wore, lifting it up and over her head and tossing it to the floor. He skimmed his lips down the soft skin of her cheeks and neck to bury his face between her firm, rounded breasts. Her breath caught with a gasp and her back arched even as tiny shiver bumps arose on her skin.

Never would he tire of her body’s instant reaction to his touch.

Willingly she opened to him as he slid a hand across her belly and down to the juncture between her legs. A soft moan was his reward when his thumb began a lazy circle against the small, hard nub that inflamed her desire. A soft moan that inflamed his desire as well.

One finger and then two he dipped inside her heat, continuing the motion he had begun.

Her hips lifted from the bed and the walls of her sheath clenched rhythmically around his fingers, even as she grabbed for his hands.

“Now, Malcolm,” she panted as she pulled him to her. “Now is the time.”

His head jerked forward and his eyes flew open.

A moment of panic assailed him as he realized he’d foolishly allowed himself to drift off, dreams of the woman he wanted holding him captive in the arms of sleep.

A quick scan of the sky reassured him that he’d dozed for a thankfully short time. Obviously, Dermid hadn’t been the only one to taste the exhaustion of their strenuous journey.

He stood, allowing the night air to cool the heat that throbbed through his body. Heat that had nothing to do with the furs he’d wrapped around himself.