But she would talk to the knight. Tell him how she felt. And most likely end it. Her heart didn’t belong to him, even if her treacherous body did.
She found him crouching by the stream, much as Gwenvael had done the day before. Unlike Gwenvael, however, the sight of his body sent a thrill through her that knocked the air from her lungs.
She forced herself to walk up to him. To face the man and tell him exactly what she thought. She knew he sensed her presence, his whole body tensed at her approach. Waiting. Waiting for her. She stood behind him for several long moments. Neither speaking. Annwyl crouched low, her body close to his.
Before she realized what she was doing, she slipped her arm around his shoulders and kissed the side of his thick neck. His whole body suddenly loosened up at her touch and he turned his head to look at her. He gave her the perfect opportunity to say something. To tell him the truth. But she couldn’t stop staring at his full lips or wondering what it would be like to have him inside her again.
She kissed him and his moaning growl set her body on fire. Wanting someone was one thing. Knowing he wanted you just as much was something else entirely.
Tomorrow, she thought as he ripped the shirt from her back. I’ll tell him everything tomorrow.
* * *
Tomorrow. I’ll tell her everything tomorrow. Only a twinge of guilt needled his heart as Annwyl eagerly pulled his chainmail shirt over his head. Morfyd convinced him that morning that he should finally tell Annwyl the truth. Tell her that her dragon and her knight were one.
He promised himself he’d do it, too. He could feel her standing behind him and he had his speech all prepared. Then suddenly her arms were around him and her lips were on his neck. With those simple gestures all logic disappeared and all he could think about was burying his head between her thighs.
It seemed like they were both naked in a matter of seconds. Fearghus licked his way down her body, loving the feel of her hands on his skin, and in his hair. He settled between her thighs, her legs on his shoulders, and ran his tongue between the lips of her sex. He marveled at how wet she already was, how clearly she wanted him. He dipped his tongue inside of her and her body arched off the ground. She tasted so good, felt so good. He realized, as he slowly dragged his tongue across her clit, that she was everything he wanted and more.
He couldn’t give her up. He wouldn’t let her go. There had to be some way to keep her. To prove to her that they were meant for each other. And he would risk absolutely everything to make that happen.
Lorcan stared at his advisor. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”
Hefaidd-Hen spoke with his usual measured slowness. “Your sister is being protected by a dragon, milord. Perhaps two. The vision was not clear.”
“I don’t understand. How is she protected by dragons? People like her are eaten by dragons. I’m confused!” he bellowed.
“I can’t explain the relationship, Lord Lorcan. I can only tell you my vision.”
Lorcan rubbed his head. “Am I asking too much to want the little bitch dead? Am I?” It seemed Hefaidd-Hen learned long ago not to answer certain questions. “All I want is for her to suffer a painful, horrifying death. And for her head to be on a spike in front of my castle. That’s all I want.”
“We can still achieve that.”
“Go up against a dragon . . . or two? I think not, Hefaidd-Hen. I’d rather my last memory not be of flames.”
“Trust me, lord. I can find a way to get your sister and all that you desire.”
“How?”
“By doing what I do best.”
Lorcan looked at his advisor, a brutal chill running down his spine. Those cold blue eyes stared back, telling him nothing about the man behind them. But Hefaidd-Hen had proven himself time and time again in the past. As much as his very presence disturbed Lorcan, he could not deny that the man was a powerful ally.
“You have three days. After that, Hefaidd-Hen, I start to get angry.”
“I understand.” Hefaidd-Hen gave Lorcan the oddest smile before he bowed low and quietly left.
Morfyd needed to go to the village. A woman in her care would give birth in the next few days and all the signs told her it would not be an easy delivery. She’d already warned Fearghus she might be gone off and on for a bit, but Annwyl’s body healed well. She no longer needed Morfyd’s care.
As she walked out of the cave she passed Annwyl walking in. The girl had her swords in one hand. The other hand held her ripped shirt and bindings over her ample breasts. Her brows angled down into a dark frown and she wouldn’t even look at Morfyd as she passed.
“How did that talk go then?” Morfyd called over her shoulder.
“Shut. Up.”
Morfyd laughed as she advanced into the glen toward the clearing where she could take off. She rounded a corner and came upon her brother, his chainmail shirt and sword in his big hand, heading toward the hidden entrance of his cave. She watched him as he passed and she noticed the long scratches across his back.
“How did that talk go then?” Morfyd called over her shoulder.
“Shut. Up.”
Morfyd shook her head. If love always made you this pathetic, she wanted nothing to do with it.
Brastias tugged the hood of his cloak over his face. Again he wondered how much longer they had before Lorcan made his move. He could feel it. Feel it coming. Even before his spies told him to start getting his men ready, he knew that something had changed. Lorcan’s troops were readying for battle at Garbhán Isle. And he sensed that a strike would be coming from Lorcan himself, but he wasn’t sure when or how.
He wished he could see Annwyl. Discuss it with her. She knew her brother better than anyone else. She’d know exactly how and when Lorcan’s forces would strike. Instead, all he could do now was wait for more information to come their way and hope they’d have time to react.
The door to the busy pub smashed open and again he turned to see who entered. Already he’d lost three hours waiting. Waiting to see her.
Danelin brought him over another ale and sat across from him. “How much longer?”
“Until she gets here.”
Brastias didn’t mean to be so abrupt but he didn’t like being out in the open any more than Danelin. He’d rather be back at the camp, safe, with a lot of troops surrounding him. But he had to know how Annwyl fared. It had been days since the witch called Morfyd came to see him that first and only time. He hoped she would bring more messages from Annwyl. But she never returned. So, when he heard she was in the village visiting one of the women about to have a baby, he decided to go to her himself. He heard she always stopped at the pub for food or drink later in the evenings. So he waited and worried. Not about her or even about Annwyl. But about the rebellion.
He could tell the rebellion would soon come to an end. Tension grew daily. Many of the local villages emptied out. All except this one. Many of the rebellion’s families lived here. Their wives and children. He debated whether to give the order to move them all into the Citadel of Ó Donnchadha where they would hopefully be safest. He knew the women would never willingly leave their mates.
As he wondered about the logic of this move, he saw her. How could he miss her? She stood taller than Annwyl and almost the same height as him. A grey cloak covered her witch’s robes. She found a table in the back and ordered food. After the bar wench left, Brastias walked over to her table.