A Warrior's Heart Read online

  “Ye cast me from yer bed, told me not te come back. And then ye left. That says not wanting in my book.”

  *

  Roran sighed. “I thought it was for the best.”

  “Did ye now?” she asked, her voice too soft to be good. “Best fer whom?”

  Roran rolled until he was atop her again. Damn her, but his cock was rigid and needy again, greedy for her. With a slight roll of his hips he entered her, his passage eased by the remnants of his earlier possessions. If he could only keep her like this, pinned beneath him, filled with his seed, until she became so heavy with child she could not even think of trying to escape him. There would be no question of her marrying him then; the decision would be completely taken out of her hands.

  “You should have run farther, faster, little sprite, if you thought to escape me,” he said as he pulled back, then thrust into her again with agonizing slowness. “For I will never again let you out of my sight.”

  *

  Arrogant knight. Yet it was impossible to build up a sufficient amount of indignation when he was moving inside of her like that, reminding her that he did own her, right down to the last beat of her foolish heart. But while she knew that basic truth, knew it to the depths of her soul, she was not about to admit that to him. The last thing he needed was yet another advantage that certain knowledge would provide.

  “Decided that then, have ye?” she said with a hint of defiance, her words punctuated with the soft feminine grunts she made with each of his brutal, glorious penetrations.

  “Aye. You are mine, Brighid. You belong to me. Only me.” With each word, he thrust himself inside her, so deep that it was impossible to determine where one ended and the other began.

  Damn him, it was true. But he didn’t have to be so smug about it. “I am a princess.”

  He withdrew until only the tip of his cock nudged against her swollen pink folds, dripping with proof of his ownership. “You took a vow.” Eyes glittering, he slammed into her, making her arch in pleasure bordering on pain before withdrawing again. There was so much power, so much possession in the act that she was near breathless again.

  “Ye released me from it.”

  “You wear my brand.” Another masterful stroke, this one eliciting a cry of pure need.

  “It means naught.”

  “You.” Stroke. “Are.” Stroke. “Mine.” Stroke. She wanted to respond to him, but the words were caught behind the silent scream lodged in her throat. Roran stopped talking then, flipping her onto her stomach with one smooth move. One corded arm slipped beneath her hips, raising her ass to him. Grasping her hips, he entered her from behind. There were no more words; they were replaced by grunts of carnal pleasure and the sound of firm male flesh slapping against soft womanly curves. He pounded into her, fast and feral, owning her, dominating her.

  Brighid’s eyes rolled back in her head from the raw pleasure of it, her hands clawing into the dirt as she struggled to take all of him. The angle was deeper, more invasive. It was brutal, carnal, mating at its most animalistic. In the few lucid thoughts she was capable of, she realized that he was branding her all over again, marking her inside and out.

  Roran wrapped around her, curling against her back as he grew increasingly desperate. One arm reached for the floor, the other was an iron band around her waist, caging her, positioning her exactly where he needed her to be.

  Powerless against him, too weak to fight any longer, she had no choice but to submit. With one last soft cry, she gave in to the building of pressure, letting her climax consume her. The blackness around her vision edged inward until it was the only thing she saw. Unable to handle even one more moment of such intense pleasure, her mind took over and forced her into a deep sleep.

  *

  “Thank God,” Roran murmured as he eased her limp body down to the ground. She had finally succumbed. He was beginning to doubt he could bring her to such complete and utter surrender. His body dripped with sweat, his muscles shook from the effort it took to ravage her so thoroughly.

  Fighting his own weakness – that last ejaculation nearly killed him – he gently cleaned her and wrapped her in his clothes. Then he took care of himself and slipped beneath the thin blanket, spooning her against him.

  Only then did he allow his eyes to close and his mind and body to follow her into the black void.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sean raised an eyebrow when Roran finally emerged from the cave and joined the others. While Roran had been occupied with Brighid, they’d moved from their hidden posts in the surrounding forest to the higher ground near the caves and set up a complete camp.

  “’Tis about time.”

  Roran smirked as he reached for the coffee.

  “Well? Where is she?” Sean looked pointedly over Roran’s shoulder.

  “Sleeping.”

  “Still?”

  Another smirk.

  Sean shook his head and smiled. “I always knew when you fell, you would fall hard.” He clasped Roran on the shoulder. “I suppose congratulations are in order, then. What did she think of the bands?”

  Roran lifted the cup to his lips and drank deeply. “I have not shown them to her yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Roran shrugged, a graceful, lazy movement of his shoulders. “It did not come up.”

  “Och, Roran,” Sean said, barely holding his laughter. “It appears that something came up quite often.”

  Roran joined him in laughter. “Aye, my friend. So it did.”

  *

  Brighid awoke, her mind groggy and her body deliciously sore. The hard male warmth that had surrounded and penetrated her throughout the night was noticeably absent.

  “Roran?” she called softly. When no answer was immediately forthcoming, she sat up. Perhaps he had gone to fetch some water or to take care of his personal needs. Brighid crept to the opening of the cave.

  She blinked once, then twice, not quite believing her own eyes. A large fire blazed away, small game roasted on several sharpened sticks over the flames. Her empty stomach growled in loud appreciation of the delicious smells. Sean and Roran stood close to one another, talking and smiling. Kieran and Rhys faced off against each other in mock swordplay. Simon was walking up from the swollen stream with buckets of water. Ian and Cameron were sharpening their blades. And Lachlan was deep in conversation with a man she had never seen before.

  “Princess!”

  It was Simon who spotted her first, greeting her with a huge grin. He knew it annoyed her to no end when he referred to her that way. Conversations ceased as all heads turned to her.

  “Oi!” Kieran yelled, neatly avoiding the swipe of Rhys’s sword. “Come and haul your royal arse out here and make something te break our fast, woman!” There was a brief moment of silence until Brighid smiled and called sweetly, “Get it yerself, ye great brute.”

  It felt good. Familiar. Making camp with these men (she couldn’t even think of them as boys any more) that she had come to know so well. Like a well-oiled series of cogs, they fell into a familiar routine of tasks and chores, teasing and banter. Out here, it didn’t matter what titles they held in Scamallhaven; they all did their part. Brighid wished it could stay this way forever.

  She didn’t know who the stranger was, but she felt like she should know. She found him watching her quite often. Whenever she would turn his way, his features would soften slightly. For the most part, he remained on the fringes. Definitely not a warrior-knight or a king’s man, but he did have a rather hard, lean look about him, as if his life had not been an easy one. Several times he spoke with Roran, but kept his voice quiet enough that she was unable to hear it. She decided she would ask Roran about him later, when she could steal a moment of privacy with him.

  Getting Roran alone was not so easily done. From the moment she had emerged from the sanctity of her little cave – a sanctuary all but Roran were forbidden to enter – one or more of them had seen fit to place themselves at her side.

  Ta
lking was the last thing on Roran’s mind when she finally managed to capture him – or he captured her, as the case was.

  He caged her against the large tree, wasting no time in fitting his body to hers and drinking deeply from her mouth. “I have been waiting to do that all day,” he growled.

  “What have ye done with my steadfast and disciplined knight, ye randy rogue?” she teased breathlessly, twining her arms around his neck. The man knew how to weaken her bones with his kisses.

  He growled again, a rumbling sound that sent delicious shivers of pleasure through the most womanly parts of her. “That man no longer exists. There is only the beast you see before you now, the one who can think of little else but devouring you.” He dropped his head and nipped lightly at her neck for emphasis, even as the hardened length of him pressed into her belly.

  Brighid closed her eyes and tried to commit every part of the moment to memory – the way his hard body pressed against hers. His heat. His masculine scent. The husky sound of arousal in his voice. How she wished it were so, that she meant more to Roran than anything else. But she knew him well enough to know that he would never break a vow, and his bond to Aedan outweighed his desire. Oh, she had no doubt that he hungered for her, but he had already proven that what transpired between them was only acceptable beyond the great walls of Scamallhaven.

  Which also meant that as wonderful as it was, it was only temporary.

  Roran frowned when she began to pull away. “Brighid? Do you doubt my feelings for you?”

  Instead of answering him directly, she posed a question of her own. “Will ye be returning to Scamallhaven, then?”

  Roran narrowed his eyes at her very deliberate use of the word “you”. “Aye. We will. I have told you, Brighid, you belong to me.”

  “Have ye forgotten,” she reminded him quietly once again, “that I am no longer avowed te ye?”

  “No,” he said, clenching his teeth. “I have not forgotten. ‘Tis another vow I wish you to take.” Roran thought of the bands Gavin had crafted for them, sitting securely in his pack in the cave, awaiting their return.

  Brighid dropped her head, knowing it would be impossible to completely hide the moisture his words brought to her eyes. “I willnae be taking any more vows, Roran,” she said shaking her head. Except to the tiny creature she held within her, she silently amended. To her child, she promised to love and protect for as long as she drew breath. It was a vow she wished she had made to Roran as well, before they had met the gates of Scamallhaven, when she was the one who thought she was unworthy of him.

  He stiffened. “Aye, ye will.”

  She pulled deeply upon her courage. Her traitorous heart wanted nothing more than to fold herself into his embrace and believe every word, but it was no longer simply herself she had to worry about. The protection of her unborn began now.

  “Nae, I willnae, not when they are so easily broken.”

  Roran recoiled as if slapped. “I have never broken a vow.”

  “Ye released me from mine.”

  “That is not the same!” he argued. “That vow became void the instant Aedan recognized you as his blood heir. A princess cannot be a knight’s squire.”

  “Nae. But apparently she can be his whore.”

  Brighid took advantage of Roran’s momentary shock to escape his hold and flee far enough out of his immediate grasp to begin climbing one of the nearby trees. Roran was bigger, stronger, and more skilled on the ground, but Brighid was light and nimble and accomplished at climbing.

  “Come back here!” he roared, following her progress on the ground as she agilely leapt from tree to tree above his head. Brighid did not reply, but Roran soon felt the sting of whatever small object she had fitted into her cursed slingshot hit his behind.

  Thankful for her small stature, Brighid used it to her advantage, getting as close as she could to the camp without actually touching the ground. She’d managed to stun Roran for a few moments, but it wouldn’t last long. She could already hear him rushing headlong through the forest, muttering promises of punishments that involved her bare backside turning a glowing red beneath his large palm. Such threats sent shivers down her spine, but not completely out of fear. As a highly-respected knight-warrior, he was used to obedience. Defying him was a thrill; the possibility that she could do so without punishment, exciting.

  Forcing away all thoughts of being splayed across his muscular thighs whilst his hand found repeated purchase on her backside, she climbed higher and hid in the trees, still and silent, biding her time.

  Roran looked up, his keen gaze searching for signs of movement. He would find none; she’d had enough practice to perfect avoiding detection. Brighid remained perfectly still and silent upon her perch, and would until an opportunity to flee presented itself.

  After several long moments, Roran lifted his fingers to his lips, and let out a sharp whistle. Within moments, the others had formed a tight circle around him.

  Brighid looked down upon them. She could hear the murmurs of Roran’s deep voice, along with Sean’s and the man she didn’t recognize. The lads were there, too, occasionally glancing up in hopes of being the one to spot her. It was Lachlan who came the closest, his gaze uncomfortably trained in her direction. She held her breath, still and unmoving, until he finally looked away.

  A few more murmurs, an eruption of masculine laughter. With grunts of acknowledgement, the small team dispersed, each one radiating in a different direction like the spokes of a wagon wheel.

  “What are ye up te, ye rogue?” Brighid asked, her voice joining with the breeze. Then she settled back for what was sure to be one of her most challenging escapes yet.

  ––––––––

  It was quiet. Too quiet. Even the woodland creatures seemed to be watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

  For hours, Brighid had remained silent and still, but there had been no further appearance by any of the others since their meeting earlier. Nor had she heard them. There had been not a voice, not a whisper, rising up toward her perch. No telltale sounds of heavy boots through the damp leaves or the snapping of twigs buried beneath them. In a way, it filled Brighid with a sense of pride. ‘Twas not all that long ago that the lads held all the stealth of oxen who had managed to get into the ale stores.

  When darkness finally fell in earnest, Brighid began to sense that something was wrong. By now she should have been able to see the glow of the campfire, or at least scent the smoke, but there was nothing to break up the inky blackness surrounding her, no scent of anything other than leaves and damp earth upon the breeze. There were no voices, no shouts, no splashes as they washed, nor the twanging of their bows as they procured their evening meal.

  Nothing.

  With infinite slowness, Brighid began her long descent, careful to remain in the natural shadows of the heavy trunk as she wound her way downward, branch by branch. Heavy clouds skittered over the waxing moon; the air was thick and humid with the promise of yet another spring storm.

  Brighid inwardly fought off a quick surge of panic – not for her, but for the others. She had seen firsthand just how quickly the already swollen creek could rise, swallowing everything in its path. If any of them had ensconced themselves in the narrow passageways in the hopes of cutting off her escape, they might find themselves in deadly peril should another deluge hit.

  Brighid cared for them. Despite the fact that she could not live among them, she had no wish to see anything bad happen to them.

  She dropped soundlessly from the final branch, her bare feet making no sound on the bed of dampened pine needles at the base of the tree. Listening carefully, she heard nothing but the far off rumble of thunder.

  The camp was deserted, quiet. The fire had long since been banked. The supplies, the blankets, the cookware, the weapons – gone. She lifted her face and inhaled, just barely catching the slightest hint of horse and leather. Smiling, she turned into the breeze until she had their location. They had relocated to the ridge.
It was an excellent position. From it, they would be able to view nearly all exit routes with a bird’s eye view, and, more importantly, they would be well above any sudden stream flooding.

  Feeling slightly better, she concentrated on their wellbeing rather than the heaviness in her heart at what she once again felt compelled to do – namely – disappear. But this time, it would have to be permanent. She was slowing down, she knew it. Soon she would be heavy with child, and the opportunity would be lost forever.

  It was ironic that she was probably following in her mother’s footsteps. Brighid could only hope that her child would know a better life than she had. She would certainly do everything in her power to make it so, but that was no guarantee. Her mother had probably felt the same way, yet her intentions – no matter how good or strong – had been unable to halt the fever that took her away far too early.

  She would have to be quick – in and out of the cave only long enough to grab a few things – and then be on her way again. They were probably watching it closely, expecting her to do just that. It was a good thing that she had spent the better part of a week learning every entrance and exit.

  Brighid didn’t bother returning to the room she’d occupied before. It had been one of the bigger ones, well-sheltered and conducive to a fire. It was not the first time she’d ever hidden out in caves, however, and she had a life’s worth of experience upon which to draw. One of the more important lessons she’d learned was to always be prepared to make a hasty exit.

  Avoiding the obvious entry, Brighid worked her way around the back and slipped in through what was little more than a crevice (thankful that she was still slim enough to do so). She grabbed one of her previously prepared emergency packs – she’d created several during her nature-induced delay – and was through in less than a few minutes. Selecting a separate exit – just in case someone had managed to catch sight of her on the way in – she wriggled her way through, inch by inch, being careful not to make even the slightest sound. Soon she felt the cool night air upon her face and knew that she had come out on the other side of the rocks. She reached out with her hands and began to pull herself out, grunting softly with effort. No sooner had she gotten her torso free than she felt herself plucked up into a familiar embrace.