| |
Danu took feminine pleasure in Magnus fixing himself at her side while he issued commands to men who came and went from the bedchamber. His concern—clearly the result of the fall Seona had taken—rolled off him in palpable waves. But even more pleasing than the concern of a king was the joy in her heart at the sight of the children.
She couldn’t take her eyes off them. Three, ranging in age from perhaps thirteen to nineteen, brought bucket after bucket of steaming water for her bath. Every thought that ran through their heads showed on their expressive faces as they stole glances at her and at Magnus. Large eyes and rosy cheeks gave away their curiosity as they divided their attention between their task and their audience—except for one blond-haired lad, who carefully avoided looking in her direction or Magnus’s.
These children were among the youngest wolfkind alive. Of all the luxury around her—the ornate furnishings, the warm room, the scent of perfume in the bathwater—being in the presence of these rare little ones was what she treasured most.
It grieved her to recall Hyrk’s gloating over the thinning numbers of her people, especially the females. She’d been tempted not to believe him, but the proof was in the one power remaining to her in captivity. The burst of sheer joy in her breast accompanying a new birth occurred with pitiful infrequency compared to the pang signifying a wolfkind death.
Now that she was here, not merely able to observe her people but to move among them as a fellow mortal, she longed to witness their numbers for herself. She wished to learn how they’d changed in the centuries she’d been imprisoned. She wanted to see their homes, their trades, their feasts and celebrations, their way of worshipping her.
That was not all she wanted. The heat of Magnus, so close to her side and yet not touching her, sent carnal craving spinning like a water spout within her. Broad shouldered and golden maned, he stood with feet planted like a warrior charged with protecting her. His sharp eyes missed nothing as he commanded his servants, guards, and one gray-haired man in armor, whom she suspected was his war chieftain.
Magnus should have appeared out of his element, a warrior king amidst enameled furnishings, lavish silks, and delicate fragrances. A man with his authority should direct his men from a room smelling of armor polish and lined with racks of weapons. But he appeared every bit at ease amidst this feminine luxury as in a war room.
She couldn’t help remembering the kiss they’d shared. The moment of bliss had been as thrilling as it was ill-advised. She hadn’t been able to help herself. It seemed Magnus had been unable to help himself as well, at least at first. Then something had made him draw back. I will not be seduced, he had said.
Words meant to discourage her had instead filled her with a sense of challenge. We shall see about that, she’d thought until he’d intrigued her by mentioning Seona’s past. The poor human had gone from being a prostitute in the human realm to an abused captive in this realm. Danu drew trails with her fingers in the heated water as she wondered again what had become of Seona’s soul. Might the woman be captive again, this time in Hyrk’s dungeon?
Duff! Duff would know. He’d been there with her. If only she could summon him. As a goddess, summoning a Fae was as simple as speaking his name with intent. Even her moonstone had been able to do it once she’d tossed it from Hyrk’s cell. Lacking power, she would not be able to summon him now, but if she could find her moonstone, she could do it. If she found her moonstone, she could restore herself to her deity, but that would accomplish nothing but putting her back in her cell. No. What she needed now was information. She must find her stone and use it to summon Duff. But first, she would treasure the gift the children had brought her and take her first bath in two thousand years.
Magnus left her side, ushering one of his knights toward the open door. She took the opportunity to shed the silk robe he had provided her to cover her torn sleeping gown. The slide of the smooth fabric over her equally smooth shoulders and arms brought her newly-revived carnal awareness to the fore.
As Magnus gestured and conversed with his knight, his powerful back bunched and flexed beneath the fine linen of his shirt. His thickly-muscled thighs pushed at the pleats of his kilt. All his shapes and movements wove a spell of desire around her. Her body, borrowed and foreign, began to respond. Tingles of need circled like faerieflies in her midsection. Her thighs pressed together, capturing at their apex a trickle of moisture.
She frowned. It should not be so. Her love for her people had always been maternal in nature. They were her creation. Her charges. Some immortals chose to ignore differences in station and take moral lovers. She had always looked with disdain on those fools. Not only could such an arrangement cause harm to the mortal, but history proved no good ever came from such affairs.
This mortal body, however, did not care about possible consequences. It did not understand that she was a goddess infinitely high above the mortals surrounding her. It simply wanted, and the wanting churned like a storm with a charge built up over two thousand years.
Between the steam rising from the hipbath and the heat in her belly, she began to perspire. A brush of her hand over her brow brought away dirt and dried blood. Her aches and pains had disappeared, but the evidence of the fall remained in streaks of grime on her skin. She felt gritty and needy, and all the while, the water released its scented heat, beckoning her to step inside and enjoy it.
Without wasting another moment, she lifted the torn undergarment over her head.
At the door, Magnus spoke with his head of household. Daly stood just outside the chamber, only the sleeve of his blue livery visible. “Where has Alexander gone?” he asked. “Seona will have her bath while we wait for Giles.”
The garment cleared her face and pulled free from her tangled hair.
Magnus gestured toward where she stood by the bath and glanced her way just as the silk fluttered from her fingertips to the floor. He’d been about to return his attention to Daly, who was saying something about fetching one of the lads, but instead, his gaze raked over her naked form. “Never mind,” said Magnus. “I’ll see to her bathing.” Without another word, he closed the door on his servant.
It was just the two of them in the chamber now. The only sound came from the crackling of the fire next to the bath. And the rush of breath in her ears. And the pounding of blood through her veins.
Magnus faced her, tall and regal and fully clothed in a crimson kilt and a golden-hued shirt that paled in comparison to the whisky-rich glow of his irises. His gaze darkened to the color of hardened tree sap, making each drop of perspiration chill on her skin.
Never before had nakedness made her feel so—exposed. The sensation should have been unpleasant, especially in this strange body, but the pebbling of her flesh and the tightening of her nipples created a delicious tingling within her.
“How honored I am to have a king assist me in my bath,” she found herself saying in a voice that carried deep, silken notes of craving. Even though there were a dozen reasons not to initiate more touching between them, she extended her hand, shamelessly expecting service like the goddess she was.
Magnus stalked toward her, stopping close enough for her to breathe in his scent of winter forest and black tea. Circling her like a predator, he took her hand in a firm grasp.
Sure and warm, his hold anchored her as she lifted one foot and then the other to step into the copper basin. Creamy heat enveloped her calves and licked over the tops of her knees. The warm floor of the hipbath welcomed her as she sank into the water up to her neck.
Heavens, it’s been so long! A moan parted her lips at the grand sensation.
Magnus released her hand and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Her eyes must have been starving for the sight of manly flesh, because her gaze caressed the tanned, muscled lines of his arms. Up and down. She looked and looked. And lusted.
I am not in my goddess form, she reasoned. In this mortal body, my passion would pose no risk to him.
Magnus plucked a pitcher from a dressing table. “I meant what I said earlier.” His hardened voice pushed at her haze of desire, but it did not quell the temptation to flirt with him. “I will not be lulled into letting my guard down with you. You’ll not get what you’re after.” He dunked the pitcher and motioned for her to lean forward.
She complied, quite liking taking orders from this man. “What is it you think I’m after?” Warm water sluiced her head like a halo of comfort.
“It is no secret.” Lathered fingers went to work gently massaging her scalp. Between Magnus’s touch and his deep voice, she found herself slipping into relaxation. “You’ve made your desire plain from the moment I brought you out of Saroc. You long to return to your human realm. You so despise me and my people that you risked death today.” His voice tightened at the end, his words clipped and precise.
Seona wanted to return to her human realm. Seona had not tolerated the presence of this majestic man. But these things were not true of her. In fact, quite the opposite. She wished to remain here and learn the secrets of what had transpired today. She wished to restore herself to her deity and then to her people, to be their goddess once more. She wished to destroy Hyrk. More than anything, she wished to explore these long-dormant feelings with her king.
The pain of rejection cloaked Magnus, and still, he was gentle with her, washing her neck with careful strokes. She did not like him being in pain. She was annoyed with Seona for the way she had treated him. The woman must have been daft or blind not to see what a fine companion Magnus would make for even the loftiest of mortals.
Seona was in pain too, said her heart. Perhaps she is still in pain if she is locked in the place where I should be.
Danu wished for a solution to Seona’s suffering if, in fact, the woman still suffered. She wished for a solution to Magnus’s pain. She could not help Seona at the present. But Magnus was another story. He was here and warm and hurting, and she could provide comfort.
“Perhaps I have changed my mind,” she said.
His hands paused in their washing. She turned to look at him, finding weariness and resignation written in fine lines around his eyes.
“You do not believe me.” She turned to kneel in the water, putting her face to face with the squatting king who bathed her like a servant. Her upper body chilled as droplets made crystalline rivers over her breasts. She touched his face. “You have known little comfort of late,” she surmised. “I would like to give you comfort.”
He cocked a doubtful eyebrow. He still didn’t believe.
Mortals provided skepticism freely and faith sparingly, especially those who had known much sorrow.
“Will you not accept comfort from me when you so clearly need it?” she said, taking his face in her hands. His beard cushioned her palms with masculine warmth.
He relaxed into her hold but only for a moment. Straightening away from her touch, he said, “In the last months I have learned to question everything. Nothing is the way it seems. Not my allies, not my counselors, not my friends. Not even you. Your newfound acceptance of me, despite what I wish—” He smiled sadly. “Is not what it seems.” Cupping her shoulders, he turned her back into the bath.
With a huff of frustration, she plopped back down. Her desire sifted away, leaving a nugget of regret. She regretted that she would have no answer to her carnal need. She regretted that she couldn’t reveal to Magnus who she truly was. She regretted that Magnus would not accept the solace she offered. She regretted that he was so scarred by how Seona had treated him that she could not inquire about the insults he had just mentioned. His allies, counselors, and friends had all betrayed him. How alone he must feel! Here she was longing to share his burdens, but he had no trust left to give.
The tangled situation was enough to make her body tense up.
“There it is,” Magnus said. “How you really feel. You cannot bear my touch.”
“No!” She whirled to face him. “You misunderstand.”
A knock sounded at the door, followed by Daly’s muffled voice. “Sire, Giles has arrived. Shall I show him in now?”
Magnus stood and dried his hands on a folded linen. “Not quite yet, Daly.” He strode to the door. When he stepped outside and closed it behind him, all opportunity to ease his pain disappeared.
