What the hell?
Was he a prisoner? A prisoner in a bed with soft white sheets? He fell back against the pillow with a soft groan, weak and trembling, his head throbbing mercilessly. Weak, so damned weak! He would almost rather be dead.
Almost.
One thing was certain, he wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Even if he weren’t tied up.
Why thehellam I tied up?
Struggling to focus his mind, he reached out for his brothers Bren and Eian, but he could not sense them. He was a good distance from Creagmor, then. Or they were dead.
No, not dead. I’d know, wouldn’t I?
When they were within a few miles of one another, he and his brothers could sometimes communicate, in a fashion, with their thoughts. Or at least sense each other’s presence. It was one of the many gifts bestowed on their family long ago.
In truth, he didn’t know how many miles he might have traveled in the underground tunnels, or what had happened since to bring him to wherever he was now. But at least he was alive, which was much more than he had expected when he attacked Mored, the dark sorcerer that plagued the Mac Coinnach clan with his evil ambition for ever more power. Drust had been certain of a fight to the death: his own.
Mored had stolen the enchanted Dragon Ring, and without it, Bren’s soulmate would have been lost to him forever, sent forward to a time where no one could find her. Only the ring could bring her back. Drust had risked his own life to retrieve the ring, unable to watch his older brother suffer so, and figuring it was the best way he could help the clan.
What had happened after he was gone?
Bren had the ring… Drust had ripped it away from Mored and thrown it to his brother. He saw Bren reach for it just as he fell into the depths of the cave. Had Bren been able to use it find his mate again? He hoped so… he had seen his brother’s indescribable pain when he knew she was gone. Felt it like a dark shroud around his soul. Drust knew in that moment that he never wanted to experience anything even close to that. He wouldneverbe so foolish to give away his heart and leave himself vulnerable to such horrible grief. Aye, Bren would think him dead and mourn him, his brother. But that sorrow would pass.Och! Of course it would, because he had not died, after all. But to lose one’s soulmate… he doubted time would heal such pain. No, he was damned happy it was Bren and not him that had such a burden to bear.
Wherever he was now, whatever happened next, Drust knew he had been given a second chance, because he should never have come out of that tunnel alive.But why? He had been ready to give his life for his clan’s future, which he thought would make up for his failure in the past. Now, instead of simply being happy to find himself alive, he felt confused and uncertain. If he had not been meant to give up his life for his clan, what was he meant to do now? Perhaps it was the recent fever, or the too-close brush with death, but he felt… anticipation, almost as if his life was about to take a new turn… as if he was on the verge of something… His mind reeled with his swirling thoughts, threatening to slip back into blissful unconsciousness.
But just as his eyes were about to close, there were light footsteps outside the door, signaling someone’s approach. Drust braced himself for attack, mostly out of long habit, because he knew he was nearly helpless should whoever it was wish him harm.
He remembered the ties at his wrists. His captor? He was as defenseless as a newborn babe, and he didn’t like it one damn bit. Why would someone rescue him only to tie him up… unless they knew who he was and meant to ransom him back to his brother… A low growl began in his throat at that thought, only to be stopped short as the door opened and a woman leaned in to peer through the opening. His anger faded the instant he saw her.
Lovely. Like an angel.
It was her, the lass in his fever dream, or perhaps it hadn’t been a dream after all. Oddly, his heart skipped a few beats as he looked at her.
A glorious smile lit her face when she saw that he was awake, and she pushed the door wider and slid gracefully into the room. His world suddenly seemed to shift a little, the colors in the room grew just a little more vivid… the soft breeze through the window filled with the sweet scent of a forest.
“Well good morn, are you finally awake then?”
Her voice was like honey, sweet and lilting. For a long moment Drust was struck dumb, and could only stare as if she were some sort of an apparition that had unexpectedly appeared to him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her sable-brown hair fell freely around her shoulders, and her eyes were a sparkling deep blue, set above high cheekbones, which were flushed with a soft pink glow. The smile curving her lush lips lit up her whole face as if she glowed from within.
She moved over to the bed and placed a small hand on his forehead as he regarded her. That one soft touch felt like heaven, and he wanted it to go on forever. But she took her hand away all too soon, leaving him feeling strangely bereft. For a brief moment, he forgot that he had just awoken in a strange place with his hands tied to a bed, and a second chance at a life he didn’t know what to do with. And she did that to him only by walking into the room.
“Your fever has broken.”
She sounded relieved, as if she had worried over him.
Ah,wishful thinking.
He was a stranger, and there was no reason she should care about him. And he was a warrior, a Mac Coinnach. He didn’t need tender care from her or anyone.If only she would touch him again!
“What is your name then? I’m Willa. This is my brother’s cottage.”
She spoke with a soft English accent. Was he in England then? The tunnelhadgone on for miles…
“Drust”, he managed. His unused voice sounded hoarse and groggy. Weak. His anger began to rise again. How he despised being weak! The strength of his powerful body was all that was left to him. That and his pride. For God’s sake he would rather be dead than be an invalid! His jaw set hard as the reality and strangeness of his helplessness washed over him.
“Why am I tied?” he managed.
Her gaze flew to where his wrists strained against the ties wrapped around the bedposts.
