“Shall I journey with you?” Her tone was as groggy as she. Being loved by her knight had left a trail in being completed sated.
Warm arms captured her close. “Nae, rest; I shall have Callum or Sir Brayden stay watch outside till my return.”
She yawned the word, “Aye.” He gave a chuckle, planted a tender kiss onto her bruised lips after their efforts to stay quiet in their mating, and stood, fetching his tunic lying over the chair.
Giving another satisfied purr, she settled back beneath the blanket to sleep.
***
Ow!Oh, ugh.
Raging hell! What was the sharpness pressing her wrist? An eye popped open, discovering her arm had fallen off the pallet’s edge onto a thistle.Odd. That was not there when she had been stomping about the tent earlier; how had it sprung up and bloomed in but hours? Or had it been hidden under the pallet the whole time, only now revealing itself after Aonghus’s avid thrusts moved the straw-filled bedding over? She snatched her hand back when a single drop of blood traveled her wrist after pricking from the robust thorn below the ripe, massive bloom which would make any plum proud in color or size.
As she clutched her hand, the tent flap opened.
“Cluaran…” Aonghus summoned while he paused, looking at her. “Cluaran, you are awake.”
She gasped when the tent’s section behind her burst wide. Who was trying to invade their tent?!Whizz.Something whipped through the air, hitting her skull’s backside as darkness crashed over her.
***
Her temple hurt worse than ever. Where…what…Her eyes flew open when the memory struck, the same as the blow had to her head. NO! Aonghus was on his knees steps from her in their tent. A fresh cut above his eye was trickling a tiny crimson waterfall down his square jaw, which was clenched at his rage by those who occupied the tent, standing about them like stone watchtowers. Northmen!
She moved.No, what…Her own wrists were bound behind her back the same as her knight’s and Callum’s and Sir Brayden’s, who kneeled across from her. It had to have been a fierce battle; blue bruises new as blaeberries in spring graced Callum’s and Sir Brayden’s cheeks.
If only she could ask what happened, but all three Scotsmen had tight gags tied about their mouths, looking the same as stallions chomping at the bit. All northern warriors present still huffed. The battle must have been fresh. Her attention swung toward the tent’s entry as her heart dropped. They were in raging hell. Svørn.
He gave a twisted grin at her. “Good eve, Lady Keirah.” Then he looked at a crewman she recognized from Kollungr’s ship. “Tell him we may commence, she has roused.”Tell who? It can’t possibly be…
Her word announced on a breath in shock at the Northern falcon entering. “Fálki.”
A strong cut graced his forehead, which was furrowed while he stared at her. “Good eve, my Keirah.” He cocked a brow higher. “You were given fair warning I would have you in my bed and his” – he paused, pointing toward Aonghus, who glared at him – “massive hide hung onto my wall. Did you truly think a storm would keep me from you? We are fated. Why else do you consider I discovered your concealed talent that day in the burgh? It was shown to me, as a gift for me, my dearest Keirah.” What would he unleash on them when he discovered the fate-seer had been crushed in her love for Aonghus?
Lord Kollungr darted his eyes about the tent. “I believe this is the first time you lack words, Keirah.”
She retorted inwardly,You are going to be lacking a fate-seer.
“I had considered your worries would be aired briskly regarding the state of your king. He is cared for” – a menacing grin curled the Northman’s mouth as he spoke – “for the moment. I must extend my greatest appreciation to you all.” His arms flew wide like a falcon’s wings in flight. “If not for the efforts given, I would never have found myself at a juncture in time such as this.”
He hobbled a step toward her; Aonghus began fighting the ropes which tied his wrists to his ankles, forcing him to remain on his knees, trapped. “Calm, Sir Aonghus” – Kollungr paused to eye the adversary – “lest I must order Svørn to inflict more pain, as he yearned to bestow after you cracked that damn chain across both our legs. Now” – he looked back at her – “all this time you kept warning my lord King Håkonsson of his impending demise if he sought your shores. I was rather stunned you were able to declare my partaking of the loot in coin which should have fallen to his hand. Weakness has always been your strongest signature.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You mistake kindness for weakness.”
“I mistake nothing, Lady Keirah,” he corrected her. “Still, I was rather astonished at the turn by your hand. Taking me from that ship saved me to stand before you now. I have a freshly laid plan by your unknown efforts. King Håkonsson has doomed his forces to failure. They scatter your shores – a fate I am certain you knew but failed to share with me. An oversight I shall look past given the greater prize it has unleashed.”
She blinked hard while her skull’s back throbbed. She opened her eyes.There, only one northern falcon, no longer two.“Do tell, Fálki,” she retorted dryly. “You always savor listening to the sounds of plans for your favor, nae matter who carries the greatest cost to make it so.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Stubborn Scottish blood runs those veins; ’tis good, you will need this upon our next topic.” She inwardly cringed as her eyes darted fearfully toward Aonghus. “Attentionhere, my lovely lady! Not on your knight.” She narrowed her gaze back at the orator. “Where were we? Ah, the plan. King Håkonsson’s rule will halt – you have declared it so more than once – thus leaving a fresh reign to be claimed.”
“By his heir.”
“You are mistaken, Keirah; his heir is weak.” Kollungr spat the last word. “Those surrounding him always hail him as a peacemaker. No, weak!” He straightened his shoulders. “The next King of Norway stands before you. I shall succeed where so many others have failed, including Duke Skule.” Her eyes widened. “The timing is perfection. ’Twas the purpose the duke failed; King Håkonsson was young and strong in his rule, a place of power in his grasp. My power lies here.” He pointed toward where King Alexander was in the encampment. “I have your King of Scots tethered in his tent. As we speak, I have a missive sent to the shoreline for a certain knight I believe you to be quite well acquainted with – Sir James. I have heard he has arrived with fresh forces on a final press toward your King Alexander – those few Northern warriors who have not perished in the storm. Think of it, Keirah, the high lords of Norway. Once they hear I have delivered the King of Scots into their grasp, all for the price of a throne, Sir James, as the messenger, will make this possible. A Scottish knight turned, not duke as Håkonsson offered, but by my hand Sir James shall be bestowed a Kingship of the Isles once I am King of Norway. It all holds within my grasp.” He extended his hand to make a fist in the air before the knuckles on his fist brushed her cheek. “Only given by your efforts in being a fate-seer.” Aonghus growled at the action while she turned her cheek away from the captor’s touch.
“Onto the next matter.” She met the enemy’s piercing gaze as he sharpened his talons on descent. “You shall tell me how it was possible upon my ship to know your knight would have met his doom if not for your warning.”
Never-ever!She pursed her lips – shut.
“Ah, there is the stubborn Scottish blood once more.” He grinned. He never grinned when she defied him; her throat closed as if his hand were squeezing it. “Another rare turn is upon us. All those years past, I was only able to call upon pain toward you in my quests. Now?” He darted his eyes toward the three bound souls across the tent. “Who do I choose first?” Svørn gave a low snicker under his breath. “Time is pressing, so I believe I shall have to go with the one you hold most dear. Svørn, loosen the lady’s tongue.”
