Below him, as Christiana had predicted, nary a single mortal trod his land other than those who had pledged him their fealty.
Through these eyes he saw everything in details of black and gray. But what he couldn’t see, he could hear, targeting in on the tiniest of movements. Something small scurried for cover and he gave himself over to the need, death on a silent wing. The strike made, one sharp squeal from his victim, and then a mind-obliterating orgasm of pleasure as fresh, warm blood sprayed down his throat and across his face.
He left the corpse behind. He might inhabit the body of an owl, but he had not the beast’s taste for rodent meat.
Instead he once again traveled the air currents, lifting and diving until, as the first rays of light lit the eastern sky, he reached his own window. Once inside, he cast off the form he had chosen, to settle back into his own body.
Opening his eyes, he stretched his limbs, the excitement of the evening’s kill still thrumming through his body, exhibiting itself in a much more human form now. A much more human need.
He wiped a hand across his face and it came away streaked with blood. The need to clean himself wasn’t unusual after one of his shifting trances. He relished it. It only enhanced the experience.
Pushing himself up to stand, he strode across the floor to throw open the door, and called out to his personal guard.
“Have a tub and hot water brought to me.” When the guard’s eyes flickered down toward his swollen manhood, he laughed. “Yes, Ulfr, I’d have one of the maids sent up as well.”
“Brenna, my laird?”
“Yes,” he replied but was struck with another thought. “No! One of the dark-haired lasses, Ulfr.”
“Aye, my laird,” the man replied, hurrying away.
Torquil strolled back into his room, stopping at the bed of cushions on the floor, smiling as he rubbed his hand over his chest.
He would take the little dark-haired maid there. There on the bed where Christiana had lain.
Twenty-two
HAD IT BEENonly this morning Malcolm had wished the sun could delay its assent into the sky, allowing him time to linger with Dani in his arms? Now, at the opposite end of day, he wanted nothing so much as for the sun to hang where it was, forgoing its inevitable disappearance.
Perhaps the biggest disadvantage of a late-autumn assault was the shortness of the days.
Though he’d ridden since before daybreak, both he and his mount had miles left in them. Miles, perhaps, but not the light to cover them safely.
Ah, well. At least he’d made better distance traveling by himself than he could have at the head of an army. And without the worry over the well-being of his men.
At the crest of the next hill, he slowed his mount, stretching his legs and scanning the distance ahead for a likely campsite. Ahead lay a valley, where the setting sun already cast shadows of purple over the land. A stream ran its length, disappearing into a stand of trees.
Cover and water together in one place. That was where he would make his camp for the night. As if his horse sensed his intent, the animal gave the run its all, reaching the trees in short order.
One look at the spot close up and Malcolm knew it had been as much fate as fortune that had led him here. A rowan tree, old and gnarled, spread its limbs out over the stream. Surely a good sign.
With a little effort, he was able to build a fire and set up camp all before the last rays of light deserted him. The moon, which had shined down on him the night before, hid herself this night, concealed in a cloud-filled sky.
Wrapped in his plaid for warmth, Malcolm sat under the rowan, too awake to even consider sleep. He caught up a small piece of branch from the pile he’d gathered and pulled out his knife, idly whittling at the wood to occupy his hands and pass the time.
Fire flickered in the pit before him, and as he stared into the flames dancing to the music of hissing wood, thoughts of Dani spun through his mind. Her eyes, her laughter, her body—they comforted him. Regardless of what fate Skuld had woven for him, he vowed to all the old gods of Asgard he would return to her when this was done. He would claim her for his very own in front of clan and kin.
With a sigh, he allowed his memory to fill with the woman the Fae had sent to him.
If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if he could relive their night together. He felt her as she’d lain beneath him in the shelter of another rowan tree, her eyes filled with want. Want of him.
He heard her laughter as they’d tumbled into his bed after lighting every candle they could find.
He saw her, her breasts heaving as she panted, her skin aglow with the exertion of their lovemaking.
He smiled at the memory of how he’d very nearly disgraced himself the first time he’d taken her, with no more ability to control himself than an untried lad on his first go at a woman. But he’d recovered, and quite nicely, too, redeeming himself throughout the night. Repeatedly.
And Dani!
