Across the clearing, the mound of fur that was his brother rolled over and curled into a ball.
“Sleep, little brother,” Malcolm whispered into the wind, sending the words like a prayer to be heard by the gods.
Or at least by one god. Well he could use Odin’s favor this night.
In spite of the plans he’d gone over with Dermid as they’d eaten their cold meal, he had no intention of risking his brother in his attempt to free Christiana. He would not sacrifice one sibling for another. Instead, he would wait until he was sure the boy slept and then he would be on his way to do what must be done.
Though he’d shared the scope of his plans, he had intentionally misled his brother on the timing. That Dermid believed they would begin their assault on Tordenet Castle at first light further served to convince Malcolm that his brother was no warrior. Only a fool would forgo the cover of a moonless night.
Nose cocooned in the warm furs, he waited, his mind drifting to thoughts more pleasant than what he would face in but a few hours.
A sparkle of colors shimmered and coalesced in his mind, forming itself into a vision of Dani. Her visage wavered across the backs of his closed eyelids as if he watched her moving directly in front of him, as if he were looking through a hole into his own chamber at Castle MacGahan. She stood by his bed, gently gliding her hand across his pillow before she shouldered out of her robe and climbed under the covers.
It was as if he could feel the warmth of her body next to his, stretched out against him, one slender foot tracking its way up and down his calf.
He kept his eyes closed tightly, fearing the sensation would fade at any moment.
In the vision, he pulled back the blankets covering Dani’s body and grasped the hem of the gown she wore, lifting it up and over her head and tossing it to the floor. He skimmed his lips down the soft skin of her cheeks and neck to bury his face between her firm, rounded breasts. Her breath caught with a gasp and her back arched even as tiny shiver bumps arose on her skin.
Never would he tire of her body’s instant reaction to his touch.
Willingly she opened to him as he slid a hand across her belly and down to the juncture between her legs. A soft moan was his reward when his thumb began a lazy circle against the small, hard nub that inflamed her desire. A soft moan that inflamed his desire as well.
One finger and then two he dipped inside her heat, continuing the motion he had begun.
Her hips lifted from the bed and the walls of her sheath clenched rhythmically around his fingers, even as she grabbed for his hands.
“Now, Malcolm,” she panted as she pulled him to her. “Now is the time.”
His head jerked forward and his eyes flew open.
A moment of panic assailed him as he realized he’d foolishly allowed himself to drift off, dreams of the woman he wanted holding him captive in the arms of sleep.
A quick scan of the sky reassured him that he’d dozed for a thankfully short time. Obviously, Dermid hadn’t been the only one to taste the exhaustion of their strenuous journey.
He stood, allowing the night air to cool the heat that throbbed through his body. Heat that had nothing to do with the furs he’d wrapped around himself.
A check across the clearing showed no movement from the mound of furs that covered his brother. It was the moment he’d awaited.
As quietly as possible, he gathered his sword and his pack and slipped away from the circle into the sheltering cover of the night.
He was close enough now not to need his mount. He’d make better time on foot. The ground he covered as he neared his destination would be treacherous for the large animal, and he’d have nowhere to safely hide the horse when he did enter the castle.
Stealth was his ally this night. Stealth and the secret entrance to Tordenet Castle his father had shown him after a hunting jaunt on his twelfth birthday.
Since Dermid had been unaware of the entrance when he’d mentioned it as they’d gone over their plans, he had reason to hope no others would know of its existence either.
Time would tell.
The outline of Tordenet Castle loomed ahead of him and he circled to the north, keeping to the cover of stone and brush as he made his way to the rock face at the water’s edge. Slipping and sliding on the gravel, he lowered himself over the rim to hunt for the brush-shrouded entry to the tunnel his father had shown him.
Nothing had changed, allowing him to locate the well-hidden entrance without much effort. The underbrush had the weathered appearance of undisturbed growth—all the more reason to feel confident in his plan.
If only he could muster the actual confidence all the signs would seem to indicate was warranted.
Instead, the mark on his chest burned a warning of friction as if a million midges beat their wings against his skin.
Worry about the brother he’d left behind, no doubt. Worry about the sister residing within these walls.
