He couldn’t help but huff in amusement. “I find compromise difficult, at best, and impossible almost always.” By all the powers of the mighty Draig, he ached for her, wanted her with a raging fury, but the morning had weighed heavily on her. It showed in her eyes, in the set of her shoulders, in the barest bit of breathlessness as she stared up at him like a hungry wee beastie. He wanted her, but his selfishness shamed him. He didn’t wish to cause her harm or any more marked weariness.
“I’m breathless because I want you so badly,” she said as if reading his mind. “Remember what Mairwen said? I’m getting stronger”—she shuddered—“or something to that effect.”
That decided it. He caught hold of the neckline of her shift, rent it in two, and tossed the halves away. “Much better.” While nibbling his way across her bare shoulder, he picked her up and carried her to the bathing solar and kicked the door open. “I’m thinking time together in the healing waters is the balm we both need.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist and held tightly to his shoulders. “For once, we are in agreement.” Then she plucked at the seams of his tunic. “Except you’re still dressed, and you ruined that lovely linen nightgown that Albionna made.”
“Albionna can make another,” he said as he thought his clothing away. Stepping down into the pool of warm, soothing water, he settled her astraddle his lap after seating himself on the ledge. A low rumbling groan escaped him as she wiggled down in place, welcoming him back inside the hot, tightslipperiness of her bliss. “We shall take our time this time, my love.”
“Did you lock the door?”
Cupping the pleasing roundness of her breast in one hand and the cheek of her perfect arse in the other, he smiled. “No one will interrupt us unless they wish to die.”
She paused in her slow, purposeful rocking and arched a brow. “You’re joking—right?”
“I never jest when it comes to pleasuring the one of my heart.”
Facedown on the most comfortable massage table she’d ever experienced, Lyla closed her eyes as Albionna rubbed copious amounts of delicately perfumed oils into her skin. The light floral notes and refreshing scents of crisp, clean green grasses soothed her, relaxing her even more. “Does Magnus have someone to take care of him as nicely as you take care of me?”
“Stoorin sees to the chief, Divine One. He prepares him for battle as we speak.”
Every fiber within Lyla shot to high alert. Relaxation was officially over. They’d just loved away hours in the healing waters. He had to be as exhausted as she was, and she’d caught a short nap before Albionna woke her for a massage and to help her dress. She shoved up onto her elbows and twisted around to stare at the maid. “What do you mean,prepares him for battle? I still need to go over the musical instruments Mairwen and Keeva brought. They need my music to have any hope of winning.”
Draping a warmed linen sheet around Lyla’s shoulders, Albionna steadied her on the table, then offered her a tankard of water to sip. “While ye slept, Lord Darkmist sent word tothe chief that Ipsillian and Hellys found a weakness in the wall. They are most optimistic that the battle can be won without yer involvement, which had the chief gravely worried.”
Clutching the sheet to her chest, Lyla hopped down off the table, vigorously scrubbed away any residual oil, then tossed the cloth aside, not caring that she stood there naked. “I need clothes. Now. Pants, if you have them. I don’t have time to dress in the endless layers of linen and wool or gowns of even more infinite yardage. Dress me in armor like the chief. Is that possible? If you can create an entire wardrobe in a matter of hours, can you suit me up in pants, boots, and a shirt really fast? And a jacket with lots of pockets. I need lots of pockets because I fully intend to carry as many musical instruments with me as I can. Hopefully, Mairwen brought some smaller ones I can conceal. Or loud ones. Or all of the above.”
The maid eyed her, backing away as if Lyla possessed some sort of disease. “I dinna think that wise, Divine One. Not without the MacRaith knowing and granting me his permission.” She gave a determined nod. “He wants ye safe. Both yerself and the babe.”
Lyla refused to be stopped. She needed Magnus safe just as badly. “Fine. I’ll dress myself in whatever I can find, but I hope you know that I’d be stronger and safer if you dressed me in something as I described.” Still naked, she charged out of the solar and into the dressing room, praying she’d find something close to what she wanted. Maybe she could trade clothes with a servant or something. Some of the young boys who’d brought in peat blocks and wood for the hearths had been about her size. She could wear their clothes.
“When are Malik and Brodie coming back with more fuel for the fires?” she called out over her shoulder as she tossed open the lids to the trunks and started pawing through the contents.
“Why?” Albionna came in behind her, dodging the clothes Lyla held up to consider, then tossed aside. “The hearth baskets have plenty of fuel.”
“I don’t need fuel. I need the boys’ cloths. I’m going to wear them.”
“Ye will not, Divine One! I will not have it said that I allowed my mistress to dress in the rags of one of the chamber lads.”
Lyla whirled around and faced her. “Then dress me in what I asked for. Pants. Tunic. Knee or thigh-high boots. Lots of pockets. A belt. And a scarf to tie my hair back out of my eyes. All black if you’re taking requests for colors. And a bit of a heel on the boots. It’ll make me look taller. More intimidating.” She yanked open the doors to the nearest wardrobe and started pawing through the colorful and delicate silks and linens that just wouldn’t do.
Spotting something black hanging on a hook at the back, between the shelves, she pulled it out and held it up. A cloak. A heavy cloak with a thick, woolly collar and a hood. It would be warm, but also cumbersome and might slow her down. She’d keep it out, just in case. Hopefully, she’d find something that would grant her more freedom of movement.
“Here, Divine One.” Jaw clenched in an unhappy scowl, Albionna shoved a bundle of black clothing into her arms. “Our chief will surely send me to the abyss, and truth be told, I will belong there.”
“You do not, and he will not.” Lyla caught hold of the maid by the shoulders. “I won’t let him because I don’t trust anyone else to take care of me, and will throw nine kinds of fits if he even suggests getting rid of you. And trust me, he can’t handle my nine kinds of fits.” She pulled on the clothes, amazed that Albionna had tailored them within moments of hearing their description. “You are an absolute wonder. This is perfect, and exactly what I had in mind.”
Black leather boots that reached well above her knee—a little bit of a heel but still low enough that she could run, jump, and maneuver however she needed. Black pants that were kind of like denim but not really. She couldn’t decide what kind of material they were. All she knew was they fit like a dream and enabled her to move as easily as wearing leggings or joggers. A belted, oversized tunic and a multi-pocketed utility jacket that would go viral if she ever took it back to her twenty-first century reality and posted a picture of it on social media.
“Thank you so much, Albionna. This means everything to me.” Lyla tried to reassure the maid with a confident smile, but the efficient Selkie wasn’t having it. It was more than a little obvious that Albionna felt she had betrayed her chief. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“I find little comfort in that, Divine One.” With a disapproving sniff, the scowling servant made a show of straightening the seams of the jacket across Lyla’s shoulders as if critiquing the fit.
Lyla wished she had time to console the maid, but an ominous urgency nipped at her. She had to hurry, or she’d be too late. The weakness in the poison wall was a trap. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. “Where are the instruments Mairwen and Keeva brought? Still in the solar?”
“Aye.”
Heady with the freedom of her new clothes, Lyla ran to the other room and started going through the stack of black cases, round wooden boxes, and leather crates. How in the world had Mairwen and Keeva carried all this stuff? She huffed at her own ridiculousness. Magic, of course. How did anyone around here accomplish nearly everything?
