Chapter Sixteen

Days. Mere days remained of battling yet another army with a Saracen sword. Camden and Orrin charged into the melee at each other's sides. They were no longer the gawkish boys who had been foreigners in a foreign land. Now they were men, battle seasoned, ruthless, and desperate to remain alive. Freedom would be theirs in a few more days.

He and Orrin fought together in the midst of the carnage, bonded as brothers by all they had suffered; they stumbled over dead men, dying men, slipped on blood-soaked ground, their voices raw from the Scottish war cries they had never left behind.

The holy man who had held them prisoner for six years, three hundred sixty-one days, had sworn to release them. A part of Camden wondered if Shaykh Haashim would keep his word. And still he fought on. He would survive. He would protect Orrin.

This would be the last battle among the great enemy the last battle.

Camden awoke with a start, staring into the darkness, willing his heart to steady its wild cadence. It was only a dream he told himself. He was no longer in the Holy Land. He was no longer a slave. He and Orrin had earned their freedom. Camden lay in his own bed, thousands of miles away from Shaykh Haashim's mad desires. It was only a dream.

The walls of his chamber seemed to be drawing closer. He drew a calming breath, then got up and quickly dressed. He had to leave the chamber, go outside on the wall, walk and look at the land, breathe the fresh, heather-scented air he had come to associate with home. Aye, that was what he needed. Just the thought brought peace to his soul, banished the tumult, blurred the memories he longed to forget.

In that instant, another scented image came to mind one of lavender and lemons. Rhiannon. Perhaps instead it was her scent he needed. Perhaps having her warmth in his arms would vanquish his dreams of the past with the joys of the present.

A knock sounded on the bedchamber door. Rhiannon sat up in the bed and tossed the woolen coverlet aside, wondering what emergency would bring someone to her room so late at night. She snatched up the coverlet and wrapped it about her shoulders, then tucked her newly healed feet into a pair of slippers Mistress Faulkner had provided before she raced across the room and threw open the door.

Camden stood in the hall, dressed in fawn-colored breeches, tall boots, and an ivory linen shirt. His hair was combed back away from his face. The sight of him sent her heart pounding.

He frowned. "You shouldn't open this door to just anyone."

Rhiannon narrowed her gaze. "With Hamish and Travis guarding my door, I doubt anyone with ill intent could make it into the bedchamber."

"You have a point," he replied, stepping inside.

She closed the door softly behind him.

"Were you asleep?" he asked, watching her closely, his gaze a soft caress.

Her breath caught at his expression. "I'm still too unsettled."

"How are your burns? Do they pain you much?"

She shook her head. "It's the most amazing thing." She almost pulled the edge of her nightrail to reveal her shins, then thought better of it. "Whatever was in that tonic you sent to the room made the burns all but disappear."

"Good," he said striding toward her, and slowly encircling her hips with his hands. He pulled her closer, as he had in the cottage.

"If you hadn't arrived when you did..." Her words trailed off as a warm glow rippled through her. Her body wanted desperately to melt against his. Her mind warned her to keep her distance. "I never thought I'd meet my end that way."

"Hush." He pulled her against his chest. Her cheek pressed against the linen of his shirt. His fierce voice vibrated low beneath her ear. "It is in the past."

"I'll be haunted by the memory for the rest of my days," she said.

He pulled back to stare down at her. He simply stared, as though trying to find the right words to say. "Talk about it, then put it to rest."

She hesitated. "What good will that do?"

"Tell me," he persisted.

And so she did, haltingly at first, then in a rush. The words tumbled from her. Her fear. Her feelings of abandonment. Her pain.

He listened, his face impassive, his gaze fixed upon her.

Her words finally slowed, then ceased. And she felt lighter somehow, less burdened. Sharing her terror with him had lessened it. "Thank you for listening."

He said nothing, simply pulled her back into his arms, crushing her to him. She could feel the beat of his heart, as though he'd run for miles instead of standing perfectly still. He buried his fingers in her hair, gently stroking, soothing, until his heart slowed. "Things will be different now. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered against his chest.

"I can keep this promise. I will."

Warmth curled inside her stomach when he returned his heated gaze to her face. "I appreciate your efforts."

A curious half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, making the cleft in his chin more pronounced. "Come with me."

"Where?" Her voice sounded as breathless as she felt. She pulled the coverlet tighter about her. All he had to do was look at her and the world seemed to stop.

"To a special place." His hand slipped from her hip to curl around her hand.

The heat of his touch melted whatever reserve she might have mustered. She nodded, her fingers twining with his. "Will we need an escort?" she asked as they headed for the door.

At his puzzled frown, she added, "Hamish and Travis."

Dark humor lit his eyes. "I bid them to find their beds for the rest of the night."

Her heart leapt with anticipation. She followed him down the hallway, away from the stairs, around several corners, then up a long spiral staircase that led to a bolted door.

"I used to come here as a child," he explained, dropping her hand to pry the thick metal bolt from its latch. He opened the door and motioned for her to proceed. "You can see all the way to the sea from here."

She stepped outside onto the wall walk. The area was deserted except for the two of them. A small watch fire burned in a metal grate nearby, keeping the chill of the night at bay. "Where are your guards?"

His smile turned reckless. "I gave them the rest of the night off as well."

"And the fire? Who set it?" she asked, not really needing an answer as much as she needed a moment to adjust to his nearness. He wanted them to be alone. Understanding softened his smile. "The fires are always set at night to keep the guards warm." He turned to the wall and picked up two small logs from the pile, then added them to the grate. "Now the fire will keep us warm instead."

She moved to stand between two crenellations, gazing out at the silvery light of predawn. Her heart raced. She should return to her room where she'd be safe from her feelings for this man. How many times had her mother warned her that proper young ladies did not walk about unescorted, especially in the dark. Dangerous things happened if they did. God knew her father had ordered some of those dangerous things to happen.

She kept her gaze focused on the landscape, looking out at the sea, when she felt him come up behind her and encircle her with his arms.

Instinctively, she leaned back against his chest. His embrace closed around her, his head resting near her ear. "What are you thinking about, Rhiannon?"

"That I shouldn't be here with you."

He smiled against her temple. "That was honest."

"I am an honest person."

He turned her around in his arms. "To be honest with you," he paused, "I want more of what we shared in the cottage." He slipped the woolen coverlet from her shoulders as his hands skimmed the thin white linen that covered her arms.

The early morning air pressed her nightrail against her body, caressed her limbs, heightening her awareness of her bare skin beneath the thin layer of cloth. His gaze traveled over her tousled hair, the curves of her breasts and hips, to her slippered feet. And again, warmth surged inside her, flowed through her veins, tuning all her responses to the warmth of his touch.

"You are dangerous to me," she replied, making no attempt to move away. "When you touch me I can't think." His lips brushed her temple. "I can't breathe."

She closed her eyes, trying to block the riotous sensations his lips created. The darkness only intensified the effect. She opened her eyes as her power to resist him ebbed away.

"I'll never hurt you."

He would hurt her. He was hurting her now with his soft touch and honeyed words. He would hurt her over and over again, every time he touched her. The kind of magic they shared could never last. She was certain of it. Her heart would break and she'd only have herself to blame.

Today's horrific events had taught her one thing; life was unpredictable. Staring death in the face helped to clarify her desires. And she desired the man who held her in his arms. She would willingly risk her heart to be with him, even for a short while.

The night smelled crisp, fresh snow mixed with the soft scent of heather, bewitching her further as she relaxed against his chest.

His breath hitched at her surrender. "I will stop whenever you say the word," he whispered against her ear as he pulled her forward until the sheer linen of her nightrail pressed against his shirt.

Her nipples hardened.

"We belong together like this, Rhiannon. Let's not fight whatever destiny brought us together. Let's enjoy what we can, without guilt or remorse."

"Resisting you is like resisting the tide." She could feel the heat of his body against hers building like a maddening tension. The muscles of her limbs felt heavy and weak, unable to support her weight.

He pulled her closer and brought his lips down to explore the length of her exposed throat.

She inhaled sharply and a shiver ran through her.

He pulled away from her. Before she could mourn his loss, he hitched himself up on the stone ledge, then brought her forward to stand between his legs.

He lifted her gown to just below her breasts and brushed her flesh with his lips. She groaned at the exquisite feel of his hard cheek against the softness of her chest and her abdomen.

"This is no good," he said and pulled back. A moment later, he stripped his shirt and tossed it to the ground. "I need to feel you against me."

With gentle hands, he guided her chemise over her head. Before her skin had a chance to cool, he pulled her to him again. His head lowered and his mouth closed over her right breast as if he were starving for her.

Rhiannon gasped as a streak of hot fire burned through her. The muscles of her stomach clenched. Boldly, she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him against her, wanting more.

His tongue was so warm, each sensation he wrought robbed her of thought and breath. His lust for her was wildly exciting primal, intense, fierce.

His left hand slid down her abdomen to the thatch of curls surrounding her womanhood and began to rub back and forth. "Your skin is so soft, like nothing I've ever touched before. It makes me want to " He broke off, his voice hoarse. He looked at her with fire in his eyes, warming the blue to the color of the sky on a hot summer's day.

Rhiannon shuddered in response to his stroking. He created a strange ache between her thighs. "Open yourself to me," he commanded, his voice gentle.

She watched with fascination at the acceleration of the pulse at the base of his throat as she opened her stance.

"Wider," he said hoarsely.

She obeyed, and his hand slipped inside the warm, moist folds. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against the most intimate part of her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as unbelievable ripples of sensation spread from his hand to every part of her body.

She arched toward him, into the pulsing manhood that pressed against the fabric of his breeches. She wanted more. She wanted him. Her hand moved down to the laces of his breeches. One tug on the ties set him free.

He jumped down from the ledge and pulled her close, his rigid manhood pulsing against her. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"As sure as I've ever been about anything." She didn't want to stop. She couldn't. She closed her eyes and swayed against him, blocking out all sensation but the feel of his hands on her heated flesh.

He lifted her. "Clasp me with your legs," he commanded, leaning back against the castle wall.

Her limbs encircled his hips. He settled her atop his flesh and he pulsed into her. When he met with resistance he stopped, before thrusting up in one swift stroke. He covered her lips with his to absorb her cry of pain. Rhiannon's entire body tensed. Then the sensation faded as his presence inside her sent waves of heat through every muscle in her body. His palms cupped her buttocks and held her to him.

"So tight." His eyes glazed with an expression of primitive pleasure, and his body trembled, shuddered as he moved her slowly up and down, his breathing coming in sharp gasps. The intensity of his need filled her with a heady excitement and increased her own hunger tenfold.

She clenched around him and heard Camden give a low groan. He lifted her, drawing all the way out and plunged to the heart of her.

Rhiannon arched her neck back and gave a low cry. A hotness she had never known poured through her, merging with him, until they moved as one entity trying to reach ... what?

Then she knew. The knowledge broke over her in a release of rapture that left her gasping and shivering in the aftermath.

He held her to him, breathing heavily, his flesh hot against her own. Even so, his hips still moved yearningly, as if he hadn't had enough of her even though he'd reached his satisfaction.

She'd known the moment she put her hand in his in the bedchamber below that something would happen between them this night. She'd wanted it. But she had never expected this a joining that had been both primal and urgent.

Camden's breathing gradually steadied. "I was too rough." His voice was uneven. "I lost control."

"We both lost control. I had no idea it could be that way." She looked up at him, uncertain of what she would see. "I watched our horses mate once, but this "

Desire, hot and hard, reflected in the depths of eyes. He pulsed inside her, hardening, readying for her once more. "I want you again." His voice sounded pained. "I promise not to be so primitive this time."

She smiled, feeling fully alive for the first time in her life. "I liked primitive."

His eyes darkened. "Then allow me to indulge your primitive instincts again."

Her body barely registered the chill of the morning air as he pulled her to him and set her senses spiraling. By the time they collapsed against each other, the apricot fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, heralding a new day.

"We should go back belowstairs," he said, reluctantly moving away from her to collect their clothing. "The morning guards will be here soon."

Her cheeks flamed as she boldly explored the hardened contours of his body, remembering how his muscles had flexed, reacting to her touch.

With tender care, he placed her nightrail over her head, then wrapped the woolen coverlet about her shoulders. "What are you thinking?" she asked, surprising herself at her boldness.

He smiled the same wicked smile he'd given her last night. "Honestly?"

"Absolutely." She tensed, awaiting his response.

He leaned toward her, his gaze caressing her face. His light blue eyes narrowed with intent. Strange how she first had thought those eyes were icy. "You're beautiful."

Honesty. "Thank you," she whispered, touched by his words.

He kissed her forehead. He held out his hand, his fingers curling protectively around hers.

The blare of a clarion cut through the morning's silence.

Startled, Camden released her hand. He moved back between the crenellations. Rhiannon followed him, followed his gaze.

A group of armed men gathered around the castle's gate. "A call to arms. I must go."

He left her there, alone on the wall walk. A chill crept across her skin that had nothing to do with the light morning breeze.

A call to arms? Against whom?