Page 102 of Luthias

Once he was out of sight Callum changed direction and climbed up from the forest into the eastern slopes, where he saw the silhouette of a sage waiting on the other side of the MacRoss boundary. He kept out of sight as he made his way to him, stopping only to survey the western ridge for any patrols before he came out into the open.

Struan pulled back the hood of the sage’s robe he wore and regarded him without expression. “Well, my lord? Do you yet tire of playing woodsman?”

“Dinnae you care for playing laird?” he countered. “I’ve found no trace of Athdara anywhere on MacRoss land. One of the maids who brings food to the camp claims she’s no’ at the castle, and she’s no reason to lie.” He considered telling him about the pit trap he’d fallen in, and the dreamstone dust that had nearly knocked out him and Emery, but his brother would only insist he return to the stronghold. To admit he’d almost been brought down by a MacRoss poacher trap didn’t set well with him, either. “What of Dun Deigh and the clan?”

“The court has ordered a number of baubles for the queen, who shall deliver a son for the king any day now, or die trying.” His brother looked past him. “Tavish stole a message from Francia, penned by Luthias’s turncoat brother. The traitor intends to return before the first frost to settle accounts with the clan. Mayhap we should let him do his worst in our stead.”

“I reckoned Kendric dead by now.” Callum thought for a moment. “He’ll need hire a horse to travel from the docks. Purchase the public stables and place watchers in them. I want to ken the moment he steps foot back in Scotland.”

Struan looked amused now. “You mean to kill the MacRoss black sheep?”

“He’s a blade for hire. I mean to buy him. If I cannae, then mayhap I shall kill him. He’s the kind of fighter who turns battles to his favor.” Something looked different about his younger brother, and he had to walk around him before he saw what it was. “You’ve parted with your braid.”

“’Twas the last remnant of my boyhood vanity.” Struan ran a hand over his blunted mane. “Shall I dye my hair black?”

“Then you’d look like...a fool,” he said instead of what he meant. That secret, like a few others his sire had imparted to him, was meant for only the laird. “I must return to work, but you should ken something I’ve seen.” As he told him about the sheltering cave with its gruesome constructs Struan’s smile faded. “’Twould seem the crazed fack didnae die.”

“Aye, but to be found now, and recently done.” His brother’s expression turned bleak. “The bone cobbler, he must be a halfling like us.”

Callum nodded. “’Twould seem he’s a MacRoss.”

“We’d ken if so. Mayhap he belongs to neither clan.” Struan nodded toward the west. “Before they settled here to build the first strongholds the princes roamed the highlands and the north for years. They wouldnae have been monks, either. The crazy fack could be one of their by-blows.”

“’Twould be naught for a half-Fae to hide among mortals. He’d simply have to move along before anyone noticed he doesnae age––or mayhap use an excuse to travel about every few seasons,” Callum said, nodding.

“Aye.” His brother frowned. “Much like your woodcutter friends. Why do you speak as if you’ve considered such a life?”

“Ask me again after I’m done here,” Callum said, and turned to go. He hesitated, and glanced back at Struan. “The dreamstone we’ve mined––’tis kept locked away?”

The war master nodded. “Aye, Reothadh took charge of the whole supply to keep the younger sages from squabbling. Why ask you?”

The only source of dreamstone were the Carack’s mines, or so Callum had assumed. “’Tis naught of importance. Go back safely.”

“My lord.” Struan bowed. “And you.”

Chapter Twelve

Emery couldn’t quite believe she’d just ordered the laird of the MacRoss to make love to her as a reward. Then again she’d waded into the loch and almost drowned herself to save him, so maybe it was just her day to go completely out of her mind. When she looked into his beautiful eyes, however, it felt as if everything she had been through had brought her to this moment.

I didn’t save him. He saved me.

“Am I crazy?” she whispered.

“My lady.” He kissed the tip of her nose, and then brushed his lips over hers. “’Tis brave to love, no’ crazy.”

With the sunlight pouring down on them he looked like he had been dipped in gold, she thought as she reached up and touched his mouth with her fingertips. Fate or chance or a mistake had brought her to his time, but she belonged right here, in his arms. Everything else in her head faded away.

“Tell me why now,” he prompted.

“Why? Hmmm. It’s not because you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Or that I’ve been thinking about being with you like this since you found me in the armory. I do know all the reasons we shouldn’t get involved.” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “I thought you died on me.”

“Mery.” He rubbed his face against her palm.

“Anyway, I’m not going to waste another minute thinking about what I should do. I want to do this.” Emery pulled his head down and kissed him the way she had always wanted to, with all the pent-up frustration and need pouring from her now.

Luthias’s big hands cradled her face, and he made a low, deep sound in his chest. His big hard body pressing on hers made it hard to breathe, but the weight of him felt so good she didn’t care. She felt hot and achy and wild, and when he rolled over onto his back she straddled his hips and rocked against the long, hard bulge in his trews.

Emery wasn’t a virgin, but what she knew about sex had been limited to a couple of boyfriends and a few less than exciting experiences, for which she was probably to blame. Luthias, on the other hand, had probably been with hundreds if not thousands of women over the last nine centuries.