Midnight Pleasures

Part One CHAPTER 7

"Not here?" Ronin frowned. "Where has she gone?"
Dugald and Mara exchanged worried looks.
"She's not ill?"
"Nay, nay," Dugald said quickly. "She's not ill."
"Then where is she? I promised to take her walking this forenoon."
"You might as well tell him the way of it," Mara said, her tone laced with anger. "Sure and he'll find out sooner or later."
"Tell me what?" Ronin asked sharply. He looked from Dugald to Mara, his concern growing. "Has aught befallen her?"
Mara blew out a sigh of exasperation. "I was ill, as you know," she said, her words falling hard and quick. "Dugald summoned the wizard to heal me."
Ronin nodded. It was obvious that Mara was now enjoying good health. "What has this to do with my Channa Leigh?"
"The wizard demanded her company for one year in exchange for my healing."
Ronin's eyes grew wide. "She's there, with him?' he exclaimed. "In the castle? Alone?"
Dugald nodded.
"You let her go?" Ronin asked in disbelief. "Did you not think to consider my feelings?"
"Of course I did," Dugald replied. " 'Twas Channa Leigh's decision to go."
Ronin blinked, and blinked again. "I dinna believe you."
" 'Tis true nonetheless. I forbade it, but she vowed she would go. The wizard would accept nothing else."
"But... what will he do to her?"
Mara shook her head. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Sure and it would have been better that I died than she go with the lord of Darkfest Castle."
"Nay," Dugald said, quickly crossing himself. "Dinna speak of death."
"I canna help it," Mara said, and as if a dam had burst deep inside her, tears flooded her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She looked at the two men, no longer trying to hide her sorrow or her fear for her daughter's life.
"I'm sure she's well," Dugald said, discomfited, as always, by his wife's tears.
Ronin nodded. "Of course she is," he said hastily.
"But the stories..." Mara sobbed, unable to go on.
"Well, 'tis sure I am that they're naught but tales told to frighten children," Dugald said.
Ronin nodded again. "Aye, my mother told them to me oft enough when I was a lad."
Mara collapsed into a chair, her face buried in her apron.
Dugald looked at Ronin and shrugged.
"What do you really think he'll do to her?" Ronin asked, keeping his voice low so Mara could not hear.
"I dinna know. There have always been tales told of the lord of Darkfest Castle, but I've never known anyone who has actually come to harm at his hands."
With that dubious bit of comfort Ronin took his leave, determined to find out for himself how Channa Leigh fared at the hands of the wizard. She had been promised to him, and that made her his, as his horse and his crossbow were his. And he kept what was his.
It was a long walk up the mountainside. Time and again, Ronin ran his hand over the hilt of his sword. No man he had ever met could best him with bow or blade. No man would take Channa Leigh. She had sworn to be his wife, and a betrothal was as binding as a marriage; he would not share her with another, not even with the wizard of Dark-fest Keep.
The castle rose like a sleeping beast at the top of the mountain. Hewn of gray stone, it was a forbidding place, surrounded by tall trees.
Ronin paused when he reached the door, some of his courage deserting him as he gazed at the life-size wolf's head carved into the dark wood. It was remarkably lifelike, so much so that he wouldn't have been surprised if the creature had growled at him.
Chiding himself for his foolishness, he rang the bellpull, heard the sound echo and re-echo through the interior of the castle.
Moments passed. Impatient, he rang the bell again.
And then the door opened, and he found himself looking up into the face of the lord of Darkfest Castle.
"What do ye want?" the wizard demanded, his voice brusque.
"I've come for Channa Leigh."
"Indeed? Who are ye?" Darkfest asked, though he knew full well who the boy was.
"I'm Ronin the hunter," he replied, his voice overloud. "Channa Leigh is my betrothed."
"Come back in a year."
"Nay. I will take her away with me now." Ronin met the older man's gaze, refusing to be intimidated by the wizard's size and reputation.
"She is to be mine for this year," Darkfest said, his voice implacable. "I willna release her one day sooner." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Be gone now, lest I turn ye into a newt."
A shiver of unease slithered down Ronin's spine, but he had come too far to turn tail and run. He was a hunter, a warrior, with a warrior's pride. Better to die with honor than be branded a coward.
Darkfest smiled faintly as he read the younger man's thoughts. Foolish youth, he thought, ready to die rather than surrender. Almost, he felt sorry for the boy. He could extinguish his life with the wave of his hand. It was a tempting thought, more so when he imagined the boy wed to Channa Leigh, taking her to his bed, planting his seed within her.
A wave of jealousy swept over him. Hardly aware of what he was doing, he had lifted his hand, ready to strike the boy down, when he heard Channa Leigh's footfalls on the floor.
He took a deep breath, willing himself to be calm.
"Channa Leigh!" Ronin called. "Are you all right?"
She moved unerringly toward the open door, causing Darkfest to marvel at her ability to get around the castle unaided. She had a remarkable memory, he thought, that she should so quickly have memorized the design of the place.
"Ronin," she said, her voice warm with welcome. "What brings you here?"
"I've come to fetch you home."
"Home?" she asked, alarmed. "Why? Is something wrong?" Her hand went to her throat. "Mama's not sick again?"
"Nay," Ronin said quickly. "All is well. 'Tis only that I've come to claim what is mine."
"I dinna understand."
"You dinna belong here," Ronin said, his courage asserting itself once more.
"Oh, but I do," she said softly. "For one year, I belong to Lord Darkfest."
"Nay! I'll not have you staying here, alone with him."
"I gave him my word, Ronin," she said. "Would you have me break it?"
"Ye have yer answer," Darkfest said, his voice like the rumble of a coming storm. "Go home."
"Fare thee well, Ronin," Channa Leigh said.
He stared at her a moment, wanting to argue, wanting to rush in and take her away by force, but he knew about honor and, in the end, he turned and started back down the path that led to the village.
Darkfest closed the door, then turned and faced Channa Leigh. "So," he said, "is that the boy yer going to wed?"
"He's no a boy," Channa Leigh said defensively. "He's a man full-grown, and a brave hunter."
Darkfest scowled, annoyed by the note of admiration in Channa Leigh's voice, jealous at the way she jumped to the boy's defense.
" 'Tis a beautiful day," he growled. "Would ye care to go outside?"
"Oh, yes."
"Come, then." He took her hand, noting the way she flinched at his touch. Did she flinch when that boy touched her, or did she fall into his arms, eager and ready for his caresses?
Jealousy was an emotion he had not known before; the depth of it surprised him as much as the source. To think that he, the lord of Darkfest Keep, was jealous of a callow youth. It was unthinkable, and yet it was true.
He guided her through the castle toward the door that led into the rear yard. Tall trees cut in fanciful shapes grew along the high stone wall. Plants and flowers bloomed here in rich abundance, nourished by the strength of his power. He had fresh fruit and vegetables the year round. He raised no animals, ate little meat save that which the villagers brought him.
Peacocks strutted in the sunlight; turtledoves nested in the tops of the trees.
Holding Channa Leigh's hand, he walked her through the yard, describing the trees, the plants, the flowers, the birds. She listened intently and he saw the yearning in her face, the desire to see it for herself.
"I have business to attend to," he said, his voice curt. "Will ye be all right out here alone for a time?"
"Yes."
He led her to a low bench beneath a flowering tree. "Sit here," he said, "until I return."
With a nod, she sat down, her skirts spread around her.
Darkfest moved away a few steps, his shape changing, his muscles rippling, and then, in the guise of the wolf, he returned to her side.
"Magick!" Channa Leigh exclaimed as he pressed himself against her leg. "What are you doing here?" Smiling happily, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I am so glad to see you."
Rising, one hand grasping his fur, she stood up, her head turning from side to side as she tried to see everything at once.
"Oh, look!" she said, pointing at a peacock with feathers spread wide. "Isn't it beautiful? Oh, and look at that, and that."
The garden was like a fairyland, filled with plants in myriad shades of green and flowers in all the colors of the rainbow - bright reds and blues, violet and lavender, yellow and orange and pink. She walked through the flowers, pausing to touch this one, to smell that one, to stare in wonder at a tall plant with brilliant white flowers and sharp black thorns.
When she reached out to touch it, the wolf growled and pushed himself between her and the plant.
"Stop that," she said, and reached for the flower again, giving a little shriek when the wolf rose up on his hind legs and caught her hand in his mouth.
Channa Leigh frowned at Magick. "Why can I not touch it?"
Releasing her hand, the wolf shook his head.
"Is it poison?"
The wolf barked once, sharply.
"Very well." She turned away from the white flower, the forbidden plant quickly forgotten. There were birds everywhere, their feathers as colorful as the flowers.
" 'Tis amazing, that he has flowers in wintertime," she mused aloud.
Lost in the wonder and beauty of the yard, she walked on until she came to a very large, very deep pond surrounded by green grass and lacy ferns. Colorful fish swam in the clear water. A bridge made of white stone spanned the pool.
Stretching out on her stomach, one arm draped over the wolf's back, she gazed into the water, content to watch the fish and the frogs and the dragonflies.
"I should probably go back to the bench," she remarked after a while, "before he comes back and finds me gone, but 'tis so pretty here." She looked at the wolf and smiled. "Do you not think so?"
He barked softly, then licked her cheek.
"I wish I knew where you come from," she said, giggling as his warm pink tongue caressed her face. "And why I can see when we touch. 'Tis the strangest thing." She gazed deep into the wolf's eyes. "Sometimes I think you can understand everything I say." She frowned. "Sometimes I think you can read my mind. Can you? It wouldna surprise me if you could. In fact, I dinna think anything will ever surprise me again."
His eyes were dark gray, familiar somehow. She knew it was only her foolish imagination, but sometimes he seemed almost human. She ran her hands over the wolf's coat, loving the rich texture of his fur.
With a low whine of pleasure, Magick stretched out beside her, basking in her touch, until the pleasure became pain and the pain became desire. Growling softly, he stood up and moved away from her before she could see his beastly desire. A few minutes alone, he thought, that was what he needed, time to vanquish his desire, time to regain his self-control.
"Magick! Magick, come back!"
She scrambled to her hands and knees, reaching blindly for the wolf, shrieking as she tumbled headfirst into the pond.
Her skirts, sodden and heavy, quickly dragged her down to the bottom. Her mouth filled with water. Panic surged through her as, arms nailing, she tried to rise to the surface. Something slimy brushed her face and a silent scream rose in her throat.
And then she felt a pair of strong hands close around her waist. Moments later, she was lying on the ground and someone was thumping her on the back. Her stomach heaved as she coughed up a mouthful of water, then lay there, cold and wet and panting for air.
Muttering an oath, Darkfest gathered Channa Leigh into his arms and carried her back to the castle. In her room, he waved the hearth to life; then, ignoring her shocked protests, he stripped off her clothing, and after swaddling her in a heavy woolen blanket, he pulled a chair in front of the fire and sat down, cradling her on his lap.
"Put me down," Channa Leigh said, her teeth chattering more from fear than the cold.
"Nay." He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
She remained stiff in his arms, shivering from his nearness. She felt small and helpless in his embrace. It was frightening, to be held by this stranger, to know she was alone in his house, totally at his mercy. He had told her he wanted her there to sing for him, but what if it was a lie? She knew little of men, but she knew there were some who were cruel, who took women by force. Was that why Darkfest had brought her here? Should he decide to ravish her, what defense would she have?
"Ye have nothing to fear from me, Channa Leigh," he said, and his voice was low, almost like a growl. "I mean ye no harm."
His voice moved over her, easing her tension, making her feel safe and drowsy. Her head felt suddenly heavy and she rested it on his shoulder. His hand stroked her back, gentling her. His hair brushed her cheek; it was thick and silky, like the wolf's fur. A distant part of her mind noticed that she fit in his lap quite nicely, that his hands, though twice the size of hers, were gentle.
For a moment, just before sleep claimed her, she thought he licked her cheek.