Page 27 of Luthias

Only look, he told himself as he walked to the armory. Dinnae touch.

Inside the large chamber several lanterns glowed over a selection of claymores arranged by length and hilt design on the sharpening table, where the lass sat with writing on a roll of parchment. For a few moments Luthias simply watched her as she worked, admiring the way the light gilded her pretty face, and the quickness of her small hand as she moved the quill from scroll to ink pot. The words she wrote flowed like thin, rolling currents across the page, but now and then she stopped and stretched a ribbon of linen over one of the blades.

“Five feet eight inches,” she murmured to herself after one such measurement. “Seven feet six inches was the record. That guy must have been even taller than Taveon.” She ran her fingertips along the flat of the long sword.

“’Twill cut you, my lady,” Luthias said without thinking.

Emery made a squeaking sound as she jumped back from the table and stared wide-eyed at him.

“Hey, how long have you been– Oh, sorry, my lord.” She dipped, demonstrating that she had almost mastered the curtsey. “You startled me.”

“My apologies.” It wouldn’t hurt to move a little closer, he thought as he approached the table, if only to keep her from wounding herself. “What do you here, Mistress Parker?”

“I’m being nosy,” she said, flashing her adorable dimples at him. “No one has a better collection of early medieval weapons than a fourteenth-century clan, right? I was also hoping to find another blade like the one that brought me here.”

“’Tis no other blade like the Fire Sword,” Luthias assured her.

“So Prince Ross only made the one?” When he nodded Emery sighed. “Rats. I wanted to see his workmanship up close. I don’t suppose I could look at it again, could I?”

“We’ve placed the blade in the crypt. ’Tis best to keep the thing locked away for now.” He reached out to brush a tendril of hair back from her cheek, which felt silky soft against his fingers. “I dinnae wish you disappear before you save the clan, my lady.”

“Good point.” She took a step back to break the contact between them. “I wanted to ask you, are there any Fae around in this time? Maybe somewhere close to your castle?”

“They dinnae oft visit the mortal realm, but mayhap.” He dropped his hand. “What want you with the Fae?”

“If I could talk to one of them,” she said slowly, “maybe they could tell me more about Prince Ross and this saining enchantment of his. I know he was exiled, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask for some details about the magic he used, right?”

“The Fae cannae be so easily found, and they never speak to mortals.” It turned his stomach to think of Emery going anywhere near the fair folk. “They would likely take you.”

“Take me? You mean to their world?” When he shook his head she frowned. “Then where would...oh. I get it. But really, just like that?”

“Mortals of rare beauty fascinate the Fae,” Luthias told her, resisting the urge to touch her again. “Those unlike any other most inflame their passions. You’d be regarded a true prize.”

“Good thing you’re not Fae, huh?” She met his gaze and took in a quick breath. “You know, my lord, I promised the master sage I’d do, ah, something important. I should go do that right now.”

As she tried to leave Luthias couldn’t help reaching out to catch her with his arm. He meant only to speak with her, to reassure her that he would not press his attentions. That he forgot as he pulled her back against his body.

“This is a bad idea, my lord,” she said, sounding breathless.

“Stay a moment, Mery. Only a moment.” When she started to turn around to face him he tightened his hold. “Dinnae. ’Tis too tempting.”

“You’re not making this any easier for me.” She put her hands over his, her slim fingers sliding over the spaces between his own. “Every time you touch me, my whole body goes crazy. Do you think it was from that love charm, or just our bad luck?”

“I broke the charm. ’Tis us.” He turned his head and breathed in the scent of her as her fine hair caressed his face. His cock had swelled so much he knew she could feel it throbbing against the small of her back. “Tomorrow I’ll take you away with me. ’Twill take much the day, the ride.” A vision of her on her back in wildflowers, her eyes dark with desire, made him smile. “We’ll rest the horses at a meadow that overlooks the loch. ’Tis a pretty, quiet place.”

“Quiet. Pretty. Right next to a large body of water.” She shivered. “I think I should stay at the castle.”

“So you should.” He found the curve of her ear with his mouth and murmured, “Only you dinnae wish to. You desire come with me, Mery.”

“Don’t say that.” She closed her eyes. “It means something else in my time.”

“Then teach me what ’twill someday mean,” Luthias said.

In that moment a vision of Emery binding a wound on a man’s leg came to him. He saw her look up and say, You need to keep this clean and dry until it heals, so change the bandage after you wash up for the day––and wash these pants, too.

“My lord?” someone called from the outer passage, shattering the vision.

“Someone’s playing your tune.” Emery pulled his hands away from her belly and walked very quickly out of the armory. “Hey, Taveon. The laird’s in the armory. Wow, look at the position of the sun. I had no idea it was that late. Got to run now, see you later.”