Page 28 of Dorchad

In the command room Cath found Dorchad with a group of armed patrollers preparing to leave. “You found the thieves?” he asked.

The chieftain barely glanced at him. “Aye. One briefly took the red-haired wench captive before running into the woods. They’ll likely retreat to the troll’s ha’ and there hide until nightfall.”

The red-haired wench. An interesting manner in which to refer to a healer. He shifted a little closer until he could pick up on the chieftain’s emotions, which roiled invisibly in his aura like thousands of trapped, vicious snakes. He had descended into a killing mood, and yet his control was such that no one recognized it.

Cath eyed the sack one patroller carried, which appeared filled with kindling. “You mean to smoke them out, then?”

Dorchad’s expression darkened. “’Tis better they choke to death in the cave, for if they emerge, they shall greet our steel.”

“I cannae agree. Permit me lead the patrol.” Cath gestured for the other men to leave, and when the chieftain started to follow caught his shoulder. “Dinnae take revenge on fools, Brother.”

“One of the facking fools put a blade to her,” he said, his voice chilling to its iciest. “Using a wench as leverage, ’tis what scum do. They’re spineless cowards that dinnae deserve to breathe. I shall correct the Gods’ oversight.”

“I’ve no doubt you can, and what shall the laird say when you deliver their dead bodies to him? Well done? Hang their carcasses from the towers for all to see?” He waited for a moment before he added, “We vowed to protect the mortals, cowards or no’.”

Dorchad’s eyes became endless black pits. “No’ the one who touched Rebecca. To save himself he would happily cut the wee lass’s throat. Of all those bastarts he needs to die.”

“’Tis too quick for the likes of him. The rest of his life spent in misery, that should suffice.” He’d never make such a suggestion to anyone but the chieftain, who in time would calm and see it for what it was. “Leave the thieves to me, Brother. I pledge to you, they shallnae escape justice.”

Cath sensed Dorchad’s darkness brimming on the edge of violence, but had no fear. He’d faced far worse than the chieftain in their sire’s otherworld kingdom, where roamed monsters so horrific that a single glimpse of them could drive mortals to insanity. He also knew why Rune had chosen to abandon his twin sons rather than rescue them from their crazed màthair.

Stay far from them, his sire had warned, for their blood runs darker than my own.

“Keep your word,” Dorchad finally said. “Or I shall keep mine.”

Chapter Seven

Rebecca stood staring at the empty tub that two maids had just lugged into the chamber. According to them Lucy had insisted on it, saying she needed to relax after her ordeal. She’d almost told them not to bother filling it. While she needed a bath to scrub away the stink and memories of the attack, that would also wash away the scent of Dorchad and what he had done to her in the hay barn. Her bottom still ached from the spanking he’d given her, making her remember how he’d punished her every time she moved. Her clit still throbbed, too.

Ever I see you, wench, and my cock swells until I can think of naught but burying it here, where you’re so tender and sweet.

Rebecca went over to the blazing hearth, kneeling down on the cold stone floor to warm her trembling hands. None of this was new to her. What she’d discovered about herself while recovering from the car accident fourteen years ago had shamed her at first. She’d never been in such pain as when her casts were removed and they’d put her in a wheelchair to take her to the therapy room, but that wasn’t all she’d experienced.

It had taken time—and many secretive sessions at night doing internet research on her laptop—for Rebecca to understand what was happening to her. The trauma of the car accident and her recovery had changed her fundamentally, and she may have adapted to her altered circumstances by taking control of something that should have terrified her and turning it into something that gave her pleasure.

Pain aroused her, almost unbearably so.

How can I explain all this to a man who lives in a time when blood-letting and using urine and dung to treat wounds are considered viable medical treatments?

The two maids returned carrying four buckets of hot water, which they added to the tub before setting a smaller empty wooden catch basin on the floor beside it. One of them placed a crock of soap and some linen toweling within reach of the tub, while the other put a large wooden dipper on top of the toweling.

“Thank you.” After they left Rebecca began to undress, wincing as her movements stretched the skin on her sore bottom. The reality of being spanked was much more raw than the fantasy, but she didn’t mind that part. She’d endured all the pain and humiliation of the chieftain’s punishment, but she had yet to be rewarded for that. Between her legs her sex pulsed with aching, burning need. Dorchad had wanted her, too.

Only I’d fack you all night and the next day, and you’re but a wee thing.

Without running water, washing up in the fourteenth century was either a jug and basin sponging affair, or this catch basin and tub soak bath. Since she wanted to soak in the hot water now, Rebecca ran a wet cloth over herself before scrubbing with the soap, and then washed her hair. She rinsed off while standing in the shallow wood basin, which collected all the dirty, soapy water that sluiced off her. When she stepped into and sank down in the heated depths of the bigger tub, her bones seemed to dissolve. If she had closed her eyes she probably would have fallen asleep, or so she thought until one neglected part of her anatomy reminded her that things south of her navel were quite wide awake, and hurting in a different sense.

We didn’t finish, that’s why.

As she soaked in the tub she kept looking at the door. She badly needed to talk to Dorchad, but she knew he would never come to her. Whether he was too proud, or worried that he might hurt her, he was definitely against becoming involved with her. After what had happened in the hay barn he would probably avoid her for the rest of the time she lived at the castle so that it didn’t happen again.

Rebecca understood his hesitation, because from all the signals he gave her this was new for him, too. Taking back control of her pain meant confronting him about the spanking, and telling him what he didn’t know about her. That required a lot more courage than she’d ever had to draw on, but it was Dorchad, her dream man. She could drive herself crazy thinking it, she could masturbate while fantasizing about him and hope to satisfy herself, or she could go and talk to the real man right now.

I’ll find a way to make him understand.

She dressed in a shift, gown and a pair of slippers that Lucy had given her, and when the maids returned to remove and empty the tub she had one of them lace her up. After combing out her damp hair, she rolled and clipped it into a twist, and then took a moment to be sure of herself. She was clean, calm and completely presentable. She could show him her true self without hysterics.

I have to do this or I’ll never know.