Page 59 of Dorchad

“Oh, my lord.” He pretended to be confounded, shivering and shaking while he clenched around Fifer’s great shaft. “I cannae bear your stillness. Please, you must... I want– I need– Ah.”

“So you shall take me.” The laird started to move, grunting as he came into him, his eyes hot and his big body tense. “Take all of me, aye, and I shall make you spill for me again.”

Kiamh cried out as the long length prodded him inside, causing hot blood to pour into and stiffen his own tadger. In another moment he would jet again, thanks to the hot, deliciously rough manner in which Fifer hammered into him. Then he looked up into the laird’s eyes, now filled with lust and longing, and he knew he had him.

“Make me yours,” he cried out as his baws tightened and his cream fountained out of him, triggering Fifer to do the same deep inside him.

In that moment he knew the laird was his, and so was everything else he had ever wanted.

Chapter Sixteen

Sgathan had grown instantly sickened by playing the old game of replacing his twin to deceive someone, and retreated to his tower room to take solace in drink. He found Piseag hiding under the tartan he’d left on his chair, and the moment he beheld his bedraggled state all thoughts of Dorchad and Rebecca left him.

“What in the Gods’ names did you to yourself, you wee fool?” He picked up the feline and noted the burnt patches on his fur, which suggested he’d come too close to a hearth. But he’d never known Piseag to even leave his chamber, much less go roaming where he should not.

A moment later his twin came in without knocking and slammed the door behind him.

“Dinnae,” he warned Dorchad as he advanced on him. “You wished to ken if she’d warm to me. You told me do thus, exactly as I did.”

“You did too much. She’s left the island.” His brother picked up the jug of whiskey on his table and hurled it into the hearth, which exploded with flames. “Why couldnae you seduce her proper? Surely you’ve facked a dozen wenches in secret.”

“Three, and only once with each.” As Dorchad stared at him he bared his teeth. “Your lady’s reaction, ’tis naught new to me. No female wishes my kiss, my touch or my cock. I make them ill. ’Tis why Lady Lucy dislikes me, I reckon, and I never even bedded her.” He watched him drop into a chair and cradle his head between his hands. “Your wee healer, she’s offered her heart to you, aye?”

“As no female ever did or could.” He rubbed his eyes. “I cannae wed her, nor give her bairns. She ages each day, while I remain the same. One sickness could carry her off and I think that should end me, too. Only I cannae let her escape me.”

“Eejit.” Sgathan almost punched him. “You’re in love with her as well.”

“I dinnae care. She’s my heart’s mirror. The other side of me.” Dorchad got to his feet. “I must go and bring her back. You shall accompany me. I shall explain my fears and you shall apologize with me.”

He picked up a mug, tossing it up in the air, and watched his twin dodge it as it went flying at his head. “I want your winter coat. The one you had made from the pelts of the wolves slain by those facking hunters ten years past.”

At the door his twin hesitated and looked back at him. “You despise wearing fur.”

“I intend to burn it.” He gave him an insulting smile.

Piseag jumped from his arms and ran under his bed.

Rebecca turned around to see a large man dressed in simple garments standing very close to her. Although she didn’t recognize him, he resembled the woodsmen that worked on the island for the MacRune Clan. The sounds of high-pitched laughter made her glance past him at the clearing several yards away, where four youngsters and a young man were herding a small flock of sheep toward the road. Perhaps he was the father of the kids.

Or not, she thought as she shifted her gaze back to the man.

Something about him didn’t seem exactly right. His face seemed almost off-center, as if it were an excellent rubber mask he’d put on wrong. His clothing had strange dark stains on the sleeves that looked almost tarry, they were so black. He didn’t smell like the thieves who had attacked her on the island, but gave off a kind of sickening heat like a feverish patient locked up in an airless sickroom.

“Yes, I’m Dr. McIan,” she said. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The woodsman bowed a little too low. “No, my lady. I’m sent by Lady Lucy. She awaits you in the barn just there.” He gestured to her left. “’Twas something about a druid lad gone missing?”

Rebecca sensed she was in trouble, and that this man was not a man at all. After what Dorchad had said about the dark Fae, she knew running would only cause him to chase her down and probably kill her. Over his shoulder, the shepherds were getting closer.

In her mind’s eye she recalled the ER waiting room, with two possible futures playing out before her. In one, this creature butchered them all, adding gore to the stains he already wore. But in the other, she kept him away from the road, and knew instantly that there was really no choice.

“Thank you for the message.” Turning and walking toward the barn as if she suspected nothing took all her self-control. Her whole body wanted to shake itself to pieces, but as he started following her she knew she’d done the right thing.

I’ve lived and helped others like me. I’ve met and been with the man who was my perfect match. If it’s my time, I can go in peace.

“Here I am, Lucy,” she called out as she entered the barn, and then went flying as a hard hand shoved her inside.

Rebecca fell to the dirt floor of the barn, a cloud of rotted straw bits wafting up into her face. She saw the dark boots of the woodsman stop in front of her and went still as they shimmered oddly.