Read Online Faelan: A Highland Warrior Brief by Anita Clenney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anita Clenney
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his boots. “I know why you’re here, but getting drunk won’t make you forget.”
“I don’t want to forget,” Faelan said.
“It won’t make it hurt less either. Maybe for a few hours, but when you wake, it’ll be staring you in the face again. It was his choice, Faelan, and you can’t change that.”
“He was going to be a farmer.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but he did what you were trying to do. Save him, and us. If Kieran hadn’t done what he did, that would be you buried in the ground instead o f him. Come on. Let’s go home.”
It wasn’t easy getting there. He was unsteady and kept slipping, but Nandor shifted to keep his weight balanced. “Where are we going?”
“To the tunnel. There’s still a crowd at the castle.”
“I thought everyone would have left by now.” The visitors had already delayed their departures so they could attend Kieran’s funeral.
“They’ve been looking for you. And unless the Mighty Faelan wants his reputation t arnished, we’d best sneak in.”
The weeks and months moved in a haze, more demons and more battles, but every year, when he was home, on the date of Kieran’s death, Faelan went and sat by his grave. Sometimes his brothers went with him. Sometimes he went alone. He never forgot Kieran’s friendship, his sacrifice, and he never forgot that it was his fault Kieran had died.
Chapter Five
Four years later
Near Beauly, Scotland
A shadow moved between him and the fire. A woman. It was her. She walked toward him, her body hidden by the darkness. He strained to see her face, but as always, it was cloudy. But he could feel her. He had no trouble with that. She stooped and pulled back the blanket he’d thrown over him and joined him in his bedroll. She was naked. His hands made up for what he couldn’t see. He touched and stroked until he’d covered every bit of her, then he started with his mouth. He nuzzled her neck, and moved down to her breasts, and kept going until he’d tasted all of her. She tasted like honey and sunshine, and when she moaned and pulled at his shoulders, he slid up her body and opened her thighs to slip inside—
Faelan woke, his loins throbbing. He was face down with nothing underneath him but the earth and his bedroll. Bollocks. The dream again. If it was a dream how could he still taste her on his tongue, hear her name on his lips? Her name. He grabbed for the memory, yanking it like he might yank a line to snag a trout, but the memory slipped free before he could grasp it. Damnat ion. Why couldn’t he remember?
“He’s at it again,” Ian muttered from his bedroll on the other side of the fire.
They were on their way back from a battle in Edinburgh. Ian’s demon, this time. Leaves crunched as one of his brothers shifted. Faelan didn’t move. He was still hard and aching from the dream, making it damned uncomfortable lying face down on the ground, but he didn’t want them to know he was awake.
“Faelan needs a wom an,” Tavis said, his voice low.
Ian snorted. “He’s got one.”
“A real one,” Tavis said. Something hit the fire an d the flames hissed.
“Makes no sense,” Ian said softly. “All men dream of lasses, but the same one for years, and he doesn’t even know he r name? That’s bloody strange.”
“This is one puzzl e you won’t solve,” Tavis said.
“He could be lying.”
“You know Faelan doesn’t lie.”
“Then she must be his mate,” Ian said.
“He doesn’t have a mate.”
Neither brother spoke for a moment, and Faelan listened to the fire sizzling and wished he could go back to the dream, or get rid of it. It was becoming a torment.
“Maybe his spirit recognizes her, even though he doesn’t. The Watchers aren’t the only ones who have strange dreams. You know that.”
“That I do,” Tavis said.
Faelan shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. He and Tavis both seemed plagued with strange dreams. But where he dreamed of a woman, Tavis dreamed of
“I don’t want to forget,” Faelan said.
“It won’t make it hurt less either. Maybe for a few hours, but when you wake, it’ll be staring you in the face again. It was his choice, Faelan, and you can’t change that.”
“He was going to be a farmer.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but he did what you were trying to do. Save him, and us. If Kieran hadn’t done what he did, that would be you buried in the ground instead o f him. Come on. Let’s go home.”
It wasn’t easy getting there. He was unsteady and kept slipping, but Nandor shifted to keep his weight balanced. “Where are we going?”
“To the tunnel. There’s still a crowd at the castle.”
“I thought everyone would have left by now.” The visitors had already delayed their departures so they could attend Kieran’s funeral.
“They’ve been looking for you. And unless the Mighty Faelan wants his reputation t arnished, we’d best sneak in.”
The weeks and months moved in a haze, more demons and more battles, but every year, when he was home, on the date of Kieran’s death, Faelan went and sat by his grave. Sometimes his brothers went with him. Sometimes he went alone. He never forgot Kieran’s friendship, his sacrifice, and he never forgot that it was his fault Kieran had died.
Chapter Five
Four years later
Near Beauly, Scotland
A shadow moved between him and the fire. A woman. It was her. She walked toward him, her body hidden by the darkness. He strained to see her face, but as always, it was cloudy. But he could feel her. He had no trouble with that. She stooped and pulled back the blanket he’d thrown over him and joined him in his bedroll. She was naked. His hands made up for what he couldn’t see. He touched and stroked until he’d covered every bit of her, then he started with his mouth. He nuzzled her neck, and moved down to her breasts, and kept going until he’d tasted all of her. She tasted like honey and sunshine, and when she moaned and pulled at his shoulders, he slid up her body and opened her thighs to slip inside—
Faelan woke, his loins throbbing. He was face down with nothing underneath him but the earth and his bedroll. Bollocks. The dream again. If it was a dream how could he still taste her on his tongue, hear her name on his lips? Her name. He grabbed for the memory, yanking it like he might yank a line to snag a trout, but the memory slipped free before he could grasp it. Damnat ion. Why couldn’t he remember?
“He’s at it again,” Ian muttered from his bedroll on the other side of the fire.
They were on their way back from a battle in Edinburgh. Ian’s demon, this time. Leaves crunched as one of his brothers shifted. Faelan didn’t move. He was still hard and aching from the dream, making it damned uncomfortable lying face down on the ground, but he didn’t want them to know he was awake.
“Faelan needs a wom an,” Tavis said, his voice low.
Ian snorted. “He’s got one.”
“A real one,” Tavis said. Something hit the fire an d the flames hissed.
“Makes no sense,” Ian said softly. “All men dream of lasses, but the same one for years, and he doesn’t even know he r name? That’s bloody strange.”
“This is one puzzl e you won’t solve,” Tavis said.
“He could be lying.”
“You know Faelan doesn’t lie.”
“Then she must be his mate,” Ian said.
“He doesn’t have a mate.”
Neither brother spoke for a moment, and Faelan listened to the fire sizzling and wished he could go back to the dream, or get rid of it. It was becoming a torment.
“Maybe his spirit recognizes her, even though he doesn’t. The Watchers aren’t the only ones who have strange dreams. You know that.”
“That I do,” Tavis said.
Faelan shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. He and Tavis both seemed plagued with strange dreams. But where he dreamed of a woman, Tavis dreamed of
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