The Collector 3: Cauldron Page 16

  She got up, feeling the juices flowing inside her, the last barrier of restraint, all of the sudden, gone. “I need to pee,” she said. “Fergus, if I’m not back soon, come find me!” If he didn’t make sense or take advantage of such an open offer, she’d eat her hat.

  She pushed into the bushes and selected a spot, a nice hollow worn into the hillside by some long-ago change in the stream’s course. Having relieved herself off to one side, she settled on the mossy ground and waited. And waited.

  The darkness under the trees was deepening much quicker than that in the open glade, and eventually she could see the silhouette of the bard pushing through the undergrowth. “Katherine?” he called. His voice was just audible over the splash and trickle of the stream.

  “Here!” she called back. Moisture surged between her thighs at the sound of his voice. The insect-voice in her mind buzzed with satisfaction.

  He changed direction toward her and entered the dell. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking down at her, his features just visible in the twilight.

  “Only in my heart,” she whispered. “And I could really use a good hard fuck!” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “Matt doesn’t seem to want to stir,” he said, seeming not to have heard her.

  “Let him stay where he is, the sulky bastard,” she retorted and reached out her hand. “Make love to me, Fergus! Fuck my brains out, if you can!”

  His teeth flashed white, and he knelt beside her. “All the pretty words, all the fine phrases at my command are as nothing to your direct mode of speech!” he said. “And in the end, all the words I sing are meant to lead to the same thing.” He kissed her ear. “Love?” he whispered and kissed it again. “Seduction?” He kissed her throat. “Sex?”

  She growled and grabbed him by the shoulders, and flung him onto his back. Straddling him, she clasped his head, stooped and gave him a fierce, deep kiss on the lips. “Words, words, words,” she said. “I’m sick of words! Stop talking and fuck me!”

  “As you wish,” he said, and reached up to clasp her breasts.

  She pushed them into his hands, and he squeezed them through the thin fabric of her jerkin. Kate growled and planted her lips on his, sucking his tongue into her mouth and rolling onto her back. His weight came upon her, so firm and slender and a perfect fit between her thighs as she wrapped them about his hips.

  Fergus reached down and clawed at the hem of her kirtle. She giggled as his fingers brushed her inner thigh, and arched her hips. “Give me some space here.” She unfastened the bronze pins that held the sides of the kirtle together and drew them out, watching him watching her fingers at work until she’d wriggled the skirts up around her waist. “The rest is up to you,” she said in a husky voice, and batted her eyelids. Fergus kissed her bare thighs. His hands and fingers were sensitive instruments worthy of a bard, and he played delightful arpeggios up and down her inner thighs, sliding his tongue over her skin.

  Kate groaned and parted her legs as he drew near her pussy. She watched Fergus kiss a path closer and closer to her crotch, and felt her pussy grow moist with anticipation.

  And then he kissed her there. She drew in a sharp breath and closed her thighs on his head, earning a muffled grunt and a look of reproof. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do the nutcracker thing,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay, Katherine, I don’t mind.”

  He stroked her butt and returned to her pussy, licking it with delicate dabs of the tongue up, and down, barely touching her lips until her pussy seemed to fizz with desire. “Oh, come on, Fergus!” she moaned. “Don’t tease!”

  He laughed, his breath hot and gusting over her most sensitive flesh, and then his tongue dived deep, parting her labia and sliding in a long, delicious sweep that made her cross her eyes and shudder. “Ooohhh, god!”

  He paused long enough to divest himself of his jerkin and to lift his kilt. Then he slid up her body in sinuous fashion, pressing close, making the most contact with her he could. She glanced at his cock ‑‑ average length but thick ‑‑ then stroked his chest and back, feeling the fine muscles there, not so well defined as Matt with his jock’s physique, but then she wasn’t in the mood for a Matt-type just then. She drew his head to her and kissed him full on the lips, as his fingers toyed with her breasts and nipples.

  “Get inside me!” she told him. Fergus smiled and nodded.

  He positioned himself between her thighs, and she reached down to find his cock and place it to her pussy. Clasping her shoulders, taking the weight on his elbows, he entered her.

  His cock slid deep, the width stretching her. She purred with satisfaction. Eased by her juice, he entered her smoothly until his balls banged against her butt. He kissed her full on the lips, then down her cheeks and throat to her breasts, hunching up as he did, making his cock move inside her, bringing it into contact with whole new parts of her pussy.

  “Ooh, I like that!” she said, stroking his hair.

  “I aim to please,” he responded, cupping a breast and sucking her nipple.

  He nipped it, and she shivered. “I like that too.”

  “And this?” he enquired, reaching under her to hold her close. He began to thrust and withdraw, a long, slow, systolic pulse that stoked her already buzzing nerves to a higher pitch.

  “Yessss, oh yesss!”

  He thrust, changed angle, thrust again. Kate snorted, feeling a sudden surge of erotic energy pulse through her, and Fergus took it as a signal. He drew back, pulling her up onto his lap, his cock still inside. “Now, my Lady Katherine,” he said, and rolled her over, still impaled, until he had bent her double, her face pressing into the soft, sweet-scented moss.

  Grasping her hips, he began to bull her in rapid, deep strokes, pushing, then drawing back to the point of falling free, before thrusting deep again. Her pussy began to glow with heat, and she gasped and cried out as he worked his pleasure on her, pinning her so she could hardly move as he sated himself.

  She heard his short, sharp grunts of effort, felt his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs. She moaned and thrust backwards, trying to draw more of him inside. “Oh, yeah, do me, do me now!” she growled.

  He pulled her hips upwards and pushed the base of his cock harder against her clit. She yowled and reached under, fumbling for her swollen bud, rubbing it in time to his thrusts. His grunts became gasps, and she felt the pounding of blood in her head until her vision swam. As Fergus came, she brought herself to join him, their cries filling the dell.

  Matt heard them. He knew what was happening. Their cries came as he was feeding another small branch onto the campfire, and he clenched his fists until the twig snapped with a sharp crack.

  He didn’t know why Kate was snubbing him, or why she’d take up with a two-bit bard who’d seemed too friendly to be true. All he knew was the pain that filled his heart and chest until he could hardly breathe. Shit! How could he let himself fall for a girl like Kate? The answer was obvious even as he thought of the question. She was bright, and smart, and attractive, and not the least bit fazed by his intellect. In every way, Kate was quite capable of holding her own. After years of dating insipid Ivy League girls, Matt found everything about her a breath of fresh air. To hear her yelping with ecstasy right now was twisting him in half.

  He poked the fire again, trying to shut out the sounds. Okay, so he slept with Maeve; that was for duty, Although Kate acknowledged the fact, she made it plain she didn’t like it. Maybe, just maybe, he deserved to feel jealous of that runt Fergus. Maybe she was making a point here and would come back to him.

  Or maybe there was something else going on, something more insidious.

  * * * * *

  At nightfall, Dairmuid rode up in his chariot towards nightfall, the vehicles of his warriors following close behind, and the ràth fell into an uproar. “What is happening?” he asked one of the gate guards. “Have the Ulstermen struck south this far?” He meant it as a joke, but the guard turned a pale face to him
and stilled any humor he was feeling.

  “It’s worse, Lord. The Druidess Mór saw Cuchulainn himself riding his chariot the next vale over from here!”

  Cold fear gripped Dairmuid’s heart at the sound of that dreaded name. I’m getting too old for this! he thought. “When did she see him?”

  “Two hours since.”

  Dairmuid gestured for his men to enter the palisade and looked around. “If the Hound wanted to make trouble, he’d be here by now,” he said. “But why did he appear, after all these months of silence? Where has he been?”

  The guard spread his hands. “You’re asking the wrong man, Lord. The queen herself can tell you much more.”

  Dairmuid felt foolish for letting his mouth run away with him and thanked the man in a gruff tone before following the last of his men into the settlement. The palisade was tall and sturdy, as befitted a royal ráth, but if the Hound came calling ... well, he and his men would fight, but it would be a one-sided battle.

  Chapter Twelve

  They broke camp under a sullen sky with a sullen Matt speaking only when spoken to. Fergus seemed impossibly bright and cheerful, something Kate thought lacked tact and sensitivity. She knew Matt had heard them fucking the evening before, and now it hadn’t seemed like a good idea after all. The nasty buzzing voice in her mind had faded away after she’d returned to the camp and her bed. In the cold light of day she could barely remember it had been there at all, only that it had somehow compelled her to do things. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she’d fallen for the bard, even taking into account his looks, smooth patter and ready wit. It wasn’t as if she was looking for a roll in the moss with anyone other than Matt. A desire to make him jealous had gotten way out of hand, dangerously so. She realized she still cared for Matt, and she gave him more than one anxious glance as they mounted up and rode off.

  They rode in silence for a while. Fergus attempted to make conversation, riding close and paying attention to Kate like any lover would in the afterglow; she rebuffed him. She noticed that instead of acting baffled and hurt, Fergus looked wary. That in itself raised her suspicions about him, but Matt drew her concentration back to him.

  Riding closer to Matt, Kate reached over and touched his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice, so Fergus wouldn’t hear.

  “For what?” he said, not looking at her.

  “You know why. Do I have to spell it out?”

  “Oh, please don’t.” This time he did deign to look at her.

  “Matt, I’ve no fucking idea why that happened,” she said and sighed. She darted a glance at Fergus, who was riding a few yards away. “All I know is, something made me feel so pissed at you for screwing the queen-bitch that I wanted to get back at you.”

  “We’ve been over this before ‑‑”

  “Yes, I know.” She drew a deep breath. “I said something that made me act that way. I wasn’t acting naturally.”

  He looked at her square on, his eyebrows raised. “What on earth do you mean? Either you felt it or you didn’t.”

  “Matt, remember that spell I cast on you to make you into a sex-god?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother, do I!”

  “Exactly! I think something of the kind was cast on me, to make me fall for Fergus. Matt, I care for you, not him!”

  He reined in and looked at the sky, bit his lip. “I want to believe that.”

  “Is anything wrong?” Fergus called, stopping his mount.

  “Fergus, ride on,” Kate commanded him. “This is between me and Matt.”

  The bard frowned, shrugged and rode off further along the trail. She turned to Matt. “You have to believe me, Matt.”

  His face softened. “Maybe I will, when I forget what happened last night. The thought of you and him,” he jerked his chin in Fergus’ direction, “sleeping together made me seethe!”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “Was he good?”

  “Matt ‑‑ !”

  “I only ask for comparison,” he said, looking away.

  “You pig-headed obstinate fucking idiot!” she snarled and drew her pony away from him. “I mean what I say; I care for you, but there’s no fucking way I’ll talk to you until you calm down!”

  He said nothing, merely sat there, his pony’s ears twitching at the raised voices. She reined in and faced him. “I mean it. Oh, dammit, let’s not fuck around here, Matt. Be as stubborn and cussed as you like, but I’m not giving up on you yet.”

  He snorted, and a smile of sort crossed his lips. “I always did take you for a stubborn woman,” he said.

  “That’s me,” she said, feeling the tension start to drain away.

  “Do you mean what you say?”

  “You should know me by now; what do you think?”

  “I think you’re serious.”

  “Do you care for me?”

  He met her gaze. “I do.”

  * * * * *

  The air seemed to clear as if a storm had passed through. Kate rode alongside Matt, their legs almost touching, feeling her heart beating strong in her breast. They rode in silence.

  Fergus rode behind them a good few paces away. Kate spared him a glance now and then, but she made sure her attitude made it plain to the bard that his presence was no longer as welcome as it had been. The Ulsterman chewed a thumbnail and darted hard looks at them but kept his peace.

  As they rounded a curve on the trail a distant movement in the trees atop a hill caught her attention. “Look!”

  Matt followed the line of her pointing finger and saw what she’d spotted, a two-pony chariot crossing the brow of the hill, lit briefly by a stray beam of sunlight that had penetrated the clouds building up to the east. “Oh, that.”

  “What do you mean ‘oh that?’“ she asked.

  “I saw it now and then all yesterday. Whoever they are, they’re following us.”

  “Didn’t you think fit to tell us we’re being followed?”

  He cracked a wry smile. “I had other things on my mind.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Could it be the queen sent someone to follow us, to make sure we do the job?”

  “No,” he said. “The geas is effective in keeping us to the straight and narrow. It’s magical; it can’t be escaped.” He shook his head. “I have the feeling I know who that is out there, but damned if I can pin the thought down in my mind.”

  “Something you’ve read? Are they likely to be dangerous?”

  “I don’t know. Did you see the color of the ponies drawing that chariot?”

  “One was white, the other black.”

  “Exactly. That’s significant, somehow.” He shook his head and slapped the side of it as if to dislodge a thought. “No, it won’t come.”

  “Matt, I think I’ve had quite enough of seeming to get nowhere fast.” She glanced up at the hill; the chariot had vanished. “I’d rather not take our chances with whoever’s following us. I’m going to cast my go-go-go spell and get us to Moygara.”

  “Suits me,” he said, and his smile widened. “Warn that bard if you must, and let’s get going.”

  * * * * *

  Cuchulainn saw the three ponies speed up until they became a blur that shot out of sight. He frowned and shook his head. He’d been lucky to get this far without the travelers deciding to use that trick. He and his driver would have to travel another day before they reached Moygara, and all kinds of trouble could hit Kate Susadi and Matt O’Brien before then.

  “The folk of the future,” he said in a sour tone to his driver. “They’re all the same, rush, rush, rush all the time.”

  “I believe you,” Laeg said with a gap-toothed grin. “Shall we go?”

  “Drive on,” Cuchulainn nodded, leaning against the wickerwork side of the chariot as it started into motion and picking his teeth with a splinter of wood. He sighed. The things he missed from that strange future would be the beautiful women and expert dental treatment.

  Unknown to Cuchulainn, he was being watched in tu
rn by a solitary crow sitting high in a beech tree nearby. As the chariot began to roll away, the crow sniffed and took flight.

  * * * * *

  “I think he’ll live,” Kate said, stooping and peering into Fergus’ eyes. They had been wide and staring since she and Matt had pried him from his pony. Kate’s warning had not prepared him for the accelerated trip.

  “Good ... I think,” Matt said, looking around.

  She straightened up, put her hands on her hips and looked around too. “Is this the right place?”

  “It’s where your magic brought us, and it does match the description I was given.”

  They stood atop a low hill in a landscape of rolling, wooded countryside. The only sign of habitation was a plume of smoke in the far distance, marking the presence of a croft. Away to their right the dappled waters of Lough Gara shone silver-blue in the sun. Kate glanced at it quickly, then away; their ponies had galloped flat-out across those waters, heading from shore to shore without hesitation, their speed sending up a rooster-tail of spray. It had been the last straw for Fergus, and now he sat, huddled in shock. Kate didn’t really care. She’d been more concerned about the ponies, but they showed no signs of duress. They’d tethered the mounts well away from the tower, and when she glanced that way, she saw the ponies contenting themselves with cropping the rich grass on the hillside.

  “What do we do now?” she asked Matt.

  He and spread his hands. “I guess I have to speak the magic word.”

  “Go ahead. What is it, by the way?”

  “Friend.”

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding! Speak ‘friend’ and enter?”

  Matt laughed. “I guess it had to come from somewhere.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then spread his arms wide and called out “Friend!”

  Even after all she’d experienced, Kate still harbored a doubt about whether the magical password would work. She soon saw she needn’t have worried, for as the word rolled from Matt’s lips, the world in front of them changed.