Time of the Draig Page 9

  With the rest of the men heading for the lake, Samantha sat down next to Corporal Jensen. “How are you feeling?” She could see the strain on his features; the afternoon’s march had taken as much of a toll as their fight.

  “Feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. How did you do that?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve studied since I was a little girl. Miller says there is no real damage. Why don’t you join the others at the loch and let the cool water ease some of the swelling? You’re off duty for the remainder of the trip. All you need to do is keep up.”

  “Why?” Jensen asked with suspicious eyes.

  “Because we are so much stronger together and because I need you with me. I refuse to leave a man behind.” Samantha studied his reaction as she asked, “Are you with me?”

  Jensen was quiet for a while. He finally asked, “You won’t leave me behind?” It was the quiver in his voice that fueled her concern.

  “Never,” was her vow.

  “Okay, then I’m with you, ma’am.” Jensen said.

  Pieces of the puzzle had begun to click into place. “Did your former C.O. leave you behind?”

  Jensen sighed. “What I said about leave denied was nonsense. We all know there are no leaves anymore. We were cleaning up after a raid in North Florida. My platoon took out a squad of the enemy just outside of Jacksonville. There were citizens holed up in one of the elementary schools. Me and a couple of the guys wanted to get them out and have them transported over the border, back to our side. The C.O. said no. So we did it anyway.

  Jensen’s voice lowered. “They were in bad shape, those families we found. Food and clean water had been in short supply for quite a while. We stole a truck and gave the keys to one of the men. All thirty-seven civilians piled in and drove away.”

  “The C.O. came looking for us after the truck was reported missing. Man, was he pissed.” Samantha saw tears well in Jensen’s eyes. “He shot the two men I was with before I could blink. I didn’t hesitate . . . my hand just reacted . . . and I shot him.” He pointed to a spot just above the left temple. “He dropped on the spot.

  “The now-acting C.O. tied me to the flag pole with some chains and left me there alone for nearly three days with the threat of being caught by the enemy. When they came back, they arrested me. We met three weeks later.”

  Samantha was stunned. Such cruelty made her wonder if the timeline deserved saving. Will removing UNK005 make a difference, or will humanity only find another way to disappoint?

  She looked up to see Jensen waiting for a reply. “I am so proud of what you did.” She gave him a conspirator’s grin. “I have a nasty little habit of hacking into classified data. It’s been my way of making sure no orders came in that could endanger my work, Boomer’s life, or my own. Two weeks ago a military truck driven by a man named John Baymont entered secure ground in Louisiana. Thirty-three souls arrived safe and sound. While they lost a couple along the way, you saved a lot of lives. If it were up to me, I’d give you a medal and some well-earned leave.”

  Jensen’s head dropped, and a heavy sigh of relief left his lips. “I think I’ll take that dunk in the loch now.” She helped him up from the ground and let him join the other men.

  Jensen stopped after only a few paces. “Where are we, Major?”

  “Together,” Samantha answered simply. There was so much more she wanted to say to the man but was afraid she would cry on the spot. The men needed a strong leader, not an emotional wreck.

  When Jensen was gone, Samantha let the tears flow. Each man in her company had shared a similar tale of horror, of atrocious orders and unspeakable acts. For the first time, she was glad her father was dead. The new world would have killed him.

  The back of her hand couldn’t hide the tears as Faolan crouched by her side. He softly said, “I judged the man too harshly. You were so verra wise to keep him.”

  She nodded at the eavesdropping acknowledgment and rose to her feet. As Faolan did the same, she found her eyes level with his breastbone. She looked up and said, “I’m better now.” As she stepped out of the shelter of the rocks, she asked, “Have you seen Jeff or Boomer? They need to hear this, too.”

  “They have joined the men in the loch. Mayhap you should wait here while I fetch them. There are some things you dinna need to see.” Faolan offered with a wink.

  She laughed at the notion of literally catching everyone with their pants down while they swam. “It can wait until they’re done,” she replied.

  No sooner had she spoken then the two men she wanted appeared, walking toward her. Both had grins that spoke of enjoyment and simple pleasure.

  “The men are almost done and then are under orders to give you some time alone in the water,” Jeff said.

  “I’ll stand guard,” Boomer offered.

  “No, Boomer. I want you to stay by Jensen and make sure he’s okay. I don’t want him to feel isolated, and the rest of the men may stay away, given his conduct earlier.” She took the opportunity to tell them both about her encounter with Jensen. They took it as hard as she had, and both wore grim expressions.

  Boomer broke the silence. “You did good today. Jensen opened up and now should be trustworthy.”

  “I just wish it hadn’t taken such an extreme to get there.” Samantha mused at the oddity that it took violence to bring forth stories of violence and gain acceptance. Some matters would never make sense to her.

  Private Miller joined them. “Major, the lake is yours after I inspect your arm to make sure your wound is still closed.”

  “Did you inspect the others?” she asked as she removed her jacket.

  “Affirmative, and everyone checks out with no signs of infection,” Miller replied as he viewed the sealed cut on her upper arm. “Looks good. Oh, and nice ink, ma’am.”

  She smiled at the comment. She loved the simplicity of the Semper Fi on her arm; always faithful had taken on new meaning.

  Boomer added, “If you like that, you should see the other one.”

  Samantha shot Boomer a harsh glare. “Let’s not worry about that.”

  Boomer laughed, and she ignored Jeff’s question about what and where she had other tattoos. Some things were personal and only meant for her. Her dragon was one of those.

  Faolan made a study of her figure. “Many among my people have markings on their skin. Fear no ridicule, Samantha.”

  “Let’s all just drop the topic.” Samantha made her way to her pack and gathered her only clean set of fatigues. She glanced up enough to smile at Boomer. The man packed a great bag complete with clean underwear. As she walked away, she said, “My turn. I’ll be back in twenty.”

  Faolan wondered if he lied to himself when he decided to check on Samantha. She had been gone long enough for late afternoon to turn to the gloaming, that magical time of day when the sun was no longer visible and night had yet to take hold completely. There was no lie, only concern, he rationalized. Her sword lay next to her pack, and that meant she was alone and unarmed. While she fought like a goddess, she was still a small woman.

  Yet she had asked for time alone. Faolan crept silently around the rocks that guarded the far side of the loch. With his hand on the stone that still held warmth from the afternoon’s sun, Faolan peered at the loch.

  A sigh of relief escaped as he found her standing in water up to her shoulders with her profile visible. Her long dark hair was wet and pulled off her face. He wondered what she still wore in the cool water; there were dark lines of thin fabric over each shoulder, which made no sense to him.

  Her tiny hand scooped water to eye level and closed. Samantha repeated it over and over. She mumbled during the repetitive movement, but her words were lost in the short distance between them.

  Faolan dared a step closer to the water’s edge. His concern returned when she did not comment on
his arrival. Though he was in her line of sight, she only stared at her hand, which scooped and closed and scooped and closed. Samantha’s eyes were half shut, making him wonder if she was almost asleep as she bathed. It was a danger he could remedy.

  His shirt fell to the rock, and he bent to remove his boots and placed them next to her shed clothing. The dagger of his grandfather was placed on his shirt. His trews stayed on, as she clearly remained partially dressed. The evening’s air was cool against his skin. When his toe touched the edge of the water, he sucked in a deep breath; it was brisk and refreshing. As the air filled his lungs, the symbol on his chest moved with him. The dragon with a head on each end, the beast with no end, also breathed, though only one head was visible on his left upper pectoral. The creature bent and curved down his chest and stomach only to reveal the other head on the top of his right thigh. The mark of the Draig consumed his body, the same as it had his father and grandfather.

  He spoke softly, “Samantha,” and received no reply.

  Faolan entered the water and moved slowly to stand before her. The water had barely reached the center of his chest as he stopped within arms’ reach.

  While she did not acknowledge his presence or the presumed disturbance of her privacy, her soft voice questioned, “Does it ever really close? Can you truly disengage the flow of the particles or does only visibility diminish?”

  In a way, she scared him. She was so removed from the moment, and that left her vulnerable. He shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if he were a threat.

  Faolan closed his hand over the one that scooped and closed. For a moment, she pulled lightly and then stared at his hand. She questioned, “Is it closed or not?”

  “I dinna ken, but my hand is closed over yours,” Faolan answered.

  Samantha blinked repeatedly and suddenly noticed his presence. She questioned, “Why are you here?”

  “You have been gone for some time. Mayhap we should discuss why you dinna notice my approach,” Faolan said to the green eyes that fixed on him. Even in the fading daylight, her eyes glowed as if fire burned from behind.

  Her hand pulled out of his as she stepped back away. There was just enough light for Faolan to notice that while she wore something in the clear water, it was not enough to make her decent. The dark straps on her shoulders widened into fabric patches that covered her full breasts. He wondered if the water made her nipples pebble beneath the fabric or if it was the awareness of his gaze. The skin of her flat stomach was bare, yet more fabric covered the core of her womanhood and presumably her behind.

  Her voice sounded with mild irritation, “Are you done?”

  A guilty smile crept over his face at being caught blatantly admiring her form. He forced the grin away and whispered, “Forgive me, but you offer only temptation.”

  Her smile faded when mock hurt crossed his features. Samantha looked away from his face and stared at the mark of the Draig on his chest. His smile broke free once more as her eyes feasted on his flesh.

  “Where does it end?” Her finger pointed beneath the water.

  In his mind, the question had a suggestive quality, though he knew she asked with a dry voice. He answered, “‘Tis the mark of my clan. The beast has another head that can be found on my right thigh. Would you care to see it?” He knew he clearly offered more than a viewing.

  Her soft laughter filled the air. “I’ll take your word for it.” She sobered and asked, “When did you have that done?”

  Faolan pondered the odd question and answered, “Roughly four years ago.”

  “It’s a bit of an odd coincidence,” Samantha said as she stared at his beast.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Her head shook as if to clear the thought, and she replied, “Nothing, I’m sure it means nothing.”

  “Mayhap together we can find the meaning,” Faolan whispered.

  Her hands lifted her wet tresses and scooped them over her right shoulder. Then she walked far enough into the shallower water to reveal the skin of her back. Faolan’s eyes bulged as he stared at the markings revealed. A dragon identical to his covered her back with its head on her left shoulder blade, and the beast twined down her back. His fingertips reached and traced the creature down to the fabric of her behind.

  He growled out, “Where and how does it end?”

  Her voice was strained as she said, “On the back of my right thigh with another head.”

  Faolan demanded, “When?”

  She startled slightly as his hands gripped her hips from behind with the question but didn’t pull away. With nervous laughter, she said, “Four years and twelve days ago.”

  “I bear the mark as my forefathers did before me. It adorns my dagger, which is the symbol of my lairdship. ‘Tis my hope that someday I will have a son worthy of my dragon. Why do you have my mark on your skin?” Faolan asked.

  “I saw the symbol when I was connected to . . . I mean when I was working. I’m not sure why, but it stayed in my mind and haunted my dreams.”

  How can she not see the meaning? Though years beyond imagining had separated them, they both had his mark added to their bodies at the same time. The fates had brought them together whether she believed it or not. He knew they were not supposed to be in his when and that it was considered a mistake. Faolan knew what drew him to her upon seeing her for the first time. It was why he tried to buy her. It was also why he offered a tribe he had only met a treaty of peace and the safety of his walls. The mark on her skin was why he offered to seal that bargain by having her by his side in marriage. Her beauty had called to him, then her strength, and then her compassion. She bore his mark. Samantha is meant for me.

  Without thought, his arm banded around her stomach, and he lifted her off her feet while pressing his front to her back. He heard her say, “Put me down,” but he only asked, “Do you feel it when my beast touches yours? I swear I can feel them intertwine as if apart they have no meaning. Tell me, Samantha, do you feel it?”

  She said nothing though she stilled in his arms. There was no way he was going to allow her to hide from the truth. Though the water slowed the movement, he spun her to face him and still held her petite frame up to meet his eye. Again he asked as he searched her face, “Do you feel the loss of my dragon from your back?”

  Her eyes closed and she whispered, “I don’t know what I feel.”

  Faolan knew exactly what he felt: her damp hair between them was not enough of a barrier to diminish the sensation of full breasts against his chest, her skin was soft beneath the arm and the hand that held her effortlessly against him, and he felt her shake against him, yet she stayed in his arms.

  He bent to whisper against her lips, “I feel us, Samantha.”

  At his words, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with confusion while her hands came to rest on his shoulders. Her eyes searched his as she replied, “There is no us.”

  How can she deny the obvious? He teased, “You defy the gods of time, and yet you dinna see what is in front of you.” The retort she would have offered was cut off when his lips all but crushed hers. His hands shifted instantly, one cupping the back of her head while the other lowered from her back to grip her firm behind. Faolan practically growled when her legs needed no coaxing to wrap around his hips.

  He was lost in sensation of the woman wrapped around him. The strength of her thighs held his hips while her hands buried in his hair. It took only moments for her to match the ferocity of his mouth. Her lush lips fused against his and welcomed the exploration of his tongue. Even in desire she matched him while seeking the depths of his mouth.

  Blood roared in his veins and hips thrust against her core that his hand held in place. The sweet woman in his arms gasped for breath and mewling noises escaped her throat as he mimicked what was to come. Yet he offered no respite from
his onslaught, no chance for air and instead deepened his kiss. Fingernails that grazed his scalp and hips that sought his in a harmonious fluid movement rewarded his efforts.

  As the water sloshed between them and splashed their chests, he knew desire like he had never imagined. When Faolan had first seen Samantha, his mind had envisioned a slow and erotic seduction of gentle kisses and hands that wandered gently with discovery. The maelstrom of need was more than any man could dream.

  Secure that she clung to him, his hand left her bottom and inched up her side to the thin tormenting fabric that covered her breast. As his thumb grazed her nipple, his tongue savored the whimper she offered. The hand wrapped in her hair forced her head back and away from his mouth.

  His ears reveled in her panting breath, and his eyes stared with hunger at her swollen lips. It was not enough. Faolan whispered as his hand weighed the flesh of her breast, “Remove the garment before I tear it off of you.” Yet he waited for no reply as his hand shifted her head to bare her neck.

  Flicking his tongue just beneath her ear, he softly demanded, “I would have you bare for me, Samantha. When we join, there will be no barriers to keep any part of you from me.” His teeth pulled lightly on her earlobe as he whispered, “Now, Samantha. Join with me now. I can nay wait for you. Walk onto my lands on the morrow as my wife, nay solely my intended.”

  Her soft cry of passion became a choked gasp. She stilled in his arms. “What do you mean?”

  The change in her was immediate; passion had left to be replaced by apprehension. Faolan lifted his head to look at her eyes, and he placed a soft kiss to her frowning mouth and then whispered against her lips, “Marry me now. There is no need to wait.”