"Tell me…who do you serve?" Tremayne asked as he slammed the heavy door.
His voluptuous sex maid jumped from the noise. Wringing her hands, she walked further into his chamber, no doubt to put distance between his anger and herself. Coira MacKinnon might be a scheming, lying whore, but she knew when to retreat.
She pivoted toward him—her auburn hair tumbling around her shoulders as her hazel eyes lowered. "Ye are Laird Tremayne Campbell, chieftain of the clan, son to Lady Torella, and the great dark sorcerer of this castle."
"I am glad you remembered, Coira." Tremayne went to his timber chest beneath the tall window and opened the lid. Without looking at her, he continued, "Explain why you disobeyed my command?"
"Master, I wish not to leave you," she pleaded and ran to his side. She went to place her hand on his shoulder, but in the last moment, withdrew. "I pray you; send one of the old crones in my stead."
He straightened and pulled out a long whip. "Mayhaps, yer loyalties need to be prompted as to who is yer laird."
Coira blinked, her lips curving into a smile at the sight of the whip in his hand. "How may I assist you?" She began to unlace her ruby corset and threw it to the side, eagerness shining in her eyes.
"I know you like the whip, Coira. But this time I will not use it on you until you plead for forgiveness."
"Please do not tease me, Master." She lifted a linen chemise over her head, her pert breasts jutting proudly, the peaks hard and erect.
Tremayne felt his member rise, throbbing beneath his kilt. His hands cupped her breasts and she groaned. Curly, copper hair cascaded over soft shoulders while Coira arched her back, pushing her chest forward.
"I would do anything for you my laird. I beg you to forgive my impertinence."
Taller than the average man, Tremayne looked down his nose at the contrite maid. "You will offer yer services to Lady Gavenia of the Roberts clan."
Coira raised her head and scrunched her nose. "I could be of more use to you in yer bedchamber, my laird. Do not punish me by sending me away."
Tremayne chuckled nastily, and distanced himself from her, releasing the sexual energy he wrapped around his lovers.
Eerie, cool air surrounded Coira. Smiling, he watched the bumps rise on her delicate skin. His touch inspired submission, but taking it away would send a woman into a state of uncontrollable wanting, leaving them consumed by a deadly thirst for something only he could provide.
Turning, he looped the whip around his neck and walked over to the wooden table to pour a chalice of red wine.
"I grow weary of yer whining." Taking a sip of the tart liquid, he studied Coira’s curves. Her body had given him much pleasure and her sexual energy fed his powers, yet he grew restless for something. He knew not what.
"Perhaps it is time to send you back to yer father. I know he could use yer help in the fields."
"Nae, my laird."
She ran toward him and then halted. Coira knew not to touch him without being instructed to do so. Backing away, she lowered her head, falling to her knees before him. "I am ready to be punished."
The light surrounding Coira’s aura was dark red, impatient to feel the sting of the whip. Some women liked to be caressed with a tender hand while others, like Coira, were stimulated by power and violence. No matter the method, Tremayne absorbed their energy when they reached their sexual peak.
***********
The hair on the back of Gavenia’s neck stood on end. It was still dark, before dawn. She sat up and scanned the area. No other movement from the trees came. She looked over at her maid, but Coira was gone, along with her bag. A few of Gavenia’s gowns were strewn about the ground, her gold vanished.
"Coira?" she called, but no answer. "Coira!"
Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it in her very spirit. Suppressing the urge to panic, she rose and gathered her gowns. She didn’t know which direction she needed to go; she just knew she had to make haste.
Gavenia stopped picking up her gowns and stood still. The surrounding forest was dead silent. The only sound was her heavy breathing. Her heart beat increased, dread threatened to overwhelm her. Evil was nearby. She could not shake the feeling.
She had to leave.
Now!
Dropping her belongings, she leapt onto her saddle and sunk her heels into the horse’s flanks. Jolting forward, unseen branches whipped at her arms and face, her mount racing carelessly through the woods.
Suddenly a sound of hoof beats came from behind.
She was being chased.
Lowering her head closer to her mount, she urged her horse to a greater speed. Low hanging trees threatened to dismount her, yet she dodged each one. She managed to look around. A dark horseman was dangerously close, effortlessly riding a black steed.
He pulled out a whip from his saddle and it glowed bright orange. Gavenia’s breath caught in her throat. The whip couldna be for her, could it? What did he want? Why could he not leave her alone? She must keep her head.
Keep riding.
Faster. Faster.
The horseman covered more ground than her exhausted palfrey. She needed help and now. Mumbling a spell, a lightening bolt came from the cloudless sky and it struck the ground before the horseman. His large stallion glided over it.
"What horse is not afraid of lightening?"
She faced the front. A branch almost took her head off before she ducked.
"If I canna stop you with fire, maybe I can stop you with ice." Uttering another spell, the clouds gathered and rain poured down, it then turned to hail. Large rocks of ice fell from the sky, hitting the horseman, but he continued on as if the hail were flowers.
Gavenia looked around again. Not only did he not slow, he was gaining on her. Her mount was no match for his warhorse.
The horseman looped the lasso in the air again; the orange light brightened the forest with an eerie glow.
Gavenia’s pulse increased with fear and she urged her tired mount for more speed. He was almost upon her.
She heard the whip crack and flinched.
A tight bind wrapped around her waist and arms. Suddenly, she was jerked off her mount and into the dirt with a thud, knocking the breath from her lungs. It took her a moment to shake the darkness from her head.
The hail she cursed the stranger with was now falling on her. She mumbled a spell to stop the weather.
Suddenly, the lasso around her waist tightened, cutting into the flesh on her arms.
The horseman stood over her, his face in the shadows. "Confounding witch!"
He gathered her into his arms and threw her over the rump of his horse. Gavenia went to chant another spell.
"The chain you wear is cursed. With every spell you utter, it will tighten until it breaks through yer arms and squeezes the very breath from yer body," he warned, his tone rough and cold. Swinging into his saddle, he turned back to her and whispered in her ear. "I suggest you keep yer mouth shut."
The vehemence in his voice made Gavenia shiver. She had so many questions, but was afraid to ask in case the chain tightened further with the mere sound of her voice.
The sunrise streaked across the sky as his mount spurred into a swift gallop. The chain cut into her skin with every movement of the horse, and blood oozed down her arms.
Gavenia closed her eyes. Please, Mother, wake up. I need you!
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