Channa Leigh's gaze swept the land around them. She was all too conscious of time passing, all too aware that soon she would be trapped in darkness again. But for now, she delighted in everything she saw.
As Darkfest had predicted, their animals had not gone far. He lifted her onto the back of her mount, swung agilely onto the back of his own.
When they stopped to rest the horses later that day, she saw a spiderweb stretched between two bushes. She watched, fascinated, as a spotted spider slowly and carefully cocooned its unwitting prey in white silk.
They stopped again several hours later, this time near a river teeming with dozens of silver fish. Darkfest dropped down beside her. Stretching out on his stomach, he plunged his hands into the water up to his elbows and, to her delight, caught six fat fish with his bare hands.
Wrapping them in leaves, he put them in his saddlebags. "Dinner," he explained.
They rode until dusk, then made camp near a small blue pool surrounded by pale lavender ferns, flowering vines and tall slender trees with silver-blue leaves. It looked like a fairyland. She would not have been surprised to see unicorns peeking through the bushes.
She watched Darkfest unsaddle the horses and hobble them nearby and then, with a wave of his hand and a muttered incantation, a small fire sprang to life.
Needing to feel useful, she spread the bedrolls on either side of the fire, filled their water skins. She had never cooked fish over an open fire, but when she offered, he told her there was no need. He took care of it quickly and efficiently. He cut off the heads and tails, gutted the fish, removed the bones, then cut the fish up into chunks, which he put on sticks to roast over the fire.
The meat was juicy and tender. "Delicious!" she exclaimed. "Where did you learn to do that?"
He shrugged. "I dinna recall."
"That seems passing strange."
He nodded. There were many things he could do that he had no memory of knowing or learning. The knowledge simply came to him as needed. Some of what he knew he had learned from books, but some of his magic seemed inborn. His power over fire and the elements was simply there, a part of him for as far back as he could remember.
A heaviness fell over Channa Leigh's mood as the sun began to set. She stared at Darkfest, wanting to imprint his image on her mind.
"Thank you for this day, my lord," she said, and even as she spoke, her vision began to fade, to darken, until blackness descended on her once again.
"Channa Leigh?"
She turned her face away lest he see the tears forming in her eyes. She was grateful to have been able to see for one whole day, and yet having seen the beauty of the world around her only made the darkness that engulfed her seem all the worse.
She stiffened as she felt his arm slide around her shoulders.
"Channa Leigh, why do ye weep?"
"I'm not," she said, sniffing.
"No?" His finger lifted a fat teardrop from her cheek.
" 'Tis... 'tis only a... bit of dew."
He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by her tears, her nearness. All too clearly he recalled the kiss they had shared, and hungered for more. Just one more taste of her honeyed lips.
It was a temptation beyond resistance. Drawing her closer, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
He felt her surprise and then her surrender as she leaned in to him, her arms twining around his neck.
He was breathless when he drew back, his body hard with wanting.
"My lord," she whispered.
"Forgive me."
"You must not kiss me so," she said, her voice as breathless as his. " 'Tis not right."
"Aye," he said, and kissed her again.
'Twas only a kiss, she thought. How could it have such power? It moved through her like sunlight and lightning, driving away the darkness. Her blindness no longer mattered. Nothing mattered but the touch of his lips on hers, the feel of his arms strong and sure around her, the heat that flowed through her, the little shivers of pleasure that made her press her body closer to his.
She ached deep inside, ached for something unknown, something she had never felt before. The intensity of it frightened her.
"Channa Leigh." His voice was thick and ragged, and in some way she didn't understand, it magnified the ache deep inside her, left her clinging to him in hopes that he could somehow ease the ache that throbbed in the very core of her being.
With a muttered oath, he put her away from him.
"My lord?" Confused, she reached out for him. She could hear the sound of his breathing. It came in quick gasps, as if he had run a very long way. "My lord, are you unwell?"
Unwell? He burned as with a fever. "Go to bed, Channa Leigh."
"But..."
"Do as I say!"
At the tone of his voice, she scrambled under the covers and pulled the blankets up to her chin, only to lie there, her heart pounding. What had she done to anger him so? One minute he was kissing her sweetly and the next he was pushing her away.
She tried not to cry, but the tears came anyway.
And then she felt a warm tongue lave her cheek.
"Magick!" Wrapping her arms around the wolf's neck, she buried her face in his thick fur. "I'm so glad you're here."
The wolf dropped down beside her, a low whine rising in his throat.
"I don't understand him," she wailed softly. "I don't understand myself, what I'm feeling. He makes me feel so... strange." She stroked the wolf's fur. "He gave me my sight today. It was so wonderful. I saw the sky and the trees. And grass, and a waterfall. And his face... Oh, Magick, I saw his face. And he's so handsome. And his eyes, they seemed so familiar, as if I'd seen them before..."
Her words trailed off and she frowned. "His eyes." Her fingertips slid up the wolf's neck to his head. "His eyes are your eyes," she mused. "The same shape, the very same color. How is that possible, unless... Of course! You're him, aren't you?"
The wolf whined low in his throat.
She felt her cheeks grow warm as she remembered what she had confided to the wolf, and suddenly she hoped she was wrong, hoped that the wolf was just a wolf, hoped if he was indeed Darkfest, he would not remember her words when he shed the guise of the wolf.
When she woke in the morning, her world was dark again, and she was alone. Her first thought was for the wolf. Was he a magical wolf, or was he the wizard? Why did touching the wolf restore her vision when touching the wizard did not?
Darkfest. Sitting up, she folded her arms over her breasts. He had kissed her and she had reveled in it.
Where was he?
And then she felt a stirring inside her and knew, knew, that he was nearby.
"Good morrow, Channa Leigh."
The sound of his voice moved over her, low and husky and strangely melodic. She felt her cheeks grow warm as she remembered the touch of his lips on hers, the way she had melted against him. Was he remembering, too?
"Good morrow," she replied tremulously.
"I've brought breakfast."
His voice was closer now. He was near, she thought, near enough to touch if she but had the courage to reach out.
He touched her shoulder. "Here," he said, and placed a plate in her lap. "There is bread and fresh berries."
"Thank you, my lord."
He sat down across from her, watching her eat, his breath catching in his throat as she licked a drop of bright purple juice from the corner of her mouth. Desire flamed within him as he imagined drawing her into his arms. What a rare and wondrous pleasure it would be to kiss her now, when her lips were moist and sweet with berry juice.
He swore softly. Would she resist his embrace? She had not resisted yesterday. Had it been attraction she felt for him then or merely gratitude because he had not left that whelp in the guise of a toad?
He scowled into the distance. He doubted the lad possessed the courage to risk his wrath a second time. She had lost nothing when the boy turned tail and ran. Nothing but the love of a young man who obviously adored her.
His scowl deepened. Ronin could find another lass. As for himself, in three hundred years he had never seen another woman he wanted or desired. Only Channa Leigh had touched his heart, quickened his need, aroused his desire until it beat within him like the beat of his own heart.
He rose, glad, at that moment, that she could not see the clear evidence of his desire.
She lifted her head. "My lord?"
"I'm going to saddle the horses and load the mule," he said, his voice curt. " 'Tis time to go."
He was in a foul mood the rest of the day, unable to shake off images of Channa Leigh in Ronin's arms. Channa Leigh, cleaning the hunter's house, preparing his meals, sleeping in his arms at night. Ha, the craven hunter was not worth a single hair of her head.
Hands clenched around the reins, Darkfest swore he would see the hunter dead before he would allow Channa Leigh to be his bride. And yet, if she loved Ronin, what right did he have to interfere? What right did he have to keep her from the man she loved? What right, except that he loved her himself, loved her beyond bearing. But she was his now. His until winter cast her shadow upon the land once more. In his heart, he knew it would not be long enough.
Channa Leigh rode beside the wizard, baffled by his silence, by the anger she had heard in his voice earlier that day. She cast back in her mind but could think of nothing she had said or done to rouse his ire. Still, he had not spoken a word to her since they left their camp that morning and she had no idea why.
Her horse came to a halt a short time later. Channa Leigh's heart began to pound when she felt Darkfest's hands at her waist as he lifted her from the saddle.
"Is everything all right?" she asked.
He grunted softly. " 'Tis time to seek shelter for the night."
"My lord?"
"Aye?"
She took a deep breath. "Are you... are you angry with me?"
"Nay."
"Something is amiss. Will you not tell me what it is?"
"Ye need not worry."
"Was it my kiss?" she asked, grateful that she could not see his face. "Did it not please you?"
"Is that what ye think, lass?" he asked.
She nodded, lowering her head as heat suffused her cheeks.
Whispering her name, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her ever so gently. "Sweet," he murmured. "So sweet."
She swayed toward him, her hands resting on his chest. "More."
He willingly obliged her, his arms wrapping around her waist to draw her closer as he slanted his mouth over hers. Where his last kiss had been gentle, this one was filled with all the yearning in his soul. His tongue plundered her mouth, tasting the berries she had eaten earlier.
She boldly returned his kiss, made a soft sound of protest when he took his mouth from hers.
"Do ye love him?" Darkfest asked.
"Who?"
"The hunter, Ronin."
"Nay, my lord."
"And ye do not wish to marry him?"
"Nay, my lord, though he was my only hope."
"Another will wed ye."
She smiled up at him. "Know you who this stranger might be?"
"Ye will belong to me, lass," he said, the husky note of possession in his voice leaving no doubt that it would be so, "and to no one else."
"Are you asking me to marry you, my lord Darkfest?"
"Aye," he growled. "I'm asking." Pausing, he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice had gentled. "Will ye let me love ye all the days of your life? Will ye share your happiness with me, and yer sorrows? Will ye help me to turn away the darkness? What be yer answer, lass?"
There was nothing to think about. There could only be one answer. No one else stirred her the way he did. No one else ever would. Her memory of Ronin burned away to ash in the fire that was Darkfest.
"I should be honored to be your wife, my lord," she murmured. "You will not harm Ronin?"
"There be no need now."
"You will not turn him into a newt should we meet in the square?"
"Nay, lass," he said, grinning.
"Nor a gopher?"
He laughed softly, charmed by her gentle humor and her genuine concern for the hunter.
"Think no more of him," he said, and drawing her into his arms once again, he kissed her, long and strong, driving everything else from her mind but the wonder of his kiss.
This was right, she thought. This was where she longed to be, where she was meant to be.
That night, when it was time for bed, she slept in his arms.
Darkfest groaned softly as the light of the morning sun played over his face. Opening his eyes, he squinted against the brightness. More and more these last days, he had been bothered by the sun's glare. It made his skin feel strange, as if it was shrinking.
He had rarely spent so much time out-of-doors. At home, his days were spent within the thick gray walls of his castle. When he felt the need to go out, it was usually long after sunset. He stayed up long past midnight, preferring to sleep the day away.
Beside him, Channa Leigh slept peacefully, her cheek resting on one hand, her mouth curved in a mysterious smile. Was she dreaming of him? Did he dare walk in her dream? If she was dreaming of another, did he want to know?
He shook off his jealousy. She had said she loved him and he believed her. Deceit was unknown to Channa Leigh.
The curve of her cheek drew his hand. Lightly, so lightly, he brushed his fingertips against her skin. So soft. So warm. His gaze moved over her face, slid down the slender column of her throat to rest on the pulse beating there.
Almost, he could hear the beat of her heart, hear the blood thrumming through her veins.
With a shake of his head, he rolled to his feet, troubled by the dark thoughts rising up within him.
As if bereft of his company, Channa Leigh awoke. "My lord?"
"I am here."
She sat, one hand reaching out for him.
Hunkering down on his heels, he took her hand in his. "Something troubles ye?"
"I... I dinna know. I was dreaming. It was a lovely dream, at first. And then..." She frowned. "I dinna know what happened, but suddenly the world was dark and I was afraid."
"Dark?" He frowned. She was always in darkness.
"I dinna know how to explain it. It was not a lack of vision, but a lack of light. Do you understand?"
"Aye, lass." He understood all too well. The darkness she spoke of was the darkness that dwelled within him, but how did she know of it? If she stayed with him, would it begin to overshadow her, as well? Troubled by that thought, he released her hand and rose to his feet.
"My lord?"
"Dinna fret, lass. All is well. We will reach the valley of the dragon on the morrow."