Dawn Of Desire - Page 2

Egan laughed as though she had just told an amusing joke. When he noticed Oriana’s slight frown, he thoughtfully reined in what he saw as a natural response to such an absurd question, but it was only because he dared not insult her.

“I’ll not reveal my methods, dear lady, for if by some chance we’re separated, I’ll need that same means to find you again. But I’ll wager it won’t take me half as long the next time.”

Oriana valued her privacy far too highly to accept such a self-assured boast calmly. “You, sir, are an arrogant swine,” she replied coldly.

Rather than violently disagree, Egan inclined his head slightly. “Aye, you’re not the first to have made such an unkind observation, but as I said, you’ll be well paid for your prophecies, and my gratitude, should they prove useful, will be endless.”

Oriana had been raised to flee at the first sign of trouble, and it was only through a great act of will that she had remained with Egan for as long as she had. He was most definitely cause for alarm because if he had found her, then Duncan could as well.

She needed time to think, but alas, Egan would surely allow her none, and the longer she tarried in the village, the closer Duncan would undoubtedly come to her trail. She closed her eyes, but this time it truly was in serious contemplation, and she was swiftly presented with a plan so desperate she thought it just might succeed.

She needed only the space of two breaths to decide that she and Egan might each profit by serving the other. When viewed in that regard, Egan did not simply pose a thorny new problem; he offered the perfect solution to another.

Oriana was uncertain she actually possessed the courage to suggest such a bold plan, and had to clear her throat to dislodge a painful lump before she was able to speak. “I shall require more than promises of gold and exotic crystals to assist you.”

Although elated that she was at last discussing the matter, Egan’s brows dipped in a puzzled frown. “More than gold? Just what is it you want from me, Oriana?”

As a suggestive grin slid across his lips, it became plain what he hoped she would ask. But Oriana fully expected to wed one of the splendid gods who dwelt in the Otherw

orld, and she was not even tempted to conduct more than business with a mortal, no matter how handsome. She did not want to offend him, though, and took the precaution of weighing her words before she answered.

“I mentioned a man who wishes me dead. If you’ll serve as my champion and kill him, then I will accompany you home most willingly.”

It was now Egan who had to lean back to put more space between them. Oriana was regarding him with a level, faintly curious gaze, and he recognized her ploy for the outrageous dare it was. She expected him to refuse and depart. But now that he had finally found her, he did not want to risk losing her for any reason, even this absurd demand.

“Aye, my lady. I’ll be your champion,” he vowed, all traces of mirth gone from his expression. He sincerely doubted she could have made an enemy he could not dispatch with a single mighty blow of his sword. “But because I am so eager to risk my life for yours,” he countered, “we must visit my home before we attack your enemy.”

“No,” Oriana said resisting stubbornly, for now that he had agreed to help her, she intended to hold him to his word. “Once we reach your home, you’ll have no time to help me. Duncan must be slain first.”

“Duncan? I’ve heard the name, but know him not.”

“You do not wish to know him, sir, for he is an evil man who blames me for his misfortune even though I could have done nothing to save his intended bride’s life. If you have found me, then he may also be near, and surely you do not wish to slay him where an entire village can witness the deed. Now, help me fold up my tent, and we’ll be on our way.”

Astonished by the abrupt change in Oriana’s attitude, Egan’s mouth nearly fell agape. “You intend to give me orders?”

That he had apparently not even considered such a remarkable occurence made Oriana laugh in spite of the seriousness of her mood. “Yes, indeed I do, sir. Why have you gone to the trouble of seeking me out if you plan to disregard what I say?”

Egan was known for his eloquence, but he simply stared at Oriana, and convinced he had gotten the worst of their bargain, he slowly rose and slipped out of her tent. The ends of four long branches had been buried in the ground to support the coarse fabric walls, all of which hung at peculiar angles, and he thought most children could have constructed a more attractive structure.

“Did Lugh not teach you how to make a better tent?” he asked. With a single fierce yank he ripped the fabric from the branches before Oriana had time to leave her comfortable cushion. Ignoring her surprise, he bowed low, and then rolled the material over his arms to fashion a neat parcel.

Blinded by the sudden brightness of the sun, Oriana quickly looked down at her ornate pouch. Egan surely must have understood that she expected him to allow her the opportunity to exit the small enclosure before he tore it apart. He had acted precipitously out of spite, but she refused to allow him to gloat, and rose with a graceful ease to face him.

She was taller than most women, but her head barely reached his shoulder. He had very wide shoulders, she noted, and a broad chest that narrowed to a flat belly and lean hips. His worn tunic hid none of those superb physical assets, and his leggings were pulled tight over long, powerful legs made taut by his belligerent stance. When she ended her slow perusal and glanced up, she found him observing her with a mocking grin.

“Well, my lady, do you find me fit enough to serve as your champion? But I forgot, you undoubtedly know just how worthy I am, don’t you?”

Oriana clutched her ornate bag more tightly; other than the fact Egan was in some terrible danger, she could discern nothing about his future. She was confident that he had one, but for some maddening reason it was hidden from her, and that was a very troubling sensation for one who survived solely on her ability to know what others did not. Unwilling to share such a damaging confidence, she merely nodded.

“Aye, Egan, I expect you’ll do.”

Egan could not recall another woman ever dismissing him so casually, and his expression simmered between annoyance and disgust as he watched Oriana gather up her belongings. Her cushion was actually a spacious bag that contained her clothing. Once she had removed her long cloak from inside, there was ample room to slide in the small cushion he had used, along with the little basket that held coins and bits of hack silver, and the embroidered bag containing what he assumed were magical stones.

She went about her task with such fluid grace that Egan was swiftly distracted by visions of how beautifully she would dance. There were such talented musicians nearby that he was tempted to spend a while longer at the fair to satisfy his curiosity, but when Oriana wasted not a single motion before donning her cloak and pulling the hood low to hide her face, he knew she would never agree.

“You’ll not need your cloak on such a lovely afternoon,” he advised.

“Not for warmth, surely,” Oriana agreed, “but I’d rather not give those who’ve not yet seen me the opportunity to do so.”

Tags: Phoebe Conn Historical
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