Egan felt no better, but the ride was not long, and he greeted Yowan with an easy smile. A fallen limb would provide a handy step back into the saddle, and while he had to take care, he did risk dismounting here. He walked around the wing and tried to imagine it carrying him through the air. His cousins were lashing the last bit of calfskin to the ends of the frame, while Yowan had been working on the harness.
“Is it heavy?” Egan asked.
“Nay.” Yowan reached down to lift the wing with one hand. “We’ll carry it up Mount Royal for you, but you’ll scarcely feel its weight when you’re in the air.”
“I’m grateful for your knowledge and your splendid work,” Egan responded. “I’ll reward you all after the flight.”
Oriana had remained on her mare, but she noted the knowing glance passing between Egan’s cousins and wondered if they had expected to be paid first. “If this wing doesn’t work as it should, Egan won’t be alive to reward you, nor should you expect it,” she emphasized.
Unaware of what had prompted Oriana’s outburst, Egan could only shake his head. “Aye, my lady, they already understand that.”
Aghast at her doubts, Yowan hastened to her side. “You need have no fears. Our wing will work as perfectly as a falcon’s do. You’ll see.” He looked toward his sons and Egan for support, and received encouraging nods.
Albyn tested the weight of the wing himself and was satisfied it was both light and strong. “We’re all cold and wet. Let’s return to the fortress.”
Yowan scanned the darkening sky. “The wing will be safe in the tree, and I’ll bring the harness back with me. You go first, and we’ll follow.”
Thinking that a fine idea, Egan led Raven alongside the fallen limb and eased himself back into the saddle. He winked at Oriana to convey a silent promise that he would warm her quite thoroughly once they reached home.
Kieran had overseen the construction of his wing, but now that the heavy linen had been securely stitched to the frame, he was anxious to give it a try. They had been working near the stable where the wing had been stored at night, but before the wing could be carried through the fortress gate, huge raindrops began to splatter the ground.
Kieran rested his hands on his hips and swore a string of bitter oaths. “Birds are too smart to fly in the rain, so I’ll not risk it, but the weather has to clear before the eve of Samhain.”
His companions shrugged and echoed that hope, but only one dared voice his opinion. “You need make only one flight, my lord, and with the rain, Egan will have no practice either.”
“Aye, that’s true enough, but I’d still like to haul the wing around the back of Mount Royal where we’d not be observed and fly it.”
The man who had fashioned the harness trailed a long leather thong through his fingers. “It would be easier to build a new wing than repair this one if it’s damaged. I say we not take that risk.”
Kieran listened to the low murmur of approval for that opinion, but he still felt uneasy. “It’s my own safety that concerns me, not a heap of wood and linen. If the weather clears, I’ll try it.”
He walked away rather than argue, but his enthusiasm for flight was beginning to fade. Had he not had Fiona to ease his mind as well as his body, his mood would have been very dark indeed. As he went to find her now, he convinced himself that he was the stronger and better man. By Samhain, he would be king.
Egan shoved open the door to his chamber and ushered Oriana inside. A fire was already glowing brightly on the hearth, and he peeled away her damp cloak and urged her toward it. As soon as he had flung his own cloak aside, he stepped up behind her and wrapped her in an enthusiastic hug.
“Now that you’ve seen my wing, what do you think of your plan?” he asked.
Oriana crossed her arms over his. “We took advantage of Kieran’s reckless streak, but I would have gone to any extreme to save your life.”
“Was it extreme to believe that I could actually fly?” Egan dipped his head to nuzzle her damp curls, and then licked the dip behind her ear.
“Nay, for you appear to rejoice in extremes.” Oriana loved his playful attentions, but remained pensive. “Maybe it will rain for months, and you’ll not have to risk a flight until spring.”
“Samhain is usually dry.” Egan doubted that she would understand, but he was exhilarated by the chance to fly.
“Kieran will drop like a stone,” he predicted convincingly, “and with a remarkably smooth flight, I’ll win the challenge two contests to his one. Though no king’s reign is without conflict of one sort or another, we’ll face each one together and prosper as we were meant to.”
“I want to believe that,” Oriana replied wistfully.
Egan turned her in his arms and kissed her so deeply, she was left clinging to his tunic. “Do you believe this?” he murmured before kissing her again.
Despite her lingering apprehension, Oriana welcomed Egan’s affectionate kisses with a hunger that swiftly inspired him to take her to bed. She slipped out of her gown without coaxing and moved to kneel astride him and take him with slow, shallow dips.
He chuckled at her game and allowed her to play it until he needed more than sweet teasing. He strengthened his hold on her waist then, and pulled her down hard to bury himself deep. He loved the way desire clouded her gaze before she closed her eyes in surrender.
Giving himself up to their shared passion, he was again amazed that though his torn side had forced them to slow their lovemaking, the more leisurely pace had also greatly heightened their pleasure. He thought he would be more likely to die in Oriana’s arms than in a leap from Mount Royal, but when she satisfied him so completely, such an untimely death struck him as positively noble.
He rested on the verge of sleep and stroked Oriana’s curls with fond caresses. “Had Albyn not been with us, I’d have made love to you in the forest,” he whispered.