Soul Magic by Karen Whiddon

Author:Karen Whiddon [Whiddon, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 0505525941
Publisher: Love Spell
Published: 2003-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Though Ellete slumbered peacefully beside her, Alanna could not sleep. Instead, she lay watching, struck by the child’s petite delicacy and femininity. Ellette was so different from Caradoc, even in slumber. Where Caradoc was a restless sleeper, Ellete barely moved. One hand tucked beneath her head, a faint smile curving her lips, she apparently dreamt peacefully of better things.

Caradoc! Ah, Caradoc. How Alanna missed him. Soon, Goddess willing, she would hold him again in her arms.

Though she wanted to think only of her son, thoughts of Darrick intruded. Alanna had never forgotten how his body once fit with hers, nor the wild, earth-shattering passion of their single mating so long ago. Once she had longed for him in every waking hour, with every breath she took. When they’d finally given in to their mutual desire, the result had been passionate and beautiful. What Morfran had done to her after, the brutality and ugliness of his rape, had managed to banish her memory of Darrick’s lovemaking.

Until now. Recently, they’d begun to resurface. And now, where she’d once only ached, she burned.

She feared to be alone with him – knowing how easily the passion flared to life between them. Having Ellette stay with her was her own way of cowardly making sure it did not. If Darrick were to come to her tent again, she doubted she would find the strength to resist him. Having the small child with her acted as a barrier.

Darrick. Would she ever see him again when this was over? Once she had Caradoc and returned home, truly it would best for Darrick if she severed all ties, leaving him free to find a noble, mortal wife and start his family.

Best for him – but what of her? How would her heart withstand the pain?

As a distraction from such distressing thoughts, Alanna turned her thoughts to the ancient legend. Again she replayed the riddle’s cryptic verses in her mind. Pairs of pairs. Over the centuries many had interpreted this stanza – with results as varied as the seasons. In the end, all thought it meant simply that she, a Reagan, must marry Darrick, a Tadhg or poet, and bear his child.

But fate had intervened. Her destiny had not been Madonna/savior as Wynne had planned. She was no legendary magical princess, nor self-styled savior for the troubles of her people. All she was, her entire sense of self - besides her mostly honorary title as Princess of Rune - was based on her being Caradoc’s mother. And that was all she wanted to be.

Mother. Not warrior woman, nor heroine.

Nor lover. Never again.

Or did she merely attempt to shield the truth from herself? Not since the days before Morfran’s brutality had she thought of herself that way. As a lover.

No. Not now. Not ever.

With sleep still eluding her, like an arrow her thoughts returned to Darrick. The simple beauty of his grudging smile. The warmth that burned in his dark eyes, lighting his face from within. And, for the

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