Warrior's Redemption by Mayhue Melissa

Author:Mayhue, Melissa [Mayhue, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781451640878
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2011-12-27T08:00:00+00:00

Twenty-one

IF HE WERE to slice her throat now, to bleed her dry as she lay helpless in the thrall of her visions, he would never again suffer the vexation of her stubborn resistance.

He also would never learn the content of those visions. That knowledge alone stayed his hand.

Torquil of Katanes, laird of the MacDowylt, chosen son of Odin, looked out on the sparkling stars dotted across an inky night sky and roared in frustration.

At his feet, his half sister, Christiana, lay on a bed of cushions, lost in the visions that even now danced across her face in shadows he was at a loss to interpret.

That power had been denied him.

Delicate and fragile, she was the exact image of the dark-haired Tinkler whore his father had married after his mother’s death. That the blood of his ancestors, the mighty Gods of Asgard, ran through her tainted body sickened him. That the power of the ancient seid, the magic of their ancestors, lay in her hands infuriated him. It was a power that should have been his.

The half-breed abominations his father had spawned with the Tinkler were a stain on the world, an insult to the purity of their bloodline, for which he would never forgive his father. He had no doubt that Odin had never forgiven the old man, either, as evidenced by Alfor’s recent death. It was Odin’s punishment, as much as the potions he personally had prepared for his father, that had been to blame for Alfor’s final days of suffering.

Now, as it should, it fell to him and him alone to redeem the family line and reclaim the greatness of their destiny. Before he was finished, the world would answer to him as it once had to his mighty ancestor.

Christiana moaned, tossing her head from side to side as if attempting to escape the hold of the gods’ visions, and he nudged her side with the toe of his boot.

Another moan and her eyes fluttered open, a blue so darkly vivid, they were almost violet. Framed in a thick lace of black, the eyes of the old gods stared out at him.

Perhaps when she reached the end of her usefulness, before he tossed her body to its final indignity in the ground, he would carve out those eyes and give them the honor of the pyre their bloodline deserved.

“What did you see?” he demanded, stepping away from her. “Does Dermid yet return with the tribute from my southern holdings?”

She pushed herself up to sit, every movement a study of grace and fluidity, belying her filthy heritage.

“You haven’t long to wait, Torquil. Even now I see my brother making preparations for his return to Tordenet Castle.”

“Are his pack animals laden heavy with the MacGahan silver?”

He wanted every coin in Malcolm’s possession. He wanted his prideful half brother broken in spirit and, one day, in body. Oh, he knew of his father’s wish to give the MacGahan holdings to Malcolm to possess for his own; he simply didn’t choose to honor that wish.

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