Calgaich the Swordsman by Gordon D. Shirreffs Read Free Book Online Page B

as they had come.
    "Woman,” he said quietly from the shadows.
    She walked toward him as though under a spell.
    "The tunic,” he said patiently.
    She stripped it from her body and felt the gooseflesh rise on her skin. He took the tunic from her hands. "Get into the bed,” he ordered.
    She crawled naked over the cloak and lay down, looking up at him. She was not frightened. She had expected it long before this night.
    Calgaich bent over the lovely, naked creature looking up at him. He hesitated and then passed a hand across her thick dark hair, then down along a smooth cheek and thence to her throat to linger there a moment. His hand lightly touched her hardening nipples. Suddenly he bent closer and began to gather her up into his arms. His breath came quickly in his throat. Cairenn began trembling, sure the time had come. For what seemed an eternity he held her, and then his grip slackened.
    Calgaich stood up. He looked down at her, and then he lifted a fold of the cloak and flung it over her smooth white body. He turned his back to her and pulled his tunic over his head. He drew on his trousers and swiftly crossgartered them to his knees. He stood erect and withdrew the magnificent sword from its bronze sheath. Then he walked through the dark passageway while fighting back an almost overpowering woman-hunger within himself. The woman-smell was faint within the tunic but it was surely there.
    Cairenn could not hear his soft footsteps within the dark passageway, but she did hear the clashing of the metal bosses on the hide door as he drew it aside. Long minutes passed during which she remembered the touch of his hand on her body, his strength as he had lifted her to him. Remembered her fear that it would surely happen now, and then the strange emptiness When he had pushed her back to the rough bed of bracken covered by his cloak. She waited and listened for his return, unable to quiet the beating of her heart. But he did not come, and finally she fell asleep.
    Later, Calgaich came silently into the chamber. He crouched beside the embers of the fire and warmed his hands. He sat down on some of the bracken and rested his back against a pillar. He had his war spear close by his side and the naked sword rested across his thighs. He watched the dark entrance to the passageway for several minutes. At last he turned his head and looked toward where Cairenn slept on the rough bed of bracken. Her dark hair cushioned the pearl of her face. And suddenly he thought of Morar, the Golden One, and his vow to return to his land and claim her as his wife. Morar, for whose honor he had fought and won a bitter victory. But he must not think of her and in so doing take his lust for her out on this cumal —who was not worthy of his seed. Ah, but she was beautiful as she lay sleeping. The glow from the dying embers touched the ridges of her cheeks, gave color to her lips.
    Sleep had finally come to her when she had given up wishing for its comfort. She dreamed she was back in her father’s rath again, clothed in soft woolen tunics brought to her from the northern settlements, her long hair being brushed by a fine gold comb. Suddenly the old images fled and she felt a hand close over her mouth and nose. She opened her eyes and looked up into Calgaich’s shadowed face only inches away from hers. “Do not make a sound,” he whispered. “Say nothing. Get up.”
    She stood up when he released her. She wrapped the cloak around her and then realized it was shorter. Calgaich had cut long strips from the bottom of it while she had been sleeping. She knew their purpose. She bound them about her bare feet with the strips of leather he had placed beside them.
    Calgaich stood beyond the bed of ashes leaning on his spear. Faint gray light filtered down into the chamber from somewhere up above them. When she was ready, he crooked a finger at her. She followed him along the passageway. He paused at the hide covering the entrance. Gray light showed through