Amanda Ashley - Midnight Pleasures

He paused in midstride, nostrils flaring. Someone was coming.

Descending the long spiral staircase, he crossed the great hall and flung open the door.

Dugald of Brynn reeled back, his eyes growing wide. One hand, lifted to pull the bell, remained frozen in midair.

Darkfest glared at the man. "What brings ye here at this hour, Dugald?"

" 'Tis my wife," the man said. Lowering his arm, he took a deep breath, shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers to still their trembling. "She's sick with a fever. Three days now."

Darkfest grunted softly. "So, what is that to me?"

"Our healer has been unable to help. I thought…" Dugald took a deep breath. "I thought perhaps you might come and have a look at her."

"Did ye?"

"Please, my lord. I'll give you anything you ask."

"Indeed? And what if the price is dear?"

"Only name it, and if it's in my power to give, it will be yours."

Channa Leigh's image rose in his mind. At last, a way to claim that which he desired. He shook off an unwelcome sense of guilt. Surely he deserved a special gift for the healing Dugald required.

"In time," Darkfest replied softly. "In time."

He caught her scent even before he entered the cottage, felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire radiating from the hearth in the corner and everything to do with her presence. She was sitting at her mother's bedside, singing softly.

"For the land that's most fair, 'tis where I shall fty,

For my true love lies there, in a glen wild and high,

And if I but wait, and yield not to despair,

I know, by and by, my love will find me

Waiting there,

Waiting there …"

The pure, clear notes trailed off as they entered the room.

She turned toward the door, head cocked to one side. "Papa?"

"Yes, child."

Darkfest stood silent behind Dugald. Channa Leigh had not asked if he had come in answer to her father's summons, but there was no need. She sensed his presence in the room. He knew it without doubt.

Channa Leigh clutched her mother's hand. "Her fever is worse."

Dugald laid a callused hand on his wife's brow. Her breathing was labored, shallow. Dark circles of pain shadowed her eyes.

"Can you heal her?" Channa Leigh asked, tears evident in her voice. "Can you?"

"If I cannot," Darkfest replied arrogantly, "then no one can."

Dugald cleared his throat, afraid to ask the question that must be asked. "And what payment will you require?"

Darkfest did not look at her, only spoke her name. "Your daughter, Channa Leigh."

Dugald blinked at him. "What?"

"I will require yer daughter."

Dugald stared at him in blatant disbelief. "My daughter!" A look of horror washed over the man's face. "But… but… she is not chattel, to be bartered back and forth like a lamb."

" 'Tis my price."

"But she is betrothed to another."

Almost, he relented. But then he recalled the loneliness of the keep, the warmth of Channa Leigh's smile. It strengthened his resolve. "I will have the girl for one year. When winter comes again, she may return home and take her vows."

Dugald shook his head. Not even to save his wife could he allow his daughter to go off with the dark wizard of the mountain.

"It canna be done," Dugald said. And then he glanced at his wife, lying so still and pale upon the bed they had shared for over thirty years. How could he abandon her now? Without the wizard's help, she would surely die.

Swallowing hard, he looked back at the man standing tall and still, waiting for his decision. "Please, my lord, have mercy on us. My wife will nae forgive me if I trade our only child for her life."

Darkfest shrugged. " 'Tis yer decision."

"I have a fine ram, and a wee bit of gold."

"I have no need of a ram," Darkfest replied brusquely. "And no need for gold."

"Please," Dugald begged, wringing his callused hands. "Be merciful."

Channa Leigh squared her shoulders. She knew what had to be done. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Papa, dinna fret. I'm not afraid. I will go with him and gladly, if it will help Mama."

"Nay, child. Yer mother would not hear of it."

"I have yer word, Channa Leigh?" Darkfest asked. "Ye will come with me, of yer own free will, and stay with me for one year?"

"Aye."

Dugald looked at his daughter as if seeing her for the first time. "Nay, Channa Leigh," he said sternly. "I forbid it."

" 'Tis done, Papa."

"Leave me," Darkfest said. "Both of ye."

Channa Leigh shook her head. "Nay, I wish to stay."

"Come, Daughter," her father said.

He reached for her hand, but she shook him off. "Nay, I will not leave Mama."

Dugald looked at the wizard. " 'Tis sorry I am," he said apologetically. "She can be most stubborn at times,."

Darkfest nodded. "Let her stay."

Dugald pressed a kiss to his wife's brow, glanced fleetingly at the wizard, who loomed like a tall dark cloud at the foot of the bed, then left the room, quietly closing the rough-hewn wooden door behind him.

Darkfest moved to the side of the bed and took the woman's hand in his. Her skin was hot and dry, her breathing labored. Why did they always wait until the soul was on the brink of flight to call him? Were they so afraid of him, so afraid of his power, his wrath? Well, they were right to fear him.

He closed his eyes and summoned his power, felt it crawl over his skin as it gathered and coalesced, felt it swell and grow until it thundered within him, until he was aware of nothing else, only the power thrumming through every fiber of his being.

He placed both hands on the woman's head, and then, channeling his strength into his hands, he began to chant softly.

"I am Darkfest, master of fire and flame. Spirit of evil, depart in my name."

He felt the fever leave the woman, felt it burn through his hands, felt the weakness that had engulfed her as the sickness left her body and entered his, to be devoured by his strength.

He took a deep breath, exhaling it in a long, slow sigh as he removed his hands from the woman. " 'Tis done."

Channa Leigh stared at him through sightless eyes. "She's healed?" A wealth of hope lay in those two words.

"Aye. She will sleep through the night and when she wakes on the morrow, she will be well."

Tears sparkled in Channa Leigh's eyes. "Thank you, my lord," she whispered tremulously.

"I have done my part." He clenched his hands at his sides, wondering if she would keep her word. Wondering what he would do if she did not. Did she but realize the power she held over him, she could have easily refused without fear of retribution. But she did not know. "Will ye now do yours?" he asked, and waited, hardly daring to breathe, for her answer.

"Aye, my lord," she said tremulously. "I will come to you whenever you say."

"Tomorrow morn."

She crossed her arms over her breasts, a shiver of unease shaking her slight shoulders. "As you will."

"Exactly as I will," he said curtly, and left the room in search of her father.

Dugald was standing near the hearth, head hanging, eyes closed. He looked up, a glimmer of hope in his deep-set eyes, as the wizard entered the room.

" 'Tis done," Darkfest said.

"You give me my wife, and take my daughter," Dugald said bitterly. He took a deep breath, and only his love for his offspring gave him courage to speak. "What will you do with her, with my Channa Leigh?"

"Whatever pleases me, old man."

Dugald's eyes widened in horror as he imagined his only child at the mercy of the wizard's every whim. "She is but a child, innocent in the ways of men."

"She is no longer your concern."

"You will not… harm her?"

"I shall expect her on the morrow." Darkfest rose to his full height. "Do not think to betray our bargain, Dugald," he warned, his voice like frost on a winter's morn, "lest a worse fate befall your woman."