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CHAPTER FOUR

The castle sat regally, comfortably above the valley it ruled over. Three stories of stone and rough wooden shingles surrounded by a wall three times a man’s height. The forest grew undisturbed around it; unlike other castle holders the wizard Galen had not cleared the trees and brush from the land around his castle as other castle owners did to prevent attacks from within the forest. The wizard depended on the magic he possessed to keep his castle safe, and all invaders from his land. Devlin sat atop his horse, just inside the boundary of that forest watching the castle and those who came and went within it.

Behind him, the three others sat astride their own steeds, as silent as the forest had become several miles back. They were being watched, but not by human spies, or human eyes, they were watched by the denizens of the forest. Devlin was unconcerned with the stalking maneuvers of the wolf pack that had trailed them closely. He had been most curious though, when those wolves had ignored the stag that had slipped quietly past them and headed in the direction of the castle.

“What man needs an army, when he has the creatures of the forest watching out for him?” Devlin remarked softly as he detected yet another forest creature watching them from the underbrush.

“Galen will already know of our arrival, Shadow,” Joshua told him, his dark voice edged with amusement. “That stag was on a mission, else it would not have passed hungry wolves so easily.”

“Those wolves are better fed than we are.” Shanar made little effort to lower his voice, the big Viking stretched in his saddle and as Devlin glanced back he caught the anticipation in the warrior’s eyes.

“The drawbridge is down, there is no sign of knights or an army awaiting us, so perhaps our arrival will be a welcome one.” Derek’s lilting Irish brogue was thick with weariness.

They had ridden hard to reach this castle, hidden deep within the forests and fabled to be impossible to find. They had ridden through the past several nights, stopping only to eat and rest their mounts before riding on.

Devlin could feel his own weariness, as he never had before. It pulled at the muscles of his back, and made his eyes heavy. It also worried him, this tiredness. Not since the Guardians had gifted him with his unusual powers had he felt such weariness. As he gazed out at the sheltered perfection of the castle the wizard had built in the middle of the forest, he felt a longing he had never truly been aware of. Lora Leigh

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His gut clenched tightly with the need to feel the peace that seemed to surround the fortress. He could hear the distant echo of laughter, the raised, playful voices of the children behind the stone wall that enclosed the castle. It was as though happiness lived in charmed perfection there, and he ached to be a part of it. It was an ache he knew would never be relieved. Never had the warriors been welcomed into any man’s home with laughter and warmth. They were the champions of the gods, rarely welcomed at all, but tolerated for their fighting gifts. As he sat there, debating the safety of their arrival, a form rode onto the drawbridge. Devlin sat up straighter in his saddle, his eyes narrowing at the vision that began to cross it.

A young woman of perhaps eighteen years, her hair unbound, the white blonde mass falling from her head down her back to caress the muscular back of her white steed. Devlin tensed, his memories of his midnight lover rising so clear that it caused his cock to rise as well. That fickle flesh became engorged with heat, demanding the slick, perfect portal it would find between this woman’s thighs. This woman who tempted his dreams and had him spurting his seed in lonely splendor. She rode leisurely, but her head was raised, her eyes looking expectantly into the forest where Devlin sat with his men. It was she. It could be no other.

“Galen’s daughter perhaps?” Joshua spoke. “She’s leaving without guards. The wizard Galen does not protect his treasures as well as I would have thought.”

A growl from the underbrush denied that charge. Without taking his eyes from the young woman, Devlin was aware that the wolves had moved closer to them and now watched them with heightened senses.

“Perhaps her guards are already in place,” he drawled in amusement as he continued to watch the woman riding towards them with renewed interest. What trick of the demon Guardians was this that the very image that haunted his most erotic nights was also the daughter of the sorcerer he sought? What magic had she practiced on him to bewitch his sleep?

It didn’t take her long to reach them, though Devlin no longer cared if this mission was accomplished in haste. He was entranced with the form and the face of the girl meeting them.

Her white blonde hair framed a face striking in its strength and beauty. High cheekbones, and wide, slanted emerald green eyes were a perfect contrast to the pert nose, and full pink lips. Lips that his cock well knew, lips that his own had taken as their orgasms shattered them.

She wore a long white silk gown, and over it a brilliant green tunic that made her eyes darker, mysterious. There was a suggestion of warmth that reached out to Devlin, one that confused and bewildered him.

As she neared, the wolves once hidden now moved from the shadowed underbrush of the forest to surround her as they watched the men suspiciously. It was apparent that Lora Leigh

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they felt none of the assurance that this woman seemed to carry about her like an invisible shield of strength.

“Sir Devlin.” She stopped her mount several feet from them, a smile tilting her lips and sparkling in her eyes. Her voice was a soft caress across his frayed nerves, bringing a sense of peace, of homecoming. “My father, Galen, welcomes you to our castle, and wonders at your delay within the forest. We have a hot meal, cool drinks and fresh beds prepared for you and your men. Would you like to come in now?”

She teased them, surely. Devlin had never been so welcomed to any man’s domain. The Shadow Warriors were feared and distrusted, even though their services were in high demand. They were the Warriors of the Guardians, undefeated and having powers that even the most wise among men could not explain.

And what man would send his daughter, one so enchanting, to meet such a group of men?

Chantel’s head tilted, her eyes watching him curiously as a small smile played at the corners of her lips.

“And why, dear lady, would the wizard Galen welcome us so eagerly?” Devlin leaned forward, bracing his arm on the pommel of the saddle as he regarded her. The frown that crossed his face seemed to have little effect on her though. The smile that had merely flirted with her tender pink lips now bloomed in amusement and warmth. She seemed to tease him with that look, chiding him for his distrust.

“Sir Devlin, I am Lady Chantel, daughter to Galen. The Guardians have already apprised my father of your quest, and the reasons you are here. He is ready to speak with you of it.” She paused, a slender white blonde brow arching questioningly. “That is, if you are willing to enter his castle, instead of lounging within the forest?”

The Guardians had already apprised the wizard of his quest? He should have known better than to believe they would have left this matter alone. Should have known that somehow, somewhere, it had been they who brought him the lover of his dreams.

“Very well, we humbly accept your offer, Lady Chantel.” He bowed his head graciously, all the while unable to take his eyes from the beauty of her face. Unable to trust in her, unable to believe she truly stood before him in the flesh.

“Come along then.” She graced them once again with her smile as slender fingers turned the reins guiding her steed.

She moved ahead of them, her hair blowing in the breeze, her slender hips shifting gently as she sat regally in the lady’s saddle.

“Quite a welcoming, wouldn’t you say?” Joshua moved in close as he voiced Devlin’s own suspicions.

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“The Guardians’ interference was something I had hoped to avoid,” Devlin sighed as he spoke of the misty gods who led the warriors into their battles. “I had hoped they would allow us to handle this on our own.”

Joshua snorted derisively. Devlin didn’t blame him for the sentiment; the Guardians were becoming burdensome with their demands and their interference. Devlin was certain there were even times they were working against them.

“Perhaps the wizard will hold the answers we seek,” Derek spoke up softly. “If he knows the Guardians very well at all, then he will be aware of their ways. Perhaps that will aid us.”

“Perhaps.” Devlin wasn’t counting on anything. He had learned the hard way how often greed and the chance to please the gods affected other men. He was afraid this quest was just another he had made in vain.

* * * * *

As Chantel rode ahead of the men, she fought to keep her heartbeat steady, her mind clear of confusion. Her father had warned her that once she stepped past the walls of the castle then the Guardians would know of her thoughts. She couldn’t risk that, not yet.

So she thought instead of the warrior whose eyes she could feel trained upon her back. She blushed at where those thoughts were willing to lead her. In her mind’s eye, Chantel could still see his fierce frown, the suspicion in his hell’s black gaze. He was dusty, and obviously worn from his journey through the mountains and into the forest where her father had made their home. Yet, he still hesitated in accepting the offer of welcome. As though such offers made would always hold the threat of betrayal.

Chantel ached for the life she knew this man had lived. Devoid of love, separated from his home, and destined to fight against an evil such as Jonar. He appeared to be a warrior well able to fight the dark lord though.

The Shadow was obviously tall, and well muscled. His black eyes were filled with danger and mystery, his sun-darkened face strong and masculine. Wide, arching brows as black as midnight, his lips full, but straightened into a controlled line. His cheekbones were well defined, a hard slash below the bottomless depths of his eyes. His reputation, of course, had preceded even the Guardians’ warning of his arrival. The Shadow was spoken of only in hushed, fearful tones; a warrior who had achieved the approval of the gods, and in turn had been gifted with abilities to far surpass any other men.

It was rumored he would disappear into the shadows in a way that even the animals of the forest would be unaware of his passing. He could see into the souls of men with his eyes, or carry his own steed with his bare hands. Lora Leigh

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To Chantel, he appeared every bit that strong, but she had glimpsed more in his eyes. She had glimpsed a man lost, one searching for home. It was there in the slight droop of his shoulders, the way he had watched the castle with an air of envy. This was a man who wanted more than the battles he sought out each day. And she knew from his whispered words, thought only to be a dream by him, how he longed for more than the battles he fought.

Thankfully, the ride back to the castle wasn’t a long one. Within minutes, Chantel was passing through the high stone gates once again, and was able to drop the shield she had been forced to place about her thoughts.

Peace descended and she relaxed, allowing herself to turn and glance once again at the men following her.

Chantel wondered if they hadn’t sensed the change when they passed the drawbridge themselves. They surveyed the interior of the castle walls eagerly, as though they had found something here that they had sought for a long while. Chantel could tell them what it was they sought, but she knew they would still not understand its meaning.

As their horses drew to a halt, the people of the castle gathered within the courtyard to witness the arrival. Visitors were few and far between within the stone walls Galen called his own. This was an event they all wished to see.

“Ah, you have finally arrived.” Galen moved through the crowd of gathering servants with a smile on his face.

Her father was still a trim, handsome man. His dark brown hair was barely graying; his misty blue eyes were still sharp and filled with purpose. And as always, he was eager to thwart the Guardians in any manner possible.

Chantel worried that the day would come when the gods would realize how her father dallied with their requests.

“You are the wizard Galen?” Devlin paused beside Chantel as he began to aid her in dismounting as well.

Chantel’s breath stopped as his hands spanned her waist, lingering there as he turned to glance at the wizard who now stood before him. The touch of his hands warmed her skin, caused her thighs to ache. And between them, her sex throbbed urgently. She could feel the soft slide of her slick juices there, the moisture gathering, seeping from the sheltering lips that protected her sensitive, female entrance. She ached there as well as in her breasts. She could feel her face flaming as those full mounds became swollen, sensitive, the tips needing the caress she had known only in her dreams from this man. His hot mouth covering them, suckling at her, his teeth nipping. She drew in a deep, slow breath, praying for control. Slowly, his big hands amazingly gentle, Devlin lifted her from her steed and set her on her feet. If his fingers seemed to caress the silk of her gown at her hips as he released her, Chantel wasn’t about to protest. The warmth of them, the magic of their strength seemed to seep into her very bones.

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“I am Galen.” Chantel watched as her father noticed the lingering touch, and fought to ignore the blush staining her cheeks. “Come. Come into the castle. I have had water prepared for your baths, and food kept warm for your arrival.”

Her father turned and led the way through the massive courtyard to the open doors of the castle. Chantel watched as the men exchanged confused looks among themselves. It was obvious that Galen was not what the men had expected in the wizard they sought. Galen dressed in rough, though clean, gray breeches and a white tunic belted at the waist with a simple rope of leather. His boots weren’t fashionable, but worn for function instead. Her father was still known to enter the fields and work side by side with the peasants he protected.

“You will find my father shares many of your suspicions towards the Guardians,”

Chantel informed Devlin softly. “Come into the castle so you may bathe and eat. He will discuss your request with you at the evening meal, or tomorrow’s breakfast, whichever better suits your needs.”

Chantel led the way, aware they were following slowly, watching the people and the courtyard in bemusement. Sadly, she was aware that these men were rarely welcomed into any man’s home. Their services might be in great demand, but they were still feared among those who they protected.

“Your father is too trusting,” Devlin told her darkly as they stepped into the open doorway. “He should be more careful.”

“Are you here to cause us harm, Sir Devlin?” Chantel glanced back at him, her heart heavy as she glimpsed the hunger in his eyes as he entered the brightly lit great hall.

“No, Lady,” he replied huskily, pausing as though to soak in the homey atmosphere of the room spread out before him. “I would never cause you harm.”

In his voice, Chantel heard the longing. How he must ache inside, she thought, surely as desperately as she ached these many years as she waited for him. Chantel battled her tears as Devlin gazed around the warm and well-lit area of the huge main room. His eyes watched with equal parts suspicion and need battling within them.

“Then my father is justified in his trust of you.” Motioning to the waiting servants, she turned to face the men fully. “Your rooms have been prepared with a hot bath, as well as wine and a light snack before your meal. If you will follow us.”

Three women flanked Chantel, each indicating to the warrior they had been assigned to serve to follow them. Chantel turned to Devlin, indicating that he should follow her.

Chantel could feel the confusion emanating from him as they climbed the stairs set off to the side to the second floor of the castle.

Devlin moved cautiously behind her, searching the shadows for betrayal as she led him to his room. How many times, she wondered, had he been given a false welcome only to combat his enemies when his back should have been secure?

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Galen had told Chantel all the stories he had gathered of the warriors over the years. The many betrayals they had experienced, the pain they had suffered in the years they had been fighting for the gods.

They fought an enemy that Mother Earth assured her the warriors could never defeat in this time. Jonar carried too much magic, too many tools of the gods for man to defeat. Yet, she had promised her that the day would come when Devlin and his men would be victorious, and that she herself would be the key to his victory. Chantel led the warrior to his room, opening the door and walking in slowly. Her heart was beating fiercely, her knees almost shaking as she entered the room first. As Devlin passed by her, Chantel closed the door, aware of the tension gripping his big body.

There was a heavy silence in the room as he turned to look at her. His black gaze was hooded, his face lined with weariness, yet his body alert and ready for action. In his eyes, she read his suspicions, his bitterness as past lessons rose to taunt him.

“So are you here to perform, Lady?” He turned on her slowly, his eyes narrowed as he watched her darkly. “I was unaware that Galen’s daughter played whore for the Guardians.”

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