Enchantress Page 22

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Ayla was roused from her bed just moments after she had fallen to sleep by an insistent knocking. She got up and opened the door to find a sheepish Durukan standing there.

  “May I speak with you a moment?” He asked quietly.

  “Durukan,” Ayla frowned, “it’s so late. What are you doing here?”

  “I will only take a moment, Ayla,” he pleaded. “I didn’t want to interrupt the henna ceremony earlier but I badly wanted to speak to you in private before tomorrow.”

  Ayla hadn’t been able to speak to Durukan alone and explain the reason she'd chosen Rannulf, so she expected a confrontation. She just hadn’t been expecting it the night before her wedding. She sighed, thinking it was no more than she deserved for being a coward about facing her childhood friend in the first place.

  “Come in then,” she said and held the door open.

  Durukan entered the tent and quietly sat on the carpet, waiting for Ayla to join him. When she did, he handed her a cloth bundle that she hadn’t noticed he'd been holding.

  “What is this?” She asked in surprise.

  “Call it a wedding present,” he said with a sad smile.

  “Durukan, no,” she tried to hand it back to him. “I can’t accept anything from you after behaving so badly.”

  “You only followed you heart,” he pushed the present back to her. “I wanted you to know I hold no grudge against you or your Norman. I want you to be happy and safe. That's why you must have this.”

  Ayla opened the cloth and found a delicate, curved dagger with a silver sheath encrusted in jewels. She gasped and ran her hand along its length.

  “It’s so beautiful, Durukan,” she said, “but I don’t understand the significance.”

  “I will not be the one to protect you,” he sighed, “and so I want to be sure you can protect yourself.”

  “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “for the dagger and your acceptance. You have no idea how much your friendship means to me.”

  “I hope he will make you very happy, Ayla,” he said gently then got up and left.

  Ayla stared at the precious gift and wondered about the man who gave it to her. She hoped he would find someone to make him as happy as Rannulf made her. He was such a good man and she was overwhelmed by the amount of strength he'd just displayed by accepting both her decision and her cowardice in facing him. He had a right to be angry with her but instead he gave her his blessing and a gift.

  “May the gods bless you too, Durukan,” she whispered.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Ayla’s father performed the ceremony before the gathered tribes, who proudly bore witness to the union of Ayla and Rannulf. The couple stood before them, with hands clasped and Faruk spoke the sacred words that would bind them together in this life. Rannulf looked down at his wife and said a silent prayer to the Goddess that Ayla be by his side forever. Then he wondered how many times he'd made that same prayer, how many times he'd bound himself to this woman.

  Drums began to beat wildly in celebration and Rannulf lifted his bride off her feet and swung her around in happiness. The crowd cheered in delight. Then Faruk put a hand on Rannulf’s shoulder and Rannulf turned to look at him.

  “Today I have given you my greatest treasure,” Faruk said with tears in his eyes. “May you always treat her as such.”

  “On my honor,” Rannulf said seriously as he put a hand on Faruk’s shoulder. “She's my life.”

  Those simple words reassured Faruk more than any elaborate declaration could have. He nodded at his new son-in-law and smiled a blessing upon them both.

  Yelda walked up with Akara. She'd been standing on their left so that Akara could witness the ceremony but now the child was done waiting. Akara gurgled and waved both arms in excitement. Ayla laughed and reached for him.

  “You son approves, Husband,” she said and held the baby out to him.

  All along her arms were ancient symbols and designs, drawn there the night before during the henna ritual. She looked like an exotic princess.

  Rannulf took Akara and lifted him up to look at him, face to face. He peered at the boy’s sparkling eyes and for a moment he saw the Goddess smiling at him. Then the illusion vanished and it was once again the child. Akara cocked his head to the side and smiled as if he knew. He reached out and laid his hand on Rannulf’s forehead and Rannulf felt as if he'd just passed some sort of test. Maybe Ayla was right, his son certainly seemed to be a special baby.

  “I’m glad to have that approval,” Rannulf finally said. “I don’t believe our son will be an easy man to cross.

  With those words, Ayla glimpsed the man Akara would become and she smiled in pride. She saw him riding a white stallion across Seljuk land, laughing with abandon. Behind him, the power of the elements followed at his command. Lightning flashed and fires blazed but they were all held in check by Akara.

  The vision receded and Ayla reached out to stroke the baby’s soft head. Your day will come, she thought. But for now, I will take care of you. Rannulf looked down at Ayla and raised an eyebrow but she shook her head, let her husband have his own visions.

  There was great feasting that night in honor of their union. Lambs were roasted; heavily spiced vegetables were served, along with dates, oranges, figs and warm flatbread. The drums continued to beat on and women got up to dance. Their skirts swirled out around them as they twisted and turned to the earthy music. Then Ayla joined them and the others seemed to disappear for Rannulf.

  Ayla danced into the group of women and let the beat move her body. She swayed and turned, lifting her feet in intricate steps and swishing her hips from side to side. Then she danced over to Rannulf and began to move for him alone. It reminded him of the night in Antioch, when they'd first made love, and his blood heated from the memory.

  The dance went on and on, Ayla’s body dipping suggestively before him. Her eyes seduced him easily, with their thick lashes and lining of kohl. Those eyes enthralled him and brought him to his feet. The onlookers cheered as Rannulf lifted Ayla in his arms and began to carry her to their tent. After the previous night’s enforced celibacy, Rannulf could wait no longer.

  The women closed around them as Rannulf started toward their new yurt. The tribesmen in turn, surrounded the women and the people danced in circles about them, cheering and trilling, as the newlyweds made their way through the camp. Surprisingly, Rannulf enjoyed the celebration. His own heart seemed to be leaping in time to the drumbeats and the crowd was elevating his excitement.

  When they finally reached the tent, the people parted and let them through while they sprinkled scented water on them in blessing. The scent of orange blossoms filled the night as Rannulf shut the little, wooden door behind them. Inside the yurt the drums were slightly muffled but the sounds of celebration were still heard. Yelda had taken Akara for the night, so they were completely alone in their new home.

  Rannulf let Ayla slide down his body and kissed her lingeringly. When the kiss ended he smiled down into her eyes, feeling happier and more at peace than he'd ever felt. She was truly his now, no one could take her from him. He brushed the scarf off her head and started to undo her long braid of hair that hung down to her knees. He loved to see her hair flowing around her.

  Ayla untied the sash at her waist as Rannulf worked on her hair, then let it drop to the floor. Her kaftan fell open and she quickly let it drop as well. Rannulf divested himself of his attire as he continued to help Ayla, and soon they were both standing nude.

  Ayla walked over to a small table and picked up a little bowl sitting there. She took the bowl to the fire in the center of the room and threw a handful of its contents onto the flames. Sweet smelling smoke drifted into the air around them. Ayla smiled at him over her shoulder as she turned towards the sleeping pallet.

  Rannulf watched her a moment, mesmerized by her beauty, before following her to the bed. She pushed him gently down onto the furs and then crawled over his body, graceful as a cat. Her h
air slid over his legs as she climbed over him and he shivered in delight. Her eyes held him enthralled, the mysteries in their dark depths calling to him as she lowered her mouth to his manhood. He gasped in delight as his enchantress worked her magic over him.

  He pushed Ayla over finally, covering her with his body and nudging her legs apart. He couldn’t wait much longer, she'd brought him too close to satisfaction, so he reached between her legs to tease her silken lips apart and prepare her for his entrance. She moaned and shook in anticipation and he thanked the gods for such a passionate wife.

  Rannulf slid into her easily, joining their bodies as their souls were already. He held her face between his hands as he kissed her and filled her completely. Her arms slid around his back, pulling him closer. She kneaded the muscles in his shoulders, loving the feel of them in her hands.

  Then she was traveling that familiar road to ecstasy, with its peaks and valleys. She hit a peak and her legs began to shake uncontrollably. Ayla dug her nails into Rannulf’s arms and held on as he took her to Heaven. Her screams were lost in the sound of the drums.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Rannulf adjusted to his new life easily, the tribe accepted him as one of their own and his wife made every little thing a joy. Domestic chores became a game when Ayla was involved. Happiness filled every hour from sunrise to sunset and beyond. Rannulf had never felt so fulfilled and content in all his life. His memories of war were disappearing, replaced by golden skin and midnight hair. Ayla was everything.

  The days passed by quickly in their happiness and Rannulf all but forgot his old friends. So it was with great surprise that he saw a troop of Normans riding into camp one morning.

  The Seljuks were not taken by surprise, though. The sentinels had seen the oncoming troops and had alerted the tribe. The men stood at battle stance, with their swords ready. When Rannulf saw which Norman in particular it was that approached, he shouted for the men to lower their weapons. He pulled off his turban and awaited his old friend’s arrival. As he waited, Ayla appeared at his side with Akara in her arms.

  “Bohemund,” called Rannulf. “I'm relieved it's you. I thought for a moment that we were under attack.”

  Bohemund reined in his stallion abruptly and stared down at Rannulf with hard eyes. Rannulf frowned, wondering at the man’s appearance. Bohemund dismounted without answering Rannulf and walked over to stand before Ayla. He looked at the beautiful baby in her arms and sneered.

  “So, the witch has trapped you with more than her spells,” Bohemund observed.

  “The witch is my wife,” Rannulf ground out, pushing Ayla behind him. “What are you doing here Bohemund?”

  “She has bewitched me too,” Bohemund’s eyes never left Ayla’s face. “I’ve come for the woman. She has invaded my mind, she controls me. I must have her and be done with it.”

  He reached for Ayla and Rannulf pushed him to the ground. Immediately he was surrounded by Bohemund’s men and the tribesmen he'd told to lower their weapons were useless against the unexpected assault.

  Bohemund got to his feet and pulled Ayla over to him. Rannulf started to rush forward but Ayla screamed as the swords pointed at his throat drew blood, and he stopped to stare murderously at Bohemund. Akara started to wail and Ayla called to Yelda.

  “Take him quickly,” Ayla said in Turkish to Yelda. “Hide him. Protect my son.”

  Yelda nodded and ran off with the baby. Bohemund hardly spared the child a glance, all he cared about was Ayla. He grabbed her roughly and threw her onto his horse, then quickly followed her into the saddle.

  “Ayla,” Rannulf cried sharply.

  She held his gaze with her dark eyes and although they welled with tears, she smiled at him gently.

  “Take care of our son,” she called. “I'll return to you, whether it's in this life or the next.”

  “You will not have to return to me,” Rannulf growled, “I'll be coming for you. Just hold on, Ayla, he won't get far.”

  “Come after us,” Bohemund focused on Rannulf, “and I'll kill her before you get close enough to fight.”

  “Then you'll be kiling yourself,” Rannulf vowed, “because if she dies, Bohemund, you will die and you will die slowly.”

  “We'll see,” Bohemund grimaced, “but either way, the witch will be dead.” He turned his horse around and rode off quickly.

  As Rannulf was released, he struggled and started to go after Bohemund but Faruk sent several of the Seljuk men to restrain him. He wanted his daughter back but he knew it would take a little more finesse than Rannulf was showing. Sometimes it was best to wait and approach things from a new angle... preferably the angle heading towards Bohemund's back.

  The Normans remounted and rode away from the Seljuk village as fast as they could. Not a single one of them was happy to be on this mission. It was bad enough that Rannulf and his men had disappeared trying to find the witch but to have to send a second army out after the woman was madness. They all knew their leader had lost some of his sanity but there wasn’t anything any of them could do about it. He was still a great warrior and he was still their leader.

  Ayla rode silently before Bohemund, lost in contemplation. Her future loomed before her, dark and terrifying. Bohemund would use her cruelly and then most likely kill her. Ayla knew he was that type of man, had known since she'd first laid eyes on him. To be at his mercy was a nightmare for any woman but for a woman who he'd become obsessed with? This would be hell.

  But Ayla wasn't just any woman. The only thing that had kept her with Yaghi-Siyan was the threat to her father's life. Now she had much more motivation to escape and she would, she was just hoping she'd get the opportunity before Bohemund tried to kill her. She'd have to use all of her wiles to play him just right, no matter how awful it may be to do so. Her safe return to her family depended on it.

  Ayla kept seeing Rannulf’s face as he watched Bohemund carry her away. She hoped he wouldn’t jeopardize himself to come after her. Their son needed him now and the thought of Akara growing up with no parents was more terrifying than thoughts of her death. She hoped he knew she meant to escape, that he understood what she meant when she said she'd return to him, but she didn't think that would stop Rannulf from coming after her. Her husband was not the type of man to sit and wait for a woman to save herself. Surely Faruk would talk some sense into him.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  As soon as the Seljuk men released Rannulf, he started for his own horse. Faruk put out a hand and stopped his son-in-law.

  “Give them a little distance,” he said with deadly calm. “We don’t want them to know that we follow them.”

  “We?” Rannulf raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s my daughter and I'm still a formidable fighter,” Faruk looked at Rannulf steadily.

  “I’ll wager you are,” Rannulf agreed.

  “I go as well,” Durukan said softly.

  Rannulf looked around him and all of the tribesmen were gathering their weapons and supplies. He wouldn't have to face Bohemund alone. He had a new army.

  “Yelda,” he called. “Bring me my son.”

  Yelda brought Akara forward and Rannulf hugged the boy close before holding him out to look at carefully.

  “If you truly are magic,” he whispered, “now’s the time to use it. Your mother needs you.”

  Akara cocked his head to the side as if he was considering his father’s request, then began to giggle. Rannulf smiled sadly, he wasn’t sure what he'd been hoping for but he felt silly for even considering it.

  Then Akara landed both of his flailing arms on Rannulf’s face with a resounding smack. Rannulf blinked in surprise but before he could recover, his son had raised both arms heavenward as he continued to giggle in baby hysterics.

  Above their heads the sky grew dark and began to rumble. Lightning was soon flashing and the tribe was murmuring in awe. Then Akara flung his arms down once more and the huge mass of blackness began to move. The dark cloud rumbled slowly, then began to pick u
p speed as it rolled off in the direction of Bohemund.

  Rannulf’s face drained of all color. He had no doubt of his son’s power now. He looked down at his child in amazement. He was just a babe, how was it possible? Then he looked back over his shoulder to watch the thundercloud’s pursuit of Bohemund. The storm would force Bohemund to find shelter and Rannulf would be able to take him unawares. His son had in fact, just saved Ayla.

  “Thank you,” he kissed Akara and handed him back to Yelda.

  “I’ve waited long enough,” Rannulf said to Faruk, “it’s time to get my wife back.”

  Chapter Seventy

  The rain came so suddenly that even Ayla was shocked. She looked around her in confusion at a world gone dramatically dark. Above her lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in anger. Ayla had never seen a storm so violent.

  Bohemund reined in sharply and looked around, desperate for shelter. The lightning flashes lit his face, making him appear demonic, in fact, the whole landscape seemed a type of wet hell. They were in an open plain, the closest thing to shelter was a copse of fragile looking trees. Bohemund turned his horse toward them and his men followed.

  Once they were within the trees, Bohemund and his men dismounted. He pulled Ayla down and shoved her to the ground at the base of a tree, not even bothering to restrain her. He knew she wouldn't get far in the storm, even if she did try to run, so he immediately went to work on unpacking his soldier’s tent and trying to set it up in the deluge.

  He finally got up enough of the tent to provide some relief from the rain and he shoved Ayla inside before quickly following. The sound of scared horses and the shouts of angry wet men were a background to Ayla's racing thoughts. The storm was unlike any she'd seen on the plains, it was much to strong to come on so suddenly, changing day to night. How had it manifested? Had Faruk done this? Could he have this kind of power? Surely he would have taught her if he had.