Son of No One Read online

  That was a strange way to phrase it. Did he mean what it sounded like? "Kidnapped you?"

  He snorted in bitter resentment. "He was king, lass. It was go willingly or die voluntarily."

  She winced at the awful choice he'd been given. It had to have been hard to go from a monk's life to war with so little warning. Which begged another question, especially if he'd been given to the monastery as an infant.... "Did you even know how to fight?"

  "Nay, but battle learned me quick."

  She could just imagine. It was a wonder he hadn't been slaughtered the first day, and it explained a lot about the sword skills she'd witnessed on her arrival. "How old were you?"

  "Ten-and-four."

  Her jaw dropped as she imagined a skinny little boy being dragged away from his home by armored knights to fight in a medieval battle. He must have been terrified. "You went to war at fourteen?" she asked incredulously.

  "Aye." It was a simple statement of emotionless fact. But she knew better than that. There was no way a child could be put through those horrors and not be scarred inside from it all. It was unfathomable.

  And what they'd done to him was unconscionable.

  As she cleaned his wound and really saw the deep scars those battles had left him with, her heart broke for him.

  She fingered the diamond-shaped ones that had started her down this brutal path. "So what you're saying is that you were tortured because one of the monks was stealing from the monastery in order to gamble, and blamed you for the theft?"

  He sighed wearily. "We're all brought up under a tub from time to time."

  "Meaning?"

  "Sooner or later, all of us take the blame of another's ill actions."

  Truer words ...

  But it didn't take away the internal agony such things left behind. That sense of brutal betrayal. No one liked to be blamed for things they did, and to take the blame for something you didn't do was all the worse. Not to mention, Cadegan would have been younger than fourteen when they did that to him. How could a grown man allow a mere boy to suffer so for his crimes? She'd never understand such cruelty.

  "I'm sorry, Cadegan."

  He shrugged. "No worries. Could be worse. Could've lost me hand entirely. Damn near. Luckily, it just left me coggy-handed."

  She frowned again at a term she'd never heard before. "Coggy-handed?"

  "I primarily use me left hand, nowadays." He glanced past her shoulder to see his rosary on the bed where she'd left it. Without a word, he returned it to the bedpost.

  "Was that yours at the monastery?"

  Nodding, he rolled his sleeve back down and laced it closed. "I shall leave you to sleep."

  As he started for the ladder, she caught his arm. "I really don't like to be alone. Can you stay in the loft with me?"

  Cadegan glanced to the tiny bed before another rush of red stained his cheeks.

  She wasn't immune to the thought herself, but her racing blood didn't go to her face. Rather, it went to a part of her body that made a demand she wasn't sure would be the smartest thing to do. Against reason, it begged for her to strip his clothes off and explore every vast inch of his hard body.

  "Are you sure you want me up here with you, lass?"

  "Please."

  Averting his gaze from the bed and her, he moved to sit on the floor, by his shield. With his legs stretched out before him, he folded his arms over his chest, lowered his head, and closed his eyes as if he intended to sleep that way.

  It was such a sweet, innocent, and unassuming action that it made her smile.

  "Cade," she said in a chiding tone. "When I said stay in the loft, I meant share the bed with me."

  His eyebrows shot north as he opened his eyes and locked gazes with her. "Beg pardon?"

  "We're both adults, right? We can share the bed and nothing else. You stay on your corner of the cot. I stay on mine."

  He actually pouted as he considered her proposal. After a few seconds, he nodded. "Very well, lass. If it pleases you."

  She toed her shoes off before she returned to the bed and rolled to her side to make room for him.

  Cadegan hesitated at the sight of her in his bed. He'd never really shared a bed with anyone before. At least not for anything more than a few carnal hours.

  And it had never been his bed, but rather the woman's.

  A smile toyed at the edges of his lips as he watched her trying to get comfortable without a pillow. Since the austere abbot had considered any kind of comfort sinful, Cadegan had grown up without one. After he'd been conscripted to war, he'd had even fewer bodily comforts as they battled against the English.

  He'd never given thought to it before this. Now ... he manifested a pillow for her.

  When he handed it to her, her entire face lit up. "Thank you!"

  He gave a curt nod and watched as she promptly tucked it between her head and arm. She looked adorable like that. Preciously sweet, and much more tempting than she should be.

  Trying not to focus on that untoward line of thought, he slid into bed beside her and gave her his back. He bent his arm under his head and closed his eyes to sleep, and not think about the warmth pressing up against his spine, or the gentle vanilla-almond scent that made his mouth water and his groin heavy.

  He ground his teeth in an effort to squash his useless fantasies.

  "Cade?" she whispered after a few minutes. "Are you still wearing your shoes?"

  "Aye."

  "Aren't you uncomfortable?"

  "I don't understand your question."

  Jo rolled over, colliding with him until she'd wiggled enough that she was now facing his rigid back. From the waist down, he still wore his chain mail. Even his spurs. "You always sleep in your armor?"

  "Aye."

  "Seriously?"

  He didn't move or react to her shock even a bit. "Aye."

  "Always?" she repeated.

  "Aye," he said yet again in that ever-patient tone.

  She lifted herself up to look down at him. He had his eyes closed, and but for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, she'd think him asleep already. "Does it not chafe?"

  "I suppose.... Does it matter?"

  Well, yeah.

  It probably shouldn't, and yet she didn't like the thought of him in perpetual pain. "Do you ever take it off?"

  "Aye, to bathe."

  "But not to sleep?"

  "Nay, lass." He sighed before he explained more fully. "Habit of the army. The Mercian's dodges were to come at us in the midst of the prime hour of the Sidhe court."

  She scowled at his excuse. What the heck did he just say, anyway? "English, dude. Speak. English!"

  He laughed at her feigned angry outburst. "We were oft attacked in the midst of night, by our enemies. Therefore, we slept armed so as not to be caught bare-arsed in a fight."

  Oh ...

  The harshness of his life washed over her. And before she even realized what she was doing, she reached out to brush her hand through his short, prickly hair. It was barely half an inch long. Her cousin Molly had longer leg hair than what was left on his head. But then, he had no one to grow or style it for.

  From the looks of it, he'd sawed it off with one of his swords so that he wouldn't have to bother with it.

  She had a bad feeling from his calm acceptance of this life that he'd never known anything else. And that made her wonder one thing. "Has anyone ever loved you?"

  Cadegan swallowed hard as her question awoke bitter memories. Memories that led him back to one single truth. "Nay, lass. I've no understanding of that word."

  Closing his eyes again, he savored the sensation of her gentle fingers brushing against his scalp. No one had ever touched him like this.

  Like he mattered to them.

  Much of it he'd written off as his being reserved. He was a bit much for most. Too tall. Too intense. Too scary. Too demonic.

  Too scarred.

  In his monastic youth, he'd known nothing about women and the pleasures they could provide a man. He'd only seen them at a great distance from his garden duties, whenever they might venture to the alm's door to beg for charity. It was as far as they were allowed into the monastery. And from that distance, they'd been indistinguishable from men.

  Once his mother had birthed Cadegan in a monastery cell and abandoned him there, Father Bryce had strictly refused to allow any woman inside the gate. For any reason. And Cadegan had been forbidden to venture near any gate or door that led outside the stone monastery walls.

  Cadegan hadn't even known what a female voice sounded like. Not until he'd been conscripted. Only then had he heard their shrill cries of pleasure, and seen how the soldiers frolicked with the tarts that followed after their troops, trading themselves for coin and scraps.

  Afraid of embarrassing himself and being mocked for it, he'd withheld himself until he was nearly a score in age. He would have most likely gone longer had one of the trollops not plied him with drink one night after a brutal battle that had made him crave any distraction from the memories of it.

  In the end, she'd taken his virginity and robbed his coin, and left him with a back burning from her scratches, a merciless headache, and four days of bitter hunger because he'd lacked the silver to purchase anything to eat. That had learned him as well as his first foray into battle to keep his wits about him at all times whenever a woman was nigh. They were as dangerous as the trained Mercian and Saxon knights out to spill good Cymry blood ... and far more treacherous.

  But as Jo's breath fell against his skin whilst she played in his hair, he felt himself being witched by her tender spell. His sense told him to remain at the ready where she was concerned.

  It wasn't that easy. Not when his cock was so hard and aching. When his heart was weakening him with a longing for things he'd never known.

  Right then, he'd gladly offer up his life for the lass if she'd just dance her fingers over a lower part of his body.

  Jo frowned as she dropped her gaze to his neck and saw another awful scar peeking out from beneath his linen collar. She traced the raised, puckered flesh with her fingertip. "How did you get this?"

  "No memories of it, in particular."

  How could he not know? It had to have been a bad ...

  Her breath caught as she slipped the collar down to see a bit more of his back.

  No....

  Biting her lip, she pulled the hem of his shirt up to expose his back that was completely disfigured by scars. "Dear Lord, Cade. What did they do to you?"

  He pulled his shirt down and returned to his rigid pose. "'Tis naught."

  No wonder he hadn't reacted to the bite on his arm. Compared to that mess on his back, it was nothing, indeed.

  He sighed again. "You should sleep whilst you're able. The cock's crow won't be long now. Then, I'll see you off to yours."

  As gently as she could, Jo rolled him to his back so that she could see his face. His expression blank and unassuming, he stared up at her. But his eyes held so much agony and want that it made her heart break for him.

  A thousand years of solitude.

  "Did the graylings scar your back, too?"

  He shook his head. "What does it matter?"

  She glanced down to where his shirt parted over his chest, revealing even more damage. No wonder he kept himself wrapped up like a cloistered monk. He even had a deep scar over his heart as if someone had dealt him a killing blow. "What are you, Cadegan? Really? Why was this done to you?"

  Swallowing hard, he looked away.

  At first, she thought he'd dodge the question.

  He didn't. Drawing the cloth together to keep her from seeing his scars, he licked his lips before he spoke in a low tone. "Me father is a demon prince who seduced me mother so that he could steal from her. Once she learned the truth of him, she had no use for me." He rubbed at the scar over his heart. "When I refused to steal from me mother for me father, he sicced his legions upon me. They hunt me, even here." He swallowed hard as a single tear slid from the corner of his eye. "Even though I be demonspawn, I harbor no harm for you, lass." He started to rise.

  Jo held him in place. "What are you doing?"

  "Leaving before you toss me from the bed." His emotionless tone told her that it was what women had always done to him.

  She cupped his cheek in her hand and forced him to meet her gaze. "I'm still not sure this isn't a dream or hallucination. And I've never done anything rash in my life. Even after I caught my husband in bed with another woman, it took me three days to react to it."

  He arched a brow at that. "Three days?"

  She nodded. "I live in a splendid place I like to call denial. And I don't like change."

  "So what did you do?" he asked.

  "First, I had my cousin Karma put a pox curse on his junk, then I divorced him."

  "His junk?"

  She dropped her gaze down to Cadegan's groin.

  Laughing, he reached up to touch a lock of her hair. "He must have been a great fool to choose another over you."

  "Says the man who has yet to meet my frightening family. Then again, being demonspawn, you'd fit right in with them. Karma would probably try to add you to her collection. Selena would want to interview you, and my cousin Molly would try to have you hunt down something she misplaced."

  He frowned at her teasing tone. "I don't scare you?"

  "Nah. The only thing that really scares me is the sound of an unknown person coughing under my bed."

  "Pardon?"

  She wrinkled her nose at him. "My mom and her sister would take me, my sister, and brother and cousins to my aunt's lake house every summer. My cousins are a little rowdy and either Karma or Essie would hide under the bed and mess with you whenever you slept. Coughing under the bed was one of their kinder, gentler pranks. After about age three minutes, I got used to it. They kicked the pansy right out of me. Toughened me, like hand-beaten leather."

  Amazed, Cadegan sank his hand in her hair. "You're unlike any woman I've ever met."

  "Yeah, that's me. 'You'll never forget Josette.' And it was never said as a compliment."

  He cocked his head curiously. "Josette?"

  "My full name. Jo's the nickname I use because Josette, or worse, Josie the Pussycat, was mocked so abysmally in my youth."

  He wrapped a lock of her hair around his forefinger so that he could rub it with his thumb. "It's a beautiful name. As is the woman who bears it."

  Those words melted her. Don't you dare....

  Don't even think it....

  But it was too late. She wanted him with a ferocious hunger that wouldn't be denied.

  What if it's not a dream and he's really a demon?

  Do you hear yourself? You're an idiot. He can't be a demon. You don't believe in those things. You're in a coma. Accept it and do this hot piece of cheese before he turns into something foul.

  Cadegan held his breath as he felt the change in her. As her eyes darkened with the same needful longing that possessed him. She dipped her head toward his.

  Against all common sense, he took that kiss and returned it with everything he had. Unlike the last one, this was fierce and demanding. A kiss born of raw lust, and it ignited a ferocious hunger inside him.

  She pulled back, nipping at his lips as she lifted his tunic and ran her hands over his chest. He groaned out loud at the sensation of being touched by another. And when she bent to lave his nipple, he cried out and trembled in pleasure.

  Laughing, she tried to untie the laces on his chausses.

  Until she pulled back with a curse. "What in the name of chocolate? Are you hermetically sealed in this thing? Dude, this is so cruel."

  His laughter joined hers as he reached down to undo them, then realized she'd knotted and snarled the laces to the point they were impossibly tangled. Growling, he yanked at them. "It's like a bloody damn chastity belt."

  "Give me a knife and I'll cut them off."

  He froze to gape at her. "You're mad, woman, if you think I'm letting you near me tenders with a knife. Have you lost ever bit of your better noggin?"

  "I heard a definite yes, Jo. You can indeed cut me out of these in that garbled mess you mistakenly think is English."

  She actually reached for one.

  Aghast, and somewhat afraid, he quickly used his powers to strip off every stitch from his body. "Don't you dare, lass!"

  She passed a beguiling grin of devilry at him. "Hah! I knew you could do that. All you needed was a little motivation."

  Ach, she was precious to him. Smiling at her teasing ways, he kissed her gently as undefined and unknown emotions swirled inside him. He'd never laughed and been teased in bed like this.

  Out of bed, either, for that matter.

  It was a wonderful feeling.

  Jo couldn't breathe as she savored the taste of him while his tongue danced with hers. The image of his naked body was branded in her mind. Even covered with scars, he was exquisite as he slowly unbuttoned her shirt.

  Until he got to her bra and pulled back with a Welsh curse. "What the devil? How does this monstrosity work?"

  She rubbed her nose against his. "No fun, is it? Trying to unwrap a present that's been super-glued together."

  He narrowed his gaze playfully before her clothes vanished as quickly as his had.

  Gasping, she pulled the sheet up to cover herself. "Yeah, okay. You got some wicked powers there, buddy. Careful with those."

  His eyes dark, he didn't answer as he slowly lowered her hand so that he could reach to cup her breast. The warmth of his callused fingers sent chills over her. He returned to her lips before he laid her back on the bed and parted her thighs with his knees.

  Biting her lip, she reached for the medallion he wore, cradling it in her hand so that she could see it. A little larger than a quarter, it held the image of a three-headed dragon clasping a shield in its claws. Something was written in runes across the shield. "What does this say?"

  He glanced down and whispered against her skin as he nuzzled her neck, "A ddioddefws a orfu."

  "Easy for you to say, Welshman. What does it actually mean?"

  "He who suffers, triumphs."

  She cupped his face in her hands as tears choked her. How apropos for him. No wonder he wore it. Wanting to soothe the pain she saw in his eyes, she wrapped her legs around his waist and cradled his entire body with hers.

  Cadegan sucked his breath in sharply at the sensation of her naked skin on his. He'd forgotten just how soft a female's flesh could be, and hers was the softest he'd ever known. Scented with almonds and vanilla, she made his head spin, especially as she breathed in his ear and nibbled his lobe. It was all he could do not to come from the pleasure of it alone.

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