A Storm of Passion by Terri Brisbin

he did not want to do. The times he’d thought about her while someone else tended his needs left him feeling unsatisfied and never brought the level of satiation he needed to ease the urges within.
    Connor leaned against the door and spoke to her, all the while slipping his hand inside his trews to gain some measure of relief.
    “’Tis you I want, Moira,” he whispered to her. “I searched for you after you left my bed, and none has been able to do what you did for me.”
    She stared at him as he continued stroking himself, seeking not pleasure as much as relief from the constant urgings in his blood. Closing his eyes then, he sought an end to the excruciating need that plagued him relentlessly, even while knowing that it would return to plague him again and again until his visions struck and drained him of everything good, leaving only pain behind. He exploded into his own hand, the act not bringing him anything but some moments of respite.
    He cleaned himself quickly, knowing he must get out of there without seeing the disgust that would surely color her expression now after she saw how low he sank into depravity. Luckily, the bell for the noon meal rang, and he could answer its call and escape. Tying his trews and belt, he asked only one question of her.
    “Was Gillis involved in this?”
    She paused for a moment only. “Nay, he is innocent of my actions.” Her voice shook then. “Can you help him?”
    He did turn then to see if feelings for this other man were written on her face, but he found only worry there. “You are his woman?” he asked.
    “Nay, Seer, I am no man’s.” She must have understood he was trying to find out what lay between them for she shook her head and spoke again. “If you could help him, I would…I would do what you need.”
    The offer was an empty one, Connor knew, for Diarmid most likely had found him already. “You bargain so easily for his life; will you offer me the same bargain if I spare yours?”
    She did hesitate then, and he took her answer as no. Disappointment filled him, for he knew it would be no easy thing to get her in his bed without her consent, and now, having heard too much and seen too much, she would never give it.
    Connor turned and walked out. He would learn what he could about the fate of Gillis, but Diarmid’s mercy would never extend to a man who aided a murderess in gaining a place in the keep. Gillis’s only hope was if he were well away from Mull by now.
     
    He turned in the corner stairway on his way to the noon meal and waited for the man to catch up. As this man was one of few he would allow to see his face and know his plans, he could trust no other with the task at hand.
    “Young Gillis has become a liability to us,” he said quietly. “Do you still have him hidden away?”
    “Aye, my lord,” the man replied. “As you ordered.”
    He’d known Gillis’s identity and link to the woman Ceanna would be revealed to Diarmid. Diarmid had a network of spies and informants among his people and throughout Mull and the isles that was unsurpassed by any other lord, be they earl or king. Men who strove for higher than their place could always be counted on for such excellence in knowledge gathering and strategy. And his brother strove for much higher than his birth should allow him to climb.
    Now, it was too much of a risk to allow Gillis to remain with his knowledge of their plot. Diarmid’s torturers would get information from him, and he could not allow it to be their plans that were revealed.
    “I think Gillis must leave the keep now,” he said, ordering the man’s death as easily as he asked for a cup of ale with his meal. “Diarmid’s men cannot be allowed to capture him alive. Do you understand, Ivar?”
    “Aye, my lord. And the woman?” he asked.
    Their plan to have the crowds do their work for them had failed, for Connor’s men had expected such trouble and were prepared for it. They’d managed to get her to the keep with only some