Into the Wind by Shira Anthony Page B

enveloped them. Ian imagined Taren’s fingers ghosting over his skin, caressing him, reassuring him. “The wind,” Ian said, overcome by his emotions, unafraid to speak them here, in the safety of his dream. “It reminds me of you. Every time I feel it on my skin, it’s as though you’re here. Touching me. Binding me to you.”
    Taren smiled. Another gust—warmer this time—wrapped itself around Ian. Like gentle vibrations, a thousand tiny kisses, the wind shimmered over Ian’s body. A lover’s touch. Welcoming, familiar.
    “Come back to me,” Ian said again. “Do what you must, but don’t you dare leave me!”
    Ian woke to the feel of the breeze from the open windows. Taren. Be safe. And know that you hold my heart in your own.

Twelve

     
    “D ON ’ TMOVE ,” a deep voice commanded. “Hands over your head.”
    Taren felt the sharp point of a weapon against the skin of his back. He’d found a waterfall not far from where he and Brynn had slept and had been bathing. He hadn’t heard the newcomer approach over the sound of the water. Taren wasn’t concerned. He figured Odhrán’s men would find them—he’d counted on it, especially after Brynn’s admission that he didn’t know the way to Odhrán. And although he knew Ian would think it imprudent of him to seek the pirate out without arming himself, Taren believed Odhrán would be more inclined to listen if he did not feel threatened.
    Taren lifted his hands and asked, “Who are you?”
    Before the man could answer, two men appeared from behind a rocky outcropping, one of them dragging Brynn by the scruff of his neck.
    “Samuel! Tell this”—Brynn tried to kick his captor in the shin, but his leg was too short to do much harm—“ beast who I am!”
    Samuel just laughed, his sword still touching Taren’s back. “Little runt. Odhrán told you he’d find you if he needed you. You can explain to him yourself why you brought a stranger to his door.” Samuel nodded to the third man, who pulled out a length of rope and proceeded to bind Taren’s hands, then Brynn’s.
    “Wait! I told you! I was trying to help. Odhrán will be angry with you if you don’t—”
    Brynn kicked and squirmed until Samuel said, “Gag him.” The hint of a smile played on his lips.
    “May I put my trousers on?” Taren calmly asked. Not that he was particularly embarrassed to be presented naked to Odhrán, but he’d be more comfortable if the white skin of his ass didn’t burn in the hot sun.
    “Help him, Ralph,” Samuel told the man who was not occupied with the squirming Brynn.
    A few minutes later, Odhrán’s men led a blindfolded and gagged Taren and Brynn away from the waterfall. From the feel of the sun on Taren’s face and the retreating sound of the surf, he guessed they were headed toward the center of the small island, where he’d spotted several large rocky outcroppings. He suspected the entrance to the caves where Odhrán and his men hid might be there.
    The men walked them for nearly an hour, around and around until Taren was no longer sure where they were. Finally, Taren heard a scraping sound and the rustling of leaves, and he guessed that the men were uncovering the entrance to a cave. From there, they descended what felt to Taren’s feet like carved stairs. The air grew cool around them and the stone was at times slippery from water. Though Taren’s feet were cut and swollen from the climb up the cliff with Brynn the day before, Taren was thankful he was barefoot. The wet rock was much like the slippery wooden decks of the ships on which he’d served, and he was far more agile without the smooth leather soles of his boots.
    The stairs ended, though the rough-hewn feel of the stone under his feet was the same. A passage, Taren guessed, also carved out of the rock. How long would it have taken to carve the stairs and the tunnel? Years, perhaps longer. After a few more minutes, they stopped. Taren immediately noticed the change in temperature