Children of the Sea 03 - Sea Lord

Any one of them could have seized a second’s opportunity, a moment of human weakness, to slide into Lucy’s mind and possess her, to settle into that long, lean body, to rape her of her will.
    Conn reached out with his senses, all his senses, but he could find no taint of demon in her, no fingerprint of Hell. Whatever had been attempted, she was not possessed.
    His fear abated. His fury did not.
    Gau bent his borrowed features into an expression of pained surprise. “You would not jeopardize our détente for . . . a dog?”
    “My dog,” Conn said.
    My woman.
    He did not look again at Lucy. He would not draw the demon’s attention her way. But he was achingly aware of her shrinking into the shadow of the arch, her fingers pressed to her mouth.
    “You do not have cause to hold me,” Gau objected.
    “Pray you are right, demon,” Conn said grimly. “Or even Hell will not protect you from me.”
    “I acted in self-defense,” Gau protested.
    “Bollocks,” Griff said. “The animal cannot bite a ghost.”
    Madadh.
    Now that his greater fear was soothed, Conn could spare thought for the dog. He reached the hound in three long strides, barely noticing the wardens who squeezed out of his way. The hound was young, strong, only three years old. Only three . . .
    Conn dropped to his knees.
    Gau sneered. “Your concern is touching. I did not expect such feeling from the great lord of the sea.”
    Conn ignored him, his hands doing a rapid check of the dog’s heart, limbs, lungs. Madadh cocked an anxious yellow eye upward and whined. Alive.
    Conn’s lungs relaxed enough for him to draw breath.
    “You see? The animal is merely stunned,” Gau said. “I would not do anything foolish to upset the balance of power.”
    Did the demon’s gaze slide to Lucy?
    “Bugger the balance of power,” Conn said through his teeth. “Touch what is mine again, Hell spawn, and I will snuff you.”
    Gau hissed.
    Conn found Ronat among the wardens who had followed him from the hall. “Water and blankets for the hound.”
    “Yes, my prince.”
    Conn smoothed a hand over the dog’s head and rose to his feet. The hound’s tail thumped weakly on the stones.
    “What shall we do with Lord Gau?” Morgan asked.
    Conn wanted to send the demon lord back to Hell. But he would not release Gau until he had confirmed Lucy was intact.
    She still stood in the shadow of the bailey wall, outside the wardens’ protective circle. Her face was ravaged. Ashen. The delicate skin beneath her eyes appeared bruised.
    Conn’s face set. His gut churned. He needed to get her to himself. Somewhere he could hold her, touch Page 70

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    her, assure himself of her safety. Anger still pounded in his temples like a headache, but controlled.
    Or nearly controlled.
    He stalked across the courtyard.
    She had lowered her hands, holding her elbows tightly across her midsection as if she had taken a mortal wound. Conn gritted his teeth. She could hold on to him. Wouldn’t that be the normal human female response to an attack? She should throw herself in his arms. He would not mind.
    But first he must get her away from Gau. From all of them.
    He moved on her, close enough to see the sweep of her thick, fair lashes and the part in her springy hair, near enough to smell her skin and her fear. He searched her gaze. Her eyes were wide with shock, but it was her spirit that looked out of them.
    She was safe. His heart, which had been clenched as tightly as a fist, relaxed enough to beat. She was herself.
    Ronat spoke from behind him. “My prince? Lord Gau?”
    “He can go to Hell,” Conn said without turning. “Escort him to the caves.”
    Lucy’s tongue came out to moisten her lips. His entire body clenched in response.
    “Upstairs with me,” he commanded softly. “Now.”
    She craned her neck to look over his shoulder, apparently oblivious to her danger and his need. “The dog . . . Is Madadh all right?”
    He wanted to shake her. Did she fail to realize how narrow an escape she had just had?
    “The dog is in shock,” he said curtly. The vision of Madadh stretched on the cobbles, of Lucy with her hand to her mouth, struck him again with bruising force. “But it will live. Perhaps this will even teach it to listen.”
    A tinge of color returned to her pale face. “It wasn’t Madadh’s fault.”
    “He should have obeyed.”
    Her eyes were wide and desolate. “Are you mad at