She was trapped, unable to move.
Sarah came awake with a jerk. After her last forty-eight hours, she fully expected the worst when she opened her eyes.
What she found was about as far from the worst as she could possibly imagine.
Ian’s face was only inches from hers, his lips parted slightly in sleep. His darkly shadowed cheeks, so freshly shaved last night, seemed to call out for her touch. When she tried to lift her hand to give in to that touch, she smiled, recognizing what had caused her to dream of being trapped.
One large muscled arm and an equally muscled leg draped across the bedding covering her body. She hadn’t just dreamed of being trapped—she was! But it was by the most pleasant of bindings.
Unable to do anything else, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his body wrapped around hers. She inhaled deeply, allowing his clean masculine aroma to fill her senses. After years of trying to avoid touching others, for the first time she could remember her mind cried out at her current inability to touch, at this unaccustomed lack of sensory input. She wanted to free her hands from the blankets that bound her, to run them over his skin, to know what he felt. To feel what he felt.
She opened her eyes and found him watching her, a little smile playing around his attractive mouth.
“Good morning.” She waited for him to respond, but he said nothing.
His smile grew, lighting his eyes until, at last, he lowered his lips to hers, claiming them.
“Yer a fair bonny sight for a man to wake up to.”
Her heart pounded and she tried to calm herself enough to answer.
“You aren’t so bad yourself.” It was intended to be light and playful, but it sounded much too breathless for that. Blame it on her heart, beating much too fast. Surely he could feel it pounding, even through the pile of blankets pinning her beneath him.
He silently watched her eyes for a long moment, then kissed the tip of her nose and rolled off of her and out of bed.
“Climb out of there and get yerself going. By the time you make it out of the shower, I’ll have a lovely pot of coffee waiting downstairs.” With that, he walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Good Lord. First he melts her insides and turns her legs to jelly, then he expects her to get up and shower.
Oh well. At least coffee would be waiting for her downstairs.
Coffee and Ian.
How could it get any better than that?
* * *
Ian stared at the stream of dark liquid flowing into the glass carafe, but his mind wasn’t focused on the little machine or even on the fragrant brew it created for him. His thoughts had traveled upstairs, hovering outside the steamy little room from which the sounds of running water issued.
When had he become so indecisive, so reluctant to lay claim to what he felt was his?
Rolling off Sarah, leaving her bed this morning without answering the need he saw shining in her eyes, had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He had wanted her desperately.
He wanted her still.
Was there any way to reconcile the two halves of his life? He was sworn to be a Guardian, but the call to be with Sarah was like nothing he had ever known. The desire to protect her, to possess her was overpowering. In her arms, he forgot everything, wanted for nothing, knew peace at last.
It was as if she were his Soulmate.
The one intended for him had been lost during one of the final battles on the Mortal Plain over six hundred years ago. An innocent young girl he’d barely known, her soul ripped away by an unfated death at the hands of a Nuadian renegade seeking to prolong his own miserable life.
Ian closed his eyes and hung his head, willing his mind not to replay the horrors. Those souls forced from their hosts before their time were shattered and hurled into chaos. Many never made it back to the Fountain of Souls to be reborn. It had happened so often during those times. So many soul couplings broken for all eternity.
In the centuries since, he had never once backed away from a battle or shirked his duty. Never once doubted his destiny. Never once doubted he would spend his eternity alone as a Guardian, protecting other people’s Soulmates.
Until Sarah entered his life.
And now…he doubted. Doubted his destiny, his path, himself.
He poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, watching the ripples that formed in the liquid as the last drop hit.
It could be he struggled with this demon doubt for no reason. She might yet refuse him. She could turn her back on him, walk away, and all this internal battle would be for nothing.
He glanced up as the sound of running water stopped. He set his cup on the counter and headed for the stairs.
There was one way to know for sure. One way to end the doubt.
* * *
Sarah took the oversized white towel from the heated stand and wrapped it around her body, tucking the corner into the top above her breasts. The thick terry cloth was soft and warm and felt wholly self-indulgent. She was going to look for one of those racks when she got home.
She tugged at the smaller towel she had placed about her wet hair before she climbed from the shower and, bending over from the waist, used it to scrub at the moisture in her hair.
When the bathroom door opened, she jerked upright, stumbled backward and would have fallen into the tub if not for Ian’s quick grab.
“What are you doing in—”
He cut her question short by pulling her to his chest and covering her mouth with his own. After a moment, she didn’t care that she hadn’t finished her question; she was no longer interested in whatever his answer might have been.
Her only thoughts were of him and the way he felt. Of how badly he wanted her. Of how badly she wanted him.
He held her tightly to him as his kiss moved from her mouth to her chin to her neck.
“Sarah,” he whispered, his breath heating the droplets of water that trickled down her neck.
She had every intention of answering, but her only response was a breathless moan. It was enough.
He covered her mouth again, his tongue demanding the entrance she had no desire to deny him.
One arm slid down and under her legs, and he swept her from her feet, their kiss remaining unbroken as he carried her from the bathroom to the bed they’d shared platonically the night before. This time when he laid her down, he covered her not with blankets, but with his body.
She should be worried about what her wet hair was doing to the pillow under her head, but she didn’t really care.
Couldn’t care when he caught at the corner of her towel and lifted it. The wrap gave way and loosened, sliding down under the guidance of his hand, his skin warm against the wet chill of her own.
Couldn’t think as he lowered his head and blew on the drips that trickled from her hair to her breast before lapping them up with his tongue.
“Oh my God, Ian. What are we doing?”
“What we were born to do,” he whispered before running his tongue up the side of her neck, capturing more water droplets.
He still wore his dress shirt from the night before, the top few buttons undone as they had been when he’d joined her in bed. As she’d drifted off to sleep, she’d marveled at how sexy that looked, how she’d like to undo the remaining buttons.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for those buttons now. She grappled with the tiny bits of plastic, irritated that the buttonholes seemed to hide in the decorative tucks running down the front. When she tugged at the cloth, and growled in frustration, he pulled up and away, rising above her to his knees, straddling her body.
He grasped the front of his shirt with both hands and ripped it open. The tiny buttons made little clicking sounds as they rebounded off the wall and the bedposts, headed for who knew where. Next his tattered shirt sailed through the air to join the buttons somewhere on the floor.
The sight took her breath away. She’d written just such a scene in one of her books, but her words were nothing compared to reality. It was magnificent. He was magnificent.
She reached for his waist, her fingers fumbling at his zipper, but he stopped her, his hands closing over hers, pressing her against the hard length of him.
“I dinna think so, luv.” He grinned down at her. “I’m a wee bit excited, so we’ll be wanting to let the metal down verra carefully. It’s perhaps best I do that.”
“Okay, you do it.” She tightened her fingers around the bulge that strained against her hand, slowly rubbing down and back up again. The bulge twitched and grew even larger under her touch. “But you’d better hurry.”
It seemed like only seconds before his pants joined the tattered shirt somewhere off the side of the bed.
He gently slid one arm under her back, lifting and supporting her weight as he pulled the towel from around her and tossed it away.
“Christ, but yer a beauty.” He ran his hand slowly across her stomach and over her hip.
“Hardly. I’m sure you’ve seen more…”
“Shh.” He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Dinna ever doubt what I tell you, woman.”
Opening her lips, she nibbled at the finger with her teeth before running her tongue down the length of it. At his groan, she took the finger into her mouth, sucking hard.
“It’s a dangerous thing, to tease a man like that, luv,” he rasped, but didn’t move his hand.
She smiled her answer, switching to a second finger, nibbling and sucking as before.
His growl made her giggle. A giggle that quickly died in her throat when he moved over her, his tongue tracing along the side of her breast before taking her nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around and around, and then he began to suck, all in an exact imitation of what she’d done to him. Every nerve in her body tingled in response.
“Ohh,” she sighed. This was unbelievably wonderful. He continued on to the other breast, repeating the process as she felt a need growing in her depths.
He moved his hands down her sides to her hips and then under, grasping her thighs and lifting as he slid his body into place over hers.
She locked her ankles behind his back, marveling at how he fit against her body so perfectly.
“Sarah,” he whispered as she looked into his eyes, so dark she almost thought she could see her reflection there.
He kissed her, soft and tender little kisses, over and over as he slowly rocked his swollen head against her sensitized opening, stroking and building the need in her.
“Sarah,” he breathed against her skin before running the tip of his tongue around her ear, sucking on the lobe as he eased himself just barely into her opening.
He stopped, held himself still, moving no farther.
She grabbed his shoulder, tried to push herself against him, but he held her firmly in place.
“Patience, luv. We’ll get there.” Though his words were calm, his voice sounded strained.
“No patience,” she panted. Now now now now now! her brain screamed.
He chuckled and moved a fraction forward before withdrawing.
She gasped, digging her fingers into his arms.
When he entered the next time, he pressed farther before withdrawing.
She actually moaned, the loss felt so great.
As he entered again, he slid his hands down under her bottom and pulled her to him, plunging himself deeply into her body. He stilled, breathing heavily as he held her close, raining gentle kisses on her face, over her eyelids and back to her lips.
She trembled from the sheer joy of it.
He withdrew, but only part of the way now, driving back into her again.
She tightened her legs around him, lifting to meet his next thrust.
His pace increased, as if in tune to the frenzy building inside her body. Over and over until the tension built to a breaking point. And as she broke, all the little muscles in her body clenching and tightening around him, carrying her to a place of ecstasy where she’d never been before, she heard him whisper again.
“My Sarah.”
Then he found his own release and collapsed beside her, pulling her close to him, kissing her still damp hair as she buried her face against his chest.
* * *
Never, not once in his entire life, had he experienced anything even close to that.
Ian tightened his hold on the woman in his arms.
He no longer doubted. She was meant to be his. His to love, his to cherish, his to protect.
Her protection was his first priority. He would take her back to Thistle Down, where she would be safe. Then he would figure out what he needed to do next, how he would deal with this discovery.
“Sarah?”
“Mm?”
Her vague little noise and satisfied expression filled him with joy, sent the juices of victory flowing through his body.
“We need to get packed, luv, and get on the road.” He sat up, pulling her up with him. She smiled at him and he very nearly pushed her back down.
Instead he climbed from the bed. “I’m going to shower while you have yer coffee. Then I’ll load up our things and we’ll be off.”
“Okay.” She stretched and moved her legs over the side of the bed. “Then we can stop and say good-bye to Will on our way out.”
“No.” Servans could still be there and he wouldn’t have her anywhere near that Nuadian beast again.
“What?” Her smile turned to confusion.
“I said no. I’ll no have you exposed to that man again.”
“Servans, you mean?” She paused, closed her eyes for a minute and then smiled. “He must be gone. I can feel it. It’s perfectly safe for me now.”
“I’ll no take that chance.”
“Ian. I wouldn’t want to bump into that man again either. I wouldn’t go if I thought there was any chance he was still there. But he’s gone. I told you. I would feel the evil if he were still there. Besides, we promised Will.”
Perhaps she was right, but it didn’t matter. She was his to protect now. “No. Will is going to have accept our change of plans. I forbid you to leave the cottage by yerself.”
“You what?”
“Just you sit tight, luv, while I go catch a shower. Yer no to step outside that door without me.”
She said nothing, so he leaned over and kissed her on top of her damp curls before he walked into the bathroom and turned on the water.
Sometimes the old ways were best. She might be angry with him now, but she would get over it. He would do anything to keep her safe. Anything. Even risk her being angry for a little while.
* * *
He can’t tell me what to do.
Sarah stalked out over the lawn, headed toward the main house. Granted, Ian had rescued her from abject humiliation more than once over the course of the past three days, and they had just shared an experience she still could hardly believe, but she would not allow him—or anyone else—to order her about like that. Telling her she wasn’t allowed to leave the cottage by herself.
“ ‘Sit tight, luv,’ ” she mimicked in a false baritone, scrunching up her nose in distaste. “ ‘You’re not to step outside that door without me.’ Well, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ll be taking orders from you or anybody else today. And I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it,” she muttered, but she glanced over her shoulder toward the cottage and quickened her pace all the same.
She shook her head in confusion. Everything had been so wonderful and then, all of a sudden, he’d turned into this time-warp reject of a chauvinist, ordering her around like he had a right to.
It wasn’t happening. She had made a promise to Will and she fully intended to keep it.
Reaching the front door, she lifted her hand to knock just as the door opened and she once again found herself nose to chest with Ramos Servans. This time the chest in question was covered in a white polo.
“Sarah,” he said, pleasure lighting his face. He grasped her arms and pulled her to him for a tight hug. “I’ve been worried sick about you. No one around here was willing to tell me anything about your condition after McCullough carted you away last night.”
She froze, not quite sure what to expect. No uncovered skin on her arms, thankfully. She relaxed a bit.
Holding her away from him, he studied her face. “I don’t see any ill effects from your little fainting spell. In fact, you look quite good this morning.”
“I feel good this morning, thank you.”
A grin lit his face. “Yes. You do feel good.” The grin turned speculative. “I wonder…”
He interrupted his own comment to pull her close again, lowering his mouth to hers. When she opened her mouth to gasp in astonishment, he took advantage of the situation, his tongue darting in quickly to dance around her own.
He let go of her, his grin back in place. “Yes. Well, that answers my question. I’ll be seeing you, Sarah.” Leaning down, he picked up the suitcase she hadn’t noticed before and walked past her.
Fragments of thoughts scampered through her mind, all of which began with What the hell…? but she didn’t manage to verbalize any of those.
“What question?” She was rapidly learning that what came out of her mouth these days frequently bore little relation to what was in her mind at the time.
A white limousine pulled into the drive, a uniformed man jumping out and opening the door before taking the suitcase. Ramos turned back to her, grin still in place.
“I simply wondered if you’d taste as good as you look and feel.” He lifted a hand to wave as he climbed into the car, but leaned out at the last minute. “And you do, by the way.”
Sarah stood, hands on her hips, watching the car drive away. If she took every unusual event she had lived through in her whole entire life, she doubted she’d have enough to equal what she’d experienced since she’d stepped off that plane in Glasgow.
After more than thirty years of feeling every single emotion of every single person she came into physical contact with, suddenly everything she had come to expect had turned upside down.
Since she’d been here, she’d bumped into so many people whose touch was like none she’d ever experienced before. From the all-encompassing evil of Reynard Servans to the vague all-over goodness of Dallyn. Now she could add Ramos Servans to that list of unusual encounters.
Shaking her head, she turned to find an intense pair of blue eyes looking up at her from the doorway.
“The very person I came to see.” She reached out and ruffled the already messy blond hair on Will’s head.
“You should be with Uncle Ian. Where is he?” He looked at her reproachfully as he reached for her hand, pulling her into the foyer and down the hall toward the back of the house.
“Taking a shower.” How did this boy constantly make her feel like the child in their encounters?
They entered the kitchen and Will led her to a small table where two bowls were already filled with cereal. A pitcher of milk sat between them.
“He’s going to be angry with you.” The boy shook his head as he took a seat. “Eat your breakfast.”
“This is mine?”
He nodded. “I knew you were coming.”
“Oh really?” She sat down and reached for the milk. “I thought you said we were alike. I don’t know what’s going to happen before it does. How come you do?”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen before it does either. But I know the way you feel and I felt you getting close.”
Why fight it? Will had more improbable answers for her improbable questions than anyone she’d ever known. She decided perhaps she should listen.
Will smiled and gave her a classic little-boy look, a roll of his eyes. “I said you were like me, Sarah, not exactly like me. Your mommy and daddy didn’t tell you any of the stories, did they?”
“No, honey, they sure didn’t.”
“None of us are exactly alike. It depends on which of the gifts we have. See, in the beginning, when Faeries and men lived together in our world, the Fae were very powerful. They each had all the different gifts. But after the Great Spell, their powers didn’t work the same in the world anymore. Since we only have some Fae in us, we only have a little bit of their gifts.”
Cereal crunching was the only sound in the kitchen as Sarah thought that over.
“What’s this Great Spell?” She took another big bite and waited for her teacher to finish with his own mouthful.
“Duh. It’s what the Earth Mother did to stop the fighting in our world.”
“There’s still plenty of fighting in our world, junior.”
The eye roll again. “Yeah, but that’s only Mortals.” He took another bite and Sarah waited patiently. “It was really bad in those days and the Mortals were taking the worst of it. I mean, think about it. The Fae were stronger, smarter and had all those special skills. Mortals didn’t stand a chance. So the Earth Mother fixed it so the Faeries couldn’t fight when they were in the Mortal Plain. Boy, my dad says that really made the Nuadians angry.” He laughed and wiped a trail of milk from his chin, followed by another large bite.
“Who are the Nuadians?”
Will’s eyes grew very large, and for a moment she feared he might have tried to swallow too much in that last bite. Finally he answered.
“They’re the bad guys. The really bad guys. They’re Fae who messed up everything in the Faerie Realm by trying to take over. So they got kicked out. That’s why there was all that fighting that the Earth Mother had to stop. They gave themselves a new name when they got here to the Mortal Plain. Nuadians. For Nuada of the Silver Hand, a king of the Tuatha de Danann.”
“So, let me make sure I have this straight. We live on the Mortal Plain, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And the Faeries aren’t here anymore because they live in this Faerie Realm. Right?”
Will nodded and continued to spoon cereal into his mouth. “But they’re here sometimes,” he mumbled around his food.
“Okay. Well, if these Nuadians are Faeries who got kicked out of the Faerie Realm, where do they live?”
The little boy shrugged. “Here, somewhere. They can’t get through the Portals.”
Breakfast was finished in silence as Sarah considered which of the two of them was actually the better storyteller. She may be the fiction writer, but the child sitting across the table from her had her beat when it came to imagination. He had an amazing fantasy world going on in that little head.
She also considered her strange response to the boy. His feelings passed to her more strongly than any she’d experienced before. She suspected it might be because of the connection she felt to him. A connection she chalked up to his being such a loving child.
Sarah stood and reached over to ruffle his hair again. “You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with one day, William Daniel Martin Stroud.”
“I know.” He stood on his chair and put his arms around her neck, giving her a hug. “What are you going to tell Uncle Ian?”
“About what?”
His slowly shaking head and the little tsk-tsk sound he made had her smiling until he answered her question.
“About that Ramos man kissing you.”
“I hadn’t thought to tell him anything about it.”
“Why aren’t you going to tell him?”
“Because it meant nothing. And, anyway, it’s not like he’ll ever know about it.”
“He’ll know.”
“Well, even if he did, why would it make any difference to him?”
“Because I’m no fond of sharing, that’s why.”
At the sound of Ian’s voice, Sarah spun around. He filled the doorway, looking larger than she remembered from just an hour ago.
Larger and much, much angrier.
* * *
The longest seven hours of her life.
Ian hadn’t said three sentences to her the entire drive back to Scotland. When they’d stopped for gasoline, he’d waited for her to get out of the car and go into the little shop, staying close, but saying nothing. Even this afternoon, when they’d arrived at Thistle Down, he’d silently carried her bags to the cottage, leaving them inside the door. He’d hesitated, just outside, and she’d thought he might turn and speak to her at last, but he didn’t. He’d walked away without a word.
Sarah sat at her computer, the blinking cursor mocking her continuing inability to communicate with her inner muse. Some great author she had been for the last six months. Nothing. She had nothing.
She placed her index finger on the lighted OFF button and pressed, with only the tiniest twinge of guilt as the screen went to black. Leo, the computer guru at her favorite repair shop, had warned her repeatedly about how bad it was to do that, but the action gave her some perverse sense of control. At worst, she would mess up her computer. Not like it was doing her any good anyway. Not like she was messing up anything important. Not like she was messing up her whole life.
“Ha. I think I might have done that already.”
Honestly she couldn’t understand why Ian was so angry. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Sure, she’d left the cottage when he’d told her not to, but, if anything, she should be the one who was angry at that. Not him. Where did he get off telling her where she could and couldn’t go?
It couldn’t be Ramos, could it? It made no sense that he’d be jealous, and yet one of the last things he’d said had been that remark about not sharing. Even if that were the problem, she hadn’t kissed Ramos; he had kissed her. When he had, she’d felt…nothing.
Literally nothing from the man, as if he somehow held all his emotions tightly locked away. Nothing from her except surprise and confusion that he’d done it. Certainly no attraction. Not at all like when Ian kissed her.
When Ian kissed her it felt right, like she was complete. A whole person. But there was no point in going there now.
She rose from her chair, walking aimlessly through the cottage and out the back door. With no particular destination in mind, she strolled across the lawn and into the gardens, finding and following the main path until eventually she came to the crossroads.
Once again she felt the strong pull to wander down the fork Ian had warned her against, but she resisted, going only as far as the tree she’d almost collided with on her first trek down the path. She knelt, running her fingers over the bark, trying to understand what force drew her in this direction. The tree gave her no answers.
“Maybe there are no answers,” she whispered as she turned to sit. Her back cradled against the broad trunk, she closed her eyes. “Maybe it’s just Will’s Faeries calling to me.”
“That verra well may be.”
Sarah’s eyes flew open at the quiet sound of his voice. Ian, framed in the glow of the sun at his back, stood by her outstretched feet, looking down at her.
She raised her hand to shield the glare from her eyes. “I didn’t know you were anywhere around. How did you sneak up on me so quietly?” Her eyes had been closed only a minute.
“I dinna sneak. Call it a talent…or a gift.” He shrugged and then put his arms behind his back, bringing to Sarah’s mind a soldier at parade rest. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Dinna make this more difficult than it already is, Sarah.”
“I’m not trying to. What do we need to talk about?”
Ian sighed deeply and squatted down to her eye level, reaching out and taking her hand between his two. “Everything that’s happened. Faeries and feelings, danger and safety. Trust. We need to talk about us.”
“Is there an ‘us’ to talk about?” She asked the question, not sure she wanted the answer, regardless of what it would be.
“I guess that’s what we need to talk about.” A small, almost forced grin flitted across his face as he rose, pulling her to her feet. “Henry’s out this evening, dining at the home of a lady friend. Come up to the main house tonight and have dinner with me. We can talk then.”
“I don’t know, Ian. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
“No, I didn’t mean about dinner. I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” he interrupted. “But for now, say you’ll have dinner with me. We’ll worry about the rest of it tonight.”
This time the smile he bestowed on her was genuine. It dazzled her, beguiled her into smiling in return.
“Seven?”
“Okay.” How could she refuse him? “Dinner at seven.”
He lightly kissed the back of her hand before striding away down the path in the direction she wasn’t supposed to take.
Sarah watched him disappear into the thick foliage, shaking her head. Dinner and a talk, that’s all it would be. A chance to clear the air so they could go back to being friends.
Was that really all she wanted?
“Yes,” she said out loud in an attempt to reinforce the thought. “Dinner and a talk. That’s all. No ‘us.’ Only dinner and a talk.”
But it was Shakespeare’s line about the lady protesting too much that bubbled through her mind as she made her way back to the cottage.
* * *
“So it’s Reynard we’re dealing with. Was there anyone else—any other Fae with him?” Dallyn was perched on a tree limb a couple of feet off the ground, his back resting against the trunk.
Ian paced back and forth in front of the Portal. “No one but Ramos, though he’s no a full-blood. There was another Fae there earlier. Spying on us, I believe.”
Dallyn stilled on his perch. “Do you have any idea who it might have been?”
“He goes by the name of Flynn O’Dannan. Why?”
“Ah. Flynn.” Dallyn nodded as if to himself, seeming to relax again. “No reason. So, you left Reynard at Glaston House?”
“No, he was already gone. He apparently left right after Sarah’s collapse, while Danny and I were still at the cottage.”
“Why didn’t you deal with him then and there when this first happened?”
“I think you know the answer to that. There were too many innocent bystanders.”
“And Sarah to look after.” Dallyn swung down off the limb, coming to stand in front of Ian.
“Don’t be thinking to complain to me of that. Yer the one who put her under my protection. Yer the one who insisted I take her with me and expose her to that vile horror.” He shook his head and started to pace again. “I should have refused in the beginning. I should have left her here.”
“And what would you have done had he come here instead while you were at Glaston House and she here alone, unprotected?”
“She would have been safe here.”
Dallyn’s laugh was short and without humor. “Don’t deceive yourself, young Ian. You make a serious mistake if you think a Fae of Reynard’s power can’t find a way around your defenses.”
“No.” Ian felt the intended sting of rebuke in Dallyn’s address to him, but he refused to give in to it. “No. The only mistake I made was in listening to yer plan to put Sarah in jeopardy. I’ll no do that again, General.”
Dallyn walked toward the Portal, stopping to glance back before he entered. “Consider well your actions. Each small movement in the pond results in ripples, each ripple having far-reaching consequences.”
Ian shook his head and turned his back on the Fae, heading down the path toward the manor house.
“We’ll speak of this tomorrow, Ian.”
He heard the Fae but didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge the comment, as he stalked angrily toward home.
Ponds and ripples and consequences.
They all spoke in riddles. The more important the message, the greater the riddle. Even after all these years it still irritated him that he’d yet to meet a full-blood Fae who would just say what he meant.
* * *
“Pardon?”
Ian had been looking right at her across the dining table, watching her delicious pink lips move. Unfortunately he had no idea what words had come out of them. He’d been watching her all through dinner, so consumed with the sight and smell of Sarah that he couldn’t eat. He had no desire for the food in front of him, only for the woman who sat across the table.
She wore the same pale gauzy gown she had the morning he’d secretly watched her in the yard. Even now the thought of how she had looked with the first rays of sunlight glowing around her, the breeze molding that dress to her body, warmed him, stirred his own body to life.
“I was asking if you’d changed your mind about our talk? You’ve been remarkably quiet all evening for someone who wanted to discuss…everything.”
He bit back a smile at her carefully chosen words. There hadn’t been much conversation throughout dinner. He’d found himself oddly reluctant to begin with Martha serving the meal and then separated from them only by the door between the dining room and kitchen. She had cleared the table a few minutes earlier and they were relaxing over their wine.
“Sorry. I’m thinking a bit more privacy might be in order.” He glanced at the door to the kitchen with a raised eyebrow, turning to find her looking in the same direction.
“Agreed.”
“I know,” he said, rising from his seat. “Bring yer glass and come with me.” He clasped his glass and the wine bottle in one hand, catching up her hand with his other.
He led her to a back door and out into the gardens behind the house, down a side path to a cozy gazebo covered in climbing roses. They ducked inside, where a continuous bench lined the walls. A small table sat in the center with a lamp hanging down from the rafters above it.
After setting the bottle and his glass on the table, Ian lifted one of the generous cushions covering the bench to reveal a hidden drawer. He removed a box of matches and pulled the lamp down to light the candles it held.
“Privacy at last.”
He smiled and watched her slip off one sandal so she could tuck her leg under her when she sat. The gauzy gown settled around her, and he noticed for the first time as he sat next to her tiny threads in the material that reflected the glow of the candlelight.
He topped off both their glasses and leaned back against the cushion, still undecided how much to tell her. Enough to ensure her safety, certainly, but how much would be enough? He didn’t want to go too far. Too much could be overwhelming and she’d never believe him.
She sipped her wine, then put the glass on the table and turned to him. “Where do you want to start?”
The time to plan his speech had passed.
“When did you first start to have those feelings about people?”
She took a deep breath, and her arms slipped around her middle, the self-protective gesture he’d seen so often. She scooted back, putting distance between them, facing him. He’d let her have her space for the moment.
“Is that what this is all about? My feelings?”
“No, luv, that’s only a part of it. I told you, we need to discuss everything.”
He couldn’t stand the look of hurt in her eyes, couldn’t stand the thought he had caused that hurt. He set his own glass away and, reaching down, he captured the foot she’d left on the floor and lifted it to his lap, removing her remaining sandal in the process. He started a slow circling massage with his thumbs on the sole of her foot.
“Was it about the time you turned seven, by any chance?” Her head snapped up, the look of wariness he saw confirming what he already suspected would be true.
“How did you know that?” Barely a whisper of sound.
“It’s the age when the gifts normally manifest themselves. Seven.”
“Gifts?”
“The gifts of yer heritage, Sarah. Gifts of yer blood.”
She tried to pull her foot away, to sit up straight, but he wasn’t ready to relinquish control of it yet. He wasn’t ready to break the physical contact either. He wanted to touch her. When her forehead wrinkled in a frown he barely managed to resist the urge to smooth it away.
“Oh, please tell me we are not talking about Will’s Faeries here, are we?”
Without releasing her foot, he leaned forward and handed her glass back to her before resuming the slow massage.
“Just listen and think about what I’m telling you, about a mysterious people whose stories have been told for centuries in widely different cultures all around the world. Strangely similar stories of powerful beings who appear to Mortals only when and where they choose to, in a variety of shapes and sizes. Sometimes they’re helpful, sometimes harmful, depending on the story. They’re called Fatua in Italy, Fées in France, Amazula in Africa, Tylwyth Teg in Wales. To the Irish they’re known as Tuatha dé Danann. They’re the Phi race of Thailand, the Lele of Romania, the elves of Scandanavia. Even yer own Native Americans have a variety of names for these beings.”
“Those are just fairy tales,” she scoffed, her eyes widening as she realized what she’d said.
“Aye, they are that, luv. Tales of the Fae. A race more ancient than you can imagine. Though they dinna live with us anymore, they are still among us. They still live through many of us.”
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “That’s too fantastic, Ian. It’s bad enough coming from a six-year-old, but surely you don’t believe that fantasy yourself.”
“Accept it for the moment, just for the sake of argument. We’ll come back to yer believing it later.” He held up a hand to silence her protest. “Will told you of the great internal war of the Fae and how some of them were banished from their home, aye?”
She nodded, the look of skepticism still strong in her eyes.
“Those are the ones who are a danger to descendants of the Fae. To you.”
“Look, Ian, even if I did believe there were actually something as extraordinary as Faeries at one point in history, I certainly can’t accept that I descend from them. There’s nothing at all special about me.”
“Oh, aye,” he taunted. “Yer a normal woman, walking the face of the earth, touching people and knowing everything they feel. Everyone can do that, can they no?”
She had no reply, so he answered for her.
“No. Everyone canna do that. Yer special. You’ve Fae blood in you. And as a result, yer in danger from those evil ones who roam the Mortal Plain, looking for a way back to the Faerie Realm so they can continue the destruction they started all those centuries ago.”
“Why would they want me? What could I possibly do for them?”
“You’ve the power to see the Portals they need. With you they could find their way back into the Faerie Realm. Once that happens, life as we know it here, now, will be altered.”
“Okay, if what you say is true, then why is Will able to feel things? Didn’t you say all those Faerie gifts kick in when you’re seven? He’s barely six.”
“I told you seven is the age the gifts normally manifest themselves. On the rare occasion a child is born who’s more powerful in the gifts for one reason or another. Will is such a child.”
Her head bowed, she stared at her hands in her lap for what seemed an eternity to him before looking up. “And you know all this how?”
“Because I am Fae as well.”
“I thought you said you were a Highlander?”
“I am. My mother was a daughter of the laird of the McCullough clan. My father was full-blooded Fae.”
She stared at him incredulously, shaking her head. “You actually believe this, don’t you? I have no idea what to say to you. And even if I could suspend belief for this discussion, I still don’t see what any of that has to do with what’s gone on between us today.”
“It’s everything to do with it. I dinna handle today at all well. I know that and I’m sorry for it. But when I thought you in danger this morning, when I came out of the shower and you were gone, it frightened me, Sarah. And I’m no a man who knows fear or how to deal with it.”
“Oh, Ian.” She did pull her foot away then, moving forward onto her knees and placing her palm on his cheek.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, burying his face in her hair.
Strawberries. She smelled of strawberries. His favorite.
The aroma lightened as she pulled back to look at him.
“I never meant to frighten you. But I’m not going to allow anyone to tell me what I can and can’t do. And besides, I told you. There was nothing at Glaston House to fear.”
His jaw dropped. “I canna believe you, of all people, could sit here and say that. What of the evil you touched for yerself just last night?”
She drew back, a frown wrinkling her brow. “I didn’t feel any of it this morning. I mean, who knows? Maybe the whole thing was my imagination. Simply the product of everything that happened.” Both feet were tucked under her this time. “Maybe…maybe the excitement, the alcohol, the stress of seeing Brad there. All that combined might have contributed to it. Like a migraine or something. I still find it almost impossible to believe something like that could have been real.”
“Oh, it was real, Sarah. Verra real. I canna believe you still try to deny all that you’ve seen for yerself. Reynard Servans is evil personified. He’s a Nuadian Faerie. And I want yer promise to stay away from him and his brother.”
If that’s even what he is.
“Ramos was a perfect gentleman. I didn’t feel anything evil or bad about him.”
“But you did with Reynard. You must trust those feelings. I’m telling you, yer in great danger from that man.”
“Honestly, Ian. You can’t seriously expect me to believe the man is a Faerie, for God’s sake, just because I had some bizarre response to him.”
“Verra well. Let me ask you a question. Do you remember where Reynard Servans told you he was from?” He’d already said more than he’d intended, and still she wasn’t convinced. He might as well share with her what it was he’d remembered while at Glaston House.
“Switzerland. Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Going back to my earlier story for a bit, do you know what they call those of the legend in Switzerland?”
When she shook her head in response, he answered his own question.
“Servans. They’re called Servans in Switzerland.”
* * *
Sarah wasn’t ready to accept the truth yet. He felt sure of it. She stubbornly clung to her myth of reality, refusing to acknowledge the truth of what he told her.
If she couldn’t accept she was Fae, couldn’t accept that he was, how could he expect her to believe she was his Soulmate? There was no point in discussing it. He’d have to wait.
For now, he should do the right thing. He just hated to let go of her.
After their talk, and her agreement not to see the Servans brothers again, Sarah and Ian had sat in silence, drinking their wine, each lost in their own thoughts. At one point, he’d pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her. She snuggled there still, in the protection of his body, her head on his chest. He could feel her shivers against him now. The gauzy dress he found so fascinating was no protection against the chill of a damp Scottish night.
The right thing would be to take her back to her cottage and let her go inside, but that would mean the loss of her body next to his. The loss of her essence surrounding him, lulling him into a sense of…what?
Completion. When he held Sarah, it felt like she belonged there, as if she were a part of him, an integral extension like his arm or his leg…or his heart. His own heart pounded in his chest at the thought.
Another shudder, this one more pronounced, and his common sense overruled his desire.
He’d do what was right. As he always did. It was his destiny. He was, after all, a Guardian.
“Come on, it’s gone cold. Let’s get you home.” He lifted his arm but she wrapped both of hers around his chest, holding on.
“Not yet. I’m not cold.” Her next shiver belied her brave words.
“Sarah, luv, yer shivering hard enough to rattle the damn bench.” He kissed the top of her head, flooding his senses with the aroma of fresh strawberries. “Come on now. Get up, lass.”
She shook her head against his chest and gripped him more tightly. “No. I’m not ready.”
“Not ready for what?” He looked down at her quizzically.
“For tonight to be over. I don’t want to let go yet.”
As if that’s what he wanted.
“Did I say anything about tonight being over? We just need to get you inside.” He grinned as a thought occurred to him. “And if letting go is yer problem, I can fix that.”
He turned in her grasp and slid his free arm under her legs, standing as he did so.
Her gasp was accompanied by her arms flying up to clutch around his neck. He didn’t even try to prevent his chuckle at the little squeaky sound she made.
“Put me down. You can’t carry me all the way to the cottage. I’m too heavy.”
“You were the one who dinna want to let go.” He grinned. “Besides, yer a mere feather, darlin’. I’m no putting you down till we get there, so put an end to yer wiggling and hang on.”
She studied him for a moment as if to judge the depth of his sincerity before laying her head on his shoulder. With her every exhale, a little puff of air stirred the hair against his neck sending tingles throughout his body, awakening need deep within his core.
He paused at the door to the cottage, shifting her weight as he fumbled with the handle and her head popped up.
“My sandals. I left them in the gazebo.”
“I’ll bring yer shoes down tomorrow. Dinna fret yerself over it.”
Inside, he kicked the door shut with his foot before leaning down to deposit her feet on the floor. Sarah’s arms remained locked around his neck as he straightened, drawing her up next to him. His own arms closed around her reflexively.
Time stood still as he searched her eyes, open and accepting.
“Is there an ‘us,’ Ian?”
In response, his hands slid up to her cheeks, framing her face, his fingers moving, as if of their own accord, up into the silken curls. He rubbed the strands between his fingers, watching her mouth, the quick nervous move of her tongue to moisten her lips.
Just a taste. He could still do what was right, follow his destiny.
He lowered his head and nibbled her lips, the lips he’d hungered for all evening. They were every bit as satisfying as he’d remembered. At the lightest touch of his tongue they parted, allowing him full access. He tasted the wine they’d shared earlier, so much better now, shared this way. Beyond that, he tasted Sarah. Savored her.
It wasn’t enough. He wanted more.
He trailed kisses down the creamy softness of her neck, stopping to nip at the tensed muscles there, following their path to her shoulder. His fingers drifted to the rounded neckline of her gauzy dress. He pushed out and the elastic willingly gave way, gliding down the sides of her shoulders, exposing more of the skin he wanted, needed.
He was nibbling his way down one of those shoulders when his breath caught in his throat.
Sarah was busy, too. He hadn’t noticed when she’d let go of his neck or how she’d slipped those delicate hands under his shirt, but as her fingers moved up his chest, a shiver went through him and the hair on his body rose with chill bumps.
Hair wasn’t the only thing on his body that had risen.
She groaned and he smiled against the soft skin of her shoulder. They’d been here before. He knew what she wanted, but he needed to hear her say it.
“What, Sarah? What do you want?”
“Would you do something for me?” Her fingers clenched against his skin as if she were soaking up the very texture of him.
“Ask it, luv. Anything you want.”
“Take off your shirt for me, Ian. Just that one thing,” she whispered.
“Aye.” He tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it away, his hands returning immediately to her shoulders.
“But be warned, luv, as the saying goes, one thing leads to another.” He gently pushed the elastic neckline a second time and said a quick prayer of thanks for the ingenious Mortals who’d invented the stretchy miracle as the material slipped easily down her arms.
She took her hands from his chest only long enough to pull them from the sleeves and then they were on his back, stroking, exploring.
One more push and the opening grew larger, slipped again, falling to her waist. His hands guided its progress, appreciating the soft bare skin he found there. One last push channeled it over the swell of her hips, and the gown fell to the floor, pooling at her feet.
“That must have been the ‘another’ you warned me about,” she murmured.
A witty comeback formed in his mind, but it fled his conscious thought completely when her tongue brushed across his nipple. Once, twice before settling there, tiny little flicks lighting a fire in his body, in his very soul.
He’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe.
Back to her shoulder, he nibbled his way across. A bra strap impeded his journey and he grasped it with his teeth, his hands too fully occupied exploring the newly exposed terrain of her lower back. Soft, flawless territory, open to the lacy bit covering her perfect heart-shaped bottom.
He pulled the strap off her shoulder and traced with his tongue the spot where it had lain. His hands, moving up, hit the material stretched across her back, smooth and unbroken as his fingers trailed across it. He pulled her away from him.
Ah, as he’d thought. Front latch.
He lowered his head to her breast, sliding his hands down her back, cupping that perfect bottom and pulling her close. One suck through the material of her bra and her hands stilled on his back. A second and her breath caught in a small gasp. Moving his head, he popped the fastening open with his teeth, freeing the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. His mouth moved over one, his tongue lavishing it with the same care she had shown him. She moaned and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his pants, sliding down, down, her fingers trailing fire in their wake.
To hell with the right thing.
This was his destiny. Sarah was his destiny.
He slid his arm behind her legs and straightened, lifting her for the second time that evening. He headed for the bedroom, but stopped outside the door.
“This is the ‘another’ I warned you about.” He searched her eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation. “We dinna have to do this if you dinna want to.” He wasn’t sure he’d survive it if she told him to stop, but he had to know after everything that had passed between them today. If she wasn’t ready to accept her heritage, she might not be ready to accept him. He had to give her the opportunity to make that choice.
“No, I want this, too.”
He carried her to the bed, lowering her gently. Sitting down next to her, he removed his shoes and socks, feeling his nerves spark to life before standing to fumble with his belt buckle. His hands stilled as he looked at her lying there, watching him, her tilted green eyes heavy with desire.
His Faerie goddess.
He wanted this to be better for her than any she had ever experienced, ever imagined, and here he was, suddenly as nervous as if it were his first time.
She moved to the edge of the bed on her knees. Reaching over, she grasped his belt and undid the buckle with trembling fingers, but stopped at the zipper.
“You want to do this part, right?”
He lowered the zipper and worked himself free, watching her eyes widen.
“Problem?”
She shook her head. Reaching out a finger toward him, she hesitated, then withdrew, putting her hand in her lap.
“Wow. That’s pretty impressive when you take the time to look.”
He laughed. As quickly as the nervousness had come, it was gone. He stepped free of his pants and climbed onto the bed, covering her with his body.
He ran his hand across her stomach, stopping at the lace barrier of her underwear. Once more he searched her eyes. The excitement he saw there mirrored his own.
“These are quite lovely,” he said, running the tip of his index finger along the band of lace. He delighted in the chill bumps that sprang up under his fingers as she responded to his touch. He slid the lacy barrier down her legs and tossed it across the room.
“But no half so lovely as what you hide underneath the lace.”
The heat of color bloomed in her cheeks and spread down her neck. He watched it for a moment before giving in to the desire to bury his face in that heat, tracing its progress with his tongue.
Lost in the softness of her, he left the color behind, making his way down her body, stopping for a time at each perfect breast, caressing and tasting until her breath came in quick little puffs.
Farther down, onto the pale, flat expanse of stomach, he rubbed his cheek against her smooth skin, savoring its texture and scent. The smell of her skin intoxicated him.
On he moved, nibbling and tasting his way to her soft, tender thigh. He left a wet trail on her delicate skin with his hot tongue before lifting his head and blowing a gentle puff of air, feeling her shiver under his hands as he did so.
She gasped when he turned his head, exhaling his warm breath over another part of her.
“No, wait,” she panted. “You don’t have to—”
“Oh, but I do.” He needed this, needed to know every intimate detail her body had to share.
Her hands fisted in the covers as if she fought the sensations he gave her, but she pressed into him, her involuntary moan of pleasure sending a rush of arousal to every fiber of his being. He wanted more, wanted to send her over the edge of the precipice where she held herself.
Stroking the inside of her thigh, he slipped his finger into the warm depths of her as he tormented her sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.
She yelled out his name, her body bucking against him as he felt the muscular spasms around his finger.
He slid up her body, covering her gasping breaths with his mouth, nipping at her lips, capturing her tongue with his own.
Centering himself, he entered her, pushing deeper and deeper as she wrapped her legs around his back, lifting her body to meet his, thrust for thrust.
Again and again, until once more she reached her peak and broke around him like a wild ocean wave crashing against the shore.
Blond curls clung to her perspiration-dampened face and he brushed them back. Her eyes fluttered open and the passion he saw in them inflamed his desire for her.
He pushed into her again, slowly at first, then faster and harder as she urged him on, until at last he gave in to his own frenzy of sensation, taking her with him once more.
She laid in his arms, cuddled next to him as he kissed her face, her eyes, her mouth.
This was what he wanted. To see her satisfied. To claim her. To know she belonged to him.
No matter what it took, he would think of something, find some way to reconcile the two halves of his life.