“Is that me?” he muttered. “Not possible.”
“’Tis Remy,” Fallon said. “Our brother. The Keeper and a Caindale true. But it matters not what his name is here and now. It matters only that he is now and forever. That thou art now and forever.”
“We are one?” he asked.
“Always.”
“I have to talk with him,” Ryder whispered. He started forward, but Honora grabbed his arm.
“Nay,” she said. “’We forbid it. We know not what might happen if ye occupy the same space in this time. ‘Tis not in our realm of knowledge yet. We have kept him under enchantment. Fallon has given them a potion so he will not waken. Remy would be fearful of thy presence. Remy is a Keeper, as are thee. The ways of the Trinity are not to be understood by Keepers. ’Tis most dangerous.”
“A Keeper,” Ryder said, nodding his head. “I’m the Keeper at home. At least that’s what they tell me. But I wasn’t born to the Kendall family. They adopted me.”
“No,” Fallon said, “thou wert not, so thy parents had to search until they found thee. They searched long and hard to find the perfect soul to complete their family. And they finally found you. Remember this, Ryder: Thou art a Caindale true. Thou always were, and thou always will be.”
“And Arleigh?”
“Remy calls her Aislynn,” Fallon said, “and he loves her. How could he not? She is, I fear, the Leanan sidhe. And yet he thrives. We do not understand it, but we know the love is meant to be.”
“He looks amazingly fit,” Ryder said. “He’s not suffering from the curse. This is the true love she had, and because of it, she’ll be punished.”
Fallon exchanged glances with her sisters, and Caitlyn took a step toward him.
“Aye, thou speakest truly,” Caitlyn said. “It has begun. Her aura will soon grow dim. Already her shadow fadeth, in spite of the binding spell. Look with thy heart, and thee will see her spirit is lightening. She will soon enter the ether world. There is naught we can do to stop it, and I am sorry for Remy.”
“They belong together,” Ryder said. “Two souls that will wither, and lives that will hold no meaning without the other.”
“Ye belong together,” Caitlyn said. “It matters not what time binds thee. We cannot give Remy his true love. But we can give her to thee.”
Ryder could not take his eyes from the bed. The woman’s body curled softly around her lover, his arm tight around her. They slept in peace, wrapped in each other’s arms. Soon, he knew the Leanan sidhe would be gone, and Remy would be wounded. These three women would have to save his life.
“I was not in the 17th century when Arleigh was reborn.”
“Nay,” Fallon said, “thou wert not.”
“So you arranged it.”
“Aye,” Fallon said. “Stephen was a true Caindale and a very gentle man, but not the one for her. Thou wert the one, but not where thou were meant to be. I thought long on what to do. When Stephen was killed, the answer became clear. But I did not see Lord Cardew’s future.”
“You mean Flynn?” Ryder asked.
“Aye,” Fallon said. “Cameron Flynn. Lord Cardew.”
“A freaking lord,” Ryder said. “Figures. No wonder he wanted back here. Too bad you couldn’t have seen that coming. Could have saved a lot of grief.”
“Aye,” Fallon said. “I understand thy meaning, but there art some magics I cannot control. Faery magic springs from a well of surprise. One can ne’er predict the actions of banshees. Or the bloody nobility. I saw the intention too late. I did fear Cardew’s action, but indeed we were busy saving Remy’s life.”
“With witchcraft?”
“Of course,” she said with a smile. “He was dying.”
“But hasn’t all of this already happened?” Ryder asked. “How are we going to change something that has already happened? And how is it you seem to know all this?”
“’Tis magic, Ryder,” Fallon said. “Witchcraft. Thou art not expected to understand. How can it be thou art physically in two places at the same time? How is it thou hast met three sets of sisters within days of each other that span eight centuries? How is it Lord Cardew was a Ganconor but ’tis now a mortal man? These questions I fear will cause madness, and as I listen to thee, I think mayhap thou hast not far to go.”
“You’re very funny,” he said. “You girls love a joke at my expense, don’t you?”
“Indeed,” Fallon said. “But my words should be taken seriously. ’Tis best not to think on the questions that plague thee. Thou art for the woman. The Leanan sidhe. Thou hast tamed her. When thee resisted the power of her magic and offered true love instead, her spirit became yours. We could not give the gift of love to Remy, but we have given it to thee. ’Tis enough.”
“Arleigh is all I want,” Ryder said. “That’s why I’m here. Wait. You said Flynn is a mortal man?”
“Of course. ’Tis why Fiana has sent him to a time before the faery magic. ’Tis why we have kept Remy and the Leanan sidhe under enchantment. ’Tis very dangerous to do so but necessary to keep them apart from Lord Cardew. Fiana would not have sent a Ganconor to us. ’Twould be too dangerous.”
“That works out pretty well,” Ryder said. “I’ll be able to kill him as a mortal before he can become the Ganconor.”
“We have kept the Leanan sidhe bound,” Caitlyn said. “She has not met Lord Cardew. She was the reason he came here, the reason he tried to slay Remy, and the reason he became the Ganconor. There is no reason to kill him now.”
“Ganconor or not, I still want him dead.”
“And thou reasons that will solve the problems?” Honora asked.
“What else can I do? What else would I be here for?”
“We know not,” Honora said. “Fiana must have had a reason. She sent thee here.”
“I insisted she send me,” Ryder said.
“Fiana is very strong-willed,” Fallon said. “Thou would not have convinced her if she did not have a secret purpose.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Ryder said. “But I’ll find him, and I’ll kill him. And I’ll make sure he stays dead.”
“Is that possible for thee?” Honora asked.
“Believe me, the world is better off without him.”
“I have known him as a man,” Fallon said. “I have seen him as the Ganconor. Both are dangerous. Both are deadly.”
“But I have the element of surprise,” Ryder said. “And I intend to use it.”
Caitlyn stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. “Thou hast not the heart of a killer.”
“I’ll fake it,” Ryder said.
The three sisters sighed, and Honora pulled the door closed on Remy and his Leanan sidhe.
Chapter 36
Arleigh knew when the door opened who stood at the threshold. His stare ran the length of her body and sent shivers through her. She wanted desperately to keep her back turned, hoping he would leave her, but she had made a promise to her lady. She finished smoothing the bedclothes and turned to face him.
“Where is my wife?” he demanded
“She hath gone to the squire’s cottage, my lord,” Arleigh said. “”Twill be a babe born this night.”
“Stop talking like that,” he snapped.
“How shall I speak, my lord?”
“Like Arleigh Donovan,” he said.
“I do not remember Arleigh Donovan, my lord,” she said.
“Damned if I can figure out why,” he said. “Your memory should be intact. The enchantment should not have interfered with memory, or emotion, or how you feel about me. Those little witches must have done something.”
He closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, studying her. Arleigh’s stomach rolled over, and she suddenly regretted the promise she had made. He began to walk across the room, and she backed up slightly.
“There was a time when you called me Cameron,” he said.
“I do not remember,” she said. “We were close?”
“Very close,” he said.
“We are to be close again?” Arleigh asked.
He nodded. “Don’t you think it’s time we stopped playing games? I plan to tell that bitch that things will change between us, and she can do nothing to stop it.”
Arleigh willed herself to move toward him. She concentrated on his face. If she had judged him on his looks alone, she would have found him a most worthy man. But the smile that curved on his lips held more than a trace of cruelty, and the blue eyes that seemed to sparkle shone with a brightness that had its origins in something beyond her understanding. She met his eyes, but she felt like the victim of a giant predator that had been caught in a trap.
“My lady will not approve,” she said. “I belong to her.”
“No,” Flynn said. “That’s where you’re wrong. I brought you here for me. For my pleasure.”
“I am pleasing to thee?” Arleigh asked. She reached out and placed her hand against his chest. His heart pounded.
“Oh, aye. Very pleasing. I want you. And I will have you. Your lady does not rule over Cardew Manor. It is my home. And everything in it, including the lady and you, belongs to me.”
“’Tis my duty to serve,” Arleigh said. “If thou wishes to use me for thy pleasure, then—”
He yanked her toward him, and before she had a moment to think, to move, to react, he crushed and held her in an embrace that tore the breath from her. Her head fell back, and his mouth came down hard on hers, stealing her thoughts and weakening her legs so that she buckled against him. He pulled her tighter, and his kiss deepened.
She wanted to push against him, but her arms were trapped at her sides. She had no choice but to move them up his body. She needed to get away from him. The promise she had made would steal too much of her soul, and she didn’t know how much she had left. Being so close to him made her heart flutter with fear and betrayal, and yet, she had done only what the lady had asked.
Touch him. Tease him. Make him love thee. The spirit of the Leanan sidhe is alive, trapped but yearning for release. It needs only a place to dwell. I will have revenge for my dead children. I will have my live son returned to me. I cannot share my son’s life with the father alive. Allow Cardew to love thee, and I can have my life returned. Perhaps I can be happy. And we will be free.
Arleigh thought of the lady’s words and wanted to give Cullen a chance at happiness, to have the life that had been denied to her. She fought against the urge to pull away from the strange man who seemed so familiar and foreign at the same time. Her lips began to tingle as he pulled and sucked at them with his mouth.
A heat stirred in her body, wavering like a flickering candle, fanned by a sudden breeze. It pulsed through her, sweeping into her limbs, flowing through her pelvis, and finding the soft core of her soul buried deep inside. It made her head swim, and she felt light-headed and unfocused.What thoughts she had were being expelled to allow entry for something else, something she could not fathom.
Something tugged at her then hurled through her body with blinding speed, gathering strength and life from the fire her body created. She tried to fight the sensations, tried to block the fire, tried desperately to push away the hard body that seemed fastened to her own. What had sought the heat with a vengeance and settled within her? What pushed at her? She could not fight it. The pleasure, the desire, was too strong to battle. Besides, what swept through her like a hurricane tide felt so wonderful, so purposeful, she had no choice but to acquiesce.
Locked in Flynn’s arms, Arleigh’s body relaxed. Her arms lifted and curled around his neck. Her body softened against his. Her lips opened. Flynn moaned softly against her mouth.
She tugged at his shirt, and they collapsed on the bed, his mouth running across her throat, across her breasts. His hands pulled her skirt and swept across her thighs, searching eagerly for the heat, the fire. She pressed against him, her arms hugging his neck, her fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Over his shoulder she saw the shadow of her lady, tucked into an alcove near the window. Cullen nodded, and Arleigh cupped the husband’s face within her hands.
“The sedge is withered from the lake,” Arleigh said. “And no birds sing.”
“I don’t understand,” Flynn said. “What does it mean?”
“It means thou wilt belong to me,” she whispered.
“Always. Forever. Until I die.”
“Aye,” Arleigh said. “Until death.”
She pulled his face down and locked her mouth over his.
* * * *
Cameron Flynn roamed throughout the castle like a pale ghost. He could not focus or concentrate. He had accounts to settle, repairs to oversee, tribute to collect. There were crops withering in his fields, animals dying in the heat. The summer blazed, and the sun threatened to destroy his assets and his future, but only one thought filled his mind. Arleigh Donovan. He could not get her out of his head. She had spun and woven herself through his brain like the gossamer threads of an intricate web. She strangled his mental capacity until the only thing that occupied his thoughts, his feelings, was her.
His mind had become a giant labyrinth. He started out each day on a path in which he set goals for himself, tasks he needed to accomplish. He left the manor house with the rising sun, eager to begin his day. During the early morning, he tackled his responsibilities with a vengeance, hurling directives toward his serfs, his stable masters, and his craftsmen. But some time during the early afternoon, he took a turn in the labyrinth that led him to thoughts of Arleigh. After that turn, he became lost, and the only way he could find himself was to seek her out. He would find himself standing in the courtyard, disoriented and confused, wondering how he had arrived there.
His need for her caused an ache to spread through his body, and when he could not find her, the pain tore through him like a rusty blade. Damn her! Even when he did find her, cornering her in a dark alcove, pulling her into a barn, and pushing her down on the straw, his need for her could not be abated. She would kiss him. Her hands would roam across his body, sending waves of pleasure through him. She would allow him to lie against her, allow his lips to travel across her flesh. Her kisses and her touch would drive him to the point where he thought he would die of need for her.
Yet each time his hands sought her heat, each time he thought he would burst with his need for her, his wife, that bitch, would appear out of nowhere. Arleigh would adjust her skirt, push against him, and vanish, leaving him bewildered, unfulfilled, dying inside.
When she refused him, he spent the rest of his day wandering around the estate. The serfs and servants stared at him. He knew what they thought, and he did not care. He did not even care that they dared to watch him, although normally he would have had them whipped for their boldness. He had more important things to think about than the impudence of servants. He had Arleigh, and his need for her caused him to forget all other things, even the joy he had once taken in making the lives of others miserable.
He spent his time seeking her, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, living for one moment when her lips would graze across his cheek, when her hand would trail across his chest. He would grab at her, catch her arm, pull her skirt, anything to get her close to him, if only for the briefest of moments. Her lips smiled, her eyes promised him such delights, and that bitch, Cullen, would appear out of nowhere once again.
He allowed his crops to burn in the sun. He let his animals die of thirst. The fencing rotted, and the stone walls crumbled. His tenants suffered as they struggled to exist. He did not care. He lived for Arleigh.
He was dying of love for her. And he didn’t care.
Chapter 37
Cardew Manor rose out of the early morning mist, a giant blot on the beauty of the landscape, with dark stone walls, massive turrets and long, narrow windows. An actual moat and drawbridge protected the castle.
“Home sweet home,” Ryder said to the horse. “I don’t care much for his architectural taste, but at least he gave up the drawbridge and moat in Jam
estown. Not much need for them when you’re top dog. But here, yeah, a definite need. He’s probably not a very popular fellow around here. Let’s go see how happy he is to see me.”
He usually knocked, but hey, the drawbridge was down. He rode into the courtyard, and the state of disrepair startled him. The summer appeared to have been hard. Across the countryside, he had seen plenty of dead animals, and crops had died, but throughout all the estates he had crossed, he noticed a fury of activity to try to repair the damage. Tenants had tried to divert river water to irrigate the fields. Animals were corralled in areas where plentiful water existed. It looked here as though Flynn had done nothing to advise his tenants, to help protect his livelihood. How could a landlord not care about the state of his land?
Several servants rushed toward him and gathered the reins in their hands. One knelt down so Ryder could use the man’s back as a step.
“Hey, don’t do that,” Ryder said. “It’s not necessary.”
He jumped down, narrowly avoiding the man.
“Master Caindale,” the man said, “is our lord expecting thee?”
They thought he was Remy Caindale. So much the better. This might be easier than he had expected.
“No, it’s a big surprise. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll find him myself. I know my way around.”
He entered the manor house and, mercifully, left the blazing sunlight outside. The inside of the castle was cool and dark and surprisingly familiar. Ryder took a few moments to let his eyes adjust. A tall woman entered the room. Her face held classical patrician lines that implied nobility and breeding. Dark curling hair reached to her waist. She came toward him, and he took a step backwards. He recognized her. In fact, he recognized her from a couple of places, but she was a little younger here, and very pretty.
“Cullen?”
“Indeed,” the woman said. “Do we know one another? Thou art familiar.”
“Yes. Well, no, maybe not. Not yet. I’m a Caindale.”
“Aye, Remy Caindale. Thy estate lieth several days journey from Cardew. Thou hast sisters. The witches. Many hath sought thy sisters for favors. I am Lord Cardew’s wife. Dost thou have a need to meet with my husband?”
Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 37
