The woman had kilts on the brain. Emma resisted the impulse to tell her that. Obviously, all the males running around in their tartans on the Royal Mile only whetted her appetite.
Wonder if she got see what they wear under their kilts? Shit. My mind has joined Mildred’s in the gutter.
“Miss.”
Emma turned to face the front of the little shuttle bus to see what incomprehensible question Angus had for her. “Yes?”
His five minutes of gibberish and the distressed look on his face left her to wonder if the world had come to an end. She stared at him, dumbfounded.
He may as well speak Chinese instead of what he thinks passes for English.
Casting a glance in Barb’s direction, Emma prayed the old crab could translate, since she seemed to be the only one in the group who understood most of the man’s garbled efforts to communicate. “Do you have any idea what he said?”
“Yeah, seems there’s a problem with the bus. The engine is broken.”
Chapter Five
Restlessness worked at Ian like a child picking a scab. Unable to sit still, he paced around his office, picked up various knick-knacks, and set them back in the places they’d occupied for as long as he could remember.
The space he now called his had belonged to his father, and Annarr had let Shaylee have her way with the décor of the house and this room, just as he allowed her to have her way in most things. When his parents decided to return to the faerie realm to live, the only thing Ian did to change the house was put his stamp on this room. His desk now sat close to the window, which allowed him to look out and gaze at the moors. This arrangement better accommodated his work-style.
His computer now occupied the place on the desk where his father had kept an old typewriter for the letters Annarr had written to seek help from the government for some poor hapless soul who needed more aid than the older immortal could render.
Ian paused and listened again to the wind. Yes, something definitely brewed in the air, and it would affect his world as he knew it now. That much he’d been able to determine today, but the who or what still evaded him. He had to stop allowing these things to distract him from his work. Whatever was meant to happen would happen, and he’d deal with it then.
“Ian.”
Morgana sat on the corner of his desk. Of course, she chose the pages of his current manuscript to use as her chair. “Morgana, get your little arse off my papers. How many times must I remind you not to sit on the desk?”
A pout on her small mouth gave her more the appearance of a petulant child than a several-hundred-year-old faerie. “Do not be mean. I have come to cheer you up.” She floated across to Ian and took his hand. “You know how much I love you.”
“And I love you too. You’re the closest thing I have to a sister.” She’d been a part of his life since early memories, and the cause of most of the mischief he got into as a young boy. He leaned over and kissed the top of the dark head. “But older sister or not, you can’t mess up my work.”
She jerked away from his touch and glared at him. Her dark eyes glittered with anger. “Sister!” She spat on the floor at this feet. “How many times must I tell you, what I feel for you is not sisterly? We are meant to be together.”
Ian put a hand to his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Today was not a good day for Morgana to act foolishly. He had no patience for it. “Don’t start that nonsense again, please.” They’d battled over this issue of what she considered her love for him since Helmond pointed out her crush and Ian decided to set the record straight. The argument grew weary on a good day, let alone one when he had important matters on his mind.
“Nonsense is what you do here at this ‘thing.’” Morgana pointed at the computer screen. “Nonsense is what the humans think the stories you create are. They buy the books then laugh and make fun of our people’s history.” Her dark eyes flashed dangerously. “Now, you belittle my love and call it nonsense.” She kicked at a chair and bent back the tip of her pointy pink shoe. “See what you made me do?”
Ian winced as the pitch of her voice escalated. Morgana’s tantrums were famous throughout the Realm.
“I wonder what those fools who pant for the release of your next great work would think if they knew the truth? Cross me, and I may enlighten them.”
When she folded her arms and continued to rant, Ian shook his head. How someone so small could spew so much venom amazed him as it always did when Morgana threw a tantrum. Fortunately, the Fates had blessed him not to be on the receiving end of one, until now.
“Do you know what your problem is, Ian of god and Fae blood? You have been too long in the human world. You talk like them and think like them. Plus, the time you spend in bed with mortal females should be reserved for your own kind. Be forewarned, my prince, I will never let you marry one of those women.” She shook her fist in the air. “What will they say if I tell them who you really are? You are mine. Do you hear me? Mine!”
Ian was shocked at her outburst and breathed a sigh of relief when Morgana disappeared in a huff. The necessity to chastise his friend over her temper evaporated with her. Her threat to disclose his true identity to the mortal world didn’t bother him. Difficult as the little faerie could be at times, she was smart enough to know a betrayal of that magnitude would result in an appearance before the King. Oberon would ban her from The Realm for such treachery.
Why couldn’t magical beings and messages on the wind leave him in peace?
“What do you mean it doesn’t work?” At least that’s what she thought Angus said, but Emma couldn’t be positive. The bus wasn’t moving and rain splattered against the windows as the massive man shrugged his shoulders in response to her question.
“I think he said we’re broke down?” Barb said.
Emma took a few deep breaths to gain back the control that had slipped away in the chaos. If she didn’t, she’d use the closed book clutched in her hands as a weapon on the man’s head.
After all, mechanical problems aren’t his fault. But his inability to give a clear picture sure is frustrating me.
“Okay. So we’ve broken down. I’ll use my cell phone to call a mechanic or tow truck, and then we can be on our way. If we do need to be towed, I’ll find us rooms in the village. Where are we, Angus?”
Her question received another burst of incoherent mumbles and shrugs of his massive shoulders. The driver scratched his full grey beard and moved his hands up to pull on his mustache, finally shrugging again.
“I think he said we’re lost.” Barb translated and did a shoulder shrug of her own.
“Lost! How long have we been lost?” Emma’s shriek sounded shrewish to her own ears. What must the others have thought?
Think, girl, think. You have your phone and this is a fairly new bus. Maybe it has a GPS tracking system. If she got in touch with the bus company, someone would be able to determine where they were and send help.
“Angus, does this vehicle have a GPS system?”
He scratched his head and frowned. “A what?”
In an attempt to avoid another incoherent tirade, Emma cut him off when he opened his mouth again. “Never mind.” She’d just call the bus company and let them earn their fee for the outrageous rental charges.
She placed the book back into her bag, pulled her cell phone from the outside pocket, and flipped it open. Great. No signal. Life just kept getting better. She peered out into the dreary afternoon light and saw what appeared to be a driveway. Well, her badge did read Tour Director, and it was her job to find a phone to get help.
“Ladies, we’re in an area where there’s no cell phone service.”
This statement generated much grumbling and shaking of heads as anxious looks shot back and forth among several agitated passengers.
“It’s okay. I see a driveway up ahead, so I need to walk over to the house and ask to use their phone. All of you stay here on the bus and keep the door closed. Angus will stay with you.” Better to leave the la
rge man with her passengers to make them feel more secure than have him mumbling along beside her anyway.
“Do you want one of us to go with you, dearie?”
“No thanks, Mary. I’d feel much better if you all stayed here where you’ll be warm and dry. This weather is only fit for ducks and fools.”
A loud clap of thunder caused everyone to jump and look out the window. From the expressions on their faces, she didn’t have to worry about another volunteer.
“Maybe you should wait awhile and let the storm pass.” Deena suggested when a streak of lightning lit up the sky.
“You’re probably right, Deena, but it’s already late, and I’d rather search for this house before it gets dark.” She rummaged through her carryon for the umbrella she always carried. Like everything she needed, it lay at the bottom of her bag. Emma stood on the last step of the bus at the door and opened her protection against what now was a steady downpour.
She plastered a smile on her face for the benefit of the group and turned back to the concerned women. “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t worry.”
Emma stepped off the bus as a bolt of lightning clipped the top of a tree at the corner of the driveway that was her destination. She was startled when her foot landed in a puddle of water that came up to her ankle. Oh, well, probably more than her feet would be wet by the time she made it to the house the way the wind blew the rain sideways.
Emma’s calves burned more than they ever had on the gym treadmill as she trudged up the steep incline. The backs of her legs screamed with fiery resistance, and she gasped to inhale air.
Damn, how steep is this drive?
She paused to catch her breath, and a gust of wind blew the umbrella inside out. Wet hair plastered to her face and neck. Her clothes molded against her body and left no doubts of her full figure. Not having any real idea what the fashion trend was for this season, she hoped the drowned rat look was in. If so, she might get the person on the other side of the door to open it out of pity if—and that was a big if—she ever found the house. These people didn’t appear to want to be found by anyone, especially someone on foot.
Onward and upward she trudged, determined to succeed in her journey. The downpour changed to a drizzle and then to a heavy mist. She peered through the dense fog and saw what might be the outline of a building. One could hope! Excitement flowed through her, giving her the spurt of energy she needed to move forward. More of the structure came into view, and soon a ghostly outline of what appeared to be a castle loomed before her.
Holy frigging mother lode! How did I end up at Disneyland?
Cinderella’s castle floated before her, the background shrouded in a misty fog. It had taken major back-breaking effort on the part of a lot of people to build this place in such a god forsaken location.
Emma had a strong admiration for what was involved in construction of historical places like the Great Wall, the Pyramids, Stonehenge, and other wonders accomplished by ancient civilizations without the aid of modern technology. This placed ranked right up there, given its enormous size and out of the way location. From the appearance of the huge stone building in front of her, ancient described it too.
Hmm, wonder if Prince Charming lives here? Just what I need. To meet the man of my dreams when I look like something the cat dragged in.
A squish from her shoes pulled her eyes downward. “Damn, I just bought these.” Comfortable shoes were critical to a tour director with all the foot miles conducting walking tours, and now the sturdy black shoes were destined for the trash. Soaked and caked with mud, they were beyond salvage. She’d have to make do with her alternate pair until they got to a major city with a good shoe store.
“Just one more thing to add to my list of a perfect day,” she grumbled as she huffed and puffed her way up the last part of yet another incline.
Approaching the vision of angles and turrets, she paused and viewed the steps that led upward. Not only did she have to be a mountain goat to make it up the driveway, she now had to climb more steps than the Capital Building in Denver had. A loud groan escaped, but determined, she put her foot on the smooth granite. A game of count the steps crossed her mind, but she quickly nixed that idea. As tired as her legs were, she’d never make it to the top if she focused on how many steps she had to tread.
The sky opened up again as she almost reached the top step. “Great. Fucking great!” Emma set her foot down on a thin layer of water and skidded, throwing herself off balance. Unable to grab anything to break her fall, she bounced down several blocks of granite and hit her head on the edge of a step. Stars exploded in front of her eyes before her world went black.
Chapter Six
“Sire, it appears we have a female lying at the bottom of the front steps.”
“What?” Ian whirled his chair around from the computer screen and stared at his butler. Was the elf up to one of his tricks? He was proper to the point of boring most days, but occasionally a side of Helmond surfaced in the form of a jokester on some unsuspecting soul. Ian narrowed his eyes. “Is this one of your attempts to liven things up around here?”
Helmond’s body went rigid and his voice assumed a hoity tone. “I assure you, Sire, this is not meant to be humorous. Come see for yourself.” He turned as smartly as any parade soldier and headed for the door.
The old guy’s poker face had given nothing away. In fact, if anything, he seemed insulted by Ian’s insinuation that the announcement was an attempt to pull his leg. Why did things happen when he had at long last hit a creative spurt? The words flowed easily today, and he resented the interruptions. This had better not be a joke or he’d have the little man’s hide.
Helmond already held the door open as Ian approached. A blast of wind and rain slapped him in the face while he looked over the butler’s shoulder. There did appear to be a body at the bottom of the steps. How strange.
He stepped around the old elf and left him to hold the door as he ran down the steps to the listless form. Rain-soaked clothes were plastered to her body and left no doubt it was a woman—a very well developed woman.
Ian’s fingers itched to stroke the full lips and trail down to the curve of her full breasts. He pushed the thoughts away and knelt beside her, lifted a wrist, and placed a finger on her pulse point. Light, but steady. That was a good sign. He closed his eyes and held his hands over her body, allowing his senses to determine the extent of any damage. A slight concussion where she hit her head appeared to be the only real area of concern. No surprise, she was on the verge of hyperthermia. He had no idea how long she’d lain here.
He placed his hands over the knot on her head and allowed energy in the form of warm light to radiate to the spot. The swelling receded, and his hands heated while the crack in her skull mended. She’d have a headache when she came around, but that would be the worst of the damage.
He lifted the limp female in his arms and carried her up the steps where Helmond held the door open. He’d find out the who and why when she came to. Right now, the important things were to get her out of the wet clothes and get her warm. A wave of sudden passion swept through him when he held the woman’s body closer against him. His cock twitched against his thigh, and then hardened, tenting his kilt.
What in bloody hell? That’s never happened to me before.
He looked down at the still face, and another surge of heat ripped through him. The woman in his arms did nothing to entice him. She was unconscious, and he had to be barmy…totally mad. Neither thought prevented an erection equal to any he’d had during his hormone-ridden adolescent years. Ian focused his mind on climbing the steps, one at a time, in an attempt to quell his lust.
“Turn down the covers on the bed in the room next to mine and bring me some wrapped hot stones,” he instructed his butler. He’d get her undressed and under the covers. The stones at her feet would eliminate the chill.
Ian stripped Emma down to her matching bra and panties, and discovered a female more voluptuous than he originally thought
. He could understand why artists loved to paint a woman with curves instead of angles. The bit of wet lace she probably considered underwear resisted his attempt to remove it. Finally, he managed to get it down her legs and over her feet and then turned his focus to the lacy bra. Thankfully, the hook allowed its easy removal, and her lush breasts spilled free.
Ian stood and admired the nude body stretched against the white sheets. The patch of hair between her thighs was the same deep red as on her head. He should be ashamed for blatantly staring, but he made no effort to pull up the covers until he heard the approach of footsteps. Instead, he’d watched the rise and fall of her full breasts, while resisting the urge to cup one to see if they were as soft as they looked.
The passion that had subsided now returned anew his cock so hard, it hurt. Granted, it had been a while since he’d had a woman, but he wasn’t a teenager with raging hormones any longer. By the gods, it appeared his paternal genes were no longer dormant.
His grandfather couldn’t keep his pants up, and his grandmother couldn’t keep her dress down. The throb of his erection confirmed he’d inherited more from his father’s family than he wanted to admit. Just what he didn’t need—out of control sexual urges.
“Sire, the hot stones you requested.”
Helmond carried a basket filled with the towel-covered rocks, which Ian took from the little man. Grateful for the interruption, Ian pulled the covers loose from the bottom of the bed and placed the warmth around his patient’s feet.
“Have the cook prepare a hot broth for our guest, Helmond. I’m sure when she awakens she will still feel chilled.”
“Certainly, Sire. And what shall I do about the vehicle a short distance from the entrance to our driveway?”
Ian shot a look in the butler’s direction. “By the gods, what on earth are you rambling about now?”
Beyond Magic (Magical Love Book 1) Page 6
