by Blake, Laila
Maeve’s voice faltered and she fell silent. The snow stung Moira’s cheeks and she felt sad and shaky again.
“Sounds like … like you’re lonely.” It just bubbled out of Moira, who immediately flushed, wondering if she had crossed a line that hadn’t been hers to cross. When Maeve didn’t answer for a long time, she felt sure of it, swallowing hard and trying not to think of the fact that she was sitting so close to her, that every movement of the horse was brushing their bodies against each other.
“I’m sorry … ” she tried, but Maeve shook her head, uttering a short dismissive sound.
“Some things are more important,” she said quietly, “You’ll see. You’re leaving your life for him, aren’t you? I know that Brock offered you a chance.”
This time, it was Moira’s turn to sink into silence, thinking about the truth in that statement. Without Owain, she would have accepted Fairester, would have accepted Brock’s offer, too. Without Owain, she wouldn’t have known there was any other choice to make.
“You loved someone,” she said quietly and Maeve offered only a quiet hum in return. The feeling of the forest was stronger now and the next moment, the snow stopped falling so heavily as they rode under a canopy of trees. Maeve seemed to know where to go even though Moira kept turning around, looking for Owain.
“He is over there,” Maeve finally said, pointing forward. Moira stretched herself to look over her mother’s shoulder and there did seem to be a small light in the distance. She didn’t realize she exhaled a sigh of relief until Maeve chuckled.
• • •
The light turned out to be a very small fire. Owain was standing at the edge of the illuminated area. His face, too, showed obvious relief when he came closer and offered his hands to lift Moira off the horse. He gave her a strange smile and then looked up at Maeve who was finding her own rather more graceful way off the animal.
“Can I have my girl back now?” he asked, a careful smile on his face.
Moira looked down at her still-wrinkled hands and brought them to her face. It wasn’t hers and she remembered with a sheepish look. His girl. She was his Momo and she understood now, she understood that she’d had a choice and she had made it.
“Come here, child,” Maeve replied and gently placed her glowing palm on Moira’s face again until Moira could feel that golden light spread through her veins, warm and tingling and powerful. When she opened her eyes again, a little short of breath, she beamed at the man who pulled her into his arms and led them toward the fire.
“How long have you been here?” Moira asked, seeing the low soldier’s tent on the ground and the fire burning merrily.
“Blaidyn are fast,” Maeve remarked, eying the man. She had gone out to try and find someone who would protect her daughter; but her daughter had found him all by herself.
“Not so long,” he assured them both, pulling Moira onto a log next to him and wrapping his arms around her. They were both wet and smelled like snow but the fire felt good on her frozen hands.
“I thought you could catch a few hours of sleep before we head out in the morning.” Owain said, seeing her look at the tent. He knew she wasn’t used to sleeping anywhere but a richly stuffed bed and there was a hint of shame in offering the old sleeping place of a soldier. But it was almost washed away when she smiled at him, wide and sweet and he pressed his lips against her hair and her scalp and breathed her in. She was his beautiful girl and he would keep her safe, would keep her warm; even in an old grimy tent if he had to.
“Where will we go?” Moira asked then, looking from Owain to her mother. Both of them eyed her as though the answer was hers, but Maeve just raised her brows and carefully plucked a snowflake from her hair, watching it melt on her fingers.
“You will go where it is safe for you to go. Stay outside larger cities for a while, until some grass has grown over everything.”
“Aren’t you … coming with us?” Moira couldn’t help but utter, once again feeling foolish. She still didn’t know how she felt about her mother but she thought she had much to learn from her. And about her.
“I would like to … I really would, Moira.” Maeve answered. The trace of sadness was all too apparent when she stared into the flames before she could face her daughter again. “They have ways of tracking me. They know about me; but they don’t know about you. Being with you would put you in danger … and we have created enough of a magical stir. You are safer alone — a young couple, innocent enough.”
Bracing a smile, Maeve reached over, tentatively touching her daughter’s hand. “I will find you again, I promise. We just have to be careful.”
With that, she stood up and brushed the heavy fur cape she was still wearing from the soldier’s uniform off her shoulders and laid it down over the log next to Moira.
“Keep the horse, too.”
“How will you travel?” Moira asked, worried. The flutter of feeling surprised her and she immediately looked down at her hands.
“Don’t worry about me,” Maeve replied with a wicked little smile. Suddenly, she looked nothing like a mother, more like a young girl. “I have other ways.” And before Moira could utter another word, she had turned around, and ran. As she accelerated, there was a moment, when her feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. Moira had to blink, and when her eyes opened again, a robin was flying up into the treetops and away out of the forest.
Gasping once, Moira pressed herself closer against Owain, still staring into the darkness as though she couldn’t trust her eyes. For a moment, the glowing little bird had looked so real, and now the forest was silent and empty.
• • •
“Are you all right?” Owain asked, after a long moment of holding her.
She looked up at him and nodded. A deep breath made her chest heave and sink and finally, she tipped her head up to brush her nose under his chin. He smiled.
“Are you hungry?” he asked again. This time, Moira shook her head, her smile taking a stronger hold on her face.
“All right, beautiful Momo. What do you want?”
“Mmm,” she murmured, nuzzling against his neck. “You. Just you. Wherever we go. Whatever we do.”
“Easy,” Owain agreed in his own quiet murmur as he pulled her into the tent with him. Their legs intertwined and he piled a blanket and her mother’s coat over them, helping him to keep her warm.
“Are you scared?” he asked finally. Only the barest hint of the fire’s glow reached her face, sweet and freckled and smiling.
“No.” She answered and leaned up to kiss him. “For the first time in my life. No.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dear Father,
I call you thus, because I know no other word for you than Father. My Father. You have been my Father for all the days of my life, all the ones I remember. And I love you like any child loves the man who has held her when she hurt her knee or tried to console her when she was sad.
But I am not your daughter. And since I’ve learned this, I know I can’t face you anymore. I love you so much and I know I was a disappointment to you in many ways. More than anything now, I wish I wasn’t so difficult for you. But you were kind and good. You were a good father to me and you will be a good father again, believe me.
I am leaving you, knowing that I owe you more than I can ever repay. One day, I will try, but for now I need to know who I am and where I come from. I need to find a life that is mine.
Please don’t despise me, Father. I have tried, I know that was never enough, but I have. I will always think of you fondly. Please know this, if nothing else.
In my heart, always your daughter,
Moira
About the Author
Laila Blake is a young writer from Cologne, Germany. After studying Multi-lingual Communication and Specialized Translating, she went into
teaching English to adults but has never quite given up on her lofty dreams of writing. By the Light of the Moon is her first novel.
She writes romance, erotica and young adult fiction and her erotic short stories will be published in several anthologies throughout 2013. For more information on her person or her other publications as well as updates on the sequel to this novel, please visit her website;
www.lailablake.com.
For information on the Lakeside Series and its sequels as well as bonus materials and information on the different characters and the country of Lynne, please visit;
www.lakeside-series.com.
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
(From Covet by Terri Herman-Poncé)
I’m not a guy who plays games but right now I felt like a knight on a chessboard. Moving strategically but unable to set up for checkmate. It wasn’t that my patterns were ineffective. It was that fate had decided to throw an extra playing piece on the board.
“She’s going to make a move,” Galen said.
I’d seen the woman he was referring to from the corner of my eye, watching me. The problem was, she wasn’t my target. I downed my beer and ordered another from the bartender. He was juggling two martinis, some pink girly drink, and a white wine while someone at the other end of the bar whined about being cut off. I momentarily wondered if life as a bartender might be a lot simpler and immediately dismissed the thought. I thrived on excitement. That’s why I was here, senses alert, adrenalin pumping, on the edge. Ready. And if it got dangerous … well, I was ready for that, too.
“I’m telling you, Bellotti,” Galen said. “She’s interested. More than interested.”
This was going to be a problem. I took the fresh draft from the bartender, slid him a bunch of Euros, and watched the woman through the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Not bad but I wasn’t interested. I’d already committed to the best. Back home.
“Concentrate on the op,” I said, lowering my voice.
The music pounded in the adjoining, jammed dance floor. People boozed it up and snorted stuff I didn’t want to know about in dark corners of Istanbul’s hottest nightclub.
I buried myself in my beer, keeping true to my cover. “We have a job to do,” I told Galen. “No distractions.”
We were to surveil a local drug dealer, Zev Sahin. Local for Turkey. Not local for Galen and me. I looked the Italian-American tourist, but Galen — a native Australian — somehow inherited Middle Eastern features. That made moving around the country a little easier. The nightclub was top-grade and the food and drink were covered by PROs, the professional military corporation we worked for, and if everything went as planned, in two days the op would be a wrap and I’d be vacationing back home with the love of my life.
Loud laughter broke out at a nearby table and I used the pulsating lights that illuminated the dance floor to scan the nightclub again. I watched the dealer, careful not to draw attention to myself. He sat on a sofa set back in a dark corner, surrounded by women, beefy bodyguards, and empty bottles of Cristal. And I waited for the lynch pin — the person who was going to set the wheels in motion for the night.
“She’s playing with her hair and she’s staring at you, Bellotti. I think she’s going to make a move soon.”
“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll do it for you,” I told Galen.
“I’m just waiting for the fireworks.” Galen laughed as he picked up his glass. “What line are you going to use this time? You have an arsenal that always seems to piss off women.”
“I don’t piss them off,” I said. “They just aren’t used to honesty. Which doesn’t say a whole lot for relationships or dating these days, does it?”
Galen shrugged. “I think you’re jaded. You walk in with attitude and Armani, turn heads, and then moan about the unwanted attention you get.”
I studied the two of us in the mirror, both in designer clothes, both trying to blend in with the upscale crowd. Only Galen didn’t have the harshness on his face that I did. People probably looked at me tonight and saw someone who wanted to break a face. In reality, it was exhaustion. I really needed that damned vacation.
“You’re making too big a deal out of this,” I said.
I was going to say more but stopped when I saw our lynch pin walk into the club. She positioned herself near a granite column off to the side of the dance floor, all long legs, blonde hair, and killer body in a tight blue dress.
Lady in Blue slinked through the crowd, every man’s head turning as she moved. Galen stilled and said, “Wow.”
“We’re a go,” I said, setting down the beer. I glanced at Sahin once more through the mirror’s reflection.
“Do you think this will work?” Galen asked.
“It has to. If we’re to get into Zev Sahin’s compound and warehouse, we need that keycard he keeps in his wallet. His weak spot for women will get us that card.”
“Poor damned SOB has no idea what’s coming,” Galen said as Lady in Blue moved in. Then he sighed, had a little more of the vodka he’d been nursing, and shrugged it off. “You realize that this will be the easy part compared to getting him to turn.”
“That’s not our problem,” I reminded him, staring him down. Galen knew it was all about the rest of our team, the DEA, and the U.S. Government. All we had to do was get the card after the wallet was lifted and make the drop, and then the rest of our guys would get into the warehouse and take it down. After that, we stepped out of the picture.
And my vacation with Lottie began. With brisk walks on the beach, huddling in a warm blanket, and relaxing with a bottle of red. I shook my head. Who the hell was I kidding? I intended to keep Lottie in bed for a whole week.
“Do you think it will be that easy?” Galen asked.
I grinned, knowing Lottie wanted that week in bed, too. “Damned straight.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I realized Galen was talking about the op and that I’d let my mind wander. Not good. In this business, distraction led to death.
“She’s moving in, Bellotti,” Galen said.
Lady in Blue strode toward Sahin, bending over to adjust the strap on her high-heeled shoe, giving him enough bare leg and bare breast to catch his attention. It worked. Sahin smiled at her and beckoned her over with a bottle of Cristal. She cocked her head, giving him just enough coy to reel him in.
A warm body brushed against my arm. I ignored it, watching the way Lady in Blue moved and keeping Sahin just inside my field of vision. A hand settled on my bicep and squeezed. It was the woman who had been trying to get my interest.
“Hi,” she said, a smile on her face and in her voice.
“Hi,” I said, not smiling at all.
“My name is Yvette.” She was decked out in red hair and red dress, and was now officially baggage. “Mind if I join you?” She pulled up a spare barstool between Galen and me.
Past Yvette, Lady in Blue nuzzled onto Sahin’s lap. Sahin snagged a waitress, said something to her, and stuffed a wad of Euros down her cleavage. She strutted away, happy with the fat tip.
Yvette snuggled onto the barstool, blocking my view.
“Yvette,” I said firmly, “I’m not looking for company.”
“Oh.” She seemed put off at first but quickly recovered. I got the feeling I’d just become a challenge and she leaned in closer. C-cups, pressed hard against my arm.
That gave me a clear view of the action again. Lady in Blue slipped her arms around Sahin, slid off his jacket, and ran her hands over his chest and stomach. Good. All she had to do next was distract him the way only a woman like her could, snatch the wallet, and pretend to break outside for a smoke, where I’d meet her to make the exchange.
“You’re the hottest guy in here,” Yvette said, leaning in and giving me a clear view of a nicely filled red and black
bra. “You alone?”
Galen tapped the bar to get my attention and flicked his eyes to a position behind him. His six o’clock.
My gaze slid past Yvette’s other shoulder. Another woman, dressed in a black pantsuit, stood at the entrance to the dance floor where Lady in Blue had been earlier. Only this woman’s body language said she was ready to kill, and I immediately knew who the victim would be.
It was Sahin’s wife. I looked back at Yvette. “I saw you making the moves on that Navy guy over there,” and I jerked my head to where he sat with a bunch of his friends.
She looked at him then looked back at me. “I’m not interested in him.”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “But I am.”
Yvette’s mouth opened and stayed that way.
“Should we move in?” Galen asked.
Yvette shoved away, probably thinking Galen was talking about the Navy guy.
I watched Sahin’s wife weave through the crowd to her husband, whose head was buried in Lady in Blue’s breasts. One of his bodyguards saw the wife coming and tapped Sahin’s shoulder. Sahin ignored him.
Sahin’s wife stood, hands on hips, staring down at her husband. Then, without warning, she picked up a bottle of Cristal and slammed it on the table and started screaming. She took another and smashed it on the floor, then another. The loud pops startled the crowd, someone yelled “she’s got a gun!” and the place went berserk. People scrambled to get out, shoving off the dance floor, jamming into the doorways, and screaming for safety. Bouncers pushed against the tide of patrons, yelling for them to calm down, and rounding them up like cattle.
Sahin barked at his wife in Turkish. His wife lunged for Lady in Blue and swung at her with another bottle. Lady in Blue dodged the attack, a foot slid out from under her, and she went down, her head clipping the coffee table. She didn’t move.
“Watch my back,” I told Galen.
“I’ll go after Blue,” he said. “You get that wallet.”
I nodded and took off.
