by Ann Gimpel
“We willna know until we get to Ireland.” His mind voice sounded shaken.
Aislinn wanted to ask what the worst part of it was for him, but thought she knew. The Lemurians had sneaked up on them. They had to have been right on the other side of the gateway, or already in the basement, when she and Fionn and the others were in the kitchen trading pleasantries. The thought rattled her confidence. There was no way they could ever win this war…
Will we ever have a world where we can stop looking over one shoulder all the time?
“Probably not, lass.”
For once, she didn’t chide him for being inside her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Aislinn peered through a portal onto endless greenery, thick with grass and trees. She smelled salt water.
“Go on through. ’Tis safe enough.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I canna sense aught amiss. My manor and the lands adjacent are strongly warded.”
She wanted to shriek at him that he hadn’t sensed aught amiss back in Marta’s kitchen either, but bit her tongue. She took a cautious step forward and then another.
Rune padded to her side. He nuzzled her hand. “Good hunting here. I smell game.”
He has a positive attitude. Maybe I could work on mine. She took a deep breath and inhaled the richness of damp earth and growing things. Unlike Utah and the eastern part of Nevada, which were deserts, Northern Ireland was a maritime environment. The air felt positively soggy, but it was fragrant and sweet. She turned in a circle. At about the halfway point, she stopped dead, gasped, and then clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Do ye like it?” Fionn’s smile lit his entire face.
Aislinn gaped. “You didn’t tell me you lived in a castle. Holy Christ, it even has turrets.”
“It has a moat, too, but ’tis only for show. Magic is far more effective for controlling intruders.”
“Is there still water in it?”
“Aye, but only because I like watching the ducks and swans that have made it their home. The gate still has a portcullis, but ’tis been years since it was deployed. Ye canna quite see it from where ye’re standing.”
Gray stone walls rose before her. They circled a central structure set on higher ground. She walked closer and examined the wall. Large blocks fit together with little mortar between them. Weeds battled ivy for ascendency; both grew several feet up the walls. She turned to meet Fionn’s gaze. “Um, just what year did you move in here?”
“I had it built to my specifications.”
“Yes, but when was that?”
He cocked his head to one side and drew his brows together. “Early fifteen hundreds. I included many innovations that were well ahead of the times.” Fionn’s voice rang with an understated pride.
Aislinn stopped listening after fifteen hundreds. Oh, stop it. I knew how old he was. It’s just that seeing something like this really hammers it home.
“Doona fash. The whole of the inside has been modernized. Not that I have electricity anymore, but there is running water from a spring, not unlike the one at Marta’s house. The walls are thick enough to hold warmth from the fireplaces, and there’s one in every room. I installed solar panels, so there’s still hot water when the sun is out. Unfortunately, the storage batteries need an occasional boost from electricity to operate, since there are long periods here when ye doona see the sun.” He turned his hands palms upward. “Electricity may be a thing of the past, but magic fills the void nicely.”
Rune headbutted her. “This architectural discussion is fascinating, but Bella and I want to go exploring.”
Aislinn glanced at Fionn. “What do you think?”
Fionn extended an arm in front of him. Bella hopped onto it from her perch on his shoulder. He tapped the bird’s beak with a finger. “Doona be gone long. And doona go beyond the estate boundaries.”
“But I like to troll for fish along the beach.”
“I know ye do, but not right now. Unless things go to hell, I’ll escort you there around sunset.”
“Agreed. The fishing is best then anyway.” Bella overflew the wolf, and he loped after her.
“Come back immediately if you sense anything at all wrong,” Aislinn called after them, but neither answered. She tried to bring the geography of Ireland front and center. “Are we on that peninsula at the north end of County Donegal that juts into the Atlantic with a couple of loughs to the east and west?”
“Exactly. I have maps inside. Speaking of which, if ye’re done staring at the walls, would ye like to see your new home?”
He took her arm and guided her around a curve in the walls to the central gate. She craned her head back and took in the portcullis he’d mentioned earlier. Its wooden staves disappeared far above her.
Fionn barked a command. She felt a surge of magic and realized he’d undone warding set to protect his gates, which swung open. A stone walkway spanned the moat and led to a grassy hillock dotted with wildflowers in front of broad steps rising to the front door of the manor. Assorted outbuildings sat off to both sides. Ducks paddled contentedly. Several pairs of swans swam close.
“What?” Aislinn looked askance at Fionn and walked closer to the birds. “Don’t tell me you feed them…”
He shrugged. “Of course. ’Tis better than wasting food.”
“Great. I have a spoiled wolf, and you have spoiled birds. I can hardly wait until we have actual children.”
He came up behind her and swung her to face him. “Do ye really mean it, lass? Have ye changed your mind?”
Tear stung behind her eyes. “Yes, but not now. Not until it looks as if our children will have both parents to dote on them and spoil them beyond measure.”
He drew her close and folded her into an embrace. He didn’t try to talk, which probably meant he was just as overcome by emotion as she was. The thud of his heart beneath her ear was comforting. Without warning, he moved an arm between their bodies, swung it beneath her knees, and swept her into his arms, rucksack and all.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you across the threshold. Ye will be my bride. ’Tis simply a matter of getting Gwydion to recite our vows.”
She squirmed in his arms. “I know you asked my father’s permission. Were you going to get around to asking me to marry you?”
Fionn’s eyes crinkled with merriment at their corners, and his gaze locked with hers. “I couldna imagine ye saying no, lass, but would ye do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Happiness shot through her. She twined both arms around his neck and covered his mouth with hers.
He furled a brow once they came up for air. “I take it that’s a yes.”
“Yes,” she exclaimed. “As soon as we can. Where’s Gwydion?”
“Assuming he escaped Nevada safely, he’s likely making certain his own home and lands havena been compromised.” Fionn bent his head and kissed her again.
Aislinn’s blood heated. Fionn’s body and hands and scent drove her libido mercilessly. She couldn’t get enough of him, no matter how many times they made love. She broke the kiss before she hopped out of his arms, pushed him down on the grass, and jumped him. “We need to get hold of Gwydion. Soon. Before you change your mind.”
“Aye, lass. That we will. There’s a chapel within his manor that would be perfect. Doona fash. I’ll not be changing my mind.” He rolled out from under her, got to his feet, and pulled her against him. Scooping her into his arms again, he walked briskly toward the house.
Thank Christ he didn’t launch into an explanation of the MacLochlainn bond. She wriggled against him. “You really should put me down. It’s a long way from here to the front door. There are a bunch of stairs, and it’s awkward carrying me with my rucksack.”
“What? Ye doona think I’m strong enough to carry a slip of a thing like you a few hundred feet?”
Aislinn dissolved into giggles. No one had ever referred to her as a slip of a thing with her six foot height. �
�We have to be serious. What if there’s something bad inside lying in wait for us?”
“I would have felt it in my warding. Och, leannán.” He cradled her against him. “We’ll have little enough of joy in the coming days. Let us steal what happiness we can afore the darkness closes and we must fight for our verra existence. I love you, lass.”
“I love you, too.” She settled against his chest with her arms wound around his neck. It felt right to be clasped in Fionn’s arms. The rucksack’s shoulder straps dug into her collarbones, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable.
The stone walkway crossed the moat and then continued over unkempt grass. Wildflowers in every color of the rainbow ran rampant. The house was an enormous structure, with at least four floors, maybe five if she counted some of the tower rooms. Leaded glass windows peeked out from stone-inlaid balconies. Where the walls around the property were built from flat stones, the house had been constructed of roundish river rocks and enormous hand-hewn wooden logs. Boxes that had likely held flowers sat in front of many of the windows.
“Do flowers grow year round here?” she asked, eying the lawn.
“They do if you nuruture them with magic.” Fionn mounted broad flagstone steps. She counted twelve of them before they came out onto the portico before the massive front door. Made of heavily carved wood and reinforced with metal cross-staves, it was rounded on top. “I need to set you down afore I can open the door. Doona run away.” He placed her on her feet and kissed her forehead.
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She peered through stained glass side panels with sun and moon patterns, but couldn’t see much.
Fionn chanted to summon magic. Once he had command of the spell, it took long minutes before he reached for the latch and pushed the door open.
“You dismantled fairly extensive warding,” she murmured.
“Aye, and ’tis grateful I am it appears to have done its job.” He lifted her into his arms again and carried her inside. “There, leannán. I have done my part to ensure a good beginning.” Despite his words, he didn’t make any move to set her down.
Her eyes widened. Stretching before her was a great room, like something out of a medieval history book. An enormous fireplace took up most of one wall at the end of the room. Tapestries hung on the walls. Thick woven rugs covered the floors. Wooden furniture with plump, colorful cushions was arranged in conversational groups. Cut crystal lanterns sat on occasional tables. “My God. This room could hold a hundred people.”
“It has a time or two. I’m not much for entertaining, though.”
“Put me down so I can look at everything.”
“With pleasure. There ye go.” Fionn set her on her feet, unbuckled the waist belt of her rucksack, and slid it from her shoulders.
Aislinn eyed the dust-free tabletops. “Who cleans?”
Fionn tossed his head back and laughed. “Aye, but a lass would want to know such things. I use magic to accomplish most tasks. Since I am gone from here much of the time, or I was,” he corrected himself, “’twas either that, hire a stranger, or toss those abysmal dustcovers over everything.”
“Where do you spend your time when you’re here? This place is so huge. Surely you must have favorite rooms.” She held out a hand. He set her pack down and gripped her extended fingers, drawing her right up against him again.
“I have rooms on the third floor, toward the back. Nothing elaborate. A bedroom and a study. Those rooms and the kitchen are the only ones I really use.”
“I want to see.” She remembered his underground bunker in the heart of the northern Sierra Nevada Mountains. It had been surprisingly comfortable and well-appointed since he’d hogged it out from beneath a mountain. A mixture of shyness and curiosity ran through her. Fionn had quickly taken center stage in her life, yet she didn’t really know all that much about him. This is my opportunity to learn…
He tugged gently. “Come on, then. I want to share my life with you. All of it.”
“You’re in my head again.”
He snorted. “Best get used to it. I doona know if I can resist knowing what ye’re thinking. Particularly when ye get this little furrow.” He let go of her hand, traced a vertical line between her brows, and picked up her pack, draping it over one shoulder. “Follow me.” He mounted a staircase at the midpoint of the great room. It hugged the wall and kept going until it reached the far corner where it ended on a broad landing in front of a double door.
“Whoa. No railing.” She stumbled because the risers were unevenly spaced. “This bottom floor must have twenty-foot ceilings.”
“Careful.” He glanced over a shoulder at her. “Nay, they’re only eighteen. Still ’tis hard to heat.” He pointed at an elaborate ceiling fan. “That helped, but there’s naught to power it now. The upper floors are cozier.” He led her through the double doors and down a wide hall, spread with Oriental carpets, to a doorway that opened to another staircase.
Aislinn glanced up and down the hall before mounting the second set of stairs. Doors opened off both sides. “What are all these rooms?”
“Mostly bedrooms. Some meeting rooms. One is a sewing room. The garderobe started out on the main floor. I moved it to the second floor at some point and built a sewage system. Then I scrapped the whole thing when I installed modern plumbing.”
She ducked through the doorway and started up the stairs after him. “Did you do most of the work yourself?”
“Aye. Too many questions if I’d brought in outside workmen. The other Celts helped, just as I helped them.” He took her hand again and walked the length of another carpeted hall.
“Is there another floor above us?”
“Aye. Two in places. The manor has a basement, as well, though ’tis been long years since I’ve been down there.” He reached out and took hold of an old-fashioned pull latch. The wooden door creaked and moved inward. He gestured her inside.
Late afternoon sun flooded the corner suite with light from two opposing banks of leaded-glass windows. A double bed piled with a duvet and pillows sat off to one side. Two armoires lined the wall opposite. A matching dresser sat cattycorner. Bed stands with antique, hand-painted glass lamps were on each side of the bed. A half-open door led to a marble inlaid bathroom with a sunken tub. Drawn by the beautiful stonework, she walked through the door, called her mage light, and bent to run a finger over creamy tiles with red and green veins. “This is beautiful.”
“Italian marble. I doona think ye can find the like today.”
Aislinn straightened, doused her light, and strolled to a door at the far end of the bedroom. It opened onto a cozy study with a huge mahogany roll top desk. An organizer with pigeonholes for things sat off to one side. The room was lined with shelves that overflowed with books and scrolls. The study had a homey, masculine feel that spoke of comfort and shelter.
She ran her fingertips over some of the leather-bound volumes before returning to the bedroom. A third door, next to a brick fireplace, opened onto a balcony with a magnificent view of the ocean. She inhaled the salt air, reveling in its freshness.
Fionn came up behind her and wound his arms around her chest. “If ye doona like it, lass, we can change whatever ye want.”
Aislinn turned in his arms and gazed into his sea-blue eyes. “It’s beautiful. I don’t want to change a thing. Maybe we could drag a couple of chairs out here so we could sit and watch the sea.”
His lips curved into a tender smile; he drew her back inside and shut the door. “I was hoping ye’d say that. I havena brought a woman here for a verra long time. Mayhap not since the sixteen hundreds. Once I moved to the States, I’ve been fortunate to lay eyes on the place a few times a year.”
She overlooked his comment about other women. It didn’t matter. She’d had her share of men along the way. “I know you warded it, but how did you keep vandals out over such long periods of time?”
“’Twas easy. Likely ye know such a spell. I simply made the place invisible to anyone
passing by. ’Twouldn’t have fooled another with strong magic, but it worked well enough, all in all.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t have done something so complex. I can cast a don’t look here spell, but I need to be around to tend it. While we’re on the subject, it took me a lot to chink a hole in the wards you set in Marta’s house. I got some ideas while I was unweaving them. Maybe we could talk about the mixture of earth, air, and fire you used and how I could mimic it with the magic I have.”
“We could.” His hand cupped her rump. “Or we could retire to the bed and just never leave.”
She drew back, looked down, and eyed the front of his jeans. Reaching between them, she curved a hand around his erect cock. “Maybe food first? Not that I don’t want you.” She rolled her eyes. “I always want you. If I listened to my body, all we’d do is fuck.”
“Och aye, the voice of reason already. I hoped ye’d be so swept off your feet by desire—”
Aislinn squirmed out of his embrace and swatted him. “Food and a bath. That sunken tub looks like a hell of a playground.”
“Something to look forward to. I’ll hold you to it, lass. Would ye like to move to the kitchens? Ye can peruse the pantry, and I’ll teach you about the magic to construct a durable ward.”
“Heh. I’m not much of a cook. By that token, neither was Mother.” Aislinn thought about the delectable meals Fionn had made for them in his underground hobbit hole. “You’re much better at that sort of thing.”
“Pick what ye want from the pantry, and I’ll make it for us, then.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Her body had other ideas. It could care less about food. It wanted Fionn up close, personal, and buried to the hilt inside. She told her overheated libido to take a break.
He winked at her. “’Tis poor form to admit your shortcomings—about cooking and suchlike—afore the wedding, lass. Best wait and let the prospective groom find things like that out over time.”
“Really?” She winked back. “Seems like false advertising, otherwise. Besides, you’d find out quick enough that if I can’t chuck something into a pot of boiling water or roast it over a fire, I’m lost in the kitchen.”
