“So why aren’t you hiding?” Meagan was slowly coming to grips with the idea that race and political intrigue were going to be issues for the rest of her life.
She would always be a halfling, always be on the radar of the elven equivalent of the Ku Klux Klan. Life had been a whole lot simpler when she was just a flaky artist.
“Mainly because I choose not to.” The older woman tipped her head at the man standing directly behind her and he nodded briefly in response. “Hiding would be giving the bastards too much power over my life. I take precautions. Like you, I have bodyguards when needed. But my value as a target is reduced, since I have two grown children who would inherit Cynric’s seat on the council. I’m afraid your father was targeted in an attempt to seat one of Owain’s supporters in his place before he could produce an heir. I’ll wager Diarmud watched his mirror for days, waiting for the mark to appear. When it never did, it became apparent that somewhere in the worlds, you existed and the seat remained vacant till you were found.”
Meagan shook her head. “This all seems so surreal. There’s still a part of me that thinks somebody must have slipped something in my drink that night at the bar when I met Ric and that everything since has all been one long acid trip.”
Belinda reached out, the candlelight shooting sparks off the gems that dotted her soft white fingers. She took Meagan’s chilly fingers and squeezed them softly.
“You’ll be fine. And, yes, I know what an acid trip is. In order to stay current for my books, I do spend some time every year in the human realm. I’ve even grown addicted to a few television programs. One of my daughters is in New York at the moment. She TiVos episodes of Lost and saves them for when I visit.”
She shook her head and bit her lip as if debating whether or not to continue, but she tipped her chin and did. “But if by Ric, you mean Alaric the Bard, please remember that finding you was an assignment for him. He’s been the queen’s favorite agent for many, many years and quite openly her favorite sex toy, as well. And according to Cynric, the price Llyris demanded for failure was an extreme one. I’m afraid he has quite the reputation for breaking hearts.”
“Ah, Belinda the beauteous. Love you too, darling.”
Ric had slipped up beside Meagan without her noticing and he leaned over to take Belinda’s hand. He bowed over it and placed a kiss on the jeweled fingers, giving Meagan a rueful smile. “And the price was a steep one indeed. Fail to find the heiress and I’d be spending the next fifty years or so living out a miserable human existence.”
Belinda gasped, but Meagan only snorted as she took the goblet he held out to her. “Humans are not necessarily miserable.”
He released Belinda’s hand and captured Meagan’s, which he raised to his lips for an altogether different kind of kiss. Meagan fought to appear unaffected, even though the small of her back broke out in a sweat and her knees turned to rubber. Then Ric sighed and his expression turned serious. “No, I’m aware of that. But if I’d failed, Owain’s faction would be revoking the nonaggression treaty. And I’m afraid the mortal realm would have become an unpleasant place indeed.”
“That’s me. Meagan, warrior princess, savior of the universe.” She sipped the sparkling water with a happy sigh.
“All of which is more true than you’re willing to accept.” Ric’s face was still set in harsh lines, his voice dead serious. He nodded at Belinda. “And yes, it’s true I serve the queen. In whatever capacity she requires, whether I care for it or not.” His gaze softened as it returned to Meagan. “I told you I’m not a nice man.”
“It’s okay. I’m not as naïve as you think, Ric. I had figured a few things out on my own.” She hated the thought of Llyris touching him with those skinny fingers, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
“I believe I see my husband across the room.”
Belinda’s chuckle was barely audible. “And I’m clearly unnecessary here. We’ll talk sometime soon, Lady Rose. Stay safe.” She whirled away in a flurry of silken tissue.
“Well, it looks like you’ve made a friend.”
“Yeah, it was kind of nice to have someone not look at me like I was a two-headed poodle. She seems nice.”
“As far as I know, she is. And you will make friends here, Meagan, I promise. There are a lot of good people at court. There are also a lot of snakes. I’d trust Lady Willow to help you sort them out from each other. Making friends with her is a good start.”
“Cool. Now isn’t that the waltz you promised me?”
His smile went straight to her heart. “I believe it is.”
He bowed low over her hand. “Lady Rose, may I have the honor of this dance?”
After setting her goblet aside, she smiled and nodded, mimicking the behavior she’d been observing. “Indeed.”
With her hand in his, he led her out to the dance floor.
Waltzing with Ric was like being in a dream sequence in a movie. It was so perfect it wasn’t quite real. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed being in his arms all day. He was so much taller than her that her nose fit perfectly into the depression between his pecs. His velvet tunic was belted over a blousy silk shirt, padding the hard planes of his chest when she laid her cheek against it.
“Have I told you how lovely you are tonight?” His rich baritone was soft as silk against her hair. “Almost as beautiful as you are in a tank top spattered with paint.”
“Goof.” But it meant a lot to know he still saw the real Meagan, not just Cinderella in the gown. “Don’t suppose you can sneak into my room tonight.”
“Mmm. As a matter of fact, I have royal permission to keep you in sight until after the council meeting. After that—well, you’ve met the queen. I can’t promise anything, Meagan. All I can do is promise you that I’ll always be honest about things, at least when we’re alone.”
It wasn’t enough, not nearly. But she knew that his honesty was a gift in itself and she forced a brave smile.
“Then that’s a promise I’ll take, Sir Alaric. If all we have is a few stolen moments, we’d better make the best of them hadn’t we?”
He was still mulling over ways to keep that promise as they walked back to her apartments. Her guardsman and master of hounds led the way and Ric had to admit the dogs were a good idea, though he hoped he was in the room when Calculus was introduced to the household.
And he didn’t really like the idea of leaving Meagan in the hands of anyone whose loyalties he couldn’t vouch for personally. Fortunately for his peace of mind, Kieran followed behind, sword ready. There was no way Owain didn’t have more dirty tricks up his sleeve and it was driving Ric nuts waiting for the next attack.
“Have you seen this place?” Meagan squeezed his arm. “I can’t get over it.”
“Yeah, I saw it. When I was assigned to find you, I did do my research first, you know. And if you think the apartment’s something, wait till you see the estate. That’s where the family actually lived you know.”
“Speaking of that…”
Uh-oh. Ric tensed, waiting to hear what her agile mind had come up with this time.
“Nobody ever told me exactly where Rosemeade is—geographically, I mean. You said the palace is near Stonehenge and you grew up in the Underhill version of Wales. Where does my family come from?”
“Ireland, actually. On the southern coast.”
That was cool—how fitting that her adopted parents had been of Irish descent. She smiled and went on.
“Belinda says there’s probably a portal between the apartment and Rosemeade. Do you think there is?”
“There is.” Oh, shite, he could see where this was going and the security crew wasn’t going to like it a bit. “I used it to visit the estate before I came to Detroit.”
“Great! Then you can show me how to use it!”
“After the meeting—”
She cut him off before he could finish. “No. Not after the damn meeting. Now. Tonight. I’m damn sick of my entire life revolving around some stupid vote.
”
He looked down, saw her arms crossed over her chest and her jaw set in an unmoving line. She wasn’t going to budge on this and if he didn’t help her, she’d probably sneak off on her own. “Fine.”
“Really? You mean it?” Ever-volatile, she was instantly elated, and she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He did manage a quick conference with the security detail first, of course. Since the Rose family staff had been using the portal regularly, he was pretty sure it hadn’t been booby-trapped, and the guards would go through first, of course, to make sure the place was secure.
Once Kieran gave the all-clear, Ric took Meagan by the hand and stepped through the doorway. They’d both changed into jeans and Ric wore his sword belted around his waist. He’d also had Meagan leave her Louisville Slugger in a nice prominent place, where she could easily ’port it if needed. Unsatisfied, but out of ideas, he led her through the portal.
“Oh my God!” Meagan’s voice was hushed with awe.
They’d stepped into a small chamber frescoed with climbing roses all over the walls and ceiling. A few pieces of carved and upholstered furniture nestled in the corners, along with a small desk.
“This is basically a reception room,” Ric explained. “If you had important guests coming who didn’t want to travel conventionally, you might have them come through the apartment to here, so a servant would be stationed at the desk to check them off and announce them as they arrived.” Not to mention guards to make sure it was only the right guests, but he didn’t think she needed to hear that right now.
“Those roses look positively real.” She reached out to trace the line of a petal with her fingertip. “I wonder if one of my ancestors painted these. Maybe the artist thing is inherited.”
“Your great-grandmother, my lady.” The estate steward and his wife stood in the doorway. “She was brilliant, by all accounts. Many of the rooms are decorated with her work. And the carvings here and at the apartment were done by another ancestor.”
“It’s so weird.” Meagan shook her head and raised wide eyes to Ric. “My whole life I was a blank page, no history at all. Now suddenly there’s so much. I can’t take it all in.”
He understood. A lump formed in his throat as he thought about his own parents. At least Meagan now knew that she’d been loved and wanted. He knew he’d been thrown away.
He kept quiet as the servants gave Meagan the grand tour. She cried when she saw the portrait of her parents, one painted from a photograph taken at their joining ceremony. Emery had married his bride legally for her world in Las Vegas, before he brought her here to merge their life essences. Ric knew Aidan had witnessed the ceremony and taken the pictures, and he was sure that one day soon, Aidan would sit down and share all those memories with his newfound cousin. For now, all Ric could do was hold her close and dry her tears.
Chapter Seventeen
It was night by the time Meagan got her first look at Underhill outside the palace. For the most part it looked like anyplace else she’d ever been. Same sky, same moon, same stars. Except that maybe they seemed a bit—closer?
Brighter? Something.
And then there was the rose garden.
Rosemeade was phenomenal, of course, putting Aidan’s Grosse Pointe mansion to shame. But she’d sort of come to expect that. What she hadn’t expected was the incredible sense of family history that permeated the place. She knew that when she had the chance, she’d have to spend a few weeks here going through photo albums and diaries and such. Not now, but later, when she could get a handle on her emotions.
She also had totally spaced out about the issue of technology in the elven world. On the surface, everything seemed so medieval; she hadn’t expected to find a stereo and a stack of record albums in her father’s old bedroom.
Or a KitchenAid mixer in the kitchen. Ric had explained that the technology worked, sort of, powered by magic instead of electricity. But it was considered impolite to display it in public and there were no broadcasts, or Internet to tap into. She was glad that the social restrictions didn’t apply to plumbing facilities. Now that she thought about it, the bathrooms in the palace had been fully functional.
But the rose garden was simply—magical. There was no other word for it. Tiny lights like fireflies or Christmas tree lights twinkled in the greenery, but there were no cords.
“The origin of the phrase ‘fairy lights,’” Ric murmured.
“Are they alive?”
“No. Just magic.”
Just magic. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to be cavalier about it.
The roses glowed in the light of the sparkles and stars.
The garden was huge, she couldn’t see where it ended, but that might have been careful design as much as size.
Trellises arched over the cobblestone pathway and carved stone benches nestled between beds. The ground was carpeted with lavender and flowering thyme, filling the air with a spicy counterpoint to the heady aroma of the roses.
They followed the winding path, hands twined together. Right before they made a turn, she paused and looked at the house. Though palatial on the inside, from the outside it resembled a simple cobblestone cottage. “It is the house from my first painting, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“All this time, I thought they were only dreams.”
“No.” They walked on till they came to a small white wooden pergola, covered, of course, with tiny pink climbing roses. Inside was a cushioned bench and Ric drew her into it, pulling her close for a kiss.
It seemed like forever since they’d been together in Chicago, though she supposed it had really only been sixteen hours or so. But so much had happened and so much had changed that it felt like a lifetime.
“Goddess, I missed this!” Ric’s groan echoed her own thoughts. He sat on the bench, drawing her down into his lap. She molded her body to his, trying to get as close as humanly—or magically—possible and burrowed her hands up under his Ramones T-shirt.
“Is anybody else likely to come out here?” She managed to speak only after his lips left hers to travel down the side of her throat. His hands were already inside her tank top, cupping the sides of her breasts while his thumbs rasped across her nipples.
“Not if they don’t have a death wish.” He nipped the tendon where her shoulder met her throat. “I told the guards to keep watch outside the rose garden until we get back.”
“Smart man.” She shifted so she was straddling his legs, pressing her damp jeans down against the bulge in his. “With way too many clothes on.”
“Umm-hmm.” He captured her mouth for another kiss, one that had her grinding against him. Then he pulled back and dropped a feather-light kiss on the tip of her nose. “Wanna see a cool trick?”
“Sure.” He’d already shown her more than she’d ever known about making love. She trusted him.
He held his hand out to the side and concentrated for a second. Then Meagan squealed as she realized he now held her jeans in his outstretched hand. He’d blinked them right off her body.
“Oh, that is cool. But don’t ever do it when I’m not expecting it.” She closed her eyes and thought for a second and sure enough, there was his T-shirt, wadded up in her hand. “Awesome.”
“Oh yeah?” There went her shirt. And her bra. They were both giggling like idiots. She ’ported off his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his boots and socks, which he must have gotten rid of on his own, because a second later they were gone. She kicked off her canvas sneakers before he could blink them. All that remained between them now was a wet pair of blue cotton panties. “Are you attached to those?” His voice was a low, raspy purr.
“Not really.” Hers was nothing more than an airy puff.
“Good.” Instead of blinking away her underwear, he reached around her back, grabbed hold with both hands and ripped.
She shifted, allowing him to pull the shreds away from her body before she sh
immied back against him, rubbing her cleft against the hard ridge of his cock. She wanted him inside her desperately, but another part of her wanted to draw things out, to savor the moment. She slid her hands through his long, silky hair and leaned forward to nip the point of his ear.
“Goddess!”
“Mmm. Pointy and sensitive. I love your ears, Ric.”
She sucked the tip between her lips and tickled it with her tongue.
“And they love what you’re doing to them. But now it’s my turn.” He laid her back, supporting her with his hands as he lowered his mouth to her breasts. He dropped a kiss on one, briefly brushing it with his tongue before he switched to the other, settling there for a longer, wetter kiss. She groaned out loud when he sucked the pebbled peak into the heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, luxurious circles.
She gripped his arms for support as she leaned backward, her spine arching upward while he continued to suckle. The heavy fragrance of the rose garden tickled her nose and mixed with the scent of Ric’s sweat and her own musk.
“Beautiful!” he crooned when he finally kissed his way across her chest to her other nipple. He treated it to the same thorough attention as its mate and he tugged gently with his teeth, making her breath catch in her throat.
“I wanted this to last.” His strong hands pulled her upward, pressing her close against his chest. “But I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
“Then don’t.” Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she rose up higher on her knees, giving him room to position himself at her entrance. Then she tipped her face to his and kissed him. Their lips clung tenderly while she slowly, slowly sank down onto his strong, thick shaft, savoring every second as he filled her bit by bit.
One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other gently cupped her ass. For a long time they stayed still, only their lips moving in a slow, seductive dance. Eventually, though, the need became too overpowering to resist and Meagan pushed herself up with her knees. Their bodies slid against each other easily, she was that wet, as she rose to the point where only the head of his penis remained inside her. Then she wiggled her hips as she inched back down.
Motor City Fae Page 21
