by Mary Morgan
She traced a finger down along his arm and shook her head. “Ye are not a monster, but I am nae fool. Ye are not like other men, Rory. I have seen the markings on your body elsewhere.” Her finger curved around his shoulder and he trembled. “They are similar to the ones on the standing stones carved by the ancients.”
Rory fought the tide of emotions sweeping through him. She had come to the conclusion all on her own. “And ye would not flee if I told ye I was one of those ancients? One where the bards wove tales of giants who lived thousands of years ago among your own people? Others would call the story incredulous and filled with heathen words.” He held his breath, fearing her reply.
The smile she gave him speared straight to his soul. “Nae. I would not flee.”
Taking her hand, Rory led her to the window and pointed upward. “My people came from the stars, mo ghrá. We settled here in Ireland and Scotland thousands of years ago. However, over time, we deemed it necessary to create another realm to live.”
“Why?”
Rory sighed and brought her close to him. “Your people grew fearful of mine. The path of a new religion spread and some judged us to be demons because of our power over the land. When the wars began, my people fiercely considered it unwise to use powers against yours, and a decision was finally made to leave.”
Erina wrapped her arms around his waist. “Where did ye go?”
“Beneath the Hill of Tara in Ireland.”
“Hmm…a magical place, indeed.”
“Ye have heard of the land?”
She leaned her head against his chest. “Many times from my grandmother. She told me the Fae folk live there.”
Rory cradled her in his arms. “I would have liked to meet this wondrous woman.”
“Aye. She would have warned me against ye, though.”
Rory cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Truly? Why?”
“She often cautioned me against any man with alluring eyes, saying it might lead to sorrow. Although, she did state once that the man might also be one to bring happiness, but he would be fraught with troubles.”
Smiling, he released his hold. “Was she a seer?”
“Goodness, nae. But a verra wise woman. She taught me everything about the old beliefs and knowledge of the land—from healing herbs, plants, flowers, trees,” Erina waved her hand outward, adding, “including the stars. Whenever she was disturbed or troubled, she’d go out at night and look upward at them. Afterwards, she’d return with an answer to some problem she was trying to solve.”
“The stars are a marvel in themselves.”
Erina twisted in his arms and placed her hands upon his chest. “So ye are…ancient?”
He brought his hands to her shoulders. “I am a Fenian Fae Warrior for my people and far older than ye can imagine.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh. Are ye important?”
“Aye.”
“Why me?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“Because your soul called out to mine, mo ghrá, and no one ever has in my entire lifetime.” Rory brushed a delicate kiss along her lower lip. “Once I take ye to my bed, ye will be mine. There will be no turning back. I want ye now and forever.”
Erina looked away, and he could sense the battle of indecision within her. “If I give myself to ye, I am fearful of what tomorrow might bring.”
“There will be nae doubts, or fears between us, Erina. I have recently learned that tomorrow can be as fleeting as the next day. Each moment, each second should be a treasured memory. I wish to have those that were stolen from me.” He ached to tell her how they first met, but there was nothing he could draw from within his fragmented memories.
She glanced sharply at him and cupped his face. “Then let us make new ones, starting with this night.”
How her words banished the ugly past and sparked a hope for the future. For new beginnings. Rory lifted her, treasuring the feel of her in his arms, and with a single thought sealed all the doors and passageways to his chamber. Striding with intent, he made his way to the bed.
After gently placing her on the edge of the furs, he knelt in front of her. “Your feet are cold.” Trailing a path from her toes to along her thigh with the back of his hand, Rory watched her eyes widen, and her breathing hitched.
“Are they?” she murmured. “I did not notice.”
“Aye, but I’m positive they can be warmed.” As Rory’s fingers neared her nest of curls, she tried to push his hand away.
He arched a brow. “I thought ye enjoyed my touch?”
Bright red splotches appeared on her cheeks, and she bit her lower lip. “I do, but I…dinnae want ye…” She looked away. “’Tis wanton.”
“The pleasure it brings ye?” he asked, slipping a finger between her soft folds.
She nodded and let out a gasp.
His hand stilled. “Do ye wish me to stop?”
“Nae!” she blurted out and returned her gaze to his. “But, ye are down there…I want ye near me.”
Smiling, he complied and settled her on his lap. “Is this better?”
“Aye. But I wish to feel ye.” Surprising Rory, she removed her chemise and tossed it to the floor.
The blood pounded in his veins—in his soul. Her innocence and passion to learn fueled his own desire. “Ye are so beautiful.” He brushed his fingers across her breasts, and she trembled. He noted the stunning necklace she wore and lifted the amethyst to study its radiance. “Where did ye come upon this gem?”
“From my grandmother. The stone has been in our family for many generations.”
Rory gently placed it back between her ivory breasts. As he nuzzled her neck, her intoxicating scent filled him. Erina moved against him, and his cock swelled more. He longed to sink deep within her body. He trailed a path down to her breast with his tongue, capturing the taut nipple between his teeth, lavishing one and then the other.
“Rory,” she moaned, placing an arm around his shoulders.
Lifting his head from her silken globes, he took her mouth in a searing kiss and thrust his tongue deep within. He wanted all of her—reclaiming what was once lost. His hands roamed over her skin, committing to memory every single touch. Each kiss, each sigh, each moan resonated deep inside him.
When Erina slipped her hand beneath his plaid, her hand swept across the top of his cock, and he almost spilled his seed. “Nae,” he uttered in a guttural cry and pushed her back onto the bed. Her legs parted, giving him a view of what he longed to taste.
Standing, Rory removed his plaid and watched as Erina’s gaze darkened further. Her tongue darted out, tempting him to bring her head down upon his erection. He ached to have her succulent lips descend and devour him.
Erina held out her hand. “Let me touch ye.”
“I cannot hold back.”
Her smile was provocative. “One touch,” she whispered.
His legs shook as he stepped forward and crawled across the bed to her. Lying on his side, he took her hand and placed it over his cock. He gritted his teeth as her fingers slid delicately down one side and up the other. Rory felt his control slipping with each touch and with a growl, he rolled her onto her back and kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat.
“Ye smell of spices and the woods,” he murmured, as he continued to ravish her body with kisses. His hand slipped down across her abdomen, until he reached her sensitive core. Erina whimpered when he flicked a finger over and around, rousing her passion and igniting a firestorm within him.
“Please,” she begged, arching against his hand and digging her hands into his scalp. “Ne…need all of ye.”
Rory recaptured her mouth and slid on top of her, slowing bringing the head of his erection to her entrance. Her heat surrounded him, along with the scent of her passion. He tried to force himself to go slowly, but when Erina wrapped a leg around him, he lost all sense of purpose and thrust deeply.
Letting out a hiss, Erina dug her nails into his shoulder and closed her eyes.
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nbsp; He stilled. “Have I hurt ye?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She swept away a lock of hair from his eyes. “Only slight. Dinnae stop.”
Slowly, he withdrew and then entered her again—her full breasts rubbing against his chest in a seductive dance. He continued to move in and out in long, intense strokes. Rory delved deeper into a wave of ecstasy more powerful than anything he had known. With each thrust, kiss, and moan, he brought them closer to the flame, and when he thought he could no longer maintain control, Erina arched against him. The moment his mouth covered her lips, his own pleasure exploded forth from him. The power of Rory’s release vibrated all around them and for a moment, the stars surrounded them as he emptied all he had to give into the woman he loved.
A wave of euphoria swept through him as he rolled onto his back, bringing Erina with him. Cradling her soft body within his arms, he tried to calm his breathing. And in those quiet, tender moments, Rory spoke the words in his ancient language to link his soul forever with Erina’s.
“Blood to blood, I am yours. Heart to heart, ye are mine. Soul to soul, we shall be joined as one. I bind ye with these words for all eternity.”
Erina lifted her head and kissed the tears streaming down his face.
Chapter Nineteen
“A Fae’s love is similar to a butterfly. It remains in its protective cocoon until it’s ready to present itself.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
In an attempt to seek the warmth of his body, Erina brushed a hand over the furs. Yet, the more she tried searching, the more frustration seeped within. Forcing her eyelids open, she blinked in confusion. Sunlight danced through the glass in a room that was not what she last remembered. Did she imagine being in Rory’s chamber? Was their lovemaking all a dream? Her mind was fuzzy, and she tried to focus.
As she propped herself up on her elbows, she winced from the pain. Tossing aside the fur covering, she lifted her chemise and saw the evidence of blood staining her inner thighs. “Definitely not a dream,” she muttered and smiled. Flopping back down against her pillow, she cupped a hand over her mouth in glee. The man must have carried her back to her own chamber.
Her body ached in wondrous places she’d never experienced. Rory’s touch was divine pleasure, taking her over and over again. Her face heated at all the wonderful things he had done to her, as memories of their lovemaking came back in a rush of images. Her nipples hardened, and Erina longed to have his mouth on her once again.
Startled by the tapping on her door, Erina bolted upright. She glanced around the room and spied her wrap on a chair by the hearth. Dashing out of the bed, she darted across the cold floor and reached for the material. “One moment,” she ordered, placing the garment around her shoulders.
Thane lifted his head, but made no attempt to leave his warm spot by the dying embers in the hearth.
She paused before the door and tried to steady her jumbled nerves. Uncertain how she looked, she asked, “Who is it?”
“Open the door, Erina. It’s Catherine.”
Letting out a breath, she opened the door.
Catherine swept past her. “Sweet Brigid. Do ye ken the hour?”
Erina glanced out into the corridor and then quickly closed the door. “Well, the sun is high in the sky, so I reckon late.”
Her friend whirled around and studied her. “All these weeks and I have never known ye to sleep past the first ray of dawn, Erina MacIntyre.” She pointed to Thane. “Even your dog rises early.”
She glared at the animal. Traitor. Ye could have awakened me, unless Rory took ye out earlier this morn. Clasping her hands in front of her, Erina responded, “Aye, but I fear it was nae lie when I professed I had a headache last evening.”
Catherine continued to survey her. “Forgive me. Ye do look like ye have a fever, too.” She wandered over to the cushioned window bench and sat. “In truth, I have suffered the same. I even dismissed riding my horse today for fear one of those men would want to escort me.”
“Ranald Cameron is the worst,” complained Erina and walked to the hearth. Tossing in some peat, she turned back around.
The woman shuddered visibly and fingered her gown. “He was horrid. I swear if my father makes a marriage agreement, I shall flee north.”
“Ye have kin there?” Erina asked, and took a seat on the opposite side of the bench.
“Aye. My aunt on my mother’s side,” replied Catherine and gazed out the window. “Though I hear she wanted naught to do with my father after my mother died. Therefore, my stay there might be fraught with troubles, or she could turn me away.”
Erina leaned forward and placed a comforting hand over hers. “Then let us pray ye dinnae have to find out. I am confident your father will listen to your concerns.”
The woman laughed and returned her attention back to Erina. “I hope I can persuade him. We depart for home tomorrow.”
“So soon? I will miss ye, Catherine.”
Sadness replaced mirth on her friend’s features. “Aye. Father deems it best before the snows. He did mention we should return in the spring, so he and Graham can take their concerns directly to the king. Furthermore, ye are welcome anytime, especially if ye need to flee from a certain brother.”
Erina gave her a weak smile as she leaned back. “Mayhap we should remain in our respective chambers for the day.”
“A grand idea, but I refuse to cower in my room.” She angled her head at Erina. “Ye look different. Should I send for the healer?”
Swallowing, Erina shook her head. “I have nae wish to have a healer bleed me.”
“Hmm…ye are correct. ’Tis a messy process, as well.” Pursing her lips, Catherine stood. “Shall I see ye at the evening meal?”
“Only if ye promise there will be nae dancing.”
Catherine laughed. “Aye, I did promise the offensive man. But only to divert him from last evening.” She tapped a finger against her lips and then her eyes lit up. “I have it! We will dance with each other. Or better yet, ye can dance with Rory, and I will take a turn with Graham.”
Erina’s face heated at the mere thought of being in Rory’s arms once again. “I like the first idea.”
Shrugging, Catherine made her way to the door. “As long as ye are at the meal, it makes nae matter.” Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder. “Are ye sure I cannot send for anyone?”
There’s only one person I long to see, but I shall not utter his name. “Nae, but I thank ye.”
As soon as the door closed, Erina rushed over to the basin and dumped some water inside the large bowl. Splashing cold water on her face and arms, she reached for a bar of lavender-scented soap and scrubbed her face, arms, and thighs as best she could with a cloth. Her hair was a knotted mess, but she managed to braid a large portion and weave it around her head.
After hastily dressing, Erina grabbed her cloak and opened the door. She glanced over her shoulder. “Out ye go, Thane. Ye can return later.”
The animal stretched and shook himself. She gave him a pat when he sauntered past her and out of the room.
Her nerves were twisted, and anticipation danced along her skin at the thought of seeing Rory. As she left her chamber, her hands shook. Pausing, she tried to calm her racing heart. A door along the corridor opened, and Brother Michael stepped outside.
“Erina, ’tis good to see ye have left your bed. I feared your pain from last evening would leave ye inside your chamber all day.” The monk shifted his stance. “Are ye breaking your fast? I can fix ye a medicinal brew.”
She fidgeted under his scrutiny. “Nae. But some food will be welcomed.”
He nodded and gestured her forward. “If ye dinnae mind, I would like to give ye something.”
She glanced at him sideways as they made their way along the corridor. “I can assure ye, the pain is gone.”
“My gift is one ye requested through Graham.”
They halted by the stairs, and she took his arm. “Ye have brought some rose flower syrup?”
&nbs
p; He chuckled softly. “I am surprised ye have not asked me.”
“In truth, I had forgotten.” How could she explain her fixation on only one man?
“Then I am happy ye are surprised. I have placed the bottles in the kitchens.”
Erina took his arm. “Thank ye. How kind of ye to remember. Most of the roses have faded at Kileburn. My brother did let me harvest some during the summer, and I made lovely soap.”
“Graham spoke to me of extending your own garden to include roses.”
Stunned by this revelation, she asked, “Graham does not wish me to live at the cottage, so why would he aid in my garden?”
The monk squeezed her hand. “Mayhap, this was before the trouble started festering across his lands. Now, he judges it wiser to have ye remain here.”
As they descended the stairs, a tremor of unease settled inside her stomach. Ranald Cameron stood off to the side speaking with another one of the lairds. They both halted their conversation as she and Brother Michael approached.
“Lady Erina,” greeted Ranald.
Giving both men a slight smile, she nodded and kept moving in the direction of the kitchens. She hated how the quiet one followed her with his eyes—menacing and dark. At least Ranald voiced his thoughts, but the other laird made her stomach churn with uneasiness.
“I do hope to have a dance with ye this evening,” he called out.
“I have promised them to another,” she lied and continued down the passageway.
The man grumbled a response, but his words were lost to Erina.
“Ye tempt fire with that one,” muttered Brother Michael.
Removing her hand from the monk’s arm, she countered, “Then provide me with a pitcher of water, so I can douse the beast.”
Brother Michael coughed into his fist. “Amen.”
When they entered the kitchens, Mairi gave her a tight smile and brushed past her without an acknowledgement. Bryson stood over one end of the hearth, tending to some meat. His features were strained, and Erina judged he and Mairi had already had a lover’s quarrel. Or worse, the charm did not work.
“All I have is porridge for ye, Lady Erina,” stated Larena, and she pointed to a small pot hanging over the fire. “Unless ye are here for more cooking instructions?”
