by Claudy Conn
Her prince turned to her and smiled as he took her elbow and led her down another twenty feet to her bedroom. He stopped there and played with a length of her black hair as he looked down at her. “Ah Lia, shall I come inside and tuck you under your covers?”
Max was surprised to find that she actually trembled with anticipation. Yes, there was no doubt about it. This Fae was sexy beyond a ten. Her mind said, Give it up, Max. Time to get some real hot sex with someone who knows how to give it! Yup, that made sound sense. Her heart cautioned, Careful, Max. You want more.
Hmm—more, but that was before this hunky prince arrived on the scene. Would it be so wrong? A girl could sure do worse, she told herself, and then added, No—no—too much alcohol clouding reason. No decision should be made just now.
“No, not tonight.” Maxie slurred only slightly as she smiled at him. She didn’t want him to give up, just in case tomorrow she changed her mind.
The prince was an immortal. He had all the time in the world. He was in no great rush to rush her, but even so, she could see he wanted to get her into her room—and into her bed. He didn’t want to wait. He tried again. “Shall I come in, close your drapes, and feed you the chocolate I left on your pillow?”
A Cheshire cat smile took over Maxie’s lips. Chocolate? Oh he certainly was a deity! Oh yeah, a girl could do much worse. “You left me chocolate in my room? Oh that is ten points for you, bud.”
“And my reward?”
“You need more than ten points for that.”
He bent his head as he had apparently decided he was getting some kind of reward in advance of the point system.
“Ah … excuse me … I don’t mean to interrupt … but I need to get past you to my room,” Julian Talbot said coldly. Maxie could see his blue eyes were dark with something—what, anger? No, more like rage. Why?
The prince moved aside to let him pass. Max jumped into her room and closed the door. She was still at the door when she felt, and saw in her mind, the prince’s hand on the other side, palm flat on the panel of her door. He said quietly, “My Lia. You took advantage of me.”
She giggled. “Well … I am returning the favor. I am bosky, my handsome prince. You should not be taking advantage of me.” This time she was fully aware that she was slurring. She heard Breslyn laugh with gusto and call out to her as he moved off, “I will be gone a few days, Lia my love … our time in Faery is different. Miss me till I return.”
Max immediately opened the door to question him, but he was already gone. Off to Faeryland, no doubt. And that was that. She woke in the morning and held her head. Now she stood on a deer path with the woods at her back and the sweeping, rolling glen stretching out ahead. She could see the rivulet that led to the Caledonian Canal, and it was quite an eye opener in the morning sun! Glorious. Max discovered that there was no doubt she was in love with the land. However, she had walked for more than an hour, and it would take that time to get back. Abruptly she turned for home, and a question tickled her brain. Would Julian be up and about?
Maxie had discovered a shortcut back to the castle, and even so it had taken her another forty-five minutes before she reached the kitchen’s pretty oak and glass door. Breathless, she opened the door to a warm scene.
Tally, a tall, thin woman of about forty or so with short, layered waves of auburn hair and lovely hazel eyes, turned and welcomed her with a warm smile. As Maxie stepped into the kitchen, Tally handed her a mug of coffee. “Thought you might be needing this after your long walk.”
“Perfect, Tally, thanks.”
Uncle Kennet sat at the table, a mug of black coffee in his hands, and his eyes roaming all over the lovely Tally. Maxie’s eyebrows went up, and she managed to capture the whole scene before he noticed her watching him, whereupon he shifted his gaze to the basket of muffins and said, “These are good, Max … have one.”
Well, well, what is this?
Uncle Kennet had a sad history. He had been married, and from what Maxie could remember, and according to what she had overheard when her parents had been behind closed doors, his wife had been the love of his life. They weren’t able to have kids, and then ten years ago when she was still quite young, cancer bared its ugly teeth and bit hard and fast.
She had been twelve, and she remembered watching and listening to everything that had gone on. She watched Uncle Kennet go downhill with his wife. After he lost her, he seemed to lose the desire to socialize with anyone other than Maxie’s parents and Max. She never heard her parents mention him ever having an interest in another relationship after that. Of course, Max knew he wasn’t a monk, but still, it was really interesting to see him now with just such a look in his quiet, gray eyes. Her heart swelled for him.
Max put a piece of the cinnamon muffin in her mouth and closed her eyes. “Oh, Tally … this is … superb. And what a wonderful dinner you left us last night.” She turned to her Uncle Kennet. “And good morning to you, Uncle Kennet.”
Tally was guiding Max away from the counter and to the table as she thanked her for the compliments. Maxie smiled to herself and thought Tally was a bit shy as she watched her turn her back to them and begin her work of chopping vegetables at the carving board.
“Yes … I hope you were able to sleep?” Uncle Kennet’s eyes were twinkling.
Max pulled a face at him. “Ugh. Brandy. Don’t let me do brandy.”
“Ah, but you are your own woman,” he said, and his hidden meaning was not so very subtle.
She ignored him, sipping coffee from her mug. She took up a napkin and sat across from her uncle with her the cinnamon muffin in hand. “Tally … forget the veggies, come sit and have coffee with us.”
Tally smiled. “Lovely.” She brought her mug to the table and sat beside Max. Uncle Kennet remarked lightly, “Tally was just telling me that she only started to work at the castle two weeks ago.”
Max was surprised. “Really? Wow. How did it come about?”
“Och, there I was wondering what I could do with meself, not even an inkling that I even wanted to work,” she said with that pretty Scottish inflection. “I …” She looked into the distant part of the room. “I lost my husband over a year ago. His poor heart gave out, you see.” She stopped as though to bolster herself and then went on, “My two sons are grown men with lives of their own. My oldest works in Edinburgh, and the youngest in London. They visit when they can, but when Bess, who is my neighbor and dear friend, said they were looking for help at the castle I jumped at the chance to have something to keep me busy.”
“I suppose they hadn’t needed a cook before—with no one in residence?” Maxie shrugged out of her jacket and plopped it on the chair at the head of the table. “How lucky for all of us that you wanted to take the job. Did Bess hire you, or did you have to have an interview with … er … Sir Breslyn?” The prince had told them he was known as the MacTalbot estate trustee.
Max tore off another piece of muffin and plopped it into her mouth with a groan of pleasure. Sweets and ‘no-no’ foods had always been Maxie’s weakness. They were the bane of her life. She was forever making deals with herself. A pastry—no potato at dinner. Fries—no lunch. Pizza—no dinner … always deals!
“No, I have never met Sir Breslyn, although Bess tells me he is …”—Tally smiled—“extremely outstanding.” She smiled at Max as only women could when conveying a message they didn’t wish to articulate in front of male company. They understood one another.
Ever curious Maxie asked, “Who then?”
“Mr. Shamon Moore.”
Maxie almost choked on her coffee and indeed spluttered some and made a mess she hurried to clean with her napkin. Uncle Kennet was also surprised and put down his mug to stare at Tally.
“Shamon?” Maxie’s voice was high-pitched, her tone incredulous. Shamon had been DuLaine’s trusted servant, lover, and everything. She knew the Fae had been grooming Shamon to aid them with the problem of DuLaine, but this—this was still beyond any expectation of what he should be allowed to do for J
ulian Talbot. After all … he had not even tried to warn Julian’s bride all those years ago. And speaking of all those years ago, how was Shamon still alive? Who had kept him alive? Had he aged? Just who and what was Shamon Moore now, and what was his role in this ongoing story?
”Yes—is something wrong?”
Maxie could see Tally was worried. It showed on her face that she wondered if she had talked out of turn, and Maxie was inwardly furious.
“No. No … I just didn’t know Shamon Moore handled any estate business for Lord Talbot.” Maxie hoped to assuage Tally.
“No, Miss Reigate. How would you? I am not in the habit of discussing my business affairs with my … guests.” Julian Talbot stood in the doorway, larger than life, actually nearly larger than the doorway. His voice was deep and forbidding. His body language spoke volumes, and none of those volumes said good morning.
Maxie quickly thought that he was right, sort of, but not quite. She also felt heat rush into her cheeks, but she was really far angrier than she was embarrassed. How dare he speak to me like that? She decided to hold off the easy retort that came to her lips and watched him as he moved to the serving board and poured himself coffee.
However, he made the mistake of opening his mouth again. To top that, he used a condescending tone. “And as you are … interested … in my affairs, Mr. Moore is the attorney for all MacTalbot holdings.”
Tally was already moving nervously towards her cutting board, which also upset Maxie. When the words came they were lined with pique. “Oh? Should I thank you for sharing that piece of information?” Maxie’s eyes sparkled with anger as she jumped to her feet. As much as she wanted more coffee, she stuck her mug in the dishwasher and quietly left the room.
Logic told her it was ridiculous, but his cool arrogance had somehow reached in and pinched her heart. It was one thing to be moody; it was another to make people uncomfortable for no good reason. He had certainly made Tally blush. He had been rude, and for no discernable reason Maxie was hurt. Absurd. He was a virtual stranger to her. However, he had been insufferable. She hadn’t been gossiping. They were all directly involved in this saga. No gossip—just facts.
Damn straight! Maxie felt it was totally her right to know everything. She went into the library and stood by the fireplace warming her hands and fuming about his behavior. She felt her thoughts warring with each other, and for no good reason she wanted to cry. It was ridiculous, but there it was. A part of her just wanted to burst into tears. She wanted to run to her mom and tell her it was all too much. This legend of theirs was too much. Being a Druid priestess—too much. Now this DuLaine was coming after her—too much!
She wanted her mom to hold her once more. She wanted to hear her dear voice tell her once again that everything was going to be fine. However, they were gone—both of them gone. Nothing was fine. Now she was facing a Fae prince who wanted to seduce her, his Lordship of Gloom and Ice who didn’t want to seduce her, and some awful, bloodsucking, beautiful woman who was going to try and kill her.
Yup, that was it in a nutshell. Cut to the quick; see it for what was. Face it head on. Right—a tear was, in fact, trickling down her cheek. Who was he to hurt her? All this was just a means to an end. To keep safe while someone got rid of the bloodsucker once and for all! The shouting in her head asked the question, How the hell could he allow Shamon to handle his estate?
She had no idea what Shamon’s role was in this equation. Nothing in the journals explained his part in the past or present. All she knew was that Shamon Moore was DuLaine’s devoted lover and servant. All she knew was that he had never done anything to stop the demon woman in the past. So, Maxie’s next question was, What the shit is going on?
“Miss Reigate …”
Hurriedly she brushed the other tear trickling down her cheek away and spun around from the fireplace, hoping that her intense glare was unforgiving. She certainly intended it to be, and for good measure she put up her eyebrow as well.
Julian took incredibly long strides towards her, and she saw something bright but hidden in his eyes. What was that? He reached for her. She froze, but before she could stop him from touching her … she didn’t have to worry about it. He had already dropped his hands to his sides; he couldn’t know, but she felt a tingle of disappointment. His voice was low, his words succinct. “I was rude earlier. Please forgive me.”
She could see that his apology was sincere, so she dove right in. “Look, no sense walking on eggshells. We are here for a reason. We know … you and I … what the past was. We know DuLaine is out there and what she would do with our futures if she could. I hear that Shamon is alive and well and working as your attorney for your estate. I mean we are talking Shamon—DuLaine’s Shamon. He may not have liked what she did, but he enabled her, he was faithful to her. I was certainly and rightfully shocked. I am still shocked. I have a right to know why he has anything to do with you, with you here and now, and how—”
“Shamon Moore is a complicated tale.” He broke in and looked at her for a long moment. “I am not sure … just what you know, Miss Reigate. I was not aware that my bride had been maintaining a journal before our wedding. And of course I did not know that her brother Daniel and then his descendents would continue what she started. You probably know as much as I do.”
“Her journal, which I shall loan you, was maintained up until the moment she left to meet the DuLaine.”
He closed his eyes. “Yes, and I would appreciate it if you might allow me to read it some … sometime in the future. In the meantime, we should be sharing information. I know the Fae brought you up to speed.”
She wagged her slim finger at him and snapped sarcastically, “I am not about to let history repeat itself. No rushing off like crazy people … no one knowing what the other is doing.”
He gave her a half smile. “Yes, right then, you want to know about Shamon. He was DuLaine’s servant. She saved him when he was a starving young boy in the gutters of Liverpool. However, life has a way of changing people. Suffice it to say that he is employed now by er … the Druid elders and the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danaan.”
“Employed? What the hell does that mean?” Maxie waved a delicate hand, and her eyes were wider than they had ever been.
“I suppose you were not informed of this for a reason. After all, you will not be directly involved in the heat of battle, Miss Reigate.”
“You don’t think so? Well, I disagree. I am the one the old bloodsucker will come after to kill. She wants you alive. She wants me dead. Directly involved, I would say.” She was past fuming. “Now tell me about Shamon—please.”
Julian Talbot was not a man to be dictated to by a woman. Maxie watched him struggle with her demand. He came from a time when men were men and women got their way by other methods. Women couldn’t even vote in his day. She understood, but she wasn’t about to shy away. She went on glaring as she waited for him to respond.
Suddenly he looked enraged. “Why are you angry with me? You and the prince seem cozy enough, why don’t you ask him?” This time he had taken her by the shoulders. He gave her a little shake as he towered over her, looking deep into her green eyes.
Max wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard an animal sound deep in his throat, and it sent a little thrill through her body. For a wayward moment she thought he was bending towards her. She looked into his magnetic blue eyes. He had the look of a man torn. She was transfixed by the sensations that flooded her body, and she had to admit to herself she was excited at the notion that he might be about to kiss her. She got ready. Afterwards she would close her eyes with consternation and ask herself, Did I pucker? She thought she puckered.
All at once she felt him get control of himself. He took a step back from her as he dropped his hold. Without a word he gave her his back and abruptly left the room.
Well! She stomped her foot. Just what was wrong with the man? Someone in her heart said, Easy, Max. Give him a little slack. After all, he is a man driven. He has only had a f
ew months to grieve the loss of his beloved.
Yeah, well, she answered herself, if he’s going to play the role of big tough guy, then there’s a limit to the slack he gets from me!
~ Nine ~
AFTER THEIR STORMY encounter, Maxie did not bump into Julian for the remainder of the day. She felt a pang of disappointment when she realized he wasn’t going to be with them for dinner either. She and Uncle Kennet had a quiet evening. She was exhausted by delayed jet lag, so she excused herself and went up to her room to collect herself and her thoughts.
All at once she felt something happening. She sent a command to the part of her brain she had been thinking of as her ‘Druid place’. No pain—no pain, she told it. That seemed to work, but she was off balance and stumbled backwards. Her hands went out to steady herself, and she breathed out loud. “Whoa …”
Her wonderful ‘gift’, she thought sarcastically, was kicking in. Where was she going this time? It took over. The room vanished in a swirl of light. The vision was so strong that she couldn’t stand. She found her way to the bed and collapsed, curling up with her legs tucked under her as she clung to the bedpost. It was taking over her brain and her senses, and all at once Maxie saw and felt. She was there watching and at the same time, she could hear what Lamia was thinking …
Lamia DuLaine opened her amber eyes. They weren’t red this time, but a dark shade of deep amber. Lamia wondered where she was and then recalled it all with a sigh of relief. No longer a prisoner! She moved her hand in a soothing motion over her arm and glanced around her bedchamber. She looked at the complex digital clock on her nightstand. It gave the time and the date.
Maxie realized what she was seeing had taken place a few days ago. Once again, she was viewing the past. Why was this? Why was she getting visions of the past? She wondered if someone somewhere should be giving her a view of the future. What she wanted to know was what DuLaine was about to do—not what she’d already done.
DuLaine was thinking about the Druid elders and how much she hated them and their rules. They had gotten the command from the Seelie Fae to release her before her two-hundred-year sentence had been completed. Yes, they had released her, but the horror of the last nearly two hundred years still reverberated in her veins and made her cower alone in the darkness.
