by Claudy Conn
Julian considered her thoughtfully. “She may be right.”
“It is not what I like.” Breslyn flexed as he moved. “But I suppose the queen would agree with you. However, when I am called away, you must keep a better eye on her, Talbot.”
Maxie was surprised to see a stricken look come into Julian’s blue eyes. “Don’t you think I know that? This came out of nowhere … but it won’t happen again.”
“So what we are left with …” summed up Uncle Kennet, sinking back into his leather-bound chair and pyramiding his fingers, “ … is a perilous state of affairs with a dangerous immortal in the mix?”
They all just looked at each other. Julian broke the silence first, directing himself at Breslyn. “At midnight … we must enact another protection spell.”
“It will be a difficult thing. We don’t know who the Fae is.” The prince stopped his pacing to consider this. “We obviously can’t put a nondescript spell—”
“Yes, we can, Prince!” Julian was excited now and in comrade-mode once more. “The only Fae that need to visit MacTalbot land are you and the queen, so the spell can prohibit all Fae except you and the queen from stepping foot anywhere at MacTalbot.”
“Get the colored inks ready—you will need some very particular rune tattoos for this, Talbot,” the prince returned sharply.
Maxie saw Breslyn’s mind was in high gear. Too many thoughts going on in there for her to contemplate so she didn’t. Instead, she turned her attention to Julian, though truth be told, it had never wandered from him. Glancing over his finely structured torso, she wondered just where these new tattoos were going to land. Without realizing her gaze drifted downwards, and she found herself looking, really looking at his crotch. She stopped herself to close her eyes and silently remarked, I am so ashamed …
As it happened Julian Talbot chose that very second to turn, find her gaze, and notice just where she glanced. She was flooded with heat and could do nothing but look away. Damn! What will he think?
The prince commanded Uncle Kennet and Julian in his autocratic style. “You will both keep her safe now. I will have to leave, but I will be back as soon as I can and before midnight.” He returned to Maxie’s side and touched her lips with a gentle rub of his finger. It was a very seductive, enticing move. He certainly had style, above and beyond his hot body and his Fae magic.
Maxie, however, discovered that she was not succumbing to his intoxicating seduction, and she marveled at herself for a moment. Instead she was thinking of midnight and the protection wards they were going to enact. She knew that midnight was the sacred hour for Druid and Fae alike.
Julian was standing over her. “You …” His tone said he would brook no argument as he reached for her and scooped her into his arms cradle style. “ … are going up to bed.”
“Oh-no-I-am-not!” She growled, “Bres healed me … see, all gone … all better. I may go upstairs for a shower and a change of clothing, but then I am coming down to feed with you guys because I am so incredibly hungry, and then I am going to watch you do this spell thing! Oh-yes-I-am.” She added this last for emphasis.
Julian hesitated and then smiled. “Very well, Miss Reigate, as you wish.” However he continued to carry her out of the room as Uncle Kennet held open the door for them and gave Julian a thumbs up.
She looked around to see why the prince was not objecting, but he wasn’t there. He had already poofed off, she supposed to Faeryland. “I can walk,” Maxie still argued.
“So you can, and yet … you may not.” Julian was grinning. “And I suggest …” They were already on the stairs. “ … that you do not wiggle about and throw me off balance.”
Maxie glared at him but decided there was no response she could make that would serve. She allowed him his moment.
~ Fifteen ~
MARY NEWTON’S THIN but firm young arms were overladen with a stack of legal files. She balanced them and opened the glass doors whose lettering identified the offices of Moore and Associates, Ltd. Dumping them on her paper-strewn desk, she took a moment to smooth her form-fitting gray suit jacket over her trim figure. She pulled at her skirt and inspected it for wrinkles. Satisfied, she began stacking her files into a semblance of order.
She was the ‘new girl on the block’, the youngest of Shamon Moore’s team of lawyers, and she always took on more work than was necessary. At first, it was so Shamon Moore would notice her. However, he seemed to do so from the very first day. It wasn’t long before she thought Mr. Moore was casting admiring eyes at her for quite another purpose. That was fine—whatever it took was what she would do to get ahead. She loved her work and believed she was fully qualified in what she thought of as the art of business law.
Shamon was the founder, the head of the firm, and a brilliant magistrate. He had on more than one occasion displayed an affection of sorts towards her. He took the time out to walk her through some of her more difficult cases, and she learned to appreciate his skill. When Mary suddenly realized that he saw her in the role of daughter, she’d immediately switched tactics.
She investigated the history of Moore and Associates and read how over the years Shamon Moore had brought to the law offices he had established many valued, high-end accounts. His unexplained absences were accepted as part of his eccentricities. As of late, however he was scarcely available even by cell phone.
Mary did not quite understand this but was told that his genius was that he didn’t have to be available to his office staff because he handled his major accounts himself. She shrugged it off. She was there to make a name for herself. That was all she needed to concentrate on.
If she were going to make junior partner, she would need to control at least one of his larger accounts and then handle it perfectly. No mistakes. Others at the firm who had seniority no doubt would be ready to step in the first time she slipped. She had an edge. That edge was Shamon’s affection for her.
Mary was more than ambitious—she was driven, and thus, the queen of the Fae had asked Breslyn to keep watch over her interactions with Shamon. He did so from another dimension. She was a wildcard, and her relationship with Shamon could put their plans at risk. Indeed, Breslyn had reported back to the queen that Mary Newton would need monitoring. She might put her nose where it didn’t belong.
She watched the clock because she knew that Shamon Moore was due any moment for a meeting he had scheduled with her. He had an old account he had always handled himself in the past, and she was overjoyed that he had decided to actually put it in her hands. Mary was brimming with pride because Shamon had advised her that he wanted her to fly up to Scotland and meet with his lordship Talbot. This was more than she had hoped for.
She had heard the rumors about Julian Talbot’s wealth. She already knew he was a bachelor. Shamon had recently explained that Lord Julian Talbot owned an exclusive residence in London that needed renovations and revamping. She had the blueprints from the architect Shamon had hired and an estimate that needed his lordship’s approval.
She turned as she heard someone behind her. She smiled. “Mr. Moore … good morning.”
Shamon always blinked when he looked at Mary Newton. He saw Nell, his darling wife. He smiled at her and couldn’t stop himself from taking one of her auburn curls and giving it a playful tug, as though she were a child. It was how he thought of her … saw her. He loved the gold highlights that lit in her hair—again like his Nell’s pretty hair.
Her hazel eyes were bright with expectation. She was now nearly twenty-six years old, and it surprised Shamon that as pretty as she was she was not yet married, but what always stopped him in his tracks was her face. Every time Shamon looked at Mary, he saw Nell coming towards him, making his life sweet …
That was to be expected in some part—she was of course a product, a descendent, of his children. He and Nell had children in their life together, and he had followed the paths his children and their children had taken. Not all of them had thrived. Not all had survived the trials of life. He was
n’t there for all of them. There was one last product of the love he had shared with Nell all those years ago when Lamia was held prisoner in the Druid Realm, and that last descendent, his descendent, was Mary Newton.
She was the last remnant of his life with Nell, and he treasured her.
It was one of the few joys that he could count as pure. “Good morning, Mary dear.” He handed her a Starbucks coffee and a croissant and, as he sat at his desk, indicated she take the seat nearest him. “So then, child, are you ready to leave today for Inverness?”
“I am. I have all the paperwork and the figures in my briefcase, and my flight leaves at two o’clock.”
“Aye, efficient as always. We have you booked at the Park Hotel tonight, and you can rent a car and drive out to MacTalbot Castle tomorrow. I spoke to his lordship this morning, and he will be expecting you tomorrow at ten.” He took up his coffee and bent it towards her. “Now … let us enjoy a cup together, and tell me, Mary, does this put a terrible kink into your social life?”
She smiled, sipped, and shook her head. She knew Shamon Moore wanted her to settle down with someone respectable. She told him what he wanted to hear. “No kinks, in fact … I am seeing someone very nice.” Mary lied with style. “His name is Henry. He is an attorney as well, but he is away on business this week, so this will be good fun.” The lie did not even make her flinch.
“Henry, eh? An attorney? Well I am not sure that is a good thing.” Shamon chuckled.
Shamon relaxed at the thought that she had someone in her life. His mind drifted to another time. Shamon Moore was not quite the villain Maxie believed him to be. Yes, he participated in villainous crimes for the sake of his beast, DuLaine. He had been under her control, but even then, he had been racked with shame.
Shamon and Nell had spent twenty years together before he lost her to the disease of their time—consumption.
Queen Aaibhe had allowed him his time on Earth with his Nell even though it cost him twenty years of aging. He would gladly have lived, and died, with Nell. What he had with Nell was so different than what Lamia meant to him.
Exuberantly Mary waved a hand. “Oh, Mr. Moore, I almost forgot. Yesterday a package came in from Spinner Accounting, and there was a note attached requesting you to review the DuLaine file. I put it right on top of your pile.” She twinkled at him.
“My pile, eh?” Shamon mused.
“Right, then,” Mary said as she got to her feet with her coffee container in hand. She was inundated with work, but here was another huge account. She would love to get her hands on the DuLaine project and become indispensable to him. She could see some reluctance in him as he glanced at the DuLaine file, and hurried to offer, “Perhaps I could help you with that?”
Shamon nearly jumped out of his chair and visibly had to control himself. “No! No, but thank you, Mary. I am afraid that particular account can only be managed by me. The Lady DuLaine will not see anyone else …” His voice trailed off. The very thought of Mary in the same room with Lamia sent a wave of horror through his body.
“I had better get a few things done before I take off for the airport then.”
“Good girl.” Shamon smiled and then added, “Ah, and, Mary, pick up a few nice things for yourself when you are in Inverness … put it on my account.” Shamon slid his card across his desk. “Don’t worry about the cost. I want you to represent this firm in the latest designer clothes.”
“Oh, Mr. Moore—there is no need—”
“There is a need … something pretty. Please, do as I ask.” Softness lined his voice.
“Thank you, sir.” Mary took the card and smiled as she left his office.
Shamon was lost in the past with Nell for the moment. He was dancing with her across their kitchen floor—teaching her to waltz … and their children were clapping their little hands. And then his mind took him to Tir. There he had studied and learned everything he needed to know to be an attorney. The time had passed so swiftly; he could not believe it when they deposited him in London. They presented him with his own offices and a bank account and the fact that at least five years had passed on Earth while he had resided less than six months in Tir!
Once in London the first thing he did was to look for Nell, the young girl he had rescued from Lamia so long ago … by telling Lamia that Nell was dead.
Nell had a small sweet shop she had purchased with the money he had given her five years before. He had saved her from Lamia by lying to Lamia and telling her young Nell had died from loss of blood. Somehow, he had managed to squirrel Nell away and take her to London.
He found Nell just managing to get by. He took her to live with him and established another shop for her right off Bond Street. There, her sweet shop had flourished.
Soon afterwards they were married. They had two girls, and with Nell he felt he had all the joy in the world. Twenty years went by in a flash—until the consumption ravished her, and Nell was gone. His girls were married when the day came, and the queen sent Breslyn, the royal prince, to collect him and bring him back to Faery. He begged the prince to let him stay with his children. He could see that if the prince had a human heart, it certainly would have fissured then for his plight.
He had aged enough, the prince advised him, explaining that he would be needed in another life. The prince, however, at risk to himself, had petitioned the queen on Shamon’s behalf. He arranged for him to be able to visit his daughters and their families twice a human year until their deaths. The prince arranged through illusion to make it appear as though Shamon aged appropriately. He had to watch his children die natural deaths, and the prince stood by him and mourned with him.
The prince ran the Moore Law firm for him while he was in Tir and brought it into this century. Shamon made short annual visits to his law firm as well—until last year when he established himself permanently in London once more and began the aging process humans had to endure.
Shamon sought and found the last of his descendents, this Mary, and offered her a job. He was still a relatively young man considering all the years that had passed. He was sixty, but he scarcely looked forty-five.
Lamia was back in his life, complicating his mind, corrupting his soul with her decadence and her killing. Just what would he do? Would his love for Lamia overrule his word, his promise to the Fae?
Shamon knew that soon, the Realm would request him to tell the beast DuLaine that Julian Talbot was alive and well.
It was going to happen soon—he sensed it.
* * *
“There is no reason for you to be carrying me up these stairs!” Maxie grumbled. She felt intoxicated by their closeness, by his big strong arms wrapped so deliciously around and beneath her butt.
He managed to get her bedroom door open, walked in, unceremoniously dumped her on the bed, and turned without a word to leave her room.
She felt that this was not acceptable behavior. “Hey!” she objected. She clambered off the bed in a show of independence.
He turned back to her and said, “You will remain here and rest.”
He sounded like a drill sergeant towering over her, but she strained her neck and looked right up at him. “I don’t need to be told what to do. I can take care of myself.”
His hand closed firmly and gently on her arm, and his voice was a low-throated growl,
“Since the prince healed you so very nicely I am not concerned about grabbing you and chaining you to your bed, if I must.”
She flushed and glared at him furiously. “You may be lord of the manor, Julian Talbot, but you can’t order me about, and you wouldn’t dare chain me, nor could you.”
“Would I not dare? Could I not manage it? Shall I show you how wrong you are?” He whispered as he took her into his arms, bent her backward towards the bed, and laid her down on her back.
Yup, her mind screamed. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. And he did.
He had her lain out on her bed, and he stretched out over her, at first taking his weight off her with his arms
as he parted her lips with expertise. His tongue made love to hers and took control. His hands moved through her hair, and then his one hand moved down the length of her body, and back up to touch her breast …
She had never felt what she felt in that moment. She wanted to lose herself in his kiss—hell, she was already lost in his kiss. She was sure he felt something. His tongue was doing the tango with hers, and she was electrified. She was sure he had to feel this thing exploding between them. His hands were on her breasts, and the sound that escaped him was low and primal. He was pulling away her torn and bloody cardigan and tank top. She couldn’t stop the small mewling sounds of pleasure that escaped her. She heard his desire, felt his desire, and then … all at once he was up and he was off the bed, backing away and looking at her as though he had just discovered she had the black plague!
Low and hoarse, his voice was scarcely discernable. “Please, Miss Reigate—stay here for now, and I promise to come and get you when we start the protection spell … deal?”
Maxie felt a wave of hurt and confusion, and couldn’t do more than nod. He smiled tentatively towards her. “Besides—you said you needed a shower … now would be a good time …”
“Where are you going?” Maxie found her voice again. She thought, Why is he going is a better question. What—my lips didn’t suit him? She closed her eyes and thought she must have been wrong; he hadn’t felt what she felt. He didn’t enjoy her klutzy kissing … he didn’t want her the way she wanted him.
“I have some things that must be done, and they will take some time—and I want you to lie down and close your eyes for just a little while. Whether you realize it or not, Miss Reigate, your body was in shock, and even though the prince has healed your wound, you need to allow your body, and your mind, to recover from that shock.”
She looked at him. The air between them a moment ago had sizzled. Now the air hung like a thick fog parting them. He was back in control of himself.
