Spellbound-Legend

by Claudy Conn

“Oh … I won’t be able to leave until the day after tomorrow. I have a court date for one of our clients.”

  “Then the day after tomorrow will be fine.” Lamia was already bored and ready to put the phone down.

  “Thank you. Yes, I will see you then.” Mary Newton felt giddy with excitement. How had this happened? Maybe her ladyship was just an odd duck? Maybe she just ran hot and cold as part of her nature? She wanted to clap her hands. Mary was sure this was just what she needed, a social entrée to Mr. Moore’s private world.

  Breslyn found it disturbing on a level he didn’t want to contemplate. Matters on Tir were in overdrive, and he was a bit concerned that Ete might rush in and get hurt. He had seen something in her glittering eyes. However, this situation with Mary and the beast would need monitoring as well. He damn well had his Fae hands full!

  The question remained, what would Shamon think of this new development?

  * * *

  Maxie had showered and changed into a really sexy white silk knit sweater with a scoop neck that was very flattering. She brushed her long black hair until it fell almost the way she liked it around her shoulders. Her jeans fit her nice and snug in all the right places, and she was well satisfied with her appearance until she turned to find Julian strolling through her door.

  Oh! That was the word that came to mind. He took her breath away … literally. She had to stand and just stare. His black layered hair framed his movie star face. His sinfully tantalizing lips were drawn in a come hither curve. He wore Armani like he had been born into it. The Armani was a denim shirt tucked into his faded jeans, and it displayed his massive shoulders and a wide, hard chest. Over the denim shirt he wore an unbuttoned casual black leather vest. His faded tight jeans displayed his muscular thighs and long legs. Black leather Gucci boots completed the picture. He had the man from another century going on in just the right today outfit!

  It occurred to Maxie that this sensual and thrilling man was hers. The thought made her feel a wave of excitement through her veins.

  He was on her almost as soon as he looked her over. He had her butt in his wide hands and was drawing her against him as he whispered, “I want to rip your clothes off and take you here and now.” He kissed her deeply. “I want to fuck you again and again and again, Maxie. I can’t get enough. I want to ram myself inside you and never leave…”

  She stopped him with a slender finger to his lips, thinking that even the horrible four-letter word sounded like a love spell from him. It was full of imagery and sensual promise. She could feel his male hardness rubbing against her and almost begged him to do just that. His other hand moved up to fondle her full breast. Her body started making demands.

  “If you feed me … then there is no saying what I might let you do afterwards,” she managed on a hoarse note. They had not eaten lunch or dinner, and she knew they were both starving.

  “Ah Maxie …” He stroked her nipples heedless of the sweater. She could feel her knees start to buckle. She had to get control. She needed food. Hunger won the moment.

  “Hungry—food!” She laughed, and then quickly before she gave herself into his hands she managed to shove him away. “We skipped lunch. No tea. No dinner. Breakfast is a definite do or die.”

  “Oh, I rather think we had lunch, high tea, and then quite a scrumptious dinner. Do you not recall, my love?” His eyes were a wicked glint of tempting blue gems. He reached for her again, caught her, and pulled her close by her butt.

  She didn’t want to stop him. Her stomach called for food, but her heart said, Food will wait. She felt totally wanton and addicted to him. She let him slip off her sweater. She helped him with her jeans and stepped out of them when they dropped to the floor. His hands were on her butt, playing, teasing—off went her little red thongs. Bra … undone, gone … his mouth on her nipples …

  Later, much later after they showered together, Maxie quickly ran a brush through her hair, threw her clothes on, and started to leave his room, calling out to him that she would meet him downstairs. She didn’t get far. He had been drying himself off and staring at her.

  She was ravishing, he thought as his eyes devoured. She turned and saw him standing there only a few feet away, totally naked and coming for her.

  “Aye, Maxie-love … downstairs it is, for I have a notion to have you by the fireplace …”

  Does his hard-on never subside? she thought as she ran out of the room.

  * * *

  The prince shifted back to the palace grounds and found Ete standing quietly waiting for his return. Again, she was his sister’s friend, his mind pounded in his ears. She was a wee, untried beauty, it shouted in his face. He should shield her from the likes of himself—from court intrigue. However, the queen had thrown them together, and there wasn’t much he could do about that.

  The prince had a plan. He wanted to trap Gaiscioch into showing his hand and giving himself away. They couldn’t wait for the ancient Fae to make a mistake, as the queen wished. The prince believed they had to lead him into that mistake.

  The queen wanted proof. She wasn’t going to get any without action. The prince was intent on giving her that action. He wasn’t concerned with rules and regulations. There were greater dangers ahead than antagonizing his fellow Council members. What he needed to do was corner Gais and taunt him into a confessing something, anything, and then he would have him.

  Damn Gais to all eternity—Breslyn cursed under his breath. He knew the old warrior for the hot-tempered schemer that he was. He believed that under the right circumstances, Gais would spit out his intentions. If Breslyn threatened him with the Dagda weapon, Gais would no doubt call for one of his own, and although Gais had no right to a death Hallow, Breslyn was sure that he had one or two squirreled away.

  During a physical encounter, Breslyn believed he could goad him into revealing his traitorous plans. Gaiscioch would have no idea that the Council would be watching from another dimension. He knew it would be tricky, and that he would have his hands full, but he was confidant that he would be able to taunt Gais enough to confess, and then he meant to run the villain through.

  A complicated plan depending on too many ifs, but he couldn’t see any other choice. He would have to be careful with its execution and secrecy. He would have to exclude any members he knew to be in Gaiscioch’s circle.

  “Damn you, Gais, you bastard, your time is done!” The prince whispered this on the wind before he walked over to take Ete’s extended hand and put it to his lips. He held her close as he shifted to the central hall of the palace. There he began his probe and saw Gaiscioch standing alone in the queen’s private chamber. “Bloody Hell! What in Danu is he doing there?”

  “Who … what … where?” Ete was anxious, and she reached out for him, but he was already shifting off without her. He meant to leave her safe within the palace walls.

  He arrived in the queen’s chamber just in time to hear and see Gaiscioch using an incantation to remove the Sword of Lughnassa and the Golden Chain of Balor from the queen’s sealed cabinet.

  Startled, Gaiscioch spun around and saw the prince coming towards him. His cover, he knew, was definitely blown. The Council would believe the prince’s account of this—of that there was no doubt.

  Breslyn was stunned at Gais’s smirk. Emotion flooded his body, and instead of shifting to stay him in place, he took two hard, angry strides towards the villain. Thus, Gais had that fraction of a moment to steal the queen’s ancient Hallows and shift out.

  Breslyn was shocked immobile. What had he done? More to the point, what had he neglected to do? He was a fool…

  And there was Ete. He had left her all alone and he hadn’t thought it out; if he had he might have realized that she had plans of her own.

  ~ Twenty-four ~

  BRESLYN STOOD BEFORE his queen and hung his head. “Forgive me … I was not in time and did not use the best judgment to stop Gaiscioch.”

  The long oak table stretched out before the prince and his queen. All Counc
il member eyes watched them intensely. His harried entrance was not acceptable Council etiquette, but at the moment, he didn’t give a damn.

  Aaibhe held a branch of mistletoe and stroked it as she scanned his face. He could see that she was already in high temper. Breslyn felt he had let the traitor slip through his fingers.

  Each Fae elder was tense as they waited for the queen to speak. And then she began.

  “Apparently I have made a serious enemy. A Fae Council elder who has long sat beside me at Court. A Fae I thought a friend and one who has often spoken words of devotion to our Seelie Court, our Seelie way of life here on the Isle of Tir, and to me personally—has betrayed us. I will name him so that none may wonder who this traitor is.” She paused and glanced at each of the twelve members seated in the High Court Chamber. “It is Gaiscioch.” Her voice was that of many and held all spellbound until she released them. She waited for the gasps and the sudden exclamations to filter around the long table. She watched two members—two of Gais’s circle, not elders, but two that had not earlier been suspected of dissension. The two gazed at one another with trepidation.

  She allowed them to see her interest in them and watched as they lowered their eyes. She read the abject terror on their faces, for they knew and understood the penalty for treason against her.

  “Indeed … Gaiscioch, it appears, has never been able to accept the fact that we have a treaty with humans that requires respect. He found it difficult to relinquish the world to humans he felt unfit to survive.” She gave those around the table a long, somber gaze. “However, we made a world of our own. We thrive here … we honor the pact we made with the humans and no longer involve ourselves in their petty lives! Gais’s actions have surpassed allowable grievances. He has broken Fae law on many levels. He has gone so far as to threaten with action most foul the lives of high Druid priests under our Fae protection for their services to us.” She let it sink in and then moved over to her two suspect members and touched them with the mistletoe. They cringed in their seats, and she proceeded by pointing the mistletoe at Breslyn. “Speak, my Prince.”

  He waved a fist, and his eyes were dark with fury. “I have just come from our queen’s chambers. I witnessed him stealing both the Spear of Lughnassa and the Chain of Balor from our queen’s private cabinet.”

  He allowed the sudden buzz and outraged calls to subside before he continued, “I thought I had him … but he shifted out before I realized. I did not act quickly enough.” He looked directly at the Council. “I should have expected this … I knew what he was about, and still … I did not think he would attempt such open treachery. He escaped me.”

  “Impossible! How could he know … Breslyn, he would have to know the incantation to get into my Hallows cabinet.” The queen was distressed. Her gaze swept her Council members as though she blamed them all for this latest treachery.

  “Easy enough for Gais to discover over the years, my Queen. He had but to do a little research. We were better served when it was hidden amongst your chosen humans.” Bres was in a fit of temper and impatient as well. He wanted to collect the Trackers and go after him, but he needed the queen’s orders first. “After all, Gais has been around … almost as long as y—” He caught himself in time. The prince never mentioned a female’s age.

  No one dared move. No one dared speak, until one of the queen’s most devoted elder Council members stood and gravely shouted, “A cold, eternal death to the traitor! Call for the Royal Trackers!”

  “Aye—the Trackers!” The call exploded amongst the Council members.

  The queen held up her hand, “Quiet … Ete is sending an image of herself to me … I will relay it to you all …”

  The scene Ete displayed for the queen, who transferred it from her mind to the room, came in a haze of faded colors. It came as a 3-D film, and they could see Ete standing there in the palace where the prince had left her. She was quietly listing the steps of her plan to the queen. She shifted to a large room—Gais’s study in his estate home—and she whispered, “My Queen, I sense Seelie Relics … perhaps Unseelie Relics … here in this room.”

  The queen’s face was rigid. This was forbidden. How had Gaiscioch accomplished all this under her nose? “Come to Council chambers at once, my child.”

  “Please a moment longer, my Queen. When I was with Gais the last time, I got a picture of a particular Relic that we must retrieve.”

  They all watched as Ete went to a desk and ran her hand over it. “Here, it is here!” She opened the locked door without effort. Ete’s magic was powerful, and what she held up for them all to see was indeed a prized Relic. It was the Stone of Fal! It was a Relic that was said to have the power of compulsion.

  “Make her come back now.” Breslyn had taken a step towards her image. He knew that Ete could only project to the queen. She wouldn’t see or hear him.

  “Listen to me, Ete,” the queen started to say, but it was too late.

  Gaiscioch walked into the room and went towards her, his face contorted; the sneer that crossed his handsome face promised danger. His voice was low, threatening, and yet oddly soft. “Ah, it is the pretty Ete … of course.” His strong, large hand already held her arm as he chanted the words in the ancient Danu tongue. She was frozen in place, unable to move or shift out of the room. “I should have known. You are after all, the queen’s cousin. I flattered myself that your interest was youthful infatuation. Well, well, it is time for you to grow up.”

  The prince realized at once that Gaiscioch did not know that he was being watched by others. “My Queen?” he said in an agonized voice.

  “Yes … go,” the queen ordered at once.

  The prince shifted to Gaiscioch’s chambers, but the traitor already had Ete and shifted out. The prince put his fists heavenward and bellowed a gut-wrenching sound.

  His queen called him back to chambers and touched him gently. “Stand by me, Breslyn.”

  He stood, sword drawn and ready and almost immediately the queen’s elegant form began to fade. All knew she was projecting an astral depiction of herself elsewhere and her physical form would be most vulnerable during that time. They all stared at Breslyn, who had the death sword up and a sneer that spoke violence directed at all.

  The room full of elders was up in arms. Breslyn was sick to his core. If only he had captured Gais, Ete would be safe. He had to get to Ete. He had to. It was a driving need. It went beyond thought. He scarcely heard the rush of shouting going on in the room. What he felt was self-blame.

  The queen had projected herself to the Stadium of the Trackers. The stadium was where the Corinthians that made up the League of Royal Trackers spent their long days indulging in matches of wrestling, fighting, and other athletic feats. It was where they enjoyed gymnastics, track, and many of the sports the humans enjoyed. Their stadium was where they put on exhibitions of their athletic prowess. It had been a long time since they were needed to track a fellow Fae. They were the queen’s own guard. They were her trackers, and loyal to her alone.

  She returned to her physical form and to the Council chambers. At her side was a tall, angular, physically conditioned ancient. His long silver-blonde hair fell to his waist. He wore an onyx and silver torque that depicted his noble bloodline and service to his queen. His ancient eyes were silvery iridescent with black, cold centers. He was Nuad, chief of the Trackers. He had trained Breslyn throughout his youth, and he was the prince’s dear friend.

  “Report, Nuad, for all my Council to hear.” The queen stood regally, but the prince was still shaking with anger.

  Nuad spoke in a low, vibrant, almost calming voice. He was somber and momentarily very stunned. It grieved him that a Fae would betray his own queen. It grieved him that an ancient Fae would kidnap a wee Fae princess, cousin to the queen, a Fae scarcely old enough to mate. But that was what his initial tracking had already confirmed.

  Nuad gazed at the Council and then reported: “Gaiscioch the Warrior of Old has stolen our Seelie Hallows—the Spear of Lu
ghnassa, the Chain of Balor—and has the Stone of Fal. But most heinous of all, he has captured and taken against her will the young Princess Ete of the queen’s bloodline.” He put his right fist to his chest in the traditional filial show. “I will go with my brethren and find them!” He bowed his head, ready to depart.

  The queen reached for his hand and made him look up to her. “At once, Nuad … Ete is not only of my bloodline … she has my very deep affection as well. I want her returned unharmed.”

  “So it shall be done!” the Tracker announced as he once more bowed his head to his queen.

  “Nuad … I am with you, but make no mistake—you find, I destroy,” the prince growled with feeling. He felt as though his mind were on fire. He felt his fists clenching and unclenching. He should have kept her close. He should have realized she would try and help. How could this have happened? He wanted to kill Gais with his own hands. It was too bad that a Fae could only be killed by the Hallows. He called for his Dagda Club. It would severely harm, and his sword would kill. He wanted to make Gais suffer before he ended him.

  Nuad looked to his queen for confirmation of this, received it, and nodded to the prince, and they were off.

  * * *

  May first—the Beltaine ritual and what it meant—hung over them. Maxine and Julian weren’t on horseback as she had hoped but in a brand new, olive green jeep. Apparently Julian had not only picked up supplies during his trip to Inverness but a jeep as well.

  The jeep was equipped with four-wheel drive, and since there was only a narrow bridle path leading to the dolmans they had an open-air, bumpy ride. Did Maxie care? Noooo. Julian couldn’t seem to stop reaching for her hand, reaching to stroke her face, hold her shoulder … and she would bend into him, sigh with pleasure, and close her eyes. His touch was like magic.

  They had the MacTalbot Standing Stones in sight when it came to her on the breeze, like a whisper—and it warned. It was a feminine voice she had never heard before. A female Fae was softly saying her name, telling her she was Princess Ete. Something was wrong. Something in Tir was terribly wrong.