Faerie Fate

by Silver James

  Becca sighed, feeling inordinately foolish. This was 1978 for goodness sake. This was a time for women’s lib, burning bras, and “I Am Woman” rhetoric. It wasn’t politically correct to act like the swooning heroine in some bodice ripper. But there was a nasty little voice in her head that kept whispering, “Aye, but wouldn’t yee like him to rip yer bodice? Yee’d be lovin’ ever bit of it, yeah?”

  Horse and rider finished the course to thunderous applause. Clean round. Four seconds under the time limit. He’d be hard to beat. If she’d been mounted on any horse but Arien, he would have been impossible to beat.

  “Riding a clean round, ladies and gentlemen, is Captain Kieran MacDermot of the Irish Defense Forces on Fenian Warrior.”

  Well, that certainly explained the uniform. Army man. Irish. Dark. Brooding. Yummy. Becca forced her thoughts back to reality. As the captain rode through the gate, he looked straight at her and Becca thought she would melt right there. No man had the right to be that gorgeous. No man had the right to have that much sex appeal. She grinned. That man could seduce the most ardent, man-hating libber and make her ask for seconds. Ask? Hell, he could make her beg.

  Well pleased with himself, Kieran passed by the cailín on the black horse. He’d managed to stay aboard without too much affront to his masculinity. And, the look on the cailín’s face as he’d ridden past was most gratifying. He couldn’t wait until this blasted event was over. He had six weeks of leave coming, and he knew exactly where he was going to spend it. He grinned. And precisely what he was going to do while spending it. Unlike Rory, he didn’t have a cailín at every stop. Now he knew why. He was going to woo this one, win her, and make her his. Kieran’s grin broadened into a smirk. He didn’t even know her name. He was bloody well losing his mind!

  Becca was the last rider. The only clean round belonged to the Irish Army captain. She took a deep breath. Her insides quivered as a tingly spasm ran from the pit of her stomach all the way to her toes at the thought of him. Her knees wanted to clamp together, but horse and saddle prevented them from doing so. She’d laughed when girlfriends had told her of getting off while riding. Now she was grateful there was something to rub against. Oh, my God. I cannot believe he can turn me on by just looking at me. How juvenile am I?

  She reminded herself there was time enough for such thoughts later. Right now, she had a jump-off to win. She patted Ari’s neck and urged him into the arena. She circled, made sure Ari had the correct lead, and then gave him his head. They soared over the first obstacle.

  Kieran had ridden out to the holding area after leaving the arena. The cailín and her horse, the last pair to ride, were announced. Rebecca Miller riding High Meadow Poseidon’s Arien. He dismounted, and led Fen back to the gate. The cailín really was an excellent rider. Her hands and legs were quiet. She stayed balanced. She stayed focused. She let the horse do his best. She rode a clean round.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” the announcer said, “Ms. Miller and Arien had a clean round and were four seconds under the time limit. We have a tie.”

  Becca couldn’t believe it. She tied the big Irishman. As she rode toward the gate, she almost reined Ari to a halt. He was standing there, leaning insolently on the gate, watching her intently. She dragged another one of those quivering breaths into her lungs. This was so not fair. A win would give her enough points to qualify for the Grand Prix. If she could win this event, she was sure the U.S. Equestrian Team would move her up from alternate to team member. She’d dreamed of riding in the Olympics since she’d been a little girl—had trained her whole life for this one moment. This man was not going to jeopardize her chances. She’d just ignore him.

  Kieran almost laughed out loud as he watched the emotions flit across the cailín’s face. That she was as affected by him as he was by her was reassuring. He considered knocking down a rail just to get this thing over with so he could properly introduce himself, and then seduce her at his leisure. Unfortunately, his honor wouldn’t allow it. He was an officer, and though he was Irish, he was gentleman to boot. He wouldn’t throw the competition.

  Becca rode through the gate, determined to ignore the big man. She reined Ari around so they were facing the arena. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she was pleased he seemed to be ignoring her. Good. That meant he had no interest in her.

  His instincts were more finely honed than most soldiers’. His active duty unit was the Sciathán Fianógloch an Airm, the Army Ranger Wing of the Irish Defense Forces. The unit drew its name from the legendary Fenian Warriors of ancient times. Kieran knew she was checking him out and her perusal had stopped at his groin.

  She hadn’t meant to look at him, but since he wasn’t paying attention to her... She took her time looking him up and down, and... Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, she chanted in her head. Was he ever up!

  Slowly, he turned his head and his indigo eyes stared into her cerulean ones. She blushed furiously, and Kieran confirmed her thoughts were as prurient as his own. He grinned unabashedly, cocked an eyebrow, and winked.

  Becca ducked her head, and tried to stifle her mortified groan. Oh, God. He knew exactly what she was thinking. She was mortified at the decidedly sexual direction her thoughts had taken. Unlike most of her peers, Becca had not jumped into the sexual revolution. In fact, she was probably the only twenty-four-year-old virgin in the entire U.S. of A. However, one more look from him, and she might just jump into his arms and demand he take her virginity right here, right now, in front of God and everybody.

  He watched her worry her bottom lip with her teeth again. The subconscious gesture was enough to send his boidín to full attention. Damnation, he was never going to get through this next round. He wanted only to drag her off her horse, find a stall full of new hay, and tup her until neither of them knew their names.

  The course stewards made their adjustments to the obstacles, and the chief judge came over to discuss order with the two riders. Ever gallant, Kieran deferred. “Ladies first,” he offered in a brogue as thick as honey and just as sweet.

  “But I’m not a lady,” Becca retorted before she could stop herself.

  “Then, I’ll go first,” Kieran replied smoothly, flashing a cocky grin.

  He mounted effortlessly, and Becca’s breath caught in her chest. Ohmygosh, omygosh. She chanted the mantra again. She was never going make it. She could actually feel wetness between her legs. She glanced down, hoping it wasn’t visible. Sweat. It’s just sweat.” She didn’t believe a word of it.

  She tried very hard not to watch, but couldn’t help herself. As he rode, she let her imagination have full sway. She pictured him as some ancient warrior, his blue-black hair flying in the wind, a sword at his side. She couldn’t breathe, and got dizzy from the vision she conjured. She almost fell off Ari again.

  “Whoa, cailín,” an amused voice said.

  She glanced down. The good-looking man from the practice ring patted Ari’s shoulder, and the horse whickered. He wore a uniform with riding breeches and boots as well. “You’re with him.” She took a deep lungful of air, then let it out slowly.

  Rory grinned at her. “Aye, cailín, ’tis true. Lieutenant Rory MacDermot at your service.”

  Becca glanced to the rider still in the ring, then back at the man standing next to her stirrup. They certainly didn’t look anything alike. Was MacDermot a common name like Jones or Smith or Miller?

  As if reading her mind, Rory grinned easily at her. “Cousins. I got all the personality, and he got all the brooding good looks.”

  Becca giggled and relaxed. This was what she needed to get her focus back, this harmless flirting and banter. That other, he was too dark, too intense, too...well, just too much of everything.

  Kieran and Fenian once again had a clean round, though they just barely beat the time limit. Becca rode out into the arena before he came through the gate. She couldn’t be anywhere near him and maintain the focus she needed.

  “Watch the turn on number six,” he called to her as they passe
d several feet apart. “’Tis sharp.”

  Becca nodded. She’d been watching him on the course. His horse came off jump number five on a left lead and had about two strides to gather himself, change to a right lead, turn and take the double oxer that was number six. Any but a skillful horse and rider would turn too wide to come square at the fences on six. Becca briefly considered changing leads right before five. She questioned whether Ari would have enough time to gather himself for the tall jump. It was a risky move, especially since five was close to the arena wall and faced a sea of spectators. However, she was a fierce competitor. If it worked, it could shave off enough time she’d win. If it didn’t, she would probably come in second anyway.

  She leaned over Ari’s neck and petted him. “In for a dime, in for a dollar,” she told the big horse.

  Kieran dismounted and stood beside Rory at the gate. They watched silently, knowing this was the make or break round. Becca cleared the first four obstacles, her time was neck and neck with Kieran’s. As they watched her approach jump five, Kieran caught the subtle shift in her weight and watched the big black horse switch leads.

  “Smart.” Her audacious decision impressed him.

  Horse and rider approached the high triple-barrier fence. Becca was in complete control, and Arien launched himself effortlessly. They would clear the fence with little problem. There was a blinding flash, and time clicked into slow motion. The big horse seemed to hang suspended in mid-air, and then he was falling, crashing through the top bar of the fence. That rail splintered, and the rest came crashing down around him. His left front foot hit the ground, and his leg buckled. His body followed, twisting as it plunged. Becca was flung from his back by the force of the fall, and she hit the ground several feet away.

  Pandemonium erupted. Kieran and Rory were through the gate at a dead run. Kieran actually beat the nearest course steward to Becca’s crumpled body. His hands skimmed over her body as he checked for broken bones. Her helmet had been knocked loose, and Kieran carefully removed it. As he’d suspected, she had golden hair shot with silver highlights, and its luxurious mass escaped its bun. Her eyes fluttered, but she remained unconscious.

  ****

  “Not again,” the male said, disgruntled.

  “You worry too much,” the female said.

  “Well, he took so long to find her, ’twouldn’t do to lose her now,” the male groused.

  “He’ll bind her, give her the Knot, and all will be well in our world,” the female declared.

  “S’cuse me,” Becca interrupted.

  Silence.

  “Hello?”

  Still silence.

  ****

  Becca moaned and slowly opened her eyes.

  “Don’t move, Becca,” her hunk in green uniform commanded.

  “Ari,” she groaned. “Is Arien okay?”

  Kieran glanced over his shoulder. Rory held the horse and checked him over as the event veterinarian, along with a couple of paramedics, ran up. “He’s up and movin’, cailín. I think he’ll be fine. ’Tis you I’m concerned about. Just lie still ’til the medics check you over.”

  Becca smiled at his worried, blue eyes. “I’m fine,” she asserted. “Guess this means you win.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Kieran dismissed the idea out of hand. “What happened?”

  Becca screwed her eyes shut, trying to remember around the headache pounding her temples. There was the ghost of a bright flash behind her eyelids. “Flash,” she finally replied. “I think from a camera.”

  “What bloody idiot would use a flash camera at an event like this?” he growled.

  “A bloody stupid one,” Rory responded at his shoulder. “Yer beastie will be fine accordin’ to the vet,” he added.

  “Thank goodness.” Becca closed her eyes and bit back a groan. She peeked out from under her long, dark lashes. “Can I get up now?”

  “Not ’til the medics give their consent,” Kieran asserted.

  He moved back to give them room, and found he had to bite back a huge dose of jealousy to keep it in check. He didn’t like the idea of another man touching Becca one bit. In a few moments, the paramedics cleared her, and Kieran took their place at her side.

  “Now?” she asked him, cocking an eyebrow.

  He gave her a little room, but not much. His body wanted to crowd hers, to touch, to savor and taste. He tried to get a grip on his emotions. She could have been killed or severely injured, yet he could only think of one thing—getting her into a nice soft bed where they could spend the next six weeks tupping and getting to know one another.

  He helped her to a sitting position, and then stood to pull her to her feet. She swayed against him for a brief moment, and white-hot heat burned a hole in his skin where they’d made contact. Her gaze jerked up and stared into his eyes, mesmerized. Kieran smiled at her. “Aye, yee feel it, too,” he whispered.

  Becca was unhurt. The crowd applauded, seemingly captivated by the fact that her staunchest competition had been the first one to reach her side. Kieran paid them no attention, and she suspected he’d be bemused by the dreamy looks many of the women cast his direction as he and Rory escorted her to the gate.

  The vet and a steward had already led Arien out of the arena, and Becca was anxious to check on him. If her head didn’t hurt so badly and it weren’t so undignified, she’d have run to the holding area. As it was, she was awfully glad Kieran and Rory walked beside her.

  The three of them moved through the tunnel from the arena. The chief judge and the chief steward were talking loudly to a man with a large assortment of camera equipment dangling around his neck.

  “There’s yer bloody idiot,” Rory pointed out.

  Kieran took off like a shot. He stalked up to the man, grabbed his arm, spun him around, and landed a haymaker squarely on the man’s nose. The photographer went down like he’d been poleaxed. Kieran glared down at him, his eyes the color of the North Sea in December. The man on the ground muttered something about the police and wanting to sue.

  “Yee bloody well deserved it, yee friggin’ bugger. Yee want to come after me, yee go right ahead, but I guarantee there’s more where that came from,” Kieran snarled.

  Becca stood there gaping. A very secret feminine center buried deep within her relished the thought that this man was willing to fight for her. One look at his face would tell even the most stupid of people that he was a warrior. Most smart men wouldn’t be dumb enough to take him on.

  “Close yer mouth, cailín,” Rory chuckled. “Absolutely overwhelming, ’tisn’t he?”

  “That’s the understatement of the year.”

  When Kieran rejoined them, they followed the vet and the steward as they led Arien toward the stables. Walking side-by-side, Becca’s arm brushed Kieran’s and the next thing she knew, he was holding her hand. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if holding his hand was something she’d done a hundred times before. Her body sought every excuse it could find to brush against his as they walked. His did the same.

  The vet checked Arien again in his stall, pronounced him fit, but as a precaution, he wasn’t to be moved or ridden for several days. “Use some liniment on his legs to help with the swelling and stiffness,” the vet instructed before he left.

  “Won’t be a problem,” Kieran told the vet. “Becca will be tied up for several days. She won’t have the time to be ridin’ him.”

  She cut her eyes at him, her cheeks flushing bright red when she realized what he was implying.

  “Well, yee will be,” he whispered in her ear.

  His warm breath against her neck sent a shiver all the way down to her toes.

  Becca’s parents and grandfather hovered at the stable door, along with Rory and Neal. Kieran chafed at the restraint the crowd put on his designs. He planned to spirit Becca away, and it would be several days before they’d return to the world.

  He introduced himself to her family, told them the outrageous lie that he and Becca were old friends from
the circuit with plans to get reacquainted after this meet. Becca didn’t deny it. Kieran gave her no chance to get away. He snagged her hand, and pulled her toward the stable door. If they didn’t get somewhere private soon, he swore he’d take her right there in an empty stall.

  “Hey, cousin,” Rory called after him, grinning from ear to ear. “You’ll be needin’ the keys.” He tossed the keys to their rental car to Kieran, who caught them deftly with one hand. He watched as Kieran hurried Becca out, the two of them all but trotting to the parking lot. He turned to the older man who’d come up beside him. “He’s absolutely gobsmacked by her,” he chuckled.

  “Aye,” Neal agreed.

  Rory sighed. “Makes yee want to weep for joy, doesn’t it? What babies the two of them will make.” Becca’s parents stared at Rory, shocked by his statement. The cocky Irishman flashed them an impudent grin. “Trust me. Kieran’s an honorable man. He’ll be weddin’ her before they make those babies.”

  “I should hope so,” Becca’s mother sputtered.

  Once Kieran had Becca safely in the front seat, and he was behind the wheel, he let out a long breath.

  “What’s your hurry?”

  Kieran grabbed her hand and placed it on his groin. “If I don’t have yee soon, cailín, I’ll burst for fair certain.”

  When Becca realized what she was touching, her eyes widened. He was hard and huge, and she very suddenly wanted to be flat on her back with him between her legs.

  “How fast can you drive?”

  “Fast enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They barely made it inside Kieran’s hotel room, before his mouth descended on hers. As soon as they stepped off the crowded elevator and the doors whispered shut, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, his lips claiming hers. All the way down the hallway, her tongue dueled with his, until he kissed her so hard, he sucked the air right out of her lungs. Panting, Becca clung to him as they stumbled through the door. He kicked it shut with one foot while he stripped off her riding jacket. She fumbled with the buttons on his uniform jacket. He swatted her hands away.