Love of Her Lives

by Clare, Sharon

  “Have I told you how fine you are to me, m’eudail,” Calum said to his wife, drawing her back from the window against him. When she’d related the Gaelic endearment to him, he’d taken to it fondly assuring her that she was the finest of treasures. He wrapped her in his arms and leaned forward. His jaw grazed her temple as they stood still as the night.

  “Yes, but I’ll never tire of it.” She leaned back to feel the length of him against her.

  “Then come to bed and I’ll tell you again.”

  It was their wedding night, six months from the day she’d arrived in Scotland. She’d not left. The power of love had quickly bound them unremittingly. Her family had flown in a week ago for the wedding.

  Calum pulled a pin from her hair releasing a curled strand to her shoulder, and then he pushed it aside and kissed her neck. One kiss and she trembled. Would there ever come a day when his touch did not tantalise her?

  “Did you notice my mother with your father?” he asked.

  “You mean that dance?” Beth laughed. “I would guess that it’s been a long time since my father has pressed up against a woman like that. I don’t want to even think about what they’re doing now.”

  “Ah, no. I have something else for you to think on. How do we get this dress off?”

  “Undo the clasp above the zipper there, do you see it?”

  He took his time finding it. The tip of his tongue drew up fine tremors from under her skin in the same way he’d always done. And always was a long time. Slowly, he made his way to the clasp.

  “I’ve got something sensuous and decadent to rub you all over,” he whispered, his lips on her neck, “and it smells good too — oil of jasmine. My sister gave it to me.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Aye, she wants to make sure I treat you well. She likes you.”

  “I can’t imagine ever complaining, Calum.” It just hadn’t felt right to call him Colin.

  “‘Tis my intent to keep a smile on your face. Now take off that dress and get you over to that bed, woman.”

  He’d dropped their bags just inside the door and went to retrieve the oil. “That’s strange. I know it’s in here. I remember putting it in the outside pocket.”

  His clothes piled up on the floor as he searched. She was about to tell him to forget the oil when an oddly warm but familiar breeze blew through the room, ruffling every flimsy thing to a flutter.

  She didn’t need to see who had appeared behind her. The look on Calum’s face said it plainly enough.

  “Come off the bed, lass, and keep behind me.” He crossed the room.

  Beth slipped down and turned to see the white–haired elf standing fully erect, eyes flaring gold fire.

  “It’s okay, Calum, this is Finn. I told you about him, remember?”

  Calum’s eyes narrowed as he either pulled forth the memory of Beth telling him of Finn or a memory from his own past.

  “Hello, Bethia.” Finn’s gaze swept her half–naked body up and down. “My timing is good, you’ve still got clothes on.”

  A low growl sounded in Calum’s throat. “I’ll ask you to keep your eyes off my wife.” He stepped forward, flicked a sheet from the bed, and draped Beth.

  “Is it a challenge you’re wanting then?” Finn asked Calum, who eyed the elf with distaste and provocation.

  “No!” Beth interjected.

  “Why don’t you state your business,” Calum said.

  “I liked him better a thousand years ago,” Finn confided to Beth.

  “I liked you better before you ogled my wife.”

  “She wouldn’t be your wife if not for me,” Finn pointed out.

  “Ah …” Calum appeared to think better of what he was going to say. “It’s true, I suppose. But from what I heard, you are not innoce — ”

  “Calum.” Beth sent him a sharp look. This was her wedding night, and she didn’t want it becoming a Finn–versus–Calum embroilment. “We don’t want to take any more of Finn’s time. Let him tell us why he’s here.”

  “Your wife has good sense. You could learn a thing or two.”

  Finn’s eyes flickered with amusement, Beth noticed, relieved. He promptly disappeared, quickly reappearing on the other side of Beth, his fingers perched on her shoulders. The message was clear — no matter how valiant Calum’s effort to protect his wife, Finn had the upper hand.

  Calum didn’t take the bait, but instead crossed his arms over his chest and kept quiet.

  “You’re a quick study,” Finn said. “‘Tis why I like you, and I do, warrior, so you’ve no need to be defensive. I’ve not invaded your wedding chamber with ill intent, but to wish you well in this marriage. While you’ve no memory of it, your unions have carried a heavy share of turmoil. Still, you have persevered to yet another beginning. I am here to bestow upon you blessings from your neighbors, the Fair Folk. There will be no tragedy in your lives and your cup will be full evermore and,” he spun Beth around like a top to face him, “in answer to your wonderings, Bethia, his kiss will always tantalise you in the finest way.” He swept Beth back into Calum’s arms. “Don’t think ill of the trickster. We had fun together, no? Warrior?”

  Finn winked at Calum and held his eyes in a strong stare. Calum’s own eyes widened.

  “I remember you now,” Calum recalled. “You assigned three tasks. You …” He glanced back and forth between Beth and Finn. A sheepish look crossed his face. “Never mind.”

  “Yes, wise. Best left unsaid,” Finn suggested. “As I was saying, do accept these blessings, a wedding gift from the noble trickster. Don’t disappoint me. Remember, Bethia, fodder for the universe.”

  Finn glided back, a smile curved his thin lips. He bowed gracefully, his long white hair dusted the floor, and then he rose and tossed Calum the missing jasmine oil. With a silver tinkle and standard puff the trickster was gone.

  “Well, that was brief and all the better for it,” said Calum.

  Beth let out a short breath as he pulled her into his arms.

  “Fodder for the universe?” he asked.

  “Three tasks, was it?” she countered.

  “Let’s leave it for later.”

  “Good idea.”

  “We’re very lucky, you know.” He rested his forehead against hers. “A Fae blessing is nothing to scoff at. And don’t think it won’t come to pass, the tantalising part, I mean.”

  “Is that so?”

  He kissed her long and deep until her body deliciously purred from tip to toe. Tantalise her he would, till the end of their days and he wouldn’t stop there. Beth wiggled out of the sheet and led Calum to the bed.

  Scoff at Finn’s blessing? Not a chance. She didn’t scoff easily any longer. Beth had never fully landed back in the real world, nor did she intend to.

  The delicate scent of jasmine blossomed around her sigh as her husband’s hands moved over her skin. His eyes were magic as they drew her into the promise of everlasting, unencumbered love. This was the real world and here in this place with her very own warrior, she would stay.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank Jennifer Lawler and all the staff at Crimson Romance who had a hand in this novel and in making my publishing experience swift and smooth.

  I also want to thank my critique partners: Sherry Isaac, Urve Tamberg, Carole-Ann Vance, Siobhan Minty, Jennifer Filipowicz, Linda Cassidy and Geoff Weaver for their honesty, constancy and support.

  One more thank you to Brian Henry for his editing expertise in the early stages of Love of Her Lives and for suggesting Calum needed more attitude.

  It’s a long road to publication, and I’m also thankful for the endearing support of my blog partner Carole St. Laurent and to Gloria Richard for providing the necessary giggles and to my wonderful family and friends who have listened to my story pr
oblems and dreams for a long time now. I wouldn’t want to do this without you all!

  More From This Author

  (From Rhapsody)

  The promise of amusement brightened Finn’s mood as he leaned against a bamboo beam where orchids hung in terracotta pots, perfuming the air at the Caribbean resort. Veiled from mortal sight, he watched a woman’s sleek black hair whip across her bare shoulders as she danced. So relaxed. So at ease. So content in her packaged life. Not a hint of suspicion her vacation would soon take a turn. Her oblivion curled his Elvin lips.

  The perfect subject.

  For a human, she had a body that bid his gaze to each curve, skin that shone like wet pearls. He’d watched her languish daily on a beach chair to escape into her books. Once, her cheeks had flushed when she’d read an erotic scene — a blindfolded heroine anticipating the feel of the hero’s hands on her thighs, spreading, exposing, touching. Isabelle had glanced around as if anyone other than Finn had the power to read her mind.

  Enjoy your last dance, princess.

  He saw her clearly. Isabelle Carson had taken a self-imposed vow of celibacy. A mindset she’d have to overcome — tonight — if she intended to stay in the human world.

  Finn had chosen the male subject, another fine specimen, months ago. Jonathan Raynor, a man who didn’t acknowledge his emotional void, a man who didn’t recognize his own need for one good woman.

  Before he could set the boundaries for the game, he needed Isabelle to leave the dance floor. He knew just the right prompt to send her to the beach.

  The telltale wind of another elf’s approach curled against his neck. Who had found him? The waft spiraled down his back and blew through the ends of his waist-length ivory hair. Finn’s chest constricted and quashed the flow of energy through his veins.

  King Oberon appeared beside him. The king, no less. Finn swallowed and forced the quivers that threatened his composure to settle down.

  Formidable as always, the king pierced Finn with a gaze that would make an elf of lower caste fall to his knees. “You’ve decided to provoke the mortals despite my warning to stay out of human minds.”

  Denial was futile. “Only for our greater good,” Finn retorted, once again. How many times would he need to explain simple concepts? “Just because the council didn’t agree with my theory, doesn’t make it less valid.”

  “They did not disagree that humans are over-populated, all-consuming, and self-destructive. And they did not disagree that the quest for true love is not a priority in human lives.”

  “Oh?” Small concessions as they were from the council was progress. Frustrated by opposition that belittled his intelligence, Finn had left the council meeting abruptly when it became apparent he had no supporters.

  “But, Finn, you truly can’t expect the council to agree that the energy from a few billion humans, no matter the degree, can affect us in Alfheim.”

  The king didn’t see it. The council didn’t see it. Even though the human dimension was a mere hair’s width removed from the Alfar, no Alfarian believed the negative energy humans generated could weaken an elf, any more than they understood energy from human love could be used to enhance Alfarian powers.

  Finn looked into the king’s cobalt blue eyes. “If that is the case, then I ask that you grant me leave from the council. Give me time with the humans to gather the proof I need. Give me twenty of their human years to conduct my study.”

  The king let go a snort. “Leave you to play games with the humans?” His gaze traveled over the sea of dancers. “Do you see a miserable face out there, Finn? Humans love their holidays, yet they allow themselves little leisure. No wonder so few find true love. Create. Destroy. Over and over. No one understands them. How could you have insight enough into the ways of these creatures to pair them with their true mates?”

  Finn had watched humans for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know why he was entertained by them when most Alfarians viewed them as inconsequential. Centuries ago, he’d started to see the energy that swirled around them, how the color of the energy changed dependent on their thoughts, how love surpassed all energies, even hatred. “I read their minds.”

  King Oberon drew in a short breath.

  Finn carried on before the king could protest. “Humans don’t see themselves, they don’t understand their own needs, so how can they determine what they need in a mate? By instigating more love into their world, I serve both our realms, and I have the means to prove it. The matchmaking service I will provide will be faultless.” Practically. There’d be human hearts broken here and there, terribly difficult to avoid, but he served the greater good, and did he request compensation? Never. “I will tell no one I have the king’s approval for my work, unless you wish acclaim when I pool my results for the council.”

  “You have five human years, Finn. I want reports annually.”

  Finn bit back the exclamation that five years was nothing. He worked alone. He had to find subjects, devise games, measure responses, tally results. But he also knew when to push and when to wait for another day. He drew a deep breath that mushroomed his chest.

  The king wasn’t finished. “I trust you’ve curbed your tendency to indulge them.”

  Finn’s chest deflated.

  “I wouldn’t call it a tendency.” He’d paid a hefty price for those mishaps. “And those humans thought me a trickster, so I doubt they felt indulged.” But it was fruitless to explain human habits to Alfarians. “I desire nothing other than the time to test a dozen or so variables.” Which factors unleashed the greatest passion between two mates? This game would test sexual boundaries.

  “Your credibility is at stake, Finn. I wouldn’t forget that.”

  King Oberon disappeared without a goodbye.

  Finn knew what was at stake. When he’d tapped the force behind the most passionate love, no longer would his genius be called lunacy. No longer would his isolation be called defeat.

  An instant later, Finn appeared on the beach under palm fronds that cast long black shadows over the sand. He watched his male subject halt at the shoreline and stand frozen even when a wave brushed his sandals. Alone for a moment, Jonathan glanced toward the Italian restaurant, as if he controlled his destination.

  Finn was the master of the night, Jonathan and Isabelle mere players. Power surged in his veins — there was nothing finer.

  He cast the Alfarian spell to begin the game.