by Anne Manning
"Oh. How did you manage...?"
"To survive?" he finished for her. "I can fly. Remember?"
"Oh, right." Annabelle's chuckle drew out, extended into a jaw-cracking yawn. A heavy blanket of exhaustion settled over her.
"Sleep, darlin'. We'll soon be in Connacht, and we can find a place to light for the evening." He took her hand as he spoke, squeezing gently.
With his reassuring words, Annabelle stopped fighting and drifted to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
'Tis welcome you are to Killis, County Roscommon. Seat of the fairy king of Connacht, Finnvarra.
The bright green, clover-shaped sign brought a smile to Gaelen's lips.
"Here we are," Gaelen whispered to Annabelle, who snored softly, her head resting on his shoulder. "And here's a B&B. Convenient, isn't it? Just a little while longer," he promised and dropped a kiss on her hair.
He pulled off the street and onto the shoulder of the road in front of a narrow two-story house. A coat of whitewashed mud daub gleamed in the moonlight. Windows reflected the light, shining Irish eyes in the skeletal face the house appeared to be. Even the thatched roof added to the impression, neatly trimmed as a fresh haircut.
Gaelen chuckled at his fancies and gently moved Annabelle so he could get out. "Be right back, darlin'."
"Okay." Her muttered reply was almost inaudible, as she snuggled against the leather of her seat.
Gaelen approached the front door. As his knuckles rapped against the wood, his fairy soul recognized it as rowan. He frowned. That was odd. People normally didn't use sacred wood for doors.
The door swung open. Expecting to see a welcoming face on the other side, he was surprised to see no one. The heavy door rocked fully open, cracking against the wall behind it.
Feeling the presence of magic, Gaelen stepped back and instinctively closed his mind, shielding himself. Unfortunately, his protection also kept him from knowing whoever--or whatever--was on the other side of the door.
"Come in, good sir. My home is honored to welcome you."
Gaelen stepped over the threshold, wondering who would know the old welcome, but more importantly, who would know his true nature and welcome him in this way.
An old woman sat by the fire. "Come, sir, come. I pray you take no offense that an old woman sits in yer presence."
"Of course not, mother. Take your ease." He came nearer the fire, studying the woman as he did. "I was told this is a house of hospitality. May my wife and I find shelter here?"
"One of the Good Folk may always find hospitality in my house." The woman dipped her head. "You and your lady wife are welcome, sir."
Gaelen was taken aback somewhat. Few mortals had the discernment to recognize fairies anymore.
"You know what I am?"
The woman cackled. "Sir, the sight of the truth is free to any who dare grasp it. Only the fearful hide from it. Your people have only been kind to me. Bring your wife, sir. I will make your chamber ready." The old woman grunted as she tried to rise. Gaelen jumped to offer her assistance. She looked up at him and smiled a toothless grin. "I thank ye, sir. A right gentleman you are."
"It is my pleasure to serve a kind lady."
"Ach, get on wi' ya. Go get your wife and bring her in from the cold and damp. Does a body no good to be out on such a raw night." She toddled off toward the stairs, taking one at a time, but making fine time of it nonetheless.
Gaelen found Annabelle still sleeping soundly. He opened the door and took her into his arms. "This is getting to be a habit, isn't it, dearling?" he whispered into her ear as he kicked the door shut.
He carried her in, careful of both their heads as he eased through the short, narrow doorway.
"This way, sir." The old woman waved gnarly knuckles at him, summoning him up the stairs.
"I've stirred the fire for you. 'Twill take off the chill."
The old woman stood aside as Gaelen carried Annabelle into the room and settled her on the inviting double bed.
"A lovely lady." The old woman studied Annabelle's face. "One can see her goodness on her face."
"Yes," Gaelen agreed. He turned to the woman. "Thank you, mother, for your kindness. I'll not forget it."
The old woman smiled and waved a dismissal. "'Tis I who am grateful, sir. My late husband and I, we've been treated well by your people. 'Tis an old debt."
"Then we continue the circle," he replied with a smile.
She nodded. "Indeed. Good night, sir, and to your lady wife, as well." Shuffling into the hallway, she pulled the door closed behind her.
He shook his shoulders, relaxing the tension he hadn't realized had settled there. Not really knowing why, he went to the door and pressed his ear to the wood, listening. Setting his hand around the old-fashioned, cut-glass doorknob, he turned it slowly and opened the door a crack. He peeked out into the hallway. Was his so helpful benefactress waiting outside?
He stuck his head outside and looked both up and down the hallway.
Empty. Gaelen silently shut the door and leaned on it. Only then did he release the breath he'd been holding.
Why did he have such an uneasy feeling? Maybe because he had to rely on his senses. He hadn't realized he'd been using his powers so unconsciously. Once he'd closed off his mind from her, hers was also unavailable to him. So he had to take her at face value.
It was an uncomfortable feeling. How did mortals stand it?
Gaelen turned to the bed where Annabelle lay. She'd rolled onto her side and tucked her hands underneath her cheek on the snowy-white, eyelet-lace pillowcase. He watched her eyelids flutter, the cool blue of her aura soothing his own troubled mind.
Knowing he was taking a huge chance, Gaelen lay down beside her, breathing in her scent. Clean and fresh like a spring rain, it swirled around his head, seeking out those places he'd shut behind a steel door, places where he couldn't ignore what he was, where he belonged.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, letting his own life force mingle with hers, and taking solace from her. Annabelle snuggled against him, spoon-fashion, causing him a wonderful, tormenting ache.
Shutting his eyes, he tried not to examine his feelings, even as he knew what it was he felt, lying there holding her close.
* * * *
Annabelle was flying. She looked over and saw Gaelen there by her side, holding her hand.
"I thought we couldn't fly together," she said. "How are you doing this?"
He grinned. "I'm not. It's you."
"Huh?"
The fingers of gravity groped for her, trying to pull her down, down, down. Her heart jumped and she reached for him.
"No, dearling. Remember to believe."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm flying." Immediately, she rose higher, pulling Gaelen after her.
His booming laugh made her laugh, too.
"Yes, you are."
"But how, Gaelen?"
He quirked an eyebrow. "Maybe it's just magic?"
She turned her face into the wind and with gluttonous glee took in everything she could see from this most unusual vantage point.
"Whatever it is, I don't want it to ever end."
"Don't say that!"
Just that quickly, she found herself on the ground, surrounded by grass of bright emerald green and a rainbow of flowers. Their heady perfume wafted around her and she turned her head to give her nose the chance to smell them all: sweet, tangy, even some that reminded her of pepper. The grass cushioned her bare feet, cool and soft.
"Did you hear me?" he said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.
"What?" she asked. "What did you say, Gaelen?"
He grabbed her chin and turned her to face him. "I said don't say you want this to never end. Don't you know where we are?"
"No..." Her eyes caught sight of a hummingbird, only the size of your thumb, hovering over a bright orange hibiscus, his wings invisible--
"Annabelle, pay attention."
She forced
her gaze back to Gaelen's and nodded.
"We're in the Dream Realm, dearling. We must not tarry here long."
"Why? It's so beautiful here."
"Yes, indeed it is." He raised his hand and stroked her cheek. "It is beautiful here."
"Why are we here?"
He chuckled. "I don't know if I want to tell you."
"Oh, please."
"All right. We're here because, well, because we fell asleep thinking of one another. Don't you remember being here before?"
That totally confused her. "We haven't been here before."
A deep flush rushed up Gaelen's cheeks.
She had made a fairy blush! She bit her lip to hold back her smile.
"Why are you blushing, Gaelen?"
"I'm not!"
"Yes, you are." She ran her fingers through his golden hair, which somehow seemed even brighter in this light. "When were we here before?"
He glanced away as though he didn't want to meet her eyes. "Don't you have any idea when we might have been here? The night we went out to dinner?"
A sudden snatch of memory, the feeling of his hands on her body, of him inside her--
"Oh!" It took a moment for her shock to be replaced by embarrassment. "Well, that. That was only--" She stared hard at him. "How do you know I dreamed about you?"
"I know, sweet Annabelle, because I was there, too." He stepped closer and swept her into his arms.
She should resist, but she didn't want to. Granny Smith would understand. So instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close until she could reach his mouth with hers.
"Is this just a dream we're having together? Or is it all in my head?"
"Just a dream?" He nibbled at the corner of her mouth. "No, dearling. Not just a dream. It's as real as you want it to be."
She smiled. "I'm not sure I want reality. Can we do anything we want while we're here?"
"Um-hmm."
Gaelen sat on the soft grass and cradled her on his lap. He nuzzled her neck and trailed his lips up to her ear.
"What would you like to do, Annabelle?"
A shiver danced along her every nerve as his breath brushed her skin.
"How about what we did before?"
"Oh, what an excellent notion." Even before his words faded, his mouth closed over hers and he took her breath away.
She held him close, pressing her breasts against the hard expanse of his naked chest, and only then did Annabelle realize she, too, was naked. She almost pulled away, as she had before, but Gaelen held her against him, brushing against her. Her breasts grew heavy with desire. Her nipples hardened with need. Her lungs seemed unable to draw a full breath.
Gaelen lay back on the rich carpet of green and drew her to lay atop him, never breaking the connection of their lips.
"Ah, sweet." His whisper teased her ears as his fingers teased the pebbled sensitivity of her breasts.
Annabelle threw back her head. The sensation was too much to bear.
"Gaelen. I love you."
His hands froze on her. The sudden change made her return her attention to his face.
"What is it?"
"Don't say such things, dearling. It's too dangerous."
She smiled. "Even here?"
He brushed a stray hank of hair back from her face.
"Especially here." A smile spread over his face. "Now, come, lass, and let's enjoy each other for a small time before we have to return to the real world."
As he spoke, he swelled, pressing against her. A jolt of pure lust shot through her and she eagerly raised herself to her knees so she could take him in.
He filled her, so full she could feel him in her heart, probing for her secrets, unsatisfied with any place left undiscovered.
They laced their fingers together and Annabelle held on as she rode him to the ultimate ecstasy. It curled, twisted, tightened, deep within her until it could do no more.
And still the sweet torment grew.
He pitched upward. "Annabelle!"
She exploded. "Gaelen!"
Chapter Eighteen
"Wake up, dearling."
The soft voice, touched ever so softly by an accent warm and alluring, stirred her hair and tickled her ear. Annabelle swiped at the irritant and snuggled against the warm body behind her. She wanted to go back to the cool garden to lie in Gaelen's arms.
A large hand gently shook her shoulder. "Come now, sleepyhead. Time to get to work. We have a lot to do today."
Annabelle blinked sleepily, her bleary eyes taking in her strange surroundings. The warmth behind her invited her to snuggle closer and remain in bed. So she did.
"Annabelle." The grating voice sounded pained. "Please, darlin', don't do that."
The warm body moved away.
"No," she moaned, rolling over. She yearned to be skin-to-skin with him again. "Love me, Gaelen."
He moaned. "We must prepare to rescue Erin and Lucas, sweetheart."
Erin. That woke her up. She opened her eyes, glancing around to get her bearings. Gaelen leaned over her.
Was this another dream? Like the one she'd had before? Had it only been in her mind? What had Gaelen called it? The Dream Realm?
Heat filled her cheeks as the memories of lovemaking with him rushed through her mind.
She needed to change the subject.
"Where is this?" she whispered, her voice still wakeup scratchy.
"Killis, in County Roscommon. Not very far from Finnvarra's court."
"Finnvarra," she repeated. "So, we're here."
"Your turn in the bathroom. It's across the hallway." He stepped away from the bed. "We have some shopping to do after breakfast."
Annabelle got out of bed, only then realizing she was still in the clothes she'd traveled in.
It was only a dream. Of course, he hadn't undressed her.
She crossed the room to where her suitcase sat on a rack. As she neared, Gaelen stepped back as though she were on fire and he was afraid of getting singed.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"Nothing. Why would you ask that? Nothing's the matter." He took another step backward, giving her more room to pass.
She stared at him, wondering why he was acting so squirrelly. Did he know what she had dreamed? Suddenly the memory of a big, warm body pressed against her--or had she pressed against him?--flashed across her brain.
Their eyes met for an instant before he looked away.
She grabbed her overnight bag and a set of clean bath linens neatly folded on the oak dresser. Without a word, she dashed out of the room to the bathroom across the dark, narrow hallway.
She brushed her teeth and tried to wash away the fatigue of the long flight and her worry about Erin. And her sudden tension. Tension that made her tight as a guitar string.
Leaning against the sink, Annabelle thought about where she'd been--had it only been yesterday?--with her sister in a hospital being treated for a mental problem. Now she was in Ireland with a man who claimed to be a fairy. She stared into the mirror at herself, disbelief suddenly crowding her mind.
Why the heck had she bought that ridiculous story? A fairy, for Pete's sake.
"Pete. Peter."
Peter Pan. Where all this nonsense had started. Fairies and pixies and Irish tales. That's all this was. And she'd fallen for it.
She straightened up from the sink to march back across the room, preparing what she'd say to Doctor Riley for making a fool of her...and froze with her fingers wrapped around the doorknob.
What stopped her was the memory of the horror of looking at the hospital bed where Erin lay. No, not Erin, but some thing pretending to be Erin. And Gaelen's urgency that she had to believe him and his story. And the way he'd made her hand disappear. And how she'd screamed.
She tried to ignore the memory of the kiss he'd used to effectively shut her up. It hadn't meant anything to him. Not a thing at all.
But, and she was sure of this, Gaelen had been lying in that bed with her this m
orning, molded along her back and legs as closely as her shadow. She was also sure she could trust him. He'd told her the truth and he'd save Erin.
He'd promised.
Hanging onto his promise like a mountain climber hanging onto the last strand of a fraying rope, she gathered her things and crossed the hallway.
She hadn't seen where they'd stopped last night, and expecting a hotel, she was surprised by the homey feel. Then she realized it was somebody's private home.
A woman's voice trilled a mournful, wordless tune, seeming to call out to her. A need drew her to see the person who owned the voice. She descended the stairs halfway and peeked around the wall.
Her gasp escaped before she could stop it. The small pixyish figure jerked and turned from the fireplace.
Annabelle ducked around the corner, catching her breath, not daring to even whisper the words on her lips.
Linette Duncan. What was she doing here? Why would Gaelen bring her to the woman who'd taken Erin? Annabelle shook away the vision of the hunk of wood in her sister's place. It still unsettled her that she hadn't seen the truth for herself.
"My dear?" The voice wasn't Dr. Duncan's, but the scratchy squawk of an old woman.
She heard the shuffle of feet in soft slippers coming closer and in a panic dashed back up the stairs to the bedroom. Ducking in, she slammed the door and leaned up against it.
"What is it?" Gaelen asked, his brow furrowed.
"It's her," Annabelle whispered.
"Who?"
"Dr. Duncan."
"What?" Gaelen took two steps and was standing before her. He grabbed her shoulders and shook, not gently. "Where is she?"
"Downstairs, by the fire."
He pushed her aside and jerked the door open, stomping across the threshold and out into the hallway.
"Gaelen, stop," she called after him.
He headed down the stairs. Annabelle became frantic, thinking of the two large orderlies who'd followed Dr. Duncan around like Rotweilers. How could she and Gaelen help Erin if they were taken prisoner?
She dashed out behind him.
Gaelen had already reached the foot of the stairs and was talking to an old lady. He glared up at Annabelle.
