by Anne Manning
"See you in court tomorrow, then. Be sure to bring her," Linette tossed her thumb back to indicate Annabelle. "Come on, Frank."
Linette marched out the door. Frank followed, but paused to offer a salute.
"No hard feelings, eh?"
In answer, Gaelen slammed the door in his face. Feeling suddenly needful of more security, he locked the door and put the old-fashioned key in his pants pocket before going to the window.
* * * *
He stood looking out the window for a long time it seemed to Annabelle.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
"I'm watching to make sure they both leave."
She heard an engine start and tires squeal as a vehicle peeled out from the front of the house.
He turned from the window at last, going back to the door and picking up the bag he'd dropped earlier.
"Here," he said shoving the bag at her. "Take the salt out and sprinkle it on the sill and by the door and on the hearth."
"Why?"
"It'll keep them away tonight."
"What are they? Vampires?" She turned to do as he ordered.
"No," he said, wiping his face with both hands. "For vampires, I'd use garlic salt."
She stopped in mid-turn, slowly turning back to face him. "You mean…?"
"What?"
"There really are vampires?"
"Sure."
She turned slowly again to the window, taking small careful steps. "What else is…out there?"
Gaelen fell into the comfortable chair in front of the small fireplace, his breath whooshing out as he stretched.
"Werewolves, shapeshifters, gargoyles, demons, witches, you name it."
She glared at him, aware now he was teasing. "That's not funny, Gaelen."
When she'd finished salting down Mrs. O'Hara's spare bedroom, Annabelle put the box of salt back into the bag. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she finally asked what had been on her mind since Frank, the fairy mercenary, had rattled the doorknob to this room.
"Where did you go?"
He leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. "Out for a walk. Then I stopped at the car to get the bag. With Linette hovering about, I thought I'd sleep better with it in here." He opened his eyes and rolled his head around to look at her. "You should get some sleep. It's late, and we have to be about our business early tomorrow."
She shrugged. "I can't sleep now. Besides, I think I'm getting a hangover."
"Oh, poor darlin'." He pushed himself out of the chair. "Got a headache?" He climbed behind her on the bed and knelt, raising his hands over her head.
"Some more magic?"
"Mm-hmm. Close your eyes and sit very still."
She could feel his hands near her, moving around her, but not touching her. Occasionally his warmth would abruptly leave but return immediately. As she sat there, she felt as though she were floating. Her arms and legs had no weight. She had no weight.
"What are you doing?"
"Shhh, I'm lifting your headache."
"What?"
"Shhh."
She obeyed and relaxed. Though he didn't touch her, she could feel where his hands were, hovering above her head. His presence radiated through her, warming her, relaxing her, even while he created a tension she found strange, but not at all unpleasant.
They were quiet for many minutes.
"It's gone," she spoke the words as the realization dawned.
"Good." He kissed the top of her head. She heard him breathe deeply. "You do smell so good."
Annabelle leaned back against him, willing him to touch her. Her body yearned for his touch, his kiss. Gaelen stroked her arms, up her neck. The warmth of his fingers shot through her, a flame seeking out all the cold, empty places in her soul.
The law is only for revealing ourselves.
"Gaelen, make love to me."
Had she really spoken those words?
His hands stilled. He pulled away, leaving cold where there had been warmth.
"No, dearling. Not tonight."
She whirled on him. "I wish you'd make up your mind. You act like you want me, then when I offer myself like a common trollop you back off like you've taken a vow of chastity. What's wrong with me? Why you don't like me?"
He grimaced. "There's nothing wrong with you. I like you rather too much."
"Then kiss me again." Was she really being so bold? "I've been trying and trying to get you to."
"Oh, darlin' don't tempt me so. I can't."
"Why?"
"The law."
"Phooey on the law. You heard what Dr. Duncan just said."
"I need to verify that for myself." He grinned. "Besides, what would I tell your mother?"
"My mother?" She laughed. "I think she'd understand better than you think." Her laughter turned somber when she thought of how cruelly she'd judged her mother.
He stroked her cheek. "What's wrong?"
"I guess I'm ashamed. All these years I assumed Mom had always been like she is now. Before we left, she told me..."
"What?"
"You don't know my mother at all, do you?"
"Not really. I met her a few times at university functions, though Jumbo usually came alone. I've heard, from other faculty," he said, seeming embarrassed to admit he'd gossiped about her family, "Jumbo kept his wife under wraps."
"He did," Annabelle admitted. "Mom isn't...strong. Daddy always said she was fey. I never gave it much thought, except for wishing my mother was like everybody else's. Anyway, when I told her I was coming to Ireland with you, she guessed it all. Practically tossed me out the front door to get me on my way."
Gaelen frowned. "What did she tell you?"
Chapter Twenty Two
Gaelen listened as Annabelle recounted her mother's story. Many things started to become clearer. He'd always thought Susan Tinker seemed a bit fey, just as Jumbo had described her, but in a bad way--distracted, unfocused. Now he realized she showed the signs of one who'd seen his home world, been enchanted by it, and was never again able to function in the real one again.
Another fairy mixing with a human woman. Annabelle's own mother.
"Did this winged fellow have a name?"
Annabelle pursed her lips. Galen looked away before he was hopelessly sidetracked by how kissable they were.
"It was a strange first name. The last name was O'Shea."
"O'Shea?" Couldn't be. No one was more adamant about fairies keeping to their own kind than... Gaelen hesitated, but he had to know. "Was his first name, Eochy?"
"That's it. Eochy O'Shea."
"Did she describe this Eochy O'Shea?" He hoped there was another fairy named Eochy O'Shea.
"Mom said he was like a rooster."
"That's Eochy, all right." Gaelen's sympathy for Susan Tinker eroded in the face of the anger building against Eochy.
"Do you know him?" Annabelle asked.
"Yes, I do." He got off the bed and without even thinking squooshed and headed for an infinitesimal space in the window frame.
Wham!
He bounced back to the opposite wall, splatting against the landscape hanging over the fireplace.
Forcing his rage to a calmer temperature so he wouldn't frighten Annabelle, he unsquooshed and waited a second for the lightheadedness to pass.
He turned to her, carefully phrasing his request.
"Annabelle, dear, would you be kind enough to sweep the salt off the sill?"
With a silent nod, her eyes wide, she jumped off the bed to do as he asked.
"Not on the floor, please. Sweep it into your hand and toss it into the fireplace."
"Okay." She did as he bid, but took a wide circle around him.
Gaelen frowned at her apparent apprehension. Fool! He should have prepared her. Sure he'd told her about it, but she'd never actually seen him squoosh.
"I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, not waiting for her reply, he squooshed again and headed for the space in the window frame.
He took the Gr
eat Circle route to New Jersey, and he didn't stop until he reached the boulder covering the opening to the cave where the North American Federation held its meetings. Dashing under this minor impediment, Gaelen flew down the corridor. Why did he come here? Eochy would be in his big white house by the Potomac River at this time of day. But still Gaelen flew on toward the Great Meeting Hall.
There were lights shimmering at the end of the corridor, signaling someone's presence.
"Come on in, Gaelen. I've been waiting for you."
Gaelen flew in and hovered for a moment. Eochy sat in his big chair at the Great Table. Ninety-nine chairs were empty between them.
Unsquooshing, Gaelen took his time getting to his own chair at the Great Table, but he didn't sit down. He set his hands on the back, willing himself to stay calm.
"Why?" he finally asked.
"Why what?" Eochy asked in return, a smile playing on his lips.
"You hypocrite," Gaelen spat.
"Have a care, lad. That's a serious accusation."
"What's the problem, Eochy? Can't face what you've done?" Gaelen glanced around. "Let's get the One Hundred in here. I'll say it again. Hypocrite!"
Eochy jumped to his feet. His huge chair spun out behind him. "Take that back."
Gaelen held Eochy's gaze. "Never. You seduced Susan Tinker. Now you have the gall to try to send her daughter to Tir-Nan-Og for falling in love with Lucas."
"You know perfectly well that's not why she has to go. Lucas revealed his nature to her."
"And what did you do to Susan Tinker?"
Eochy looked away. "I ruined her." Gaelen knew he wasn't referring to anything sexual. "'Tis true. But Vern took care of her. He understood her."
Gaelen couldn't believe his ears. "I ought to pluck your wings out you heartless--"
"I'm not heartless, Gaelen." Eochy's eyes pleaded for understanding. He leaned against the table, his whole body begging. "That's why I forced the law through the Elders's Council. So no other woman could be hurt like that again."
Gaelen hardened his heart. "Well, it didn't work, did it?"
"No. Because your brother didn't obey it."
"Here's a flash for you, Eochy. Neither have I. Now you try, you bantam rooster, to banish me to Tir-Nan-Og. If I go, you go." Eochy blanched. "Sure, now it means something to you."
"The law doesn't work retroactively." Well, Eochy was a lawyer in his spare time, wasn't he?
"What do you think the Council of Elders will have to say about your situation, Eochy?" The expression on Eochy's face slackened in realization. Gaelen knew he had him. "Yes, we fairies have a grand sense of justice. You'll either fix this mess and take care of that dear woman, or I'll see you languishing in Tir-Nan-Og for a century or two. You've got until I get back from Ireland where I've got a mess of my own to clean up."
Gaelen squooshed and left before he could get around the Great Table to flatten Eochy.
* * * *
Annabelle waited up for Gaelen's return. No way she could go to sleep after seeing that. So, that was squooshing.
It was almost like he'd exploded. And the expression on his face was so…angry. Where was he going? And what was he going to do once he got there? The second question frightened her more than the first.
She'd never seen him like that. He'd always been so even-tempered, even when dealing with--
Well, no, he'd been about to strangle Dr. Duncan. That had been a Gaelen she'd never seen before, the same one who'd flown out of here.
What if he didn't come back? What if he had exploded? How many times could you squoosh your atoms before your atoms squooshed back?
She shook that idea right out of her head. After all, she'd know--though she didn't know exactly how she'd know--if he'd…if he wasn't coming back.
She settled in for a long wait, prepared to be patient.
Her eyelids grew heavy. She got up and sprinkled water from the antique washbasin on the dresser on her face and walked around the room to stay awake.
On the tenth lap around the tiny bedroom, her eyes gritty, she sat on the bed. For someone fighting sleep, that was a mistake. The mattress beckoned her to rest, to surrender to her fatigue.
"No, I can't sleep until he's back," she told herself, even as she gave up the fight against gravity and fell back on the crisp, clean white sheets. "Just for a minute. Oh, my eyes are so tired. I'll just close them for little while."
She woke from a sound sleep, snuggled into the warm body behind her. Gaelen snored softly in her ear, a rumbling sound she found comforting.
"Gaelen," she whispered. "Gaelen, wake up." She turned over so she could face him.
In sleep, his handsome face seemed like that of a young boy. She looked her fill, soaking in the high brow, the lock of wheat-gold hair hanging over his closed eyes. The strong jaw and the generous mouth, his full lips tipped in just a hint of a smile.
What did a fairy dream about?
He must have sensed her intense study of his face. His eyes cracked open. He squinted at her as he came awake.
"Hello." She brushed the wayward tendrils of gold off his brow.
"Hello." His smile widened at the touch of her fingers against his skin.
Annabelle moved toward him and, in some unspoken understanding, Gaelen wrapped her in his arms, rolled to his back and pulled her onto his chest.
"Where were you?"
He didn't answer immediately. She pulled away to look him in the eye.
"I went to New Jersey to take care of some business."
"New Jersey? How in the world did you get to New Jersey and back so quickly?"
"I flew. You saw me."
"You can fly that fast?"
"Sure. All that energy pointed in one direction provides a hell of a boost."
"I guess." She was impressed. "Do you fly at the speed of light?"
"Don't know. Never been clocked. I can beat the Concorde by a good ways though."
"I suppose all fairies can fly that fast."
He seemed offended, and she hid a smile at his bruised masculine pride. "I suppose."
"So, what kind of business did you have in New Jersey? Or is it none of mine?" She didn't realize until she'd said it how much she was really asking.
"How can I tell you it's none of your business? Everything that affects me affects you."
They gazed into each other's eyes. Words became useless as they began to speak in a silent language of infinitely greater economy.
Gaelen raised his hand to her face, stroking her skin with the backs of his fingers, smoothing away all worry. Lacing his fingers through her hair, he molded them to her neck, urged her to him.
She gave herself over to his will. He was what she'd always wanted, what she'd waited for. She'd known he was out there somewhere.
Their lips met, matching perfectly, as though made for each other, created from the same mold. Annabelle yearned to join him, wherever it was he wanted her to go, whatever it was he wanted her to do, she knew she would, gladly.
His tongue probed gently, seeking her acquiescence.
She opened her lips to him, urging a deeper union between their two souls. Gaelen's tongue tasted, then sparred with hers, gently mimicking the joining of their bodies to come.
She only vaguely felt the glide of his fingers up the length of her thigh, pushing her nightgown before them, and then to her waist, slipping inside her sensible cotton panties, now seeming the most provocative of lingerie. His big hands massaged the flesh of her belly, her hips.
She groaned. He groaned, the vibration tickling her lips. He pulled her atop him, skinning her panties off as she raised hips. Then she settled on his hardness.
Then his fingers gathered her nightgown and pulled it over her head.
"Annabelle," he whispered against her lips. "Are you willing?"
"Don't be stupid." She gathered his face between her hands and sealed her answer with another deep kiss, this time her tongue demanding the entry. She broke the kiss only long enough to wh
isper, "I've waited my whole life for you."
He moaned and nipped her lower lip as he wrapped her in an embrace fueled by passion and, Annabelle thought a bit foggily, some other more desperate motive.
She pushed herself away and sat astride him. "Wait," she whispered when he would have kept her from moving further away. "I want to see you, too."
Her fingers flew to his shirt, unbuttoning it as quickly as her anxiousness permitted, and she followed them with her lips, touching them to the warm golden skin of his chest as she revealed it to her hungry eyes.
He raised his shoulders so she could pull his shirt off him, then he lay still, allowing her to do her will. She lowered his zipper, a notch at a time, watching the bulge beneath his black silk underwear struggle to free itself. Every tiny click of the zipper sounded loud as a gun shot in the silence. Their heavy breaths matched, one for one. Annabelle felt cool and realized she was sweating.
Gaelen's face, too, glowed in the weak lamplight.
"Get a move on, girl," he growled.
Annabelle smiled. Her heart sang. Her body thrummed with its own song, one ancient and earthy. A song telling the deepest secrets a woman knew, even if she had never heard them before.
Except in her dreams.
With a shift of her weight and a tug, she pulled his trousers down the length of his long, strong legs, and flung them to the floor.
"Come here, darlin'. Come to me," he asked, holding his arms open to her.
She laughed, and it was the sound of her heart's song. She jumped into his arms and Gaelen laughed with her, their songs blending in a harmony as old as time.
His mouth captured hers again, and this time he took her with a branding fire, marking her for all time as his alone.
Their bodies blended together. She could feel nothing else except him. Her eyes saw nothing but him.
Her body seemed ready to melt under the pressure. How much could one person feel before she couldn't accept more?
She almost pushed him away, afraid, but he slipped beyond her questing fingers, moving lower. His tongue encircled the tip of her breast, and she writhed. His teeth nipped her. She cried out, not "No more," but "Yes, Gaelen, yes!"
