He gave a startled jerk at his unexpected wardrobe change, but did not let it deter him from his mission. His expression became one of focused determination. When he reached the stage, he bounded up the few steps to stand before Colleen. He glowered at Marc, his upper lip curling in a vicious snarl as he carefully enunciated each word. “Unhand. My. Woman.”
Marc dropped his hand like it had been burnt and backed away from the podium to wedge himself in between Brandi and Carl. Colleen couldn’t react, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think. She could only feel the overwhelming love she had for this man, and it humbled her to the very depth of her soul. “Faolan?” she whispered. “Am I dreaming?”
Faolan blinked in amazement as if unable to decide if she were real. “Is it really you, mo chridhe?” he whispered, gathering her into his arms. She raised her face to meet his then wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him tightly to her, his lips meeting hers in a crushing kiss.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Colleen sobbed against his lips. “Tell me you’re not going to leave me again.” She rained kisses down all over his face and neck. “Promise me.”
“Hush, now,” he soothed, pressing kisses of his own. “’Tis ye I love, Princess. My place is with ye and yers with me. I’m not letting ye out of my sight ever again.”
Shaking out of his shocked stupor, Marc cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Excuse me,” he said with a haughty sniff. “We’re in the middle of an award ceremony here.”
Faolan whirled to face him, but before he could speak Colleen placed a gentling hand on his chest and said, “He doesn’t remember you.” She faced the three standing next to her. “This is…” She turned to face Faolan again. “What should I call you? Faolan MacIntyre or John Stewart?
Faolan grinned. “Isn’t there something ye’d like to be telling me first, lass?” He gave her an appraising look, his appreciative eyes lingering long on her generous cleavage.
With a blush, she looked around the room at all the watchful eyes and expectant expressions… to hell with it. “Yes, there is, you’re going to be a father.” She laughed.
“Then ye may call me anything ye like so long as ye call me husband as well,” he whooped, sweeping her up into his arms and spinning around in delight. “Will ye marry me, lass? Let me make an honest woman of ye?”
“Yes,” she cried, “I’ll marry you!” She flung her arms around his neck again and squeezed him tightly. The applause was deafening as they sealed the promise with a lingering kiss that threatened to incinerate them both where they stood.
Marc cleared his throat again. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice louder.
Faolan let Colleen’s feet slide to the floor, setting her down light as a thistle. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, snatching up the certificate and shoving it into Marc’s hands. “Here’s yer scrap of paper, ye whining ass. Begging yer pardon, Mistress,” he added with a low bow to Brandi. “And congratulations on yer impending birth as well.”
Marc whipped around. “You’re pregnant?” he asked Brandi incredulously.
Brandi turned beet red. “I just found out. I was going to tell you…” her voice faded into a whisper.
Colleen gave the young woman a happy smile. “Congratulations, Brandi. You too, Marc,” she said, trying to be magnanimous about the whole thing.
“No need to congratulate him, Blossom,” Faolan chuckled. “The bairn’s not his, that gentleman there is the father.” He gestured to Carl, who offered a weak smile and shrugged.
“I was going to tell you!” Brandi wailed before she turned and ran from the stage. With a look of chagrin, Carl took off after her. Marc stood red faced and sputtering over the appalling turn of events. The entire room exploded in chaos, but neither Faolan nor Colleen noticed, all their attention turned to the Queen. Aoibhell gave the couple a regal nod and when the strange wind blew through the room again, she stepped back through the invisible doorway and vanished from sight.
“She said she’ll come to visit after the babe is born to give him her blessing,” Faolan whispered amidst the snowstorm of paper.
“Maybe it’s a her,” Colleen whispered back.
“Nay, ’tis a him,” Faolan said with a cheeky grin. “And he’s going to be strong and handsome, with his mother’s beautiful green eyes and his father’s charming disposition.” Colleen gave a delicate snort at that last bit, and Faolan arched a dark eyebrow and laughed. “Always with the denial. Are ye finally ready to admit that yer my woman, Colleen O’Brien?”
Colleen thought about that and gave him a smile that took his breath away. “Aye, ye big brute, I guess I am,” she said.
“And do ye remember me telling ye that if ye were my woman ye’d want for naught?” he asked.
“I do,” she smiled, thumping his chest. “And what I want most is for you to take me home.”
“I would like that above all things,” Faolan said solemnly, his blue eyes sparkling, “but do ye think we could stop at the market on the way? I’m near famished and I…well, I made a list.”
Shannon MacLeod
Shannon MacLeod resides next to an abandoned theme park and when not writing or daydreaming about sexy Celts, she lives a life of servitude to two spoiled cats. She enjoys pondering the mysteries of Tarot, rainy days, good music, lively craic and spending long hours gazing at her beloved ocean. An avid wearer of dangerously high heels, she watches Lord of the Rings more than any sane person should and can, in fact, reenact the battle scenes using interpretive dance.
Authors Note
John Stewart was a real person. According to the royal Stewart genealogy, he was born in 1216, the second son and sixth child of Walter Stewart, 3rd High Steward of Scotland and Beatrix of Angus. Little is known about his life other than he died in1249 during the Crusades in the city of Damietta, Egypt. The history did not specify if he was enchanted by the sidhe at the time. And Nessie really is a water horse.
The Celtic Knot
Arcana Love, #1: Suit of Cups
Sometimes, love lasts lifetimes.
Lily’s whole life is planned out. She’ll live, if not happily, at least ever after. Working as an insurance agent with her college sweetheart and longtime boyfriend, Lucas, she’ll eventually marry him and together they’ll take over the family agency. Then she and Lucas will start raising little insurance agents of their own. But something is missing…
At her best friend's urging, she decides to do one last wild thing before committing her life to a future of policy endorsements–she takes a part time job reading tarot cards at a local Renaissance Faire theme park. Lucas is completely unimpressed and disdainful of her fascination with the mystical, but has no doubt she'll settle down once they're married. Enter Ian Kelly, mural painter, actor and…witch. He and Lily have a chance meeting at the park, and the attraction is immediate. They have a history…a lot of history. Several lifetimes of it, in fact, and their business together is unfinished.
All three have secrets, one of them deadly. Add in heaping helpings of magic, mayhem, Cuban sandwiches, one large Irish family and one very demanding feline for a story of love so strong, it’ll take more than one century to contain it.
CONTENT WARNING: Language, suggestive scenes.
The Gypsy Ribbon
Arcana Love, #2: Suit of Wands
Rock hard, play hard, love harder
Internationally known wild child James Kelly is a filthy rich rock star, devilishly handsome, with silicone beauties aplenty to grace both his arm and his bed. He has it all. Or does he? What he wants most is a real woman to tell him no once in a while…and thanks to his inherited precognition, he knows her when he meets her. But the vision of his future is shrouded in darkness and shadows.
Tarot reader Lisbeth Vargo works at the local renaissance faire. She’s still stinging from her last bad relationship when her best friend marries James Kelly’s brother. After being paired up in the wedding party, sparks fly between Lisbeth and James. Even her
tarot cards tell her he’s the one, but is the interest of a “bad boy” something she can take seriously?
Sometimes falling in love takes a leap of faith. Occasionally it needs a push off the cliff. James is more than happy to give Lisbeth that needed shove, but will his love save her…or get her killed?
CONTENT WARNING: Irish mischief, smokin’ sex, creative uses for ice cream and bad gypsy accents
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2013 Shannon MacLeod
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.
First Electronic Edition: October 2013
ISBN-13: 9781616504854
Rogue on the Rollaway Page 25
