Once Upon a Time

by Marylyle Rogers

  After pulling up warm stockings, tugging on shoes, and rapidly dragging a silver-backed brush through sleep-tangled hair then quickly coiled into the modesty-required net at her nape, Amy rushed to her great-aunt's room. She gathered up the requested item and hustled downstairs, confident this part of the task had been accomplished with a remarkable speed preventing any undue delay of tea. However, on entering the parlor with blue lap robe folded over one arm, she found her two companions already sharing a pot of that reviving brew.

  "Aunt Daffy," Amy gently remonstrated while tucking the wool blanket around the older woman. "You shouldn't have gotten the tea."

  "She didn't," Comlan stated with the return of his usual wry smile.

  "You did?" Amy was surprised.

  "I'm actually quite capable of performing a wide variety of tasks." Comlan's feigned expression of wounded feelings was belied by the amusement sparkling in emerald depths, and his facade almost immediately melted into a bright, mocking grin.

  Despite her inexperience, Amy heard these obliquely provocative words as a reference to this dangerously attractive man's undoubted mastery of seductive skills. But was it that, her prudish conscience asked? Or was it her own indelicate preoccupation with him that put such a shameful notion in her head? Renewed color bloomed which in turn prompted yet another vexed frown.

  "Now come, have your morning tea." Naming himself a fool for having teased the tender damsel, however lightly, Comlan gently took Amy's hand and tugged her down to sit beside him on the sofa.

  "Once the sun crests the horizon, I mean to escort you out for a refreshing walk."

  Filled with a curious mixture of anticipation and uncertainty, Amy glanced sidelong at this unpredictable man. What she found surprised her even more—a rueful expression she'd never before seen.

  "We have things to discuss." The cryptic statement was less explanation than gateway to more questions.

  Daffy watched the exceptionally handsome Comlan talk with her darlin' Amy of his plans for them. Then she sat back with hands peacefully folded, looking as pleased as a cat presented with a big bowl of rich cream.

  "We can't leave Daffy alone," Amy whispered, conscientiously arguing despite a nearly irrepressible longing to spend time alone with the subject of her recently admitted, doomed love.

  "Nor will we," Comlan instantly responded, though he refused to answer the silent plea for explanation deepening gray eyes to charcoal until after Amy consumed two cups of tea and the last scone from a batch Daffy had baked early the previous day.

  "Now, let's be off." The golden speaker rose, and his powerful figure towered over the dark colleen he effortlessly pulled to her feet.

  "You said we wouldn't leave Daffy alone," Amy quietly reminded Comlan while sending a worried glance to the plainly unconcerned older woman.

  "She has never been alone since the day Patrick died," Comlan patiently explained before turning to greet the inexplicably appearing figure of a willow-slender female as golden-haired as her king.

  "This is Maedra," Comlan introduced the unabashedly curious and brightly smiling new-comer. "She is always here with your great-aunt whenever neither human relations nor friends are visiting."

  While Comlan escorted Amy from the cottage, she struggled to sort through tangled reactions to both these new examples of astonishing events and his frank claim of magical abilities. Her nearly lifelong suspicion of anything unscientific gave way to a host of other fleeting emotions but all were soon overwhelmed by an awed acceptance that left her with a single bleak and painful certainty. It would be impossible for any ordinary human to attract— even less hold—more than the superficial interest of a devastating being possessing such wondrous mystical powers as did this king of the Tuatha De Danann.

  Comlan sensed Amy's confusion and its disconsolate conclusion. However, he made a rare mistake by wrongly assuming its source to be simple uneasiness in his company. And why not? He frowned against the cheerless probability that this human colleen would never comprehend the mercurial nature that urged on him so many rapidly changing moods. It was this, he feared, that clearly defined the differences between them and made too likely an unhappy end for their tale.

  Sunlight rippled over hair like sun-bleached wheat as Comlan slowly shook his head, hoping to clear it of unpleasant images. The sky was blue, the air was warm, and despite a laggardly pace the two of them were halfway up the hillside behind Daffy's cottage. Their shared hours were dwindling. And though that time together would account for no more than a brief moment in the long span of his existence, he knew it would remain the most precious for containing this beloved and truly remarkable beauty whose loss he'd mourn forever.

  "Maedra and Daffy have become good friends over the years." Again Comlan attempted to banish cloudy thoughts—both his own and his dark maid's. "Each has learned to make allowances for the peculiarities inherent in the other's background."

  Maedra? The name caught Amy's immediate attention. Visualizing the lovely fairy woman, she asked a question whose almost certain answer she feared.

  "If I hadn't allowed Patience and her grandson to lure me from London and lead me here to Ireland, would Maedra have been with Daffy last night?"

  Comlan met apprehensive gray eyes and solemnly nodded.

  "And Maedra's presence would've prevented the intruder's success?" That this was less question than statement was just as well since a growing awareness of the golden man's nearness threatened to make forming rational questions difficult.

  Again Comlan nodded, wicked smile appearing but in no way hiding the regretful tenderness behind it. These questions indicated his love was learning and accepting what she needed to know about the ways of his realm in order to recognize the impossibility of an alliance between them.

  "How?" To lessen her vulnerability to him and clear her mind, Amy avoided meeting her companion's dangerously potent gaze by staring diligently at small bushes, oddly shaped rocks or the occasional wildflower rising above a carpet of grass.

  "The mere presence of one individual from among the Tuatha De Danann makes the casting of a protection spell possible."

  Although remembering her great-aunt's every word concerning the Faerie Realm's rules, Amy was frustrated by what surely must be an unnecessarily brief answer and glared up at Comlan. In the next moment she realized his curtailed answer had been a ploy to win her attention since, once he had it, Comlan elaborated without a further question from her.

  "The spell of protection wraps an invisible shell around any mortal's abode, making it impervious to the ill-intents of other humans."

  "But if you can do all that, why did you come to London? And what did you mean when you warned me of a threat to someone I love?" Of a sudden, Amy realized that his less than specific warning hadn't mentioned her great-aunt. "Isn't it Daffy who's in peril?"

  Though Comlan ignored Amy's last question it was obliquely answered by his response to the second. "Daffy is in no physical danger but there are others less easy to defend against."

  After silent minutes spent covering the last few yards of their gentle climb, Amy released a soft lower lip again nibbled berry-bright to pose a question whose answer she hoped wouldn't mean the end to their relationship, such as it was. "What possible use could you have for me—a mere human?"

  "There are things to be done that will require a human's touch." Comlan stopped and waited for Amy to face him before pointedly adding, "Not just any human's touch but yours."

  Amy wanted to ask what sort of action she was to take, but before she could frame the question, Comlan strode forward into the giant oak's shade. On approaching the golden figure, she found his somber green gaze intently studying the lovely circle of flowers in whose center he stood.

  "Do you know what causes a fairy ring?" Comlan asked in an oddly hollow tone and without glancing her way.

  Sensing the answer was important to him, Amy hesitated a pace from the ring's outer edge. She temporarily postponed the topic of her curiosity and
quietly admitted she'd never thought to question it, let alone learned the answer.

  "This one is my sister Lissan's." While staring blindly at the magical circle, memories of his too curious sister put on Comlan's mouth a fond smile tinged with sadness.

  Amy watched the brooding man and knew better than to break the aching silence settling around them like cool mists. With love-honed senses, she felt both the depth of his affection for Lissan… and an aching loneliness, as if his sister had been lost. She wanted to comfort the hurting man beyond her reach, but a first slight motion broke his preoccupation.

  Stunned by a wave of guileless sympathy flowing from the ebony-haired beauty, Comlan turned toward this human colleen he hadn't thought capable of such affinity. As he slowly shook his head, bright hair glowed despite the shadows beneath a towering tree.

  Comlan offered his amazingly sensitive human companion a strong hand to steady her while stepping carefully into the fragrant circle and rewarded her understanding patience with an explanation.

  "A great number of mortal years have passed since Lissan fell in love with a human warrior." Watching a winsome face for even the faintest response, Comlan won a tentative smile of uncommon sweetness and continued. "Killian was a courageous and mighty champion, a member of King Conchobar's elite guard, the Knights of the Red Branch."

  Comlan's mention of a romantic alliance bridging their two worlds struck the first spark of hope in Amy's despairing heart. But the next moment she was thunderstruck by a dimly remembered fact from a book of Irish history she'd once read. King Conchobar and his Knights of the Red Branch had existed more than a millennium earlier! Amy silently gasped. If Lissan had loved one of those knights, that meant Comlan was…

  Her nearly inconceivable calculations were interrupted by an oblivious Comlan's continuation of the tale.

  "But Killian was also too honorable to desert his king and live in Lissan's realm." Green eyes darkened almost to black with a painful sorrow Amy would have given anything to ease. "Thus it was that my sister chose to surrender her powers, become human, and live in his."

  "Surrender her powers?" Amy softly repeated.

  Comlan sadly nodded, motioning toward the encompassing ring. "These ever-fresh blossoms sprang up as Lissan's powers drained into the soil and are all that remains of her."

  Though his solemn companion didn't speak again, Comlan answered the question clear in the gray-mist eyes beneath a slight frown of concern.

  "Lissan lived a human lifetime and shared with her beloved a mortal's death." A sadness from long past swelled anew in Comlan, intensified by the bleak truth that he now faced precisely that same choice: Abandon his kindred and stoop to living a brief mortal life with Amethyst. Or endure a nearly endless lifetime without this dark colleen who'd stolen his heart.

  Amy's heart froze. In Comlan's sad tale she'd heard regret and an inability to understand. If he found Lissan's choice to live in the mortal world inexplicable, then he must think love for a human incomprehensible.

  The next moment Amy saw in Comlan's expression a battle being waged and pushed her own anguish aside. She also saw its end in a distress greatly at odds with the golden man's bright image. Without the waste of a moment's sane thought Amy instinctively wrapped slender arms about this powerful, mystical being subject to an unhealed wound of the soul she wouldn't have thought possible. Amy allowed the full measure of a bittersweet love previously concealed for fear of ridicule to fill that painful breach with gentle solace.

  Shocked again by the tender beauty's unsuspected perceptiveness, Comlan went utterly motionless. Then the experienced ladycharmer seldom surprised in any matter was knocked completely off kilter by the wanton actions of this innocent maiden recklessly pressing her lush form tight against his long, hard body.

  Amy was as surprised by her unthinking action as Comlan—yet unrepentant. This might be their last time alone. And, though ill-fated, it was likely her final chance to share the magic of love with this fantasy hero come to life who would forever possess her heart.

  Dangerous hungers roused, Comlan desperately wanted to crush Amy's soft body nearer and feed on the aching sweetness of her mouth. But instead he gently pushed her back to hold temptation at arm's length.

  "This is impossible!" Though stunned to discover Amy as unpredictable as ever one of his own, still Comlan knew that an intimate relationship would be devastating for them both. For her because it would mean the ruinous loss of a purity prized in her world; he because memories of their love play's sweet delights would deepen the pangs of hurtful loss through all the centuries to follow.

  Comlan had denied Amy before and she'd yielded to his arguments. This time she wouldn't! Despite an immediate flood of brilliant color, she stood boldly before him. She was done with the cool reasoning which for all her dedication to its principal had brought her nothing of real value and could do nothing to cure the unhappy truth of a doomed love.

  "No!" Misty eyes turned to pools of liquid pain.

  "If now is my only chance for happiness—however fleeting—it's too precious to let you deny me."

  Desolately aware that her dream hero would soon retreat to his magical world, Amy cast away any thought of wrong. She wielded the weapon of surprise to win free of his restraining hold and rashly dove headlong into the thrilling peril of an unfamiliar sea of fire. Wrapping her arms around his powerful neck and twisting fingers into strands of gold, she clung tightly to this anchor amidst a hungry tempest.

  The odd combination of aching plea and determined demand in his unexpected temptress's statement was so perfect an example of the paradox revered in his realm that Comlan looked down suspiciously, fearing it a guise she'd donned to impress him.

  Gazing into the beguilingly open face of love, Comlan fell prey to his own desires. His eyes darkened, going so flat they looked to have become emotionless stone. But behind that barrier lay an anguish certain to remain throughout all the centuries to come, an endless ache far more profound than even the sorrow Amy had generously tried to comfort.

  Without restraint Amy welcomed the hunger she could feel if not see in a green gaze and willingly surrendered to the golden mesh of his attraction. She yearned upward, inviting the return of his potent kiss. And when his warm, ardent mouth descended, Amy sighed her delight.

  Again Comlan impatiently dispensed with a restraining net to tangle his fingers in an ebony cloud of luxuriant hair. He pressed short, teasing kisses against the corners of her enticing mouth before lightly brushing across lips going rosy beneath his ardor.

  His caresses tempted but refused to satisfy, and Amy's lips helplessly followed until at last she could bear no more. Then placing hands on firm cheeks, she stilled this torment by boldly initiating the kind of passionate bonding he'd demanded of her in times past.

  But soon, very soon Comlan showed her just how inexperienced she truly was by taking control and deepening the kiss to a devastating intimacy that drew a low moan from her tight throat. As his urgent hands swept from nape to the base of her spine, molding her hips against the powerful muscles of his thighs, her hands moved restlessly over him while with eyes closed she savored his strength, his masculinity.

  Mouth leaving hers, Comlan leaned back a brief distance. Hooded eyes gazed down into a beguiling face, and the undeniable hunger it revealed won a tense smile of male satisfaction. Amy was more beautiful in her honest passion than any female he'd ever known—a dangerous temptation even to one of his experience.

  Comlan knew he should step completely away, end it here but the craving that blazed in his blood was too fierce to be so easily smothered. Instead he claimed her berry-sweet mouth again. This kiss was even hotter, wilder, and filled with such desperate need that he foolishly positioned Amy more intimately against the hardening contours of his body.

  Amy arched instinctively and shuddered with unruly excitement as Comlan curved his hands over a perfectly rounded derriere. Lifting her up, he rubbed her against his throbbing need and groaned under
the almost painful pleasure.

  Fearing that in desolate futures spent alone they'd both regret this delicious folly, a harsh groan came from Comlan's throat. But it was too late, far too late to control their embrace and see it end before winning sweet satisfaction in their firestorm's explosion.

  Thoroughly caught in a spinning world of incredible, wicked sensations, Amy hardly noticed when Comlan swept her off her feet and gently laid her down on a green cushion of lush grass. She was so lost in a burning haze that she couldn't later recall if his fingers had unfastened her mulberry gown's neckline or if he'd parted its edges with magic. But never would she forget how he settled beside her, leaning above on one elbow to lower his mouth against the exposed arch of her throat. She would remember forever the first devastating touch of his lips against the curve of her breast that lit slow, steaming fires in her veins.

  Helpless to prevent the action, Amy reached up to tangle her fingers in cool golden strands and tug the shocking pleasure of his intimate caresses nearer. At the same time one masculine hand gradually glided up Amy's side with wordless admiration for the curve of hip and gentle dip of waist. She felt both threatened and cherished as tantalizing fingertips stroked over her with layer upon layer of burning sensations even while completely stripping her of the cloth hampering his access to silky skin.

  Pulling little more than a breath away from his tender prey, Comlan's gaze burned with emerald flames that seared while slowly studying the delicious sight of her lush body pillowed on thick ebony hair. He visually caressed the warm cream and deep rose flesh of this woman openly yielding herself to him.

  But still Comlan held back for the sake of lightly rubbing his mouth across the full bounty filling a large cupped hand to overflowing. Nuzzling Amy's breasts slowly, he cherished her softness until she trembled under flashes of wildfire. Only after a soft whimper escaped his sweet prey—earning the slight, satisfied smile of a predator intoxicated by the sound—did the whisper-light brush of his mouth across the peak yield what she innocently sought.