Once Upon a Time

by Marylyle Rogers

  Amy tugged Comlan closer still, senses unmercifully teased, wanting more, and arching against his mouth while another sweet moan slipped from her tight throat. Wandering through desire's dense smoke, she writhed against him in shattering intimacy and reveled in the dark fires of wicked sensations.

  Visions of the inevitable culmination impatiently beckoned, leaving Comlan aware that the end of his control was perilously near. Never more grateful for his amazing powers, in the blink of an eye he was rid of unwelcome clothing. After eliminating any need for a distracting pause, he was free to carry his temptress so deeply into passion's blaze that the unavoidable flash of pain would be lost amidst a maelstrom of flames. He pulled Amy into the hungry cradle of his arms, savoring the feel of her generous curves melding to his body while he again stroked exquisite torment slowly over her aching flesh.

  Shaking under sparks of wild pleasure, Amy twisted against Comlan's powerful form, driven to incite in him a measure of the unmanageable need he'd roused in her. As she sensuously moved against him, Comlan surrendered to a fever of unquenchable desire. He urged Amy back and rose above her to rest on his elbows, enabling him to gaze down into eyes gone black with wanting while slowly joining their bodies in the most intimate of embraces.

  Amy's instant of pain passed unnoticed in a firestorm of pleasures near too great to be borne. Overwhelmed by blazing sensations, she instinctively twined silken limbs about him in welcome and clung desperately to this burning source of delicious torment.

  Slowly, gently, Comlan began to rhythmically rock his naive temptress higher, ever higher on a whirlwind of flame. Then, when the once reserved colleen far beyond logic whispered her love for him, the last bonds of Comlan's control were incinerated. The rhythm grew wilder and wilder as he desperately swept the one he'd lose too soon up into the very center of passion's relentless tempest.

  Feverishly crying out as the spinning blaze of incredible sensations burst, Amy abruptly dropped from fiery heights down an impossibly steep, strangely thrilling precipice. And all the while a glittering shower of sparks rippled through every nerve in her body.

  Stunned by unbelievable pleasures she'd never suspected existed, moments later Amy drifted on billowing clouds of contentment. They carried her into a light sleep blessed with tender dreams of the fantasy lover whose powerful and very real chest supported her cheek.

  Satisfaction was intense but made bittersweet by the unpleasant tang of reality, as Comlan tightly closed his eyes against despairing truth. Although he loved Amy as surely as she loved him, it was a futile emotion destined to bring naught but the melancholy ache of loss. Amy could be excused for being unaware of the pain she'd dared in attempting to bridge the wide gulf between their worlds, but he assuredly had both the experience and years to know better.

  The only comfort Comlan could see for the future lay in the fact that at least Amy's lifetime of empty loneliness would be limited to decades—infinitely shorter than the centuries he'd endure.

  Chapter 14

  The sun had traveled beyond its journey's half-way mark when a feathery touch trailed from chin down an elegant throat to trespass in the sensitive valley between luscious breasts and gently nudge Amy toward wakefulness. Black lashes fluttered as the sleeper reluctantly roused, slowly becoming aware of the firm pillow beneath her cheek—warm and furred!

  Amy abruptly sat up. At the sudden action a strong hand unintentionally pulled the lock of ebony hair wielded to summon her from potent dreams. Despite the welcome fires and wicked pleasures recently shared, the woman raised to prim virtue was shocked to discover herself in a man's company totally bare… worse, publicly exposed on a hilltop for any idle wanderer to see.

  Snatching up her discarded dress, Amy wrapped herself in its cranberry folds and, horribly self-conscious, huddled like an awkward fowl at roost. She'd no doubt the hue burning smooth cheeks was as bright as her makeshift garb. And it was distressingly true that the crimson tide was unlikely to soon ebb when even carefully lowered eyes couldn't block a frightening, exciting awareness of the magnificent male body too near and as indecently naked as her own.

  "Don't worry." Comfortably lounging on a soft carpet of grass, Comlan lifted up on one elbow to gaze at his skittish love with a smile wry and yet so tender it could've melted a stone heart.

  Unfortunately, by refusing to look his way the frowning Amy failed to see either Comlan's devastating expression or the emotion it betrayed. Instead she was perversely annoyed by his attempted reassurance. What an easy thing for him to say. This fantasy figure could probably disappear—leaving her to seem a brazen trollop—in the same brief twinkling of an eye in which he'd appeared this morning in Daffy's cottage.

  Deep laughter rolled like velvet thunder from the fairy ring as Comlan sat up, powerful muscles flexing. Daffy's darlin' Amy was becoming remarkably adept at the kind of mercurial mood shifts rare in humans but admired in his realm. To spare his bashful colleen's belated modesty he casually draped the otherwise unnecessary jacket across his lap even as he spoke with lingering amusement.

  "Were the whole village to climb this peak and troop through Lissan's ring of flowers, we still wouldn't be seen."

  Comlan paused, giving Amy the opportunity to question his unambiguous reference to the use of magic—as she'd done more than once before.

  Amy remained mute and he continued.

  "Have you realized yet that it was by Daffy's design that we met?"

  Though lending unmerited attention to green blades crushed earlier by their intimate embrace, the corners of berry-sweet lips lifted as Amy nodded. "I suspected as much. She was so clearly disappointed after I chose not to confess our encounter that first afternoon that it seemed likely even then."

  "But do you know why?" Mocking humor lent a curious tilt to Comlan's question.

  Amy bit her lip to strangle a gasp stillborn. Did he? Had her great-aunt's teasing grins and blatant satisfaction at the sight of them together made her futile matchmaking hopes as apparent to him as to her?

  Comlan recognized the inaccurate assumption in Amy's flustered state. No, perhaps not inaccurate but only a part of the whole and not the intended subject of his query. He immediately spoke to clarify matters.

  "As the end of Daffy's long life draws nigh," Comlan began, slipping into a cadence of speech more comfortable to him, "her fortune's secure hideaway must be made known to someone from your world."

  The formality of these grim words demanded Amy's complete attention. Her wish to deny the bleak specter of death deepened gray eyes to charcoal, but she admitted its inevitability.

  "Daffy chose you," Comlan solemnly announced. "And her decision made our meeting necessary."

  Amy bit her lip even harder against this news that she'd completely misunderstood the manner of help her great-aunt needed. And, likely influenced by her own doomed wishes, she'd wrongly interpreted the older woman's reason for planning her meeting with the king of the Tuatha De Danann.

  Comlan found himself host yet again to emotions unsettling even to one with his mercurial nature. Aching to protect the vulnerable yet courageous Amy from potential grief, he was sorely tempted to risk shattering important rules for the sake of granting her the gift of happiness. But, Comlan sternly reminded himself, meddling in human affairs was more likely to bring trouble than peace. It was that truism espoused by Gran Aine, his great-grandmother and the previous ruler of the Faerie Realm, which held him back.

  For the good of them both, Comlan knew he must see his mission soon accomplished. And then he could prevent deepening the anguish of an inevitable parting by hastening back to his own realm before further treasured but bittersweet memories were added to the store already hoarded safely away.

  "Because your great-aunt's wealth has little value in my realm, it rests safe with me." Comlan reached out to gently release a small hand's desperate hold on dark red cloth and rubbed comfort across its back with his thumb. The action succeeded only in sending Amy's cloudy gaze skittering fart
her away.

  "When Daffy is gone," Comlan quietly added, holding Amy's fingers warmly in his much larger hand, "you need but to ask and I will deliver all or any part of the whole to you."

  This disclosure of the unexpected role she was intended to play broke Amy's determined preoccupation with the lovely yet curiously whimsical mix of flowers forming the fragrant ring encircling them.

  "Is this the action you said I and only I could take for Daffy's sake?"

  "Almost." Comlan's potent, mocking smile returned and intensified when Amy scowled her disapproval of his inadequate answer.

  "My great-aunt told me last night that if I asked you a question, you'd give me an honest answer." Amy looked squarely into Comlan's eyes. "Because I've asked and you haven't, I think you must take pleasure in trying to disconcert me."

  "Ahh…" Comlan's voice dropped into a chill tone revealing nothing of his satisfaction with her amazing perception. His cryptic answer hadn't been issued because he enjoyed her confusion but rather it was an impulsive test of her ability to deal with his true nature. And Amy had recognized, although slightly misinterpreted, the purpose behind his intentionally contrary actions. "I've been exposed."

  His stunningly handsome face had gone utterly blank at the very moment when Amy expected either anger or laughter. Nonetheless, she refused to be so easily diverted from her path and continued staring back at him with an intensity equal to his unblinking gaze.

  Impressed by her courage, Comlan rewarded it with an additional morsel of information.

  "Informing you is the first step toward ensuring that Daffy's wishes are respected now and after she has slipped away… by natural causes."

  "And the next step is…?" A thick mass of black hair cascaded over an unintentionally bared shoulder as Amy tilted her head with this question she refused to allow remain unanswered.

  "The next step is the one only you can perform." Comlan steadily met a somber, dove-gray gaze. "On returning to London, you must locate a reputable solicitor and arrange an appointment with him for both you and your great-aunt to keep."

  "London?" Amy was amazed. "Daffy can't have agreed to this. Not when she hasn't returned there even once since her marriage a good many years ago."

  "Can it be that you underestimate Daffy's tenacious will?" Comlan flashed a sardonic smile. "Or her obstinate determination to prevail against all odds."

  "Oh, no!" Amy firmly denied. "No, I'd never be so foolish as that."

  Comlan merely grinned wider and Amy, assuming it a further quirk of his illogical nature, continued with hardly a missed beat. "But what use a solicitor?"

  "When the pair of you meet with him," Comlan promptly responded, "an irrevocable trust can be legally prepared and signed."

  Amy frowned, reluctant to confess ignorance of such matters.

  To atone for the inadequate answers earlier provided, Comlan immediately explained. "Daffy, as bequeather, and you, as heir, must sign a document clearly listing your great-aunt's wishes for the disposal of her estate. Only the two of you, together, can change its terms. No later will produced during Daffy's lifetime can supplant it and after her death its provisions cannot be contested by anyone."

  Pondering the implications of this action and pleased by its promise of safety for Daffy, a slow smile warmed Amy's mouth. It widened as Comlan went on to succinctly outline this plan's expected conclusion and specify the goal to be won.

  "Once that document has been signed and the tale of its making—but not the heir's name—spread far and wide, further shenanigans can profit no one."

  It was true. Relieved that her logic hadn't been dulled by the rapid pace and alarming slant of recent events, Amy clearly saw the plan's excellent design. With Daffy's treasure literally hidden in a realm few humans would ever see and legally protected by the trust, her great-aunt would be safe. Yes, indeed, it was an admirable plan and one providing that although Comlan might not value analytical judgments, he was a master strategist and doubtless able to outreason any human she had or likely would ever meet.

  Gazing into the warm admiration in cloud-soft eyes, Comlan was struck by an urgent need to repeat a warning earlier given but likely dismissed.

  "Until that trust is signed and guarded by human laws, please tread cautiously around your friend Orville Bennett."

  Blinking rapidly, Amy was once again shocked by her companion's abrupt twist on a topic.

  "My parents are determined that I marry him." Amy slowly shook her head. "I think he's a pompous fool and mean to do all I can to thwart his intentions but…"

  Golden brows met in a fierce scowl. Comlan knew quite well the power human parents wielded over their daughters' choice of future mate. In most cases he found it amusing but not when it threatened Amy's happiness.

  Without sane forethought Amy moved closer, intending to smooth away that deep furrow. But Comlan caught the gentle fingers reaching toward him and buried his lips in her palm while the feel of his big, powerful body did exciting things to her senses. She was suddenly aware that here was another, likely final, chance to share a few intimate moments in her impossible love's arms. She ought to retreat into the cold world of sensible logic. But would she? No, she emphatically would not!

  When Comlan glanced up, Amy gazed directly into eyes that promptly flashed with dangerous green flames. And in the depths of their fire she saw visions of flesh against flesh that roused wildly thrilling memories of shocking sensations.

  Comlan lowered a mouth hard and warm to drink the intoxicating berry wine of hers with restrained ferocity. Once had been wrong. Twice would be madness. And yet not even his exceptional powers could prevent him from again claiming this incredible woman who with only human wiles had effortlessly pierced the armor protecting his heart for more time than mortal minds could easily grasp.

  Amy yielded eagerly to Comlan's demanding kiss, and as strong arms pulled her close, turning her full into his embrace, her body instinctively welcoming the power of his. In silent praise her hands smoothed over his broad chest, exploring its erotic combination of hard muscle and abrasive hair, and measured the width of his shoulders.

  Urged back against nature's soft bed by gentle hands, Amy felt herself sinking again into passion's fiery lake. She felt only his slow, burning caresses while mulberry cloth was dragged free to be once more discarded, unnecessary, unwanted.

  From above, emerald eyes took visual possession of the pale cream and tender rose of her sweet body. Interlocking his fingers with hers, he held her hands immobile above her head while hovering a tormenting whisper away and ravishing her mouth. Touching only at joined hands and lips, he deepened the kiss with devastating slowness until she writhed in an agony of need.

  As if to touch at any point would be to lose control too soon, Comlan pulled back but green flames scorched over the exquisite creature's lush curves until a moan welled up from her depths and she arched in wordless invitation.

  Driven by a craving stronger than his will, Comlan bent to her body and put his open mouth over her breast. Gasping beneath the shocking pleasure of a sweet suction, slender fingers reached up to tangle in golden strands and pull him even nearer. Amy was certain that never again in her life would she experience a shattering pleasure more intense until he moved to settle his whole long length atop her—hard chest against soft breasts, hip to hip, thigh to thigh.

  Their bodies merged again into delicious intimacy, twining, surging in the burning rhythm of passion. The tempo grew wilder and wilder until at last, bound tightly together in desperate abandon, an explosion of near unbearable tension seemed to split the earth below and open a sea of sweet satisfaction.

  When Amy awoke in Comlan's embrace a second time, she savored the experience, wanting to recall every detail, every sensation of their love play to cradle near as solace through all the lonely years to come.

  Comlan hadn't fallen asleep again. Instead, he'd cherished this precious woman in his embrace while she slept. But during the time since Amy began floating
up from the mists of sleep, he had almost come to regret the acuteness of senses making him too aware that she expected a forlorn future of unhappiness. Plainly she was seeing the same bleak, lonely destiny he'd been examining too closely since satisfaction lulled her into dreams. Knowing the vision wouldn't improve with prolonged viewing, he took measures to divert her attention.

  "If we want to keep Daffy from suspecting all that's happened between us here, we'd better make our way quickly down to her cottage."

  Amy pulled just far enough back to cast Comlan a glance of exaggerated scorn for the ridiculous suggestion that the older woman might somehow fail to guess as much anyway.

  Comlan's laughter soared as he gently moved Amy aside and sat up. "Ah, but no matter what pictures Daffy's hopes have painted, if we neither confess nor betray our actions, she'll never know for certain."

  So, as she'd initially thought, he did know what her great-aunt had schemed to inspire. A cranberry blur dropping from above landed in Amy's lap. Comlan had risen and retrieved their clothing.

  As Amy rugged on the disgustingly rumpled dress, she glanced sidelong to find Comlan already dressed—and looking remarkably fresh in unwrinkled garb.

  "Teh." Amy copied the sound of mild disgust she'd heard so often at home. "I see your powers have mundane uses as well."

  Comlan's white smile flashed. The narrowed gray eyes minutely examining his immaculate appearance made the source of Amy's complaint obvious. But it was what she said next that made it possible for him to act.

  "You look as unmussed as if we'd merely taken a sedate stroll through Hyde Park while I look as if I'd been doing"—Amy flushed but courageously finished—"exactly what I have been doing."