A Faerie Fated Forever (14 page)

“Heather, you asked why I would risk my life to save you. I did it because if I had not done so, I would have condemned myself to my father’s life, and I would have never known the joy my grandparents shared,” he said with his heart on his sleeve and his soul in his voice.

She shook her head no, stopped and nearly drowned in the eyes that shined with ....no, she shook her head harder.

He nodded yes. "Perhaps words are the wrong way to convince you."

He continued to nod yes to her no as he tightened his arms and drew her close. His mouth approached hers in the kiss he had sought all of his life. When his lips met hers at last, at long, long last, he felt a tug in his chest as his soul left his keeping. There was emptiness for a moment before he felt hers enter him. The kiss was tender and sweet but he could only keep the knot on his passion for moments before it slipped his control. He broke off the kiss when his craving for more became nearly irresistible.

He drew back and looked at her. Her golden eyes bore the first confused sparkling of desire, but doubt still colored her countenance. He knew that she didn’t assign his meaning to his words. She was his fate, but she must now learn that he was hers. She believed in the Maclee swipe, and that he would give it to her. He was a master of that particular game, but he never before played it for such high stakes. He lay back on the pillows and bent his elbows to place his arms behind his head. If she wanted to play, he would risk no motion that she could misinterpret.

The sparkle of a thousand sunrises was in her eyes. “I can play? I can even remove the covers?”

“One caution. Last night, when desire overtook me on the dance floor and I drew you to my groin you were shocked and delivered a sound slap that I doubtless deserved, though I will not pretend I enjoyed the experience. My staff is unusually large at rest and...”

She interrupted. “I’ve heard that you're hung like a horse.”

“I was trying to be delicate, minx. My point is that you were frightened and ran from me last night. I am currently much more aroused, and consequently much larger than I was then. If you continue, you must first promise that you will not run from me. If I shock you, just stop or cover me again. Promise?”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving the sheet. Then she grasped the edge and thrust it from him. He wore white trousers that had been tight and were now beyond indecent. The top of his sex rose above the trousers and was visible because she had bared his chest. When she didn’t touch him right away, his gaze flew to her in alarm to find her pink, panting for breath. She knelt on the bed, and rubbed her thighs together as a betraying spot of moisture appeared on the front of her gown. She was aroused, and he groaned with the knowledge that he couldn’t touch her because this was about proof. It was about allowing her touch, not indulging his need.

Her hand crept towards his throbbing erection, treating it like a python about to strike, which wasn’t far from the truth. Then it crept slower still and he realized that she awaited his swipe. With a sudden rush she closed the last wee distance. She skimmed his length, measuring with a shy feather stroke of her fingertips. He writhed from a mixture of intense pleasure at her touch and intense pain from clenching against the release battering him. She closed her fingers, tightening her grip, and he thrust against the pressure applied just where he needed it.

She stopped but did not withdraw her hand. She stared at him with a glowing, puzzled expression. The question puffed from her lips in separate pants that he heartily wished were expelled a little lower. “All of the women who touch you here get brushed aside. Nial, aren’t you going to swipe my hand away?”

He was silent for a moment and then just shook his head no.

“Why not?”

“Love, there is one particular set of hands I have awaited my entire life. Those hands I won’t swipe away.” His navy eyes were filled with tenderness and love as he made the statement, fully aware that she would not accept it yet.

“Nial, are you saying…” she trailed off. When she spoke again, a hard edge colored her tone. "No. I must be barmy. You almost had me. You're good. You're very good. But I won't fall for it. I know how that goes. I make the naive suggestion and then you score with a harsh taunt you tell all your friends about. I told you before, I've grown up. You're just another frog. A great big, full of himself toad frog."

Amphibians again? He shook his head to clear away the cobwebs and decided to try once more. Only this time, he'd say it straight out. He'd say it and put it out there, without leaving himself anything to fall back on. After all, if he fell, he'd be alone, a plummet without end.

“Heather, my love, I am saying that you are my fate. I can promise you that I am yours to touch in any way you choose, at any time you choose, and I will never ever swipe your hands away.” His gaze was steady, but hers was nervous and darting.

She didn’t accept the truth of his words. Only time and his actions would convince her ultimately, so he lay impatiently, hoping her hands would return to him. She slithered over on the bed and spread her hair across him, moving to trail the strands over the pulsing head of his staff, mumbling, "If my hair doesn't incite the swipe, nothing will."

When it didn't come, she swayed her brown rainbow back and forth across his jutting organ. "Why didn't that work?" She whispered, starting to pulling her hair away. Then he thrust up on his heels, seeking the ticklish torment. She laughed and replaced her hair with the tips of her fingers, brushing the opening at the end of his sex as she felt a responsive burst of hot moisture from her own. She wet a finger and traced the opening and at the first wet brush a pulse of ecstasy escaped his control. She caught it with her finger. "I did this to you? This pearly fluid is your passion in physical form, isn't it?" She looked directly into his eyes as she slowly raised the finger to her mouth and suckled, unaware of her own low moan of desire.

The act was so unexpected from his lovely little virgin that it carried him beyond the control he had been trying so hard to grasp. He groaned, “Ahh God, sweetheart. I need, Jesus, sweet, I need relief. I …”

As he spoke he thrust himself into her hands, asking without words, helpless against a demand that had become a necessity. All words left him as her hands returned, measuring and pressing and squeezing in untutored, untrained abandon. He couldn’t anticipate how or where she would touch, he could merely thank his creator that she touched at all. His pleasure blazed from his eyes just before it emerged from his manhood. She played in the liquid as it spurted, using it to trace her initials on his belly – a possessive act he would have tolerated from no other female on earth.

When he caught his breath, she still played at her tracing game. Then he sat up. “You can carve your name in my flesh if you wish. Or shall we brand me instead?” He reached for her. “Come here, love. I would taste you again.”

He took her lips tenderly but his tongue soon sought entry to her mouth and tenderness dissolved to raw passion as he felt himself stir again. He smiled against her mouth when she dug her nails into his shoulders as she bit his lower lip. Her tongue rose to duel with his and he was lowering her to the mattress when she halted his advances.

"I have to go. Da is expected this afternoon and we will dine at home as a family tonight."

She was restless and antsy. He knew what ailed her, but dared not test his control by giving her relief now. As it turned out, there wasn’t time, for a knock came, followed by his cousin’s voice at the door. She stood, delightfully rumpled, and he sprang up with her, yelling as he did, “Boz, you buffoon, bloody well shut up for a minute.”

He leaned against the door, hating to let in the outside world.

She sighed regretfully. “I never got to see your, your… I only saw the top of it.”

At her boldness her face flamed red and he chuckled. He tilted her chin and caressed her face with his tongue, and just before his lips met hers again he said, “Perhaps we can remedy that tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Join me for a picnic at sunset love and I’ll take care of you as well,” he promised.

“Take care of me?” She inquired, playing with his chest hair and lightly scratching his pebbling nipples.

“You’re feeling a bit angry and cheated, aren’t you? Like I scaled a mountain to see the peak and left you behind. I’ll fix that tomorrow. If you’ll come,” he said, aware that his world hinged on her response.

“Does your promise about not swiping my hands away hold tomorrow too?” She asked, confirming that he was right, they had a long way to go before she could believe in him again.

“It holds for all the tomorrows there are, love. Can I pick you up at 3?” He pressed for a decision, a promise. He needed a commitment, even if only to another meeting.

She nodded yes, and smiled and was still smiling as he walked her downstairs. He wore no shirt, had stains on his white trousers that advertised what they had been doing, which is exactly what he smelled like. Her lips were swollen and clearly just kissed, her hair fell in wild disarray and her gown was wrinkled beyond repair. He walked her anyway, amazed that his feet actually met the floor and conscious that he wore a stupid grin he’d laughed at besotted friends for donning for years.

He was well aware that Boz missed nothing of their appearance, and he even knew that the bastard was barely biting back a hearty laugh as he opened the door and curried many glances from the passersby. None of the attention bothered him and if she had asked he would have gladly carried a banner proclaiming exactly what they just engaged in.

After all, compromising her was the least of his worries. He could seduce her body, but he couldn’t seduce her heart, her trust or her soul. For the first time in his life, he wanted much more than sex.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Nial spent most of the next day in his room, pacing and willing the time away.

Separation from Heather felt unnatural, and had he been at home he would have put an end to it last night. Aye, he would have taken her from her bed and had her to a priest within an hour. Within two he would have been buried so deeply within her that neither would know where one ended and the other began. As roiled up as he felt, he knew that when his lady finally bore his name, he would be on her and in her morning, noon and night. The elders would surely complain that he was neglecting clan affairs.

He laughed aloud at that thought. Nay, the elders would not complain a bit. They would begin eyeing Heather’s tummy, assured that with the laird’s intense interest, she would sooner, rather than later, carry the heir they were so bloody concerned about. At the thought, he suddenly saw their bairns – a lad with hair of every shade of brown in the rainbow and Nial’s navy blue eyes, and a little lass with Nial’s black locks and golden eyes. He felt his eyes fill with traces of moisture that were so unusual for him it was a moment before he identified it as tears. He reached up to dash them away with impatience and glanced up to see a grinning jackal staring back at him.

“Do you never knock, man?”

“I knocked repeatedly. When there was no answer, I stuck my head in and saw you standing in the middle of the room in some kind of damned trance. What’s going on? We have not seen you all day,” Boz was concerned.

“I’m a wee bit impatient,” Nial admitted with an apologetic shrug, “but I did not mean worry you.”

“Impatient? Ahh, there must be a planned outing with the fair Heather today. I wanted to talk to you about her. Considering how the two of you appeared when she left your room yesterday, and the stain on the front of your trousers, I have grave doubts that you are taking our plan seriously.”

“It was a bloody stupid plan. I don’t want Heather thinking I’m courting someone else. I don’t need her to be jealous – I simply need her to be mine. And yes, there is an outing today. I’m taking her on a picnic.”

“You’d better speed up your work. Rumor has it that her father arrived in town late yesterday.” Sedgewick waited for the meaning of that to penetrate, but finally decided that his friend was currently incapable of thinking about anything other than future conjugals.

.“Talk is that a number of the young bloods would like to take a trip down the altar with her. All of them have awaited the appearance of her father to seek her hand. You may find a line at the study when you arrive to pick her up for your picnic.”

Nial whirled and advanced on him, the green-eyed monster firmly riding his shoulders, and a blood lust in his eyes that he heretofore wore only prior to a battle. Boz held up his hands saying “not me.” The laird had to content himself with punching the wall. His fist made a nice hole in the plaster and he returned to pacing the room as his cousin left laughing.

******

Heather spent the morning anticipating the afternoon outing, She had mixed emotions about it, for she knew full well that she was not Nial’s fate. What was he up to? The man riding the evil Sorcha may have been drugged. He said so and her memories and herbal knowledge made her believe the account. However, his confessed intent had been to drive her away. So Heather paced too.

“Let me get this straight. The man risked certain death to save you yesterday, and he outright told you that you were his fate, but you don’t believe him.” Viv said. "I admit, half Scot by blood or not, I'm far too English to take all this talk of faeries seriously. Let's move on to a subject I do take seriously. What happened after you got back to Sedgewick’s house?”

Heather’s profuse blush was its own answer.

“Well,” she demanded a verbal response, more to needle her cousin than anything else.

“He let me touch him.”

“Touch him how?” Viv wanted details.

“Any way I wanted.” She wasn’t in the mood to provide them.

“As far as I know, you're the only marriageable lady ever given carte blanche to touch the handsome laird without getting the Maclee swipe. Or did he? Did he swipe your hands away?”

“Not yet.”

“How was it? You say Geoff’s kiss and attempts to grope you only inspired panic. How did touching him feel?”

Heather sighed before she plopped down on the bed to try to describe the indescribable. “It was like holding fire. It made me feel powerful and weak and achy and melting all at the same time.”

“But you’re afraid to trust him?”

“Seeing him with the black widow killed every dream an innocent young girl had. He was my faerie tale prince and he was going to love me forever. When I saw him spending himself in that witch, all my dreams died. A big part of me died with them.” She twisted to face her cousin who had grasped her hand and had tears in her eyes, “So I came here to craft new ones. Now he’s appeared offering every fantasy I ever had on a silver platter. If I allow myself to trust him and he doesn’t deserve my trust, I won't survive it.”

"You know I'm a strong believer in female power. There are pitifully few ways for a woman to be in control. More of us need to decide our own futures instead of simply handing them over to our fathers or husbands. If you could, would you give yourself to him fully? Would you know his passion as completely as possible, and let him teach you of your own?”

“I think I could never feel complete as a woman if I miss the chance to know Nial. But how can I risk it?”

“I have a plan. I have a business opportunity in America. It’s a new place where a strong woman can make her own way. I’ve made an investment there. With the help of a friend, I've located a gold claim in California. I will make enough money to start my own business and return here as an independent businesswoman in control of her own fortune. Perhaps I will even create a deceased husband. Then I can be a widow running a former spouse’s business. Such things have been done, you know. You can come with me and make your way in America too. So take your chances with Nial. Test him and when you are ready, know him in every way you want to. If it turns out that he isn't on the level, if he betrays you again, then you walk away and come with me and we start in a new place together.”

Heather drew in a breath and forgot to release it. When her cousin playfully punched her stomach, she gasped for air and said, “You would do that for me? Why, I could risk jumping off the cliff, knowing that I have a safe place to land. Well, I can as long as I keep my wits about me and don’t take Nial seriously. I can take the physical risk, thanks to you and I won’t get hurt too badly as long as I don’t trust him with more than that.”

Viv’s eyes sparkled wickedly. “Well, if you plan to take the leap and grub with himself today, we better see that you are suitably garbed to inspire some really serious grubbing.”

About an hour after luncheon, Bonnie swept into the room. “There are several young men downstairs demanding to speak with your father. I think they all mean to ask for your hand my dear.” Your father is none to eager to speak with them. I believe his choice would keep you with us on Skye. So I’m here as your mother, pet. Tell me what you want.”

Heather’s smile held only a trace of sadness. “Need you ask?”

“He hurt you baby and if we had this talk yesterday I would have been furious that you would consider him again. Today is different because yesterday, he faced death without a thought of himself to save you. That is the ultimate act of a man in love. Trust me, having a man put you before himself is a rare experience, and if you have the chance for a love like that it’s worth risking even the Maclee again.”

Sweeping to the door, Bonnie promised, “Carrick will put them off for a while. He seems anxious to see Nial, though assuredly not as anxious as you, my dear. The others will be a fallback. ‘Tis a smart woman who leaves herself an option to fall back on, and you have several. They are getting a bit contentious though. Our warriors and those of Laird Nial who accompanied your father are on standby to break up any battles.”

“Oh, surely it won’t come to that, Mother. You exaggerate,” Heather protested.

“On the contrary, when Carrick's choice and yours apparently, arrives and is allowed to whisk you away without a chaperone, I predict that blows may be exchanged. But never fear, my money is on the Highlanders every time.”

She bounded up and crushed her Mother in an excited hug. “I get to spend time alone with Nial”

Laughing as she exited, Bonnie proclaimed, “Indeed you do. lass. I don’t know what passed between them before he left for London in a tearing hurry as I hear it, but Carrick is firmly convinced that Maclee's intentions are above honorable. He’s positive that they’re set in stone. Or perhaps written on a faerie cloud.”

******

The Highland laird who usually led a fearless and bloody charge into the battles he expected to, and usually did, win, acknowledged that his nerves had trounced him this time. Nial approached the house, straightening the hem of his kilt for about the tenth time. He preened like the women trying to attract or keep his interest. That shoe didn't fit so well now that it sat on his foot.

He ruefully acknowledged that he'd planned his garb today with more care than he'd ever taken with it before. Nial wore full Highland regalia, complete with sporran. When he left the house with his fate on his arm, he'd be a Scot. His attire would remind her that they shared their cherished Isle of Skye. Not only that, but he wore his kilt in the traditional Scottish manner so his privates were getting an air bath. He disdained a coat, and wore a linen shirt with sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons open. If Heather wanted access to any of him, it was hers as was he.

His biggest fear about the outing was of the extent of his control. If she touched him as he guessed - hoped - she would, he didn’t know how he could hold out. If he saw her as nature made her, he didn’t think he’d have a prayer of doing it. He promised her satisfaction, but intended to give it to her short of consummation. He did not want to dishonor her before she was his wife, but had grave doubts about whether his resolution could survive those claws of passion.

The Butler answered his knock and escorted him to the back of the house where, true to Boz’s bloody sixth sense, five men waited in a line outside the study. Badgerton stood at the head of the line. At his entrance, the others shifted uneasily. Geoff broke out laughing and his laughter grew in intensity, until he began nudging others with his elbow and they passed it on until the lot of them cackled and stared.

Badgerton approached within a few feet. “Tell me, Laird Maclee, where did you get that fine purse you carry? I believe my sister has one like it. All that talk of faeries and such, well I should’ve guessed they would save one of their own. Are you a faerie, indeed? Do you wear that dress to give the blokes easy access?”

An older man appeared, also garbed in a kilt, and his stormy countenance would have convinced many to shut up, but Badgerton’s tongue sped ahead of his brain, as he gestured to Carrick. “You like them older, Nial? Tell me, which of you fine ladies puts it in the other? Or maybe you take turns. That’s it, share and share alike, right?”

Heather and Bonnie had started descending the stairs just before Badgerton began to speak. When they heard his outburst, they cast an alarmed glance at each other before they gathered their skirts and ran. Nial’s fist connected with Geoff’s face and then his stomach with enough force to double him over. A hearty kick sent English to the floor, where Nial held him by the pressing his shoe to the sprawled man's chest.

“You bloody ass
.
Your insult of the proud dress of my Highlands I’ll excuse as the product of
Sassannach
ignorance. Your insult of me cannot be taken seriously and I’ll excuse it as the product of jealousy, for I know you foolishly covet my Heather.”

The other man tried to rise, sputtering at Nial’s possessive reference, but the laird kicked him back to the ground, and applied greater pressure, this time directly to his throat. “But your insult of Laird Carrick, I’ll not tolerate. A little more pressure, just here and I’d snap your silly neck like a twig. If I keep the pressure up here, you will die just the same, but you will have time to make a few painful gasps for breath before you expire. So on the whole, I believe it’s here I shall stand.”

Carrick, already well pleased at Nial's defense, smiled when Heather followed her mother into the room. At the sight of his lass, the fierce light of battle in Maclee's eyes transformed into another light entirely. Heather ran to him, cutting a fine figure in her simple gold gown, which matched her exotic eyes. It was closely fitted to her body and worn off the shoulders.

Badgerton's harsh gasps for breath drew MacIver's attention, and he said, "You'll have to decide what to do with him, lad. I've fought at your side and I know that many a finer man than this vermin has met his death at your hands. Shall this pathetic
Sassannach
have the honor of being next?"

Heather’s fingers played through the sprigs of black hair on Nial’s forearm as she leaned closer. “Let him go. I do not wish today to be marred by death or violence.” She put a hand to his cheek, and he pressed against it with half-lowered lids. “Please, for me.”

He lightened the pressure a bit but did not let the other man up. “Heather, my love, the bastard insulted your father.” The light of true alarm flared in Geoff’s eyes as he glanced quickly at the other Scot and for the first time made the connection.