Irish Moon (32 page)

Ashlon’s face was upturned, staring at the
moon above, his mouth open. A smile spread from her lips to her
heart watching the awe touch him. What must it be like to have had
his faith so shaken by past events and to see this splendor now?
She hoped it nourished his soul and offered a bit of faith in
her.

When he looked at her, questions showed in
his eyes but he held them back and only nodded at her. Breanne
didn’t miss the swallow he took either.

She took his hand and led him to the stone
altar. To him it likely appeared to be no more than a good and
square-ish shaped boulder among others that were round. Breanne saw
differently.

The stone slab glowed faintly and its energy
vibrated through her. When she’d told Ashlon they could not come
here, she had meant that they could not yet retrieve the chest.
Gannon’s deciphering did not spell the path she’d traveled
countless times, it showed the words that would lay open the stone
and reveal the chest inside.

But, revealing the chest depended on a level
of magick Breanne had never experienced before let alone created.
She took a trembling breath and knelt, as well. She withdrew the
candles and placed them in a three points along the stone’s tabled
surface. Her hands shook.

From the corner of her eye she saw Ashlon
press his eyes closed and mouth words she hoped were not heavenly
prayers for escape or forgiveness. They needed the earthly
Goddesses’ ears tonight, not the heavenly father’s.

Of Morrigan’s trinity, she needed Macha for
destruction. From Brigit, she would ask help in opening the well
within the stone where the chest lay. And Sheela-na-gig for
providence and help in birthing the chest forth.

Ashlon’s mouth stopped moving but his eyes
remained closed. No matter, so long as he did not intercede with
the ritual.

Breanne opened Heremon’s book to the image of
the chest. She rotated the book so that the image became upside
down. She read the words in reverse and then forward again. With
Gannon’s help, their meaning was now clear to her.

She lit the candles, thankful to have
Ashlon’s eyes shut, with a soft blow and whisper to each. She
withdrew her athame and released a shaky breath.

“You’re not going to try to kill me with that
tiny thing, are you?” Ashlon whispered.

Breanne sagged and gave him a glowering look.
“No,” she whispered back. She returned her attention to the
slab.

“It’s much smaller than I recall. I can’t
believe you accosted me with such a puny blade.”

Breanne glared at him. “I didn’t. I accosted
you with my boline. They are a set. But, I was a bit distracted
that morning and fear I left it in the grass.”

“
Aye, you left it there.
Then you walked away from me unprotected.”

“Aye, now, please keep quiet, Ashlon,” she
said, exasperated, ignoring his scolding tone. “I need to
concentrate and you should, as well.”

“My apologies. Nerves, I suppose.”

“Shhh.”

Ashlon winced and closed his eyes again. But,
she hadn’t missed the bewildered look in them upon seeing the lit
candles and her hand lifted ready to scry the air. She hoped he
could handle whatever happened.

Breanne started over.

She took another breath and was relieved to
notice it came out smoothly this time. The interruption had helped
ease her tension, as well. She felt ready.

Scrying the air in a clockwise circle around
them, Breanne spoke the words in Gaelic. She enclosed them in,
feeling the energy compress and surround them. The magickal
vibration was still subtle but present.

She began the chant in slow careful words,
keeping in counts of threes until the trance pulled her in and drew
her up. The edge of trees surrounding the clearing blurred,
becoming moonlit green, haze and mist. The stone shifted and the
candles disappeared.

Breanne rose, the book with its glowing pages
set aside. Ashlon remained as still as stone as she lifted her arms
to the sky and reached into the depths of her being for her last
draw of hope and love and need.

The night air roared in her ears, through her
body as the vibration grew. With the words as arrows she shot them
into the night air, willing them to find their target and splay
open the stone well.

As her body drained, she fought to collect
her composure and stay on her feet, terrified that she might fail.
Like a bolt of lightening, something bright uncoiled from her.
Breanne fought to harness the power and charged the altar with it,
knocking her onto her back, unconscious.

Chapter Nineteen

Ashlon didn’t believe his eyes. The silence
brought them open in time to witness a blue-ish air of curling
lights reach out and slice into the large rock she’d brought them
to. He’d never seen anything of the like and it all occurred
soundlessly before him.

When Breanne fell back in an apparent faint,
Ashlon caught her, saving her head from cracking open on a sharp
rock. He was torn between shaking her awake and demanding to know
why in the world she had endangered herself so, and holding her
close.

Holding her won out. His eyes flashed from
the fallen chunks of stone to the extinguished candles, still
smoking, and back to her pale face.

He bent his head close to hear she breathed.
His heart galloped in his ears. He touched her neck to feel hers
softly beat. Both her breathing and heartbeat felt far too shallow
and he feared he might lose her.

Ashlon stroked her hair and whispered her
name while he cradled her. The chest’s lid crested the remaining
square of rock, but he cared naught but for her. If she were hurt,
he would never forgive himself or Jacques for bringing about such a
disaster.

Her eyes did not move, nor her limbs. Her
mouth’s normally rosy hue looked whitish and dry. And worst of all,
he had no inkling of a notion as to how to help her. The ache that
had woke him that morn gripped him now, sharper than ever
before.

He would rather lose the chest than her,
would choose to lose his own life instead. He’d shout to the
heavens, command them to open up and bless her, but he’d not risk
letting her go. Instead he held her closer, kissing her cold
brow.

He had never guessed the Bloodstone, resting
inside the stronghold, would create this kind of harm. He’d have
left it where she found it, might have sunk the rock into the
depths of the sea rather than face this corollary.

“Breanne,” he said, his voice choked.
“Breanne, open your eyes. Breanne, please, don’t yet leave this
world. I beg of you, stay with me.” He bent his head and pressed
his forehead to hers. Her skin was dangerously cold, clammy. “Do
not let him take you.”

Ashlon lifted her closer, rocking her there
in his arms, fighting off the sting in his eyes. He didn’t know how
or when she had become so important to him, but no longer denied it
was true.

“Please, open your eyes. I need you here with
me.”

A rush of warm air passed through the wood,
ruffling his hair. It washed over, between them. With it, Breanne
breathed in a deep, shaky breath and began to cough in his arms.
Ashlon pulled back. Her eyes opened and adjusted, blinking several
times.

“What happened?” Breanne asked like a child
coming out of a dreaming sleep.

Laughter bubbled low inside of Ashlon and
spilt from his chest, echoing in chortles through the shadows and
moonlight. He couldn’t resist hugging her tightly to him.

“You did it,” he said after squeezing her
close.

“I did what, exactly?” Breanne looked
confused but returned the hug, somewhat.

Ashlon tilted her upward to sit in front of
the exploded rock.

Breanne rubbed her head and got to her knees.
She wobbled some and he supported her elbow until they both stood
over the dusty chest and rubble.

“
I did.” She shook her head
in amazement. Her hand covered her mouth, but it didn’t tremble. “I
always dreamed I would someday, knew somewhere deep down, that I
could but, oh Ashlon—.” She faced him, her smile reaching past her
fingers’ cover. “I charged the rock to break, and it
broke.”

“Aye.” He nodded. “I don’t believe you
realize what you’ve just accomplished. And I cannot fathom how, but
I will never question my faith in miracles again.”

It was Breanne’s turn to laugh deeply. The
husky sound stirred his body. The color in her cheeks was rosy
again; her lips plump and reddened. Relief could not fully define
what surged through him as he watched her joy.

He laughed, as well, and swept her into his
arms and spun her. She clung to him then dropped her head back,
looking up to the stars and moon and sky.

“Do you know, it rather felt miraculous,” she
said. “Like a life of its own that went beyond me, through me, like
I was not me at all.”

He set her to her feet but kept his arms
about her waist. She did not seem to mind them there and he could
not yet release her.

“I often considered what it would feel like.
But, nothing prepared me for that. I don’t wonder that Heremon
warned me so frequently to take care of what I desired. The force
of it was nigh powerful as, well, as love, I suppose.”

Ashlon frowned, involuntarily tensing. The
ache came back.

“As you feel when you love another so
fiercely, so thoroughly, that your own existence seems secondary.
Do you ken what I mean?”

The ache clutched his heart. Her eyes
sparkled with delight and her words came out in pants of
excitement. A hundred reasons why he should not kiss her sprang to
mind. And not a single one managed to stop the beating need
coursing through his entirety.

He knew the very instant recognition laced
her features, her gaze falling upon his mouth, and took its
invitation. He pressed his mouth to her and felt suddenly desperate
to feel, to know, her every last living inch.

Her hands fisted into his mantle, she rose up
on her toes to meet his ardor with her own, clamoring for the same
closeness he sought.

Breanne’s mind went blank save one thought.
Tomorrow, he would be gone. She could not bid him stay or hope he
would ever return. She appreciated the magnitude of his task’s
completion. Her portend, Heremon’s letter. Tomorrow, he must be
gone from there.

But, tonight he could be hers.

As though he reached her conclusion, as well,
Ashlon’s hungry kiss suddenly slowed. Desperation left his touch
and an exquisite tenderness took its place.

His hands stroked her in sure, loving
caresses from her hair to her lobes to her collarbone and down the
length of her arms. At her hands, he laced his fingers into hers as
his mouth pressed and suckled hers. His fingers tickled her palms
while his mouth inflamed her.

Shivers danced up her spine and over her
scalp. A swirling warmth lit in her belly and roiled downward to
burrow between her thighs. By now, her body knew this dream and
opened to it like a dewy blossom at dawn. Her body knew this want
for his as well, but now her mind and heart where in compliance.
The difference it made was staggering.

What had felt like a clamoring storm,
building and washing her in unpredictable turns changed to sweeping
dawning.

With deft moves, Ashlon lifted her and laid
her onto the bed of grass, never breaking contact with her lips.
Without hesitation, she reached for him, parted her legs, already
hungering for him.

Her mind grew fuzzy and images of the forest
and trees and his hands upon her filled her mind. His hands roved
from her neck to her breast to her ankle. Vivid anticipation
emboldened her as well. She let her fingers entreat lower as well,
down his broad chest, across his belly to the lip of his tunic. The
magick that vibrated from without seemed to come from within her
now. Reality spilled away.

Ashlon's hand slid her skirt upward, drawing
a line up her inner thigh. Breanne gasped at the sheer delight of
it and opened her legs further. The heat between her legs swirled
and stoked. muscles there flexed and swelled at his approach. He
paused, lifted and removed his tunic. Following suit, her eyes
locked to his, Breanne unlaced her bodice. His gaze broke from hers
and raked over her flesh. He helped her expose it, then freed his
own, breeches and all.

Expertly, Ashlon undressed her and then
himself. Her cloak became a blanket and the night, their cover. The
cool air chilled as his body warmed.

His supple skin. His hard muscles. His soft
touch.

Feeling his skin on hers satisfied and
awakened a deeper part of her need than she knew possible. His hand
lifted her thigh as he nestled his hips between hers. He was so
close, so very close and she couldn't help but lift up to try to
capture his touch. But his hand only paused and his hips drew
away.

She whimpered, biting her lip.

Breanne opened her eyes and found his looking
down into hers. In them, his question shone. He did not ask aloud,
did not break the spell.

She didn’t need to be asked. She wanted to
experience him in the fullest realm.

To answer, she moved his head to hers, raking
her hands into his hair. Ashlon groaned from someplace deep inside
and it rumbled in the air and through her. She lifted her hips,
need driving her closer, aching for more. She let her body lead
her.

Ashlon cupped her breast and teased a nipple
with his thumb. Her nipple tightened. Her need climbed. She moaned,
closed her eyes. His hand returned to her thigh, higher, closer to
her very core. Liquid desire pooled there.

He grazed her neck with his teeth. “Breanne.”
Her name felt like a prayer on his lips.

She wanted to answer it and moved her hips to
his, hungering to take him in. But he was too far away. She reached
her hand downward, desperate to find his hard prick, to feel its
shape and size in her palm, to lead it closer.