Motor City Fae (27 page)

“Really? You mean it?” Ever-volatile, she was instantly elated, and she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He did manage a quick conference with the security detail first, of course. Since the Rose family staff had been using the portal regularly, he was pretty sure it hadn’t been booby-trapped, and the guards would go through first, of course, to make sure the place was secure.

Once Kieran gave the all-clear, Ric took Meagan by the hand and stepped through the doorway. They’d both changed into jeans and Ric wore his sword belted around his waist. He’d also had Meagan leave her Louisville Slugger in a nice prominent place, where she could easily ’port it if needed. Unsatisfied, but out of ideas, he led her through the portal.

“Oh my God!” Meagan’s voice was hushed with awe.

They’d stepped into a small chamber frescoed with climbing roses all over the walls and ceiling. A few pieces of carved and upholstered furniture nestled in the corners, along with a small desk.

“This is basically a reception room,” Ric explained. “If you had important guests coming who didn’t want to travel conventionally, you might have them come through the apartment to here, so a servant would be stationed at the desk to check them off and announce them as they arrived.” Not to mention guards to make sure it was only the right guests, but he didn’t think she needed to hear that right now.

“Those roses look positively real.” She reached out to trace the line of a petal with her fingertip. “I wonder if one of my ancestors painted these. Maybe the artist thing is inherited.”

“Your great-grandmother, my lady.” The estate steward and his wife stood in the doorway. “She was brilliant, by all accounts. Many of the rooms are decorated with her work. And the carvings here and at the apartment were done by another ancestor.”

“It’s so weird.” Meagan shook her head and raised wide eyes to Ric. “My whole life I was a blank page, no history at all. Now suddenly there’s so much. I can’t take it all in.”

He understood. A lump formed in his throat as he thought about his own parents. At least Meagan now knew that she’d been loved and wanted. He knew he’d been thrown away.

He kept quiet as the servants gave Meagan the grand tour. She cried when she saw the portrait of her parents, one painted from a photograph taken at their joining ceremony. Emery had married his bride legally for her world in Las Vegas, before he brought her here to merge their life essences. Ric knew Aidan had witnessed the ceremony and taken the pictures, and he was sure that one day soon, Aidan would sit down and share all those memories with his newfound cousin. For now, all Ric could do was hold her close and dry her tears.

It was night by the time Meagan got her first look at Underhill outside the palace. For the most part it looked like anyplace else she’d ever been. Same sky, same moon, same stars. Except that maybe they seemed a bit—closer?

Brighter? Something.

And then there was the rose garden.

Rosemeade was phenomenal, of course, putting Aidan’s Grosse Pointe mansion to shame. But she’d sort of come to expect that. What she hadn’t expected was the incredible sense of family history that permeated the place. She knew that when she had the chance, she’d have to spend a few weeks here going through photo albums and diaries and such. Not now, but later, when she could get a handle on her emotions.

She also had totally spaced out about the issue of technology in the elven world. On the surface, everything seemed so medieval; she hadn’t expected to find a stereo and a stack of record albums in her father’s old bedroom.

Or a KitchenAid mixer in the kitchen. Ric had explained that the technology worked, sort of, powered by magic instead of electricity. But it was considered impolite to display it in public and there were no broadcasts, or Internet to tap into. She was glad that the social restrictions didn’t apply to plumbing facilities. Now that she thought about it, the bathrooms in the palace had been fully functional.

But the rose garden was simply—magical. There was no other word for it. Tiny lights like fireflies or Christmas tree lights twinkled in the greenery, but there were no cords.

“The origin of the phrase ‘fairy lights,’” Ric murmured.

“Are they alive?”

“No. Just magic.”

Just magic. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to be cavalier about it.

The roses glowed in the light of the sparkles and stars.

The garden was huge, she couldn’t see where it ended, but that might have been careful design as much as size.

Trellises arched over the cobblestone pathway and carved stone benches nestled between beds. The ground was carpeted with lavender and flowering thyme, filling the air with a spicy counterpoint to the heady aroma of the roses.

They followed the winding path, hands twined together. Right before they made a turn, she paused and looked at the house. Though palatial on the inside, from the outside it resembled a simple cobblestone cottage. “It is the house from my first painting, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“All this time, I thought they were only dreams.”

“No.” They walked on till they came to a small white wooden pergola, covered, of course, with tiny pink climbing roses. Inside was a cushioned bench and Ric drew her into it, pulling her close for a kiss.

It seemed like forever since they’d been together in Chicago, though she supposed it had really only been sixteen hours or so. But so much had happened and so much had changed that it felt like a lifetime.

“Goddess, I missed this!” Ric’s groan echoed her own thoughts. He sat on the bench, drawing her down into his lap. She molded her body to his, trying to get as close as humanly—or magically—possible and burrowed her hands up under his Ramones T-shirt.

“Is anybody else likely to come out here?” She managed to speak only after his lips left hers to travel down the side of her throat. His hands were already inside her tank top, cupping the sides of her breasts while his thumbs rasped across her nipples.

“Not if they don’t have a death wish.” He nipped the tendon where her shoulder met her throat. “I told the guards to keep watch outside the rose garden until we get back.”

“Smart man.” She shifted so she was straddling his legs, pressing her damp jeans down against the bulge in his. “With way too many clothes on.”

“Umm-hmm.” He captured her mouth for another kiss, one that had her grinding against him. Then he pulled back and dropped a feather-light kiss on the tip of her nose. “Wanna see a cool trick?”

“Sure.” He’d already shown her more than she’d ever known about making love. She trusted him.

He held his hand out to the side and concentrated for a second. Then Meagan squealed as she realized he now held her jeans in his outstretched hand. He’d blinked them right off her body.

“Oh, that is cool. But don’t ever do it when I’m not expecting it.” She closed her eyes and thought for a second and sure enough, there was his T-shirt, wadded up in her hand. “Awesome.”

“Oh yeah?” There went her shirt. And her bra. They were both giggling like idiots. She ’ported off his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his boots and socks, which he must have gotten rid of on his own, because a second later they were gone. She kicked off her canvas sneakers before he could blink them. All that remained between them now was a wet pair of blue cotton panties. “Are you attached to those?” His voice was a low, raspy purr.

“Not really.” Hers was nothing more than an airy puff.

“Good.” Instead of blinking away her underwear, he reached around her back, grabbed hold with both hands and ripped.

She shifted, allowing him to pull the shreds away from her body before she shimmied back against him, rubbing her cleft against the hard ridge of his cock. She wanted him inside her desperately, but another part of her wanted to draw things out, to savor the moment. She slid her hands through his long, silky hair and leaned forward to nip the point of his ear.

“Goddess!”

“Mmm. Pointy and sensitive. I love your ears, Ric.”

She sucked the tip between her lips and tickled it with her tongue.

“And they love what you’re doing to them. But now it’s my turn.” He laid her back, supporting her with his hands as he lowered his mouth to her breasts. He dropped a kiss on one, briefly brushing it with his tongue before he switched to the other, settling there for a longer, wetter kiss. She groaned out loud when he sucked the pebbled peak into the heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, luxurious circles.

She gripped his arms for support as she leaned backward, her spine arching upward while he continued to suckle. The heavy fragrance of the rose garden tickled her nose and mixed with the scent of Ric’s sweat and her own musk.

“Beautiful!” he crooned when he finally kissed his way across her chest to her other nipple. He treated it to the same thorough attention as its mate and he tugged gently with his teeth, making her breath catch in her throat.

“I wanted this to last.” His strong hands pulled her upward, pressing her close against his chest. “But I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Then don’t.” Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she rose up higher on her knees, giving him room to position himself at her entrance. Then she tipped her face to his and kissed him. Their lips clung tenderly while she slowly, slowly sank down onto his strong, thick shaft, savoring every second as he filled her bit by bit.

One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other gently cupped her ass. For a long time they stayed still, only their lips moving in a slow, seductive dance. Eventually, though, the need became too overpowering to resist and Meagan pushed herself up with her knees. Their bodies slid against each other easily, she was that wet, as she rose to the point where only the head of his penis remained inside her. Then she wiggled her hips as she inched back down.

Ric’s tongue pushed into her mouth at the same time and she sucked on it instinctively, wanting all of him, any way she could get him. His fingers tightened, the tug on her hair almost painful. He was probably going to leave bruises on her butt, but she couldn’t care less. Every moment of making love to Ric was worth whatever the price.

It was Ric who finally speeded up the pace. Without dislodging his penis from her sheath, he shifted one leg so that he straddled the bench and laid Meagan back onto the fluffy cushion. With infinite tenderness, he lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders, kissing the side of each calf as he went. Then he took her hips in his hands and thrust hard.

“Oh!” The new angle took him even deeper than before and Meagan clutched the cushion with her hands to avoid being shoved up along the bench by the force of his thrust. She tightened her calves around his shoulders and pushed back, meeting him with each stroke. Once they had the rhythm, he released one hip and his fingers came up to find her clit, rubbing gently on the sensitized nerve bundle. Her building orgasm coiled almost painfully in her belly, tightening like a fist. “Ric!”

“I love you, Meagan!”

She couldn’t have heard him right, but it didn’t matter.

His guttural words were enough to push her over the edge, and she called his name again as lightning burst behind her eyelids and shot sparks along her skin. The explosion of sensation seemed to go on forever. She barely registered Ric’s own groan or the hot, wet spurt of his seed into her womb.

Afterward, he slumped over her, easing her legs down across his thighs. Still lodged inside her, he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose and finally her mouth.

“Yum.” She smiled up at him mistily. “I could become really fond of this rose garden.”

“I already am.” His soft chuckle was as warm as his touch. Then he straightened his arms, levering his chest away from hers. He bit his lower lip, a rare look of vulnerability flitting across his handsome features. “I meant it, you know.”

Meagan lifted one hand and brushed a strand of his wheat-gold hair behind his ear. She kept her expression as neutral as she could, but her heart began to pound with hope. “Meant what?”

He sat up the rest of the way, linking the fingers of both hands through hers to pull her up with him. In the dim light, she could still see him peering into her eyes.

“I love you, Meagan Rose Kelly. And that’s something I’ve never said to a living soul. Not in more than eight hundred years.”

There was so much she wanted to say, but her throat seemed to have swollen shut and her eyes welled with tears. She licked her lips and nodded, hoping he understood.

He must have, or else he was reading her mind, because the strain in his expression dissolved as his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ve finally managed to render you speechless, have I?” Their hands were still entwined, so he leaned down to kiss away the single tear that had spilled down her cheek.

She’d never even known that the word speechless could be taken literally before. She nodded again, swallowed hard and forced out the words. “I love you, Ric.”

His broad, trembling smile was the sweetest thing she’d ever seen. Once that was said, the rest was easier.

“And I’m more afraid of that than I am of Owain and his purists. We both know there are problems here. Not the least of which is your boss.”

“I know. I’m trying to sort that out, I promise. After keeping you safe, it’s my first priority. I never thought I could feel this way, Meagan. I always thought that falling in love was for suckers. The ultimate con. And I was far too smart to get taken. And yet here I am. Head over heels in less than a week.” Something somewhere in his past had hurt him more than he either realized or wanted to admit.

“Love isn’t a scam, Ric. It’s a gift, to be treasured.”

He didn’t have any idea how to respond. All his experience with love had been to laugh at it. He didn’t know how to express his own. So he tried to laugh. “You’re a gift. That much is certain.”

“Who was it, Ric, who hurt you so badly? Who taught you that love can’t be trusted?”

Goddess, she was too damn insightful. And he absolutely could not look her in the eyes and lie, or even equivocate. “My mother.”