Phoenix Rising I (26 page)

“Well, now, I’m thinkin’ I’m right comfortable where I am.” He raised his head and looked around, his eyes going half-mast at the feel of the warm sun on his back and the hot woman under him. Glancing back down at her, Connor took a breath, holding her scent in his nostrils, searing his lungs with it.

This close to her, there was something else, some other scent that was familiar, niggling at the back of his mind. “You’re enchanting, do you know that?” he asked, his voice going husky with the need pulsing throughout his body. “I want to know more about you.”

“Well,” MacKenzie said, her voice a slow drawl, “Seeing as how you don’t know anything at all about me, anything I tell you would be more than you know now.”

He grinned. She was quick, and adorable for it.

“So?” Connor leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. Their lips mere inches apart, he heard her breath hitch, saw her pupils dilate. Smelled the cream of her arousal as it slid from her core.

“Tell me something. Anything.” He rubbed the hand under her back up and down, fingers lightly digging into tense muscles.

“I don’t like arrogant men who don’t do as they’re told.”

He gave a bark of laughter. Gods, a sense of humor, too. She’d brought more lightness to his spirit in just these few moments than he’d felt in years. He shifted his lower body, slowly pumping his hips against the V of her legs. “What else?”

Her gaze followed the movement of his mouth. The tip of her tongue slipped out and licked over her lips, leaving them shiny and inviting. Which tugged his thoughts farther down the carnal trail.

“Just ... get off of me.”

“Give me a kiss, and I will.” The heat of her body seeped into him, making him even more rigid with need. He shifted again, sliding his erection against the cleft of her body.

He would have moved off her if he sensed she was afraid, or that she really didn’t want him. But whatever her mouth said was belied by the sensual awareness in her eyes and the tart scent of her arousal.

A lovely pink flushed her cheeks, telling him better than words she felt his heavy cock pressed against the folds of her sex through their layers of clothing. That she wasn’t bucking to dislodge him told him she wasn’t as unwilling as she wanted him to believe. She seemed more intent on hiding what she was feeling by this show of pseudo-anger. “Are you barmy? Get off me!”

He decided to test it. “My kiss first.”

Her breathing hitched, but she lay acquiescent underneath him. As he leaned toward her, her lashes fluttered, then her eyes closed. Connor placed feathery-light kisses along her jaw, stopping at her ear to flick his tongue against the delicate skin under her lobe, and then his lips trailed back down. He sucked softly against the ultra-sensitive underside of her jaw.

MacKenzie gasped and her hands clutched his shoulders. Tilting her head to one side, she moved to give him better access. He switched direction and headed toward her mouth. As her breathing quickened, small puffs of air blew against his cheek. Forcing himself to move slowly, he cupped one side of her face and rubbed lightly over the fullness of her lips, feeling the slick lip gloss gliding over his thumb.

When her lips parted, he couldn’t control the groan that rumbled from his chest. With an open mouth, he explored her upper lip, then the bottom, with gentle pressure, teasing and licking until her hands slid up his neck to cradle the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“I thought you wanted a kiss,” she murmured. “Or were you just teasing me?” Her tongue slid over his lower lip, and then she pulled it into her mouth and gently sucked on it.

Connor tightened his hold, pulling her closer, yearning for--
needing
--more. His jeans were unwelcome pressure against his stiff rod. “Oh, aye,” he muttered against her lips, “I’ll be wanting that kiss right now.” Tilting her head, he took her mouth with rough demand, no longer able to maintain his tenderness in the brutal grip of lust.

Gods, she tasted better than anything in his memory. Sweet like honey, with a hint of strawberries. From the remaining slickness of her lips, he realized she wore flavored lip gloss. He licked across her lips, and then dove back into her mouth.

Her tongue twisted around his, surging into his mouth when he retreated, stroking over the ridges of his palate and teeth, only to pick up the duel again. He forged inside her mouth and she suckled his tongue, drawing him deeper, making him groan.

What this woman did to him ... well, he didn’t want to look at it too closely. It felt suspiciously like more than just lust, although he felt plenty of that. But something, some sense of which he’d never before been aware, told him he needed her as much as he wanted her.

MacKenzie’s scent made him crazy with need, and her touch--soft and hungry and searching--made him hungrier than he’d ever been. The sun hot against his back, awarm, willing woman under him … he’d arrived at Tir Na n’Óg on the breath of a kiss.

By all the ancestors, he wanted her.

Working his way down her throat, he stopped at the pulse pounding under her soft skin, resting his lips there for a moment before touching the tip of his tongue to the spot. Life thrummed beneath his tongue, awakening a different sort of Hunger.

With a soft growl, he slid his hand down until it cupped the soft swell of one breast. His mouth trailed along the neckline of her top, his tongue sipping from her flesh.

She sighed, then gasped and stiffened against him. “Get off me!”

Confused at her sudden change of heart, he drew back to look at her face, becoming aware again of sounds all around them: the whirring of insects, the chirping of birds, and the soft crunch of grass under someone’s feet. She’d heard the footsteps before he had.
Interesting
. “That’s quite a sense of hearing you’ve got there, lass.”

She pursed her lips, but only said, “Get. Off. Now.”

He stood and lifted her to her feet in one fluid motion. She moved several paces away from him, swiping her palms over her ass to brush off any grass and debris. “Don’t think that kiss opened any doors for you, boyo,” she muttered, her lilting brogue becoming more pronounced in her agitation. Her brown eyes threw sparks at him. “And don’t think I’ll easily forget how I ended up on me arse to begin with.”

“Now, MacKenzie, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he defended, trying not to grin. He was sure she wouldn’t appreciate it. “You just happened to pull when I let loose of you. Then you wouldn’t let me help you up.”

She shook her head. “I have a feeling nothing’s ever your fault.” She muttered something under her breath that, even with his superb hearing, he didn’t catch. But it sounded like ‘Your Majesty.’

“Would you repeat that last bit, lass?” Connor narrowed his eyes, a suspicion forming. Coupled with the realization of what her scent reminded him of, he thought back to his conversation with his mother. She’d said MacKenzie wasn’t Fae, but there was something ...

“Never mind.”

“Well, then, answer this for me.” He thought perhaps he might shock her into giving him an answer, so he decided to come right out and ask. “Are you Fae?”

MacKenzie’s eyes widened slightly and her pretty lips bowed into an ‘O’, but she quickly enough said, “Don’t be daft.” She looked over his shoulder and a smile blossomed on her face. “Liam! Is everything all right?”

Connor turned, frowning to see two well-dressed men walking up the side of the hill toward them.

The taller of the two embraced MacKenzie and kept one arm around her shoulder. “Aye,” he said, his gaze on Connor. “We thought we’d walk you back to the main house and discuss some business.” Holding out his right hand, the man said, “Liam Sullivan.” Nodding at his companion, he said, “Angus Murphy.”

Connor shook the proffered hands but, before he could introduce himself, MacKenzie looped her arm through Liam’s, saying in a falsely gay voice, “Oh, this is Connor, one of the tourists.”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed and sending the message that he’d better go along with whatever she was about to say. Once again that look flitted over her face, the one that suggested that not only was she aware he wasn’t just any tourist, she also knew exactly who he was. “He was just about to leave, weren’t you, Connor? It was nice chatting with you. I hope you have a good visit here.”

She turned and took off at a fast pace, forcing her longer-legged companions to keep up with her at a near trot. Connor watched her walk away, his gaze focused on the twitch of her ass, unable to shake the feeling she knew him.

One thing he knew for certain. Bridget O’Neill could wait. He wasn’t leaving. Not any time soon.

Chapter Three

“Holy Mother of God, Mackey, would you slow down? Or are we in training for a marathon I wasn’t aware of?”

Liam’s voice barely registered. All MacKenzie could hear was the son of the High King asking if she was Fae. Of course she’d recognized him immediately. She’d been at the king’s court a long time, and Connor had always been one of her favorite royals--sneaking her doggie biscuits and other treats from time to time.

Not that Connor knew that. At least, she didn’t think he did. She’d be mortified if he were to realize what she used to be. After all, he was the son of the High King.

And, of course, his multi-hued eyes were a complete giveaway. As a dog, she’d not been able to see in color, but she’d heard them muttering about it when Connor wasn’t there. How unnatural it was, those different colored irises. As if he’d any control over that.

Dear Heaven above
. She’d worked so hard to conceal who she really was, buying this property nearly a hundred years ago and passing it down to her “descendants,” dying her hair brown and wearing colored contacts to conceal the natural color of her eyes. The one concession she’d made to her true identity was in taking back her real name, one she hadn’t used in more than a hundred and fifty years. Now this … this
prince
comes along and does his best to ruin
everything
.

Never mind that he took her breath away with his dark good looks and earthy sensuality. Never mind that the initial thought that flitted through her mind when she’d first seen him had been one of carnal passion, an image of legs twisting on silken sheets, of possessing and being possessed.

Never mind that she wanted him with a depth of desire she’d never felt before.

She fought back a shiver as the lust flared within her once again. His large body had felt so good--so right--lying on top of her, his heavy erection nestled between her legs, snug against her cleft. She’d wanted him immediately.

Holy Hannah. If Liam and Angus hadn’t come up the hill, she’d have let the Fae prince have her, right out in the open where anyone could have seen them. Her face heated with embarrassment at her own loss of control and the slow curl of wicked delight at almost getting caught.

“Did I hear that man ask if you were Fae?” Angus sounded out of breath, a slight wheeze betraying his asthmatic condition.

Oh. My. God.
As her attorney, it was better that Liam knew who she was, but he was the only one and she wanted to keep it that way. There was no need for her estate manager to know as well.

“No!” she responded to Angus. She picked up the pace, pumping her bent arms at her side. “He asked if … if I was
gay
.” She reached the gravel of a walkway to the big manor house, her fast walk kicking gravel behind her.

“Why … would … he … ask ...”

Hearing poor Angus wheezing behind her like an old, winded racehorse, she slowed and finally stopped, breathing rather heavily herself. “I’m sorry, Angus,” she said, putting one hand on the older man’s shoulder as he bent at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees and gulping for air.

He waved her off with a smile that was more of a grimace. “It’s all right, lass.”

His lungs rattled with his indrawn breath. “The lad sure … put a bee … in your bonnet, though … didn’t he?”

“Why don’t you go on to the office and suck on your inhaler for a bit?” Liam stepped forward and put one hand under Angus’s elbow. “You sound like a bloody blacksmith’s bellows.”

The other man straightened, a frown creasing his brow, a sheen of sweat shining through his thinning hair. “But we’ve business to discuss--”

“Which we’ll talk about in a few minutes. Go on. Mackey and I’ll be right behind you.”

Angus looked from Liam to MacKenzie, and back to Liam again. “Fine,” he finally muttered, and marched away, wounded dignity dogging every step. “I can see when I’m not wanted.” With another last grumble, he went through the back door of the manor house.

“He’s such a pansy sometimes.” Liam said it just loud enough for the other man to hear.

Angus made a rude gesture behind his back.

Liam grinned and waited until the door closed behind the estate manager before he turned to Mackey and said, “All right, then. Tell me why we all but set a land speed record and very nearly put poor Angus into an asthmatic attack getting away from the man at the faery ring.”

MacKenzie sighed and raked her hand through her hair. “He ...” she heaved a sigh and crossed her arms. “He’s King Finnbheara and Queen Una’s son.”

“He’s the son of the High King? The one who banished you?” Disbelief colored the deep tones of Liam’s voice. “Does he know who you are?”

She considered that for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, he can’t, right? If he did, he wouldn’t need to ask if I’m Fae. He’d know I’m not. Not really.”

“No, you’re not Fae. You’re a former Irish wolfhound who used to live with the Fae.” Liam shook his head, one brown eyebrow raised. “Aye, I’m sure the Prince of the Fae would’ve made that distinction. Well, at any rate, I say you should’ve kicked him in the balls, lass. Payback for what was done to you.”

She’d like to do something with his balls, but kicking them wasn’t what she had in mind. “It’s not like it was Connor’s fault, Liam.”

“Your point being … ?” He shook his head and made a
chuffing
noise. “Seeing how the king exiled you, out of spite forbade you to have any contact whatsoever with any of the Fae, and then his son seeks you out ... well, I think a rousing kick in the bollocks may just be in order.”