by Emma Hamm
She pulled at his heat, at the passions so vivid she could almost see them hovering in the air. With each breath, she bound herself to him ever more tightly. The threads of their lives were so entangled they had created a labyrinth from which they would never break free.
Lightning sizzled. She tasted electricity in the air and gasped as Manus delved between her legs. The tangled strands of his hair scraped her inner thighs, but she couldn’t focus on anything other than the sensations he created.
Thunder shook the house with a great boom. They could have all been on fire, and she wouldn’t have noticed. Electricity flowed through her veins. It buzzed through her mind until all she could hear was the rush of waves crashing against the shore.
Manus trailed his lips up her body, pressing a warm kiss against her lips. “You are mine.”
“Yours,” she gasped.
He plunged into her like a man possessed. She caught the strained expression on his face in a bright flash of light. He was marking her, claiming her, forcing her to recognize that she was entirely his no matter where she was in the world.
A rumble of thunder trailed up her spine, and she cried out as lightning struck the balcony outside. The room flared bright. Her wicked pirate arched back, driving himself so deep inside Saoirse couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.
They cried out together, melding as only two people in love could do. Together they quaked and shuddered, battled the raging sky and shouted their release. They were creatures of passion. Even mother nature agreed tonight and mirrored the weather to the raging inferno inside their souls.
Manus branded his touch onto every inch of her body, worshiping her like a goddess and punishing her like a slave. In return, she allowed her own passions to fly free. Saoirse begged for his touch, murmured encouragement, and sighed happily when he listened.
Throughout the entire night, she wondered whether he was apologizing, convincing her to stay, or saying goodbye.
He dropped to his side and pulled her tight against him. “I want you to be happy here. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” Saoirse pressed a kiss to his slick chest. “I know you want me to be happy.”
His body fell lax as sleep overtook him, and she let him rest.
Saoirse didn’t have the heart to tell him that no matter how much he wanted her to be happy, she couldn’t be. Not fully. Not while the sea was out there, waiting for her, and she had made her life on land.
She tucked her head under his chin and pressed her palm against his steady heart. The beat lulled her to sleep, filled her dreams with a quiet drumbeat, and eased the ache in her chest.
Warm lips pressed against Saoirse’s bare shoulder. She smiled, her half-awake mind already certain who touched her with such familiarity.
“Manus,” she murmured. “Is it time to get up?”
“It’s far past that time, my pearl.”
She slowly rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. He was seated on the edge of her bed, dressed in soft breeches and a white linen shirt unbuttoned at the throat. He had pulled his dreadlocks back with a leather thong. Beads at the end clacked together as he shifted.
Saoirse stretched her arms over her head. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise?” She yawned. “Manus, I don’t like surprises.”
He pressed a finger against her lips, eyes twinkling. “Shh, my pearl. You’re going to love it. Get out of bed, your maids are waiting to dress you.”
“I can get dressed by myself.”
“But isn’t it so much more fun to have someone else do it?” He winked at her and stood, leaving the door ajar on his way out.
Saoirse covered her face with her hands, groaning at the mere thought of getting up. She was having such lovely dreams. Waves rocking over her body, fish tangled in her hair, a powerful tail propelling her through the water…
“M’lady?”
Saoirse dropped her hands. “Good morning.”
The maids bustled into the room, one to stoke the fire and the other to dress Saoirse in whatever clothing the maid picked out. It was as if Saoirse was some kind of elaborate toy. They dressed her, did her hair, powdered her face with makeup, and then set her in a corner to rot while they went on with their lives.
“The master says up, so you must get up.” The bedframe shook. “You cannot stay abed all day, m’lady. Unless you are not feeling well?”
“I feel fine.” She whispered, although she was exceedingly tired and wasn’t certain why. She’d slept well through the night.
“I think you’d look stunning in this lovely sea green. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The maid held up the dress which spilled over her arm onto the floor. It was a stunning creation, beautiful in all aspects of the word. It would make her waist look trim, keep her warm with the fur around the shoulders, and yet feminine with the stunning embroidery.
Saoirse couldn’t care less.
She sighed and sat up. “Yes, that will do.”
The maid tucked her hand underneath Saoirse’s elbow and helped her stand. Together, they walked to her small dressing table where they began the arduous journey of placing layer after layer of fabric together.
Saoirse obediently stood still. They could do whatever they wanted with her, not because they had power over her, but because they knew more than she did. Both of the maids had to work on her hair. The long length would be hours to finish if only one person were braiding it.
They had suggested cutting it once. “Just a trim,” they had said.
Saoirse’s reaction had not been a kind one. They had not brought a knife to her room again.
“How do you get your hair to look like this?” One of the maid’s asked. “It’s so dark, but it shines almost green in the sunlight. Like whale oil.”
“This is my natural hair.”
“Surely not! It’s not possible to have hair this color.”
“I can assure you, it is.”
They babbled on, chattering about things Saoirse did not care for. The maids always had something to comment on. The looks of the new gardener, the taste of dinner last night, how the butler thought he was better than everyone else.
They hadn’t said a word in the beginning, but quickly realized their mistress didn’t care if they spoke. As soon as they realized this, the floodgates opened. They rarely stopped to take a breath between sentences, now.
Saoirse liked it, in a strange way. Their words floated about her and burst in bright bubbles of sound. She didn’t care what they said. The words meant little. It was the rhythmic sound she appreciated so much. The same sound that could lull her to sleep and ease her nerves.
“My lady?”
“Yes?”
“I think we’re finished. What do you think?”
Saoirse opened her eyes and stared at the creature in the mirror. She looked anything but human. Her eyes were too slanted, her hair oddly colored, her skin milky white perfection. Still, she looked beautiful and the maids would be disappointed if she said anything else.
“You’ve outdone yourselves, ladies. I don’t deserve your talents.”
“You shouldn’t be saying that to maids, but we appreciate it.”
With a soft smile, Saoirse stood. “You deserve all the compliments I have and more.”
She ignored the uncomfortable expressions on the maids’ faces. They were strange women. Try as she might, Saoirse would never understand them.
They both dipped into curtsies. “The master said he would wait for you in the stables.”
“The stables?” Saoirse sighed. “He knows I don’t like to ride.”
“I don’t believe he was intending to ride milady. A man delivered a carriage today.”
“A carriage? Don’t those require a driver?”
They giggled behind their hands and slipped out the door in a rush. Likely because they didn’t want to answer any more of Saoirse’s strange questions.
She smoothed a hand down the bodice of her sea foam gown. It wasn’t practical for whatever Manus had planned, but it was something like armor. She was presentable at the very least. As long as she didn’t speak, she would remain a paragon of womanly duties.
Now was not the time to dwell on her newly found life. Saoirse straightened her spine, swept down the halls of her home, and out towards the stables. She didn’t like horses. They were strange beasts who always watched her and pawed at the ground when she came too close.
They didn’t want her anywhere near them either. She was more suited to a kelpie mount who would crash through the waves with a fearsome shriek. Not these imitations of faerie beasts.
“Are you ready, my pearl?” Manus called out. “There are many surprises today!”
He stood next to a glistening black carriage. The wheels were taller than her, and gold curtains covered the windows, barring the interior from her sight. It might have been impressive for a human, but it looked like everything else to Saoirse. Frightening, foreign, and yet another strange thing to endure.
But he wanted her to be pleased. His smiles were rare, and he was grinning from ear to ear today. She wouldn’t ruin that.
Saoirse plastered a smile on her face. “What have you acquired, husband? Will this turn into a beetle at sunset or is this truly a carriage made by human hands?”
“Entirely human made. Did you think we were incapable of it?” He pulled black gloves onto his hands with an audible snap. “Are you ready?”
She nodded and marveled at the oddities of her husband. He was a wild beast packed into a suit and tie. His dreads were tied back with a loose leather thong, the heathen hair something he refused to get rid of. Tan breeches hugged his legs so tightly she was certain women would faint when they saw him. A black waistcoat covered the white linen shirt, but she knew it was still unbuttoned.
They were a strange pair. Both wild and tame at the same time.
A crow croaked above them, its eyes staring down with clear intent. Manus mock shivered and gestured for her to come closer.
“The Morrighan watches us my darling, perhaps you should come here. For safety.”
“Well, she is a faerie. She knows a good story when she sees one.”
“A faerie like you or a Fae beast?”
“We’re all faeries,” she replied. Giggles escaped through her lips in effervescent sounds of joy. “There’s no such thing as a Fae beast.”
“There’s not? Then what are the creatures?”
“Some of us are better at shape shifting than others.”
She enjoyed his shocked expression far more than she should have. Saoirse held out her hand for him to take.
“Are we leaving, Manus?”
His jaw snapped shut. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Did what?”
Lightning fast, his arms lashed out and wrapped around her waist. Saoirse pressed her palms against his chest with a gasp.
“You are a wicked creature, I should have listened to the priest.” He nibbled at her ear as he growled out the words.
“I believe the priest claimed I should run from you.”
“Oh, that’s not how I heard it, my pearl. You were always the vixen luring me away with her song and her pretty smile.”
“I’ve never sung to you!”
“You never had to,” he murmured against her throat. “Your body sings a song only I can hear.”
How could she ever tell him how much that meant to her? That he expressed his love in a thousand and one different ways? She could read him easier than any other human alive.
Saoirse pulled back and ran her finger down the bridge of his nose. “Then I shall hope it continues the song for many lifetimes to come.”
He kissed the tip of her finger. “Shall we?”
She thought he would help her into the carriage as she had seen many wealthy women do. They would arrange their skirts just so, nod to their footman, and the door would seal them inside the strange compartment. Saoirse dreaded the mere thought of being entombed.
Perhaps he knew her better than she thought. Manus helped her to the front where the coachman would sit. The board was slightly uncomfortable but cushioned by the thick weight of her skirts.
“Manus? Is this appropriate?”
He sat next to her, the entire carriage rocking with his weight. “Probably not. But this is our day together, and I know you care little for propriety.”
“I like this gift already.”
Manus reached beneath the seat and drew out a long whip. “Besides, the horses would miss you if I tucked you away.”
The nearest horse flicked its tail, glancing back at them with a dubious expression.
“I doubt that,” Saoirse said with a laugh. “But I would much rather be here where I can feel the wind in my hair.”
He cracked the whip, and they left the haven of their small cliff side home. Saoirse craned her neck to watch the estate disappear behind a line of trees. It was a beautiful home. Though it was a shame bad memories haunted its halls, she hoped someday they might fill it with happy memories of their own.
Rolling green hills filled her vision with emerald. Wind tickled the long blades of grass, sending fields flickering to life like the green fronds beneath the ocean. She was most comfortable here. Strands of her hair broke free from her tight crown braid, tickling her cheeks.
Knee high stone walls bracketed off sections of land. Each square marked where one farmer’s land began, and another’s ended. Dots of sheep scattered across the emerald hills.
She liked sheep. They were a strange beast, with odd eyes and fuzzy bodies, but they were kind. She could feel their love and devotion even though they kept their distance.
A few horses wandered although they were usually kept in pens, so their owners could find them. Saoirse smiled and waved at a farmer who paused in his work, leaning on a hoe and watching them pass by with a curious expression. He’d probably never seen anyone so rich riding atop a carriage.
He waved back at her hesitantly and returned her bright grin. There was much good she could do here, with all those who needed help. So few wanted to get their hands dirty.
“Manus?”
“Yes, my pearl?”
“Could we perhaps give back to the community?” She pointed towards the farmer’s home. “Some roofs look a little worn. We could donate whatever we could to get them ready for winter.”
“I like that idea.” Manus reached out and grabbed her hand. He pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers. “You’d give up some of our fortune to help others?”
“It’s not our fortune anyways. It’s a bean sídhe’s who didn’t mind sharing her wealth with a fellow faerie.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him faerie coin was usually cursed. Using the money at all made her uncomfortable, even though she knew it came from humans first. Had it been with the faerie long enough to become cursed?
The carriage rocked to the side, wheels caught in a deep rut. The horses snorted and pulled hard, tossing Saoirse against Manus who held her snug against him.
They rolled into town and she thought they might stop. It was market day. Crowds of people teemed around stalls overflowing with flowers, fabric, food, and more. She loved the colors of market day even though some people were a little pushy.
A few ladies made eyes at Manus, some even waggling their fingers for his attention. Saoirse ignored them as best she could and let out a relieved sigh when they passed through the town onto a small dirt road that led towards the sea.
“Will you tell me what we’re doing now?” she asked.
“We’re almost there, my pearl. Have a little patience.”
She didn’t want to have patience. There was no possibility he was taking her for a swim; Manus wouldn’t risk her safety to give her what she desperately wanted. But she didn’t know what else he might surprise her with.
They travelled over the rise and down towards the whi
te sandy beach. Far at the bottom, a tiny cottage nestled in the yellow seagrass. Smoke curled from the red brick chimney. It was a quaint little cottage, one that radiated the warmth and comfort of home.
Manus drove the carriage up to the front, hopped from his seat, and tied the horses to the neat little fence surrounding the home. Ivy grew up the stone walls, unfurling bright green leaves nearly as large as her hands. Whoever lived here clearly cared for the grounds.
The front door opened, and a man stepped through, wiping his hands on a white cloth. Even with his back turned as he closed the door, Saoirse recognized him.
Eyes wide, she met Manus’s pleased gaze.
He grinned. “It’s haunted me for a while, my pearl. Now, you shall see everything he has created, and we will commission a piece for our home.”
The artisan turned on his heel and froze. “My lord, you’re early.”
“We made better time than I expected.” Manus helped Saoirse down from the carriage and set her down in a flourish of skirts and furs. “Might I present my wife? I believe you have met before.”
Saoirse met his gaze with awe. “I had never thought to see you again, artisan. Your talents have remained in my thoughts.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat and blushed. “You both look a fair bit different from I remember.”
“I imagine we do. I apologize if we deceived you in any way.”
“I always thought you were a royal, even with that ragged gown and dirt smudged on your cheek.” He tucked the cloth into his breast pocket. “Welcome to my home.”
She stepped forward, Manus close on her heels. The gate gave away beneath her hand without even the slightest of squeaks.
The artisan opened the door again, cheeks still red. “I was heading out to check the sands, but I’ll find them later. There was quite a storm a few nights ago. Did it reach you up in the big house?”
“Yes, it did,” she murmured as she crossed the threshold into his home. “Do you think there will be more glass?”