Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance)

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Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 19

by Amber Carlton


  “I own Jamestown, Kendall. Don’t expect help from that quarter. The lasses will stay where they are for now. I have my reasons and, if you persist, I can find others. In the eyes of this colony, I am, at this point, providing the Caindale lasses a measure of protection.”

  “From their own uncle?”

  “Why, from her of course. She’s told you, hasn’t she? She’s a convicted felon, either indentured servitude or the gallows. She actually arrived on one of my ships. I’d hate to see her beautiful neck stretched in such a manner, but she still presents a danger to the girls.”

  “What a bunch of bullshit, Flynn.”

  “Do you need another reason? I can provide more. Are you aware your nieces are witches? That they can perform spells, read minds, feel things other people cannot feel?”

  “Yeah, it runs in the family,” Ryder said. “Sounds like you’re threatening us again.”

  Flynn shrugged. “Not a threat but a word of caution. I have no intention of harming the children, but that doesn’t mean harm can’t come from another source. I think I should point out the consequences of witchcraft, Kendall. Surely there are consequences for witchcraft in whatever part of the world you are from.”

  “Living proof,” Ryder mumbled.

  Flynn gave him an odd look. “I’ll send a messenger.”

  Whistling, he turned and sauntered leisurely along the riverbank. He did not look like a man who had destroyed the good feelings Ryder had inside. He looked like a man who’d had the happiest day of his life. Arleigh headed back toward the cottage, but Ryder watched Flynn until he vanished into the darkness.

  * * * *

  Ryder slammed the cottage door, and Arleigh nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “What the fuck was that about?”

  She held out a book. Ryder recognized the leather volume. He had practically worn his fingerprints into it.

  “You know this poem by Master Keats?”

  “I don’t want to talk about poetry right now,” Ryder snarled. The tone of his voice shook him, and he clenched his fist. He took a deep breath. “I want to know what Flynn was talking about.”

  “I’m trying to explain,” Arleigh said. “Please, do you know the poem?”

  “By heart.”

  “Tell me what you think it means. What images do the words conjure for you?”

  Ryder snatched the book from her and rubbed it in his hands. She spoke as though the words had magical properties and power. The blood boiled inside of him, and he wanted answers, but Arleigh seemed determined they were going to have a damned poetry reading. He tried to shake off the anger and find a civil tone. It didn’t work. His voice shook.

  “The image in my mind is something I’ve been searching for all my life. Now that I’m here, I think, I thought the words had led me to you. But after that little fiasco outside, I realize I was wrong.”

  Arleigh flinched.

  “I don’t freaking share, Arleigh. I know you had a life before I got here, and I thought I could forget, get past all of it, but I can’t. Wishing doesn’t make it real. Poetry or not.”

  Arleigh grabbed the book from his hands, shaking it in his face. “Stop being so difficult. Just answer me. What do you think the words mean?”

  “It doesn’t make a difference.” She stood and stared, holding the book in front of her like a shield. Maybe she needed a shield. He didn’t know. She drove him nuts, but she had something on her mind she wouldn’t let go. She held onto it like a pit bull. “Okay!”

  He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He didn’t even know what had upset him. He knew Flynn had never fucked her, but the idea that he knew her well enough to know how he would feel seemed almost worse. Arleigh watched him cautiously.

  “It’s about love and passion, about finding a soul mate to share your life with, about loving someone until your life loses meaning without her.”

  “Do you know the story behind these words? The legend?”

  “Keats was a poet,” Ryder said. “I don’t know what drives a poet. Maybe the bastard ran out of luck and hooked up with a woman like you.”

  Arleigh watched him with something he couldn’t quite fathom. Flynn’s visit had pushed her over the edge. She looked a little wild. He felt a little wild himself and spoiled for a fight. Fuck the consequences. With any luck, they’d kill each other before the sun came up and stop the misery they inflicted on each other.

  Accept it, Kendall, you’re bad for each other. Too much passion. Too much want. Too much anger. It’s a recipe for disaster.

  “This poem is based on the legend of the Leanan sidhe,” she said. “Do you know who the Leanan sidhe is?”

  Ryder shook his head while Arleigh paced the floor, the book clutched in her hands.

  “A faery,” Arleigh said. “A beautiful, desirable faery with the power to steal the life force of men. She loves them to death, Ryder.”

  “Not a bad way to go.”

  “It may sound pleasant to you, but believe me, when a man withers and pines away to nothing, ’tis not a pretty sight. I know because I was the Leanan sidhe.”

  “You’re trying to tell me you think you’re a faery? Come on, Arleigh, live in reality.”

  She dropped the book on the table, shrugged off her cloak, and tossed it onto the bench. She ran her hands over her body and threw her hair back. She turned to him and lifted her chin with a challenging glare.

  “You like this body?”

  “It’s sexy as hell.”

  “And you want it?”

  “Christ, Arleigh, cut the bullshit. I already told you I don’t share. It doesn’t—”

  “And the face?”

  Ryder clenched his jaw. “You’re beautiful.”

  “But I’m not as beautiful as some. The Caindale girls are far more beautiful than I. But you will ne’er see that because you’re under a spell.”

  Ryder ran his hands through his hair and didn’t stop pulling until he felt pain. “A spell. Well, that explains everything. I couldn’t possibly have any feelings of my own. I’d have to be under some kind of spell to want a woman like you. I’m glad you cleared that up.”

  Arleigh put her hands on her hips. “Did you listen to what Cameron said? Did you hear his words?”

  “Every nasty one of them. He’s a prick. I don’t care about his words. I care about what happened between the two of you. He implied—”

  “Did you have those feelings?”

  “He’s a sick, twisted son of a bitch. You’ve had a relationship, and he’s jealous you’re with me.” Ryder glanced at her. “Or he concocted a bunch of lies because he has demented fantasies about you. It’s your call. You’re the only one who knows the truth.”

  Arleigh sighed and looked toward the floor. “He did not concoct lies. There’s been more between us.”

  Ryder’s jaw dropped. “Christ, Arleigh.”

  Something snapped inside of him. He slammed his fist down on the table. The slam echoed through the room, and Arleigh jumped. The echo wound around him like a chain of anger. Adelina’s jar shook, and pink streamers shot from the edge. Arleigh gasped, and Ryder grabbed the jar before it could topple over the edge. The streamers winked furiously, and Ryder rubbed the jar to calm Adelina down. He didn’t know if it would work. He thought it might be used for genies, but hey, it’s all he had. When the pink fog swirled back into the jar, he took a deep breath, but his fists clenched at his side.

  “Why do you keep lying to me?”

  He peered at her, trying to read her mind. The anger lurking inside of him poised, ready to pounce, and he was afraid of what he might do. He could think of nothing to say that wouldn’t result in more damage between them. She could have screwed every man in the colony, and he would have forgiven her, but she seemed to lie with no compunction, and that disturbed him.

  “You toyed with him, tossed him away, and he’s righteously pissed. Now you’ve got the nerve to tell me what an evil man is, making up stories about faeries and highlanders,
or whatever the hell he is. Did you treat my brother this way? Are the Caindale brothers pawns in one of your sick fantasies?”

  He had to get out before he did something he regretted. He moved toward the cottage door and glanced over his shoulder. “When I get back, don’t be in this room.”

  She started toward him, but Ryder put his hand up to stop her. He backed away, agitated, angry. The blood roared through his head, and he couldn’t look at her anymore. Her silky hair, the swell of her breasts, the smooth curves of her hips, the full lips quivering now with some kind of feigned emotion were all part of a beautiful package designed to lure him into hell. But inside? He’d never known a woman like this. She would kill him. Her lips parted, and she took a breath.

  “Ryder, please, you don’t—”

  “I’ve had enough of the lies that fall from your mouth. I understand everything. Flynn killed Stephen to get rid of the competition, and the girls were kidnapped because you dumped his ass. It’s ludicrous! I came across almost four hundred years to fight for a girl who hooked up with the wrong guy and now won’t take her medicine. You’re on your own, kid. I’m out.”

  Tears ran down her face again, not quite so charming this time. He wanted to strangle her and thought, if she didn’t get out of his face, he might do it.

  He yanked the door open. He turned when her hand clenched around his arm. Her face was heart wrenching, but his guts had been ripped out, and he wasn’t in the mood for her. A hole opened somewhere inside of him, and every feeling he had poured through it.

  “You’re wrong,” she whispered, “about everything.”

  He shook off her arm and stepped over the threshold.

  “Get fucked,” he snarled and slammed the door.

  Chapter 18

  Ryder sat in the dark and watched her tiptoe across the floor, dressed in that piece of crap nightdress. Didn’t she have anything else to wear? He could practically see through the damned thing, and it left nothing to his imagination. He still wanted to wrap his hands around her throat, but that didn’t mean he was over her. All the harsh words between them weren’t going to quench his desire for her. The erection in his boxers proved that. Though difficult to sit still with a rock in his pants, he managed. He sipped at the drink in his hand. What the hell was she doing now?

  “Adelina?” she whispered.

  A faint pulse of light flickered in the jar. Ryder would have missed it if he hadn’t known what to look for.

  “Please wake up,” Arleigh said. “I need to talk with you.”

  A tiny body rose from the jar, and her wings fluttered wearily. Adelina grumbled, but he couldn’t hear her words.

  “I know you’re sleepy, but I need advice. What am I going to do? He won’t stay away from me, and I want him so much.”

  Ryder held his breath, trying to hear. Flynn. He should have known. Arleigh was in love with Mr. Perfect, the King of the Jamestown Faeries. Okay, Flynn was a sick mother, but Arleigh obviously fell hard for men with problems. The twisted little mind games they spun between them probably gave their quirky relationship an edge. What kind of kinky little notions did Arleigh Donovan think of while her lover toyed with her? Obviously they enjoyed making one another jealous, tempting each other with forbidden desires.

  Ryder couldn’t figure out where he fit into her scenario. Arleigh obviously enjoyed being taken to the edge, torturing herself until she could be in Flynn’s arms again. The idea that a man like Flynn had touched Arleigh ate at his gut like acid. And the idea that Arleigh had let him made Ryder want to squeeze the life from her. He needed to get those girls away from Flynn and get the fuck home.

  “It’s so hard,” Arleigh wailed. “Ryder can’t stay here. He’s so angry all the time, and I can’t hold him off any longer. ’Tis getting too dangerous. I need him to leave. I want him to leave.”

  Ryder slammed his glass down on the table. Arleigh spun around, and the naughty little nightdress slipped from her shoulder. He rose unsteadily.

  “You want me to leave my own home?” he growled.

  She tried her haughty, superior look on him. He gave her the dirtiest look in his arsenal, and she backed toward the stairs. Her voice started to shake.

  “You’ve been drinking again. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  “We’ll talk about it now,” he said quietly.

  He stalked across the room and grabbed her arm. He hauled her toward the bedroom and kicked the door open. Adelina swirled around them, casting a beautiful blush across Arleigh’s face.

  “Back in your jar, Addy, or I’ll have a talk with you, too.”

  Adelina’s tiny little mouth dropped then she flew toward her jar and safely tucked herself inside. Ryder pushed Arleigh through the door. She stumbled and fell against the bed. Ryder slammed the door and leaned against it.

  “What’s on your mind now, princess?”

  Arleigh jumped to her feet and strode toward him. She gave him a hard shove. “Get out of me way. I’ll talk when you’re sober. Have you any idea when that will be?”

  “Nag, nag, nag. You’re as bad as my sisters.”

  “You drink too much.”

  “My own business and none of yours. There’s nothing else to do around here, except lust after you. Maybe I need to get you out of my system. It might be the booze talking, but I’m beginning to think fucking you might be enough after all.”

  Arleigh’s jaw dropped when he slid his boxers over his hips and kicked them away. His arm shot out and circled Arleigh’s waist, spinning her around and slamming her against the door. She cried out, but he laughed at her pitiful attempt to push him away. If she couldn’t make up her mind about him, he would have to help her decide. There hadn’t been a woman yet who had been satisfied with one taste of Ryder Kendall. They always came back for more. Once he thawed her out, he had no doubt she would want more, too.

  Let her go, Kendall. Stephen’s swill has gone straight to your head and killed every ounce of reason and sanity you had. This isn’t what you want. Don’t ruin it.

  He chose to ignore the compliant whipping boy trapped in his head, who offered nothing but trouble. Listening to him had gotten Ryder nothing. The drunk seemed to have better ideas. His hands trailed down her body then slowly worked their way back up, scrunching the fabric of her nightdress in his fists. His eyes never left her face. Her lashes fluttered and her teeth bit down on her bottom lip.

  “I’m not falling for it again, baby. This coy act you’ve perfected works only so long.”

  Her hands coiled around his, pushing against his upward movement. But she never told him to stop.

  “I’m stronger than you are, honey. You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”

  When he scooped his hands beneath her ass, she let out a tiny shriek, but he ignored that, too. She had pretty much gotten on his last nerve and would pay for it. He lifted her up and cradled her legs around him, driving her against the door. He angled his pelvis and pushed. She gasped when his cock slid along her bare skin of her pussy. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and her head fell back on the door.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked.

  Her whisper tore through him. “Not fair.”

  “This is what you do to me. Every minute of every hour. Do you think that’s fair?”

  She wouldn’t answer him.

  “Do you know what this ache will do to a man? It takes away his reason, his common sense, his conscience. No one will see it as rape, and since you’ve driven every sane thought from my head, any guilt I have won’t matter. Maybe if I get it over with, I can be a little more reasonable and not so angry all the time. Maybe slipping into you will fix everything between us. You might even like it.”

  He shifted slightly. The heat of her pussy burned him.

  “Have I done something wrong? Missed some clues? I’m freaking out of ideas, and if you don’t tell me what you want, I’m going to take it.”

  “Just take me then! You’ll find the truth.”

>   “You don’t even know what truth is. The only truth between us seems to be between our legs, Arleigh, and I intend to find it.”

  He inched closer, sliding along between her pussy lips, barely grazing her flesh, but the heat of her lured him closer. The sight of her hair trapped between their bodies and that flash of quiet passion in her eyes made his heart pound. The smell of her made his head spin. The warmth and wetness of her body blazed a path of fire through him that incinerated the last shred of his restraint. His control was marginal. He had almost slipped inside of her without thought. Maybe he should. One thrust, one cry, could solve everything. Trying to drive her crazy could make him insane.

  “If you fuck me, Ryder, you’re going to die.”

  “I doubt you’re that good, honey. But I can probably take you a little closer to heaven.”

  She squirmed, trying to rise in his arms, to escape the hard prod of his cock. “Not like this.”

  Her voice brought him back to reality. He cursed himself for allowing his body to be in charge when so much seemed at stake, but the woman stole every bit of common sense he had and left him with insane, primitive pieces that crippled his ability to think.

  “Are you telling me to stop?” he asked quietly.

  “I’ve told you what will happen.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’ll be the death of me. You’re probably right, but I’ll take the risk.”

  “You said there should be more.”

  He tilted his head. “Are you worth more? I’m beginning to wonder. Maybe I should take you for a test drive. Make sure I’m really interested before I make a commitment.”

  He dipped his head and found the soft hollow of her throat. Her hair brushed his face, and his lips traced a trail across her neck. Arleigh released a shuddering breath before his mouth covered hers. Her fingers skimmed lightly across his jaw, and her mouth opened beneath his. He kissed her with all the skill he could muster in his drunken state then pulled his mouth away and whispered in her ear, pressing hard against her.

  “Is that enough lovemaking? Are you wet? Are you ready for me, princess?”

 

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