Maewyn's Prophecy: Pilgrim Heart

by Emily Veinglory

  Praise for the writing of Emily Veinglory

  Eclipse of the Heart

  I love any werewolf or vampire story and I can truly say that Emily Veinglory did a wonderful job explaining a true relationship no matter what sex, color, or gender the partners are.

  -- Nicole, Enchanted in Romance

  The romance is sweet and special and you can feel the strong, loving feelings the two characters have for one another. Eclipse of the Heart is well written and one I highly recommend to others.

  -- Lisa Lambrecht, In the Library Reviews

  Once I started reading I could not put the book down. Eclipse of the Heart is a great story that will remain on my keeper shelf for some time to come.

  -- Susan White, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  Veinglory scores with this richly written, erotic e-book chronicling Lan’s journey to learn who he is and the heartbreaking costs you must sometimes pay to get there. Lan learns that sometimes the unexpected friends you make can be the family you’ve never had.

  -- Michelle, Fallen Angel Reviews

  As a heterosexual, I found this book informative as it gave an intriguing insight of love between two men. I loved how the chemistry flowed between Mason and Lan. This is clearly a romantic tale of love, sexuality and the ability to trust.

  -- Suz, Coffee Time Romance

  Eclipse of the Heart is now available from Loose Id.

  MAEWYN’S PROPHECY:

  PILGRIM HEART

  Emily Veinglory

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book is rated:

  For substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (homoerotic sex).

  Maewyn’s Prophecy: Pilgrim Heart

  Emily Veinglory

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © November 2005 by Emily Veinglory

  Excerpt of Dealing Straight copyright August 2005 by Emily Veinglory

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 1-59632-156-3

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Raven McKnight

  Cover Artist: Jet Mykles

  www.loose-id.com

  Chapter One

  “You cannot belong to Christ unless you crucify all self-indulgent passions and desires.”

  The teaching of Paul the Apostle to the Galatians, as phrased in the Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on the Pastoral Care Of Homosexual Persons

  Peter approached Scott House with mixed feelings. The moment he saw the stone mansion set into an acre of wooded land, he disliked it. It was an immediate and irrational antipathy that had more to do with his fears about the future than any feature of the architecture. He looked to Veleur, firm in the knowledge that the sight of his lover would give him strength. Back on his home ground, Veleur released his glamour -- the elven spell that made him seem human. He sighed and sat back in the driver’s seat of his old Bentley. The late afternoon painted Veleur’s long silver hair an almost ordinary shade of blond, but there was no disguising his uncanny features: a long, narrow nose, alabaster skin, and enormous eyes with slightly slitted pupils.

  Peter and Veleur walked together from the car and up the deeply gravelled drive. The elf led the way up a grand sweep of stone steps and unlocked the door with his own key. He stepped into the foyer with native assurance; he certainly seemed to belong here amidst the gleaming panels of dark, varnished wood. Light reflected from more distant parts of the house, narrow windows above the stairs and a broad arched doorway that led to a lower level of the ground floor. This was the house where Veleur lived with other elves, with other humans who loved them. It exuded a rather smug old-world elegance that was a long stretch from the council-house grime Peter had grown up with.

  He had only known Veleur a few weeks now -- a great deal of that time spent in bed rather than in conversation. As a result, he loved the elf on a deep and visceral level, but knew almost nothing about him. Veleur, for his part, seemed to skirt the edges of closer acquaintance. Unspoken doubts multiplied in Peter’s mind, yet when he looked at Veleur with his great silver eyes and uncanny beauty -- with his passion that he reserved for Peter alone -- he was willing to drown his nascent fears and venture on. By contrast, Peter knew himself to be a fairly ordinary Irishman: tall, broad, brown-haired and -eyed, and extraordinarily bland. The sort of man you expect to see pushing a broom or hoe and hardly look at twice.

  Veleur turned and smiled over his shoulder. Any expression was beguiling on the elf’s handsome face, but a smile most of all -- perhaps because it was all too rare. Peter tried to return the gesture, but it felt false upon his lips. He was definitely anxious about coming to Scott House, more so because Veleur wanted to make it their home. Much as Peter tried to see himself as part of all this, he felt entirely too commonplace to be an elf’s lover, to be a magic-worker in his own right. Although he had learned to see magical energy, for weeks he had seen it everywhere in the world except within himself. Only when they made love did the idea that he was some kind of wizard seem remotely possible -- then, he felt filled with fire. But that potential opened the doors to other fears, even to damnation.

  Peter steeled himself to go on. He had agreed to this. He had decided to continue down this path -- in love with an elf, exploring the potential for magic within his soul. There was no point turning back now. Veleur led the way through the archway and down two steps into a large room with a high ceiling and shelves fronted with smoked glass upon three of the walls. Late afternoon sun streamed in through a row of tall, narrow windows and splayed over a miscellany of furniture including casual sofas at the far end and several mismatched desks and drafting tables closer by. A tall man stood up abruptly from where he had been lolling on one of the sofas.

  “Vel, who ...” His voice trailed off, and a silvery shimmer flashed across his eyes. “Vel, you old dog, so that’s where you’ve been. You found your partner at last.”

  “You didn’t tell them?” Peter whispered. He was horrified that he would be catching Veleur’s old friends entirely by surprise.

  The man strode forward. “Old Vel always does things his own way,” he said with a laugh.

  He planted one hand on Veleur’s shoulder and then stepped forward and embraced Peter. Peter stood awkwardly, not really sure how to return the gesture. Finally he was released.

  “I am Giffen,” the man said, shaking Peter’s hand for good measure.

  Giffen looked about fifty years old, with a slightly hard punk look from his close-cropped hair to his mismatched outfit of blazer, T-s
hirt, jeans, and Doc Martens. He was one of those very tall, but thin and gangly men who often look awkward when they move. This was not exactly what Peter had expected a wizard to look like.

  “Wolf, Bear!” Giffen called. Doors at the far end of the room swung open and admitted a compact, graceful elven woman with shaggy grey hair, and in her wake a large and rather overweight human man with a red beard and a lumbering gait. It was fairly easy to assume how they’d acquired their nicknames.

  Like Giffen, they understood what had happened as soon as they saw Veleur and Peter together.

  “Veleur, I am so pleased for you!” Bear was a big man with a big voice; he wrapped one arm around Veleur and reached out to shake Peter’s hand. Wolf stood by his side, beaming.

  “Let the poor man come in and take the weight off,” she said, flashing disconcertingly pointed teeth. “Then we can interrogate them properly.” She smiled broadly to make it clear that she was joking, but the effect was just a little too savage to be reassuring. “Roman and Archer are off out tonight. They’ll be gutted to be the last to know, and you’ll have to tell the story all over again.”

  “Speaking of which, let’s hear it now,” Bear said. “We’ve a few bottles of wine ... or we have lager, if you prefer.”

  “Oh, um, whatever ... is fine with me.” Peter felt ill at ease. He edged behind Veleur and folded his arms as he plastered a false smile upon his face. Veleur’s slim form gave Peter’s broad-shouldered frame very little cover.

  “Come along there, laddy,” Bear said, stepping forward and laying a guiding hand on the small of his back. Peter couldn’t help but notice how easily these people touched each other; he was far from comfortable with it.

  Peter settled on one of a pair of sofas that addressed each other across a broad, rough-hewn coffee table. Veleur sat to his left, unselfconsciously laying one slender hand over Peter’s thigh. Bear bustled into the kitchen as Wolf sat opposite them, and Giffen dropped into an armchair just to the side, hooking one long leg over the arm.

  “So spill, Veleur. How did you find him?” Wolf asked.

  “I am terrible at telling stories, Wolfy, my dear. Perhaps Peter will do the honours.”

  Wolf fixed her golden eyes on Peter. The silence ticked for a few seconds as marked by the dulcet heartbeat of a grandfather clock. Bear came back into the room with a bottle under each arm and a cluster of glasses in each hand. Peter had assumed Veleur would have telephoned them before now and told them the basics already. Of course he would have done it when Peter was out of the room; that only fitted with his natural reserve. He didn’t even know how to begin.

  “Don’t stare at the lad so, darling,” Bear chided.

  “He’s hardly a child,” she replied. “Probably a bit older than you were.”

  Peter wasn’t quite sure what to make of that as Bear seemed, if anything, a little younger than his own thirty-seven years. There was a lot he didn’t know about his new life, but this didn’t seem to be the time to ask. Bear ignored Wolfy as he set down the glasses and started to pour.

  “So do tell us how you first met our Veleur,” he said without looking Peter’s way. Rather more of a sensitive soul than his partner, it seemed.

  “Um, he was in a box.”

  “A box!” Wolf exclaimed.

  “Um, well, the League ...”

  All motion in the room stopped as all eyes fixed upon him. Peter felt tension like a constricting band fastening across his chest. These people might be amiable enough, but something about the fixity of their gaze assured him they could be dangerous, too, if crossed. He struggled to continue.

  “The League were testing the ward, the Irish ward, to see if it still stopped elves from entering the country. They got Veleur; he’s never exactly admitted how that came about ...”

  Peter looked over to Veleur; he alone seemed quite relaxed as he leaned back into the cushions.

  “How did we not know you were in danger?” Giffen said with a scowl.

  “Their alchemy has improved somewhat,” Veleur said with a shrug. “It is beside the point, at least for now.”

  Wolf shook her head, but forbore to argue. “So how did you escape?”

  Veleur nodded at Peter to continue. “I ...” Given their reaction, he dreaded what he had to say next. “I was left to guard the box, the box that Veleur was in. But I opened it and released him.” The hearty welcome was chilling fast, but the obvious still needed to be said, to be brought out in the open fully. “I was with the League, not the inner circle, quite -- although it seems that was to come soon, or would have.”

  The grandfather clock swung its pendulum a few more times. Giffen turned himself around to face them all, leaned forward, and picked up a wineglass from the cluster that stood ready upon the table.

  “Trust you, Veleur, you old bastard -- stealing your life partner right out from under our enemies’ noses. But let us toast to Peter, who gives us two great gifts: our Veleur back to us, and his heart whole.”

  Bear raised his glass, and there was a palpable hesitation, but the others joined them. No doubt they found it hard to assume that someone could step from the League into their circle, from enemy to friend in stride.

  “Peter was a charity worker, in the administration of orphanages and hospices,” Veleur said quietly. “He did not know about Maewyn’s ward, about the fey, or about any kind of magic.”

  “And have you been educating him?” Wolf asked archly.

  The lilt in her voice made a blush creep into Peter’s face. Bear laughed, and the mood lightened somewhat.

  “Partners normally meet rather younger,” Wolf said. “You will have a little catching up to do, but I dare say it will be worth it.”

  Peter put his hand over Veleur’s. God, but he hoped that was true. His life had taken on an aspect like a roller coaster of late; he prayed for a little stability for a change.

  Veleur was in many ways his heart’s desire, yet he still felt just a little distance. No matter how long they lay together, the elf’s inner self was tantalizingly out of reach.

  “We had best get Peter settled. Do you have bags?” Bear asked.

  “Not really. A rucksack with a few things. I had to get out pretty quickly after letting Veleur loose.”

  “Well, never mind. We can do some shopping tomorrow. Veleur had access to our discretionary accounts, but he can be thoughtless.” Bear gave Veleur a chiding look as he gestured for Peter to stand. “Bring your wine. I’ll show you Veleur’s suite while he gets anything you need from the car.”

  Oddly, Veleur seemed content to follow that implicit order, and he loped off towards the front door. Peter kept a grip on himself, but he was less than happy being left alone in the company of near strangers. However, Bear was certainly unthreatening, especially for a man of his stature. He took Peter in hand and guided him to the grand foyer and up the stairs. At the top a hallway ran, with windows on one side overlooking a wintery garden. Rooms lined up to the right, gleaming with white paint.

  “You’ll get used to us,” Bear said. He opened the second door, leading to a large room containing a canopied bed, a built-in wardrobe, and a deep window seat. The room was entirely uncluttered, in shades of pale wood against white and ivory textiles. There were two doors facing each other on the side walls.

  Bear pointed to the left one. “That’s the en suite. The other is Veleur’s study. I wouldn’t go in there until he gets back.” He looked over to Peter. “Yeah,” he said. “I know. It’s more like a hotel room than where somebody lives. Veleur, you know, he doesn’t give much away ... he’s been alone a while now. That’s not easy for an elf.”

  Peter opened the bathroom door to a wet-room covered in small white tiles and decorated by nothing more than a single white towel and a black terrycloth bathrobe on a chrome hook. The whole suite had a cool, elegant feeling to it -- in many ways it fitted Veleur all too well. Peter was beginning to feel distinctly anxious. Even the one familiar note in this place, his lover, Veleur, was in man
y ways an enigma.

  “Bear, there’s a lot ...” he began to say.

  Veleur appeared behind them with only the faintest whisper of sound. Peter felt a rush of relief. For all his outward equanimity, Veleur had hurried to catch up with them. He came up beside Peter, laying one hand lightly upon his shoulder.

  Peter saw Bear’s eye glance over the gesture. “You’ve come a way,” he said. “Tomorrow we can make some time to help you decide what will happen next. Whatever you want to know, and to learn, we will all be here to support you ... both. As you must, of course, support and trust each other.”

  Peter felt Veleur and Bear locking gazes, an understanding passing between them that eluded him.

  After Bear left, Veleur started to methodically pack their few possessions away in the wardrobe. “Bear has powerful empathy,” Veleur said. “The fact that he welcomes you will make the others ... happy. Giffen also was more forthcoming than his usual habit -- Giffen has the sight and is suspicious of anything that threatens our security.”

  There was something rather dispassionate and defensive in the way that he was speaking. Peter began to feel cold inside, began to doubt the bond he thought he already had with this reserved elf. Rather than let his doubts grow, he closed the distance between them.

  He ran his hand down Veleur’s forearm. “You shouldn’t have sprung me on them like that.”

  Veleur frowned and turned into his embrace. “It is best to leave them to make their own judgments, I assure you.”

  Peter began to realise that Veleur might actually have been worried about how his friends would respond to his new ex-League-of-Maewyn lover. Veleur wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist and leaned into his chest. Veleur’s chin came to rest upon the crook of Peter’s neck and shoulder.