Aislyn

by Aislyn (NCP) (lit)

  Seamus groaned, and she thought he cursed. "Lady, you don’t play fair."

  At his abrupt touch, the terrace doors slammed shut, screening the interior of their bedroom from prying eyes. Seamus prowled across the woolen carpet toward her. A sudden attack of nerves propelled her backward and seconds later, Aislyn found her legs pressed hard against the bed. Off balance, she toppled down onto the silky covers. Seamus dropped to the bed seconds later, blanketing her body with tempered strength. His arms held most of his weight off her, but she was aware of the solid mass of him. Every one of her senses leapt in welcome. Although, she wasn’t sure of the next step, Aislyn had no fear. Instead, impatience simmered through her sensitized body.

  Large but gentle hands tangled in her hair, holding her face still for his kiss. Gray eyes glittered as his face drew near, and his warm breath puffed across her cheek. Mesmerized by the sight, her stomach churned, her heartbeat rocketed.

  Then his lips touched hers in a powerful, no-nonsense kiss that made her moan and writhe against him. Demanding more, craving more of his touch. She felt him, hard and insistent against her body. A gasp escaped as he nibbled at her mouth. With a hushed murmur, he slid to her side, his hands smoothing down her neck and coming to rest on her aching breasts. He rolled his fingers across her nipples.

  The sensations his touch created were incredible, indescribable. Ribbons of pure energy danced through her body, making her tingle from head to toe. She craved more of the sweet torment. The dress was in the way, she thought hazily. So was his jacket, his shirt.

  Her hands moved to his shirt, her fingers fumbled with the buttons making a simple job tediously difficult. "Please, Seamus. Let me touch you," she pleaded. "Help me."

  For an instant, he hesitated. Then he sat up on the bed and bent to remove his black boots. A soft thud sounded when they hit the carpet. After peeling off his socks, he removed his jacket and dealt with the buttons on his cream shirt.

  Aislyn knelt behind him, running her hands over his shoulders, cherishing the heat emanating from his body. Mine, she thought full of satisfaction. Mine. She pushed the shirt aside, baring his strong shoulders to her gaze, the smooth skin of his back. With a shaky hand, she reached out to touch, part of her wondering if Seamus would call a halt, as he had before. A pulse beat strongly at the base of his neck, and Aislyn bent her head to scrape her teeth lightly across the vulnerable spot.

  Seamus sat on the edge of the bed, his heart pounding so hard he wondered if he might expire. Behind him, he savored the warmth coming off Aislyn’s body, the soft abrading sensation as she nuzzled his neck. His hands clenched at his sides, and he looked straight ahead, concentrating on their reflection in the mirror affixed to the wall. The image of the copper-haired siren bent on seduction, the glittering of lust his eyes made his breath catch.

  Aislyn nipped at his neck again and a tremor wracked his body. Hell’s teeth. They’d barely started and his body felt tightly wound, ready to fragment if he didn’t have at it. Right now. Seamus sucked in a deep breath, fighting for control. He turned without warning and grabbed at Aislyn’s arms, holding them down where they no longer tormented his weak flesh.

  "My turn," he growled, unleashing a grin at her look of astonishment.

  With ruthless efficiency, he stripped the wrinkled dress from her body, leaving her clothed in a pair of midnight blue briefs, the exact color of her dress. And that was all. Aislyn lay before him, almost naked, a tinge of color highlighting her cheeks, her blue eyes shining brightly.

  "So beautiful," he murmured, his gaze traveling down her face and coming to rest on her full breasts.

  He sensed her diffidence. Seamus chuckled, charmed at her uncharacteristic shyness. His hands skimmed downward as he bent to taste her lips. He nuzzled at her throat and felt the frantic pulse beat, the tentative movements of her body as she sought to touch him in return. Their gazes locked. Deep breaths came in unison.

  "Touch me, Seamus."

  How could he resist her plea? His hand trailed across her collarbone coming to rest below her neck. Lowering his head, he blew across one pouting nipple. She shuddered. He grinned and blew again.

  "Please," she whispered, one hand tugging insistently behind his neck.

  One hand traced the outer slope of one breast while his other hand smoothed downward, across the silky skin of her stomach and lower still. The scent of her filled his senses, the soft silken feel of her seared burning messages to his brain. Unable to deny either of them for a moment longer, his lips closed around one pink nipple. His hands massaged her breast savoring the warm, smooth skin and the familiar scent of apricots.

  Aislyn arced upward at the feel of his moist mouth on her breast. Warm and gentle, then lightly nipping, his touch made her gasp. Her whole body jerked, sensitized, eager for more, yet restless. She lay panting, her chest heaving, but twitched in surprise when one of his hands stole beneath the blue briefs she wore, dipping low and making her whole body clench.

  She felt him move and gave a cry of protest, but he murmured soothingly. He rose and rapidly dispensed his the rest of his clothes, her briefs.

  My, she thought, her eyes widening. He was the beautiful one. All sculpted muscles with no surplus fat. Just like the naked statues in Lady Wickham’s garden in Glenveagh. In fascination, Aislyn ran her hand down his body, exalting in the slight hiss of breath, the clenching of muscles. Her hand trailed lower still, her teeth closing on her bottom lip as she concentrated. Enthralled, her trembling hand touched his male hardness, tracing along his length. His sudden deep breath made her gaze dart to his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth hard, and he looked in pain. Startled, she froze.

  "Don’t stop," he whispered. "Feels good."

  She made another tentative movement with her hand, and he groaned.

  "Hell’s teeth," he muttered, opening his eyes. His pupils were huge; his eyes glowed black. "That’s enough. Come here. I want to feel you against me. No clothes. Just skin. Ah, sweetheart. Hang on. I forgot something." He levered up off the bed and strode to his bag. Seamus pulled a condom from his wash bag and thanked the instinct that had made him pack the box at the last minute. Sheathing himself, he turned back to Aislyn. She studied him with wide fascinated eyes, made him feel invincible.

  Seamus bent to trail a path of teasing kisses across her breasts, down her silken belly and across the tops of her thighs. Her scent drove him crazy. Apricots.

  She stirred restlessly, her legs falling apart. His hand drifted lower in a teasing pass across moist feminine heat. Muffled relief hissed from him when she gasped and arched upward. Seamus watched her eyes drift closed. His knowledgeable hands circled lightly. And again. She tensed. Shivered. Sighed.

  Impatient, Seamus rose over her slender body, smoothed one unruly copper-colored curl off her face, and kissed her hard. Hungrily. She was ready. Thank the Gods. He couldn’t wait a second longer. He moved between her legs and slowly, gently surged upward into her moist warmth.

  The sensation surprised her. For a moment, she wondered how things would work, but Seamus continued to kiss her, showing no concern. He surged and retreated, the friction making her arch and deepen the angle. So good. Her whole body felt stretched. Yet she ached again, the same fiery ache she had experienced when Seamus touched her. He surged deeper now and a sharp pain made her freeze.

  "It’s okay, sweetheart. I know it hurts." His mouth moved from her lips to cover one nipple. A pleasurable sensation started where his mouth suckled her breast and spread rapidly down her body. A blistering heat that made her forget the fleeting pain. Seamus moved inside her and the heat burned steadily stronger. Aislyn’s eyelids grew heavy, drifted shut. Her senses picked up every nuance: the spicy masculine scent of his body, the sound of his breathing, her racing heart, the touch of his hand, his mouth, his masculinity. Blood pounded through her body, emotions whirled. Fiery, burning hot explosions nipped at her body, radiating outward from where they were joined, from her feminine core. Impossible, pleasurable, ex
citing explosions detonated on Seamus’s next plunge into her body. Aislyn let out a soft cry, her body replete.

  Seamus folded her closer, his hips pumped rapidly then he froze, his breathing coming in deep, gasping pants.

  His arms tightened as he eased away to look down at her. "Are you all right?"

  All right? She felt fantastic. Aislyn caressed the length of his back and then smiled. "I feel ... relaxed," she said finally. Truth was, she didn’t think she could explain her inner feelings--not adequately. What she and Seamus had just done together would change her life. She knew it.

  She watched curiously as Seamus dealt with the condom. Aislyn had read about this means of human contraception, and she supposed Seamus was right to use it. They were young; there would be time later for children. She smiled at the quick vision she had of several sturdy dark-haired toddlers.

  Seamus stretched out on the bed beside Aislyn. One arm snaked out, and he drew her flush against his chest. "I didn’t hurt you?"

  "A little, but not for long. I feel great."

  His hand danced down her side, smoothed across her hip, and cupped a buttock. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

  "Why don’t you go to sleep? I’ll go and check to see if our watcher has left for the night."

  "Stay." Aislyn wanted to stay exactly the way they were, their bodies fitted together as if they were made for each other. He sighed, but tightened his hold, and Aislyn relaxed. Her eyes drifted shut, her breathing slowed.

  Seamus looked down at the beautiful female in his arms. Asleep, she appeared relaxed and peaceful. Awake, she was in constant movement, seldom still. He exhaled heavily.

  Reality hit with gut-kicking swiftness. He’d made a mistake--a hell of a mistake, and one with far reaching implications. Too bad he’d given up on brain function and let his body take over.

  When he was certain Aislyn was asleep, he slipped from the bed and rapidly dressed. Feeling like a bastard, he crept from the bedroom and headed down the flight of stairs to the living area below. Concentrate on the job, he told himself.

  Renee.

  And the fact he was Guardian of the colony, responsible for making sure it survived. Always remember that, son. His mother’s words were cold comfort.

  He cursed viciously under his breath. The rule about no magic for financial gain sucked big time. He suspected that life in the past, before rules, had been much easier. Certainly, less complicated for the Guardian.

  Aislyn sighed in her sleep, jerking his wayward body to action-alert. Hell, all he could think about was crawling back into bed with Aislyn, shaking her awake, and repeating the whole process over. Again and again. Muttering another succinct curse, he slid out the front door, locking it behind him. He took the path toward reception, deciding he’d have a drink at the bar then walk down to the far end of the resort, away from Watson’s cabin and walk back along the beach.

  Hopefully, their watcher had left, convinced they really were newlyweds intent on enjoying their honeymoon.

  Their watcher wasn’t where they had last seen him. Seamus passed the spot that overlooked their bedroom and slowed to scan the ground. Several cigarette butts were strewn on the ground. After a quick look around, Seamus stooped to finger the butts. None were warm. Maybe, he’d get lucky tonight ... Oops, damned bad choice of words.

  Hell’s teeth, he was the luckiest bloke around, betrothed to a beautiful fairy, who was on her way to visit, and the woman who owned his heart, graced his bed. A man didn’t get luckier than that.

  So why did he feel so bad?

  Up ahead, someone made a sound. A stone rolled along the gravel path. Seamus slid off the path to hide behind a large rimu tree. The long dangling leaves hung nearly to the ground like a curtain, hiding him from sight.

  The Barker’s strolled past. Seamus frowned, wondering what their part in the plan was. Were they competitors in the scavenger hunt or merely friends? He waited several minutes before venturing from hiding, but another noise up ahead made him pause. Ducking for cover, he waited yet again. The bodyguard. Impatience and plain bad temper made Seamus mutter a low curse. He couldn’t stand here and play freaking musical chairs for the rest of the night. The bar probably wasn’t his best option after all.

  Seamus turned away from the path and made his way slowly through the heavy bush, guided by the sound of the sea and the beam of the torch he’d tucked in his jacket pocket earlier. Dead leaves crackled under his feet as he moved cautiously down the hill. A Morepork called overhead, the sound mournful and lonely in the cool night air.

  He’d have to tell Aislyn about Renee, and before the betrothal became public knowledge in the colony. He should probably tell Aislyn he was Guardian too. He owed her the explanation--now more than ever.

  She must realize, or at least suspect, he knew the Guardian’s identity, but she had never questioned him. Even when he’d taken her through his private portal on the night of the ball.

  Deep in thought, he didn’t watch his footing. His foot slid between an exposed tree root and the leaf-cover. Seamus hit the ground with an almighty thump. The air whooshed from his lungs as he crashed to the ground.

  He pulled himself upright with a grunt. Pay attention. Quit thinking about Aislyn. It’s too damned late now. You’ve slept with the female. Seamus took a couple of exploratory steps. Pain jabbed at his thigh and sprinted down his leg. Man, that hurt. He staggered another couple of steps before grabbing at a karaka tree for balance.

  The sound of waves breaking on the shore was louder now. Seamus glanced down and froze. Damn it all the hell! The tide was almost in. If he walked along the beach, he was going to get wet. He gritted his teeth and looked back the way he’d come. Nope. The only way was along the beach--the slog along the top of the cliff was too dangerous in the dark.

  Grim faced, Seamus stepped onto the sliver of sand that still showed above water. A wave rushed to shore swallowing the visible sand. Water seeped into his boots and soaked his trousers to knee height. Seamus shivered at the burst of icy water. A sudden gust of wind whistled in from the sea, swirling the small gentle waves into white, foaming crests that splashed him relentlessly. The only good thing about being wet through was that he couldn’t feel the nagging ache in his leg any longer. Frozen to the bone, he trudged along the base of the steep hill toward Watson’s cabin.

  The chug-chug of an engine made him pause. A boat approached, but clandestinely, with the lights switched off. Seamus squinted through the inky darkness trying to make out which direction the boat approached from.

  Voices floated on the night air. Watson? Seamus hunkered down behind a smallish rock. He was only partially hidden, but with his dark jacket, he might escape detection. Anticipation soared through his veins, his gut telling him he’d chanced on a promising scenario.

  As the boat neared the shore, navigation lights popped on. The anchor chain rattled as it sank down into the water. Seamus peered into the night and saw a figure ghost along the side of the boat. A splash in the water told Seamus the figure had lowered a dingy. He saw two people slide over the side of the boat into the dingy and a third person hand a package down to them once the dingy was stabilized.

  He was too far away.

  Seamus slid from hiding and crept along the shore, trying to make as little noise as possible. The dingy had almost reached shore now. He needed to find out what was in that box.

  The bank dropped to knee level, and Seamus stepped from the sea, deciding to skirt the bush while trying to move closer.

  "Do you have it?"

  Seamus stilled. Watson. The Englishman spoke louder than usual, his voice boosted by excitement.

  "Yes, sir," Seamus heard one of the men reply. Damn, he needed to hear this conversation. He edged across an open space, and hoped like hell no one would notice him. A loud snap sounded as he trod on a small brittle twig. Hell’s teeth. That had torn it.

  Seamus watched a large figure leave the group to head in his direction. His hand slid inside his jacket. A gun.
Damn. Before the bodyguard reached him, Seamus stepped out into the open. Naïve openness was his only chance. He held his hands out in the open in front of him, palms facing the dark sky as he strode forward and forced a smile into his voice. "Hell, I’m sorry if I startled you. I was miles away. Didn’t even see you there until someone called out."

  Morgan, the bodyguard approached steadily. "What are you doing?"

  Seamus affected both surprise and exasperation. "As I said, I’m sorry I frightened you folks. Had a damned fight with the wife," he muttered, shaking his head and trying to look sheepish. "Would you believe it? She wants to invite the in-laws to stay as soon as we get back to Auckland. Hell, we’ve been married all of five minutes, and she wants her family. I mean, what am I? Chopped liver?"

  Morgan scrutinized him carefully, weighing his story. "Why did you come down here?" he asked finally, his dark face full of suspicion.

  "I walked to the far end of the resort and then walked back along the beach." Seamus shrugged, maintaining eye contact all the while. He gestured at his wet clothes. "The tide beat me. Actually, when I heard voices I wondered how the fishing was."

  Seamus noticed another man split from the group. As the man neared, Seamus saw it was Watson. "Hello," he said.

  "Strange time to be out," Watson commented.

  Seamus grimaced inwardly. The man was telling him? Damned straight, it was a weird time of the night to loiter on the beach. Seamus was positive they wouldn’t be able to produce a single fish if he asked.

  "Yeah. Tell me about it! Aislyn and I had a humdinger of a fight. She made me so angry I just had to get out of the cabin or burst."

  "Why are you wet?"

  Seamus glanced down at his wet trousers. "I decided to walk along the beach from the other end. I didn’t realize the tide was on its way in. Once I was half way along, I decided it was too far to walk back. It was easier to carry on walking."

  Watson frowned and exchanged a glance with Morgan. Seamus held his breath, wondering if his story sounded plausible. He glanced over at the two men who waited by the dingy, frustration simmering inside. He’d blown it today--big time.