by Claudy Conn
“Because—it is. I give you fair warning. You will have to go through the ritual of Sally’s inquisition.”
Sally had, in fact, already arrived on the scene. She wiped her hands on the skirt of her apron and openly studied Aaron top to bottom.
He went forward, hand outstretched, his smile exuding charm in her direction, but Sally could be a hard case when she had her back up, and it was obvious to me that for some unknown reason she had her back up.
“Good morning to ye …” Aaron’s Irish lilt was lovely, but it made no dent in Sally’s armor. “I am Miss MacDaun’s neighbor—Squire of Dunbar Grange.”
I almost snorted, for that was sure to get her bristles in the wind! If he wanted to impress, putting on the Ritz for Sally would have quite the opposite results.
“Oh aye … I heard ye had settled in at Dunbar,” Sally said in a non-committal tone.
Sally’s cool reserve and the look of disapproval on her face confused me. I think I over-compensated for her stand-offishness by reaching out and touching Aaron’s arm. Hmmm, tight, hard muscle. The woman in me smiled up at him.
I had to wonder at Sally, though. I knew she doesn’t like strangers popping in without invitations, especially since my dad’s murder. Perhaps that was it? Yet, she had been the one telling me to call my friends and go out …
If matters weren’t uncomfortable enough, the door to the study creaked open, and I saw Aaron look up and raise his brows.
Sally looked around and smiled warmly. I wasn’t smiling at anyone at this point, because there stood Danté looking like a god in black Armani, and I felt my mouth drop. So not good.
He was big and absolutely breathtakingly beautiful—if you could call a man beautiful. Sexy beyond belief. I have to tell you, I don’t think too many men can pull off the ‘black silk’ look very well, but the clothes were made for this smokin’ hot prince!
I chided myself and attempted a welcome smile as I couldn’t take my gaze off him, looking up and then back down to his gold-tipped black boots. His tawny, auburn-lit hair was slicked back and braided, and that braid was looped under and tied neatly at the nape of his neck. As he took a step forward I felt my entire body respond to his.
Hormones came out of everywhere and seemed to reach for him. I batted them down as quickly as I could and said on a squeak, “Hi … Danté … come and meet our new neighbor.”
“Ah, you are the Dunbar fellow … from Ireland.” Danté had stepped forward and immediately extended his hand in a cordial greeting. He stood close, almost possessively, next to me. I looked up and saw the set of his jaw line. He wasn’t showing it, but he wasn’t pleased.
Aaron agreed that he was ‘the Dunbar fellow’, and then we all stood there a moment in an uncomfortable silence before Aaron smiled apologetically and offered, “I am sorry, Z … I didn’t realize you had a guest.”
“Oh, Danté is not a guest,” I hurriedly stuck in, flirting openly with my eyes as I spoke just to him. Don’t ask me why I did that—because I don’t know. “Danté is more like a part of the family, staying with us for now … or until my mother gets back.”
Aaron looked from Danté to me doubtfully, and I could see his mind working hard. Who could blame him? Anyone looking at Danté would wonder.
Aaron was nothing if not smooth as he asked, “Well then, perhaps I could grab you away for a couple of hours—right now, before you have a chance to think. I am sadly quite alone in this part of the country and thought you might give me a driving tour of the countryside.”
Instinct batted down the kindly girl I used to be. Couldn’t be kind—not to Aaron, not to myself—not now. However, youth will out. Something inside me wanted to escape for a fun-filled morning without having to go on a ‘killing spree.’
I stuck to my guns though and shook my head. My regret was obvious, which soothed the rejection for him. “I am so very sorry, but I have plans for most of the day.”
He inclined his handsome head. “Of course you do. What is wrong with me, dropping in on you last-minute like this? May I call you to set up another day for it then?”
Did I want to get out of this? Yes and no—remember, this guy was most definitely hot! “Yes, of course—call, we’ll set up a date.”
Danté politely went to the front door, which by the way had remained open this entire time. He stood there smiling, but there was no warmth in it. “Later … Squire,” he said softly as a dismissal.
“Good day to ye then, Squire,” Sally said as she nodded and turned on her heel to leave.
I walked Aaron outside and had to brush by Danté as I walked out. His aroma of vanilla and herbs was intoxicating, and I shot him a quick look. His gold-dust eyes were cold and gave away nothing.
I turned to Aaron and shook my head. “Sorry about that. Sally thinks she has to protect me from strangers—because of what happened to my dad, and because my mom is away.”
He touched my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I totally agree with her—you must be protected from strangers.”
I wanted to step away from him, away from his touch, but I didn’t. I liked the contact. Aaron could be fun at the very least …
He looked into my eyes and whispered, “I could get lost in there, but you must hear that all the time.”
I smiled ruefully. “Not in a few months anyway.”
He laughed out loud. “I shall have to find another way then of telling you that your eyes slay me.”
I giggled. “I think you just did.”
I watched him jump into his black Porsche, waved back at him, and then watched him drive out of the courtyard and make his way down our long, winding driveway. I turned to find Danté, arms folded across his massive chest, waiting for me in the arch of the open doorway.
* * *
“You don’t have time for him,” I told Z as I closed the door, and I heard the irritable tone of my voice—damn straight, irritable; I was damned irritable. I thought after our pleasant evening she would be more reasonable and refrain from forever putting herself out there and in danger. However, I should have known; she was but a wee child of a woman, willful and irrepressible. She would constantly be a trial to me. How could I protect my enfant if she persisted in cultivating the friendship of strangers at this time? It was all very annoying.
“That is my business,” she answered softly.
“Your business—infuriating Daoine.” I took her shoulders, and they felt good in my hands, but I glared at her. “Until this thing with Gaiscioch and the prophecy are done, everything you do is my business.”
She eyed me with those deep green pools that were her eyes. It was as though I looked directly into her soul, and it was perfection; those eyes of hers seemed to pull on something, somewhere inside me I had thought was hollow.
“What’s up with that?” she asked with a rueful expression. “This prophecy you keep mentioning—what is the prophecy exactly, and what do I have to do with it?”
“You are the prophecy. It is written that a Daoine princess child of Druid man will face the blackest Seelie that ever breathed. My queen knows only that part of the prophecy, told to her a very long time ago by the Dark King. We don’t know the outcome, only that she will be the one to finally face him in the final battle. She—being you. There is no other Daoine princess child of Druid man.”
“Well …” she scoffed. “That stinks, doesn’t it? I mean what is the good of a prophecy if it doesn’t lay out the possibilities?”
“But it does—clearly. You will stand up to Gaiscioch to win or to lose—however, although it doesn’t mention me, I shall be there, at your side, to make certain you don’t lose. I mean to be with you when you face him, and I mean for you to win,” I told her and realized keeping her safe was beginning to mean more to me than anything else I had ever done.
She reached up her delicate hand and touched my face, and I felt a wave of electricity burn through my body and reach my groin. “Ah, Danté … I truly believe you mean those words,” my enfant
said in a voice that was soft and soothing. “So I will forgive you some of your overbearing ways.”
I had this overwhelming need to hug her to me and never let her go. She was always setting herself up to get caught in the middle of some outrageously dangerous escapade, but I couldn’t let myself care on a personal level for her. I told myself roundly that I only felt this way because I admired her brave façade—that was the only reason I cared. She was worthy of my protection.
This was all about the mission, nothing else. I set her aside—I didn’t want to be so close to her. I had to move away because the raging hard-on I was suffering had nothing to do with my mission. I turned away and said aloofly, “Meet me in the training room. I shall be there presently. Be dressed for battle.” I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t let her see the effect she had on me. I had to get away.
* * *
As Danté asked, I dressed for battle all right. I was in stretch jeans, sneakers, and a tank top. I looked at myself in the wide mirror that took up part of one wall in the training room. Looked more sexy than battle-ready. What—was I supposed to don army fatigues? I had some cool rock ’n’ roll blasting while I waited and practiced some of the karate moves my dad had taught me. “Te”, as he called it, was all in the hands … hands that would never challenge mine again in this room …
All at once, it came upon me like bile in my throat. Hatred spewed into my brain. Loss, total and final, took over my heart. The Bible gives us a quote, ‘Vengeance is mine—and I will repay!’
The door opened and Danté entered, naked to the low waist of his dark leather pants and looking like a warrior ready to do battle. I eyed him and knew a sure, heated desire. For a moment I thought of lying him down … and climbing right on …
However, he immediately changed the mood as he came at me like a train out of control, and I shifted and was no longer there. Idiot me wanted to stick out my tongue.
When I reappeared across the room, he stood and grinned widely. “Good … very good …” He was in my face as I took a moment and luxuriated over his compliment. He had me trapped in his arms, and he whispered, “Now what, enfant? Wither thou shift … so do I.”
I shifted us to another dimension, but that was a mistake, as the dimension was full of stampeding dinosaurs. He shifted us out and back into the training room. “Come on then, little Z … you can do better.”
I stomped on his foot; startled, he released me, and I shifted to the other side of the room. Anticipating his shift, I shifted again, and again, and finally he put up an arm and bent over to laugh right out loud and exclaim, “Enough … well done, very well done.”
I was so happy I put away the distance between us, ran to him, threw my arms around his middle, and hugged. “Thank you. I have been waiting for you to notice that I am better than you realize.”
“Ho ho … I did not say that.”
I heard the tease in his voice as he disengaged my arms and set me aside. He was always setting me aside. It was most annoying, so I decided to annoy him and said, “If we get done early enough, perhaps I should call the young squire and give him the … tour he seems to want so much?”
He frowned darkly and grumbled, “You won’t be done in time, and besides … I haven’t decided whether or not you will be allowed his company ever.”
Didn’t really want Aaron’s company—had no real intention of calling him that afternoon, but that was a razor slicing open my contrariness. “Oh, and you think you can tell me who I can and cannot see?”
“I do.”
“Well, you can’t.”
“I am afraid you have no choice. I can make this difficult for you, little Z.”
“How?”
“You don’t want to find out, and please do not force me to do something unpleasant.”
“Arrogant, obnoxious Prince of Lugh! I will have you know—I am a Daoine princess and will not be threatened.”
He grinned. “Then take it as only a promise—not a threat.” He smirked and added, “Now call for your sword …”
“No.” Very childish I knew, but that’s what I was at that moment. He gave my rump a light slap.
“Call for it.”
I liked his hand on my rump. I felt my eyelashes brush my cheek, and when I brought my eyes up to him I said it again, but this time, I flirted with the word. “No.”
The next thing I knew I was in his arms, he was bending towards me, his mouth was at my ears, and he whispered, “Perhaps my princess prefers a different sort of play this morning?”
Trapped—he had trapped me, and suddenly I knew … it was what I wanted. I wanted him to take me, rough, wild … on the floor … but all at once he released me and stepped away. “Call for your sword,” he said softly.
I gritted my teeth and did just that, and it was in my hand. My sword could wound a Fae, and sooner or later that wound would prove fatal. It could also instantly kill. I didn’t trifle with weapons of any kind, but the death sword was way too dangerous to even point at a Fae. I had learned my lesson and didn’t play that kind of game.
I stepped back and lowered my sword to stand and face him. I smiled cockily at him.
“Well done, enfant. You handle it responsibly. Now, without blinking, without showing anyone that your mind is occupied, put the Death Sword away.”
Ah, I would have to refrain from blinking, which was something totally unnecessary, and yet, I caught myself doing it so often when I performed my magic. I had to concentrate to put the sword out of reach, but I had to pretend I was being observed. Give nothing away. I put on a poker face, the one my father had taught me to use, the one that so often made him double over in laughter … and the sword was gone.
I was surprised to hear a chuckle from Danté. “You are top of your class today, enfant.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Am I?” he asked, and then burst out with a throttle full of more laughter.
“What? What is so funny?”
“Your face, little Z … your face was so determined to give nothing away. Anyone who didn’t know you would not have had a clue, but I could see you straining.” He laughed uproariously and bent over his knees.
I slapped at his bent shoulder. “Stop it,” I demanded and made a face at him, which only set him off again.
I folded my arms, and when he at last got control over his laughing fit, he said, “Very well, then, call for your practice sword, and we will go a few rounds.”
It occurred to me that the kind of rounds I wanted to go with him had nothing to do with my practice sword. Stop it, I yelled at myself. Where, just where was that coming from?
* * *
It was one of my father’s favorite spots, looking down on the valley of jigsaw greens and spreads of Caledonian pines.
Here reposed our dolmens, monoliths once used by the Seelie Fae as a mode of transport between dimensions—and time.
Here, my dad had been killed by Gaiscioch.
I had shifted to the spot after our training session that morning. Danté left, saying he had been summoned to Tir, and I needed to come here and think. I need to find a way to get to Gais. This waiting was driving me crazy with impatience.
Was I ready? I was not sure.
Nuad had said that he and Queen Aaibhe spelled the monoliths so that Gais would not be able to use them again to enter our world. He would find another avenue. He wouldn’t give up. I wanted to be there when he came through … but where would that be?
I moved over to the standing stones and touched them. To another they would feel cold; to me, they felt hot and alive. I stepped through the archway to the other side and turned to look back when I suddenly got an eerie feeling and spun around sharply. I gasped as I watched the atmosphere swirl and part.
I was no longer on MacDaun land!
Before I had a chance to shift away, I hear a familiar voice, loud, clear, and amused. “Always looking for trouble, eh, lass?” Chancemont in all his leathers, his loose blond hair flowing in the
breeze, his ocean blue eyes bright, walked right up to me and lifted me off the ground.
I was so relieved it was Chance and not a load of Unseelies that I forgot myself for the moment and hugged him even as I demanded, “Put me down.”
“Aye … as ye wish, warrior-woman,” he said jovially as he set me down on my feet. He made a showy bow, took my hand, and pulled me along, away from the portal—away from MacDaun land.
“What are you doing?” I didn’t trust anyone, and I eyed him questioningly as well.
“Your land is spelled against us.”
“Us—as in your kind—just what is your kind?”
“It is spelled against my kind,” he answered gravely and touched my nose. “And ye’ll have the answer to that soon enough.”
I regarded him thoughtfully. “Does that mean you and yours can’t step foot on MacDaun?”
“It means that it would be uncomfortable to do so.”
“Why—what are you exactly?”
He sighed. “Why must you know? Is it not enough that I mean to call you—for the time being—friend?”
“For the time being? What do you mean to call me after that?”
“Perhaps lover,” he whispered as he reached for me.
I sidestepped him. “Ha.”
“Do you think it funny? Very few women can resist me for long.”
He was cockier than even Danté and needed to be brought down a peg. “That may be true, but I am not one of those women.”
He smiled. “Come with me for a walk … and we shall see.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ah, you don’t trust me—or is it yourself you do not trust?”
His wicked grin was charming, but I was made of sterner stuff. “Hard to trust someone who won’t go the distance and tell you what he is.”
“But we fought together—that should be enough.”
“That was a common enemy. What happens when the enemy is no longer common to us both? What then?”
He touched my nose. “Wise little warrior, walk with me just for a little while—if you trust yourself, that is. I would that you would know me better.”