by Mary Morgan
“All I have is porridge for ye, Lady Erina,” stated Larena, and she pointed to a small pot hanging over the fire. “Unless ye are here for more cooking instructions?”
“Porridge is fine, Larena.” Retrieving a bowl, Erina went to the hearth and scooped out a small portion. As she took a seat in the corner, she looked around for any berries or honey to sweeten the bland meal.
Brother Michael sat down across from her and proceeded to hand her a bottle of rose syrup. “I have put the other bottles high near the box of salt and spices. Ye have four and I have given the cook a couple to use in her dishes.”
“Ye are too kind, Brother Michael. Thank ye.” Erina took the syrup and squeezed his hand. Opening the top, she dipped her spoon inside and poured some over the top of her porridge.
His eyebrows rose in mischief. “So ye cannot stomach the fine fare in your bowl?”
“I’d rather have a stale bannock,” she muttered, watching the sticky liquid trickle across her meal. She resealed the jar and set it down. Taking a bite, she savored the sweetness, letting the food linger on her tongue. “Divine.”
The monk folded his arms over his chest. “I am happy to hear of your enjoyment.”
“When I return to my cottage, ye must come for a visit and teach me how to prepare this delectable treat.”
A frown skittered over his brow, but he kept silent.
“Regardless of what my brother wishes—demands, I am returning to my cottage.”
“I will pray on the matter.” Rising, he added, “Enjoy your meal.”
As she watched him depart, Erina had no desire to finish her meal. She grew weary of the same battle with her brother. Not one man would stand beside her in support. “Mayhap we’ll both flee together, Catherine,” she uttered softly. She picked up the bottle and tucked it inside the pocket of her cloak. Standing, Erina went to a large bucket filled with water and placed her bowl nearby. She waved farewell to Larena and left the kitchens.
A blast of brittle air greeted her as she left the castle. Rubbing her hands together to ward off the chill, Erina darted through the bailey, dodging past a couple of stray cats. As she entered the warmth of the stables, she went directly to Oberon’s stall and halted. Apparently, someone had taken upon himself to prepare her horse for riding.
Erina leaned back to peer inside one of the other stalls. Excitement skittered across her skin. “Do I have ye to thank?”
Rory smiled as he led his horse out of the stall. “Aye.”
Oberon nudged her, but she kept her focus on the man in front of her. “Are we going somewhere?”
“I hear there is a faery glen called Reeves Grove deep within the forest, where a cave dwells filled with shining stones.” He took a step forward, and his heat invaded her. “Take me there.”
She placed a hand on his chest. “Why do I sense ye ken of this special place?”
Rory’s lips twitched in mirth as he bent his head near her ear. “Aye, but I have never visited.”
The touch of his breath sent tremors down her spine. She trembled with desire, and turned her head to meet his lips. Hot and demanding, he devoured her mouth in a searing kiss. By the time he broke free, heat had entered every pore of her body.
“Let us take advantage of the fine day, before the snow descends,” he suggested and moved aside.
Erina could only nod and follow as he led both horses out of the stables. He glanced around and then turned to help her mount her animal. After adjusting her fur-lined cloak, she waited for Rory. Soon, they both galloped through the portcullis and headed for the hills.
The glen was over the first ridge of hills, and the higher they ascended, the more the wind slashed at them. The terrain became treacherous at times, and Erina had doubts about continuing farther. She glanced upward as ominous gray clouds gathered and uttered a silent prayer to the Goddess to hold back the threat of rain, or worse, snow.
“One moment the sun graces us with its beauty, and the next, the sky opens and unleashes its torrent of rain upon the land. How could I forget your wise words about the land, Grandmother?” she uttered quietly.
Unexpectedly, a shaft of sunlight pierced through the dismal sky, quickly banishing the impending threat of doom. Erina smiled, and nudged her horse onward along the narrow path. As they made their way to the top, the view opened, and she could see the area beyond a group of oak and yew trees.
Smiling, she pointed. “Do ye see north across the river?”
Rory gave his horse a gentle pat. “Aye, though strange to see the trees woven together.”
“The bards mentioned that the druids blessed the area many centuries ago. Only those with a pure heart may venture inside. Many of the villagers stay away from the place, for fear the priests will judge them as heathens.”
“Nae, I dinnae believe the tale.”
Erina noted the stern look of concentration on his face. “Then do ye ken the real reason?”
“I sense another purpose for the Fae, although, I cannot fathom the motivation. The area is shrouded in mystery, yet ’tis sacred to our people.” He turned his attention to her. “Even with my Fae senses, I am unable to fully understand.”
“My grandmother took me, once. She made me recite all the favorite flowers of the Fae inside the glen. Afterwards, I left a gift of honeyed bread.” Sighing, Erina cast her sight once more on the trees.
“When did ye visit?” asked Rory softly.
“Two months before her death.”
He reached out and grasped her hand. “A fond memory. Now, let us make another one.”
The warmth of his touch spread throughout her body, and Erina nodded. “Aye.”
After releasing her hand, Rory urged his horse forward, and Erina followed along after him. The land became a blur as they descended the hill and galloped across the land toward the trees. Clouds parted and the sun danced all around the special area. Her heart reveled, and all her worries were cast aside the moment they both entered the glen.
A sense of awe and peace descended over Erina, and she slowed her horse to a light canter. Bird song greeted them as they slowly made their way through the thick cluster of trees. At times, the path narrowed and leaves fluttered down as they passed. As they went deeper, the air warmed considerably. Onward they traveled over bare tree roots, moss, and aging leaves.
When they passed the last oak tree, Erina brought her horse to a stop. A curved path beneath the shade of a yew tree led to a bramble-and moss-covered entrance to the cave. Rory had already dismounted and was kneeling on the ground. His head was bent as if in prayer. Holding her horse back, she waited. This was his land. Somewhere inside her, Erina sensed the knowledge. She glanced around in all directions. The lush foliage was like no other she had encountered, or remembered. Vibrant wildflowers burst forth from the ground and surrounded him. She blinked in awe and dared not move.
After some time, Rory stood. He reached backward and held out his hand to her. Dropping Oberon’s reins, Erina rushed to his side. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist, and pressed his mouth to hers. She succumbed to the forceful domination as his tongue swept inside. Heat pooled in places she remembered from their lovemaking, and her knees weakened. He showered kisses around her lips and along her jaw, whispering words Erina did not understand.
Sweeping her into his arms, he strode toward the cave. She leaned her head against his shoulder and placed a hand upon his chest. His heart beat fierce against her palm as she closed her eyes. There was no doubt what he wanted, since her blood burned with desire for him as well.
As they entered the cave, Rory placed her down. Holding his palm outward, he blew across his skin. Light from the stones illuminated the place in a soft glow. Even the ground they stood upon glittered in soft hues. Water trickled down the stone wall into a small pool and lapped gently over other smooth stones. Erina’s mouth dropped open in awe. This was not the same cave she had visited with her grandmother. Yes, then it had a sheen to the place, but never this intense or lumi
nous. It was as if Rory had captured the moon glow and starlight and brought it inside. She turned her gaze to him. His eyes shimmered like stars, and Erina yearned to learn more about him.
“Are ye afraid?” he asked in a hushed tone.
She reached upward and touched his face. “How can I fear such beauty?”
Rory wrapped his arms around her waist. “I dinnae deserve ye, mo ghrá, but my love for ye expands to the stars and beyond.”
Her lip trembled, and tears misted her eyes. “And I love ye, Rory. I never thought to hear or say such words to anyone.”
Taking his thumb, Rory wiped away a tear that trailed down her cheek. “From this day forward, ye are mine, Erina. There will never be another.” His last words were smothered on her lips, teasing, coaxing, and sending her senses spiraling.
As his lips seared a path along her cheek, eyelids, and down along her neck, his hands removed the cloak and lacings of her gown and tossed them aside, until she stood in nothing but her shift. Releasing her, he stepped to a polished boulder and without breaking his gaze with hers, removed all of his clothing, including his boots.
Erina feasted her eyes on every inch of the man. “Dinnae move.”
He arched a brow mischievously, but complied.
Slipping out of her shoes, she let her toes curl into the soft ground. The air smelled of herbs, intoxicating and heady. Removing her combs and pins from her hair, she shook the mass free, and watched Rory’s gaze darken, along with his growing arousal. The power of seduction filled her, and she became brazen.
She moved toward him in unhurried steps. When she stood mere inches in front of him, Erina slipped out of her shift and brushed her fingers across his muscled chest, marveling at the firmness of his body. As she continued her path of exploration, she walked around him—her hands never leaving his hot skin. She heard the indrawn hiss, when she trailed one finger across his bum.
“I will not tolerate much more,” he ordered in a hoarse voice.
She chuckled softly and stepped back in front of him. Leaning forward, she swiped her tongue over his nipple.
His growl echoed all around them. When she teased the other one, he grabbed a fistful of hair and tugged gently. As she tried to utter a protest, he covered her mouth hungrily. The kiss was urgent, demanding, and Erina pressed her body against his. Slanting his mouth, he thrust his tongue deep into her, while his hands roamed over her body. With each stroke, her passion grew.
As his hands grasped her bottom, he ordered, “Wrap your legs around me.”
When Rory lifted her, Erina complied, and this time she grazed her teeth along the vein in his neck. She had no idea of where he was taking them, but she continued to tease and torment him with her own kisses. When the first splash of water hit her bottom, she moaned. The warm water caressed her body. Without releasing her hold on him, she showered his face with slow, lingering kisses.
“Ye are a temptress,” he murmured against her cheek.
“Is it wrong?” she asked.
“I find it…stimulating.” Rory placed her on the edge of a flat, smooth rock with her feet dangling in the pool. The water hit him below the waist as he stood before her with his hands on her thighs.
His smile raked over her body in delicious sensations. “I have longed to taste ye.”
Erina bit her lower lip. Was he really going to taste her? Down below? She shook her head.
He brushed her thighs farther apart. “Aye.”
She tried to scoot away, but he held her firm.
“I wish to give ye pleasure.” His eyes never left hers as he brushed his hand over her curls.
“Rory,” she uttered his name on a sigh. “Ye are tormenting me.”
Her body quivered from his touch. As she braced her hands on either side of the stone, she was completely under his control and watched in a sensual haze as he trailed kisses up her thigh. When the heat of his mouth touched her most private area, the touch sent a pulsing tremor burning through her body. Erina never imagined such pleasure as his tongue teased and coaxed the flame of desire. She was caught in a spellbound haze, and found it difficult to breathe as the passion grew within and then shattered into thousands of tingling sensations. Erina screamed his name, as he brought her into the water with him. Turning her away from him, he entered her in one thrust—deep and powerful, and she clutched onto the stone for support.
“I take ye here, on the land I can call home,” he growled into her ear and squeezed her taut nipple between his fingers.
Erina arched against him, wild and free.
Withdrawing again, he entered her again, and again, each time tracing a sensuous path with his lips over her ear, neck, and along her shoulders. The water slapped all around them, intensifying their need. His body imprisoned hers in a web of growing arousal, and her breathing became labored.
Over and over, Rory proclaimed his love for her and on the last thrust, lights danced in an arc of jeweled colors, and she splintered into a pleasurable abyss.
Rory’s cry of release was so powerful, the land shook under her feet, and for a moment, Erina thought she had flown to the stars.
Chapter Twenty
“With each new millennium, the realm of the Fae is bound to shift. If not, then we become as stagnant as the world we left behind.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Rory skimmed his fingers in a loving caress along her lower back, treasuring the peace that surrounded them within this sacred place. Erina did not know how unique this haven was for his people. Though the Fae no longer dwelled below, their mark was left in this glen and cave after they made the Hill of Tara their permanent home. Only the echoes of the past Fae whispered among the stones here and something else he was unable to grasp.
Sighing softly, Erina snuggled deeper against him and propped her head upon his chest. “Where are ye?” she asked, tapping a finger between his brow.
He reached for her hand, pressing a kiss into her palm. “As I stated earlier this place is honored among my people.”
“Agreed. But can ye share more?”
“When we first arrived thousands of years ago, there were two groups. One settled in Ireland and the other here in Scotland. This place was used for the Fae herbalists to study.”
“’Tis more beautiful than I remember.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Only because I used magic to lift the veil that was hiding its inner beauty.”
Erina glanced around. “My grandmother told me tales of how special this area of the land was to the Fae. It was the only knowledge she imparted to me.”
Rory propped his arm beneath his head. “Did ye ever ask your grandmother how she came to this knowledge? She was a woman of vast wisdom.”
Laughing softly, she replied, “Aye. And do ye ken what she answered?”
“Do tell,” he encouraged.
“The Fae spoke to her.”
All traces of humor vanished from Rory and he made to sit up. Hugging his knees to his chest, he reached out again with his Fae senses, probing, searching, and seeking an answer. Silence greeted him in return.
“What is wrong?” Erina placed a gentle hand on his back.
Rubbing a hand vigorously over his face, he turned back to her. “There is nae reason the Fae would speak to your grandmother. Dinnae take this wrong, but she posed nae value to our people.”
“Humph!” She poked him in the chest. “And mayhap ye are wrong.”
He roared with laughter and brought her to his chest. “It would not be the first time, mo ghrá.”
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and desire shot through his veins.
“Why did your people come here?”
Rory sighed. “To share and find new knowledge. Our home world was dying. Our sun was fading, turning our opulent world into a frozen land mass. This world was chosen for its abundant landscape. We thought the people were similar to our own, but once we arrived, we found it quite unexpected. Their minds were like those of our children. Yet, ove
r the years, we helped them to grow, learn, and prosper. Our dragons―”
Startled, Erina squeezed his arm. “Dragons?”
He nodded slowly. “Aye. They were benevolent beings. Sadly, all but one was killed in the battles.”
“I am sorry.” She wiped a hand over her brow and looked away from him.
Gently, Rory cupped her chin. “I sense your uncertainty of my words.”
“Nae. ’Tis hard to fathom your world exists, but I do believe ye.” She cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle the nervous laughter. “Goodness, if any heard our conversation, we both would be burned at the stake.”
Images of Erina’s body bound at the stake ripped through Rory’s mind, and he crushed her body to him. He would kill any who harmed her. “Dinnae speak those words, nor think them.”
“Sorry.” Her apology was muffled against his chest.
“There is nae need to apologize. But words have a way of drifting onto the winds for others to hear.”
Erina leaned back and studied his features. As she brushed away a lock of hair, she shivered. “Ye are correct.”
Rory reached for her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. His hand encountered a hard object within the folds and he withdrew a jar. “Is this a special medicinal ointment?”
“A gift from Brother Michael. Rose syrup. He brought several with him.”
He lifted the item, noting its rich hue. “Can ye not make the syrup? I have seen your garden and the stunning roses.”
Snorting, she took the jar from his hand. “Do ye ken the cost of sugar? Sadly, I am unable to make do with the short supply I have.”
“And the monk is able to procure a great amount of sugar?”
Smiling, she replied, “Nae. He has found a way to mix a small amount of sugar with his special honey. ’Tis delicious.”
Rory cocked a brow in amusement. Retrieving the jar, he opened the lid and dipped a finger inside. After scooping a small amount of the sticky syrup, he pushed the cloak from her shoulders. “I must sample this fare.”