Hope Everlastin' Book 4

by Mickee Madden

  "Oh?" Laura murmured warily.

  Blue grinned. "A chamber has been readied for you in Faerie. For the remainder of this day and all of the night, I promise you no interruptions or distractions. All you need to bring with you is the magic of your love. I've taken care of everything else."

  His face aglow with elation, Roan asked, "All this for a plate o' bacon?"

  She winked at him. "Imagine what a heaped platter would inspire in me."

  * * *

  Conversationally, Blue told Laura and Roan they would be reduced to the four-inch height of the fairies as they entered the invisible passage through the new oak, to accommodate the kingdom's dimensions. Laura wished she didn't know. It was all she could think about, although the furnishings and everything else lent the illusion that they were normal size. Blue gave them a brief tour of the main chambers then instructed one of the male fairies to show them to their "special place."

  Laura clung to Roan's arm as they followed the reticent male down several corridors. She was a bundle of raw nerves by the time he stopped in front of a mural. To her bewilderment he was smiling and gesturing to the artwork, as if she and Roan should understand what it meant. She didn't. And the puzzlement on Roan's face said he didn't, either.

  The painting was of a large, arched, double set of wooden doors, similar to the entrances of ancient castles. Two iron rings were painted on each side, and a thicket of green and white ivory framed the doors and crept along sections of the aged wood. The detail was incredible, but nonetheless it was a painting.

  To break the silence, Laura said, "Very nice. It almost looks as if we could walk—"

  With a gesture of one of the fairy’s hands, the doors began to soundlessly part inward. Laura gripped Roan's arm with all her might, her eyes wide in disbelief and awe. She couldn't bring herself to look into Roan's face to see if he was as stunned by what stood before them, but from the rigidity of his body she strongly suspected he was.

  "If you need aught mair," said the fairy with a gracious bow of his head, "just call ma name."

  Roan frowned.

  The young being smiled patiently. Blue must have introduced him, and yet neither Laura nor Roan could remember his name.

  "Brandigan."

  "Thank you, Brandigan," said Roan.

  Brandigan gestured for them to enter the chamber beyond the threshold. Roan hesitantly glanced into Laura's eyes then heaved a sigh and led her into the room. Once the doors were cleared, they closed with the same soundlessness. The draft the momentum created told the couple they were now shut off from both worlds. It didn't matter. This getaway exceeded their expectations. Exceeded anything their imaginations could have conjured up.

  It was spacious and round, with torches mounted on the walls approximately three feet apart. Alternately, the flames were aqua blue, purple, and fuchsia, and their glow bled across the room in iridescent wisps that swirled and ribboned through the air. There was no smoke, only a fragrance which strangely reminded them both of gardens and the sea and rich earth.

  The most astounding feature of the chamber was the pool in the center, roughly forty feet in circumference. Its still water glowed with varying shades of purple luminescence, as if lights were mounted on the bottom.

  Hand in hand, Roan and Laura stood atop a portion of the ivory, partly covered rocks bordering the pool and stared down through the deep crystal clear body of water to see there was only smooth rock on its floor. There appeared to be no origin to the lights.

  A few feet from their position was a bed of large plump pillows within a gazebo built from woven roots and vines. Bowls of mystery treats and two pitchers of liquid adorned a table by the arch. A short stone path led to stone steps into the pool.

  Laura looked up and released a sigh of sheer contentment. An illusion of stars winked in the dome-shaped ceiling. This combined with the swirling, ribboning mistlike colors in the air, made her feel as though she stood in the center of a galaxy in the process of birth. The enchantment of it all overwhelmed her, and she wept silent tears.

  Roan drew her into his arms and held her for a time. Somewhere in the distance a soft orchestration of insect sounds reached them.

  "This can’t be real," he murmured, slipping back into the manner of speech he most favored. "Laura, pinch me. I need to know if I'm dreamin’."

  A sound caught in his throat when she obligingly pinched his left buttock. Holding her away from him, he observed the impish gleam in her eyes then laughed and threw his arms around her in a brief although bearish hug.

  "Last one in!" he cried, jumped back and began to unbutton his shirt.

  Laura arched one eyebrow, grinned then dove into the pool. He was quick to follow. His head broke the surface a moment after hers. Face-to-face, paddling to stay afloat, they smiled into each other's eyes with the unspoken affirmation that this time was theirs to rekindle the carefreeness and abandonment of their youth, to make love within the womb of this magical place with no chance of interruption.

  "How does the water feel to you?" she asked excitedly.

  At first, Roan's mind couldn't formulate a proper description. Then he said, "Like rain water!" and laughed.

  "It's so soft against my skin," said Laura wondrously, "it almost doesn't feel real. And it's delicious, Roan. Taste it."

  He took some into his mouth, swished it around and swallowed it. "It’s sweet."

  Laura ducked beneath the surface. When she came up, she jettisoned a stream of water from her pursed lips, hitting him in the face. Thus began the splashing, dunking one another, and the challenges of laps across and around the perimeter of the pool. On all accounts Laura won—only she knew, because Roan deliberately held back. They frolicked for a long time and, although their muscles should have been aching with fatigue, they experienced quite the opposite. Both felt as if they were imbued with an endless source of energy.

  Bobbing on the surface, his legs pumping to keep him afloat, Roan held out his arms. With a laugh, Laura glided through the water into his embrace. He led her into a rendition of a waltz. They swirled round and round and to and fro, and she wondered if he could dance so eloquently on a dry surface. He hummed a tune she didn't recognize, but discovered his voice was deep and melodic.

  Unexpectedly, he pulled her against him and kissed her.

  They submerged, deeper and deeper, wrapped around each other, and settled on the bottom of the pool. The kiss went on for an indefinite time, and both were relatively sure their lungs should have forced them to resurface for more air. They separated and exchanged a look of puzzlement.

  Roan opened his mouth. No air bubbles escaped, nor did the water enter the cavity. He inhaled and exhaled through his nostrils. It was if he were breathing air. He gestured for Laura to try and, after several moments, she widened her eyes in amazement.

  For nearly another hour, they romped underwater like sea creatures, playing tag and pretending to have tails in lieu of legs, then somersaulting from one side of the pool to the other. Finally, hunger prompted Roan to leave the water and go to the gazebo. While eyeing the small banquet he stripped out of his clothes and placed them on the ground outside the arch, then took one of the bowls and returned to the edge of the pool.

  "I'm starving," Laura said.

  Roan glanced at her and did a double take. He sat on the rock ledge and lowered his feet into the water. Laura was in the center of the pool, the upper part of her bare breasts bobbing in and out of the water. She, too, had removed her clothing. He didn't care where she'd tossed them. The water was so clear that he could make out every detail of her nakedness, as if she was standing directly in front of him. When he lowered the bowl to a rock next to him, she swam to where he sat and plucked one of the objects from the bowl. It was light brown and perfectly round. She bit into it and rolled her eyes appreciatively. The texture was similar to the meat of a walnut, but was sweet and strangely juicy. Whatever it was, she ate half the bowl before grinning up at him.

  "Try one. They're d
elicious."

  "Wha' are they?"

  "I have no idea but they're really good."

  He popped one into his mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. He repeated this three more times before commenting, "Hmm, they are good." Jumping to his feet, he went to the table and returned with two bowls containing different delights. They proved to be as succulent and as mysterious as the first.

  When all three bowls were empty, Roan sighed with contentment and smiled lazily at Laura's upturned face. She had her crossed arms resting atop the rock by his left thigh, and her chin braced atop them. There was a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes, prompting him to ask, "Wha' are you thinking abou', love?"

  "If it's possible we could make love at the bottom of the pool."

  His eyebrows lifted. “Since we can breathe in this water, why not?”

  He dove in from his sitting position, broke the surface and gestured for her to follow him. Laura didn't hesitate. By the time she reached the bottom, he was sitting with his arms opened to her. She sat on his lap, facing him, bemused by the fact they weren't buoyant as they would be in ordinary water. This pool seemed to respond to their needs, and once again their lungs didn't demand air. Their bodies required nothing but the love they had for one another.

  Their lovemaking began with a slow, penetrating kiss and progressed with each exploring the other with their hands. The water caressed and coddled them. Awarded them the sensation of being submerged and sheathed in liquid tranquility, while freeing them to do what no other human being had experienced in this capacity. Their senses were heightened to only one another.

  Each stroke fired up nerve endings with unparalleled sensitivity. Two bodies of flesh and muscle and blood were as one. What Laura experienced, Roan shared. What Roan experienced, Laura shared, giving each a better understanding of what their lover preferred.

  They were of one mind. One soul. One embodiment.

  Roan's mouth sought the rigid nipple of her left breast. The pleasure he normally felt was magnified when it was he who felt her sucking at his breast, while she experienced what should have been his sensory stimuli. This reversal of awareness and sensations brought a new and exciting element to their lovemaking and they lingered in their exploration, wanting to imbibe every nuance of sense-data now available to them.

  Their legs entwined and their bodies stretched out against one another, they hovered horizontally above the bottom of the pool. The water gently rolled them round and round, obligingly utilizing their desire to feel as if they were atop solidity and in control of their movements. Curious to know what Roan felt when he entered her body, Laura positioned her legs about his hips, reached down and guided him into her, only it was her experience that she was encompassing a part of herself inside him.

  Roan, who had never thought about the woman's perspective of entry, was enraptured. In a most peculiar way, they felt as though they were making love to their own bodies, but reasoned this was how it was meant to be. The giving and receiving of pleasure, of physical love, was best when balanced.

  Long after the spell had begun and they had satisfied one another in every imaginable and then some unimaginable ways, they left the pool and stretched out on the pillows. They lay wrapped in each other's arms, their legs entwined, and staring into each other's eyes with an unspoken vow that this time together was only their beginning. Whatever pain the past had dealt them, it was now irrelevant and held no purchase in their lives. There would never be fear of what awaited them in the future.

  Together they would walk each path, and meet every challenge as a team.

  This magical chamber had bestowed on them a most precious gift.

  A new appreciation of life.

  * * *

  Blue's eyelids were heavy, but she resisted sleep. Her chamber was as quiet and as still as a breezeless night on an uninhabited planet. The torches were out. She stared into the darkness, content in the knowing her gift to Roan and Laura had been well used. They were nice people. So were Lachlan and Beth, and Deliah's Winston. She'd long ago learned to mistrust humans, sure they were all inclined to be destructive creatures, as well as self-centered, blind to nature, and intolerant of their own.

  That opinion had changed now. She not only considered these couples her friends, but knew the children would also become allies. So many kingdoms around the world had vanished. Without hope, magic waned. Without purpose, there was no hope. Mother Nature was a stickler for balance, and sometimes she found it necessary to end certain species. She had always favored her wee folk, but Blue understood that the time would come when even the fairies, too, would fade out of existence. No creature was an exception. It wasn't something she dwelled on.

  What would be the point?

  Sighing, she folded her hands atop her chest and closed her eyes. Had other kingdoms discovered that fairies and certain humans could share a very rewarding co-existence? Deliah and Winston's child was proof there were changes unfolding within both worlds. She wished she knew MoNae's plan, but then also told herself she delighted in the mystery.

  What would it be like to have a human lover?

  The thought saddened her. Of course, she would never know. It was not her nature to deny the bond MoNae had created between her and Reith. A life of celibacy and loneliness was preferable to dishonoring herself. Pride was all she had left, and it would have to be enough. Unfortunately, there were ninety-nine years, forty weeks, and three days remaining to her reign. One hundred years now seemed an eternity to her, but it had always been the required term in all the kingdoms. It wasn't always easy to ignore her desire to isolate herself from fairies and humans alike. But that was simply too, too unqueenly.

  Besides, she was actually enjoying herself since the kingdom's return to this land, thanks to Baird House. There was nothing normal in the stars for any of the occupants. They would cope, though, whatever the challenge and she looked forward to observing them in the decades to come.

  As for herself, after the long centuries of suffering the frustration and indignity of her virginity she had found a solution─for her frustration, anyway. Whenever the old feelings of love for Reith rose up to taunt her, or whenever her body ached to join with his, she now had a way to lift herself out of the morass.

  Bacon.

  She'd found her escape.

  Love be damned.

  Chapter 17

  Lachlan wasn't sure what brought him to the tower until he saw red and gold streaks in the distance and realized the sun was creeping over the horizon. The air was already muggy and warm.

  Insects buzzed, and birds chirped. Peacocks perched atop the multiple levels of the rooftops on the mansion, geared up to voice their greeting of the new day. The peahens never left the ground, and were far quieter than their male counterparts.

  One bird released a cry, inciting the others. Lachlan winced yet smiled, his gaze sweeping fondly over the creatures that had graced this land even before his arrival. He braced folded arms atop one of the higher sections of the crenelated wall and inhaled deeply. Above all else he smelled the rose gardens, the fragrance tantalizing his olfactory sense like a lover's seductive caress. Unbidden, tears misted his eyes.

  "Ye're a damn fool, Lachlan Ian Baird," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He tried to will back the moisture, but a tear escaped down his cheek and he self-consciously swiped it away with the back of a hand.

  He'd awakened several hours ago to the realization he'd been having a nightmare. Although he had no memory of it, the aftermath haunted the periphery of his awareness. Granted, he was juggling a lot these days, with "the parents" trying to settle in, the lads overly active with all the new attention they were receiving, Taryn having absconded with the MacLachlan dirk, the fairies, and foremost, his stupidity in drawing the media to the estate once again. Any one item on that list was enough to make him restless. Combined, they chafed his idea of the man he'd believed himself to be once upon a time. The Lachlan of the nineteenth century no longer existed. In this time, his confid
ence took repeated blows. There was so much to learn and adjust to. Failure had never been in the old Lachlan's vocabulary, but these days the possibility of it shadowed his every waking minute.

  A flutter of wings drew his attention to his right, and a smile turned up one corner of his mouth. "Good morn, ma paughty friend," he said, reaching out to smooth a hand over the bird's extended head. "I thought I heard you caterwaulin’ wi' the ithers."

  Braussaw cocked his head before releasing a cry that made Lachlan clench his teeth and grimace. "I used 'paughty' affectionately." Gently lifting the peacock into the crook of his right arm, he chuffed an appreciative sound when Braussaw rubbed his head against Lachlan's bare chest and throat. "Weel, arena we a friendly lump o' feathers this morn?"

  The bird fidgeted and Lachlan set him on the wall in front of him. Braussaw strutted in place and fanned his tail for several moments before settling down so Lachlan could more thoroughly stroke his breast.

  Lachlan's gaze shifted to view the sun's slow ascent. The brilliant orb filled him with a fey sense of renewal, one he couldn't define at the moment.

  "Anither day," he said more to himself than the bird. He lowered his gaze to the peacock's steady perusal of him. "You were here afore me, and you'll be here when I'm gone. I've always trusted you to watch over the ithers. Dinna let ma absence sway you from yer duties."

  A choked sound escaped his control, and he rolled his eyes to the heavens. The humidity in the air clung to his bare skin, and he absently ran a palm over his chest and down the thigh of his black pants as he regarded the ancient peacock. When he had first begun building Baird House, Braussaw was there.

  Watching.

  Listening.

  Squawking his disapproval of what he considered a violation of his land. Although the bird was unusually aggressive for his species, he had also been quick to make friends with Lachlan, staying at his heels like a loyal puppy and craving attention for the duration of the construction of the house. After that, Braussaw was content to receive an occasional visit from the new master of the land.