by Claudy Conn
“Did you fuck him, Miss Reigate? Tell me, was it all you expected a Fairy fuck to be?”
Everything about him was brutal and out of control. She was momentarily stunned, but not for long. “How dare you? First of all, who I fuck, when I fuck, where I fuck is none of your business!”
He went nuts. She hadn’t wanted this—it just seemed to evolve. He had pushed her button, and she reacted. She was suddenly crushed against him, and his mouth was devouring hers. His tongue found hers with willful and far from gentle expertise and beat it into submission. His body was charged as his hand went under her sweater, pulled at her bra, and exposed her breasts. His one hand had her pinned to him while his other hand found and fondled her nipples. Maxie really didn’t think of it as fondling; it was so much more. It was laying ownership. It was without restraint. It was raw, but it was without affection. And it wasn’t for her.
She yanked away from him, and her fist beat his chest. She pulled her sweater back down without bothering to put her bra in place. She just wanted cover. “Bastard!” She stomped at him. “I am not your bride. She is dead. I will never be Maxine. I have her name and maybe some of her looks … but I am not that woman. Don’t go thinking you can get her back in me!”
“I would never mistake you for her! She wouldn’t go to Tir with a Fae—”
“No, she wouldn’t. She was your bride … I am not. I am here because the Druid Realm and the Fae both think we need to be in close proximity to defeat the DuLaine. You have a major stake in this. You want your ounce of blood—you want your revenge. Me … I want selfishly to be out of this and unselfishly to keep her from ruining any more lives. I will do what it takes to see her dead, but from here on … the friendship I have offered you from day one is off the table … gone … over!”
“That is just fine with me. I don’t need a friend that plays one against another!” he spat ferociously.
She almost choked trying to get the next words out of her mouth. “Get your ass the hell out of my room!”
~ Nineteen ~
LAST NIGHT AFTER he’d stomped out of the room, she wanted to throw something at the door. Outrage infiltrated her body and took over her mind. How dare he? Who did he think he was? She thought she would pack up Uncle Kennet and go home immediately.
She had a life … at home, didn’t she? Oh yes, she did! If she weren’t anywhere near Julian, the DuLaine wouldn’t even bother with her, right?
Blinding rage made her pace. It didn’t happen often, as her nature was usually calm, but when it did, it was all-consuming. However, things that were all-consuming consumed, and then were over—fizzled out and gone.
Reason poked at her, and it was very annoying. You can’t go home now, Max. You have to see this through and finish the DuLaine. You can’t let her go on hurting and killing …
Out loud she told the room, “He is beyond horrible.”
She answered herself against her will. “So he is, but remember, girl, two sides …”
Maxie had this awful habit of always trying to see both points of view, and when she did, the anger inside her seemed to slide off and vanish. She found this a very irritating trait. She ignored it and went on seething a bit longer.
The reasonable voice in her head said, Guest in his house.
She answered, Right, sure, so he owns the house, employs his staff, but he doesn’t have any hold on me! His behavior was inexcusable. He was a brute in a heathen uniform and waved his temper at the wrong girl! Besides, didn’t he have Mary to console and keep him company?
You should have told Uncle Kennet at least.
Suck it in, she answered. It was over. Done. She was showered and dressed. She gave herself the once-over in the mirror. She liked the pretty black sweater, and the ragged jeans fit and felt great. She meant to go downstairs and borrow his nice warm, big jacket and—she opened the door and stopped short. There was a huge box from Bradbury’s of Scotland. She looked left and then right and then back at the box. Her eyes opened wider. What was this?
Ah, the prince no doubt had left her something. Probably poofed it over from the store. That made her smile. The thought occurred to her once more that a girl would be crazy not to fall madly in love with the prince of Dagda. He was a perfect being, if you didn’t count his age and immortality as drawbacks.
She picked up the box, turned back into her room, and placed it on the bed. Throwing off the lid she found a beautifully designed, navy, soft suede, hip-length and magnificently tailored jacket with a creamy colored wool lining. Oh yeah—she thought, her prince had excellent taste. She picked up the envelope and flipped it open.
Yours was damaged saving my life. I hope you like this one as much as I know you liked yours.
It was signed “Julian”.
Understated for sure. Not an ounce of romance there, and it seemed to her like it was some kind of pay off. She was stunned and almost outraged all over again.
As she stood and remembered that he had been gone yesterday morning, she realized he must have gone into Inverness. What did he do, have the store open early for him?
She grimaced and supposed that for a man with big bucks they did that sort of thing.
Maxine was heated up with confusion, which she found irritating. Again the annoying voice in her head whispered, The man was thoughtful enough to want to replace your jacket. Shouldn’t he get kudos for that?
No! She was in no mood to give him kudos or anything else. She wasn’t going to accept this expensive jacket. She didn’t need him to buy her a jacket. She would select and buy one for herself. That was that. Looking longingly at the Lauren jacket, she closed her eyes and put it back in the box.
Suddenly there was a parting of the airwaves—a movement and then a soft glow.
The prince called her Queen Aaibhe, which meant beautiful, for a reason. Maxie was again impressed with the queen’s entrance. She literally took the breath away and then fed it back, making one feel intense and exhilarated.
She was floating just a few feet off the floor, near Maxie’s bed, tall, ethereal, and sparkling in what Maxie thought of as Faery glitter. It made a cloud of sparkling gold all around her. Even the queen’s skin sparkled. Her eyes were so full of different glittering colors that Max couldn’t quite meet her open gaze. Her white-gold hair was all around her shoulders and down her back. Her form-fitting gown of silver—Max wasn’t sure what material it was but it seemed like satin—fitted her to perfection. Once again, she was saying Maxie’s name and telling her they needed to talk.
So, they talked.
She wasn’t with Max very long, and when she left, Maxie suddenly remembered that Julian did not know about DuLaine. It didn’t matter that she was mad at him. This was serious business. He had to be told about DuLaine, and she had to return the gift.
She quickly wrote him a note and then took the box with the beautiful jacket inside to his door. She slid the note partially under his door and hurried off downstairs.
In the kitchen she fixed some coffee and found some pastries. She hadn’t eaten a thing since the banana in Tir yesterday, and she was starving. She downed two muffins and two cups of coffee, and off she went for her usual hike.
* * *
He awoke and held his head. The wine had knocked him out. The drink had finally taken him, and he had slept until nearly five in the morning, when he woke, sat up straight, looked around, and asked himself right out loud, “What the bloody hell have you done now, Talbot? Just what have you done?”
Waving thorny tendrils of memory, a picture formed, and he groaned. You slammed into her room. You demanded to know where she had been, and when she told you, you asked her if she had fucked the Fae prince!
He scrubbed his face with his fingers and cursed himself as he recalled her look of astonishment and then her answer … bloody hell, her answer.
She will leave … I was a damn fool. She would leave. No—he answered himself. He knew what she was made of. He knew she would stay and probably never look at him
unless she absolutely had to—but she would stay to see it through.
She would never look at him. Isn’t that what you wanted, Talbot?
Hell, no! What then? Make amends—how?
It was driving him mad. She had said she wasn’t his bride. He didn’t think that. His bride was gone. He was here with this woman who was her own person, and she made his heart quake and his body burn.
Guilt … guilt because he was alive, because he hadn’t saved his bride, because … that way led to hell. He had to get past it. He had to find his way past that. He wanted this modern-day Maxie Reigate, and he damn well meant to have her!
Last night it had all gotten away from him. Jealousy reared its hoary head and found a target. The notion that she had been with the prince, confided to the prince, kissed the prince, turned him into a raving lunatic. He told himself that she was under his roof, under his protection, and she would obey his rules whether she liked them or not.
Yet, he knew she was her own person—did he want her any other way? No. He made up his mind. This woman, this wild, strange Druid woman prancing about in his home, was meant to be his. She wasn’t his yet … but he meant to rectify the situation.
He quickly showered and changed into jeans and a navy heavy knit sweater before going for the door and pulling it open. On the hardwood floor was a note and the box he had left for her outside her door last night.
He picked up the notepaper, unfolded it, and read:
My Lord Nuts of Talbot:
We tried to tell you yesterday, but you were too busy with your MARY.
DuLaine knows about you. I saw it in a past vision thingy. Also, the Druid Realm has informed Queen Aaibhe that their awful traitor is the one who betrayed us to DuLaine. It is just a matter of time before DuLaine knows exactly where we all are.
Okay—we need a viable plan. She needs to go down. Start thinking. The sooner we put her in the ground, the sooner I can get out of your castle and out of your hair. Oh, and thanks for the amazing jacket, but I can’t accept it.
It was signed, “Miss Reigate”.
He put Maxie’s note down on the nightstand and went thoughtful. Right, so DuLaine was on her way. Fine—they would handle her; sooner could be good. The Fae betraying them explained a great deal, and it explained what he learned when he’d probed Shamon yesterday afternoon. He paced for a few moments as he sorted out his thoughts and emotions.
This had to be handled properly, and he didn’t need to discuss it with the prince, the minx Max, or the queen. He needed to set things in motion. Eventually DuLaine would find their precise location. Why not now, and on their terms?
This time he wasn’t going off half-cocked into her territory. This time he wouldn’t be subject to her magic. This time they would choose the place and the time.
He picked up the phone and called Moore and Associates in London. A young secretary answered, and he asked for Shamon. While he waited he looked out his window for Maxie. He could see her just starting off for the woods. If he hurried he might be able to catch up to her.
Shamon came on the phone, and caution lined his voice. “My lord?”
“Shamon, I am not going to beat around the bush. We both know that DuLaine has been told that I am alive and residing somewhere in Scotland.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“What have you told her?”
“Nothing. I have been stalling. The Guardian has not given me any instructions. I imagine they are … discussing it with the queen.”
“Well, it is show time, Shamon. Time to start this game.”
“Are you sure, my lord?”
“Yes, you tell her that you have found my estate. It is heavily warded. Tell her.”
“Do you think that is wise? Are you ready?”
“The thing is, I am ready, and we may get lucky because I don’t think she is ready at all.”
“I don’t know, my lord—she is capable of much …”
“She was capable of much. She is in a new century with unfamiliar settings around her. There are technologies that are beyond her understanding. She has much to learn and many mistakes to make along the way. In addition to that, DuLaine does not know how I have evolved. Shamon, even you do not know what I am presently capable of doing. Do we understand one another?”
Shamon understood his lordship was issuing him a warning. “And the Guardian?”
“No secrets, Shamon. I don’t mean to keep this from the queen or the Realm. I simply wish to start the game!”
~ Twenty ~
SHE WORE IT right out of the shop. It wasn’t half as exquisite or as pricey as the jacket Julian had bought her. However, it was a very fine J. Crew blazer, made of lovely, soft tan suede. It had a thick wooly liner, and the fit was great, snuggly and warm. It would do for both hiking and riding Dimples. She was well pleased and in fact bought a pretty silk knit hunter green sweater as well. There, she said to herself with a smile, I feel so much better!
She got into the rental car and went to put the key in the ignition and, bam, he was right there beside her! Out of nowhere, just as Breslyn so often did, but although he was of impressive size and aura, there was nothing princely or pleasant about this Fae.
She gasped at first and then recouped. She sat back and centered her leather satchel handbag on her lap. He was wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt jacket with the hood pulled low. He wore a dark gray, heavy wool jacket over that. Sunglasses hid his eyes. A dark scarf covered everything up to his nose. She couldn’t see the color of his hair or the shade of his eyes. He wore dark gray sweat pants, but even so she could see the huge warrior form of his body that lay beneath the concealing clothing. She knew he was Fae, from his aura, but she couldn’t see what he looked like. She could see past Fae Glamour, but not past human clothing.
Hatred pulsed off his body in waves. It was such a deep, overriding thing that it seemed to have a life of its own. It came through as an entity, fed by the force of Dark Magic, and Maxie pinned herself against her seat as she felt its ugly tentacles. The hatred came off him in throbbing waves. It was a devouring worm inside him. Dark Magic oozed through him, and it was almost as though he was no longer Seelie. However, for the moment he meant to tolerate her. She wondered why.
“So here we have the little Shee Fios?” he said derisively. “Not much to you.”
“So—,” Maxie responded in like terms, “here we have the Fae traitor who hides to take his shot at a human. With all your power—you performed like the lowest of humans. Not very brave of you.”
As she had hoped, he became angry and sat up and towards her. Instead of flinching, as was her first instinct, she controlled her fear and bent towards him—as a show, but it allowed her to slip her hand stealthily into her bag. She had what she needed in her grip. She was shaking a little inside, but even so, she told herself, she was ready for this, for him.
“Do you know there was a time when we did not tolerate Fae Seers? As soon as we discovered one living in a village we would kill them. When we didn’t kill them, we used them, and when we were done we blinded them. Did you know that?”
“Yes … I know that,” she answered grimly. “And in spite of the Fae’s ancient mission against the Seers … many survived. What does that tell you?” Maxie was taunting him. She was the one who had to remain calm. She needed him on the edge.
“Your kind, my dear, have enjoyed the queen’s protection—until now.”
“You are working outside her circle against her circle. She knows it. She will find out who you are and finish you.”
“I am not a traitor. I am doing what is best for my race because she has lost sight of what we are. She coddles the likes of you, and that is what has brought her low!” He spat this out, and the hatred sucked in all the air around her, making it hard to breathe.
He raged on. “There was a time when we ruled this earth. We ruled Ireland, and Scotland … we could have had all of this as our domain. It is time we ruled this earth again!”
“You f
orget you were defeated in the Final Battle.”
“Not defeated, you puny human! My race reveres life. My kind made a conscious decision to spare the humans—allow you your planet … create a world for ourselves, because we could. I fought that decision then … and now I mean to reverse it!”
She pulled out the Rowan Wand and concentrated with the Druid power in her head as she touched him with it. “To the queen’s chambers!” she hissed, and he was gone. She looked around. Had it really worked?
She hadn’t doubted the queen when she gave her the wand earlier that morning. She had given Maxie explicit instructions. Max knew how to use it. Still, when it actually worked right before her eyes, it actually made her eyes open wide with surprise. For one long moment she forgot how to think.
It was done. Slam-bam, she had done it. She was extremely proud of herself. The traitor Fae had not expected it, and she had managed to stay alive long enough to use it. The queen had expected he might appear. The queen told her to goad him into a temper and then zap.
Whew! She started breathing again. Would he come back? Would the queen be in her chambers? Would she see who it was? She put the precious wand in her lap and started the car. Yup—time to boogie.
* * *
Breslyn was looking at his queen and thinking about Lia. It was time for him to leave Tir and get back to her. DuLaine was on the loose, and Lia would be in danger. However, the queen was edgy and not ready yet to dismiss him. There was something she was keeping from him.
They were on the balcony when the traitor Fae appeared in her private chamber. He was strangely dressed, and Breslyn focused his attention for a split second, trying to determine his identity through the strange human clothing. Even though the prince was caught off guard, he went forward, calling for his death sword. It appeared in his hand as he moved like the warrior he was without fear, towards the traitor Fae. However, there wasn’t time. As soon as the unknown Fae appeared, he shifted out, leaving Breslyn standing with his sword raised high.