Emerald Embrace

by Drake, Shannon

  “Good morning,” he told her.

  She smiled.

  He took her hand, but was silent, uncharacteristically silent, for the longest time. Then he said softly, “You know that I love you, Martise, do you not?” He rose, walking to the window, hands in his pockets. “I know that ye canna love this castle, Martise. Aye, or this place, for it has brought you nothing but pain and heartache. And I doubt, too, that ye could really love the laird of this castle, for it seems that I, too, have brought you little but trouble and heartache.” He turned back to her, leaning against the wall. “But ye are my wife in truth, ye know. And I do love you. I do not know when you so seduced my heart, for I was certain you were a thieving tart when you first arrived. And even then …”

  His voice trailed away. Heart pounding, Martise stood, facing him. “Even then, my lord?” she murmured.

  “Even then, I wanted you,” he said bluntly. “I wanted you with a burning that threatened to destroy my very soul. And when I touched you …”

  She took slow, sure steps that brought her standing directly before him. She slipped her arms around his waist and came up on her toes, pressing the softness of her breasts and the length of her body against him. She brushed his lips with hers.

  “When you touched me … ?”

  He groaned, pulling her into his arms, returning her kiss with a wild and vivid passion that rocked her and rendered her trembling, and wanting in return. But he lifted his lips from hers and whispered above them, “Once I touched you, I was yours forever. I could not bear not to touch you again and again. Not to have you. Not to force you, to keep you, to demand you … Not to love you,” he said at the last, and his breath mingled with hers.

  Her lips curled in a subtle smile, and she could not move away. “My laird?”

  “I love you, Martise.”

  “Oh …” she whispered.

  “Damn!” he swore suddenly, vociferously. “Will ye not say it, lass!”

  Her smile deepened and he swept her off the ground and back to the bed, and lay over her, and his lips seared hers, and his thumb stroked her cheek and parted her lips, and he broke away and kissed her forehead and her chin and her earlobe and her throat and the hot, wet fire of his demand came over her, creating desperate trails of desire throughout her blood, throughout her limbs. And she tried to grasp hold of him, running her fingers through his hair, but he could not cease to touch her.

  In a frenzy Bryan tore the gown from her, rending fabric and tiny delicate buttons, and not caring in the least. And straddled over her, he cast aside his shirt with the same careless abandon, and came down on her again, chest muscles rippling against her bared breasts, the dark hair teasing her flesh and eliciting an ever-surging spiral of desire to beat more strongly within her. His lips coerced, demanded, ravaged, and came tender again, and then he paused, just above her lips. “I have to tell you …”

  “Tell me!” she demanded heatedly.

  “Nay, not now!” he cried, “for I will have it from you, little Rebel, I shall!”

  She smiled and stole his kiss again. And she begged him to breathe his fire within her, but he ignored her, stoking her body with his desire, with raw, ragged demand. With a kiss and a stroke, with an intimacy that brought her trembling and undulating beneath him, and no longer taunting, but begging anew.

  And he rose above her, strong, so strong, and pulsing at the very apex of her need, and he smiled. “Nay, love, I’ll not be had so easily,” he teased. And so she cried out in frustration and caught his lips, nipping, licking, kissing …

  And whispering at last, “Aye, Laird Creeghan, I love you! Love you so much that I followed you no matter where you led. I dreamed that you were the dragon laird, sworn to take my life, and still, I could not leave you. Aye, Bryan Creeghan, I love you. With all of my heart, all of my soul, all of my life!”

  He let out a cry, something like a Rebel yell, yet wilder still, more ancient, like the Highlands themselves.

  And then he was within her, part of her.

  And the wind took them. The wind that was the beauty of Creeghan, wild and exciting, dangerous, sometimes violent, sometimes tender, and always, always, filled with the passion of the sea and the sky and the thunder.

  He loved her deeply and well, and when she thought that she was sated beyond belief, he loved her once again. And she was filled, and trembling, and so swept by the ecstasy that she clung to him, unwilling to be parted. Unwilling to ever leave his side.

  His hand cupped her head and pulled her close, and he placed a gentle kiss on her hair. “I had thought that we should go to the States,” he said

  She bolted up. “You meant that?”

  Dark lashes shielded his fire eyes as he stretched back lazily. “Aye, of course. We both need to be away. Ian and Conar know more about the castle estates than I do.” He frowned suddenly. “Why? Elaina mentioned it to you—she told me.”

  Martise flushed furiously. “I thought that—”

  “Ah. Saying that I was taking you to the States would make it possible for me to have you disappear—into a castle wall, I imagine.”

  “Well, I—”

  He pulled her back into his arms. “I do have quite a bit of mistrust to forgive you for, you know, girl.”

  “I didn’t really say—”

  He rolled over her and said intently, “I think it is something we both need to do.”

  “Aye,” she whispered, eyes shining. “And I’ll bring you to Eagle’s Walk.”

  He pushed away, rising, and for a moment she wondered what she had said or done to cause him to leave her. He padded naked to his frock coat and reached within a pocket. He cupped something in his palm and then smiled ruefully as he laid it between her breasts. He lifted his hand away and she gasped, stunned, as she stared down at the green firelights of her emerald, dazzling in the morning light.

  “My God! You found it! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged. “I tried to. Well, all right, I didn’t try very hard. I had to hear you say that you loved me. The emerald was what you wanted. And I didn’t actually find it. Jemie knew where it was all along. Bruce had set it in the folds of Mary’s skirts when he entombed her. He thought it would be the safest place. Bruce knew that something was going on. He couldn’t quite catch Peter. I believe he knew that you might come, and I think he meant to keep the emerald safe in the only way he saw possible. When I talked with Jemie, he told me.”

  “Jemie! What of Jemie?”

  “I’ve sent him to Edinburgh, to a friend, a doctor. He’s going to work with him. Peter played horrible tricks on his mind. But with time and care, perhaps, in a few years, he will be back with us. I don’t know.”

  He paused, staring at the gem. “I wasn’t sure I wanted you to have it. It was your escape. And yet, if you would just say that you loved me, I knew I would never let you leave me. Not even for Eagle’s Walk.”

  Her fingers closed around the gem and she threw her arms around her husband. “I’ll never leave you!” she whispered. “Not even for Eagle’s Walk.”

  “But we will go back to Virginia. And without your emerald. It’s to be saved. For our children. My love, I am a very rich man. A dark, dangerous laird, mayhap, but rich. And you forget, I fought your war. And I still love your land.”

  “Laird Creeghan, I love your castle, too. Oh, Bryan! I am delighted that we will keep Eagle’s Walk! But I will live with you wherever you desire. I do love you. With all of my heart!”

  She kissed him. And he kissed her in return. And fires might have risen between them all over again.

  But there was a fierce tapping on the door, and Ian called out excitedly, “Bryan! Bryan Creeghan. I donna mean to interrupt you, man, but get yer pants on!”

  Bryan’s brows shot up as he looked down at Martise. “Impertinent bloke, I dare say.”

  “See what he wants,” she urged, pulling the covers to her chest as he rose to slide into his breeches. He strode to the door and threw it open.

&nbs
p; “What the bloody hell is it, Ian?”

  Ian grinned, undaunted by his tone. “Ye’ll not be lieve this. Ye must come down, and now.” He looked past Bryan to Martise and winked. “Niall MacNeill has come home at last. He and Elaina are down in the hall together. And if you don’t come, and quickly, and make some arrangements, well, I’ll not answer for my ability to keep your sister chaste!”

  “Niall is home!” Bryan exclaimed.

  “Aye, and that he is.”

  “Jesu!” Bryan exclaimed. “We’ll be right there!” He closed the door and came back to the bed and lifted Martise up and swung her around. Then he buried his face against her throat, and he murmured, “Thank God! There’s always a give and take, is there not, my love? God took my brother and Mary and … Peter, but now he has given us back Niall, and most importantly, he has given me you.”

  She smiled and tousled his hair, and thought of Elaina’s words. “One must always have faith!” she had said, and hugged him fiercely to her. “And, my love, I swear, from this moment onward, all my faith shall be in you.”

  He kissed her gently, and she struggled in his arms. “My dear laird husband! We must see to your sister’s nuptials!”

  He laughed and set her down, and they helped one another dress, and then left the room. Arm in arm, they walked along the hallway, and then suddenly, at the top of the stairs, he turned to her.

  And he pulled her close and kissed her lightly. “My love, you are ever my lady!”

  She flushed, and she raised on tiptoe and kissed him in return. “And you, sir, are ever my wondrous dragon laird. And I should not survive without your fire.”

  He smiled, took her arm again, and led her down the great sweeping stairs to the hall of Castle Creeghan, where the shadows had all been dispersed, and the light of day came pouring in.

  Epilogue

  Lightning flashed with sizzling fury across the darkened sky. Thunder clapped, and when its drum had ended, the cry, the rising shriek and moan of the wind, sounded again, more fiercely, more plaintively.

  The dark rider did not care. Hurrying along the trail that led to Castle Creeghan—the great stone structure seeming truly this night like part of the cliff, part of the very rock—Bryan Creeghan was absolutely heedless of the weather.

  But then the wild weather had never bothered him. Neither had the roar of the surf, the call of the wind, or the hard cliffs and tors that had bred him. And tonight…

  Tonight, he was anxious to get home.

  He’d been down to Edinburgh, receiving the last of the papers that cleared Eagle’s Walk and made the property legally theirs, with no liens and no holds against it. They had traveled there last summer, soon after Peter’s burial—in the castle crypt, beside his wife—and after Elaina and Niall’s wedding. They had spent months there, and they had been good months, and he knew that they would come back often, probably every year. And in the future, one of their children might long to move there, as he had himself, long ago, before the castle had become his responsibility.

  But Creeghan was his, his heritage, and he had wanted his son born here.

  The ghosts of Creeghan were all at rest. The wreckers had been tried. Three men had been hanged, and the others, including Clarissa, had been deported. Peggy had cried for months, but she had been grateful for her daughter’s life, and her sons were there, and Michael had given her a beautiful grandchild, and so life was going on. There was warmth again, and trust, and a great deal of love.

  And tonight…

  Bryan had wanted a babe himself, and dearly. Martise had swiftly fulfilled the beginnings of that wish.

  He just hadn’t expected that son so quickly. The babe wasn’t really due for another month, but word had reached him along the way that he had best hurry, and so he was.

  Lucian reared as lightning flashed and thunder crashed, and the great bay lunged forward. Bryan rode hard into the castle courtyard, where Robert awaited him in the pouring rain, ready to take his things.

  He leapt down. “How is she?”

  “Hogarth reported just minutes ago that your lady does well and fine,” Robert assured him.

  Bryan smiled and hurried into the great hall, shedding his sodden greatcoat. Ian and Conar and his good friend Niall paced before the fire like expectant fathers themselves.

  “Bryan! Ye’ve made it!” Ian welcomed him, and took the offending coat.

  “Aye. And—”

  “Upstairs, man. Elaina and MacTeague and Holly are with her, and Hogarth is standing guard at the door like some great bulldog!” Niall told him with a grin.

  He nodded, then headed for the stairs. In the hallway he met Holly, rushing for the stairway, beaming from ear to ear.

  “Laird Creeghan!”

  He caught her arm. “Holly, is the babe—?”

  “Aye, Laird Creeghan! Hurry, MacTeague’s sent me with word and Lady Creeghan is resting and well and—”

  He hurried past her. “Laird Creeghan!” she called after him. “Wait, let me tell ye—”

  But he didn’t wait. He barely nodded to Hogarth, who was indeed guarding the hallway, and he burst through into his room.

  MacTeague was washing his hands, Martise was sitting up, features weary, but eyes alight, her gown fresh. She saw him, and she smiled, and he came to her side, kneeling down beside her. He saw the wee bairn in her arms and met her eyes again. “A lass? A lad? Tell me, my love.”

  “A boy, Bryan, but—”

  “A son!” He laughed, delighted.

  But then he noticed that his sister, Elaina, had come to stand behind him, and she nudged him, and he murmured a bit impatiently, “Elaina, I’m just meeting my son—”

  “Well and good, Laird Creeghan!” she remonstrated him. “But ye might as well meet them both at once!”

  And she plopped a second swaddled bundle into his arms. He looked from one tiny crinkled face to another, at one black-thatched head to the other, and then he began to laugh.

  “Twins!” he said to Martise.

  “Aye, Laird Creeghan, twins.”

  Her eyes were blue and dazzling. His love for her welled deep within him, and he kissed her tenderly and whispered his thanks to her for giving him two such beautiful sons.

  He rose from his knees, for he was the laird of Creeghan. Then he was smiling and laughing as he sat down and met the gazes of the doctor and his sister, and then his wife.

  “Twins! Just what Castle Creeghan needs!” he said.

  She laughed, too, and the others departed to give them some peace.

  Martise reached up to touch his cheeks, and was dazzled by the love and the passion in his eyes. Haunting eyes, fabulous eyes. The eyes of her husband, her lover, and now the father of her children.

  She smiled and reached for his kiss.

  For her, they would always be beautiful eyes. Exciting eyes.

  Beguiling…

  Eyes of fire.

  Nico d’Or was a kind and gentle man who lived in the age of dragons. Through a simple twist of fate, Nico married the lovely Princess Elisia, and the couple were blessed with a beautiful daughter, Marina. Would they live happily ever after?

  Well, not quite. The neighbor’s wife, Geovana, was neither sweet nor lovely, but a devious sorceress who spent her time casting dreadful spells, devising vile tricks, and mixing powerful potions with eye of newt and the horn of a toad.

  Geovana used one of her favorite spells—strategically hurling rocks through windows to smash into the heads of her victims— tragically killing both Nico and Elisia, and leaving the beautiful Marina all alone. To make matters worse, Geovana became Marina’s guardian and, greedy for power, arranged a marriage between Marina and her own evil son, Carlo Baristo.

  But Marina was in love with someone else. And as Christmas Day approached, Marina was faced with a terrible choice: save her land and her people, or follow her heart and believe in the magic of Christmas and true love.

  ISBN# 978-160542071-4

  Hardcover Adult / Illustra
ted Romantic Masterpiece

  (Includes bonus audio CD)

  US $25.95 / CDN $28.95

  Available Now

  www.theoriginalheathergraham.com

  From the independent freedom of the American cattle ranch to the stifling restraint of the prim English parlor, Harmony Simmons loses all she has ever valued after the death of her affluent parents. According to her mother’s will, she must remain under the guardianship of her domineering older sister, Agatha, until she turns twenty-one, a crushing blow to her ambitious spirit. Dowdy Agatha is jealous and spiteful, resentful of her attractive sibling. A restricted existence in England promises hell compared to Harmony’s former privileged life with her successful father in the heavenly expanse of the West.

  When Anthony Allen meets Harmony, he plays the rogue. Kidnapping this beautiful, well-bred angel with the sapphire eyes is a risk he’s willing to take to coax her into his arms forever. His Lady Blue. Never has he seen a woman like her. Never will he adore another. Later, however, he introduces himself as suave aristocrat Lord Farmington, a title she suspects is a sophisticated ruse.

  Baffled by his duplicity, Harmony cannot determine whether her mysterious lover is a cavalier bandit or an honorable hero of the landed gentry. His secret ignites a fear deep inside, where her passion for him burns. What sinister shadows may lurk in his past? Does he love her as he claims … or is he a jewel thief and a criminal predator seeking her inheritance in an elaborate masquerade?

  ISBN# 978-160542063-9

  Mass Market Paperback/Historical Romance

  US $7.95 / CDN $8.95

  Available Now

  www.helenrosburg.com

  At the Lowara Gypsy Camp outside Windsor, England, in 1806, a young woman will lose her independence in a common marriage market transaction. Jade knows she is promised to Dimitri, a possessive abuser. Jade knows he will hurt her. Jade knows her freedom is gone.

  When her father sends her to the arms of another man, she finds only slight consolation … until she encounters her intended. Evan Dark is a half-Gypsy gentleman—nothing like Dimitri. Caught in a battle between tribes, Jade is a piece of property, the ideal runaway bride. In order to escape Dimitri’s clutches, she sails for Charleston with Evan as his indentured servant. But, engaged to another woman as part of a plantation merger in South Carolina, Evan’s affiliation with Jade can never be more than professional.