by Penny Ash
Arriving in the foyer, she skidded to a stop, her stomach hitting the floor. Absolute chaos reigned in the little entrance hall. Suitcases lay scattered around the floor while an elderly lady wailed, clutching her chest and leaning on a wide-eyed Pin’s arm while Tilly waved a threatening batter-covered wooden spoon at Pookie, who growled menacingly around the cat in his mouth.
Emma felt sick. This had to be Miss Crow, the seventy-five-year-old retired first grade teacher who was a regular guest at the Toddle House Bed and Breakfast. The bedraggled, yowling feline just had to be her equally elderly cat, Mr. Dickens. Visions of more lawsuits danced through her head as she advanced on the Puca.
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“Pookie! No! ” Emma grabbed the scruff of the Puca’s neck. She shook him and swatted the back of his head. “Drop it!” she commanded sharply.
Lost in the excitement of chasing the cat, the Puca planted his paws and growled deep in his throat, cutting his eyes up at her. She gasped, looking down into the dark hazel fire of the eyes glaring up at her.
The madness there sent a cold wave of fear through her, chilling her to the bone. Letting go, she slowly backed up a step.
Dropping the cat, the Puca took a step toward his new prey, Emma. Caught up in the excitement of the chase, his eyes gleamed with the feral light of the hunter. The cat, outraged but uninjured, shot into the formal dining room. Pin and the elderly lady followed. Tilly stood frozen to the spot, watching the Puca.
Emma stepped back slowly, then turned and ran for the library door. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it, her heart pounding. The door shook at the impact of a hundred and thirty pounds of angry charcoal-black Irish wolfhound. The deep, threatening growl sent chills of terror through her. A yelp sounded on the other side of the door and she slid down to the floor, huddling in on herself.
Tears streaming down her face and her knees shaking, she jumped when the side door to the library burst open with a loud bang. Kian crossed the room in three great strides, dropping to his knees before her, wrapping his arms tightly around her, gathering her close.
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“Oh, Emma, Emma, Emma, never run from me, for I cannot help but chase,” he said breathlessly. “I’m that sorry, I am.”
She held onto him, laying her head on his shoulder, sighing shakily. His words did not quite register, but the sound of comfort he offered in them did. The new-mown hay scent of his skin soothed her trembling and she unconsciously moved closer, pressing herself against him. He bent his head to nuzzle the crook of her neck. Her breath caught. He licked her, a gesture of apology and a request for forgiveness.
Emma threaded her fingers through his silky black hair, brushing it away from his ear. Her fingertips traced gently around the edge, her eyes widening as she discovered the softly pointed top. She noticed the streak of snow-white hair hidden behind his ear and touched it.
Kian tilted his head into the touch, leaning into her fingers with a low growl of pleasure. She rubbed the crest of his ear slowly, smiling when he shivered, then gently returned his lick. He nudged at the edge of her robe, slipping his hand underneath to her bare skin, and she realized she was completely naked except for the thin, silky robe.
“Lunch is served.” Tilly’s quavery but frostily stern voice interrupted them.
Emma scrambled away from Kian, hastily tugging her robe closed. Blushing a brilliant pink, she hurriedly made for the back of the house and her bedroom. Definitely time to get dressed.
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Kian leaned his head back against the wall and watched her disappear out the side door. When he could no longer hear her, he angrily turned and glared at Tilly, his eyes flashing red fire.
“Tilly, I’m grateful for your bringing me back to my senses, but you’ll be interrupting my pleasures one time too many one day,” he said.
“And it’s a fool you’ll be making of yourself one day, my fine Puca,” Tilly shot back. “I’m sure and she’s still no idea of her lover’s inhuman nature.”
“And you’ll not be telling her any tales if you value your life,” Kian said. He stood and angrily stalked out.
Tilly snorted and popped herself off to her beloved kitchen. She wasn’t afraid of the Puca. Well, at least not when he was exerting some control over himself.
Or not much, anyway, she reasoned.
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Chapter Eight
mma dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans Eand an old pink T-shirt with an airbrushed picture of a Fairy sitting in a field of daisies. She hurried back to the main sitting room to find Pin had settled Miss Crow there with tea and a plate of cookies. She took a deep breath and walked forward, smiling.
“Hi, I’m Emma O’Neil, I’m taking over the house,”
she said, holding her hand out in greeting.
“Pleased to meet you, dear,” Miss Crow said, smiling up at Emma.
“I’m so sorry about this morning; I hope your cat is all right,” Emma said worriedly.
“He’s fine dear, he and Chloe’s dog have always been great friends,” the elderly lady said happily.
“This happens every year?” Emma asked in amazement.
“Oh my, yes, although this is only the second or third time Mr. Dickens has let himself be caught,”
Miss Crow said cheerfully.
Emma sat and chatted with Miss Crow for a while, then took her to her room. She walked back down to the library office and sat down at the computer to do some work. She resisted the urge to go onto the chat line and see if Muffin was there, even though she knew he would laugh at the story of the dog and the 92
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crazy cat.
More guests began to arrive that afternoon. Emma listened to Mrs. Overstreet as they climbed the stairs to the room the retired librarian had booked. The round little old lady was telling her that she required a dish of milk every evening.
“I didn’t know you had brought a cat with you, Mrs. Overstreet,” Emma said pleasantly.
“Oh, my heavens, child, I don’t have a cat, the milk is for Them, and you must call me Julia, Mrs.
Overstreet sounds so formal,” she said.
“Okay, Julia. And who might They be?” Emma was mystified. She was beginning to think that several of the guests were even more eccentric than her Great Aunt Chloe had been.
“Well, of course, They are the Little People, dear, the Fairies that are all around this house. That’s why I come here every spring you know, to see the Fairies,”
Julia confided in a whisper. “I put the dish of milk on the side porch every night before I go to bed and every morning it’s empty.”
“Oh, okay, I’ll be sure and let Tilly or Pin know about the milk. You have a nice day, I need to take care of a few things in the kitchen right now, I’ll see you at dinner,” Emma said.
She hurriedly escaped into the kitchen where Kian sat at the table, a huge grin on his face. He looked up at her as she came in, his eyes sparkling emerald with mischief. “Met the first of the Fairy ladies, have you, love?”
“Don’t you dare make fun of those sweet little old 93
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ladies,” Emma said. She stopped by the table and glared down at him, her hands on her hips.
She looked so enticing he simply could not resist.
Kian stood and pulled her into his arms, covering her mouth with his and cutting off her squeak of surprised protest. He parted her lips and dipped his tongue in to taste her, sliding one hand down her back to mold her to his body.
Emma felt her knees go weak and Kian’s arms tighten in response. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed against his burning heat with a low moan. He lifted her to the kitchen table, urgently shoving dishes out of the way. He began to lay her back, reaching between them to unfasten the silver buckle of his wide black leather belt.
The sharp sound of wood striking wood startled them.
&nbs
p; “Kian Sean Puca!” Pin shouted. She went on at him in that odd singsong language Emma was not able to understand, obviously angry and indignant and not stuttering a bit.
Kian reluctantly backed away from her, and Emma slid off the table. Pin pointed her wooden spoon at them both. “Not in my kitchen!”
The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their last guests for the week. Emma ran to answer it, grateful for the interruption and blushing furiously. She heard Kian reply, going off into gales of laughter and the sound of Pin berating him once more in that strange language as she opened the door.
A family of five stood there, dressed in travel-
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rumpled clothing and looking tired. Emma smiled at them and stood aside to let them in. “Hi, you must be the Bakers,” she said. She mentally reviewed what she knew of the family from their reservations: the daughter had just turned eighteen, and the twin boys were sports-mad thirteen-year-olds.
Emma saw the girl’s eyes widen and grow dark with teenage lust. A faint scent of new-mown hay tickled her nose, and she knew Kian had walked up behind her even before she felt the light electric touch at the small of her back. “This is Kian, but you probably already know that. He’ll help bring in your luggage while I show you to your rooms,” Emma said, smiling. She glanced at the girl again and felt a pang of worry. She had a bad feeling about the obviously love-struck teenager.
A few minutes later, the Baker family was settled into their rooms to rest before dinner.
Emma walked back down the stairs toward the library. She needed a break. She sat down at her computer and logged on to the chat room. After a brief round of hellos, she sat back and watched the conversation. She hoped to see Muffin. The name popped up on her screen, and she smiled.
*PoohLady cuddles wildly with Muffin*, she typed in.
*Muffin kisses PoohLady on all her pink bits*, the response came back quickly.
PoohLady: Hi, sugar.
Muffin: Hello, poppet.
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Emma read the line, her eyes going wide, and thought carefully about her response. He had never called her that before; the only one who had ever called her poppet was Kian.
PoohLady: Poppet?
*Muffin invites PoohLady to start a new life with him deep in the forest*
Emma laughed and hugged herself. She knew who Muffin was, and that knowledge warmed her and sent shivers down her spine. They spoke a while longer, and she finally signed off.
PoohLady: Night, sugar, I’ll see you in my dreams.
* * * * * *
Kian smiled at PoohLady’s last statement and leaned back in his chair. Ah, girl, you’ve no idea, he thought smugly, no idea at all. He turned off his computer and walked to the window. The night was fine and the moon was full, the perfect setting for a bit of enchantment. Opening the window, he launched himself into the sky soaring high in his bird form.
* * * * * *
Lissie waited until the house was quiet and crept from her room. She had waited for this moment nearly half a year, since her eighteenth birthday.
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Tonight she would go to Kian’s room in the attic.
Tonight she would show him she was as much of a woman as the blonde she’d seen him with last year.
And she would show him she offered more than that fat Emma, who ran the bed and breakfast now.
She tiptoed up the attic stairs. The light spilling out from under his door told her he was still awake. It would not have mattered; if the room was dark, she was going in anyway. She stopped at Kian’s door and fluffed her hair. Turning the doorknob, she eased the door open and stepped inside. Kian was nowhere to be seen. She went to the window and looked out, furious. A noise caught her attention and she saw movement near the holly hedge by the back porch.
Kian walked up the steps and she ran out to try and catch him.
Lissie hurriedly crept down the stairs and stopped.
The library door opened, and Lissie tried to melt into the shadows when Emma came out. She narrowed her eyes, watching Emma turn and start down the hall.
Suddenly Kian stepped out from behind the potted ivy that stood at the foot of the stairs. Lissie watched him walk slowly behind Emma and call out to her.
Tears of jealousy and rage stung Lissie’s eyes. The clock in the foyer chimed softly, striking midnight.
* * * * * *
Sure there was no one to see him; Kian stalked Emma down the hall. “Emma, my love,” he whispered 97
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darkly, just loud enough for her to hear him. She turned at the sound and her beautiful soft brown eyes went wide. He smiled, a predatory showing of sharp teeth, and chuckled evilly. His eyes glowed with a reddish light.
Emma backed up until she was stopped by her closed bedroom door. He could hear her heart beat like it was going to pound right out of her chest. She clutched the collar of her sweater, and her dark eyes were filled with terror. A tingling wave of lust uncurled through his body as he stepped slowly toward her until he was mere inches from her. He slipped the fingers of one hand into her honey-gold hair and unloosed the combs holding it up.
“Ah, my Emma,” he whispered softly. He wound the silky strands of her hair around his hand and pulled her head back, raising her face to look into her chocolate-brown eyes. Reaching up with his free hand, he traced his fingertips over her face, her eyebrows, her nose and finally her slightly parted lips.
“You belong with me, poppet, me and none other,”
he said, his voice low and thick with lust. He trailed his hand down her throat to her collarbone and lowered his lips to hers, brushing them with a butterfly kiss. Her breath caught, and he could feel her body trembling.
He paused for one heartbeat, then another. “Oh, aye, all mine.” He lowered his mouth to hers once more in a deep kiss, slowly and insistently pushing her lips apart further. Tasting the sweetness of her 98
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innocence and the sharp tang of her desire, twining his tongue with hers and allowing the smoky flavor of her humanness intoxicate his senses. He raised his head and looked at her flushed face, the dark sweep of her long lashes against her cheek.
“And I, my love, am only yours,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
He sighed and smiled openmouthed, watching his hand as he took her hand from her chest and placed it on his waist. Raising his hand, he moved the fabric of her lacy sweater, sliding it off her shoulder to reveal the thin amethyst silk of the dress underneath.
Brushing his hand over the softness of her breast, he cupped it gently, pulling the material taut. He licked his lips and lowered his head, taking the hardened nipple in his lips, gently tugging at it.
Emma’s quiet moan set his blood on fire. He chuckled softly and released her nipple to strip the sweater away and throw it to the floor. Kian gathered the dress into his hands, covering her mouth with his in an urgent kiss and sliding his hands under her dress. Her skin was soft as velvet and he groaned softly, pushing his hands into her underwear before wishing the silk and lace panties away.
He reluctantly pulled one hand away from her heat to ready himself. Pushing into her, he moaned and braced himself against her and the door. “Ahh, my treasure,” he gasped; she felt so solid and real it brought tears to his eyes.
He moved, hard and erratic, barely able to control himself. The feeling of her arms around him made 99
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him cry, the silent, hot tears streaming down his face.
He tightened his hold on her, feeling the first wave of her release, opening his mouth in a silent cry as his head fell back and his knees began to buckle. She moaned his name, and he shattered.
When it was over he sank to his knees, sliding down her body with a deep, shuddering gasp. He squeezed his eyes closed, resting his head against her belly, then turning and burying his face in the sweat-damp softness of her dress, muffling the moaning wail that tore fro
m his throat. He wanted so much to be human, wanted it not for himself any longer but for her, to make her happy.
Lissie gazed malevolently at the lovers. It should be her Kian was kissing, her moaning under his touch. She clenched her teeth together so hard they hurt as she watched Emma comforting Kian from her hiding place on the stairs. She waited until they went into Emma’s room, then stole down and picked up Emma’s discarded sweater before disappearing toward the back of the house.
* * * * * *
Kian shut the door behind him and watched as Emma crossed the room to look out the window. Slowly he started toward her, unsure just what to say. He stopped when she turned and looked at him.
“Emma,” he began hesitantly, unsure of just how to say what needed to be said. “I,” he tried again, only 100
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to stop and lick his lips, blinking back tears as he raised his head to look toward the ceiling.
Emma silently stepped toward Kian, reaching out and wrapping her arms around him pulling him into a warm and comforting hug. She felt him shudder as he laid his head on her shoulder and tightened her embrace.
“It’s all right,” she whispered softly. She stroked his hair and just held him.