by Ruby Duvall
He shook his head, petting her hair again and wiping at the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs. “When I found that knot on the side of yer face…” The back of his fingers stroked her left temple. “And all those bruises. The one across yer stomach and…the ones on yer thighs.” His voice broke on the last and Emma knew what he suspected. She set her fingers over his lips, shushing him.
“It didn’t happen,” she whispered. Iain’s eyes shut tightly. “And I would never leave you. I love you. I want to be your wife.”
He made an abrupt sound of relief and took her mouth in a kiss. It was passionate and desperate, tender and romantic, everything she needed to know how right a choice she had made.
“I love ye,” he moaned between kisses. “I love ye. I love ye.” His hands pushed up the hem of her skirt, slipping underneath. He gently but eagerly stroked her thighs, like he had to touch her, his desires both in check and yet unrestrained. She knew then what she needed. What they both needed.
She leaned back, pulling Iain over her. He followed her down with no protest. In only a few seconds, he had tugged his tunic out of the way and was inside her. His scent was so familiar—peat smoke and fennel-scented soap. The ground was damp and cold but he was warm and she didn’t care about grass stains or even getting caught.
The things he whispered. Questions that she could only nod to, soft exclamations that made her heart pound. His voice made her melt. His shuddering breaths matched the smooth pumping of his hips. She could see nothing but him. Feel, taste, smell, and think of nothing but him. The strain in his words when he was close, the fascination in his eyes when he watched her climax and the ecstasy on his face when she watched him.
“Emma,” he sighed. His body slumped over her, his lungs working overtime and his warm breaths puffing over her shoulder.
“Stay with me, Iain,” she whispered, petting his back. He grunted but didn’t move for another moment. His cock was still twitching inside her. When he eventually leaned up on his elbows, she smiled at the satisfaction on his face.
“I will,” he said.
She tilted her head to one side. “You will?”
“I’ll stay with you.” He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I’ll be with you always. Forever,” he emphasized.
The words she wanted to say were a balled up in her throat and she couldn’t speak. Instead, she pulled him closer, shut her eyes, and waited.
He kissed her.
When they returned to the house—Iain carrying her the entire way—they found Aili sitting inside. The woman was mysteriously unsurprised but overjoyed by the outcome and the rest of the day was spent celebrating with her and everyone else. Word of her recovery also spread to the laird and Archibald himself came out to the croft with Colin and a large escort to express his relief—and his shock at her miraculous recuperation.
The constable James had been along, of course and had been curious as to whether she knew how the MacGregors had known that Colin was at the croft the day before yesterday. Emma could guess that Colin’s presence had been an unlucky coincidence—that Rossalyn had sicced Craig and his men on her with the promise of catching a fairy and trading her for their captured clansman. She couldn’t tell the constable any of this though. It would be like signing the woman’s death warrant and Emma wouldn’t have been able to live with herself.
—
Rossalyn wondered how long it might be until she was missed. A couple of hours? Surely someone would stop by and wonder why she wasn’t there. For the first time, she hoped no one did. She hoped she might have a full day before anyone worried about her. It might be enough time.
She stopped by an obliging tree, her body aching from the weight of the bag on her back and leaned against the trunk to catch her breath after climbing up past a dangerous set of falls.
Or were they looking for her even now? Was the constable coming after her? Tears welled up at the thought of what they would do to her. Surely the fairy wasn’t going to stay silent about what she had done. Craig would’ve told the woman just who had betrayed her. How had she gotten herself into this mess? Why hadn’t she realized what consequences awaited her?
It wasn’t her fault. If anyone was to blame, the fairy was at fault. If she had never appeared, Rossalyn wouldn’t be running from the only home she had ever known.
Pulling the heavy bag off her back, she set it on the ground and approached the river to relieve her thirst. Then she would have to keep going.
She stepped onto a rock to kneel down and reach for the fresh water. Her foot slipped and she went down. Pain exploded in her head. The world dimmed. Shimmered. She hadn’t stopped moving though. Her body was sliding down.
Water splashed against her ankles just before she fell off the riverside boulder. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. More pain burst inside her shoulder, then her back. Her leg throbbed as she was thrown against another rock.
She knew she was dead but perhaps it was better this way. She wouldn’t have to face the laird or her friends. Wouldn’t have to suffer their punishment.
Aye, it was better this way.
Epilogue
Jason Campbell sat in his favorite chair—the leg rest up—and was sleeping peacefully with a healthy baby girl on his chest. He had a towel draped over his shoulder and a half-empty bottle of milk in his left hand. His right hand rested on his daughter’s back.
Danielle, his wife, watched the scene with tears in her eyes, both pleased and saddened. Pleased that her husband was finally sleeping and saddened to recall another time when he had held his first daughter just the same way.
As quietly as she could, she sat in the easy chair next to him, glancing briefly at the program on the television.
“The Great Vowel Shift that took place sometime between the thirteenth and seventeenth centuries and brought us the pronunciation of Modern English—and indeed the frustration of English spelling—is still somewhat of a mystery for many linguists and is the focus of tonight’s program…”
Some sort of history show. She stroked her fingers across the book on her lap, somehow needing to look at it again even though it was still painful to remember.
Emma had always loved her encyclopedia on magical creatures. Her grandmother had given it to her after a trip to Great Britain. Danielle had memorized the entire book because she read it to Emma at least a hundred times when Emma was a little girl. Entries on unicorns, mermaids and leprechauns filled its pages—even entries for stranger and lesser known creatures such as kappa from Japan and kobolds from Germany.
A lump was already firmly lodged in the back of her throat when she opened the worn, well-loved book. After only a moment, she was hurriedly thumbing through the pages. She had to look through the entire book or else the whole exercise had been a waste.
Just when she thought she’d have to give up and slam the book shut, her misty eyes caught something and she stopped. Flipping back a couple of pages, she spread open the page on Scottish creatures—or rather, two pages. She could have sworn the book had only dedicated one page to the rich mythology of Scotland but more than that, the second page contained a drawing she had never seen before.
She skimmed the entry on the new creature and then had to read it again.
“Jason?” she whispered. Her husband made a soft noise. “Jason?” she said louder.
“Is the baby crying?” he mumbled.
“No, honey, she’s not. Wake up and look at this.” She lifted the book and set it on the arm of her chair. “Wake up, Jason.” She shook his arm and he tightened his hold on the baby as his eyes opened. He glanced at the book and then winced, averting his eyes with a frown.
“Not now, sweetheart. I can’t look at that now,” he said, shaking his head.
“You know this book as well as me. Tell me you’ve seen this page before,” she challenged. His interest piqued, Jason turned his head and looked at the page his wife was pointing at. His eyebrows slanted down but his mouth fell ope
n.
“It’s…” he breathed. “Sweetheart, did you do this? How could—”
“I didn’t!” she insisted. “I wouldn’t do this. How in the world could I do this? It’s not like I can rebind a book. Read the entry.”
She couldn’t wait for him to read it to himself and began to read aloud. ‘“Scottish fairies are known by many names, such as the good folk or the people of the mounds. In Scotland, they are a race of people driven into hiding by humans, living in mounds and only appearing to create mischief. Many different and sometimes conflicting stories still circulate today. One famous story in the southern Highlands related to the fairy legend of The Glaistig speaks of a girl who appeared to the local clan and became a strong ally to the laird and his family by protecting their cattle and children. The fairy eventually married into the clan. She had a green dress, cloven feet, hair the color of a baby’s lips—though some versions of the story say she had blonde hair—and flew with large wings. See picture to right.’”
The rest of the entry was irrelevant but as Jason and Danielle studied the picture of the Scottish fairy, they couldn’t help but see their daughter, just as she was the night she was killed by a drunk driver.
“You’ve seen this page before, right? I haven’t read this book in a long time,” she asked. Pulling her eyes from the drawing, she looked up at her husband.
“I-I don’t remember it but…she had to have—she must have worn that costume because of this book. It’s just a coincidence,” he said, shaking his head but still looking at the illustration.
“Jason,” she pleaded. “It was me who suggested she wear green. She wanted to wear pink to match her hair.”
Her husband’s eyes slowly rose and they both stared at each other for a long few seconds. They then both looked down at the book again.
“It has to be a coincidence,” Jason whispered.
“Oh Emma.” Danielle pressed her fingers to her lips. It sounded crazy but she could feel that it was true. “Oh thank God,” she whispered.
—
Iain stood at the door of his home, waiting for his wife to return from the river. Content to no longer be a stag, he watched with a smile on his face as Emma laughed at Puck, who was dancing around her skirts. She cooed at the dog, continuing to walk and drying her hands on her apron. Iain walked out to meet her some distance from the house. He managed to steal a kiss from her but she leaned down away from him to scratch behind the dog’s ear. Puck panted with delight.
The dog wasn’t calm for long though. He hopped up and down, whining for more attention when Emma stood straight, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress and over the bump in her stomach.
“He canna get enough, can he?” Iain noted with a chuckle.
Emma smiled coyly at him. “Just like someone else I know.” Growling at her comment, Iain couldn’t resist and pulled her face close with one hand on the back of her head, laying a kiss on her.
She pulled away a moment later. “Did I see Rachel just now?”
“Aye, she stopped by to ask after Kenneth,” he said, nodding in the direction of the redhead’s house. “Her basket was full of his favorite meat pies.” No sooner had Iain finished his sentence than a woman suddenly burst out of Kenneth’s home.
Emma gasped. Rachel, still holding her basket, turned around to yell something at Kenneth, who had followed her outside. Iain was too far away to hear anything being said but when Rachel dumped the contents of her basket on the ground and then threw the basket at Kenneth’s head, all the time waving her hands wildly, it wasn’t difficult to guess what they were arguing about.
Rachel shifted between wiping at her cheeks and pointing at Kenneth, who silently watched her with something akin to shock on his face. Iain’s eyebrows went up as Rachel even jumped up and down.
The brunette then turned around, not bothering to fetch her basket and began walking away. Kenneth ran after her. He touched her arm but she threw his hand off and slapped him before turning away again.
Frowning this time, Kenneth grabbed her elbow none too gently. Iain heard Emma gasp again as Kenneth forced Rachel into his arms and kissed her.
“Oh wow,” Emma breathed. Rachel jerked as though trying to wiggle her way free but Kenneth fisted his hands in her dress and the second Rachel stopped resisting was obvious even from such a distance. Kenneth then lifted her into his arms and walked back to his house. They vanished inside and the door slammed shut.
Iain and Emma were quiet for a few seconds, neither one moving.
“Beth is visiting Colin, right?” she asked. Iain nodded, still mute with surprise. Emma laughed. “I suppose we’re not going to get the stew Kenneth was making. What’ll we eat for supper?”
Iain turned to look at her, not bothering to hide his lecherous smile. “I know what I’m eating for supper.” His smile only grew wider when her cheeks flushed.
“But what will I eat?” she teased back.
“Ye willna be thinking about food,” he promised. Emma walked around him and toward the croft.
“But Aili’s still inside.” She backed away from him.
“Ah but she isna there now,” Iain said with a grin. Emma’s jaw dropped with surprise and she stopped. He continued forward. “I told her to get out of my house and she left even before Rachel was here. Ye were the one idling at the river.”
“But who will be making dinner if you and I are—you know…”
Iain caught her about the waist, pulling her closer. “Aye, I know ye’re eating for the wee one as well. Aili wouldna let me chase her off unless I promised to let her bring food for ye, so we only have an hour.”
He gazed at his wife’s blushing cheeks and wanted to nibble her. “O-only one?”
“Aye,” he answered, “only one today.” Then, taking from his friend’s example, he lifted Emma into his arms, carried her into the house and shut the door behind him.
About the Author
Ruby Duvall is an avid reader of many romance and erotica genres, but her favorites are fantasy and paranormal. She also enjoys movies, RPGs and maybe a little shopping too. She currently lives in Washington.
Ruby welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Ruby Duvall
Blues
Caught in the Devil’s Hand
Oblivion
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