Irish Moon

by Amber Scott

  Ashlon groaned and stilled her head. "Your touch is too sweet. You'll unman me," he whispered.

  He brought her upward and took her lips in a penetrating kiss. There, she tasted her juices on him and it shook her. Suddenly, she thought she would surely perish without feeling him inside of her. Silken and strong. Proving to her how alive she was, how magickal he made her feel.

  “Please,” she whimpered, pulled at him.

  Ashlon groaned. His arms held his weight steady and as he kissed her neck, he entered her. As he filled her body, he filled the void and in slow circles and thrusts, he rebuilt her need higher and wider than before. Breanne met each stroke, demanding more, raking her nails into his skin. He answered fiercely, nipping her neck. He bent and took a nipple into his mouth. She gasped at the new level of pleasure yet wanted more. Then, with a deft roll, Ashlon pivoted their bodies so that she rode him.

  Breanne paused at the turn then saw the daring in his gaze. She took the challenge and was happy for it once she felt the change in her pleasure. What was deep and resounding became like a caress. Slowly at first and ultimately with abandon, she rocked up and down his hard length, inspired by the slick feel of her body in the position of power until she screamed out his name and sweetness took her under.

  She heard her name on his lips, as well, as her body clenched and climax spread in waves through her. His prick slid blessedly in and out with each grip around his flesh. Then she felt him pour into her, his strokes falling still as his body reached her depths. Ashlon hugged her close, rolled her back over then dropped his weight onto her.

  Breanne let her mind and body linger in that perfect moment while her breathing returned to normal. She didn’t mind his weight despite it straining her chest.

  When she opened her eyes, a bright day was blooming above them. It was the first sunny day she could remember in a very long time.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  “Isn’t it strangely true, Rose, take care in what you wish, for it may come true,” Breanne said as she watched Rose twine flowers into her hair.

  Rose sent Breanne’s reflection in the mirror an all too knowing smile. “Are you going to be complaining of this for the rest of your days then, Bree? Am I going to be old and gray listening to you tell my grandchildren of how you one day long, long ago had gloriously curly hair and wished it away straight?”

  Breanne laughed, causing a painful tug on her head. “Ouch. Be careful, Rose or you’ll have me bloodied.”

  Rose clucked her tongue. Breanne hadn’t meant her hair, smooth as a pond’s surface on a warm summer day ever since she’d rid the earth of Finn and his curse. Breanne didn’t miss the curls she’d often complained about in her life. But, she had been referring to her girlhood feelings for Quinlan, to how inaccurate they had turned out to be.

  She and Rose had not yet managed to speak of the wrong Breanne did him, though clearly there was no grudge from his sister. Worse, she and Quinlan had not spoken at all since she had left his side during her mother’s wedding feast. It was the single gray cloud on her otherwise happy day.

  She was about to wed the one true love of her life. So, long as he returned this morn as planned, from his final leg of journey in hiding the stone.

  “I did not mean my hair, Rose.”

  “Aye, I know it. But, I’m not the person to be offering advise on that which you did mean. He is my brother and you are nearly my sister and I cannot choose between. All I can say to you is what I said to him, time will heal the wound well enough.”

  Breanne’s chest panged. She hoped so. She missed him and knew Ashlon must, as well. In the short time since Ashlon had come to them, Quinlan had acted as a friend, a guide, a confidant. In many ways, he had represented the whole clan. It was a shame that Quinlan would not be there today to bless Ashlon’s official join to it.

  In a few hours, when Ashlon safely returned with Ramsey from the north, he would wed her. And of all things, he would do so by choice. Niall had declared Ashlon would have no choice once he was found, but when she and Ashlon had returned to the keep that morning hand in hand, he’d not taken him in chains as promised before.

  Niall in fact had clasped Ashlon’s arm in welcome and taken him straight away to speak privately. Breanne had chewed her nails in worry and fatigue, feeling certain something might go wrong after their close won victory.

  The worry grew to anxiety when Shane MacSweeney brought Quinlan in to join the private discussion. Obviously, her future and recent scandalous behavior was the topic burning ears behind closed doors. But the few persons up and about were thankfully too worn from the evening’s festivities and near disaster to raise a brow in her direction.

  Shane didn’t even glance her way when she time and again paused near the door, stared at it as though the wood’s grain might hold answers, then stalked away. Not even a chuckle.

  When the door opened and Niall’s booming voice carried notes of humor to her ears, she breathed easy. And Ashlon’s face told her all she needed to know, so much so that she took the coward’s road and didn’t face Quinlan or look at his expression when he left the room and keep thereafter.

  Ashlon did not disarm her with a smile or rush to her side in glee. He appeared neither puffed nor awkward, as she’d seen many a suitor over the years look after a similar conversation with Niall O’Donnell. In fact, he did not even speak to her, just nodded and walked away.

  It was in the way he walked. There was an unmistakable lightness in his step, an easiness in his carriage. Relief surged through her as she watched his back and had any doubt remained, Niall soon quashed it when he called her in to tell her the decision.

  “He has given me his word and, hard pressed as you might think me to take him at it when he left afore as he did, I will trust him to return,” Niall had said once the door closed. “Quinlan has taken the news as well as can be expected considering the whole of it. He is young. He will recover.”

  Breanne did not know what to say to him. The reproach she half anticipated had not come. Niall seemed in truth rather unsurprised and if she did not know better, she might think him gloating. But, that would not make sense at all. Why would he force a betrothal with Quinlan if he knew it would not see fruition?

  “Ashlon will return in no more than six days time and will marry you. By Beltane, you will be a wife and living in your own home, running your own household,” Niall said.

  For the first time, her belly didn’t clutch at the idea in fear or panic. Her own home. Her own household. She hadn’t the first inclination for either until now. Now, both seemed a boon.

  She also held not a pinch of concern over whether he would come back to her or not. With Finn’s demise, the weight of her presage that had carried like an extra bone in her body, was gone.

  Ashlon would see his quest’s end, may have already, and would become her husband by the moonrise. Ula had seen to all the preparations, including the small keep that Breanne had not set foot in since her father’s death.

  Breanne had decided never to let slip nor verify the secret that Finn had exposed. She would not ask her mother and not tell Danny. She would not even allow herself to ponder. She loved Danny as a brother, always had, and knowing he might in truth be hers made little difference.

  She held a new respect for her mother. Breanne realized that through the years of war and peace, of joy and death, Ula had been strength itself and managed serenity to boot. There was no better queen to Niall.

  It would be propitious to return to it as a wife, her mother had promised her. And one day soon, as a mother herself. Ula had spent many happy years there as both and the stone walls missed the cheer that a family would bring.

  “None of that now, Bree,” Rose said. “You’ll end up washing away the berry stain and I got it just the right color.”

  Breanne came back to the present and blinked back the tears Rose scolded her for.

  “I’m sorry, Rose. I just canno’ believe how happy I am to have been so very wrong abo
ut what I thought I wanted.”

  “I know it.” Rose smiled and patted her shoulder. “I’m glad for it, as well.”

  * * * *

  They’d offered him the black and the steed had proved worth his weight in gold. With only a handful of hours rest, the black had carried him, albeit at a more leisurely pace, back up the same road. Ramsey had arrived just in time to join him, his head well and not a sign of lingering effects from his injury.

  Ashlon was happy to have the help and company. Strangely, the anxiety and pressure that he’d grown so accustomed to feeling regarding Jacques’s petition had left him. In its place was hope, large and free and glorious.

  They arrived at the Giant’s causeway on the tail of a downpour and ceremoniously laid the chest into its intended tomb among the round stilts of rock. Ramsey spoke reverently of their act, making Ashlon finally understand why Jacques had chosen him to follow this journey.

  “Life is bigger than you and I, my friend,” Ramsey had said so softly that the wind almost hushed it. “It is bigger than the whole lot of us, wherever we roam or call a home, home.”

  Ashlon had been struck not just by the words but by the way they made Ramsey appear. The man’s face was not lit with warmth, his eyes did not dance with joy. He looked almost sad.

  “In a hundred generations, another man will find this treasure and try to harness its goodness and power. We are a part of the tapestry of those generations. What we choose today, colors the picture of that tomorrow.” Ramsey stared at the sea, stretched out past the bridge rock myth determined a giant had once created to reach love.

  Suddenly, his Grand Master’s final words to him took on new meaning. “Be brave of heart and soft of soul and love will bring you home,” Jacques had said, so fiercely that Ashlon had hid his derision. The words had seemed so trite at the time, and later simply sad mumblings of a man who saw death coming to his door.

  Now, though, he saw their truth. Jacques chose him, not only that day, but long before then. Ashlon had been chosen and prepared for this journey from the first and only now could he see his life’s events as part of a whole. It was as though he glimpsed destiny’s face for a brief wonderful moment of clarity.

  Ramsey half chuckled, his eyes looking faraway. “Well, then, Ashlon. This ones good and buried then.” He kicked the rocky tomb with his boot. “What say you we leave before my arse falls off frozen?”

  “Aye.” Ashlon laughed. “Damned chilly for near summer, isn’t it?”

  “Ah, but that is another wonderful trait of Ireland, Ashlon. All year round, you’ll enjoy springlike weather that is wonderfully mild.” They mounted and heeled their horses to a trot. “Of course, the summers are lush and full of bloom, yet the winter won’t freeze you bones either.”

  Ashlon half listened to the ongoing litany of benefits Ireland weather wrought as they rode faster, got closer to what he now thought of as home. His heart beat in rhythm with the black’s hooves as the past’s obligations and horrors melted away.

  The sun broke through the clouds as he saw familiar hills and peaks rise in front of them. Even from the distance he was at, he could see activity in Breanne’s keep’s courtyard. What would soon be his yard. The realization sent a new trill of hope through him.

  Ramsey had been visibly taken aback when Ashlon had sought reassurance that the clan would not see him as an interloper on Breanne’s fortune and lands. His friend had soundly rebuked him for ‘the ludicrous idea’, but nevertheless, Ashlon meant to repay Breanne in the only way he knew how.

  He vowed to God and man that he would protect her and hers with his life. He promised to make her holdings a profitable endeavor of which any wife could be proud. Her father’s legacy, her legacy, deserved no less.

  As they rode to the O’Donnell keep’s stables, they were greeted and welcomed by any who saw them. Groups walked to the keep, already merry at the day’s coming celebration.

  Ashlon handed over the reins of the black. In his distraction he didn’t even hear Ramsey call for him to wait and didn’t. He was home. And his body was reacting to that reality with the least appropriate response possible. He felt lusty.

  The few days had seemed thrice as long and his body sensed that what it craved was nearing. But, it would have to wait a bit longer because as soon as he entered the keep, he was overwrought with well-wishers and his bride’s mother.

  Ula O’Donnell had three maids in tow and ushered Ashlon directly to a private chamber where a bath waited, for hot water and food sat ready for his consumption. Before he could properly thank her, she was gone.

  He ate quickly, glad that things seemed rushed and cared not as to why. Buckets were brought, the tub filled and as he moved to undress, a soft knock sounded on the door. Ashlon hoped it was not yet another maid insisting he need help in his bath and dress. From the first day he’d arrived, he’d seen just how helpful some of the staff tried to be and he was loath to make another one cry over rejection.

  But, it was not a young girl at the door. It was Danny. Ashlon had forgotten their arrangement, made during his quick departure, in all the bustle. He bade the boy enter and offered him a good strong handshake.

  “Were you able to secure what we discussed, Master Daniel?”

  Danny beamed. His shoulders squared further. “Aye, Sir Ashlon. I have brought it to you.”

  Danny produced a small but roomy satchel and laid it on the narrow table near the door. Ashlon decided a lukewarm bath was as good as any. This procurement was not one to be rushed through. Though the boy looked well, Ashlon knew he might feel a good deal of guilt for his part in Finn’s plan. If none or any had talked to him of it yet, it didn’t show. There was a solemnity in Danny’s manner that had not been there a week ago.

  Gingerly, Danny reached into the bag and pulled out the gift Ashlon meant to give his wife that night. Danny had had a terrible time keeping the litter of kittens a secret and Ashlon was now grateful for it. The small black bundle blinked from her cower in Danny’s hands. Her eyes were the color of daffodils and her petite mewl made him grin.

  “You’ve done well, Master Daniel.” Ashlon clapped his shoulder. “Now, I have another task, if you are willing and able.”

  Danny cupped the kitten with his hands and held it protectively close. “What’s that, Sir Ashlon?”

  “I’m hoping to surprise Breanne with this gift after we wed. But, I’m in a bit of a shortage on time. Might you be able to escort this gift to Breanne O’Donnell’s keep? I have been assured by her mother that all is ready there. This kitten will be the final touch.”

  Ashlon wanted to tell Danny the fire was not his fault, that Finn’s deception could have been successful on any. But, he did not have the words to broach the issue and so did the best he could conjure. He gave the boy responsibility, knowing firsthand the improvements it would make over the course of his growth into a man.

  “I will see her there straight away, Ashlon.” Danny nodded and set his brow determinedly. “You can count on me.”

  “Aye, I knew I could.”

  Epilogue

  “Think you all wedding days pass in such a blur?” Breanne asked. She adjusted her head on Ashlon’s chest to better hear his heartbeat. Sweat from their second wedding night lovemaking still gleamed over his sculpted torso.

  She seemed unable to get enough of him. She could drink him into her were she able and still thirst despite repletion.

  Ashlon stroked her arm, not answering right away. “I believe so. Leastwise, every one of mine has been.”

  Breanne poked him. He flinched and chuckled. He’d been more’n a bit of a tease since they had spoken their vows in front of what seemed like the entire clan. She had even glimpsed Quinlan in the crowd and that gave her hope that she would one day again call him her friend.

  “I feel as though it floated by me from the moment Erlene burst in to tell me you’d returned to the parade walking us over. I hardly recall telling you ‘I will’.”

  Ashlon’s arms s
queezed her closer. He kissed the top of her head. A dozen candles’ flames danced in the window’s breeze. The male scent of him enveloped her mind as she breathed it in.

  “I have a bit of a gift for you, Breanne,” Ashlon said, his voice thick.

  Breanne sat up so she might see his face. Her heart thrummed with love.

  “You’ve no need to gift me, Ashlon. Returning to me today is boon enough to last me all my days.”

  Ashlon smiled, stroked a tendril away from her face.

  “It is a wedding gift to us. Niall visited me before the ceremony.”

  Breanne’s brow gathered. She wasn’t certain she liked the sound of this.

  “He came to tell me news of Heremon’s last wishes. In his final search, Niall found a letter.” Ashlon paused, a smile quirking his mouth.

  “He enjoyed such things, it appears.”

  Ashlon chuckled. “Aye. But, this one named me as his heir.”

  “What? Heir? I do not understand. He found you near death the very day Finn killed him.”

  “I offered the same point to Niall. It appears my destiny was decided much farther back than I realized. Heremon and Jacques saw their fate and, together, gambled yours and mine in hopes of saving the stone.”

  Breanne’s brow gathered into a tight scowl. “I don’t understand.” Yet, somehow, she did. Ashlon was meant for her and she for him. They were meant to face this path. “If Niall knew you were named as Heremon’s heir, if he knew of Jacques—.”

  “He knew only that Heremon left me a letter.” Ashlon took her hand. “The letter explains the plotting our mentors made for our futures.”

  “But, he did not give it to you until today?” Breanne couldn’t shake her suspicion. Her king, her stepfather, had handled Heremon's murder so strangely, as though it weren't one at all. "Why delay such a boon? Such secrecy is not like him."

  “He’s had a lot on his mind,” Ashlon said softly.