Smoke in Moonlight (CELTIC ELEMENTALS)

by Heather R. Blair

  "I can take care of it, mate. I'll make it quick. She wouldn't even..." Aidan's soft words died off as Ronan lunged to his feet. His face was curled in a snarl.

  "No!"

  His shout died abruptly to a whisper. "No, she's mine. I'll do it." He walked into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him. Aidan stared at the closed door for a long time before he lay back on the bed, tucking his arms under his head and looking up at the ceiling.

  "Poor sop." He muttered to himself. "He's friggin' in love with her." Aidan knew he should stay awake and make sure Ronan didn't do anything rash, but the exhaustion of three nights hard travel and having only one quick drink that whole way plus forcing himself to remain upright an full hour after the sun's rising finally beat him down into sleep.

  He didn't stir when Ronan tucked the covers over him tightly and slipped out of the cottage. Aidan O'Neill always sleep like the dead.

  Lacey had been roped into kitchen duty when Moiré saw her. She hadn't asked why Lacey was up and thankfully Lacey had had a chance to change into more fitting clothing by the time Ronan's mother saw her sitting at the table. Her green sweater and a pair of jeans, but she held Ronan’s shirt for long moments before tucking it under her pillow.

  A foreboding feeling had stole over her.

  Lacey would have blamed it on exhaustion, but she didn't feel tired in the least. Keyed up and wary of alerting Moiré to what was going on between her and Ronan, Lacey cracked eggs into the frying pan and made toast and set the dining room table. Keeping busy and trying not to think. Especially about Ronan.

  Through it all Moiré chatted in her usual cheerful way. Though if Lacey had been paying more attention she might have caught the mingled worry and triumph that flickered through the older woman's eyes as they worked. It was only when everyone else had sat down at the table and Daire asked where Ronan was that Lacey blew it.

  "I don't think he'll be up this morning." She mumbled, without thinking.

  Michael stopped with his forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth, before Shelagh nudged him with her elbow. But young Chloe, of course, would not be deterred.

  "How would ye know that?" She demanded.

  Lacey knew her cheeks were on fire, but she couldn't think of a word to say.

  Daire was pointedly and politely not looking at her. Shelagh and Michael were exchanging a smile.

  Moiré stepped to the rescue. "He must have come up earlier and talked to Lacey before I got up. Right, lass?"

  Lacey had to accept the knowledge that every adult at this table knew exactly what had occurred between her and Ronan last night. She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. "Um, yes. It seems he has a visitor."

  Daire's head swiveled toward her, his expression perplexed, as was everyone else's. "Come again?"

  All semblance of eating had halted, even the twins were staring at her. "Someone named Aidan..." Lacey hadn't thought about it, but now she realized they must know of Ronan's vampire friend. She only had a second to wonder how they'd react.

  "Uncle Aidan!" shouted all the children, almost before she finished. Which was interesting.

  But not as interesting as the other reactions she saw.

  Michael frowned down at his plate. Shelagh bit her lip, barely repressing a shudder. Moiré looked simultaneously shocked and a bit pleased, but then she turned almost immediately to look down the table at Daire. Lacey followed her gaze and was thunder stuck.

  Daire was white to the lips, the expression on his sweet handsome face murderous. He threw his napkin on his untouched plate and walked out of the room without a word.

  "Should I go after him, do ye think?” Michael asked quietly through the celebratory yells of the children. Moiré sighed and rubbed her head.

  “Nae, leave him be. He'll be needing his space at the mo'." She then looked at Lacey's questioning face sadly. "I'm sorry, lass, but I canna tell ye what vexes Daire. His secret is his own and he's kept it close for a long, long time. Even Ronan..."

  Moiré shook her head and said no more.

  Lacey wondered what could be between that slick vampire and Daire that Ronan was unaware of. Whatever it was, it was bad. Very bad. She shivered and forced herself to eat her cold eggs. It was definitely not looking to be a good day.

  It got a lot worse when she and Moiré were cleaning up, Michael had taken the children out and Shelagh was off to an appointment in Limerick, at the gallery she had there. Daire and Ronan both were still absent, so it was just the two of them. Lacey was going through everything she had heard while listening to Ronan and Aidan last night. Again. One curious thing she hadn't understood kept sticking in her head.

  "Moiré?"

  "Hmmm," the older woman was scrubbing pots while Lacey dried, obviously wrapped in her own thoughts as much as Lacey was.

  "What would it mean if someone said to you that Morrighan was 'washing your laundry'?"

  There was a crash as Moiré dropped the cast-iron frying pan, suds flew everywhere and the kitchen floor shook from the impact.

  Moiré stared at her through the bubbles dancing in the air. "Where did ye hear that? Lacey! Where?" Lacey blinked, stunned by her vehemence.

  "Aidan," she said finally. "Aidan told Ronan that's why he came. He saw Morrighan washing Ronan's laundry..." she was stunned to see tears in Moiré's brown eyes. The woman leaned over the sink, one arm wrapped around her own stomach as if she wanted to retch. She was whispering to herself in Gaelic.

  "Moiré, you're scaring me! What's wrong?" Lacey reached out a hand and grasped her shoulder.

  "Everything," Moiré whispered. "I was wrong. He told me not to hope, but I was so sure..." She didn't resist when Lacey lead her to the kitchen table. She just sat down hard, her hands twisting themselves on the scarred tabletop. Lacey reached for her hands. They were ice-cold.

  "Moiré, please tell me what's going on?" she pleaded. Lacey felt cold herself, the foreboding that had been with her since Ronan had left was heavy in the air. It was hard to breathe.

  "It's an old prophecy, old as the gods themselves, I suppose." Moiré's voice sounded impossibly old itself right now, old and weary. "Bav, she has a weakness for warriors, but she's cruel, too. Impossibly cruel. She'd give a vision to the ones who were facing an upcoming battle. Some would see victory and valor, but others....would see her washing their blood-soaked armor in the River Shannon." She raised her eyes and looked at Lacey. "They were the ones who died."

  Lacey felt the shock burn down to her toes. Ronan couldn't die...he'd been alive longer than freakin' Methuselah. He was indestructible. Wasn't he?

  As long as I don't get killed... Ronan's words echoed in her head. But how could he get killed? He'd survived this long. She let go of Moiré's hands and jumped to her feet, her heart suddenly pounding. "But it's just a prophecy, right? Just a possibility...'no fate but what we make', right?"

  Moiré's brows drew together in a puzzled way, but her voice was lifeless.

  "Anything is a possibility, Lacey. But Cuchculain once had a vision of the Morrighan washing his armor in the Shannon and he was the greatest warrior Eire has ever known. He was Lugh's own son, for pity's sake. And still he died."

  Her lips were quivering slightly. "I was sure, so sure...that you..." her words died out as Lacey looked down at her in shock.

  "What?" The whole room seemed to spin as Moiré continued.

  "I thought you were here to save him, I was just sure of it. I've seen glimpses of you for years. Just these little flashes on and off. I have a bit 'o the sight, ye see. You were my hope. Even when you said you'd seen Aine, even when that vile witch placed you under her protection. I thought it was a trick, her trying to get us not to trust ye, see? To keep ye from us. But Ronan warned me. He warned me not to hope."

  "What did Ronan warn you about? What did he say about me?" Lacey couldn't seem to get a breath, the air felt solid in her lungs.

  "He had dreams about ye coming here. He didn't tell me until the day you showed up with Daire. He sa
id ye... ye must be evil. And he'd have to...to destroy you, because if he didn't...you were going to destroy him and us all. He’d seen it." Moiré was whispering now, no longer able to meet Lacey's horrified eyes.

  This was why Ronan had almost killed her, why he had grilled her so mercilessly, and why he didn't trust her, even now. He thought she was going to be responsible for his death. For hurting his family.

  It wasn't true. It was ridiculous.

  These people had lived with magic and omens for too damn long, Couldn't they see who she was, what she was?

  She wasn't evil, she wasn't going to hurt Ronan or his family. She was half in love with them already.

  She'd never betray them. Any of them. Couldn't Moiré see that?

  Lacey backed away from the kitchen table. "You're wrong…he's wrong!" she said, pleading.

  Moiré didn't raise her head, she stared at the table top and didn't say a word. Lacey couldn‘t bear it.

  She ran out of the kitchen for the second time in a week, her throat tight and burning, desperate to escape the madness. But this time it wasn't just fear dogging her steps as she ran. It was fear and a miserable, cutting pain.

  She ran under the roses and down the path to Ronan's cottage, trying not to look at it as she flew past.

  Into the woods. But she didn't care, they couldn’t hold anything worse than the pain that was working its way into her heart. How could he believe a stupid dream? How could Moiré think, even for a moment, that a damn vampire's vision spelled irreversible doom?

  But Lacey knew how...this was the world they lived in. That they had lived in for centuries. Her feet pounded down the forest path, the rocks digging into the soles of her thin shoes. Green, stippled light flashed over her arms and legs as she ran.

  Where fun-loving sixteen-year-old boys were turned into monstrous werewolves for no other reason than a goddess's jealous pique.

  Where demons could wear a loved one's face and rip out your heart.

  Where you just better listen to your visions and your dreams or who knows what worse hell you'd get put through.

  How could she have ever thought this was cool? It was beyond horrible. She wished she'd never met any of them. She should have never, ever have come to Ireland. Katie was right. It was the worst mistake of her life. Her lungs were burning and so were her eyes. But Lacey refused to let the tears fall.

  She was determined to outrun them.

  Chapter 14

  Ronan had gone to the tombs to think. It wasn't always a safe bet. Tourists swarmed around the lough like locusts in the summer, but it was early yet and he hadn't seen a soul on his way out. Which was a good thing. In his current state of mind, he was very, very dangerous.

  Pacing in the cool darkness of the stone cavern, Ronan ground his teeth. He couldn't kill Lacey. Couldn't. He'd let her too deep into him, despite what he knew, what he'd feared. She'd snuck right under those barriers, the prefect weapon, now he hadn’t been able to resist. If she'd hadn't… could he honestly kill an innocent woman just because the gods were using her?

  Unfortunately Ronan thought he knew the answer to that.

  Of course, he could. After centuries of survival he knew that no one was entirely innocent. In any case, he thought of death as a boon. The lucky ones died. The rest just suffered. If he had to end that suffering sooner rather than later for some fool human to protect his family from his curse, so be it. He may not have enjoyed it, it may have filled him with guilt, but he wouldn't have blinked twice.

  Wouldn't have. Those were the operative words here. Now he wasn't sure. Lacey had changed something inside him. Driven the darkness back a little. He cursed and picked up a huge rock the size of a pig and threw it into the wall, relishing the crash it made and the sharp stinging cuts the flying shards made when they hit his skin.

  Ronan needed his darkness to be strong, to be cold--to fucking endure. That it was also swallowing him whole, he knew very well. Lugh had warned him there was no way to hold it back forever. Light and dark could not coexist peacefully, one must hold sway.

  Lacey had brought back a little of the light, or so he’d thought. But that just made it more painful to do what he must. Ronan leaned his head into the rough rock wall and closed his eyes. He’d lied to his best friend for the first time in his life. He couldn’t do this…wouldn’t. Maybe he should let Aidan…

  Ronan raised his head, his teeth bared ferally. No, he wasn’t a damn coward. Lacey deserved better and maybe... he crushed the flicker of hope ruthlessly. He knew that if he didn’t do it now, Aidan certainly would.

  One burden his friend did not suffer from was that of an over-active conscience.

  Ronan was walking toward the tomb entrance when he heard running feet. He wasn’t sure who was more shocked when he looked up and met Lacey’s eyes. He wondered if it was fate, or just a sick coincidence. He stared at her, this lovely thing that had entered his life and shocked him at every turn. First, by forcing him to retreat from a course of action... something he never, ever did anymore- then by trying to save his life and by making him feel connected to the mortal world in a real way for the first time in centuries.

  Connected to her. Connected by love. Ronan straightened as the truth threatened to fall from his lips.

  But Lacey spoke first. "Were you even going to tell me?" He was confused, until he noticed the tears streaking her face and the way she was shaking. His stomach tightened. Someone had told her. Not Aidan, though. Not with the sun high in the sky. Who...

  "Moiré," she said in a monotone, obviously reading the question in his eyes. "I asked her about what Aidan said about the Morrighan."

  "Nae, you didna!" Ronan groaned and sank back against the tomb wall, knowing his mother would have been damn near hysterical.

  "Of course, I did. See, unlike you, Ronan, I don't know which parts to hold back and which to offer in bits and pieces. Seems to me you've spent so much time around these damn Irish gods of yours that you're starting to act like them."

  Her words stung. But it hurt far more to realize she was right.

  Just what was he becoming?

  Lacey stood in the misty sunlight just outside the cool shadows of the cavern, watching him. Her in the light and him in the dark. Ronan could almost smile at the irony except for the misery that was threatening to crush him. How could he make this choice? His family.... or her? Because he knew that he loved them both.

  Lacey stepped forward, into the darkness with him, and cupped her small hand against his face, her jewel-bright eyes glowing. "Don't be a mouse, Ronan," she whispered and then shocked him one more time by lifting her lips to his.

  Lacey felt it course through him. Felt the ripple in that huge body. He probably thought she'd never touch him... or trust him again after what she'd learned he believed. She wasn't sure herself if she did. But she knew she wasn't going to just give in anymore, not to fate or the gods or whatever he thought was inevitable. She was going to fight.

  For once in her life, something was just too goddamn important.

  Him.

  She reached high to wrap her arms around his neck, sliding her tongue into his mouth. His taste made her sigh into his mouth, even as he stood irresolute against her. Lacey ignored his deliberate lack of reaction, letting herself enjoy exploring his mouth fully, without him distracting her. She sucked his full bottom lip, bit it gently and ran her tongue along the soft curve.

  Ronan didn't move, but she saw him close his eyes and felt the tension rising in his body. Lacey smiled and increased her onslaught. Sliding her hands from his neck, the slowly down the hard muscles of his chest and lower. First over, then under the fabric of his shirt as she neared his waist and slipped her hands inside. His skin was so warm and taut, the ridges of his muscles fascinating to her exploring fingertips.

  He sucked in a breath when she unbuttoned his jeans. Lacey felt his stomach contract, though he didn't make a sound. Even as she pressed her open mouth to his stomach, breathing deeply of that smoky, cedary sme
ll of his, and slipped her hand around his erection. Ronan could have been hewn of the rock that surrounded them. But he wasn't cold, his flesh burned against her palm and when she drew him into her mouth, he shuddered.

  She loved doing this to him, Lacey realized, loved evoking this kind of response from such a man. From her Ronan. She suckled him until with a groan, he sank his fingers into her hair and fored her head back, sinking to his knees beside her.

  "Lacey," his whisper was ragged. "Don't, do nae tempt me so."

  "Why?" Her voice was fierce. "You don't want me anymore, is that it?"

  His eyes darkened until they were more black than gray, his grip on her hair tightened almost painfully. "I want ye more than I want anything in this world, but, Lacey..."

  "I won't betray you, Ronan. I never would hurt you or your family. I don't care what the gods want, or what visions anyone has.... nothing is going to change that. Can't you believe me?"

  Ronan wanted to believe her. Damme, he almost did. But he also knew the gods played hardball and he felt in his soul that she would destroy him. Hell, she already was. She was tearing his heart and his loyalties in two. Ronan stared at her, unable to speak.

  She knelt beside him, her beauty luminescent, her fiery gold hair tousled and her aquamarine eyes impossibly bright. They were wet as she read his indecision. But she reached for him anyway.

  "Make love to me, Ronan." She pressed a finger to his lips when he started to protest. "One last time....before whatever happens....happens."

  And, gods curse him again, he could not resist her.

  He stripped her clothes away and then his, piling them on the hard ground before laying her down on it. It was lumpy and the cold of the rock still seeped in, but it could have been a bed of goose down and roses for all the attention Lacey paid. Nothing other than Ronan was of the slightest notice to her. Her world had shrunk to one man.

  Ronan placed his hand on her bare stomach, his palm warm and heavy, his fingers easily spanning from hipbone to hipbone. He let it rest there a moment, just watching her watch him and feeling her breath.