Chapter Seven
Fáelán ushered Regan into his house, and the sound of voices and laughter drifted to her from a spacious room to their left. The wainscoting on the walls of the room were the same golden oak as the double doors opened wide. A sectional couch faced a large fieldstone hearth, and several other seating arrangements were grouped throughout the space. This room alone had to be close to the square footage of her entire town house in Howth.
Regan stood at the threshold, eyeing the twenty-plus individuals within. A bar took up one corner, and a young man bearing a remarkable resemblance to Fáelán stood behind it, pouring drinks for an older couple. The bartender’s hair was short, more blond than auburn, and he didn’t have as many freckles. Still, if his hair were darker, he and Fáelán could easily pass for twins, or at least brothers.
Fáelán set his hand at the small of her back and gently moved her forward. All eyes turned to them, and greetings flew like swallows, dipping and swooping through the air.
“This is Regan MacCarthy,” Jim called over the din.
She was surrounded by smiling, happy faces in a wide range of ages. Hands took hers, someone patted her shoulder, and the younger children gamboled around the adults, picking up on the excitement. A surge of warmth spread through her. This was Fáelán’s family, and they were welcoming her into their midst.
“So you’re able to see Fáelán when he’s . . . um . . . ,” the young man who’d been behind the bar stammered.
“Aye, she can see me in the void.” Fáelán put his arm around her shoulders. “Regan, this is Jeremy. He’s Jim’s oldest grandson.” He went on to introduce everyone.
“It’s nice to meet all of you.” Her gaze darted around the circle of curious faces. “I’m afraid it’s going to take me a while to remember your names.”
“I told you we should’ve made name tags, Da.” A middle-aged woman flashed Jim a reproachful look.
“Aye, so you did.” Jim gestured toward the sectional. “Have a seat, Regan. Have a seat. Would you care for something to drink? A dram o’ whiskey perhaps, or hard cider?”
“Cider would be nice, thank you.” As soon as she settled on the couch, Fáelán’s family gathered near her, some dragging chairs from across the room to place around the sectional.
“So,” Dinah, Jim’s daughter, began. “We’re all grateful you’re here. You’ve given us hope for Fáelán. Maybe you’ll be the one to end his curse at last, Regan MacCarthy,” she said, lifting her glass. “Here’s to an end to the curse.”
A chorus of toasts ensued, and Regan’s mouth went dry. So it was true. Her boasty ghost was cursed and not a scáil after all? “How many of you are able to see him when he’s in the void realm?” Six hands rose, including Dinah’s.
“Being able to see him comes to us directly through his four sisters, and it’s always been the way of it,” Jim said. “Thanks to Fáelán, we’ve a family tree stretching all the way back to the year he was cursed. Would you like to see it?” He started to rise.
“Maybe later, James.” Fáelán gestured for him to sit back down. “I know ye’ll all be wantin’ to hear the tale of how Regan and I met, aye?”
“That we would,” Jeremy said, working his way into the circle of chairs and people. He placed a coaster and a glass of cider on the coffee table in front of Regan.
Regan couldn’t help gawking. “You look so much like him.”
“I do, and that’s a fact.” Jeremy winked. “Comes in handy.”
What did that mean? Regan took a swallow, hoping it would relieve the lingering dryness in her mouth. The younger children came to sit on the rug at Fáelán’s feet, their eyes sparkling with anticipation. Clearly, he’d told stories before, because the room quieted, and even the adults exuded an air of expectation. Fáelán must have amazing tales to share after being around for so long.
Her breath caught. He wasn’t a ghost, and maybe, just maybe, she’d have a future with this gorgeous man. She too might get to hang on every word as he took on the role of storyteller at family gatherings.
He took her hand in his and rested them on his knee. “There she was, standing before Brú Na Bóinne, with her wee foot touching the back of her head, and her back arched. I wondered aloud what the daft lassie was about.”
Entranced, Regan got caught up in his tale. He had everyone laughing as he related their shared banter, embellishing some things and downplaying others. Fáelán truly had a gift for storytelling. Hadn’t he said to become one of the Fianna, a man had to be a poet in his own right? What must it have been like to sit around a campfire with him and a group of Fenians, each taking their turn to entertain the others?
After he finished the story, he shared with his family how the two of them had spent their time together since, including his need to go for a run while visiting Kilkenny because she’d vexed him so. “And here we are.” He gazed around at his family. “Tonight, I plan to take her out on the town, and tomorrow we shall return to Howth.”
“Will you not consider staying here, Fáelán?” Kathryn, Jim’s wife, asked. “After all this time, we’d love to have you with us the day after the curse is lifted. We’ll have much to celebrate.”
“Nay. ’Twould be better if Regan and I had a bit of privacy.”
His grip on her hand tightened, and he tensed beside her. Why? What is going through his mind right now? She looked at him in question, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“What were you doing at Newgrange that morning, Regan?” Jim turned to her, his expression avid. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s a long story.” She reached for her cider and took a sip.
“We’ve time enough, and we’d love to hear you tell it,” Dinah said, her eyes lit with genuine interest.
“All right, but I’m not as good as Fáelán when it comes to telling stories.”
“Makes no difference,” a young woman assured her, one of the cousins whose names she couldn’t recall. “Go on.”
“All right. I come from a family of Irish descent, and many of us are born with . . . certain gifts. My sister Meredith and I can see and communicate with ghosts and other spirit beings. Meredith can also sense things that are happening to those close to her—family mostly. Then there’s my sister Grayce.”
Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, she took her hand back from Fáelán to run both sweaty palms down her jeans. Fáelán’s family had been nothing but accepting, but old habits died hard, and revealing so much still made her nervous. “Like my dad, Grayce has visions and premonitions about things to come, and she’s also an empath.” Fáelán put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him.
“There is a story that has been handed down through our family about an ancestor, a woman who helped one of the fae,” she said. “I guess faeries can be bound by iron, and he’d been trapped. She set him free, and the faerie bestowed the gift of sight to the woman, and the abilities have been passed down one generation to the next.” She gazed around the room, seeing nothing but acceptance and interest.
“I came to Ireland hoping to trace my family roots to that ancestor.” She shrugged. “And maybe to find a way to give the gift of sight back, or at least to learn how to shut myself off from the ghosts.” Trying to find a way to close herself off from the world of spirits had been at the heart of her attraction to yoga. When she meditated, she came close.
“Hmm.” Jim frowned. “More than likely, the fae did not bestow the gift, but passed it along through the usual way. The two must’ve had a child together.”
“Is that what happened with your sisters?” she asked, glancing at Fáelán. “Did they have children with one of the fae?”
“Nay, whilst your kin’s gifts vary, and are passed down through your DNA, the ability my kin carry never changes. They see me. None have visions or see ghosts. Fionn’s fae cousin, Alpin, described what he did as an opening of the mind for the sole purpose of helping me. He said the enchantment would follow only the direct bloodline of my sisters, and that it would echo through the ages.”
Jim nodded. “I suspect the enchantment is triggered by a specific genetic marker passed on to a few us with each new generation.”
“Aye, ’tis certain, though of course Alpin made no mention of DNA.” Fáelán shrugged. “I see it as similar to the way Fionn became enlightened after he caught and ate the salmon of knowledge.” He took her hand back. “Are ye familiar with the tale?”
She nodded. “I read about it when I did research on the Fianna.”
“Why would you want to give your abilities back?” a boy of around twelve asked.
“’Tis a heavy load she carries, Michael,” Fáelán said. “To see ghosts, and to be expected to help them depart this world, is no easy task. Imagine the toll it would take if ye were expected to deal with the dead day in and day out.”
“Have you ever seen or felt a ghost’s presence?” she asked the boy. He’d been one to raise his hand when she’d asked who could see Fáelán in the void.
He shook his head. “But I see Fáelán, and so do you. If you didn’t have the sight, you wouldn’t be able to help him.”
“As far as helping him goes, there’s really nothing I can do other than spend time with him,” she said. “Even so, there’s no guarantee that . . .” He’ll fall madly in love with me. The words carried far too much weight, and pressed too heavily upon her hopes and dreams, to be spoken aloud. “Just because I’m with him doesn’t mean his curse will end.”
“True, but we’ve eyes enough to see he can’t keep from touching you. We all see the way he looks at you,” Jeremy added. “That’s what gives us hope, Regan, not your presence or your ability to see him when he’s in the void.”
She risked a peek at Fáelán. His expression had closed, and his answering glance was brief but intense. Again, she wondered what might be going through his mind.
“Would you like a tour of the house, Álainn?” he asked, rising from his place beside her.
“I would.” Grateful for the change of subject, she stood up.
He put a hand over his chest and faced his family. “As always, it does my heart good to see all of ye. Thank ye for coming today, and thank ye for your warm welcome toward Regan. We’ll be back shortly, and ye can bring me up-to-date on all of your news.” He took her hand and led her to the foyer.
His family hadn’t shown any fear or repulsion after she’d told her story, only curiosity. In fact, more than a few heads had nodded when Jeremy wondered why she’d want to give back her giftedness. Their acceptance warmed her heart and soothed her nerves. “I like your family.”
He grabbed her bag, and they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “Aye, ’tis blessed I am to have them.” Slinging the strap of her bag higher on his shoulder, he took her elbow. “They’re right. I cannot go a second without touching ye.”
“Sure, but when’s the last time you had a woman to touch?” She arched a brow. “It doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll fall madly in love with me.”
“Nay, it doesn’t,” he said, his tone tight. “I’m still hoping the fae princess has forgotten all about me. The curse will lift, and naught will happen to test anything. Let us not think upon it overmuch today.”
He led her to a door at the end of a long hall on the second floor. “I love this wing of the house, for ’tis mine and mine alone.” He opened the door for her and stepped back.
Her curiosity piqued, she entered a large living room. Tall windows faced east and west, letting in plenty of light and fresh air. Regan moved to the eastern window and looked out at the expanse of land between the house and the rugged cliffs overlooking the ocean.
“’Tis a wonderful view.” He came to stand behind her. “There is an identical suite at the opposite end of the hall, and four other bedrooms besides. James and Kathryn have lived and raised their family here, as prior generations have done afore them. My family maintains this home well, and for my part, I’ve done what I could for them. ’Twas the only way I could show my gratitude for their help over the years.”
A large TV stood on a very antique-looking wood-and-iron trunk. A plush couch and two comfortable upholstered recliners had been arranged to face the makeshift entertainment center. “Is that a Sony PlayStation? You play video games?”
“Nay. My younger cousins, nieces and nephews like to play, and I have it here for them. I’ve never acquired a taste for video games. Having fought in real battles where real men, many of them my friends, bled and died, I find I do not enjoy pretending.”
Regan wandered around the room, stopping now and then to study a painting, or to get a better look at the objects displayed on the built-in oak shelving. She picked up an ornate clock with gold edging and turned it over in her hands. “Is this an example of stolen treasure?” She held it up.
“Nay. I paid for that piece after selling a more ancient treasure I’d . . . er . . . collected long ago.”
“Collected.” Regan snorted. “Meaning pilfered, purloined, lifted, pinched—”
“What would ye have done if the accursed shoe had been on your wee foot?” He walked across the room and opened another door. “Come see the rest, oh judgmental one.”
She followed him into a luxurious bedroom with a hearth identical to the one downstairs only smaller. This room faced south, and sunlight poured in through the windows. Fáelán obviously favored bright colors, because the room was done in crimson, gold and hunter green. It fit his bold personality.
An enormous four-poster bed dominated the room. “That is some bed,” she said. “How old is it?” She ran her hand down one of the intricately carved wooden posts. It had a frame for a canopy, but no curtains hung from the top. Was this piece stolen? How did one whisk away a heavy four-poster bed to the void, then bring it back again to the material realm? She grinned, trying to picture Fáelán stealing this particular antique.
“Sixteenth century, and don’t think I can’t see plainly on your face what’s going through your mind. Not everything I own has been pilfered. This bed came to me through my family.”
“OK. If you say so,” she teased.
He dropped her bag upon the mattress and drew her into his arms. “Would ye like to test the mattress, my beauty?”
Her heart turned over, and desire coursed through her in a flood of heat. More than anything, she wanted to make love with him again . . . and again. “While twenty of your family members continue to party downstairs, waiting for our return? Maybe later.” She ran her hands up and down his chest and stepped out of his embrace.
“Maybe later, ye say?” He did that chin-lowering, peering-at-her-from-beneath-his-brow thing she found so sexy.
“Exactly. We need to pick up some protection if we’re—”
“Protection?”
“Condoms,” she said. “Haven’t you ever—”
“Nay, nor do I wish to.” He crossed the room to yet another door. “The loo is through here.”
“Now that I know for certain you aren’t a ghost or some other kind of spirit being, we’re going to have to use some form of birth control, whether you wish to or not.”
She joined him to take a peek. An elegant marble floor, a shower and an equally elegant vanity filled the large bathroom. And even better, there happened to be an old claw-foot tub, which would be a great place for one of her nerve-calming soaks. “I can’t take another chance like we did earlier today, Fáelán.”
“Do ye not want children, Regan?”
“Sure I do. Someday.” How would she bear it if he disappeared after his brief reprieve? “But being a single parent doesn’t appeal to me, and—”
His jaw tightened. “Aye, we’ll pick up protection in town. Would ye like to put your things away, or would ye rather return to our guests? And we’ve much to face afore we can even speak of such things.”
Her heart thumped, and icy fingers of dread laced her stomach into a tight corset. If Fáelán did fall in love with her, what would the fae princess do to test his willingness to give his life for Regan’s? At the moment, she wished she had her sister’s ability for precognition. A vision would come in handy right now. But she didn’t, and she doubted anything Morrigan might do could possibly end with “and they lived happily ever after.”
“I don’t have much to put away. It can wait. Let’s go back downstairs and spend time with your family. I want to get some pictures of you with them, and of you and me in front of the fireplace. You can show me the rest of the house tomorrow morning.”
Fáelán gazed at Regan across the linen-covered table as he took another mussel from its shell and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm.” He winked at Regan. “Delicious, aye?”
She nodded while buttering a piece of the rosemary-garlic bread. “Really good.”
“My cousin Daniel went to Ballymaloe Cookery School in County Cork. He worked for a restaurant in Shannon for several years before coming home to Waterford and opening his own place. We should take a tour of Ballymaloe sometime.”
Fáelán had financed his cousin Dan’s ambition to open this restaurant, and he was deeply gratified to see it doing so well. Earning a tidy sum from his investment didn’t hurt either. “The school is quite impressive,” he continued. “They’ve their own organic gardens, and, of course, there’s a castle. I know how much ye love castles.”
“I’d like to visit Ballymaloe,” Regan said around a mouthful. “The sauce on these mussels is amazing.”
Fáelán left the last mussel for Regan and tore off a piece of the fresh warm bread to soak up some of the buttery white wine sauce she’d mentioned. Gods, but she looked lovely in a dress. She wore her hair swept up, showing off the graceful curve of her neck and shoulders. Other men had ogled her as the two of them were led to their table. Ah, but she was here with him, and seeing all that admiration turned her way filled him with pride. Thankfully, they’d had the good sense to stop at a pharmacy on their way to the restaurant because thoughts of making love to her consumed him.
Regan pried the last mussel from its shell and put it in her mouth. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to catch a drip on her lower lip. She sighed and half closed her eyes. His blood rushed to his groin. The hint of cleavage peeking from the V in her dress wreaked havoc on his self-control, and the memories of making love to her earlier that day flooded his senses. He was supposed to be impressing her with his good manners and charm, and he was finding it difficult even to speak.
He’d always been lustier than most, but he’d also prided himself on his self-discipline. Searching his mind for something to say, he tried to clear the haze of lust enough to start a conversation. Thankfully, their waiter came then, refilling their wineglasses and clearing the appetizer away.
“Shall we share our entrées?” Fáelán placed his elbows on the table. “I’d love a taste of the lamb ye ordered.”
“Absolutely. It was hard to decide, everything sounded so good.”
“The musicians are beginning to set up.” He tipped his head toward the bar area, where a small stage stood before a dance floor. Brilliant conversationalist he turned out to be. “Will ye dance with me after supper, Regan?”
“I will, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be any good.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I haven’t done a lot of dancing.”
“Ye’ll do fine, for I’ll be leading.” He leaned back and sipped his wine, pleased when his boast brought forth her laughter. “Music to my ears.” Fáelán couldn’t keep his eyes from her, no matter how hard he tried. The candlelight brought a sparkle to her fine eyes, and her skin glowed in the soft light. “Tá tú go hálinn, mo a grá, so very beautiful, and being with ye this eve . . . well, ’tis proud I am to have ye by my side.”
“Thank you, Fáelán.” She gifted him with one of her heart-piercing smiles. “You don’t have to flatter me, you know.”
“The Fianna do not flatter, and I speak only the truth.” He reached for her hand and held it between his. “Tell me why ye doubt my sincerity, love.”
She shook her head, her features softening. Her expression held a tender kind of sadness he’d not seen afore, and his heart dropped. More than anything, he wanted to see her smile again. The need to know she felt secure, the desire to see her confident of his regard . . . when had these things become his driving force?
“I just know how hard you’re trying to fall—”
“Ye know I’m sworn to speak only truth, and your doubt cuts me to the quick.” Even he was surprised by how true his words were. “I would never tell ye false. I’ll not say what I do not mean. Ever.”
Her brow creased, and her smile disappeared. She slid her hand out from beneath his and rearranged the linen napkin on her lap, keeping her eyes downcast. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Fáelán. But my take on things is a little different from yours. I understand how much you want to love me and why. Let’s face it. The only reason we’re together is because of a stupid curse, and because I happen to have the ability to see you when you’re in the void. Not the best foundation on which to build a relationship, is it?” Her eyes met his. “Our being together has nothing at all to do with who I am, and everything to do with ending your captivity.”
He cut loose a string of curses under his breath and scrubbed his face with both hands. Lowering his hands, he leaned as far across the table as he could and fixed her in his gaze. “How can ye dismiss what is between us so easily? Do ye not feel the same quickening pulse, the same breathless gladness when ye set eyes upon me that I do when I lay eyes upon ye?”
She opened her mouth as if to speak, and at that moment, their dinners arrived. Regan’s eyes were overly bright. They waited in silence as their plates were set before them and the waiter left.
“Have you given it even a second’s thought how all of this is affecting me?” She pushed the roasted vegetables around her plate with her fork. “I’m not dismissing what I feel for you, Fáelán, but it’s . . .” She cleared her throat. “It’s going to crush me if you disappear after our five days together. I’m trying to be rational about all of this. I’m trying to—”
“Protect yourself.” Feck. He’d considered only himself and what he needed. He hadn’t spared even a fleeting thought for her feelings. “I beg your forgiveness, mo a grá. ’Tis clear I’ve been selfish.” A fierce yearning rose within him. He wanted a future with Regan. He wanted to give her children, a home and a lifetime filled with love. “Can we set the matter aside for now and enjoy this fine meal?”
“I don’t think you’re selfish, Fáelán. If the accursed shoe were on my wee foot, I’d be desperate too.” Her expression filled with sympathy. “I want you to know I’m here for you, and even though I can only imagine what it’s been like, I can empathize.”
He couldn’t speak past the prickling at the back of his throat. Nodding, he cut a portion of his salmon and placed it on her plate. He struggled to gain control over the powerful emotions churning through him. Her compassion humbled him, and he was in awe of her beauty, both inside and out. “Eat, lassie, and then we’ll dance.”
“Here,” she said, placing one of her lamb chops on his plate.
They ate in silence. Regan was a rare woman indeed. In all his long life, he’d never met her equal. Brave, caring and generous, she fairly shone with goodness and beauty. “Ye’d have made a grand Fiann, Regan, and I would have been proud to serve with ye.”
“I don’t think so.” She huffed out a laugh. “No way could I bind my hair and run for miles without a single strand coming loose. I wouldn’t even try.”
“I want ye,” he rasped out.
She stilled. “I want you too.”
“How would ye feel about going home early?”
“I’d like that.”
They finished their meal to Irish music being played in the bar. They’d dance another night. Right now he wanted to take Regan home and show her how he felt about her. Fáelán signaled their server for the bill. The waiter disappeared into the back, then reappeared, accompanied by Fáelán’s cousin.
“How’s my favorite investor?” Daniel asked, clasping Fáelán’s hand in a hearty shake. He glanced curiously toward Regan.
“Daniel, this is Regan MacCarthy. Regan, this is Daniel O’Boyle, another one of my many cousins. We missed ye at the gatherin’, boyo.”
“Sorry I couldn’t make it, but I knew I’d be seeing you tonight.” His gaze swung back to Regan. “You have no idea how glad we all are to meet you, Regan. In honor of this momentous occasion, tonight’s meal is on the house.” Daniel rubbed his hands together. “Dessert is on the way.”
“Everything we had was outstanding, but I don’t have any room for dessert.” Regan placed her hand on her midriff. “I am full.”
“We’d like to retire early this eve, but we’ll be back soon,” Fáelán told him. “Go raigh maith agat.”
“Yes, thank you,” Regan added.
“You are both more than welcome, and I look forward to future visits.” He sent Fáelán a meaningful look. “May the rest of your week go without a hitch. Safe home to you both. Slán abhaile. I’ll have the dessert boxed and brought out right away.” With that, Dan left them.
Their waiter brought them the to-go box. He and Regan gathered their things, and Fáelán dropped a generous tip on the table. He could hardly wait to have Regan in his bed. Tonight he’d fall asleep with her in his arms. He’d be surrounded by her scent with her sweet curves pressed against him the whole night through. Placing his hand at the small of her back, he guided her out into the warmth of a fine summer’s eve.
He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt quite this happy or this optimistic.
“Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Fáelán,” Regan said as they reached his car.
“Ye are most welcome.” He couldn’t get them home fast enough, and for the first time, he missed his ability to will himself where he wished to be. He took Regan by the hand, fixed his mind upon his bedroom and gave it a try. Naught happened. “Hmph.” He opened her door for her.
“Hmph?” Regan repeated.
“I wanted to see what happened if I tried to will us into my bed to save time.” He flashed her a wry look. “Didn’t work.”
She laughed. “It’s not a long drive.” She settled into the MINI Cooper.
“Is it not?” He hurried around to the driver’s side and got them going down the road toward home. “May there be many more dinners out yet to come for us,” he said under his breath. Regan placed her hand over his on the gearshift, and his insides melted. He switched so that his hand rested atop hers. “I have not told ye enough how very beautiful ye are, Regan, and ’tis not flattery, but the truth.”
“Yeah, you’re just trying to get me into your bed,” she teased, a sweet smile playing across her kissable mouth.
“Aye, that too.” He squeezed her fingers. Her laughter washed through him, dispelling his worries and gladdening his heart.
By the time he pulled the car in to the driveway, he was breathless with his need for Regan. Fáelán grabbed the bag from the pharmacy, and Regan took the to-go box. Thankfully, they found the house quiet as they entered. “I’ll put this dessert into the fridge,” he said, trading sacks with Regan. “Go on. I’ll be up in a moment.”
“All right.” She started up the stairs.
Transfixed, he watched the way her hips swayed, the graceful way she ran her hand along the polished banister. She glanced back, catching him ogling her.
She arched a brow. “How long do you plan to stand there?”
“Not a second longer.” He turned on his heel and strode to the kitchen, put the dessert away and jogged back to the stairs. Far be it from him to keep his beauty waiting. He opened his door to find Regan’s dress pooled upon the rug just over the threshold. His pulse raced as he caught sight of her shoes, and beyond them, a flash of something lacy in front of his bedroom door. He groaned and followed the trail she’d left him, unbuttoning his shirt along the way.
He found her naked and lying on her side upon his bed. “What a sight ye are, Álainn, a feast for the senses.” He kicked off his shoes and stripped. Her sultry gaze ran over him, and his cock twitched. Climbing onto the bed, he stared into her eyes and growled, stalking her. “Your wolf is about to take a bite.”
Laughing, she welcomed him into her arms, and their mouths came together in a scorching kiss. He learned her body with his hands and his mouth, reveling in each delectable bit of her luscious curves. “Mmm.” He kissed his way down her neck to her soft, plump breasts. “Delicious.” He took a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping until she moaned and arched into him.
For the second time that day, he lost himself in Regan’s beauty. They were perfect together, and making love to her was like coming home to a warm, welcoming heaven on earth. Drawing her closer, he flipped them so that she was on top. He slid his palms down her back to cup her bottom. “Ah, Regan, ye amaze and humble me, ye do.” He gazed at her, smoothing her hair back from her face. By all that was holy, she was beautiful, beautiful and precious beyond imagining. Fáelán was nearly brought to tears as feelings of possessiveness, tenderness and desire to protect her washed through him in a deluge.
Regan kissed his forehead, then both of his eyelids, his cheeks and finally his mouth. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” she whispered before nipping his neck.
The sound of her breathing, she soft way it touched his skin, sent a cascade of shivers down his spine. He ached to be inside her. She shifted to lie by his side and took him in her hand, stroking and fondling his cock until he thrust helplessly into her touch, wanting more, wanting her. “Condom.”
“Right here,” she replied, reaching under a pillow. “Do you need help?”
“’Tis certain I can figure it out for myself.” He took the foil wrapper from her and tore it open. He’d been around long enough to know of them and how they worked. “I’m more clever than ye think,” he muttered, rolling the sheath over himself. “’Tis like wearing a slicker on a sunny day,” he grumbled.
She caressed his aching balls, and he forgot all about how much he disliked protection. “I’ve the desire for dessert after all.” He took her nipple into his mouth again, first one then the other. “Open for me, mo a grá.”
She did, and he found the sensitive nub of her sex. Her slick readiness drove him mad. He worshipped her body with his hands and kissed his way down her torso. Seeing her so open to him, he lost the ability to think. Instinct took over, and he made love to her with his mouth, flicking his tongue over her clit until she cried out and pressed herself against him. He plunged a finger into her welcoming heat, nipped, licked and teased until she came apart. Before the last pulse of pleasure receded, he entered her.
Forcing himself to think of other things, he remained still for a moment, lest he come at the first thrust. Regan moved beneath him, drawing his attention to her.
“What’s wrong?” She slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders.
Fáelán touched her forehead with his. “There’s naught wrong, my beauty. I need a wee bit of control, is all.”
“What if I don’t want you to be in control?” She thrust her hips against him again.
He chuckled. “Have it your way.” Fáelán made love to her, slowly at first, increasing his pace as the groans and gasps she made drove him over the edge. This was more than sex, more a merging of souls, and he shattered with his release, coming together again as a new man. He dropped to the mattress beside her, wrapped his arms around her, unable to speak.
Snuggling up to him, Regan traced his tattoos with her finger, occasionally dropping kisses here and there. “Do your tattoos mean anything, or are they purely decorative?” she asked, touching the leaping salmon over his heart.
“Aye.” A sigh of utter contentment escaped. “The salmon identifies me as one of the Fianna. It’s Fionn MacCumhaill’s symbol. The other on my chest is my clan’s symbol, and upon my back ye’ll see another that identifies me as the son of Breck.” He peered into her eyes. “See, if I’d been slain far from home, I’m stamped with my return address. That way, my remains would make it home to my kin without difficulty.”
“That’s . . . macabre.” She yawned.
“Nay, ’tis but good sense.” He ran his hand up and down her back. “The tattoos on my shoulders are to commemorate victories in battle.”
“I love your tattoos.” She yawned again and snuggled closer. “Your cousin, the one who looks just like you, mentioned the resemblance came in handy. What did he mean?”
“When my appearance is needed, he darkens his hair with dye and stands in for me.”
“When would your appearance be needed?” Regan lifted herself slightly to peer at him.
“I wished to get an education, which is not easy when one can only walk in the earthly realm twenty days out of the year. With the help of my kin, I did what I could online, dictating research papers, whilst they entered my words into the computer. I’d read the textbooks whilst one of them turned the pages for me.”
He shifted and drew her back down against his chest. “But many classes were not offered online, so Jeremy attended them for me.” He arched a brow. “’Twas I who did all the work, though. He recorded the lectures for me, and in return, I paid for his education.”
“That’s fair. So, you have a degree?”
“Aye, in anthropology and ancient history. I want to continue and get a PhD in archaeology.”
“Really?”
“Aye. Since I actually know where significant sites can be found, just think what I might be able to accomplish.”
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
“Perhaps I’ll also be a professor.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Regan sighed and closed her eyes. “Comfy bed.”
“Comfy woman,” he whispered, cupping her breast. As soon as she fell asleep, he turned to his side and wrapped himself protectively around her. Nothing in this world compared to having Regan in his bed and in his arms. He’d waited nearly two thousand years to feel like this, and the thought that he might lose her could not be borne.
Her warmth seeped into him, and worries plagued him. Why had he not realized sooner? ’Twould not be him Morrigan would harm, but Regan. Hence the part of the curse where he’d be willing to lay down his life for hers.
More than anything, he needed Regan to be safe. If ending the curse meant trading her well-being for his, he’d refuse. He clenched his jaw against the ache in his chest. These five days might be all he’d ever have with Regan, for he would not put her life in peril for his freedom. He would not give her his heart fully, because to do so meant putting her in danger. Once again, he’d thwart Morrigan, and there was no telling what she’d do or how she’d react to his defiance.