Chapter Eighteen
“A path not chosen, but taken, will be fraught with sharp curves.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
When the first drop of rain landed on Ivy’s breast, she giggled. A sound he found enchanting. She was his sprite of the forest. As another splashed on her cheek, he kissed the water from her face. She wiggled under him, and his cock swelled at the invitation. Nuzzling her breasts, he murmured, “If you continue to move sensually, I’ll be forced to take you again.”
“In the rain?” she asked, opening for him.
“Are you afraid of a little water?” he teased, tracing a path along one breast with his tongue.
“Bah! Bring it on,” she encouraged, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Thunder rolled directly over them as Conn thrust deep within Ivy. The sky could have opened with hail and lightning, but he was lost in the arms of the most bewitching woman he had ever met. She was the sun, moon, stars above him, and the earth beneath Conn. As he roused her passion, his grew stronger. Moving in a primal dance, the liquid fire built inside of him, and he captured her cries and mingled them with his own—shattering into a million pieces. His release so strong the ground shook beneath them.
Moments passed before Conn could focus. Trying to calm his racing heart, he shielded Ivy from the torrential downpour. Her eyes were closed as he kissed her swollen lips. “Unless you want to be knee deep in mud, I believe we should get out of the rain.”
Her eyes flickered open. “Come back to the cottage with me?”
“Will you feed me?”
Ivy arched a brow. “It depends on what you’re hungry for.”
“You have wicked thoughts, lass.”
“Only when I’m around you.”
Conn stood and reached for Ivy’s hand to help her stand. “Not true. I want to hear more about this proposal of painting me in the nude.”
Her face turned crimson, but she didn’t look away. “Those thoughts don’t count. Also, I don’t recall saying anything about a proposal.”
“Yet, you have intrigued me,” he responded dryly.
As Conn gathered their wet clothes, he moved them under a large pine to shield them from the rain as they attempted to dress themselves. Ivy’s dress clung to every curve, and he was tempted to strip her of the fabric and make love to her once again. Instead, he placed his leather jacket over her shoulders.
“Warmer?”
She smiled fully at him. “I was never cold.”
Grasping her hand, he pulled her toward him and kissed her soundly. Then Conn scooped her up into his arms and headed back to the car.
“I can walk, Sir Knight,” she mocked, tracing a finger down the side of his face.
“I like holding you.”
Conn could feel her gaze, but he kept his focus on the land. Soon, he stepped out of the forest, made a steady path to the car, and helped Ivy inside the passenger side. Slipping in next to her, he fumbled for the keys. Moments later, they were headed back to Glennamore.
By the time they returned to the cottage, the sky had turned black, and the rain had turned into a vicious storm. Conn maneuvered the car near the front entrance and Ivy dashed out. When she was safely inside her house, he drove to the garage and parked the vehicle. Sprinting back to the cottage, he stripped free from his boots and left them outside the front door.
Stepping inside, Conn made his way to the hearth in the sitting room and placed kindling and wood inside. Wiping his nose, he looked around for matches. Seeing none, he grumbled a curse. Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, he turned back around. Flexing his fingers, he let the sparks dance off onto the wood. Instantly, the blaze took hold. Warmth and light flooded the place, and he smiled.
“How did you start the fire?” demanded Ivy, towel drying her damp locks and looking adorable in black leggings and a sweater dress that hugged all her curves.
“Matches,” he lied.
She gaped at him. “I have none. It was on my list to purchase at the market.”
“Found one lying nearby.” He stared at her, daring her to challenge him.
“Lucky find, since I cleaned this place only yesterday.” Ivy moved into the room and stood in front of the blazing heat.
Conn shrugged dismissively.
Slumping down in a chair, she lifted her bare feet to the fire. “Ooo…feels heavenly.”
He remained standing. “No socks?”
She wiggled her toes. “Nope. I’ve always hated them. I only wear them with boots. My mom—” Ivy paused and looked away. Sighing, she continued, “She told me that it started as soon as I could walk. She’d always find me running around without shoes and socks. My feet were constantly dirty.” Ivy glanced at him and laughed. “Said I was a child of the Fae.”
Amused, Conn only nodded.
Ivy jumped up. “I’m sorry. Here I’m babbling on about me and have changed into dry clothes, but you’re sopping wet. Give me your clothes and I can put them in the dryer.”
“Eager to have me out of my clothes, ghrá?”
She swallowed. “Yes, but food first. And I need to find something for you to wear.” Tapping a finger to her mouth in thought, she then darted out of the room. Returning a few moments later, she handed Conn a plaid blanket. “I think it’s large enough to cover your…um…you know, your body.”
He leaned down near her ear. “And only you would know how large.”
Ivy’s eyes went wide. “Really? No others?”
None that were human. “Not as important,” he clarified.
Taking the offered plaid, Conn chuckled as he made his way into her bathroom. Stripping his clothes free, he wrapped the material around his waist. Proceeding out of the bathroom, he found the small closet with the washer and dryer. Placing the items inside, he turned it on.
The aroma of food enveloped him as he entered the kitchen, and his stomach protested.
Ivy laughed. “Hope you’re hungry for leftover vegetable soup and beer bread.” She glanced over her shoulder. Her mouth hung open, and then she snapped it shut. “Magnificent,” she muttered.
“Did you make it?” He peered over her shoulder, inhaling deeply.
She snorted in disgust. “Of course. I don’t eat all my meals at the Seven Swans. It will only be a few more moments. If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit by the fire and eat. There’s a fake fur rug in my bedroom, which is located on the far right of the hall. Would you mind fetching it and placing it by the fire?”
He kissed her behind the ear. “With pleasure.”
Leaving the kitchen, Conn hastened upstairs. When he entered her bedroom, he froze. In the corner of the room, set an easel, but it was the drawings on her dresser that captured his eye. Stepping closer, he brushed his fingers over the likeness of himself. A chill went through his body. The image was from long ago—the time when he took the oath of a Fenian Warrior. He stood before the crystal pillar and pledged his vow.
“Sometimes my imagination grows wild,” she uttered softly from the entrance.
“When did you draw this?” he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the drawing.
“The day after we met.” Ivy walked inside the room. “I believe it’s one of your ancestors.”
You’re wrong, Ivy. You have captured me at one of the most pivotal times in my life. “You have a powerful gift, lass.” He glanced at her sideways.
She hugged her arms around herself, moving closer. “I know. This one was extremely intense.”
What will you do when you find out they’re one and the same? Can you accept the Fae along with the man? Frustration slithered inside of Conn, but he quickly banished it. “Your talent at drawing is rare, as well.”
Smiling, she turned the sketch over. “I studied at the Art Institute in San Francisco. However, my true passion was history, so I left and got my degree in ancient history.” Lifting her head, she added, “And now I’m running the Celtic Knot.”
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “An admirable quality, too. I would like to hear more about your life.” Reaching for the fur, he walked out of her bedroom and descended the stairs.
“Oh no you don’t, mister.” Ivy poked him in the back. “You said you would share more about your life.”
Conn dumped the fur before the fire and grasped her around the waist. He kissed a path along her neck. “I believe my words were after I made love to every inch of your body.”
She pushed against his chest, though her eyes held desire for him. “No. Not one more kiss shall I grant you until you offer some morsel about yourself. Or two.”
Ivy dazzled him with her determination. Lifting one of her hands from his chest, he kissed each finger. “You win.”
Reaching up on her tiptoes, she kissed him, lingering, savoring every moment. Breaking free, she whispered, “Food first.”
He watched her saunter into the kitchen and return with two bowls. Handing them both to him, she strolled back to retrieve the bread and two bottles of beer.
They settled down in front of the blazing hearth and ate their meal in silence. Conn savored the richness of the broth—heavy with herbs and vegetables. Tearing off a piece of bread, he sopped up some of the liquid. “Delicious.”
“Just an old recipe,” she stated between mouthfuls.
“All praise to the cook, too.”
Conn placed his bowl down and reached for the beer. Taking a long swill, he gazed into the flames. Contentment and anxiety clawed at him. How much of his life did he want to share with Ivy? And where did one begin? Wiping his thumb around the rim of the bottle, he said, “My mother and father are still alive. I have one sister—a twin, though her hair is as black as night. I was raised in a place near the Hill of Tara. I have spent my life working at various jobs and positions—more as an advisor. I was schooled at the finest in the land.”
“Interesting. Never married?” she asked, wiping the crumbs from her mouth with a napkin.
“The opportunity didn’t present itself.” He hesitated briefly. “In my line of work, there is no room for a wife or a relationship. I am always moving from one place to the other.”
“Hmm…and now?”
Conn raked a hand through his hair. “I am at a crossroads in my life.”
“Am I a passing fancy until you set off on your new path?” she asked softly.
He glanced sharply at her. “No.”
Her faint smile held a touch of sadness. “Good. Though I feared you’d be gone come morning.”
Frowning, Conn reached for one of her hands. “This is new to me, Ivy. I am not one to bed a woman and leave the next day.” He shook his head, unable to explain further. How could he tell her that he only sought sexual pleasures in his own realm? Furthermore, they meant nothing to him, only a release.
She brought his hand to her lips and placed a kiss inside the palm. “I believe you’ve shared enough for today.”
His eyes roamed her face and a sudden urge to take her on the fur overtook him. “You are more beautiful than the stars.”
Scooting closer to him, Ivy brushed away a lock of hair from his face. “I am only one and there are many brilliant ones.”
“Ahh…but your beauty outshines them all.”
Blushing, she withdrew from his touch and stood. “There is something I’ve longed to do and I mentioned it in the woods. Stay right where you are.”
Swallowing the last of his beer, Conn followed her movements out of the room. Cleaning up the area, he placed the bowls and bottles on a nearby table.
Ivy returned carrying a large sketchpad and pencil. She had stripped free of her leggings causing his mouth to become dry. Her sweater dress barely covered her bottom, and his fingers itched to renew the path from her ankles to the secrets hidden under the material.
Tossing down several pillows, she made herself comfortable. “I would like to sketch you.”
Conn arched a brow seductively and tugged at the plaid. “With or without?”
Eyes that blazed with desire held his own. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to draw anything if you remove your plaid. Besides, I can already see your desire for other artistic activities.”
He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Later, mo ghrá.”
Flipping back the cover, she smiled. “Definitely.”
“And the pose?”
Gesturing with her hand, she replied, “I don’t like forced poses, and you have a strong profile. So turn back toward the fire, with one knee bent and arms clasping the knee.”
He eyed her skeptically. “Anything else?”
Ivy tapped a finger to her mouth. “Please stay silent.”
“Your wish is my command.” Turning his attention to the flames, Conn let his mind drift. An entire life had been spent learning rules and preparation. He was a chiseled and hardened warrior, not one for softness. His world was unknown to Ivy—she a mere lass that slipped under centuries of training. Why did he let it happen? He had walked blindly into her life, unprepared for the consequences. Words from an old friend came back to haunt him. Did not his mentor, Aidan Kerrigan, warn him to always be on guard with the humans? Nonetheless, the Fenian Warrior ignored his own guidance and married a human.
Conn stole a glance at Ivy. Her hand glided over the paper, while she bit her lip in concentration. Turning his sight once again to the flames, he realized that none of it mattered anymore. When the heart of a Fae opens to true love, there is no turning back. Bleakness and despair will follow if a Fae fights against the inevitable.
However, another realization slammed into him. What about the lass from centuries past? Did she not deserve a chance of freedom and love? If he changed one thread on the loom, would it change Ivy’s fate?
His fists clenched. Conn had never considered his plan thoroughly. His mind and heart screamed at him—a battle of rights and wrongs. To undo an injustice, he stood the risk of losing the one woman who had captured his heart—Ivy.
There had to be another way.
“Conn?” Ivy’s soft touch splintered through his dark thoughts.
He blinked and grabbed her around the waist. Desire drummed in every cell of his body. It built like a storm—a dizzying current racing through him. The thought of losing her fractured a part of his very soul.
She angled her head toward him, the glow of the firelight illuminating her features. “What troubles you?”
“Battles yet to be fought,” he responded and then took her mouth with savage intensity.
Conn let out a groan when her tongue darted inside, dueling with his. The kiss spiraled through his veins, and he battled not to take her swiftly. Slipping one hand along her thigh, his fingers brushed against her soft curls, eliciting a cry from Ivy. He stroked between her folds, teasing, tormenting her. Her pleas turned to whimpers and Conn tried to be gentle, but his blood roared within his body.
Breaking free from the kiss, Conn tossed aside his plaid and swiftly removed Ivy’s dress. She reached out to touch his swollen cock, but he tossed her back on the fur rug. “No,” he growled in protest.
He leaned over her, his love—all his. Words spilled forth—ancient, claiming her in a ritual as old as time. Ivy lured him forward with her own words and outstretched hands. Searing a path down her neck with his lips, he thrust deeply inside of her. Her heat surrounded him. Withdrawing slowly, he slammed back into her. The pleasure so exquisite, he cared not if the world around them had burned to ashes.
When the wave crested, Conn soared, taking Ivy’s passion and desire with him. Stars opened and moonlight cast her glow on the lovers. Her cry of release echoed his and for several moments, the world dissolved around them.
As Conn held Ivy’s quaking body, he whispered the sacred words in an ancient language—words he vowed to never speak, and he hoped she would comprehend the meaning, for he could not utter them in her language. Until the mists descend and I depart from this life to the next, you shall have a part of me. I weave my love freely—heart to soul, soul to heart. I bind you with these words to me always. We shall walk in the land of forever as one love.
Pain sliced through his chest, leaving him temporarily unable to breathe. When the last remnants faded away, he rolled onto his back, bringing Ivy against his side.
The flames snapped, the only sound in the room. Conn’s eyelids grew heavy, beckoning his body and mind to slumber.
Right before sleep lured him away to its peaceful abyss, Conn heard her soft whisper echo in the room, “I love you.”