Not the only surprise he’d experienced in Siobhan’s care. He studied her as she darted between the simmering pot over the fire, and chopping vegetables on the plank table that dominated her small kitchen. Spending life with nobility of the feminine persuasion, he’d forgotten that some women lived without servants at their beck and call.
“Why won’t you look at me?” His chest ached. Magick help or no, the wound had torn through muscle and cracked a rib during two changes. His torso was wrapped in strips of fabric Siobhan had taken from an elaborate dress in stark contrast to this modest, quaint cottage.
Where had she procured the fine fabrics? Better yet, how’d she so offhandedly destroyed the lace and silks?
“I am cooking.” To drive her point home, she dumped a handful of onion into the bubbling pot.
“And the rest of the time?”
“I do not lollygag often. Nor do I stare at strangers.”
“Come, Siobhan. It has been two days since you found me. Surely you want some insight into what you’ve witnessed.”
She gave him her profile, one delicate blonde brow poised high over her cherry, mauve and light pink eyes. The firelight reflected on her blonde hair streaked with leaf green that revealed her delicate pointed ears.
She swallowed nervously. “We are fae. What I’ve seen means nothing.”
“When was the last time you watched a dragon transform into a Sidhe?” he said sharply.
“I’ll admit I haven’t.” Her voice shook, much as it had the first time he’d broached the subject.
Guilt flashed through him, and he sagged. “I apologize if I’ve frightened you. Allowing me into your home while I heal is very generous of you. I do not wish to cause you ill.”
She shrugged, and finally, bless the Goddess, met his intent gaze. She straightened, pride in the lines of her body. Magick sizzled across her bare arms. “I am not frightened of you. If you had given me any reason to suspect differently, I’d have thrown you out by sheer force of will in a hairsbreadth.”
His lips twitched into a smile, then a laugh. The action sent small shocks through his abused body. He didn’t care.
“Strong words.”
At her sides, her fingers curled. Her expression hardened. “I assure you, Fallon, I am not weak or powerless.”
“Of that, dear lady, I know. Your healing alone is exceptional.”
She sneered, a bare hint of gnashed teeth. “Healing is not my only strong point.” The magick leapt to life, poised. The noise of the crackling fire and bubbling brew ceased to be. Not even a peep from the chirping birds that hopped on the branches outside the window. The deafening silence muddled his senses: he barely comprehended the danger to himself.
He forced himself to bite back the pain. Slowly not to startle her, he sat up in his sickbed. “Calm yourself, Siobhan. I’ve told you, I mean you no harm.”
“You better not,” she hissed. The power glowed from within her, as if fighting to escape. Never had he witnessed a display of control over the elemental powers she commanded with such ease. “I can flatten you and this cottage with little more than a thought.”
The air thickened to the point of molasses. His lungs ached to draw breathe. The passage of time moved just as slow. He kept his serene, innocent expression, despite his growing trepidation. Siobhan wasn’t a normal practitioner. Had the Queen known of her existence, her freedom would end. She’d be put to work as a weapon. “I have no doubt now. I was wrong, my lady. Forgive my impertinence to have displeased you so.”
The tightness in her limbs abated. Sound returned in small increments, the atmosphere lightened. Sweet Goddess, he almost pitied anyone unintelligent enough to have Siobhan as an enemy.
Who was she, this ethereal beauty who lived alone in the wilds? He dared not ask the burning question.
“I apologize,” she said tightly. “I do not normally lose my temper. I have no care for those who underestimate me.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Fallon said, truth ringing in his tone. He planted his hand against the mattress to support himself as he slumped with relief.
Siobhan whirled, her long skirts—mauve today—danced at her heels. The beaded trim tinkled a subtle tune.
* * * *
Dearg plastered himself to trunk of a live oak, branches dipping to the Earth, better to hide him from the Knights.
How unfortunately persistent they were. The troops quartered the area in twos. But they hadn’t possessed the senses of a true predator. Since Dearg had been cursed alongside Fallon, his sight and hearing became unfathomable. Everything tasted acute. He’d picked apart the array of spices in the roasted meats and small pies at court, confounded by the complexity of flavors. In his other form, he’d hunted animals three times the size of his elfin self.
If they’d move on, he’d continue his tracking in peace. Finally, he’d scented Fallon in a small, ravaged clearing. And he hadn’t been alone. A female’s trail masked his friend’s. Where had she taken him?
“This is where he fell,” Garbhan snapped.
“He cannot have gone far,” Neasan called across the clearing. “The archers shot enough arrows in his hide to bleed him out.”
The Captain of the Queen’s Knight snickered. “And they all lay in a pile. Every one. He couldn’t remove them himself.”
“Dearg must be with him.”
“No. It was another. I smell old magick in these woods, and the reek isn’t Dearg’s doing. He is no practitioner of the ancient arts.”
Dearg peeked around the branches. Had a sorceress captured Fallon? What had she planned to do with him? New resolve filled him. If she meant him harm, no amount of magickal skill would protect her.
He’d planned to attack the Knights, but now, they weren’t the only enemies in these woods. He swore beneath his breath, and lowered himself onto his belly. He crawled for no one. No one but Fallon.
* * * *
Siobhan frowned, helpless in her ability to make small talk social situations called for. Fallon finished his stew, and rinsed out the wooden bowl in the bucket of fresh spring water. He said nothing, as he went through the front door.
Her heart jumped into her throat. He left, just like that? Who could blame him, after how she’d treated him?
She fidgeted. For the first time, in a very long time, she was vulnerable to her own pride. Living alone for the past two years had made her inhospitable to outsiders. Living among the Seelie court for centuries had forced her to develop enough suspicions to fill a lake, and kindness to dominate half a thimble.
She stretched the crick in her back. A series of clomps brought her light footed to the door. Axe high, Fallon arched over a wide stump in her garden. He brought the blade down on a poised chunk of wood, cleaving the knotty pine into two, clean pieces.
Luna sat upon his shoulder, thin legs swaying back and forth to a tune only she knew.
Her breath caught at the sight of the pair. Sidhe so rarely paid attention to the wee fae that populated the lands. Considered barely more than insects, Pixies spent more time dodging abuse than any other race. That Fallon allowed one to touch him was a marvel indeed.
Surely if her Pixie trusted him so easily, he had merit. He smiled down at her, as he collected another log from the pile Siobhan had meant to split days ago—before he’d come. Sometimes, she preferred a natural fire to a magickal one.
The alabaster skin above and below his bandage glistened with slick sweat. Every once in a while, he winced when he used too much pressure.
The sunlight threw chaotic cerulean in his long, thick hair. Each ring of his iris clearly struck her: inner aqua, middle sapphire, and the outer circle a startling emerald. Low on his hips was a pair of midnight trousers she’d fastened out of bits of magick and glamour.
He should’ve looked a primal thing, so strong and untamable, if not for the half smile as he hummed alongside Luna.
He spilt another piece, and cringed.
“You’re exerting yourself too much.” She hurried across the garden. “The muscles have yet to heal.”
He stiffened. “I do not care to be caught unaware.”
“You are in my garden. I merely came outside to see what the noise is about.”
His eyes leapt with blue fire for a moment that died when she stopped in front of him. What pride he had! Wounded at that.
“Have I offended you by my chores?”
“No. I merely pointed out that it’s too soon for exercise.”
He rolled his shoulders. “I am not a man to sit idly when there’s work to be done, injured or no.”
“Then you’re a fool,” she chided gently. “I can spell a fire quicker than you can cut all these logs.”
Fallon dropped the axe, and a startled Luna gave wing to the wind. He stepped well into her personal space. She struggled to keep her composed expression, rejecting the thrill that worked her spine like a bandolin.
“I do not take kindly to being called a fool,” he growled low. “Do you ever have anything nice to say?”
Up close, he was a masterpiece to behold. His spicy scent filled her senses, making her aware of her femininity. Inwardly, she swore. When was the last time a man had turned her head, let alone affected her this way?
“Offended by truth?”
“I’m offended that you believe I cannot handle myself, any better than your earlier tantrum displayed. I am regarded in fear by many.”
“I am not within the many. I am but one woman, who has risen above the rest.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Aren’t you the personification of arrogance?”
“You are one to talk. Arrogance drips off of you like rainwater after a summer storm.”
“Are you always this brash?”
“When the mood strikes me. Though I’m not around people enough to tell for sure, one way or the other. Perhaps you are the exception. Let us wait until more dragon shifters to fall from the sky, and do a comparison.”
“I doubt they’d stand your presence.”
“You did,” she said snidely. “Then again, you were half dead.” She waved at the gate, ignoring the twinge deep in her chest. “You’re not anymore, and there is the way out. If I am so difficult to be around, leave.”
“Is this a habit of yours, pushing people away?”
She refused to answer. She crossed her arms, and arched her head.
He pressed well into her space, nose only a few centimeters from hers. “Why are you out here all alone?”
“I find the company easier to keep.”
The skin around his eyes crinkled as he frowned. Most of the anger in his eyes faded. “Egad, woman, you are enough to try a patient man to madness.”
Smug, she nodded. “Then my mission here is complete.”
“I could easily wipe that smirk from your face.”
Siobhan snorted, shifted to clamp her hands on her hips. Anything to release the nervous energy. “And how do you propose to do—”
He hadn’t given her time to blink. His mouth lowered against hers, no preliminaries, diving into searing fire that unsettled her soul. For a man his size, his lips were petal soft even with the constant pressure. His tongue ran a wet line across her lower lip, and she gasped. He took advantage, swiping inside of her mouth. His arms banded around her back, dragging her to his chest.
An eternity since another touched her, and certainly never this devastated by just a kiss! Inside, she melted, but outwardly, she pushed against him to no effect. His hands bunched in her dress, curving around the boning of her corset beneath.
The crunch of grass should’ve alerted her muddled brain, but she was too caught up.
“Well isn’t this convenient.”
Fallon relaxed his grip, his face lifting, expression dazed, though not alarmed. Not like hers.
No, no, no! The drawl of the newcomer was familiar, instantly she remembered the infliction.
There he was, leaning against the opening in the wall, hip cocked, finger curled over the edge, knuckled bleached. His expression revealed nothing. Dearg had always excelled at court politics.
Her heated blood thickened, coagulated in her veins. She flew out of Fallon’s arms, and fell on her backside in the dirt. Her gaze skittered across the lawn, up the stone wall, over the trailing ivy, meeting the tri-colored gaze of lemon yellow, metallic gold, and dark crimson, reminiscent of freshly spilled blood.
That might soon be reflected off her own flesh.
She scrambled back, until she collided with the cottage wall. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stop a scream of denial. They’d found her. She suspected with Fallon, quickly discarding the notion. Now, she knew beyond doubt.
“Dearg,” she whimpered.
Fallon turned on her. “You know him?”
“Oh, she does. As do you, Fallon, in a way,” Dearg murmured silkily. “Meet the missing Duchess of the Seelie court, Siobhan MacCongail.” He paused. “And you, dear friend, just kissed her.”
ns 18.68.41.177da2
