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The darkened house came into view and she sighed shakily. She began to slow down, relaxing at the sight of the light burning in the front window.
One of the grinning creatures leapt out in front of her jeep. Emma moaned and stomped hard on the accelerator, then gagged as the vehicle lurched and bumped over the thing with a screech and a loud thump. Skidding to a stop, she threw open the door and stumbled out of the jeep.
* * * * * *
The Puca wandered into the library and switched on the light. He stood at the window and stared into the night. Turning at the faint sound behind him, he saw Pin in her huge brown robe. “I can’t sense her, Mother, she’s closed herself to me, she has,” he said, his voice bleak.
Pin reached up and laid her hand on Kian’s arm.
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“She’s th-thinking to d-do, she’ll b-be back.”
“But will she be coming back for me?” he asked sadly.
Pin moved to stand next to her son and watch out the window with him, unable to give him the comfort of an answer.
Kian heard Pin yawn and smiled fondly. He turned to tell her to go back to bed. The breeze brought a whiff of something dank and dead, a stench he knew from old. His stomach knotted up with revulsion. Red Caps were close by. And if they were near, then Finvarra would not be far.
The Puca’s heart jerked painfully with the thought of Emma alone in the dark facing the killers Finvarra used as his guard.
Pin gasped and Kian looked where she was pointing. Headlights were rapidly drawing closer. He recognized the sound of Emma’s jeep and an icy wave of relief washed through him. Pin hissed and he saw the Redcap as it leapt in front of the speeding vehicle.
“Ah, that’s my girl,” he said his voice full of pride as Emma ran the creature down. He ran for the door, bursting through and flying down the front steps toward the jeep as it lurched to a stop. The driver’s door opened, and Emma tumbled out into his arms.
Emma gasped and turned to fight the hands that caught her as she fell. The warm, sweet scent of the Puca reached through the fog of terror and she wrapped her arms around Kian, bursting into tears of relief. “Oh, Kian, they were everywhere, and I didn’t 192
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know what to do,” she said into his chest.
“Ah, hush, my sweet, you did best by running, so you did, my brave love.” He hurried her into the house and gave her over to Pin. “I’ll just be sure there’s naught else around,” he said as he turned and flowed like shimmering water into the form most suited for battle with the evil Red Caps. The bear moved purposefully into the woods at the edge of the yard.
Pin bustled Emma into the kitchen where a bleary eyed Tilly busied herself with making tea. “Y-you sit an-and relax n-now,” Pin said sternly. “You’re s-safe now.”
“What were those awful things?” Emma asked. She gratefully took a cup of tea from Tilly.
“R-red Caps,” Pin said and shivered. “Y-you’d b-best be as-asking K-kian.”
“But...” Emma protested, looking from Pin to Tilly.
“Aye, you’ve a right to know, be asking Kian the whole of it,” Tilly said.
Emma looked at the Brownies’ solemn faces a long moment. She would ask him, starting with the woman in the library and finishing with what was going on. Standing slowly, she nodded at the Brownies. “I think I will go to my room and get cleaned up. Please tell Kian I would like to see him when he gets back.”
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Chapter Nineteen
mma carried her tea with her to her bedroom and Eswitched on the light. She set the cup down and began to unbutton her torn and dirty dress, tossing it into the little wastebasket beside the dresser. A few short minutes later, she was wrapped in her robe and running a hot bath, trying to ignore the knot of worry in her stomach.
She heard his boot heels as he walked down the hall. Carefully adding the foaming bath oil to the hot water, she pretended not to notice him standing in the doorway watching her. Emma waited for Kian to do or say something, her stomach fluttering.
“Emma, my love,” he began with a deep sigh.
“There is little in my life that I hold precious.”
Emma walked over to him and touched her fingers to his lips, stilling his pain-filled voice. Suddenly everything was clear, and she knew what she had to do. “There is room for two if you would like to join me,” she said softly.
“Emma, I—” he began again.
“Shh, give me this night. There will be time enough later to say what needs to be said.”
“Aye, tonight,” he said. It was more than he had hoped for.
He followed her into the bath. Silently he picked 194
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up the bath sponge, only to have her take it from him.
She soaked it in the steaming water and slowly, carefully began to wash his shoulders and chest. Kian watched her hypnotic movements, the tension in his body melting away. His eyes drifted closed and he leaned his head back against the rim of the old claw foot tub.
Emma dropped the sponge and took Kian’s hands.
She stood and stepped out of the bath, pulling him to his feet. He followed her, bemused, a docile and biddable lover. Emma led him to her bed and stopped. The glint of mischief in her eye was his only warning before she pushed him back onto the bed.
She straddled him and leaned down to kiss him.
When he tried to return her kiss, she pulled back out of reach.
“Oh no, I’m in charge right now,” she said.
“Emma,” he said, “what are you playing at?”
“I’m not playing,” she answered, her voice husky.
She took advantage of his confusion and quickly tied his hands.
He watched her, his eyes darkening as he remembered the afternoon she had tied his hands.
When she tied him to the headboard rails, his mouth went dry and he felt a tiny curl of uncertainty mixed with his excitement. When she tied the blindfold over his eyes, he swallowed hard and tried to breathe.
She began to do things to him then he had no name for. Never knowing just where or when she would touch him had his nerves singing. He could not form a coherent thought with her hands and mouth 195
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moving over him.
Suddenly he gasped harshly and threw his head back, arching his back, lifting his hips off the bed and straining against the ties that bound his hands and feet to the bed.
Slowly he relaxed, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. He opened his mouth and sucked in another harsh gasp, arching his back again and grabbing hold of the headboard rails hard. He clenched his jaw and rolled his head from side to side, his breath hissing through his teeth.
He arched himself off the bed once more and gripped the headboard rails with sweat-slicked hands, unable to hold back the long low groan. His hips jerked and he caught the distinct scent of strawberries as the world shattered into a million shards.
He lay there and tried to catch his breath, his thoughts still flying in a thousand directions at once.
“Emma,” he said when he could form words again,
“untie me now. Please, love?” He felt the mattress dip beside him and his hands being released. He pulled her into his arms and held her close.
* * * * * *
They lay in the tangled and damp sheets, sated for the moment. Emma traced her finger over Kian’s full lips.
“Who was that woman in the library this evening?”
“That was Donagh, Queen of the Daoine Sidhe. She came to warn me of Finvarra’s plan to confront me.
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He’ll kill me if he’s a chance to.” Kian caught her hand and kissed the palm.
“Why?”
“He’s an evil creature that takes joy in preying on young women about to be married. Its mischief and mayhem are his chief pleasures. I interfered to pay a debt and save a lady’s honor. For that he would kill me.”
“Oh no, my love, a sweet young lady who did me a service long ago. I repaid my debt and was sentenced to die. Donagh did naught but stop the execution in gratitude for stopping her pig of a husband from shaming her. She sent me to exile, to roam the earth forever, never to return to Tara.”
“But—” Emma began.
“It was many years ago, my love, and not a thing to worry your pretty head over.”
“Tell me. Everything,” she said.
He looked at her for the space of several heartbeats, then took a deep breath and sighed. “Aye, you’ve a right to know.” He gently wound a long strand of silky, honey-gold hair around his fingers, letting it slide through them and fall back only to repeat the gesture.
“Once upon a time, a very long time ago, a young Puca made a mistake,” he began slowly.
She listened to his story, resting her head on his shoulder. By the end of his story, his voice had dropped to a whisper.
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wandered ever since because I came to this place and found Miss Chloe and she brought me you,” he said.
Emma rested her head against his chest and sighed. “She said she wanted you to come back to Tara with her.”
“Ah, that she did,” he agreed with a smile and a kiss to her wrist.
“And?” Emma asked, dreading the answer.
“And I said I could not leave my heart and the breath of my life,” he said, kissing the inside of her elbow and then her shoulder as he shifted until she was beneath him. “Nor does Tara hold anything more precious than my sweet Emma to tempt me back.”
“You turned her down?” She shifted and slipped her arms around him.
“I did.” He melted into her with a deep sigh of pleasure and satisfaction.
“Kian,” Emma said breathlessly.
“What, my love?” He asked intent on loving her.
“Love me,” she moaned softly, tangling her fingers in his hair.
“With all I have,” he whispered, his breath catching.
This time their passion was slow and sweet, the joining of two hearts that had found refuge in each other.
* * * * * *
Emma opened her eyes slowly, looking straight into the mossy depths of Kian’s eyes. His eyes brightened 198
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and crinkled at the edges with happiness. She could not help but smile back at the Puca leaning on his elbow above her. The warm weight of his arm across her waist and his leg over hers was comforting, giving her a feeling of safety and protection.
“Good morning, my love,” he said, leaning forward and brushing the tip of her nose with a kiss.
“The floor is cold and you are warm.”
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said, reaching up and touching his cheek, “and when are you going to stay with me and keep warm?” She slipped her other arm around his waist and raised her head off the pillow, giving him a quick kiss.
“One day, love, when it is safe and I have no fear of harming you,” he answered.
“You won’t.”
“I cannot be certain, some things must follow their nature,” he snuggled closer.
“I trust you,” Emma began.
Kian leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Not until it is time, Emma,” he whispered.
“Hmmm?” She slid her hand down over his hip, encountering an area of slightly raised skin. “What’s this?” she asked, tracing her fingers over the design.
Kian growled softly, shifting against her. “Ah, love, an old brand from many years ago.”
“A brand!” Emma tried to sit up.
Kian pushed her back. “Hush, it was a very long time ago love and far away.”
“How long?” Emma asked continuing her slow 199
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exploration of his warm, velvet-soft skin.
“Ah, Emma, 1872, during a cattle drive,” he groaned softly, burying his face in the hair at her neck.
“1872? How old are you?” Emma asked wide-eyed, her hand stopping its movement.
“Emma, don’t be teasing a poor old Puca,” the Puca whined.
“How old?” Emma chuckled softly and slid her hands over his hips, then raked her nails up his sides.
Kian gasped and groaned. “Eight hundred and seventeen,” he whispered, his voice tight with lust,
“but who’s counting?”
“Oh, my,” Emma said breathlessly. She arched her hips toward him, pulling him closer.
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Chapter Twenty
t was still night, just before dawn and quiet. Even I the birds were silent. Tilly and Pin were nowhere to be seen, and Kian had merely buried his face in her pillow when she slipped out of bed. Emma looked out at the cutting garden. In the fog, it looked mysterious and otherworldly. She smiled, picking up her basket and heading outside.
Glowing red eyes watched as Emma carefully chose flowers and cut them. The small creatures scurried through the tall plants until they were within striking distance. A long, skinny arm reached out and bony fingers clutched at the skirt of Emma’s pink sundress. She gasped and turned, looking down into beady red eyes filled with hatred. Before she could open her mouth to scream, the skeletal creature clapped its hand over her mouth and muttered a string of nonsense words. A black despair rose up inside her like a shriek, pulling her down into unconsciousness.
Finvarra smiled grimly, watching from his hiding place behind the woodshed. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, the place smelled of foul Puca. The human woman was pleasant enough in her appearance, he thought, looking at his prize. Despoiling her would be a pleasure made even greater by the fact that she had 201
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been chosen as life mate by the filthy interfering Puca.
Revenge was truly a sweet to be savored. He waved his hand, and they disappeared in a shimmer of oily black fog.
* * * * * *
Kian woke with a violent start. The nightmare dissipated, but he could not shake the memory of the scream that hovered just out of hearing. He reached for Emma; her presence and the touch of her soft skin would soothe away the feeling of dread that settled on him.
The place where she had slept was cool. Sitting up, he threw the covers back and leapt out of bed. He flowed into his wolfhound form and sped through the house, searching for her.
In the kitchen, Kian discovered Tilly and Pin asleep at the kitchen table and the door to the back gardens standing open. A breeze stirred the air and he caught the dank scent of Boggles and a familiar sickly sweet stench that raised the hackles on his neck. Finvarra was somewhere near, or had been recently. A sick, cold feeling gripped him and his stomach churned.
He bounded out the door and stopped in the middle of the yard. Turning slowly, he surveyed the area, his head expecting to find what his heart feared most. Emma was nowhere to be seen. He breathed a sigh of short-lived relief. If she was not there, then the possibility that she was still alive grew and he had a chance. Silently he cursed his Fairy blood. If he were 202
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human, he would never have brought such danger to his precious Emma.
Kian wandered through the gardens, following Emma’s soft lavender and honeysuckle scent. His stomach clenched and desire flowed over him like warm honey. He arrived at the cutting garden and sat down in front of the overturned basket and spilled flowers. Gently setting the basket upright, he put the flowers back into it before picking it up in his mouth and carrying it back to the house.
Kian walked up to Pin and nudged her, whining softly. She woke and looked around in confusion for a few seconds. Kian nudged her again and she took the basket from his mouth.
“Wh-what are y-you do-doing with th-this?” Pin asked.
Kian lifted a paw and laid it on her arm. Pin’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her free hand. Her son turned and took a
slow step toward the hallway. By the third step he broke into a run, disappearing down the hall toward the room he had begun sharing with Emma just a few days earlier.
Pin went to Tilly and shook her awake, tears in her eyes. “T-til-tilly, some-something dre-dreadful has hap-happened,” she said.
“What,” Tilly began. She broke off as a heartrending howl split the silence of the house.
“Em-emma has-has been tak-taken,” Pin said her voice bleak.
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wrote a note on a scrap of paper and went out to the garden. She stood very still and waited for several minutes. Finally a filmy bit of color shimmered before her. After a brief silent communication, the Fairy sped off, leaving a trail of pink sparks that dissipated on the warm breeze.
Kian lay on the bed where he had made love to Emma just a few hours before, her nightdress clutched to his chest. He thought things through and pondered all his options. All he could do at the moment was wait for Finvarra to contact him. He was sure it would be fairly soon; the evil elf had no patience. Kian chuckled bitterly. The last seven hundred plus years must have driven Finvarra absolutely insane with frustration.
* * * * * *
Emma woke, opening her eyes to a dimly lit room that smelled of damp and mildew and acrid smoke.