Faerie Fate (24 page)

She smiled into the
hollow of his chest, and he felt her lips as they curled into that smile.

“How long before we
can do that again?” Her voice was muffled against his warm skin.

He pushed up onto
his elbows, arching his back so he could see her face. His expression
registered his shock. “What did you just say?”

Her fingers trailed
down his sides to find the hard muscles of his buttocks. She caressed and
petted him while she flexed her inner muscles and squirmed. “You heard me,” she
replied, grinning so wide her dimple added a period to her words. “When can you
do that again?” Her hands traced the wicked scar slicing across his back. Becca
winced. She’d come so close to losing him to that wound. She kissed him, a
furious barrage of kisses meant to erase that sight from her memory forever.
She would forbid him from ever going to war again. In fact, she was never going
to let him out of her bed.

Ciaran’s shaft grew
hard within her. He blinked, amazed he could. Moments ago, he’d felt so sated,
so completely satisfied that he’d wanted nothing more than to gather her into
his arms and sleep. She arched her hips against him.

“Well?” she
demanded.

Stunned, he wasn’t
ready for her next move. Before he could react, she rolled them over so he was
on his back, and she was astride him.
By the gods, but she is beautiful
.
Her golden hair danced with silver highlights, and her cerulean eyes twinkled
in the candlelight. Broad shoulders many a lad would envy tapered to her
glorious breasts—full, firm, with rosy nipples beckoning for his mouth to
taste. Her long waist nipped in below her ribs then flared to those wonderful
hips made to hold him. Then came her long, lithe legs now curled beneath her so
she could rock on her knees. She drove him wild with delight.

As Becca swayed
above him, he watched in rapt fascination as their bodies joined together. The
nest of her golden curls teased the jet-black fur surrounding his
boidín
.
He reached up to cup her breasts in his rough hands. Becca moaned and leaned
into them, her taut nipples rubbing against his palms.

Ciaran let her set
her own pace. The first time had been for them both. This time was for her. She
rode him, setting the pace of a gentle canter—slow, rolling, her eyes closed,
her face set with a tender expression. She took one of his hands and guided it
between her legs. Ciaran smiled. Virgin she might have been, but his Becca
definitely knew what she wanted. His hand splayed across her golden down as his
thumb found her secret nub. He touched her, and every muscle in her body
tensed. He cried out his own pleasure as her sheath tightened around him. Now
she rode him hard, almost desperate as she rocked against his thumb while her
muscles flexed and squeezed his shaft. They both panted, so close to the edge
that a gentle breeze could have blown them over the cliff.

“I love you, Becca.”

That was all it
took. Becca collapsed on his chest, her body shuddering and trembling as a
major earthquake and myriad aftershocks rocked her body. Ciaran pumped his seed
into her once again, his shaft throbbing and pulsing with life.

“I love you more
than life,” Becca whispered against his throat, exhaustion starting to claim
her.

When he finally
slipped from her body, she gave a little moan of protest. Her body nudged
against his, seeking to draw him back inside her. He smiled and settled her
against his side. With his free hand, he found the bedcovers and pulled them
up. She was really and truly his now.

Becca’s eyelashes
fluttered over her cheeks. “And forever.” She was asleep before the last
syllable passed her lips.

Chapter Twenty

Ciaran nuzzled the
back of Becca’s neck where soft skin met silken hair. She snuggled back against
him and sighed in her sleep. His
boidín
nestled between the cheeks of
her
tóin
and grew hard as his hand splayed across her rounded abdomen
possessively. When the tiny being growing inside retaliated with a kick, Ciaran
grinned.

“Aye, a fine, strong
son,” he murmured into Becca’s hair.

“Don’t count on it,”
she mumbled. The caustic tone of her voice was not lost on him. “Could just as
well be a girl.”

He laughed out loud.
“Oh, aye, it could. Any daughter of yours
’
twould be more than likely to
kick the hand that feeds her.”

She wriggled her
bottom. His immediate reaction brought a smile to her face. “Well, you aren’t
feeding her...or my hunger either, for that matter. I should kick you, too.”

His hand caressed
her swollen stomach, then trailed up to cup a full, round breast. “Do you
hunger for me, cailín?” he growled in her ear.

A delicious shiver
danced down her spine to settle in her toes. She flexed her buttocks and was
rewarded by his sharp intake of breath.

“Nay,” she
protested. “I don’t hunger for you.” She dismissed him airily, then squeezed
again for effect. “I hunger for
him.
” She batted her lashes and purred.

He laughed and
shifted her in his arms so that she was propped on her elbows, and her knees
were drawn up beneath her. He grabbed a pillow, one of the innovations she’d
added to their life, and stuffed it in under the top of her thighs. He
positioned himself behind her, his
boidín
playfully rubbing against the
crease between her cheeks. A little moan escaped her throat as she pushed back
against him.

His long fingers
teased the soft folds between her thighs. He tested her readiness and found her
hot and wet. With a growl, the dark wolf of the MacDermot claimed his mate,
driving into her very core. She pushed back against him, frantic to drive him
deeper.

“Easy, cailín,” he
soothed. “The babe.”

“Making love with
you will not hurt the baby,” Becca promised him as she pushed and squirmed.

He wrapped one
massive arm around her middle and held her, his other hand caressing her hip.
She made little mewling noises in her throat. He pushed into her again and
again as she bucked back against him. Her inner muscles contracted, and then a
shudder ran through her. He drove into her one more time, and shooting stars
exploded in his brain as his seed pumped into her. She convulsively contracted
around his pulsing cock, as shudder after shudder rocked her body.

At last, she drew a
long, shaky breath and collapsed onto the bed. He followed her down and
gathered her into his arms. Her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, her
one leg thrown possessively across his middle. His fingers idly combed the
tangles in her hair. After a few minutes, their hearts regained a normal
rhythm, and their breathing slowed.

“Love of my heart,”
he murmured.

“Light of my life,”
she replied. The baby kicked again, and she gasped.

“Son,” Ciaran
asserted.

“Daughter,” Becca
avowed.

****

The months flew
swiftly, and life at Ailfenn was good. Both the O’Neills and the O’Briens
stayed within their own lands. Snow fell on the winter solstice as the Yule log
burned merrily in the hearth, the white flakes softening the bleak winter
landscape. In time, the dark days of winter grew longer and spring began to
awaken the land.

Albun Eiler
, the spring solstice, dawned warm and bright, and
Ciaran smiled at his wife, as she lay snuggled in his arms. “One year,” he
whispered into her silken hair. “You came to me one year ago.”

“Yeah, and if I
remember correctly, you wanted to kill me,” Becca reminded him, an arched brow
and sarcastic tone making her point.

“Nay, cailín,” he
insisted. “
’
Twould have been like cutting out my own heart. I loved you.
Loved you the first moment you opened your eyes and looked into mine.”

She kissed his chest.
“You’re just saying that to keep your pregnant wife happy.”

With a gentle
finger, he tipped her chin so she had to look up at his face. His indigo eyes,
normally as dark and stormy as the sea, softened to cobalt. His mouth sought
hers and he kissed her, his lips gently nibbling hers. “I will do whatever it
takes to make you happy, Becca. You are a gift. One I almost lost, and one I
cherish the more for it. I will not lose you again.” His voice was thick with
emotion.

Becca sighed happily
and snuggled closer to the warmth of his body. It might be March twenty-first,
but the air was chilly, and the fire had burned down to gray embers. “It’s my
birthday,” she announced. “I’m fifty-one.”

Ciaran snorted.

“Well, technically,
I am,” she retorted.

A soft tap at the
door postponed his teasing. “Yes?” he called instead.

“
’
Tis Alys,”
a timid voice called from the other side of the door. “Come to stir up the
fire.”

“Come in.”

The little maid
scurried about laying wood kindling before poking up the dying embers. She
added some logs, and soon the fire crackled, spreading warmth throughout the
room. She bobbed a little curtsy and hurried out the door. Ciaran was too busy
kissing Becca to notice the look on Alys’s face. The little maid’s dimples made
deep divots in her cheeks.

“All is well,” she
whispered to the shadows in the hallway.

Spring arrived in
all her glory. Flowers nodding in the gentle breezes dotted the meadows, and
lambs cavorted around their fat, wooly mothers. Cattle chewed their cud
contentedly, and grain crops stretched green stalks to the warm, blue sky.
Spring soon bowed out to welcome the warm days of summer.

Becca grew larger
and more cantankerous with each passing day. Although Ciaran was fascinated by
the changes to her body, she felt fat and unattractive no matter how he tried
to soothe her.

Siobhan talked to
him about the moods a woman endured. She even had Niall talk to him, but he
still fretted. He loved her dearly, and it distressed him that she thought he
might not.

The last sennight of
July grew busy as tinkers and traders arrived to set up their tents and offer
their wares. Most of the clann arrived to celebrate the Festival of Light,
anticipating the birth of
An Taoiseac’s
first child. Had Becca
discovered the number of wagers being made on the gender of the child and the
date of its birth, she would have been mortified...or laying bets herself.
People arrived from far and wide to honor Ciaran and his lady on this
Lughnasadh
.

On the first day of
August, he insisted she accompany him to the green. She protested, saying it
was too far to walk. He offered to get a cart or carry her himself. She
demurred, saying she had nothing to wear. Siobhan appeared with a new linen
gown in shimmering shades of blue and green. Becca balked just because.

“I am as big as a
house, Ciaran. I don’t want anyone to see me like this,” she grumbled.

He pulled her into
his arms and kissed her, his lips and tongue teasing her mouth. When she
finally relented a little, his tongue darted into her mouth. He kissed her long
and hard, leaving them both breathless.

She leaned against
him, needing him and wanting him in much more than just a physical sense,
though she couldn’t wait to renew that aspect of their relationship, too. This
man was her strength and her stability. Even when she was the biggest shrew in
the country, he kissed her, held her, and told her how beautiful she was.

“I wish yee could
see yerself through my eyes, cailín,” he whispered into her hair. “Yee could be
as big as the castle itself, and I wouldn’t care.” He ran his hands across her
body. He’d memorized every curve, every secret place, and he loved all of her.
“
’
Tisn’t your face or your body that makes you beautiful, Becca.” He
placed his hand on her head. “This,” he said. Then he touched her heart. “And this.”
Both of his hands cradled her rotund abdomen. “And the miracle growing here.
These are the things I love about you. These are the things that make you
beautiful.”

Tears stained her
cheeks silver, and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry
I’ve been such a beast,” she sniffed. “Hormones.” He looked completely
perplexed at the word. “Oh, I forgot. Hormones are nasty little buggers that
run amok in pregnant women’s bodies making them weepy and bitchy, and bloody
well useless.”

Ciaran smiled down
at her. “So, cailín, will yee come to the fair of
Lughnasadh
with me?”

She smiled back.
“Aye. I’ll come.”

She changed into the
linen dress, and the little maid, Alys, brushed out her hair. With deft
fingers, the girl wove the plaits and then wound the intricate braids around
her head. Becca felt infinitely better by the time she joined Ciaran in the
great hall, and they strolled out to the courtyard. True to his word, he’d had
a cart brought around so she wouldn’t have to walk. Eachan himself drove the
cart, while Ciaran mounted his stallion.

All was in readiness
up on the hill. The bonfire stood ready to be lit, and both the priest and the
Druid did a brisk business. Lughnasadh traditionally was the time of
handfasting. A couple could have a trial marriage lasting a year and a day.
They could return to the fair the following year to make their troth a
permanent one, or they could turn their backs on each other and walk away in
opposite directions, effectively divorcing.

Ciaran did have an
ulterior motive for bringing Becca to the fair. Though he had bound her to him
at
Samhain
, he also wanted the blessing of the Church. He’d directed
Eachan to take Becca directly to the priest. The cart rolled to a stop near the
man in his faded brown cassock, and Ciaran dismounted. One of his guard led the
stallion away.

When she realized
what was going on, she started laughing. “Talk about a shotgun wedding,” she
chortled, and then realized not a soul had a clue as to what she meant. That
just made her laugh harder. She wasn’t prepared when the first contraction hit.
It stole her breath and doubled her over. Then her water broke, and she looked
at Ciaran, her eyes wide and worried.

He knew what was
happening before she did. A huge smile split his face, and he pulled her into
his arms. “
’
Tis time, cailín. The babe comes.”

He asked Niall to
call for his horse, but Taidhg had already reacted and led the stallion
forward. Ciaran mounted and then Niall carefully picked up Becca. He handed her
to his
Taoiseac.

“I’ll send Siobhan,”
Niall told them. “And the midwife.” He turned on his heel and darted into the
crowd to find his wife.

Cradling her across
his hard thighs, Ciaran urged the big horse back to the castle. The whole crowd
stopped to watch the couple, and Becca was so embarrassed she hid her face in
his shirt. Riordan was in the courtyard as they cantered in. He helped Becca
down, and then took the horse from Ciaran as the big man scooped Becca into his
arms and strode into keep. Up in their chamber, Ciaran set her on the bed,
wondering what to do next.

“Get out,” she
ordered as if reading his mind. His face fell. Hurt radiated in his eyes.
Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him tenderly. “No offense, Ciaran. I
might be a twenty-first century woman, but men in the delivery room never
seemed like a good idea to me. Please, when Siobhan and the midwife get here,
go find Niall and Riordan, and get rip-roaring drunk. Okay?”

“I’ll not leave you
to face this alone, Becca,” he vowed, his fierce expression emphasizing his
words.

Siobhan and the
midwife sailed in before Becca could reply. One got her undressed and into a
simple linen shift, while the other laid fresh coverlets across the bed. Ciaran
paced the room like a caged wolf.

“Relax,” Siobhan
chided him, keeping her voice calm. “The babe will come in its own good time.
If yee have to stay, then do some good.” Ciaran looked hopeful. “Get into bed
with her and let her lie back against yee.”

Ciaran did as he was
told, leaning up against the wall on a couple of pillows. He pulled Becca back
against him and wrapped his arms around her. She finally found a comfortable
position by bending her knees up. Siobhan draped a coverlet over her legs to
preserve some modicum of her modesty.

By noon, Ciaran was
cursing his
boidín
, his selfishness, and men in general. By
mid-afternoon, Becca was cursing one man in particular, but didn’t dare voice
her opinion. As shadows fell across the room, Alys came in to light candles and
rush lights along the walls. Her cheeks dimpled as she watched the couple on
the bed. A really strong contraction hit, and Alys’s brow knitted in
consternation. She slipped out of the room. A few minutes later, she returned
with several new candles and some sprigs of herbs. She lit them all, and soon a
soothing mixture of scents wafted about the room. Becca closed her eyes, drew
deep breaths of the perfumed air into her lungs, and relaxed.