Heart of the Druid Laird (12 page)

Dermot’s large hands moved over her with exquisite tenderness, awakening sensations inside her she hadn’t known were possible. Being in his arms felt right, yet she didn’t know him at all, not in this life anyway. She’d never been one to fall into bed with strangers. Where was the guilt she should be feeling? Where was the voice telling her
it’s not him?

“I know you do no’ remember me.” Dermot nuzzled her shoulder and kissed his way across her collarbone. Tendrils of heat spread through her body. “Perhaps you’ll remember my touch.”

“Maybe. Keep touching, and I’ll let you know.”

Chuckling, he laved one of her sensitive nipples with his tongue until she wanted to scream. Did she remember his touch? She ran her hands over his broad back, reveling in the feel of tight muscle under hot skin. She’d been attracted to him from the start. Was it possible on some level she did remember? “What am I doing?”

His eyes smoldered into hers. “You’re making love with me. My soul recognizes yours, as yours does mine.” He trailed kisses down her torso, his hands stroking and fondling her into a frenzy. “Let me do this for you. Open for me, love. Remember my touch.”

Closing her eyes, Sidney moaned. His wicked tongue left fire in its wake as he kissed and nibbled his way down her body. He ran his hands over her legs, behind her knees, feather-light touches and nibbles on the insides of her thighs. Spreading her legs wide, he stopped.

“Hey.” She opened her eyes and frowned at him. “Don’t tease.”

He lay between her thighs, propped up on his elbows and studied her with a look of awe. Seeing him like that turned her on more than anything else ever had. Dermot ran a finger around the outside of her sex, and her muscles tightened and released. His eyebrows lifted, and he grinned.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever beheld. So lovely.” He touched her again, this time tracing his finger around her throbbing clit, and her pelvis tilted up toward his hand, hungry for more. He watched her body respond to his touch. “So sensitive. Come for me. I want to watch you fall apart because of me.”

All coherent thought left her the moment his tongue slid over her. Within moments she did as he commanded. Dermot moved to cover her body with his. Cradling her face, he caught and held her gaze with a look of triumph and male satisfaction. Her heart melted.

“Paradise,” he murmured as he entered her. He stared into her eyes while thrusting inside her slowly. The intimacy was almost too much to bear.

“Dermot…”

His mouth came down on hers, and his control slipped. She let herself go, meeting his thrusts with her own until he fell apart in her arms—because of her.

Spent, Sidney lay next to Dermot and stared at the ceiling. She’d just had the best sex of her life with a man she barely knew. He had once been her husband.
She
had once been his wife. Deep inside had she known? She had to admit that from their very first meeting, her soul had reached for his. The strong emotions he evoked, laced with grief and anger, what lay behind them? Maybe he was the reason for the voice in her head that prevented her from getting close to any other man.

She felt Dermot’s eyes on her and turned to face him. “The story I read said you and your men went on a killing rampage after your wife’s murder.”

“It’s true. Every man involved in her death felt my wrath.” Dermot traced his finger across the fullness of her lower lip. His eyes roamed over her face and on to her bare breasts.

Shivers ran down her spine. “You must have loved her very much.”

He shook his head. “Love had naught to do with it. Once we were wed, she belonged to me. I could no’ let her murder go unpunished. Our enemies would have seen us as weak and ripe for the taking.”

His words stung, and an uncomfortable feeling spread inside her. She felt as if an old wound had reopened deep inside her soul. “Are you saying you didn’t love her? What did you say her name was?”

“Mairéad.” Dermot met her gaze. “A man in my position could no’ marry for love. Unions were for political alliances and gain, nothing more.” He shrugged. “Romantic love is for the weak and foolish. I could no’ afford to be either. My clan depended upon my strength for their survival.”

“You equate love with weakness?” She frowned. “I’ve always thought the opposite was true. Tell me something. Given the choice, would you rather meet an overwhelming number of your enemies on the battlefield, or give your heart into the keeping of one woman?”

“I would rather face my enemies in battle.” His mouth formed a tight line.

“Just as I thought. You’re a coward.”

He scowled at her. “Men have died for less insult than that, lass.”

“I’m sure.” She scowled back, mimicking his fierceness. “Look, you’re immortal and trained to fight. How brave do you have to be to do what you’ve always done, especially knowing you can’t die?” She met his dark look with a challenge. “But giving your heart? Now that takes guts. I think trusting another person enough to give and receive love is the most courageous act of bravery there is.” She pushed his shoulder. “Definitely not for the weak.”

Dermot stiffened beside her. He’d closed himself off, and his expression revealed nothing of what was going on inside his head. Sudden insight flooded her. “You’ve never risked it, have you?”

Dermot sat up and turned his back to her. “I’m hungry.”

“Wait a minute.” She tugged the sheet over herself. “In all the centuries you’ve lived, have you ever loved a woman enough to trust her with your heart? Have you ever been brave enough to be vulnerable with someone?” She held her breath, waiting for him to answer.

“I know nothing of the kind of love you speak of,” he muttered. “Vulnerability is a liability.” He got out of bed. Tension pulsed off him like hazard lights flashing a warning. “Where’s the loo?”

She’d touched a raw nerve. Stunned, Sidney realized something else. She’d never risked giving her heart either. Was he the reason?

“It’s across the hall.” She watched him walk away, and the reopened wound inside her gave a warning throb. “Coward,” she whispered.

Áine opened the French doors overlooking the Mediterranean and breathed deep, relishing the tang of the sea air. This villa on the French Riviera was her favorite place in the mortal realm. She loved the way European men fawned over her and vied for her attention. She loved the climate, the colors and most of all the mortal dramas unfolding around her—often caused by her own delicious meddling.

“Eithne, bring me my looking glass.” Áine reclined on the chaise facing the balcony.

“Which one, mistress? Do you wish to see your reflection, or to spy?”

“You needn’t put it quite like that.” Áine frowned.

“The pensieve it is.” Eithne grinned. “Will you be dining in or out this evening?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Out.” Áine gazed toward the ocean. Her thoughts drifted to what she’d wear and the young man who would be her after-dinner dessert.

“Here it is.” Eithne handed her the silver disk.

Áine turned the plate-sized oval facedown on her lap. Memories of the past inundated her as she traced a finger over the gold-chased Celtic knots decorating the back. Eons ago, humans worshipped her kind—as well they ought. Now, few even knew of their existence, and that sorry state rankled. What was the point of being a demigod if nobody worshipped you?

“That will be all.” Áine waited until Eithne left the room before turning the pensieve right-side up. Concentrating on Sidney’s essence, she waved her hand over the polished silver, adding her own magic to that already imbued into the precious metal. Slowly a picture emerged, the edges blurred and indistinguishable at first, sharpening with each passing second. She stared in disbelief, choking on the rage welling up inside her. Sidney with that damned Druid, sleeping together in the same bed. She strained to see more. Were they…naked?

“No!” she shouted, jumping up from the chaise. “I warned her. This cannot be.”

“What is it, Princess Áine?” Eithne hurried into the room, a look of alarm on her face. “Has something happened in our realm?”

“It’s Sidney. She’s with that damned Druid.”

“Oh.” Eithne’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Is that all?”

“What do you mean
is that all?
Isn’t it enough? She’s not just with him, Eithne. She’s…” Áine waved a hand in the air, “…
with
him. He’ll take her to Scotland now. My perfect punishment will be ruined.” She tossed the offending pensieve to the cushions.

“It’s been nearly two thousand years. Why not let it end? I’m certain you can find some other mortal to curse.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Áine paced around the room. “This isn’t about cursing for the sake of cursing.” She fisted a hand over her heart. “He
stole
my daughter from me. Mairéad’s desertion nearly crushed the life out of me. That damned Druid forced her to forsake immortality to be with him.”

“Aye, Dermot stole your daughter, and now you have her back.”

“Do
not
even suggest such a thing.” She spun angrily toward Eithne. “That puny mortal is
not
my daughter. Mairéad is lost to me for all time.”

“Why do you bother with the mortal, then?”

“To keep her from the Druid, of course.” She raked a hand through her hair. “He cannot win. I will not allow the curse to be lifted. If I must suffer an eternity without Mairéad, he must suffer what he detests most—immortality.”

“Mistress, perhaps it’s time to let it go. If the Druid upsets you so, let him die and be done with it. You know your father wants you home. There are several enticing men of our own kind who would be more than happy to entertain you, or you could take a human lover. Maybe it would ease your grief to hold a babe in your arms again.”

“Never.” She stood before the balcony and stared out over the lavender-tinged hills undulating down to the sea. She’d given her heart to a mortal once and only once. She’d borne him six sons and one daughter. Her husband and sons had refused to take the elixir of life, and she’d watched them age and die. Only Mairéad had chosen the life of the
Tuatha
—until Dermot MacKay came along and stole her heart.

Losing her only remaining child had nearly destroyed her, and all the grief and rage over her many losses found a new target.
Diarmad Macaoidth.
Familiar bitterness filled her. “The Druid
wants
his life to end. He desires death above all else. I will not allow him to have what
he
wants when I have suffered so much.”

“What about Sidney? Why should she suffer?”

“What is suffering to a human?” Áine shrugged. “They have the lifespan of a fruit fly compared to us. Her momentary discomfort will hardly even register a ripple in the universe.”

“I’m sure it registers to them,” Eithne muttered. “Perhaps your attitude toward humans is one of the reasons Mairéad waited so long to be reborn.”

“Do
not
forget your place.”

“Of course not, mistress. How could I?” Her eyes widened. “You remind me of it daily.”

“You will speak of this to no one, or there will be repercussions.” She gave her a pointed look. “Your service to me will end in less than two hundred years. If you betray my trust, I’ll see that another millennium is added to your sentence.”

Eithne sulked. “In all the centuries I’ve served you, have I ever betrayed a confidence? Why would you think I’d do so now?”

She dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. After all, it was betrayal that had gotten Eithne sentenced to servitude in the first place. “I don’t understand why my magic has failed. Dermot’s meager power is no match for mine. I cannot tolerate being bested, especially by that idiot Druid.” She paced again. “I managed to keep the girl hidden for twenty-six years, and now nothing I do works. How is that possible?”

“Perhaps it has nothing to do with the Druid.”

“What do you mean?” Áine stopped pacing.

“This Sidney human does carry your daughter’s soul, right?”

She nodded. “Go on.”

“Her soul was forged from yours. You’re one of the Goddess Danu’s direct descendants. It stands to reason the mortal has powers of her own, does it not?”

“True as that may be, I doubt she realizes it.”

“I’m certain she doesn’t. Still, it is Mairéad’s soul the mortal carries within her human body. What if Mairéad’s magic works against yours without Sidney’s awareness? As I recall, ’twas Mairéad who wanted the union with Dermot so bloody badly, not the other way around. What if—”

“By the goddess!” Áine returned to the pensieve. Sitting down, she placed it in her lap and called forth the image that had so offended her. Sidney slept wrapped in Dermot’s arms. Áine delved deeper, seeking beyond the physical and let out a growl of frustration. “I cannot believe this. Even after all she’s been through, even after a mortal death and the loss of her child. Dermot broke her heart, and mine, and yet it is
she
who seeks
him.
Her blasted soul craves him still.”

“I thought as much.” Eithne grinned smugly.

She gripped the pensieve so hard the edges bit into her palms. “I must do something.”

“What is there to do, mistress? Perhaps if you let it be, the matter will finally be resolved, and you’ll find peace. Who knows, it might even improve your disposition.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my disposition.” Áine glared at Eithne. “No.” She set the pensieve away from her. “I have a better idea. I’ll take Sidney out of Dermot’s grasp. I’ll bring her to our realm where he cannot reach her.”

Eithne’s eyebrows rose. “It’s against our laws to bring mortals to Avalon. I better than anyone should know. It would cause all kinds of trouble, and your father will be displeased. Besides, didn’t he forbid you from interfering with the conditions he set for ending the curse? You’re already in trouble.”

“My father cares naught for mortals, and even less for their affairs. He’s probably forgotten all about my little curse.” Áine tapped her chin. “There is an alternative. I could end Sidney’s mortal life. These humans live for such a short time anyway and—”

“Oh, no. I don’t like the sound of that at all. Surely there would be serious repercussions for breaking
that
law.” Eithne wrung her hands, her eyes wide with alarm.

“Oh, all right.” Áine sent her a look of disdain. “When did you turn into such a clucking little pea-biddy? I’ll try to keep them where they are until after the anniversary of the murder passes. If that fails, removing her from this realm is my only remaining option. I’ll only keep Sidney until there’s no hope of ending the curse. Dermot and his men will remain immortal forever, and all will be as it should.”

“Mistress—”

“My father will never know, and by the time he does find out—
if
he finds out—it will be too late. We need only wait for the perfect opportunity.”

Eithne squeaked.
“We?”

Dermot woke from a deep sleep. He surveyed his surroundings and struggled to remember where he was. Sunlight poured through the window on to his face. The smell of fresh coffee wafted into the room from downstairs.
Sidney.
He relaxed into the pillow, surrounded by her scent.

Lifting his watch from the bedside table, he checked the time. Shock brought him up fast. He’d slept almost twelve hours. Frowning, he tried to remember the last time he’d slept this well. Had sex been the answer to his insomnia all along? No, he’d had women before, countless women in the first few centuries, and it hadn’t affected him like this.

Could it have something to do with the end of the curse being near at hand? He stood and stretched. Grabbing his overnight bag, he headed for the loo. Whatever the reason, he felt good.

Sidney’s toiletries sat bunched together on the bathroom counter. Dermot picked up a jar and read the label, Burt’s Bees Body Butter. He unscrewed the lid and held it to his face, inhaling the honey fragrance. Images of Sidney filled his mind and flooded his senses. She’d slept in his arms. Her bare skin, warm and soft against his, had been like a drug. He’d gladly succumb to the addiction. Remembering how they’d bickered over sleeping naked or clothed had him smiling. That was an argument worth having again. Knowing she was just downstairs had him aching to make love with her again.

A star-shaped bottle of perfume sat next to the body butter. He tested the scent. This too held the hint of honey. Mairéad had known how much he loved the taste and smell. Was it possible Sidney remembered his preference? The notion pleased him. He’d order a case of the body butter and several bottles of the perfume and have them waiting for her when they reached Scotland.

A jolt of reality turned his blood to ice. Scotland, the place where Mairéad had been murdered, and he’d been cursed. He’d be dead in a week’s time.

Gods, what had he done? He’d given in to his lust with no thought for Sidney’s feelings. He’d encouraged her affection even though he had nothing to offer in return. Dermot ran his hand over his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He wanted to put his fist through something.
Selfish sodding bastard.
Self-loathing churned his insides into a painful knot. He turned away from his reflection in the mirror and reached into the shower to turn the cold water on full blast.

Showered and shaved, Dermot made his way downstairs, dreading the conversation to come. He had to face the consequences of his actions. Hurting Sidney would tear his own soul to shreds. Their intimacy had to end, before she became too attached.

Sidney deserved so much more. She needed a man who believed in the kind of love she craved, someone who would cherish her, give her a home and children. By the time Dermot found her, a lump had formed in his throat, and he couldn’t speak.

She wore faded jeans and a denim shirt over a pale yellow T-shirt. Her hair had been arranged in a loose knot on the top of her head. She held a coffee mug in her hands as she stared out the picture window into the forest.

Dermot’s breath caught, and his chest tightened. What would it be like to wake every day certain in the knowledge that Sidney was near enough to hold? Some other man would have that joy, not he. His jaw clenched against the rending pain in his chest.

“I love this old place.” She smiled at him over her shoulder, turning his insides to mush. “You should come here in the spring. Waking to the sound of birdsong is amazing. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced.”

He nodded.

“My great-grandfather built this lodge with his two brothers. I’ve spent summers here with my extended family for as long as I can remember.”

She headed toward the kitchen while he remained glued to his spot.

“It’s been modernized over the years, of course.” She returned and handed him a mug of black coffee.

Their hands touched, and his blood sang.

“I was beginning to think you’d sleep all day.” She smiled.

A flicker of rebellion lit inside him. Immortality wouldn’t be so bad with Sidney by his side. Pushing the thought away, he took a breath, ready to tell her there could be no future for them. He had no future.

“Are you hungry?” Sidney slid her arm through his and tugged him toward the kitchen.

Another rebellious thought flashed through his head. He couldn’t have her forever, but he could keep her for the remainder of his miserable life. Didn’t he deserve a little happiness?

It was wrong. In every fiber of his being he knew it was wrong, yet there were things he could do to make up for the hurt he’d cause. Sidney was young. She’d get over him quickly. He frowned. The notion didn’t sit well.

“Dermot, are you all right? You haven’t spoken a single word.”

His breath came out in a whoosh. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. “Have a seat, Sidney. There are things we must settle between us.”

“Can’t even take one day off, can you?” Sidney shook her head.

“A day off? From what, being cursed or from the burden of guilt I carry? I’m responsible for what happened. Twelve men are depending upon me to end it. Tell me how to take a day off from that, and I’ll gladly do it.”

“Have you thought about maybe taking a long vacation after the curse is ended? You need to learn how to relax and have some fun.”