Song of the Fairy Queen (62 page)

She looked at his face, admiring the clean lines, his crystal blue eyes and his mouth, his firm, wonderful mouth.

In amazement, she stroked a hand through his hair, touching his cheek, her fingertips lightly brushing his mouth.

Leaning forward, she offered her lips to his.

They brushed, teased, played, her tongue darting out to taste him and then he leaned forward enough for their lips to meet.

His hands slid up, curled over her thighs, just at the top of them, massaging, his thumbs brushing near the core of her. Her hands slid up his arms, stroking across his strong chest, over his broad shoulders.

Warmth blossomed. Already her nipples were hard and tight. Her breasts ached.

He tasted so good.

Morgan savored her, relishing the sensation of Kyri’s silken skin wet beneath his hands, her firm muscles beneath, her body heating to his touch. Sliding his hands up over her hips, he caressed her, molded her, ran his hands up to curl around her ribs below her breasts. He tightened his hands. Obediently she arched, propped back on her hands, her full breasts rising, the nipples hard, round, tight.

Lightly, he tasted one with his tongue.

Kyri’s eyelids fluttered and she gasped.

He tasted the other, too, nibbling lightly, smiling when she squirmed.

Then he sucked the whole nipple into his mouth and she shivered.

He looked up into her flushed and delighted face.

So he did the same to the other, savoring, nibbling, sucking and suckling.

He loved the way she trembled and quivered in his hands, to his touch.

Then he worked his way down her ribs, his hands first on her hips to lift her up a little higher on the rock, before drawing her thighs gently apart as she leaned back further. Breathing in the scent of her, he opened her to him, his thumbs exposing her. Lowering his head Morgan tasted her need, her body twitching, suckling lightly as a cry of pleasure built in her throat.

His mouth moved over her, teasing, tantalizing, until she surrendered to him, her hands falling away as she trembled, her eyelids fluttering as he pleasured her.

Morgan slid an arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back with a care for her wings and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to a softer spot in a patch of grass, laying her still trembling body down among them. As his mouth closed over hers, he slipped his fingers inside her and stroked, teased, his thumb brushing across her.

Need and glory built.

Desperate for him, needing to be filled, Kyri found him with her hand, the thick, hard length of him, squeezing and stroking until he was rigid, as hard as rock in her hand.

Morgan ached for her.

Raising himself up over her, he paused to look down into her flushed and glowing face.

With a smile, Kyri brought her hips up, taking him into her and watched him smile as he sheathed himself in her..

Slowly, they rocked together, ecstasy gathering, building.

When it came, it came in a glorious rush, filling them as he filled her, the warmth of it sending another shiver through her. He smiled to know she felt it as he collapsed over her, his head resting on her shoulder and one feather-soft wing.

Kyri turned her head so she could look at him.

Morgan reached up to brush the hair back from her face.

“I love you,” he said softly. “I should have said it before and I almost lost my chance.”

Kyri smiled, brushed her lips across his. “Did you think I didn’t know?”

“Sometimes the words need to be said,” Morgan answered, looking into her luminous eyes.

“Yes, it does,” Kyri answered.“I love you, too, Morgan.”

With a sigh, Morgan said, “We should go back.”

Looking into his eyes, she said regretfully, “We should.”

For a moment though, he clasped her tighter, and her arms closed around him.

To their surprise and Galan’s immense relief at seeing Kyri alive and whole, they found Galan waiting with the others at their camp.

A little surprised to find another Fairy joining them, the others had already relieved his mind once he’d told them what his mission was.

Delighted, Kyri ran to give him a quick, light kiss on the cheek, a rare gesture of affection from his Queen that had grown even rarer of late. Galan had grieved for that.

To see her with Morgan, again, to see them both so clearly happy… after watching Kyri’s long vigil…the sadness lifted.

“It’s good to see you well, my Kyri,” Galan said, his wise eyes asking no questions, simply accepting and gladly.

“Why is Galan here?” Kyri asked and then answered her own question, with a glance at Morgan. “Ah.”

“I knew how to call him,” Morgan said, “but not how to tell him he wasn’t needed any longer.”

Kyri looked at him. “I don’t know whether it’s more dangerous to keep him here with us or send him back, now.”

“We should at least keep him with us for now,” Colton offered. “If we’ve been under observation, they’ll have seen him arrive. It’s been a while since some folk have seen Fairy and some never have. It’ll worry them.”

“Then you’re with us for a little while, Galan,” Morgan said apologetically.

He felt a sharp twinge of concern, remembering too well what had happened to the gentle Fairy Healer the last time he’d been Called.

With a small shrug, Angela sitting happily on his knee, Galan said, “It’s been quiet for a time in the deep forest. We have another Healer now so I won’t be much missed.”

Breakfast had already been started, Gawain learning another lesson as Gordon had decided to teach him how to cook.

“There’s a good place to bathe,” Kyri offered as she packed up her blanket, “a little ways in, if anyone wants to get clean or go for a swim.”

She was seemingly engrossed in the simple task.

“A swim, is it?” Caleb muttered, smothering a grin.

Morgan gave him a look and got an amused one back, Caleb’s brown eyes glinting.

An hour or so later they rode out, Galan on the seat of the wagon with Colton, Angela happily squeezed between her father and the new Fairy. She was fascinated by him.

Which Galan didn’t mind at all, as he liked children. One day he hoped to have one of his own.

“Can I have one of your feathers, too?” Angela asked. “Kyri gave me one of hers. See?”

“Angela!” her father said sharply, horrified.

With a small shake of his head at Colton, Galan laughed. “Yes, I do see and yes you may.”

He handed her one of his own feathers, a soft gold, which the delighted little girl spun in the fingers of one hand to catch the light, as she did with Kyri’s feather in her other hand.

“Why are they different colors?” she asked.

“All of the Fair have different colored wings,” Kyri said.

Galan added, “But only Kyri’s are clear.”

“Why?”

“Because Kyriay is Kyriay, she’s Queen of the Fair,” Galan explained.

Her eyes huge, Angela looked at Kyri. “The Queen of the Fairy.”

Amused, Kyri looked at him and smiled. “Not such a thing, Angela, as I, too, still have to milk the cows.”

Galan raised an amused and questioning eyebrow at her.

“Another time Galan, my friend,” Kyri said smiling.

Sometime late in the afternoon Morgan glanced at Kyri and she nodded.

“I saw it, too.”

“A rider,” Colton said, “to our left. Saw a glimpse of him above the ridge.”

“There’s another then,” Morgan said. “Two. Friend or foe?”

“Might be neither,” Caleb pointed out. “Folks are careful these days. Some villages have their own patrols out. Angela there might be our best insurance against trouble. Haerold’s folk don’t generally bring kids.”

After watching for a while, two riders rode over the ridge. There was a sense of others, probably hidden in a nearby stand of trees.

Colton kept the wagon moving as the riders drew abreast of them. If they needed to get away fast it was better from a walk than a standing start.

His stomach fluttered and he turned his body to keep it between them and his children.

Angela started to object, to say she couldn’t see but Galan tapped her knee and shook his head gently.

Her eyes widened, but she nodded.

“Name’s Parker, this is Curtis. You folks just passing through?” the one man asked, looking them over.

Parker was on the tall side, thickish and balding, going a little soft around the middle. His partner Curtis was younger, his hair dark, spiky and a little greasy, his scalp showing white and pale beneath it.

Seeing Morgan, Parker’s gaze sharpened a little with recognition and again when he looked at Kyri.

Neither of them missed the reaction.

Both stiffened a little, growing alert.

Colton shook his head, keeping the horses moving with twitches of the reins.

“I have a friend up in Minersville,” he said. “A tanner by the name of Martin.”

That was code phrase and cover story in one.

“You have a lot of company,” Parker said.

Narrowing his eyes, Colton answered.“I have my children and their tutor with me. Can’t be too careful these days.”

With a shake of his head, Parker said, “No, I guess you can’t.”

Gesturing to Curtis, they turned their horses and rode off.

Colton shook his head. “They did nothing wrong, but…”

Something seemed off.

“They knew me,” Morgan said.

“It would help if you weren’t so damn distinctive, Morgan,” Caleb said.

Jacob had said something similar once, Morgan remembered, his mouth tightening.

“He knew me, too,” Kyri added and conceded it with a wave. “Yes, I know I’m fairly distinctive, too, even without the wings.”

Galan had tucked his away at the first sign of strangers.

“The question is, where does he know us from?” Morgan said. “Oryan’s camp? The rebels? Or from a description given by Haerold’s people? I didn’t recognize him, did you, Kyri?”

She shook her head. “But there were so many people…”

Morgan’s every instinct was to change direction, get them somewhere under cover, but if they were to find Oryan, it was the one thing they couldn’t do.

“If they’re Haerold’s, then they’ll try to take us out in the open, or once we’re camped for the night.”

His eyes worried, Colton put his arm around his daughter. Brion could, to some extent, take care of himself, but Angela was so young.

Seeing it, Morgan’s heart caught. He glanced at Kyri.

“Galan?” she said.