Yuletide Enchantment (9 page)

His seed spilled forth as he continued to rock against her, her warmth enveloping him, caressing and tightening around him.

“I won’t ever let you go, Isobel,” he said against her hair. “No matter what happens, you’ll always belong to me.”

“Do Sidhe men always wake their women so?” Isobel asked as she yawned. Daegan chuckled and wrapped his arms around her as he lifted her from the lounge and carried her across the room to the bed. “I couldn’t resist. You looked so enticing.”

Isobel sat up, her long hair dragged over Daegan’s chest. “I’m glad.”

He covered her lips with his index finger. “I cannot always come to you, Isobel. My magic . . . my essence is intertwined with Annwyn. I cannot exist for any time outside its realm. You will have to come to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, biting her lip. “I was confused. I didn’t know what to do, but I always knew I wanted you.”

He kissed her soundly then. “I could not bear another night without you.”

Isobel lay in his arms and enjoyed the feel of his fingers lazily making circles on her back. She was content and happy like this, in Daegan’s arms.

“What are we going to do?” she said with a sigh. “How will we stay together? I do not only want to have you in my sleep, Daegan. And you cannot live in my world—”

“There is a way for you to live in mine,” he said, “but you will have to decide if it is the path you wish to walk.”

“What is it?”

“I could offer you the rite of lanamnas.”

“And that is?”

“It is a sacred ritual of my people. It is a sort of a handfasting, but for us, the lanamnas is only taken with a soul mate. It is an eternal vow,
muirnín.
You will be my wife in all ways, and I will be your husband.”

“And we can be together if I agree to this rite?”

He nodded. “But there is a price for us to be together. Once we are eternally bound, you cannot leave Annwyn—ever.”

Her heart sank. To never see Fiona again, or her father. To never see her soon-to-be niece or nephew . . .

When she looked up at him, it was through tears. “You speak of eternity. Are you immortal?”

He stroked her cheek. “We can be killed, by iron and black magic. But if left in peace to live out our natural lives, it is possible for my kind to live many hundreds of years, and when it is our time, our magic dies, our inner light wanes, and we fade into Summerland.”

“Would I live that long then?”

“In Annwyn you would. Once you are bound to me and my magic, I will make it so.”

“Everyone I love will be long dead before I die.” Biting her lip, she forced back the croak in her voice. “And in the afterlife? Where will I go? To our heaven or to your version of it?”

“I do not know.” His gaze softened, and he kissed her brow, then her nose, before softly brushing his mouth against hers. “ ’Tis much I ask of you, Isobel. I know that. I will not press you. I will release my spell on the pin, and my hold on you. You see,” he said, cupping her cheek, “I love you too much to see you unhappy. Come willingly to me, understanding all that you will give up, or come not at all and be happy and know that I will always love you.”

“Daegan!” she cried as she threw her arms around his neck. “Why must it be so hard for us!”

“It is the way of star-crossed lovers, is it not?”

She grumbled, but then sobered. “I nearly forgot,” she said, pulling away from him. “My father has organized a hunting party for tomorrow morning—”

“And I am to be hunted?” he asked with a grin.

“Do not make light of this,” she said, slapping him lightly on his arm. “You must take care to keep hidden.”

“You worry?” he asked, rather pleased.

“Of course I worry. My father wants your head mounted and hung above our fireplace, for heaven’s sake.”

He laughed and gathered her close. “I can take care of myself,
muirnín.
There is no need for these tears, for come the night I will be waiting for you. You will see.”

She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

He nodded and settled against the headboard. “I will stay with you. Forever if you will have me,
muirnín.
”

In the morning he was gone. Isobel hurried and got up from bed and rang the bell for her maid.

Elizabeth arrived seconds later. “Ack, Miss,” she cried, rushing over. “Donna rush. Breakfast is nae ready yet.”

“My father and brothers,” she grunted, twisting in order to undo the buttons of her nightgown. “Have they left yet?”

“Nay, miss. The horses are only being saddled now.”

“Good, then fetch my riding habit and leather boots.”

“You’re gonna ride this morning, before tea?” Elizabeth asked. “That’s not like you, miss.”

“I know,” she huffed, straightening her hair as her maid pulled the black-a nd-gold habit from the wardrobe.

“Why donna you sit, miss, and I’ll se tae your hair.”

“I’m in something of a rush, Elizabeth. I won’t be fussing with it today.”

She shocked her maid speechless when she pulled the wool skirt from the hanger and jumped into it without her drawers and petticoats. “Help me, Elizabeth. I can’t manage the buttons by myself.”

“Are you all right, miss? You ’aven’t taken ill, ’ave you?”

Isobel laughed. “Perhaps taken leave of my senses, but I assure you, I’m hale and hearty in every other aspect. Now then, Elizabeth, if you will inform the groomsman to prepare my horse.”

She had Daegan to save this morning.

In the end, Daegan had evaded them. Thank the Lord, she thought, glancing up at the sky. Daegan was safe. But for how long? she wondered.

Well, at least he had not come to any harm. She had been terrified for him. Every time she had seen the trees of the forest sway she had feared he would emerge, prepared to charge.

But he hadn’t. She wondered what had kept him away. Instinctively she knew it wasn’t fear. Daegan was fearless. Perhaps it was for her own peace of mind.

Closing her eyes, she thought of him and the night they’d shared. She also thought of his proposal, if it could be called such. A rite, he had called it, a way to bind them together forever. She only had to sacrifice her family to his.

Why could love never be easy? she wondered. As she patted her mount’s muzzle, Isobel turned away. She was cold and hungry. A good meat pie and a cup of tea is what she needed.

“Don’t go.”

She gasped and looked up as she caught the shadow of someone emerging from her horse’s stall.
St. Clair
.

“Good day, my lord.”

“Good day, Isobel. I trust your ride was successful.”

“The hart was not found.”

St. Clair looked relieved. “But you’ve seen him, haven’t you?”

Isobel cocked her head to the side. “Not of late, my lord.”

“The hart. He is yours.”

Isobel took a step back as the earl came closer. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“He was going to impale me, and yet, when he saw you standing there, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. To murder me before you.”

She laughed, a tight, high-pitched sound. “He’s an animal, my lord.”

“Aren’t we all?” the earl murmured as he came to stand toe to toe with her. “But to return to the hart. For some reason he’s marked you.”

“Forgive me, my lord, but I’m really rather hungry and would like to change clothes before luncheon—”

His arm shot out, preventing her from moving. “They say the hart is really the ruler of Annwyn. And Annwyn is always ruled by the Sidhe.”

Isobel swallowed hard, but held his gaze.

“Have you seen the hart in his man’s form, Isobel?”

“Of course not!” she cried. “This is just rubbish!”

“I have watched you, you know. You always seem drawn to the woods. Now more than ever, I see you looking at them.”

“I like nature.”

He smiled, but there was little warmth in it. “Last night, at the table, did you believe me?”

“About faeries?”

“Aye.”

She cast about for an answer, anything that would make him leave her alone and protect Daegan.

“I think you did,” St. Clair murmured. “I saw the recognition in your eyes when I raised the athame. You’ve seen it before.”

Isobel shook her head, but the earl quieted her protests. “I will tell you now what I couldn’t say last night. The woods, Isobel, are alive, teeming with Sidhe. My mother knew that. She was seduced by their magic. By one of their males—”

Isobel tried to step to the side, but St. Clair wrapped his hands around her shoulders, caging her. “My mother began to waste away. She would sit for hours and hours, staring out the window, watching. Pining for her lover.”

“My lord, really—”

“Her lover came for her; I saw him. I knew that night I would never see her again.”

“And what do you mean by telling me this?” Isobel asked.

St. Clair’s eyes turned molten. “I believe you are under the same spell.”

Her whole body went rigid. “You are insane,” she scoffed.

“You don’t know, do you? Theirs is a dwindling race. They have resorted to stealing the odd human woman to . . . procreate. But in this case, I believe my mother was taken for another reason, namely her knowledge of the dark arts.”

“What do you mean by dark arts?” she asked in a whisper.

“My mother was a skilled herbalist. She practiced only for the good, but she well knew the ways of the other side, the herbs and spells of dark magic, or necromancy as it is known. This is why she was stolen by the Sidhe, to act as a priestess for their dark arts.”

Isobel felt goose bumps rise on her arms and neck. Daegan had said nothing about dark magic. It could not be true.

Could it?

“My lord, I beg of you, you must stop this foolishness—”

“The dark arts can be a seductive lure, Isobel. But once you’re ensnared, you’ll never be seen again. No mortal can save you.”

“I thank you for your concern, but you needn’t worry.” Isobel pushed firmly on his arm and moved past him.

St. Clair raised his voice. “I saw my mother, some years later, lying at the edge of the wood.”

Isobel stopped and glanced back over her shoulder.

“She was dead, her skin marked with strange symbols. Ask your gamekeeper—he’ll tell you, for it was he who found her.”

“Symbols?” she asked, swallowing hard.

“Dark magick.”

“You seek to frighten me.”

St. Clair studied her. “Are you frightened, Isobel?”

Lifting her chin, Isobel met his gaze. “Not one bit, my lord.”

It was Christmas Eve, and the hall was decked out for the ball. Everywhere one looked there were garlands and mistletoe. The fires in the hearths were blazing; the chestnuts, roasting and popping.

The local merchants and their wives along with the surrounding gentry had descended upon them only minutes before.