Lir's Lady Read online

  The last time, they were face to face. He was poised to take her when his whole chest heated with the mate bond. He gazed down at her, awed and humbled.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” He couldn’t say anything more than that, but surely—

  “Mm.” She grasped his hips and pulled him to her. “Feels…so good.”

  He plunged into her because his animal wouldn’t let him do anything else. But his heart iced with the knowledge that she didn’t feel it.

  Or worse, wouldn’t let herself feel it.

  So be it. A blackness filled his head. He thrust into her hard and fast and uncaring of her pleasure. If this was the last time, he’d take her as he wanted.

  But she was so sensitized that she stayed with him, and they came in another mutual climax that for a few minutes blanked out the hurt and anger.

  But only for a few minutes.

  Morning

  Isleen came awake to find Lir standing beside the bed. He’d put on a pair of black jeans and his hair was damp from a shower.

  He bent down to give her a soft kiss, his eyes dark and somber without a speck of gold. “We’d better get you back before Devlin tears Ireland apart looking for you.”

  “I left a message,” she reminded him. But he was right. She pushed herself up to sitting and glanced at the windows. The sun wasn’t up yet, but this time of year, dawn came late. It was probably around six o’clock, which meant she still had a few hours.

  “I’ll be downstairs getting breakfast,” he said.

  She nodded and padded across the floor to the bathroom. She would’ve loved to soak in the big marble tub—preferably with Lir—but she contented herself with a hot-as-Hades shower under five showerheads that cleaned every part of her body.

  As she soaped up, she realized she was pleasantly sore. It had been a long time. She smiled to herself and finished up.

  When she came out of the shower, she found a dress draped over a warming rod. She could tell just by looking that it had been fae-tailored. It was made of a beautiful gossamer gold material that shimmered like sunshine on the water. The dress itself had long sleeves and a calf-length skirt. When she put it on, the gold fabric formed itself to her body as if it had been sewn on her.

  Lir must have paid a fortune for it. Within their own clans, the fae and fada freely gave or bartered their talents, but a solitary like Lir would be charged an arm and a leg for such craftsmanship.

  Downstairs, she found Lir at the kitchen stove, his back to her. She paused to enjoy the view; there was something so sexy about a man cooking for you, especially a shirtless man. She watched the play of muscles on his naked back and shoulders as he added chopped parsley to the pan.

  He turned around and for a few seconds, just stared. “You look…” His throat worked.

  She didn’t think she’d ever had a better compliment.

  “It’s beautiful.” She crossed the room to entwine her arms around his neck. “I can’t imagine what it cost you. But why? You didn’t even know I’d be coming back with you.”

  He framed her face between his big palms. “The tailor owed me a favor. As for why, it’s simple. I wanted to see you in something as beautiful as you are. Something I chose for you. Merry Solstice, love.”

  “Merry Solstice.” She rose onto her toes to kiss him. “I just wish I had something for you.”

  “Last night was all the gift I need.” He gave her a squeeze and then turned back to the stove.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back, breathing in the clean scent of soap intermingled with his own male spice. “Mm. You smell good.”

  “So do you. Are you hungry?”

  “I am.” She looked over his shoulder at the eggs and cheese he was scrambling. “That looks delicious. I didn’t know you could cook.” She slid a teasing hand inside his waistband. “As a matter of fact, I’m…starving.”

  His stomach sucked in, but all he said was, “I also have scones.”

  “You bake, too?”

  “Nah.” His tone was sheepish. “That was my housekeeper, Mrs. O’Galvin. She brought a basket over a few minutes ago.” A kettle started boiling, and he nodded at it. “Why don’t you help yourself to some tea, and I’ll finish up here?”

  She gave his taut belly another caress and then reluctantly released him to fix them both a cup of tea. “You still like a bit of milk in yours?”

  “I do.”

  She added a dollop of milk to both cups and then joined him at the table for a plate of scrambled eggs and lemon scones. The food tasted even better than it smelled. For the first few minutes, they were silent save for an occasional comment as they ate their way through the eggs and a scone each.

  At last, Isleen set down her fork and watched as Lir reached for another of the light, biscuit-like breads. It was almost seven o’clock. Sunrise was less than two hours away, but she didn’t need the clock to tell her that. She could sense the approaching dawn.

  She sipped her tea as he broke open the scone and slathered each half with clotted cream before offering one to her. She shook her head. “No, thanks. I really should be going—I can’t be late.” She finished her tea and stood up.

  Leading the Yule ritual was one of her most important responsibilities as lady of the Ériu clan, and normally she loved doing it. But this year, she found herself wishing someone else would do lead the ritual. Or even better, that today wasn’t Yule and she had a few more days before she had to be back on the island.

  And why had Lir returned on the one night of the year when he’d known she’d have to be back by morning? He must know she couldn’t invite him to the ritual. It was a private ceremony open only to sun fae.

  Lir rose as well and grabbed a gray hoody from the back of a chair. “I’ll take you back,” he said as he zipped it up.

  “You don’t have to—I can ’port back.”

  His face set. “I’ll take you, I said. There’s time.”

  She shrugged and agreed—because she didn’t want this to end yet, either.

  They wended their way through the flower-filled living room to the foyer. As they passed a vase, Lir plucked out a couple of pink roses and gave them to her.

  She brought them to her lips, inhaling their fresh, sweet scent as he got her coat. He helped her into it and then gave her a hard hug.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, woman,” he said against her ear. “You make my heart ache.”

  She felt a prick of alarm. He sounded so final. But she just hugged him back. “You’re the beautiful one.”

  His lips twisted in an odd smile but he didn’t reply, just stepped back and opened the front door.

  Outside, it smelled of earth and rain. A mist curled in pale white wisps over the wet grass and around the sleek black sports car that waited on the drive. The drive back to the marina was a repeat of their gallop through the hills last night—fast and a little reckless, but with Lir always in control. Isleen sat back and watched the scenery rush by as he navigated the narrow roads, his long fingers loose on the wheel.

  As they entered the town, Lir slowed down and they bumped over the cobblestones. The streets were empty save for a few early risers. They passed a boy on a bicycle and a doctor walking home from a call, a stethoscope still around her neck. From Kasey’s Bake and Cake came the scent of fresh bread.

  Isleen stared out the window, chest tight. It was if some decision had been made for her, and she didn’t even know what it was.

  She touched Lir’s arm. “We’re having a party later this afternoon. You can’t stay on the island during the ritual, but you could come back later.”

  “I could.”

  She set her teeth. But if he wanted her to ask, she would. “Will you?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Isleen.”

  “But why?”

  He parked the car and turned to her. “This is your world, Isleen. I have my own life now.”

  It was a non-answer. She frowned at him, t
rying to figure out what he really meant.

  He touched her cheek and reached across to open her door. “We should be going. You don’t have much time.”

  They walked in silence to the pier. When they reached the boat, Lir helped her to a seat and tucked a blanket around her bare legs before backing the boat out of its berth.

  It had started to drizzle again. A pale silver predawn light was spreading across the horizon, no match for the rain clouds. Goddess, she hated this time of year.

  She studied Lir’s expressionless profile as he set a course west to the island.

  Panic grabbed her stomach. She was going to lose him—again. And she didn’t even know why.

  He throttled down the engine, set the controls on autopilot and took her face between his hands. “Thank you, Isleen.”

  She swallowed noisily. “I don’t want your thanks. That—last night—was the best gift you could’ve given me.”

  He nodded, his eyes still that dark, somber brown. “What am I to do with you?” he asked for the third time. His tone was resigned, even a little sad.

  She grabbed his wrists. “Stay with me, Lir. I—I don’t want this to be over. You could run your business from the island.”

  “I could. I’m thinking of setting up an operation in Ireland.”

  “Then you’ll stay?”

  “That depends on you.” His expression was watchful.

  She smiled, relieved. “Well, then stay. You know I want you to.”

  “But as what, Isleen?”

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “If I stay, what would I be?”

  “My lover. What else would you be? I’d be happy to have you as my head guard again, but I know you have your own life now.”

  “Your lover. Your head guard.” He released her and sat back. “No. I don’t think so.”

  She scowled. “Then why come back? What was this all about?”

  He dragged a hand through his short black curls. “The way we ended things never set well with me.”

  She thought she saw then. “This was your idea of payback, wasn’t it?” Her mouth twisted. “Take the fae lady somewhere, tie her up and make her beg. It will make a good story for your friends, won’t it? Was your brother in on it, too?”

  His dark brows lowered. “Did I do anything to make you think I wasn’t sincere? And my brother thinks I should stay the hell away from you, if you want the truth.”

  “Then why? Why make me want you and then leave again?”

  “Did I?” he asked. “Make you want me?”

  “You couldn’t tell?”

  “Well, yeah. But—” He closed his mouth and shook his head.

  “Damn it, Lir, what do you want? Do you want me to swear to be faithful? Is that it?”

  “That would be a start,” he shot back.

  “You—you—bloody S.O.B.” She shoved him so he almost fell off the seat. “I was never unfaithful to you,” she gritted as he regained his balance. “Never. I flirted, yes. But during our year-and-a-day, you were my only lover—as you bloody well know with those shifter senses of yours.”

  He had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he muttered. “But what does it matter? Faithful or no, I was never anything but a toy to you. And that’s not good enough anymore.”

  “That’s not true. I—”

  “No?” His gaze bored into hers. “The truth, Isleen.”

  She stared back at him helplessly, unable to lie but not wanting to admit he was right. Because it was true, she had thought of him as a toy, but—“That was a long time ago.”

  She’d waited too long. He exhaled sharply—almost a snort—and turned away to throttle up the engines. The boat shot forward.

  The roar of the engines made it impossible to talk. Isleen sat stiffly, a ball of ice lodged in her stomach. Lir was angry and disappointed in her. She got that, but last night she’d been sure he’d forgiven her. This wasn’t about what had happened all those years ago. It was about right now.

  But why? She stared down at the roses in her hand. What did the blasted man want?

  They entered a heavy fog—a natural one, not the magical mist that kept out intruders. Lir straightened and scanned the instruments. “We should be all right,” he called, “but I have to slow down. Maybe you should ’port the rest of the way.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’ll stay.”

  They inched their way through the fog. It thinned into irregular patches, but even in the clear spots the sky was still a low, heavy gray. It seemed to her that the weather had been damp and depressing the entire month of December—until last night when Lir had appeared in her room, all dark, fiery energy.

  She had to keep him.

  She dragged a hand through her hair. Say something, Isleen. Anything. But her mind was blank.

  And then the island appeared, its rugged black cliffs and green hills rising out of the fog. Devlin was waiting for them at the marina, dressed for the ritual in a flowing silver shirt and black pants, his handsome face dark with anger. He was flanked by two of his top warriors and her current head bodyguard.

  She scowled. She was not in the mood to deal with her cousin and his welcoming committee.

  As soon as the boat docked, Dev was on the pier. “Where the bloody hell have you been?” he demanded, and without waiting for her answer, turned on Lir. “And what the fuck are you doing here, púca? I thought you were off playing cowboy in America.”

  “Leave off, Devlin.” Isleen ’ported to the dock in front of her cousin. “I went with Lir of my own free will—as you damn well know.” She’d felt the ping of energy when Devlin read her note.

  “You went with a púca.” Her cousin practically spit the word out. “How do I know it was of your own free will? That note didn’t stop me from worrying.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not my keeper, Dev. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a word with Lir—alone.”

  “Like hell.”

  Lir had followed her to the dock. Now Devlin jerked his head at the two warriors and they each grabbed one of his arms.

  Lir snarled and shook them off. Gold and silver sparkles danced over his body. Devlin raised a hand, his palm glowing as he prepared to shoot a fae ball. Lir’s lips peeled back. He dragged off his hoody and started to change to his stallion.

  Isleen sucked in a breath. She wasn’t sure which man would win, but neither scenario was good: either Lir would be seared by the fae ball or Devlin trampled under the púca’s magic hooves.

  She jumped between the men and slapped a hand on her cousin’s chest. “Damn it, Devlin. I said, Leave off. Lir is my guest. He’s under my personal protection for as long as he’s on the island.”

  Devlin growled but brought his hand down. The fae laws of hospitality were sacred. Not even he would break them with impunity.

  Lir bared his teeth but remained in his human form. “Go fuck yourself,” he told Devlin. “This time you’re not going to run me off. I’ll go when I’m good and ready.”

  They glared at each other for a tense few seconds and then her cousin ordered his men to stand down. “You always did have a thing for the fecking bastard,” he said to Isleen. “Don’t blame me if he bespells you. Hell, he probably already did.”

  She drew herself up to her full height. If it came down to it, she wasn’t sure who was stronger—but neither was Devlin. And she was older and had ruled the clan since before he was born.

  But just in case, she called on her magic. The air crackled and her hair lifted off her shoulders. Dev stiffened but held his ground.

  “What does he mean?” she demanded in a cold voice. “That this time you’re not going to run him off?”

  Devlin’s scowl deepened.

  “Forget it,” Lir said. “That’s between him and me.”

  “I want to know,” she said without taking her gaze from her cousin.

  “I told him,” Devlin replied with a dark look at Lir, “that if he stayed with you, the clan was going to t
urn against you. That he was a distraction you didn’t need.”

  Rage flared. So Dev had been partly to blame for Lir’s leaving. For a few seconds, she was so angry she could’ve cheerfully shot a fae bolt right between his interfering eyes. She drew a slow breath. “Damn you, Devlin,” she said in a voice shaking with anger. “You had no right—”

  Devlin paled, but he didn’t back down. “I did it for the clan, Isleen—and for you. Think back. Sindre got this close to killing you”—he pinched his index finger and thumb together—“because you were enthralled by your pet shifter.”

  Lir’s hand shot out. Before any of them could react, he had Devlin by the throat. “Call me a pet one more time, asshole”—his fingers tightened on Devlin—“and I’ll break your frigging neck. Yeah, Sindre almost got past me, but she’s still alive, isn’t she? And he got past you, too.”

  The three guards rushed forward, but she stopped them with a look. “I’ll handle this.” She set a hand on Lir’s arm. “Let him go, Lir. He’s not worth—”

  “Stay out of this,” he growled. “This has been a long time coming.”

  She hesitated, and then stepped back. Because frankly, her cousin had asked for it.

  The two men glared at each other for several fraught moments. Devlin had a hold of Lir’s wrist, and she could almost hear him weighing his options. Suddenly, energy leapt from Devlin’s fingertips and shot up Lir’s arm.

  Lir set his jaw and hung on. “I would die for her,” he said between clenched teeth. “Can you say the same, you arrogant S.O.B.?”

  They stared at each other while Isleen gulped. He would die for her?

  It was Devlin who looked away first. The energy stopped shooting from his fingertips.

  “I thought not,” Lir said. “Now apologize—to me and to Lady Isleen. I may be a shifter, but I’m nobody’s fucking pet—and to say otherwise insults both of us.”

  Devlin glanced from him to Isleen, then gave a taut nod. “I apologize.”

  Lir immediately released him, but remained where he was, face stony, while Devlin turned to Isleen.

  “Just to be clear, I beg your pardon as well, my lady.” He gave her a graceful bow.