Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) (19 page)

He didn’t push, though. He merely stood there, his
gaze searching hers for a long moment.

“I’ve come for your pendant,” he said at last.

His words sent a shock through her. Ailyn backed up a
step. No one knew of the pendant. Well, Quinlan knew. Daniel knew. But only
because she’d deemed it absolutely necessary. Her mother swore no Fae knew of
its existence. Ailyn had taken such care to keep it hidden no matter what,
strapping it to her chest most days. For years. “I dinna ken what you speak
of.”

“We’ve no time for lies and promises.” He stepped
toward her, his eyes hardening. He outstretched his palm. “Give it to me now,
Ailyn. It must be destroyed. Before the separation between mortals and Fae
disintegrates, leaving disorder and death in its wake.”

Her hand went instinctively to her chest. “How
d’you—?” Her pendant. It wasna there.

Quinlan veered his mount northward. He was losing the
light of day already. How could his anger have eaten up so many hours? He
shouldna have left Ailyn. He had but one other choice, though—throttle
her. Or wound her with words meant to cut as deeply as hers had into him.

That was the crux of his difficulty. Her rejection had
stabbed at him as sure as any sword ever had. Leaving her to her brother was
the best he could do, but now, hours later, he regretted doing so. Departing at
all was a selfish act, and he knew it. Lives were at stake, and he’d behaved no
better than a brokenhearted lad. He’d behaved worse today than ten years past
when he’d felt the sting of Breanne’s rejection.

He’d known Ailyn a matter of days, yet her declaration
that she’d not marry him hurt far, far worse than any heart pain he’d suffered
over Breanne. There was no sense or place for it. How could he have come to
feel so possessive of the lass in so small a span of time?

She attracted trouble better than clover did bees. She
could fight well and with courage but lacked the fortitude to keep her mind
clear and focused. She was not from his world. She would not remain in his
world. He had no call to want any different.

At long last, though, he’d had to face the truth.

Ailyn mattered to him.

Keenly so.

He clucked his horse forward, giving up his vain
attempt to make use of his ride by locating the area Daniel had trod. If Daniel
had left any path in his wake, it was either gone or Quinlan was so far off the
mark that giving up and returning was his best option.

He decided he’d not force Ailyn. He would respect her
heart, and even if her brother attempted to force their hands, he would honor
her decision. She was right. They were from two different worlds. They’d
dallied, but not enough to damage her virtue. In this world, she had no
reputation to consider, no social rank to damage. What occurred between them was
magickal, to be sure, but in the grander picture, moot.

Besides, if he entertained any other option, he would
end up compromising her.

Her lips were too full. Her eyes were too engulfing.
The tip of her chin, the curve of her collarbone, the way she felt in his arms,
the sound of her whimpers under his touch.

“Enough, Quinlan,” he chided himself. He had to banish
such thoughts. His body grew erect within seconds of them, and he knew how
easily lust clouded judgment. A clear head, wits about him, would mean the
difference between life and death—if what Daniel claimed was true.

Guilt pressed down upon him. Where was Daniel? He’d
not forgive himself if the lad had met harm. How could he face Breanne with
anything of the like? Perhaps he should leave Ailyn to her brother and search
Daniel out.

He pulled his mount to a halt and began to veer back
despite the darkening sky.

A piercing screech rent the air.

Quinlan halted again, the hairs on his neck standing
at attention. Alarm trickled down his spine, welling up in his chest.
Ailyn
. He abandoned his search and
kicked his stallion forward. He wove through the trees, cursing the quickly
vanishing daylight. Or was this darkening from hours passing? The low light was
not the mark of a coming storm, though. What else could drown the sun’s rays?
His alarm grew.

He urged his stallion into the clearing, scanning for
signs of her. “Ailyn!” he called, looking left, then right.

The fire had all but extinguished, leaving a few
burning embers behind. The blanket he had given Colm lay rumpled on the grass
far from the pool’s mossy bank. Quinlan slid off his horse and called out
again. “Ailyn!”

Where was she? Where was her brother?

The familiar eerie curl of dread wound through him,
identical to the night at the bonfire. Something was feeling its way through
this meadow. The seconds ticked by as he tethered his horse next to hers, still
there, quietly nipping at grass.

A thin, violet tendril appeared above the water,
lighting its surface. The glow revealed hair the color of the darkest, most
vibrant sunset, swirling beneath.
Ailyn!

Quinlan tugged his mantle free, kicked his shoes off,
and strode half-clad into the water. The bottom sloped at a steep angle. He
dove forward, reaching out. As his hands touched her shoulder, her head broke
the surface. Water splashed. She gasped for air, coughing. She took his hand,
then his arm. Her eyes searched his out through wet lashes.

“Help, please. It’s gone! My pendant. It’s gone,”
Ailyn pleaded.

His heart clenched. The severe scolding that had
formed on his lips died away. “Gone where, lass?”

“It must have fallen off when you tossed me in.” She
wiped at her face, at tears, he realized.

“Where is Colm?”

“He’s gone. A wolf again. He tried. He did. But the
water did something to him.” Her gaze fixed on something behind him, her eyes
widening. “Do you see that?”

If she meant the growing amethyst shimmer surrounding
them in pale wisps, then, aye, he saw. Her eyes met his. “The veil?”

Quinlan shook his head. Was she asking him? The eerie
sensation he’d had on land didna follow him into the water. Here, they were
safe. He pulled her closer, craving her heat, needing to feel her securely
against him. “I dinna ken what it is. Your
sidhe
magick?”

Ailyn frowned. She shook her head. “Not the veil. It’s
different. I dinna ken what it is, either.” Her eyes went to his mouth. She
licked her lips. “Will you help me, Quinlan?”

He nearly groaned. Aye, he’d help her. He’d do
anything for her in that moment. Anything she asked of him. He drew her weight
even closer so that her hips hit his waist. His groin hardened. He fought to
think straight. “What do you need of me, lass?”

She swallowed. Again, she looked at his mouth. “Help
me find my pendant?”

When she looked back into his eyes, what he saw there
sucked the breath from his lungs. She wanted him. Badly. And she looked as
wrought with conflict over it as he now felt. The smoky hue around them pinked,
then burned a brilliant gold. Quinlan hungered to taste her mouth, to move her
body against his as they kicked to keep afloat. He wanted to lick the droplets
of water from her chin and nose, to warm her skin with his.

To drive into her tight heat. To hear his name on her
lips.

“Ailyn,” he said, hoarse.

The now-amber light lit the watery depths, showing the
shape of her breast crushed against his arm. Her thighs as her legs swept side
to side as the kept afloat. Her lashes seemed to sparkle, wet, framing her
beseeching eyes.

Quinlan’s erection throbbed. But he nodded. “Aye,
lass. I’ll help.”

She pulled away, swimming back. The lit water revealed
her tunic billowing upward. The creamy expanse of her slender waist begged for
his touch. The bottom curve of her breasts peeked out. Christ, he wanted her.
Adjusting his aching prick, he gulped air and dove under the surface. He had to
escape such a delectable view before it undid him.

This was entirely his fault.

Had he not tossed her in, her pendant would be still
with her. His guilty mind wanted it to be untrue. It wanted to argue how many
other ways the pendant could have been lost. That Kristoph had in fact found it
and taken it. That Colm had stolen it somehow, tricking his sister. That the
man he met wasna her brother at all, but the sorcerer in disguise.

Ailyn might attract trouble, she might have behaved
rashly a time or two, but at no point had she been unwilling to accept matters.
He had to trust that she’d already considered all other possibilities in his
absence.

He looked for the gold chain, the small, pale stone.
He fingered through the fronds, careful not to disturb the earth. Her toe
touched his leg. His lungs begged for air. He swam back upward into the golden
glow. Unfortunately, the lit depths displayed more of her. The curve of her
bottom, the hollow of her hips. The rosy color of two taut nipples beneath the
pooling fabric of her shirt. Her legs opening and closing. Quinlan looked away,
diving deeper, scanning the green fronds along the bottom once more.

Her foot grazed his thigh. He caught it for a moment
to let her know he was there. She stilled, then sank under, the question in her
eyes. Had he found it? Quinlan shook his head, hating the disappointment
crossing her features.

She dove down past him as he broke the surface upward.
The sky was dark above the pool, the trees lit here and there with the strange
magickal wisps. Quinlan listened in the stillness, realizing the water had
warmed as well as the air. As warm as a summer day, but without the glare of
sunlight. The images of her body warred in his thoughts with the urge to help
her.

Where else could they look? The pool was small enough,
he supposed. Searching it to her satisfaction was the best solution. Deep down,
though, he sensed they’d not find it.

When she broke the surface a moment later, he reached
for her, pulling her close so that she could rest her weight on his arm. “If I
dinna find it—” Her voice cracked. Her chin trembled.

“Shh,” Quinlan said, tucking her chin with his thumb.
“We’ll find it.”

She pursed her lips, blinked back the wetness in her
eyes, and nodded. “Thank you.”

He kissed her. He couldn’t survive another breath
without kissing her. The shine in her eyes, the glow about her cheeks, and the
magick around them conspired against his good intentions. He pressed his lips
to hers without reserve. He released his hunger in full upon her and she
answered in kind. She closed the space between their bodies, grabbing his head
and moaning.

She tasted like honey and heaven. Quinlan could drown
in the very feel of her. Water hit his chin. Their bodies were sinking. He
pushed his legs out, sending them toward the shore and twisted so that she
landed beneath him upon the shallow slope. He cupped her head, easing it
against the soft ground. He swept under her back to push away any rocks.

He needed her. His very sanity hinged upon keeping her
in this embrace a bit longer. And then a bit longer than that. He devoured her
mouth, moving his tongue against hers, reveling in the pliant feel of her body.
She fit to him so finely.

The warm water ebbed at her ribs, floating her hips up
to his.

He couldn’t do it.

Honor said he must stop. She had refused him, had no
desire to marry him. To continue was to utterly disregard her choice. To remove
all choice and force her hand in marriage. How could he stop this bliss,
though? He could take her. He could feel it in her every move.

Nay
.

He broke the kiss. Ailyn opened her eyes. “Dinna stop,
Quin. Please,” she said.

His fragile hold on reason broke. Groaning deeply,, he
cupped her naked, wet breast and kissed her throat. Ailyn moaned, holding his
head, arching into his palm. He flicked his thumb over her hard nipple. She
gasped. His prick ached, straining against the cumbersome material.

Then her hand was at his waist, slipped under the wet
cloth. When she grasped his erection into her warm hand, Quinlan almost bucked.
Her touch might have spilled his seed if not for years of practice. Still, he’d
not experienced such intense lust for a woman in all his years. He blamed the
strangely deep possessive feelings she’d inspired in him. He wanted to claim
her in an indelible way, to brand her soul.

He wanted to hear her say his name.

Her hand squeezed. She stroked his flesh. He squeezed
her breast hard, gripped by the play of passion on her features, in her
movements. Her eyes did not shy from his. They held his gaze intently, a fire
for him burning in their depths.

Quinlan tugged her breeches down her hips. “Say it,
lass. Tell me again.”

“Dinna stop.”

Her eyes closed as he pushed his hand downward, her
body curving to meet him. Soft, wet curls tickled his fingertips. Her lids
fluttered open.

“This is madness,” she said.

“Aye. Madness, to be sure, but I canno’ hold back any
longer, Ailyn. Unless you tell me to stop, I canno’.” He slipped one finger
into her exquisite heat, thrilling at the way her lips parted in pleasure. “I
ache for you.”