Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) (23 page)

Then he heard a whisper. “Ailyn,” a soft female voice
said near his ear.

Quinlan jerked, every muscle in his body tensing. He
scooted left, away from the sound as his stare pinned to the darkness beyond
the light. “Who’s there?” He drew Ailyn’s dagger from her thigh, giving her a
hard shake. “Wake up, lass.” He raised the blade. “Show yourself,” he demanded.

“Please,” the voice said. “Dinna wake her.”

Quinlan moved to do just the opposite then froze as
the visage of a woman materialized before him. Jerking, he swiped the fisted
dagger through the air, intent on pushing her back. But his fist met naught but
warm air. Her form grew opaque until he would swear she was as flesh and blood
as he, sitting at his side, her gaze on Ailyn.

“What are you?” he asked, unable to stand or lift the
woman in his arms to safety.

Her eyes went to his and in an instant, he knew. He
knew because they were the exact hue of Ailyn’s. She reached her hand out as
though to stroke her daughter’s cheek. When her hand merely dissolved, though,
Quinlan could feel her disappointment as keenly as though it was his own.

“Look how’s she’s grown,” she said, her brows flashing
together, love shining in her eyes. “My sweetest little bird.” She looked at
him again. “Thank you for protecting her.”

He shook his head, feeling he’d done little. “I’ve put
us in a quandary now, though, haven’t I? She misses you dearly.”

She smiled. “And I her. But dinna wake her, or I’ll
vanish. Such is the way. I am too close to her heart for her to see.”

Her pain pierced into him, the bitter sweetness of
Ailyn’s mother’s joy and loss palpable within him. “I’ll keep her safe. I vow
it.”

“Aye, I believed you would. You were a good choice.
I’ve made so few along the way.”

“What d’you—?”

She held a finger up, imploring him to listen. “They
dinna need the pendant, Quinlan.”

Something inside him eased. The relief was rapidly
replaced by guilt. “I’ve hid us away for naught, then? Veritably trapped us?”

 
She shook
her head, grinning. “Nay. You’ve done best by you both. The pendant is a key,
aye, but it isna meant to unlock the bloodstone. It is designed to bring the
three elements together. Sun, moon, and stone.”

“Bloodstone.”

She nodded, her eyes searching his.

“Maera represents the moon.”

“A woman born of the moon will inherit its lineage and
its legacy, aye, but Maera isna the heiress.”

“Ailyn is,” he said, knowing it to be as true and as
simple as the signs of a storm on the horizon. “Nay.”

Empathy shone on her face and deep concern. The
concern of a mother. More so, the concern of widespread consequences. “The moon
holds the stone and infuses it with the source power of Tara. But not without
its sun counterpart.”

Quinlan scowled, confused. “Colm?”

She tipped her head and shook it, clearly losing her
patience. Ailyn stirred. Her mother faded. Her mouth moved but her words
blurred.

“Wait,” Quinlan said, dropping the dagger and reaching
out. “Tell me.”

She mouthed one word, again and again. But he couldna
trust how his mind translated it, for the information made no sense. Kissing
her hand, she hovered it over Ailyn’s forehead. The lass lurched upright, awake,
groggily glancing about. Her mother was gone, but her words yet pressed his
thoughts.
You
.
You are the sun
.

Ailyn quickly got to her feet, stabbing an accusing
finger at the ground. Nay, not the ground. At her pendant. “I can think of but
one way my pendant could have gotten here, Quinlan.” Her eyes glittered with
anger—or was it fear? “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Chapter Twenty-one

“You must find them, Danny,” Breanne said. The deep
abdominal cramping eased, and Breanne released a long breath with it. She
resisted the urge to sink into the nearby chair. “Dinna fash yerself. Holing
them up in the passageway was the safest, smartest move, to be sure.”

“The tunnels weave three paths, Breanne. Are you
certain they are not best left—is the babe coming?!”

“I’m fine. I swear it. I’ve plenty of time before my
daughter arrives.”

“I’m getting Ashlon.”

“Dinna!”

Thankfully, her brother halted. Her iron grip on his
arm might have helped matters a bit.

“Danny, they’ll die if you abandon them!” Another
contraction set its teeth into her belly. This baby was on her way, no matter
how inconvenient the timing. But she had to hold out as long as possible. “Or
worse, be found!”

“Breanne, death is far worse than being found.”

She shook her head; Breanne was unable to speak
because of the effort it took to conceal the effects of her pains.

“The rite is tonight, Breanne. Why not wait until
dawn?”

She shook her head vehemently this time, pressing her
lips together. Her husband would return at any moment. She had sent him to give
word to her mother. She doubted Una would have the strength to aid her daughter
through delivery, but Breanne had small hope otherwise. If not, she had Rose.
Rose would see her through. Rose would be here soon enough, too.

“If we wait until dawn, we risk their lives
threefold.” How did she make Danny understand without sharing so much that he
actually understood?
Men!
They were
the most difficult to protect. Why couldn’t they simply trust her and obey her
wishes? “The rite could work without them.”

“The testimony of Elnor states—”

“Elnor or whoever else has not had a presage with
Quinlan’s death at hand, Danny,” she ground out. She hated when he spoke of the
texts as though she knew them as well as he. “The magick will find them, and
thereby the sect. We might be too late already.”

If only her visions had shown her the face of the
human betrayer. Someone of her world had been colluding with the
sidhe
sorcerer of Ailyn’s world. He bore
the crescent mark on his throat.

In her vision this morn, using her scrying mirror, she
saw Quinlan reveal the mark as he pushed and struggled against the other man.
Much was familiar about the man who held Quinlan by the throat, but not enough
of the vision came through to allow Breanne certainty. It was a blur. All she
could feel was Quinlan’s desperation for air, for help to come. Fear
overwhelmed her. Fear and determination to keep something hidden at all costs.
What was Quinlan hiding?

“Breanne?!” Danny’s voice penetrated her spinning
thoughts.

She realized that she was doubled over. The
contraction had conjured the vision again. Straightening up now that the pain
eased, but also knowing she hadn’t much time, she pinned Danny with a hard
stare.

“Find them, Danny. You put them there; now release
them, ’ere it’s too late.”

“They’re sealed in, Breanne.”

“Unseal them.”

A loud pounding interrupted Danny’s forthcoming
question. Rose barreled into the room, a basket of linens on one hip, and a jug
on the other. “Danny, lad. What are you doing here? Off with you, now.”

“I’ll be needing but another moment, Rose.” Danny
shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “In fact, I’ll be asking you for
priv—”

“Hah! I’ll be hearing that one after you carry a child
in your womb, and then push it out into the world for twenty hours, Danny O’Donnell.
There’s naught you’ve got to say that canno’ wait until this babe arrives. Now,
off with you.”

Having set down her burdens, Rose had no qualms about
shoving Danny out the door.

Breanne couldn’t stop her even if she wanted to.
Another contraction hardened her belly, a deep wave of pain that spread down
her legs and around her back. Her tension of fear for Quinlan eased, though.
Danny would find them. He would do as she’d asked. Among the few people she
could trust, she counted on her brother. She also counted on Rose.

“There now, Bree,” Rose said, taking her by the
shoulders. “Come lie down. Or do you have the urge to sit instead, love?”

“Sit,” Breanne said, holding on to her ample-bodied
friend. Gratitude filled her as Rose positioned her on the corner of the bed so
that her legs straddled each side.

“Lean forward a bit. How’s that?”

Breanne nodded. “Better, aye.” This time, as the
contraction began, the pain was far less intense. Instead, she felt a sense of
pressure more. She sighed her relief, barely noting the thud of a door in the
main hall.

“That’ll be your husband,” Rose said.

Breanne nodded, hoping Rose was wrong and that it was
Danny leaving. If she could lean out the window. … “Apprise Ashlon, will you,
Rose?”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “Will you be up to something
if I do, Bree? Or do you give me your word you’ll stay put?”

Her friend knew her too well. “I promise.” Truth be
told, she only did so because another contraction was building. This one hurt
unlike the others. This one made her moan.

“Do you promise on our friendship, Breanne? On the
very life about to greet us?”

Breanne rolled her eyes. “Aye, Rose,” she gasped. “Now
please go. Check.” She suddenly missed her mother very much. She longed to have
her there to make it all okay. Though she knew better, she hoped Ashlon had
been able to bring Una.

“None of that wailing and moaning, either,” Rose said
as she strode to the door. “A quiet birth is what we’ll be having. One filled
with love and peace.”

Breanne would have snorted had she the wherewithal,
remembering full well just how ear-piercing each of Rose’s births had been.
Rose shut the door after her, leaving Breanne in the grip of a contraction.
Sweat broke over her skin, beading her forehead. She hadn’t the ability to wipe
the droplets away, though. A trickle slid down her nose.

Not sweat, she realized. Blood. Not hers, either, she
knew. Another’s blood. The vision slammed down upon her. The deep wave of pain
in her echoed in the other, the one she now saw through. The sweat trickled as
blood. A low humming surrounded her. A whirring noise. Heat. Flames.

Where was she? The rite. Tonight’s rite.

Who was she? Quinlan?

Nay. This was a woman. The deep pain in Breanne’s
abdomen echoed in the woman’s. Her own prayers for her babe’s health and well-being
rang louder in the other woman’s.

This was Maera?

Aye. She saw as Maera, and knew she feared for the
babe in her belly. Colm’s babe. Where was Colm? Where was Ailyn? This was not
what had been promised her. To save her mother, her kingdom, she had cooperated.
Only to be betrayed.

Breanne looked down and around through Maera’s eyes,
searching for signs of those she knew and loved among the fire and shadows.
Naught but painted bodies and faces greeted her through the dark, though, until
one came into sharp focus. The mask of a bull on a man with a large, naked
barrel chest. He walked toward her, chanting louder and louder. She wanted to
put her hands up, but they were tied behind her. To something wooden. A tree?
The rough bark confirmed it. She wriggled her wrists, scraping her skin. The
blood droplet tickled her nose. The wound it came from throbbed. Her stomach
cramped. The masked man loomed closer. He held an arm out, showing her
something dangling from his fingers.

Breanne cared less for the necklace. She was far more
concerned about the deep blue stone in his hand. By Morrigan, no other object
glowed like that except the bloodstone. How had they found it? Warm, wet fluid
streamed down her legs.

The door shut, and Breanne’s attention snapped back
into the room.

“I swear, you’ll be the death of me, Bree,” Rose
admonished. “You promised to stay put. Look at you!”

Breanne had managed to get atop the bed and stand up.
Her arms reached forward. Recognizing how precarious a position it was for a
person in her state, Breanne gladly took her friend’s offered hands.

“Was Danny gone, then? Is my mother coming?”

Rose eased her back into the sitting position she’d
left her in, nodding. “Danny is gone. I made sure of it.”

“But my mother?” Disappointment hit her.

“She’s a bit tired, is all. Sir Ashlon said Niall
promised to bring her once she rose from her rest.”

“Ah, Rose. I dinna know what to think of Niall’s
excuses of late. Either he’s hiding her to manage her, or she’s truly not
well.”

“I dinna ken it either, Bree. What I do know is that
he loves her to distraction. And what else I do know is that you’ll be having
this baby sooner than later. Your water broke, love. It’s almost time.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Ailyn saw distress pass over his face. How had her pendant
found its way here? How could they remain safe or concealed? Were they no
longer safe and concealed? “Kristoph.”

Quinlan did not speak. He bent and retrieved the
necklace. Its glow faded in his palm as he handed it back to her. “No, lass.
Your sorcerer hasna found us.”

“Then how?” She took the small stone, pressing it to
her chest. The glow disappeared, leaving only shadows. Only dawn’s first rays
penetrated the cavern.

He squared his shoulders in the fading light. “I found
it at the pond whilst you and Daniel spoke.” He drew a ragged breath. “I kept
it from you.”

Ailyn placed the chain around her neck. “I should be
angry, I suppose. But I ken why you would do so. You mean to protect me. At
every turn, you aim to protect me.”

He stepped forward. “Aye, lass. I regret deceiving
you, though.”

There was no relief in his tone, though. “There is
more, isn’t there?”

Had his eyes clouded over, or was that her
imagination, her mind filling in his features in the darkness? He took her hand
and pulled her closer. “There is always more.”

She almost smiled, feeling the length of him so near.
But something within moved her to resist. “Dinna tease, Quinlan. Dinna mask the
truth from me with your charm. Not this time.”

His smile fell. He squeezed her hand, and then led her
to the mouth of the cave. He faced her, his expression stormy. Seemingly
searching for words, naught but the sounds of the sea filled the air. The chill
breeze fingered through her hair. Heat flashed in her chest. The heat of dread.
She wouldna like what he would say. She could feel it. But there was nowhere to
run. Or hide. Even if there were, she had to hold her ground. Her liege, her
brother, needed her to be the fighter they thought her to be. Strong, brave,
capable.

She felt none of these things, but certainly hearing
whatever dooming words were to come marked a first step toward living up to her
heritage and training.

His expression nigh pained, Quinlan reached for her.
He wove his fingers into her hair and drew her close. His hard body pressed against
hers.

“Just tell me, Quin.”

“I haven’t the words to make what I know understood,
Ailyn.” He grazed her cheek with his thumb. “But I will show you, if you will
allow me.”

Her throat trembled. Ailyn swallowed against the
flutter, sending it racing down her belly.

His eyes on hers, he leaned down, tipping her head up.
He kissed the tip of her nose, closing his eyes, furrowing his brow. Ailyn
closed her eyes as his mouth moved to kiss one shut lid, then the other. His
hand splayed over her lower back, pressing her closer.

Her heart could not take any more tenderness. If he
held her close even a moment longer, she would be lost to an emotion she did
not trust. An emotion that drove men to commit awful acts. An emotion that had
stolen her mother’s inner light, once lost.

Love.

She wanted a lifetime free of the anguish, the joys,
and the fears that love wrought. “I canno’, Quinlan.” Her hands found his
chest, and though they longed to wind around his neck, she forced them to push
instead. “I should never have succumbed to my attraction for you. I’ll not
marry you. I’ll not stay in this world.”

“You doubt what we shared? Is that it, Ailyn?”

“I harbor no doubts, Quinlan,” she lied. “I know what
we shared. But had magick not seduced us, I also know we would not be tempted
so readily now.”

“You would rather believe what we shared wasna of our
own free will?” He released her, albeit reluctantly.

Everything within her warned her to take care with her
words. She meant no insult to him. What they had shared went beyond any
pleasure she could have guessed existed. “I make no claims on free will. I only
know that an enchantment such as that we experienced makes refusal nigh
impossible. There is no room for clear thinking.”

“You believe a spell fell upon us?”

Thankfully, he sounded curious more than offended.
Perhaps what he meant to share with her wasna the fate-altering news she had
sensed coming. “Do you not? Did it not feel as though time itself suspended,
Quin? That canno’ be real.”

“Can’t it be real, Ailyn? Do you not ken, lass? That
spell wasna sent from your sorcerer. You made that magick. You and I.” He
pulled her back to him, his hands cupping her face. His breathtaking eyes nigh
consumed her with their intensity.

“I’ll not be manipulated by such forces.” She refused
to be tricked into hoping that what they shared was destined. To hope such
things courted the steep likelihood of a crushing loss. If they made love
again, she would certainly lose her heart to him forever.

“Are you of a mind that I would never have made love
to you if not for the forces surrounding us?”

Emotion nigh choked her. She wanted to believe
otherwise, but simultaneously feared believing otherwise. Better to decide the
magick had taken over. “I wish it were not true, Quinlan, but I am not of the
blood that beckons mag—”

He pressed his mouth down upon hers, kissing her hard
this time. She pushed away from him, breaking his hold, separating their
bodies. “You canno’ kiss the truth away, Quin.”

“Nay, I canno’. But I can prove my words. What do you
fear, Ailyn? That our joining conjures an enchantment more powerful than
anything either of our worlds has witnessed?”

“I fear that, aye,” she shot back. “I fear the magick.
I fear losing my heart because of it. I fear feeling shattered when I must walk
away from you. Because I will walk away. I must.”

“Nay, you fear that I could not possibly love you
simply for you, lass.”

His words hit her with raw power. She retreated from
the cave mouth. He took her hand, stopping her. “Ailyn, I vow to see you
through this. If you need me to shut my heart’s desires away, I will. Dinna
walk away, though. Stay.”

A well of grief and joy strangled her. It swelled
through her, drowning reason. Against her better judgment, when he tugged her
back to him, she followed. When his lips met hers, she matched each kiss. When
his passion loosened upon her, she released her tight hold on her own. This was
madness. She would regret such madness for all her days, to be sure, but she
couldna deny it.

To deny it would be more wrong; however, it was more
dishonesty than she could live with.

“Aye, lass,” he murmured against her throat. “Let me
show you. I’ll give the world for the chance to show you my love.”

Stronger, fiercer than the waves crashing against the
jagged surface below, Ailyn’s final hold on the thick wall of protection she’d
long ago built around her heart crumbled. She held onto Quinlan’s shoulders,
hungrily matching his every lick, nip, and tease.

She had told herself she was merely curious. Then he
had satisfied her curiosity and kissed her.

She had told herself it was merely magick. Now he
proved that this surpassed enchantments.

Nay, not surpassed. Invoked. The same sparkling
sensation from before at the pond’s mossy bank began a tingling trail up her
arms and down her thighs. Quinlan’s hands cupped her breasts. The tingles
followed. Her nipples hardened. As did his body, proof of his desire pressed
her pelvis. A thrill raced through her. He wanted her. Needed her. He might
even love her.

Nay, she’d not think of love. She’d not permit her
fears to pierce this wondrous, intoxicating bliss. She wished instead for what
they shared to push reality away. Quinlan fulfilled her wish, trailing hot
kisses down her neck and over her collarbone, murmuring her name like a prayer.

Ailyn,
Ailyn.

He pulled her tunic off, capturing a nipple in his
mouth as he lifted her to straddle his waist. Unfalteringly, he knelt to the
ground, keeping her at his hips. His erection bulged against her, leaving no
question as to his passion for her. One arm held her steady as the other
encouraged the rest of her clothes off. His mantle became a shroud around them
against the chill wind of the arriving day.

The briny air whipped around them. His earthy scent
enveloped her senses. Her ache for him built deep within her, coiling tighter
and tighter. It became like a hunger, demanding more. She adjusted her legs so
that her sex found his flesh. The shock of finding his prick uncovered quickly
dissipated behind the delicious feel of his silky shaft against her wet sex.

“Christ, lass, you’re heaven itself.” He pressed his
forehead to her shoulder, panting. “Dinna wriggle so much, or you’ll undo me
here and now.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but a deep sense of
power filled her. She felt beautiful, strong, and vulnerable all at once. A
strand of gold light swept through the air, circling above his head. Ailyn
fully opened her eyes, gasping. Quinlan’s head drew back. He looked at her
through heavy-lidded eyes. Her body throbbed. His handsomeness nigh devastated
her heart. To find such honor, such strength and tenderness beneath such beauty
was a rare gift, to be sure.

An impish grin spread over his face. “D’you see it,
too, lass?”

She nodded, the strands of gold thickening around
them. The tingling power pulsed in the air.

“We make magick, you and I,” he said. Holding his gaze
to hers, he positioned his body to hers. The restraint clear in his every move,
he slowly slid into her, gasping. His hand fisted in her hair, pulling it as
his shaft buried into her
deepmost
part.

Exquisite pleasure ricocheted through her. “Quinlan,”
she moaned. She had no more words and trusted her plea for more to show in her
eyes.

One hand held to her hair. The other held her hip,
squeezing, directing her up and down his thick, hard length. Pleasure stroked
through her again and again, gathering, spreading, and coalescing. The golden
hue surrounded them, ebbing to pink and violet. Ailyn held his shoulders,
following his movements, driving her hips onto his harder and harder, again and
again. She chased the sweet promise of release closer and closer, all the while
wanting it to last.

As did he, she surmised, when he stopped her hips a
moment. He shut his eyes as though in pain. Aye, waiting was painful, as was
the thought of this ecstasy ending. She liked keeping reality at bay. She
thrilled over this unknown world that their bodies created. She did not want it
to end. Yet the craving nagged her so deeply. And his prick felt so, so
delectable inside her. She tipped her hips forward. A spasm shot through her,
making her cry out his name again. “Quin, I canno’—”

He opened his eyes, his gaze fierce, nearly angry. He
stilled her hips. Inside her, his body throbbed. “I am yours, lass. Let no one
make you doubt what you mean to me. Swear it to me.”

 
“I swear
it,” she said, another splash of pleasure washing through her.

“Say the words, Ailyn. I am yours.”

“You are mine, Quinlan,” she swore and meant it to the
depths of her soul. “And I am yours.”

Satisfaction spread over his face. He pulled her hips
forward, sliding out of her. In. Out again. Hot, wet, and so fantastically hard
that nothing could stop her body from attempting to swallow him into her.
Climax spiraled through her. Her body gripped onto his prick again and again.

He released a guttural moan through clenched teeth,
his fingers nigh hurting her in their grip as he shot his seed into her.
Releasing her hair and hips, he wrapped his arms around her. He buried her face
in her neck, kissing her here and there.

The billowing, lavender hues muted to gold until it
dissipated into the light of the dawn. Reality crashed back down upon Ailyn as
hard as any wave below. Twice she’d made love to Quinlan. The first time, she
could allow herself to believe the idea that no babe would come of their
joining. Now, though, she could not deny the possibility.

Nor could she deny her heart’s longing for him to be
hers forever. To do so, though, meant never returning to her world. A weight
settled upon her. There was no room to revel in this new realization, no space
to explore this new emotion. Rejoicing would be premature. So she buried her
hopes and joy deep.

Claiming to be his did not make it so.

There seemed to be nothing that could make it so.

As though he felt reality pressing down as well,
Quinlan lifted his head and stood, moving her gently to stand before him. A
wealth of wordless emotion hung between them. Ailyn could not hold his intense
gaze, glancing for her clothes instead. He bent to help her retrieve them.

“If we can locate an exit, I think we should get to Tir
Conaill. To Breanne.”

Tugging her tunic on, Ailyn nodded. Her thighs were an
aching, shaky reminder of what they shared, now gone. “Aye, if Maera is well,
given that I have my pendant again, I’d like to try to conjure the veil
somehow.”
 
Her chest squeezed. “To
return home.”