Legend 4 - Free Falling (7 page)

“Sorry … do excuse me,” he said in that beautiful, musical Irish, “but I think I have strayed off my path and am hopelessly lost. I would appreciate it if you could point me in the right direction.”

I managed to remember my manners and smiled. I liked the color of his chestnut-shaded hair and the way it fell in thick layers around his really good-looking face. I liked his smiling hazel eyes. He was wearing a denim jacket over jeans and a heavy, earthy-colored sweater. He had a thick blade of wheat between his long fingers.

However, in spite of these excellent attributes, he was on
my
land, and I didn’t know him. I was immediately suspicious—after my father’s death, I was always suspicious. After all, we were at war with the Dark Fae, and one had to remain on one’s guard, because they had been enlisting humans to aid them in their ‘takeover’ war.

Still—he gave off really pleasant vibes. That was in his favor. “Well, you are fairly deep onto MacDaun land. Where did you come from, and where do you want to go?” I asked. The woman in me put on the warm and sexy smile—couldn’t help it. It was a spontaneous thing. After all, he was getting better looking by the minute, and I hadn’t had much fun in a very long time.

He extended his large hand. “I’m Aaron Dunbar … and I came from Dunbar Grange and I am hoping to make my way back there. I swear I think I have been wandering about for hours. I don’t know how I got turned about, but I did.”

His Irish brogue was as pretty as his face. He wasn’t Scot—and he was a stranger—I reminded myself, and then idiotically smiled again anyway. I love both Irish and Scot accents—mine hints New York in a big way.

“Well,
you are
a long way from home.” I eyed him curiously, “Are you related to the Dunbar family?”

“Aye—I’m his great-nephew. My parents are also gone, so I inherited when he passed, back in May, but it took me a little time to settle up my affairs in Killarney—and make my way here.”

I had been surprised when we lost the squire, as he had had been a frequent visitor at MacDaun and always seemed so robust. He had been very friendly with my dad. In spite of the squire’s eighty-five years, we (everyone) had been so shocked when he died. Heart attack, the local doctor had said. At any rate, I had never heard him mention a great-nephew. That didn’t mean anything, as I wasn’t really sure I would have remembered anyway.

I took his hand and allowed him to give me a friendly shake. “I am Radzia MacDaun. I’m heading back now, so you can walk with me. No more than half a mile more from here I’ll be able to point you in the right direction.”

“Oh, that would be grand.”

It was his turn to eye me and quite openly at that. I couldn’t help but feel womanly flattered as his eyes lit with appreciation. “I hope I am not being rude, but you don’t sound Scottish, Radzia MacDaun?”

I laughed. “That is because for most of my life I was raised in the good ol’ USA—New York, in fact.”

He grinned. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you have been studying me like I could be some mastermind thief about to case the joint,” he teased. “New Yorkers, I know, are suspicious of everyone and everything.
They sell
Brooklyn bridges—they
don’t buy
them.”

I laughed out loud at that. It felt good. “You can leave New York, but it never leaves you.”

“Aye, I had a friend … from Queens in fact, that told me that a time or two.”

“Queens, huh?”

“In fact, I only just got in from New York a few weeks ago,” he added as he looked up at the sky. “Och nooo …”

I looked up as well and groaned. “Yup—looks like we are going to get wet. Ready to jog a little?”

“That oi am, girl … that oi am,” he said jovially, playing the accent thick and strong. I liked his twinkle. We both began picking up the pace.

We made it to the country road that would take him to Dunbar, but before he left me he grinned and asked, “Well now, Radzia MacDaun, I’ll be beholding to you even more if you would accompany me to town this evening and allow me to buy you a pint?”

Whoa … normally, I think I would have readily accepted, but things weren’t normal for me. A large part of me (at least the part that used to be me) wanted to say yes. It would have been fun to go into town with this handsome guy and forget the hate inside my innards. But I couldn’t—I just wasn’t ready to have fun, and what if it went further? What if I really liked him? I didn’t have the right to draw him into my mad world.

“I would love to, but …”

He clucked his tongue and shook his head. A comical look came over his face, and I almost changed my mind and said I would go. He said, “I must be daft! You hardly know me, and you probably have them lined up down the road waiting on ye …?”

I laughed. “Not exactly, but I do have a houseguest and …”

“Another time then?”

“Sure,” I said before I could stop myself. He nodded, obviously content with that, and started off. I stood for a long moment and watched his back. Well, I would have to avoid that ‘another time’. Wasn’t I just a stupid girl?

I had a high school friend, Shirelle, who was still a dear friend, but she was finishing up at Ohio State while there I was … At any rate, she would go off on me when I would turn down a guy she thought was a serious hotty. She would tell me, up and down and all around, just why I was being foolish. I could hear her now ranting and raving, finishing up with ‘
Do you feel me, girl, do you feel what I am saying?’

Oh yes, I can feel you, Shirelle.

~ Eight ~

I SHRUGGED OUT OF my wet leather jacket and hung it on the hall coat hook to drip dry on the tiled floor. I then went and got a towel and dropped it down, dried up the floor, and left it there to catch any further dripping.

It wasn’t the first time I had gone through this routine. I left my hiking boots there as well on the boot rack in the corner near the door. I ran upstairs in my stocking feet, threw my wet socks into my hamper, took a quickie hot shower, and hurriedly went through the drying and dressing routine. Jeans and another favorite blue sweater were on, and I slipped into a pair of black, comfortable ballet slippers before making my way downstairs.

I listened for Danté and wondered if he had returned, and if not, why not? I was a curious cat, and I wanted to know just what he had been recalled to the Isles of Tir to do.

Did it involve Gaiscioch? Of course it did. Just what was happening, and would he tell me? Why had the queen summoned him so abruptly? I toyed with the idea of wheedling information from him. That made me smile to myself. Yeah, right—like Danté would answer any questions put to him from me! The fact was, it was difficult to imagine Danté obediently answering to anyone—even Queen Aaibhe.

I made my way into the weapons room. I really didn’t feel like training, but I did feel like music. Hard-core rock ’n’ roll as loud as the speakers could manage. Do I sound like a teen? Well … sometimes, that is who we all are somewhere deep inside.

I didn’t know what was in the system, but I pushed the button. Of all the songs that should play—out came Eric Clapton’s “Layla”.

It had been one of my dad’s favorites
.

I could see him then in my mind—grinning as he strummed his guitar and followed my mom around the room, the house, using her name as a substitute as he sang, as he danced and intoxicated her with his charm. She would drop what she was doing and sway with him—put her arms around his neck and sing with him. I used to roll my eyes at them, but secretly I adored watching them …

Once upon a time, I had dreamt of having a love like that. No more. Who needed the kind of hurt that might come from a love like that being torn apart?
Not me
.

Still, the mood it elicited from me swept through my senses, tickled my Fae DNA, and infused me with longing. The music was slow and sensual; my fantasy of ‘maybes’ came alive and took over my body. For so many reasons, I was a ball of fire, ready to explode, but at that moment, for that song, I gave myself over to the gentle, hot beat. Conflicting emotions pulled at me, and I pushed them aside. Just then, I wanted to lose the persona I had become and be the person I had been. The thirst for revenge was still there and strong, but for the moment so was the need to lose myself to the music.

And I did—lose myself as I danced and sang my heart out—and in those moments I wanted with every fiber of my being for a man to love me to the exclusion of all else. Just for a fleeting time as I glided and swayed to the beat I wondered what it would feel like to have a mate who adored me above all else. In those moments, there in the weapons room, I just let go because I was alone and I needed too many things. I guess I did some free falling all my own.

The music rocked me, and I danced to its seductive beat. My needs were cavernous, and I released them into the music, the rhythm. Then, without warning, I felt a presence in the room with me and opened my eyes.

He stood there in his human Glamour, looking larger than a football player dressed in full playing gear. He stood there looking hotter than the dreamiest eye candy I had ever seen in my entire life. His tawny auburn hair, which was usually slicked back, braided, and tethered at the nape of his neck, was loose and framed his handsome face. He stood still—looking feral, like a wolf that had just singled out a target. He stood with a hunger in his gold-dust eyes—a hunger I had never imagined him capable of feeling.

Fae are drawn to music. It is part of who they are—and I am Fae. It was the Fae that brought the music with them from Danu. They totally appreciate it, their bodies respond to it, and still, I felt some measure of surprise as I watched him move easily, gracefully, sexually to the sensual beat. He was primal, and yet he became part of the music, and I was drawn to him, moved in on him …

I had never imagined he could move like that. Danté’s steps were measured and yet exquisitely erotic as his electricity flowed from his body into mine. When we touched, hands to hands between our bodies, I felt a reverberating shock spin through me.

Shit!
I was a pot of conflicting emotions. My youth was tearing at my brain, and my brain was shouting at my body. My body couldn’t listen to my brain, because it raged with sudden, uncontrollable need. In that moment I was filled with wanting—wanting life, wanting music, wanting my mom back and my dad alive
—wanting …

Those needs gave over to something else, and I felt an aching, hot desire infiltrate and shout a command. He looked like he could satisfy—oh yeah. He looked like he could keep me busy and mindless, and that was what I really needed.

His hands released mine and moved to my hips. We swayed and rocked together in an ageless movement, spurred on by the song. He drew me closer, and I made no objection. I looked up at him—into those sexy gold eyes …

All at once, he drew himself up to his full height. He stepped back and away from me as though I were a scorpion with my stinger on the rise. The music was off without his touching the stereo, and he still looked raw and feral, but no longer with desire.

His entire body had stiffened. His eyes held surprise and something else, something I could not name. However, there was no denying that he looked angry, and all at once he was barking out at me, “Where the hell have you been, and who were you with in the short while I was gone, unscrupulous Daoine?”

Well, that snapped me out of my mood. Good thing too, as dancing slow and sexy with his Royal Self was not what I should have been doing right then. “Unscrupulous? Where do you get off calling me that?” I snapped right back at him. We were in each other’s face. Well, actually I was in his chest looking up at his face.

“You made me a promise,” he said grievously.

“Which I kept, you big royal ass!”

He eyed me and took a whiff of me. “You were with a stranger—a male human.”

I realized he was sniffing me—getting a scent off me. This totally outraged my sense of self. I responded like dam that had just burst. “I NEVER LEFT OUR WARDED LAND!”

“Did you not? There is the scent of rain and expensive cologne … a man’s cologne …”

“Shows you how much you know,” I said and started to walk off. Earlier, I had fully intended to tell him about my meeting with Aaron Dunbar. Now, I had decided he could just stew.

“Enfant
!” It was like the clap of thunder at my back, but I scarcely turned, giving him just the side of my face as I reached the door. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me up and then down and then back up again. I couldn’t help but notice that his gaze lingered on my breasts, and I felt my nipples perk up in response. Traitorous body! And how the hell did he get anyone’s scent off me after I had showered and perfumed myself? It really was incredible.

“Never mind,” he said quietly just before he shifted off.

* * *

Well, what the heck was that? I stomped out of the room and continued to stomp as I made my way towards the kitchen. I didn’t know where Sally was, but I raided the place and found some freshly baked cookies.

Yes—cookies! I downed them and turned to find Sally coming in from the pantry. She clucked her tongue at me. “Whist wit ye … whot are ye doing? Ye’ll be ruining the fine supper I set aside for you!”

Supper? What time was it? Another day had just vanished. “Supper?” I said thoughtfully and then ran to her and hugged her. “Don’t worry, Sal—I’ll eat it when I get back.”

“Back? Back from where?” She eyed me with a motherly frown.

“There is a new neighbor in town. He has asked me to go into town for a pint. I told him no, but now, I think I will.”

“Och then, that must be the new Dunbar,” she said thoughtfully with a nod of her head. The grapevine in small villages works faster than the phone lines. “I was wondering when he would get around to finding you.” She smiled broadly at me and twinkled. “I hear tell he is the very broth of a man.”

“Hmmm. As a matter of fact …” I gave her a saucy smile. “… he is.” And I left her with this as I raced out of the room and went upstairs to phone him. I was hoping he had maintained his uncle’s phone number. A moment later, when he answered the phone, I smiled to myself, and then suddenly I almost changed my mind. Almost—however, I broke my own rule and said, “Hi there, Aaron Dunbar …”

“Radzia MacDaun,” he responded, sounding curious.

“My plans have changed, and if you still want to go to our little village pub, I will be by to pick you up in thirty minutes …”

“Radzia … there is nothing I could possibly want more.”

I laughed. “Yeah, right … see ya in a bit, and my friends call me Z.”

I took another shower—a rushed one—brushed my black hair till it glittered back at me in the mirror, and pinched my cheeks. Threw on a soft tan sweater that didn’t quite reach my low-hung jeans. The sweater had little knit ruffles but was sleeveless, and my tattoo was clearly visible round the one bicep. Slipped into a pair of tan Jimmy Choos heels to die for. Oh yes, I looked like I felt …

Was I putting on the Ritz for Aaron Dunbar? I don’t think so. I think I was ‘g
lamming
’ up because I was furious with Danté, furious with life, furious with myself because I had finally realized I wasn’t ready to face Gaiscioch and I wanted to so badly it cut.

However, youth forges ahead whether you want it to or not, and mine was forging, making me go for it … get out, have a laugh … and a flirt with the handsome Aaron.

As I turned the key in my mom’s silver Jaguar and backed out of the garage my father had added to the castle grounds twenty years ago, I almost stopped myself—
almost.

* * *

I watched her leave from the hell I was presently living in.

I knew I shouldn’t care what she did, or with whom. My job was to protect her from the Unseelie and Gaiscioch.

My queen believed she was a part of the prophecy, if not the most important component. I thought she was but a child lost. My queen thought she might be killed in the end, but not before she finished Gaiscioch. I thought if I didn’t keep her safe, she would die at his hands …

I didn’t think I could be so affected by such a notion, but I was. It took hold of me and drove me mad. I would not allow her to be harmed. She was so young …

I watched her click along in her fashionable heels, but they could not improve on the perfection of her lovely legs.

She was, I knew, dressed to impress, and I could not deny that her beauty was a strain on all my deep-seated resolves to keep her at a distance.

As eldest son of the House of Lugh, I had watched over my young brothers since we lost our parents in the last, most horrendous battle that took place on Irish soil. I was not given to fancy. I was practical and serious and very able to resist feminine wiles, and her wiles in particular were annoying in the extreme!

She was infuriating, irritating, and obnoxiously independent, and yet, she lit up a room with her gusto, her obvious bravery, her loyalty, and her audacious, if volatile, determination.

She was no more than the
enfant
I called her, and yet, her green eyes engaged one if one were to look too deep, and on occasion I’d found myself looking too deep. She was overflowing with the promise of passion beyond her present knowledge. Her body disintegrated my will to keep her at bay, her style bewitched until all I could do was grumble and run away from her …

I would not allow that to happen to me—I liked my independence, and females had a way of mucking that up. Look at me—running like an untried boy. I had lived over seventy thousand years, and I had thought myself ‘taken’ very nearly in love many times …

She had known boys, dealt with boys, and had no clue how to stand up to me effectually. How, then, could she stand against Gais, whose evil was ruthless?

She was an inexperienced child muddling through her cold need for justice … and I had to train her from the aloof position I was determined to maintain. Emotion makes fools of us, and I had never allowed myself to play the part.

And yet, when I was with her, I said and did all the wrong things. I was inadequate to the task of controlling my temper when I was with her. And now she was flaunting her will in my face. She thought I was unaware she was rushing off (in a flurry of temper) to meet a total stranger. She thought she was—what did humans say, ah yes, ‘
sticking it to me!’

I should return to Tir and let her play at being human … she has played the role too long. She must discover the Daoine within and become …

I should allow her an evening with the Dunbar fellow.
She was young and needed to laugh, but would she be safe off her warded ground?

Was I wrong to allow her to leave MacDaun tonight and go to a stranger whom I knew nothing about?