A Faerie Fated Forever (12 page)

“What the hell did he just say to her?” Geoff snarled.

Because Boz tried not to lie directly to friends, he replied, “Gaelic can be so difficult to interpret.” He didn’t tell the man who was already seething that the comment meant
My beautiful brown-haired maiden
because Badgerton’s response to the possessive phrase would have been impossible to restrain.

The duke tiptoed through a battlefield already, and it was still early. The two hadn’t even danced yet.

Heather knew what the words meant, but took them as one of the compliments that the charmer tossed out casually and the throngs of women panting after him were foolish enough to take to heart. She had been a fool once and deliberately summoned the image of Nial naked and writhing in passion with the widow to bolster her still-foolish heart, which beat faster at his words.

As the warmth his words inspired changed to skepticism and rejection, Nial watched the play of emotions in her eyes and was briefly disheartened. How would he tear down that wall? With the lightning-quick thought processes that allowed him to lead his clan so successfully, he evaluated the cards he held and the challenge he faced. Her heart rejected him but her body craved him. She was –had better be— unawakened, but she had wanted him for years. Her crush was legendary on Skye, and he struggled with unaccustomed guilt recalling that being teased about it had always brought annoyance and sharp words to his tongue. Passion wasn’t all he wanted from her, but a man fought with the weapons at hand. She'd selected those he was best with and she'd chosen his favorite game. It was one he would never play with another woman.

When the orchestra struck up a waltz, he turned to her, pleased that the timing prevented any attempt she might make to guard against her reaction to his touch. He took her hand as he said, "My Lady, I believe this is my dance.”

“You don’t have to dance with him, Heather. To hell with Almack’s and its rules,” Geoff snarled.

Nial kept her hand within his and hidden within that grasp, his thumb traced small arcs on her palm that caused her to shiver in response to the light touch. “Have you become so fancy here in London that you haven’t time to spend with a lad from Skye?”

His touch interfered with her ability to think or to summon her defenses. “Of course not, Nial. Shall we?”

They took the floor, and Nial summoned every ounce of discipline to force himself to place his hands in the proper waltz position. That wasn’t where they wanted to go, and it wasn’t where they belonged. Still, he held her with the distance propriety demanded. However, he spoke in a deliberately muted tone.

“What? I’m sorry, Nial, I couldn’t hear you over the music,” Heather said, naively unaware of his ploy.

He repeated his words, still softly and she shook her head, indicating that she had missed his statement again. Then, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, she said, “This is silly” and put both arms around his neck, allowing him to draw her close, and he did so quickly. He drew her close to his heart, where he could feel every inch of the body that haunted his dreams.

“I’m sure my comment wasn’t all that fascinating, sweet, and nothing you don’t get told a hundred times a day.” He glanced down at her, at the exquisite body he would take and hold as closely as her heart. He rubbed a finger against her cheek but it wasn't enough. He cupped it in his palm as he said, “Sweet Scotland, Heather you are beautiful.”

She rubbed her cheek into his hand as her fingers played through his hair. He felt himself warming and twitching as his staff stretched at record pace and much against his will. He had been making every effort not to react physically while he held her so close for fear she might be frightened away. He willed his body to calm down, and lowered his lids to hide the wild light in his eyes. The angle gave him a prime view of the full curve of her lips and the fuller curve of the breasts nearly overflowing her gown. His tarse failed to heed his instructions to cease and desist.

A moment later, Heather’s finger trailed over his pursed lips. “Nial? Are you all right?”

His navy eyes snapped open and smoldered at her, and he gave his tongue strict instructions that it would not help his body cool down if he licked her finger. His tongue actually obeyed him. Of course, he should have said a word or two to his mouth, because it promptly applied suction to the stroking digit. That touch sent ripples of heat that slowly and inexorably made their way to his rigid digit. She moaned and he vehemently wished that the rigid digit in question occupied his hand, instead of his tightly fitted trousers.

He bit her finger lightly, as she looked at him with pain and questions and desire. “Sweet, so sweet,” he murmured, as his rebelling tongue began to lick the stroking index finger, and his errant brain began to imagine licking a smaller, hidden nub. He would nibble on that one too and she would writhe helplessly as he tasted her passion. His manhood pulsed with need. He sucked in his breath and forgot to let it out as she took her free hand and rubbed his earlobe.

Heather felt hot and achy. She itched in the oddest places. Nial had fire in his eyes and he was looking at her, at last, at long last. Her nipples pebbled against the silk of her gown as she felt the heat of his mouth against her finger. When he sucked it lightly, she started in surprise before she twisted slightly in his arms, feeling that suction in her breasts and lower, in the hidden place between her thighs.

He resisted the lure of her pebbled nipples for as long as his will power would allow. He must have held out for at least three breaths before one hand left her waist and his fingers lightly touched the underside of her breast. He heard the raspy sound of her breathing and knew she was his. His fingers moved higher to stroke the nipple through the thin silk.

For years, he'd abhorred that women considered an invitation to dance to be the equivalent of the hunt master crying “Open season on Maclee’s gear.” For the first time he found himself in the position of those women. He cupped her buttocks with his free hand and stopped dancing entirely as he rubbed her against his erection.

The touch she had dreamed of for so many lonely years overwhelmed her ability to resist. It overcame her betrayal and rage as it intensified the tug of her nipples and caused a spurt of moisture between her legs. When he stopped dancing altogether and pulled her bottom to cup the aroused male member she had only heard whispers about before, her first thought – deny it though she would to her dying breath – was “finally.”

Fortunately, her attempts to visualize his bare sex brought back vivid recall of the time she had seen his bare bottom. The member she tried to imagine had been embedded in the witch. She stiffened her arms to push him away. Then she slapped him across the face and ran off the dance floor.

Actively engaged in trying to distract Geoff, Boz succeeded to a degree only because he was talking about the man’s intentions toward Heather. Boz winced when he saw Nial’s open passion for the girl. His mouth fell open when his cousin stopped dancing and pulled Heather to cup his obvious hard-on. He had to use both hands to hold Geoff back until Heather delivered the well-deserved, but assuredly belated slap and ran off the dance floor.

Like a hound called to heel, Geoff ran after Heather.

Boz walked over as his kinsman stood at the edge of the dance floor with hot eyes that traced Heather’s path.

“We better get out of here before the fit of your pants gets you arrested on public indecency charges. Bloody hell, what's wrong with you?”

“I couldn’t control myself,” Nial said, smiling in self-castigation. “I feared that would be a problem. But no, I will not go until I know she is all right.”

******

Heather was many things at that moment, but all right wasn't one of them. She stood in the center of the powder room grinning, in tears, and steaming mad. Viv followed after she halted Geoff who actually tried to enter.

"Personally, I think we should climb out the window. The cleaning crew would have to run Geoff out, hours after the hall empties and every other soul lies long abed." She walked to her cousin and tucked up a stray lock of hair, as she whispered, "Come on lass. You're made of sterner stuff than this. I gather that gorgeous specimen of masculinity is Nial?”

“’Tis said demons come in the fairest guises, isn’t it? Well 'tis certainly true of that one,” she said, her wrathful words unmatched by her wistful expression.

“I thought you said that he had no interest in you? He certainly appeared, well, interested.”

“What I can’t believe is that I fell for it - for a bit, mind you. On the night that part of my life ended he conveyed his opinion of me, his scorn at the idea of a future together so plainly that even I could understand.” Incongruously, Heather thought about how much she'd have given to change places with the black-haired bitch, evil or not.

“From the looks of him tonight, he may have changed his mind.”

“Humph. Likely he’s changed his mind about several women since the black widow. The old caution about a leopard and his spots comes to mind,” said Heather. She still couldn't stop the dreamer inside from thinking, what if he wants me, what if he….no, don’t delude yourself, lass. She told the dreamer firmly that Nial didn’t know the meaning of the word love.

"Just be careful. Leopards are sly creatures that appear tame just before they bite," Viv said with a grin. When her cousin grinned in return, she said, "I'm just not sure whether you should be careful to avoid the bite or encourage it."

"Me either, " Heather replied, sounding more like herself.

They decided to re-enter the fray, and sure enough, Geoff waited patiently.

As they got to the end of the hall, Nial tried to grab her arm and Geoff whirled on him.

“Back off, you backwoods lothario. Perhaps in the bloody Highlands it is acceptable to accost women on the dance floor, but we behave with a bit more class in town.” Badgerton said, accompanying the words with an aristocratic sneer.

Nial backed off, and didn’t try to pursue her, not because of Badgerton’s words, but because the hurt expression in her eyes said he should tread carefully. His nature wouldn’t let him take the insult without response. He stepped forward and gave the man a light shove, causing him to stumble into a passing waiter carrying a full tray of partially empty glasses. The loud crash, the assorted beverage remains staining Badgerton’s suit, and the raised brows of society matrons focused the room’s full attention on the formerly sneering noble.

“At least in the bloody Highlands, we do it with grace, Badgerton,” Nial replied and turned to leave, but not before Heather raised her glass to him. Dusting off his wet clothing and trying to soothe the ruffled feathers of the waiter, Badgerton caught the salute as well and grimaced.

It appeared that the new Heather still considered herself a proud Highland lass.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Early the next afternoon, Nial and Boz set out for a ride in the park. ‘Twasn’t what Nial considered a ride at all. The whole endeavor felt more like a stroll atop a horse that served more as fashion accessory than steed. The
ton
rode here to see and be seen by the others in the small, manicured to within an inch of its life snippet of greenery that passed for nature in the crowded environs of London. Nial viewed the fact that this was “socially, an important contact spot” as proof that the English lacked both common sense and enough to do.

Yet he went along with the idiotic endeavor for the simple reason that his lady would be there. His cousin’s network of spies said that Lady Heather would be at the park this afternoon with an escort. It was the end of that phrase that had Nial gritting his jaw as he said a fervent prayer that his hot temper would stay within his control.

He asked his cousin about it again, and as it was the fifth time he asked the same question, it made Sedgewick grit his teeth.

“Who the hell will she be with? Think man, you must have a clue. Why are you so convinced 'twill not be Badgerton?” He couldn’t stop the query, even though he had asked the same question before and knew it would exasperate the other man.

Boz had already told his cousin four times that the entirety of his information was that Heather had accepted an invitation to go to the park that day, and his informant thought that the invitation had come from “someone new.” Actually, his informant, a maid in his household related to a maid in the Standings household, also stated that the ranks of Heather’s ardent admirers grew by the day. Given the tenuous grasp Nial had on his control when he was only aware of Geoff’s attentions, he shuddered to think what the man would do when he learned the extent of his competition.

Instead of answering the query again, this time he said, “I told you last night and say again that your display at Almack’s proves you require a trip to Madame Odettes. You need to work out some of that lust with an available female before you end up taking the girl right on the dance floor. My lofty ducal status,” he wiggled his eyebrows nobly, “lets my family get away with a great deal, but there are limits to what the
ton
will tolerate even from me.”

They neared the park as Boz tossed that one out, and Nial craned his neck to look at every passerby. “I don’t want any other lass. I will not be unfaithful to Heather again.” Nial’s firm pronouncement had not once wavered since his arrival in town. “Besides, if I wanted a lass last night I could have taken the bloody wench ensconced in my bed when I returned to your place.”

“Your squire had to toss another one from your bed in my house?” Boz asked with amusement tinged with a bit of concern. Apparently, some of his staff continued to supplement their income by bribery even after being threatened with dismissal without a reference. This he would have to investigate.

“Indeed. Based upon the pole in my trousers this one must have thought she had some chance of success. Created quite a ruckus she did. Your mother led her away and comforted her.” The half-hearted comments showed that the rather typical incident warranted little interest.

“I see her,” Nial gestured towards where Heather sat on a bench beside a tall brown-haired bloke.

“Where?”

“There,” Maclee pointed, “beside the bastard sliding far too close. Damn. If he moves his paw another inch towards her leg he’ll have to catch it with his other one.” His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, showing that the threat was not an idle one.

Sedgewick never suspected the threat to be idle. A fierce breed, the Scots rarely made threats they didn't mean. “That’s Roderick Nimsley, heir to the Earl of Blassingame. Get down, you ass, and we’ll walk over to chat with the ladies under yon tree. And for God’s sake stop acting like a hound pointing out its prey.”

The other man gave a long-suffering sigh and followed his cousin towards three females under the branches of a shade tree. They were arranged for effect, and no doubt, he was about to endure a lengthy few minutes hearing them twitter about nonsense.

As the laird and the duke who topped every matron’s most wanted son-in-law list approached, the group bubbled with excitement. A mass of hair smoothing, skirt straightening and neckline lowering broke out as though the command had been given. Boz introduced the ladies and Nial promptly forgot every name as he glanced over to find Heather staring pointedly at the group. Her eyes narrowed, making him want to do a handstand.

His distraction gave the black-haired lass next to him an opportunity to place her hand under the back of his waistcoat. He didn’t even notice until he felt a female hand squeezing his buttocks, and heard a husky whisper aimed at the general direction of his ear offering to “meet him later.” He stepped back two steps to put himself and his bodily appendages out of reach. Unfortunately, the group followed, and he had to swallow another long-suffering sigh as he tried to look fascinated by the blonde’s comments about how “she was convinced there would be a shower any minute now.” Since it was bloody England in spring, it hardly took an immense intellect to ferret out the possibility of an afternoon shower.

******

Heather tried her hardest to pay attention to Rod and to ignore the too-obvious attempts of the nearby women to gain Nial’s attention. She did not succeed well and wondered for the fifty-seventh time since last night, why she could not ignore the horny beast and get on with her life. Rod noticed that her attention was not on him, and he took her hand and brought it to his lips, murmuring, “Your beauty puts the flowers to shame.” She jerked her glance back to her escort as she felt his tongue on her fingers. Nial’s tongue gave her melting shivers, but this man’s simply made her want to wipe her hand on her skirt.

Unconsciously, she did just that a minute later but did not know that the sensual smile playing about the corners of Nial’s mouth was due to that reaction. She assumed he saw something in the offerings before him that aroused a male response, and she suddenly could not take this a moment longer. She jumped up to head for her horse without a fare thee well to Rod. As Maclee saw her leave, he also walked away from the gaggle without a word.

Heather half-turned to look back and saw the black-haired lass catch Nial's hand and tug it towards her breast. It so unnerved Heather that she snapped the reins of her horse. Unused to such rough treatment, the steed bolted and headed straight for the road, where two of the young bloods of the ton staged an impromptu race to show off their new rigs.

Nial saw her frenzied tug on the reins, saw her lose control of her mount. The young idiots would trample Heather. He mounted his fleet stallion at a run. Boz raced after him, as did Nimsley, belatedly. The sound of another horse heralded Badgerton joining the rescue effort. They arrived at the edge of the road, and the three other men reined their animals to stop. To continue would be suicidal. Heather’s horse reared in the center of the road and the oncoming carriages hurtled too fast to stop. Nial didn't stop. He didn’t even pause to consider the consequences. He angled his mount and jerked off his saddle, giving a Gaelic command that the trained steed would respond to with a burst of speed.

Heather tugged at the reins, struggling to control her mount. The carriages driven by the foolish young fops headed straight at her at top speed. She saw her would-be saviors stop. As death approached her life didn't flash before her, as warrior's tales said it would. She felt only a gaping loss that she would die without ever culminating her passion for Nial. The pain and sorry she felt at that was unfathomable.

A movement angled towards her from the right. Nial rode bareback, crouched in a warrior’s posture. He leaned down to grasp her to his horse, but his arrival in the road panicked her horse further. It threw her and bounded to safety. The carriages nearly upon them, Nial dismounted and his horse jumped for the side of the road. He scooped Heather into his arms. As he lifted her over his head, he said softly, “My world would have no meaning without you in it, Heather.” Then he yelled to his cousin, “Catch” and tossed her.

Boz caught her, only barely managing to remain on his feet. With breaths held, the crowd watched wide-eyed as the instant Heather left the Scot's arms, the conveyances were upon Nial.

Boz and Heather identified the figure of light as a faerie knight. The faerie’s aid allowed the carriages to merely graze Nial as they thundered past on a road barely wide enough for the two conveyances. Sedgewick still held the girl but she ignored Geoff and Rod’s frantic inquiries, twisted to free herself, and launched towards Nial who lay in the road motionless.

******

Nial took deep breaths, astonished to be alive. He felt fire shooting down his system and knew Heather was there before he opened his eyes. Not only had he somehow survived his suicidal rescue, but his fate leaned over him, running her hands down the length of his body to test his limbs. "You might have hidden injuries within, " Heather mumbled as she placed a hand on his belly. "I've seen men die without a scratch on them."

He felt blood trickling from his arm, his back and the underside of one leg. He had several cuts, but could have given sworn testimony that otherwise he was perfectly fine. He knew that because Heather’s tender touch awoke the one-eyed demon in his trousers.

“Nial, are you all right? Speak to me!” She demanded as she leaned to him, cupping his cheeks. He rubbed against her hands, as he gazed at her distraught face. Her locks had escaped their confinement atop her head, her dress was stained and torn, and her breath came in pants as her breasts strained against her bodice.

Nial was a terrible patient, especially because women attempted to coddle him and force him to rest whenever he so much as sneezed. He was, of course, aware that their motives in getting him to bed were not concern for his health. He tended to react by screaming at the would-be nurse, “I’m a warrior not a simpering fop. I’ll be fine if you will leave me alone.”

Heather’s coddling, for that was what she was doing, nourished his soul. The warrior who once continued a battle against a rival clan with two lead balls and a sword wound, murmured, “I feel a bit weak but I have every confidence that your care will put me on the mend.”

Badgerton joined the others to flank the pair and made the mistake of reaching down to try to tug Heather away. “You bloody bastard. How dare you imply that Lady Heather would lower herself to play physician for you.”

Instead of surrendering to his impulse to leap to his all too healthy feet and beat the immortal crap out of the
Sassannach
arse, the laird closed his eyes, and emitted a loud groan.

Heather tried to turn to him at that sound, but Geoff still yanked at her arm. She snatched it away. “You oafish idiot. Unhand me. Of course I’ll tend Nial myself. After all, left to your heroic efforts I’d be lying dead in the road at this moment. The Shining Folk have no interest in saving me.”

Nial managed to bravely struggle to his feet – with her help, of course. “The faeries? I didn't see them. Heather, are you sure that the faeries saved me?”

She wrapped her arm about his waist to guide him to the carriage Boz had appropriated from one of the young fools. Nial wrapped his arm around her waist, allegedly for support, and awaited her reply.

“Aye ‘twas the faeries. Rather, a single faerie knight well girded for battle.”

Most of the onlookers laughed uproariously. Rod said, “The lass I can excuse for we all know women are fanciful creatures. But can you imagine a grown man who actually believes in faeries?”

Sedgewick turned to his cousin. “It is likely, that until you wed and sire an heir the Shining Folk will guard you carefully. They would doubtless sorely miss all the mischief they make with your family if none of your direct line survived.”

The other two men then bit their tongues to avoid offending the powerful duke who apparently believed in faerie tales himself.

Boz got in the carriage first and willingly joined his friend’s little drama by placing a needless hand to his arm to assist his ascent, whispering, “Perhaps you should give up this hunt for your fate and tread the boards. There must be a hidden talent for acting in your family.”

The Scot winked and gave a low moan, the credibility of which arose from the fact that Heather placed attentive hands on his bum to be sure he entered the carriage safely. Boz reached to help Heather, but she jumped into the carriage and seated herself beside the laird. She disregarded the blood from the scratch on his arm to gather his head to her bosom.

Nial’s torn shirt revealed a bloody gash on his chest. She turned her attention there, tearing a portion of her skirt and wetting it with her saliva before patting his chest. The gash was near his nipple, and he flushed when his observant cousin “tsked” as it pebbled.

Disturbed by the conquering onslaught of desire and his consequently growing arousal, especially with his friend serving as eyewitness, Nial fixed genuinely tormented eyes on Heather. “I am a little tired. Perhaps you can await our arrival at Sedgewick house before continuing your examination.”

“Of course,” Heather murmured, moving her hand away from his chest and letting it fall to his lap. Nial’s sex awoke when she leaned over him on the road. It showed greater interest when she placed his head between her breasts. When Heather caressed his nipple with the wet cloth, his tarse grew rigidly erect. When her hand brushed his lap, and the now-throbbing member that hadn’t been interested in being attended since she walked away, he groaned and thrust against the touch he had dreamed of for too long to have a prayer of resisting.