Fairytale (23 page)

“Just what do you think is in that box,
Brigit?”

Her lips parted, but only jerky, spasmodic
breaths escaped.

Shaking his head in frustration, Adam guided
her hands to the railing, and anchored them there. Then he spun on
his heel and headed out to the tool shed. He grabbed a pry bar, and
hurried back to the front of the house. God knew he didn’t dare
leave Brigit alone out there for more than a second or two. She was
where he’d left her, her eyes glued to that damned box as if she
expected a dragon to jump out of it and swallow her whole.

He bent to the wood, pried up a board. Then
another. And another. And another. He tossed each one aside,
letting them clatter to the ground and then moving on to the next.
And then he dropped the bar, looking at the box’s contents. When he
could breathe again he said, “Come here, Brigit, and take a look.
And then tell me what the hell this is all about.”

Her frightened eyes met his. She tried to
take a step forward, but that was all. “I...I can’t. J-j-just
t-tell me...”

He picked a brick from the top of the pile,
and held it up.

She frowned, blinking.

“Bricks. A bunch of them.”

Brigit moved then. She came off the step as
if shot from a cannon, and a second later she was on her knees
beside that crate and bricks were flying everywhere. She snatched
them up, clawed them into her hands and tossed them aside, one
after another, as if she were digging for something.

“Jesus, Brigit, enough!”

He grabbed her wrists when she went on
digging. Pulled her hands up, holding them prisoner in his. “Look
at this. What the hell is the matter with you?”

He held her hands up in front of her face, so
she could see what he did. Her nails were broken, fingertips
bleeding from the frantic search. But her eyes were still wide,
still jumping wildly from his to that box full of bricks and back
again.

“There’s nothing there,” he told her.
“Nothing. Just bricks. Nothing else.”

Her breaths quickened, roughened. Her eyes
squeezed tight and she clenched her jaw. “Thank God,” she whispered
through grated teeth. And then, eyes opening, calmer now, but
beginning to burn with something...anger, maybe. “Damn him, damn
him, damn him.”

And that was all. She melted into Adam’s
arms, tears flash-flooding, sobs spasming hard in her chest and
wrenching her small body. And he held her. He held her hard. And he
felt the sharp angles of her shoulder blades, and winced. He hadn’t
seen her consume enough to keep a bird alive since she’d moved in,
though he hadn’t given it much thought until now. And come to think
of it, judging by the circles under her eyes, she hadn’t slept
either. She was an emotional cauldron, and she was damned near
bubbling over. Terrified for sure. And yes, trying to pull
something on him. Which, for some reason had fallen to the very
bottom of his list of things to worry about.

Oh, he had questions all right. He was
brimming with them. But the questions would have to wait. Right now
the only thing he wanted was to make this haunted woman’s
nightmares go away.

Her sobs stopped, and it was several moments
before he realized she was unconscious in his arms.

***

She woke slowly...her senses coming to life
one at a time. Bit by bit. And the very first was the sense of
smell. Even before she was aware of it, she smelled the violets on
the air. Sweet honeysuckle. And...and sandalwood? Yes. And wax. She
could smell the wax. And the so-subtle scent of tiny tongues of
flame. Candles, her mind whispered. And floral incense.

Was she dreaming? Was she at Akasha? It felt
as if she was.

A touch, gentle and warm on her face,
stroking a slow path down over her cheek. Fingertips, tracing the
line of her jaw, so slowly. Stopping at her chin, trailing down the
arc of her neck, and making her tip her head back further in
response. They felt good, those warm fingertips. And when they
reversed their path, moving upward again to her cheek, she pressed
closer to their touch. Her face found the entire palm, and she
rubbed her cheek against it.

“Ah, Brigit...”

The voice was deep, and very soft. Barely
more than a whisper. A familiar one, though. A comforting one. The
hand caressed her face, fingers threading through her hair.

“You’re magic, you know. Everything you
do...”

And then lips—their kiss so light she was
almost convinced it had only been imaginary— gently brushing her
forehead.

Adam. She wanted to see him. She
needed...

Her eyes opened about the fourth time she
commanded them to do so. And things were blurry. She felt
lightheaded, fuzzy, drunk.

“Just like Sleeping Beauty,” he said.

His face swam into focus, and she saw that he
was smiling, slightly. Just slightly.

“I...” She licked her parched lips and tried
again. “I feel. . . funny.” She was only gradually beginning to
hear the soft strains of music. And beyond that, the gentle
tinkling sounds of a wind chime. They came as if from a great
distance.

“It’s the tranquilizer,” Adam told her, and
his hand was moving into her hair now, stroking up and back, the
way he’d stroke a cat. She liked it.

“Tranq...?” Her mouth refused to shape the
rest of the word.

“You passed out, Brigit. I called an
ambulance. When they arrived and brought you around, you started
shaking and hyperventilating again, so they gave you a shot.”

“Oh.” She didn’t remember any of that.

“You need to relax.”

“Mmm.” She was nothing if not relaxed. Her
eyes fell closed, but popped open again. She looked past him this
time, saw the foggy halos of candlelight...many of them. And the
fiery red tip of an incense stick. “What...is all this?”

Adam shrugged. “I thought it would make you
feel better.”

Her lips pulled up at the corners. “It does.
It reminds me...of Akasha.”

His hand came away from her hair. She lifted
her own, groping until she found his, closed around it, and drew it
slowly back to her. She kept hers over it, saw him smile and begin
stroking her hair again.

“Your shop is a special place,” he told her.
“When I walk in there, I get this instant sense of...I don’t
know...peace, I guess.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you could use a little peace right
now.”

Oh, he had that right.

“So I tried to duplicate the atmosphere for
you.”

She frowned a little. “You went to the
shop?”

“I borrowed your keys and sent one of my
students. Michael. Most trustworthy guy I know. I hope you don’t
mind.”

“I don’t.”

“I had him bring one of those tapes you
always have playing in there, and a set of those chimes. I asked
him to pick up some scented candles and floral incense, so I could
get the smells right. It was easier than bringing all the
plants.”

She closed her eyes, again hearing the soft
music. No wonder she’d felt so relaxed when she’d awakened. “Enya,”
she told him as she recognized the hauntingly beautiful voice, in a
song called “Fairytale.” “My favorite.”

“Good.”

“You’re a sweet man, Adam.”

“Not a chance, Brigit.”

“You did all this for me...”

“Oh, I did more. I undressed you. Or hadn’t
you noticed?”

She drew a short, sharp breath when he said
it coming a little more fully awake than she’d been. She lifted the
blankets that covered her and peered underneath. She was naked,
except for the white panties she still wore. Lowering the covers,
she met his eyes.

“I told myself it was just to make you
comfortable,” he said slowly, his eyes pinning hers, holding them
prisoner in their depths. “But it was a lie. Before I covered you
up, I looked at you, Brigit. I looked at your breasts. I touched
them.”

Her breath quickened, and she felt her
nipples harden in response to his words, and the images those words
evoked.

“Thought you ought to know,” he went on,
still staring into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She sat up in the bed, very slowly, because
she was dizzy, and moving made it worse. The bed seemed to spin in
uneven circles. Adam’s hands came to her shoulders, as if he’d push
her back down to the pillows.

“Don’t, Brigit,” he told her. “If you want to
be away from me, I’ll leave. You have to stay here. You need to
rest.”

“I don’t want to rest.” She let him press her
down, though, too weak to fight him. “I want...to know...” His eyes
narrowed, searching her face.

“To know what?”

“How,” she whispered. “How you touched
me.”

Adam stood beside the bed, staring down at
her, his face unreadable. “How?”

Lifting her trembling hands, Brigit caught
the blankets at her shoulders, and slowly pushed them down, all the
way to her hips, just as far as she could reach. “Show me.”

Adam slammed his eyes closed. “Jesus Christ
Brigit...”

“I want you to...”

“You’re drugged! You don’t know what the hell
you want.”

He would have turned away. But her hand shot
out to capture his wrist. She held him as tight as she could, and
she drew his hand downward. He didn’t resist. He let her bring it
lower let her settle his palm on her breast. Her nipple rose,
pressing against his flesh, and she knew he had to feel it. She saw
him clenching his teeth his jaw flinching, and she heard the air
rush out of his lungs.

She released his hand. When he drew it away
she sat up again, battling the dizziness and winning. “You don’t
want me, then. Is that it Adam?”

He stood there, right beside the bed, looking
down at her with fire in his wizard’s eyes, and candlelight
gleaming from his golden hair so that he resembled a pagan god. His
hands closed around one of hers, and he drew it closer until her
palm pressed right to the zipper of his jeans. She felt the iron
bulge beyond the denim.

Does it feel to you as if I don’t want
you?”

“Then why—”

“I don’t want to want you, dammit. I don’t
want to feel a goddamn thing for you!”

She pressed her hand harder to that
denim-encased swell. She drew back, lifting her chin, the wanton
inside having escaped and taken charge. “You don’t have a choice in
the matter.”

“Witch,” he breathed. But he didn’t turn
away. Her fingers fumbled with the jeans, with the button and then
the zipper, and then he was free. He was in her hands.

She looked at him, huge and hard and dark,
and so very close to her. She kissed him there, and then ran her
tongue from the base to the tip, an incredibly long journey. He
shuddered and groaned as if in agony, and she took him into her
mouth, working him until he gripped handfuls of her hair and pulled
her away.

“Fine,” he growled, tearing the covers from
the bed with one hand. “You want it so bad, you’ve got it lady.
You’ve got it.”

He kicked free of his jeans, and climbed into
the bed with her, his flesh hot, burning. His mouth demanding...no,
enslaving hers when he took it. One hand tore at her panties,
ripping them apart rather than sliding them off her. And then that
hand cupped her, parted her, invaded her with its calloused
fingers. He pinched and he entered and he took. And then he used
both hands to press her thighs open, and he settled himself on top
of her. His hardness pressed into her, nudged farther, entered
her.

Brigit closed her eyes, clutched his
shoulders, and gave a soft cry when he slid himself into her body
in one sudden thrust.

And that cry galvanized him He froze, right
where he was, his eyes popping open, his face stricken. “Jesus,
what am I doing?”

“Adam,” she whispered, searching his dark
blue eyes, knowing he’d been lost for a few moments. But he was
back now. And this was what she wanted. Him. Not his body, but
him.

She threaded her fingers into his hair, and
drew his head downward. But he resisted.

“Brigit...” he whispered, searching her face.
“I’m the first for you...”

“Yes,” she told him. “I’ve waited a long time
to find you, Adam Reid.” And she kissed him. One second. Two.
Three, and more. And then he kissed her back. His lips moved,
nuzzled, tasted, and his body rocked slowly with hers. His arms
cradled her tightly and closely, and he made slow, exquisite love
to her. He kissed a hot path down her jaw, over her neck, and
sucked the skin between his teeth, nibbling, tasting.

“My God, Brigit,” he whispered as their hips
met again and again. Not roughly, the way he’d begun. But with such
exquisite tenderness it brought tears to her eyes.

“You taste so sweet...so sweet...so
good...”

He was kissing her again, then. Her neck, her
shoulders, her chest, her arms. Her breasts. He couldn’t seem to
get enough of kissing her skin. And as he kissed he moved, and she
moved with him, bringing him deeper and deeper inside her. Every
thrust sent her spiraling higher, her insides seeming to twist
tighter, in preparation for the final release.

When it came, it blinded her with its
intensity. She screamed aloud, clinging, clawing him, her entire
body convulsing and her mind vanishing in the chaos of sensation.
And Adam moved faster, plunged deeper, arched his back and growled
her name out loud, before he slowly relaxed and sank on top of
her.

He gathered her into his arms, and she held
on tight, kissing his face.

He rolled her onto her back, and laid beside
her, propping himself on one elbow. His eyes took their time,
roaming up and down her utterly naked body, and there was a look of
confusion and wonder about him.

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done
that. Dammit, Brigit, I shouldn’t...but damn you, you made it
impossible. Jesus, where do you get this power over me? This
freaking magi...” He stopped speaking, and she saw his gaze skid to
a halt, focused on her abdomen. His eyes widened, and he shook his
head, blinked, and stared some more. “What the hell is that?”