Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 6

  He stared into her eyes. “Thou wilt stay here. With me.”

  She barely had the strength to speak. Her voice was a tiny whisper. “Aye, my lord. What magic doth thou possess?”

  “’Tis not magic,” Remy said. “’Tis love.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, cradling him close. She would never let him go.

  He began to move, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy with a wondrous rhythm. As the pleasure crested within her again, Aislynn fell into the magic of love, willingly, blissfully and with her whole heart.

  * * * *

  The birds woke her, cheery and optimistic, and Arleigh Donovan pulled the pillow over her head to shut them out. Usually the sunrise songs of the robins and swallows renewed her in the morning. But this morning, heartsickness rolled through her.

  The sweet sound that usually hung in the air—the gentle breathing of the girls as they slept—was missing. There would be no soft stirrings of the quilt, no rustling of bedclothes. Hannah would not reach out and pull aside the curtain of the window to peek at the day before she rose. Fiana would not grumble when her youngest sister climbed over her to be the first one up, and Corliss would not laugh at the complaint.

  Arleigh sat up and pulled the hair from her face, looked around the empty room, and burst into tears. Even the soft glow of the faeries in the timbers could not console her. She had failed Stephen. She had not been able to keep the Caindale girls from Cameron Flynn. She would not be able to hold Trinity Island.

  How could she have been so wrong about everything? She would have gone with Flynn. She had been prepared for all of it, but not for this. Alone, empty, unloved. He had sent men to her cottage in the dead of night to kidnap the sisters and carry them away, kicking and screaming. Their cries had been heartbreaking, but the men had no mercy. They carted her lasses to the waiting boat and dumped them into the bottom like cargo. She hadn’t even been allowed to pack them a bag.

  She pled with Master Allen, who had been a friend of Stephen’s, but he remained rigid, unyielding. He refused to look at her tearstained face and shook off the hand clutching his arm. When the boat pulled away from the dock, her heart broke into ten thousand pieces, and each one of those pieces dropped into the dark water of the James as tears.

  How could she fight a man—a creature—like Cameron Flynn?

  Anger boiled up inside of her because he was a constant reminder of her past, a warning that, no matter what she did or where she went, she bore a curse—to remember, to atone, to pay the price for selfishness. She had already spent twenty-two years in this ludicrous mortal shape, trapped in a body that remembered freedom but clung to the earth because there was no other choice. Stripped of family, of home, she’d been denied love again and again, and pushed to the boundaries of the known world as punishment for past sins. Now Cameron Flynn’s presence guaranteed her life in this new world would be as wretched as every other miserable hour she had spent upon this earth in her human form. His presence in this new place indicated he had no intention of allowing her any chance of happiness.

  She’d had no illusions about what kind of life she might be forced to lead on this side of the sea. She hoped only to retain a small amount of dignity and self-worth, but she swore she would make it through the five years no matter what fate decreed. If her new life involved what she feared most and she left a trail of dead men in her wake, so be it. They would get what they deserved.

  When the ship had anchored, her worst fears were confirmed. The same lascivious glances that had followed her across an ocean had found harbor on land. The men who lined the docks to inspect the cargo and make their choices were as eager asthe sailors to possess her. Stares raked across her and burned her skin.Their hands spun her around and poked and prodded her flesh, stealing liberties when the broker was occupied and her body trembled.

  She struggled to accept her strange, new environment. One man frightened her more than those who wore their greed so comfortably. This one managed to keep his need hidden from his face, but his stare roamed over her dirty skin and matted hair, licking at her skin. She had wished with all her heart that she looked more like the other women, hopeless and destitute, ugly and worn, but wishing had never helped Arleigh Donovan. She knew, even disheveled and filthy, her beauty could not be veiled. Her luminous skin shone through the dirt. Her deep red hair tumbled about her shoulders and down her back in strands that begged to be touched. Her body, despite the unhealthy conditions and poor nutrition on the ship, was still lush, ripe, achingly beautiful.

  She hated herself and willed her body invisible, but of course, that was impossible. She was human now. Or at least as human as she ever could be.

  That spring day, the stranger had stared at her, and she had avoided his gaze because something both familiar and disquieting stirred around him, something that shot fear through her nerves. Finally she could stand it no longer, and through strands of dirty hair, she found the courage to really look at him.

  He smiled at her, flashing white teeth like a hungry predator, not a smile of friendship but one of chilling certainty. Recognition pierced through her, and she gasped. She nearly fainted on the dock and had to clutch at the older woman standing next to her. She pushed her lips against the woman’s ear.

  “Do you see that man?”

  Nell Potter had furiously tried to shake her off and growled at her, “Get away from me, Donovan. No man will look at me if you’re standin’ so close.”

  “Do you see him? Is he real or an apparition?”

  “I told you off!” Nell grumbled. She gave Arleigh a shove.

  When Arleigh gripped Nell’s face and twisted her head around, the woman squinted her eyes toward the handsome figure. She whistled. “Christ Almighty, but he’s a fine one.”

  “So you see him? He’s real? Not a specter?”

  “Should be more specters like that one,” Nell said. “I’d be willin’ to go to the afterlife now and not cling so to this miserable existence. I’d sell my soul to belong to that one. Is he lookin’ at us? Tell me. You know my eyesight’s not the best.”

  “Aye,” Arleigh said miserably. “He’s looking at us.”

  Nell fluffed her scraggly locks of mousy brown hair and cupped her breasts, releasing more of her ample cleavage. Nell continued to talk, something about what she would do to the dark stranger if she could get her hands on him, but her words became lost in the din surrounding them. It was enough to know the man on the dock was real. She had the worst possible luck.

  It couldn’t be Cameron Flynn.

  Arleigh lowered her head and studied him through a veil of hair. Nell had been right. He was a fine one. Long strands of ebony hair curled against his neck and down his shoulders. The dark stubble of a beard shadowed his face, hardening the handsome features and giving him a dangerous, gritty countenance. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in elegant clothes that emphasized the tight, muscled grooves of his body and, though he looked to be a nobleman, perhaps one of the King’s cavaliers, his body seemed more suited to killing an enemy in hand-to-hand combat. He looked strong, violent, and unpredictable.

  No, it can’t be him. You’re tired, anxious, imagining things. It can’t be Flynn because…

  Her breath caught for a moment. Her resolve wavered. The doubt flickered through her again then her hopes disintegrated as his eyes locked on hers.

  I am doomed. An ocean away, and I can’t escape what I am. Bloody hell. What forces are controlling my life? Who is so bloody angry with me that I can’t get one shred of luck?

  The man’s eyes were sapphire blue with glints of silver, a melding of brittle metallic with the luminous beauty of a rare jewel. Cameron Flynn’s eyes. Beautiful, but that spark of malice, that hint of something that spoke of brutality and pain, lingered there still. His eyes had burned in her memory because she had once fought hard to win the soul that lay within.

  Nell had continued to leer at the stranger, but Arleigh averted her eyes, looking at him from beneath h
er lashes. She studied each inch of his body. She had to be wrong. It couldn’t be Cameron Flynn, because Flynn was centuries dead and buried in the green hills of Ireland.

  The man had finally approached them. Nell had hissed at Arleigh and knocked her away. Arleigh fell to the ground, a lifeless bundle of rags. The man who couldn’t possibly be Flynn continued forward. She cringed and yearned for the strength she had possessed in the past, anything to keep him at bay. He motioned toward Nell, and another man took her by the arm and led her away. Nell gave Arleigh a little wave over her shoulder, bidding her good riddance and better luck. For one moment, Arleigh thought she was safe, but a shadow crossed her body and a chill swept through her. A hard grip enveloped her arm and hauled her to her feet, her hair flying across her face. The man brushed it away with a lover’s touch and leaned very close. The heavenly scent of clean skin washed over her.

  “I’ve been lifetimes waiting for you,” he murmured.

  “Cameron?” she whispered.

  “Aye, lass, in the flesh. Isn’t this is a wondrous new world? A suitable place for our meeting, don’t you think? New beginnings for both of us. The stars have aligned, the gods are smiling, or whatever it takes. I have very little interest in the cosmic realm. I’m more interested in earthly delights. In you.”

  “How can a dead man live?” Arleigh gasped.

  “I have a better question,” Flynn whispered. “How is it possible a faery of immeasurable power becomes a dirty heap of rags, stinking of humanity?”

  His hands had moved around her back, and he yanked her toward him. His hard body pressed against her, and his fingers dug cruelly into her skin through the tattered dress. His mouth came down on hers in a brutal kiss that seemed endless. She struggled against him but could do nothing. His mouth plundered hers, forcing her to respond even as her mind sought any explanation for how Cameron Flynn could possibly be alive. He forced her mouth open, and his breath flowed into her. She moaned under his mouth and finally found the strength to push at his chest.

  Laughing, he loosened his grip but still held her against his body.

  “I’ve waited centuries for your kiss, lover,” he said.

  She wiped her trembling hand across her mouth. “Centuries weren’t long enough.”

  “Did you feel anything?” he asked.

  “My hatred of you.”

  Cameron Flynn pulled her closer. Once again he kissed her, a deep leisurely kiss that tugged at something within the frail body she inhabited. Her heart began to beat faster, and her arms rose and circled his neck against her will. His hands became lost in her hair. She melted against him and nestled into his body. She was powerless to stop it. When he pulled his face from her, impossibly, he winked at her. She took a step back, and her eyes widened.

  “You’re Ganconor! What have you done?” she demanded. “How is this possible?”

  “Power’s for the taking, lover.”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “But you were my lover once. You will be again.”

  “Ne’er will I be your lover,” she said.

  He caught her arm and yanked her toward him. “Stow your pride, lass. Do you think you have any control over what is about to happen? It’s obvious from your arrival on this particular ship, your ragtag appearance, and your rather,” he paused and sniffed at her, a look of displeasure on his face, “gamey aroma that you haven’t chosen to be here. You’re here as punishment. Still killing innocent men?”

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” Arleigh snapped. “It can’t be helped if men die and I am blamed for it.”

  “Poor, poor you,” he murmured. “You are cursed in this life, aren’t you, lassie?”

  Arleigh snatched her arm away. “Stay out of my life, Cameron. I don’t know what you’ve done. I don’t know how you stole a ganconor essence, but I want you to leave me alone.”

  Flynn cocked his head.

  “They’re asking a high price for your indenture papers, lass, but I know for a fact you’re worth the price.”

  Arleigh’s heart had lurched, and for a brief moment, her body swayed. Oh, he wouldn’t; he couldn’t. Why had she thought for one solitary instant she had any power or control at all? This man could steal her life and soul as easily as he crushed an insect beneath his boot, and he had every reason to seek revenge against her. If he had managed to cheat death and live beyond the confines of mortality, he could control the very breath she took. He could kill her or worse.

  “Shall I buy you?” he had asked.

  “Please don’t,” Arleigh whispered.

  “I like it when you beg, lass. It stirs something inside of me,” He paused and pulled her tightly against him, “and outside. Can you feel what you do to me?”

  His cock swelled against her, and Arleigh shuddered. Flynn brushed his lips across hers, softly, tenderly, but his hand swept over her body with a hunger and tenacity that made her heart beat wildly. When he pulled away, he winked at her again as though he knew a delightful secret.

  “I could take you now,” he murmured. “Would you like that, lass? Shall I find us a place for a moment alone? No one would question me.”

  “No. I want your hands off me.”

  Flynn laughed. “We have all the time in the world to become reacquainted, but think of me every day until I come for you, faery mine. Have no doubt you will belong to me. When I take you, the wait will make the possession all the sweeter. You will be aching for my touch.”

  He had released her, and Arleigh had dropped to her knees, quivering on the dock. When he vanished into a crowd of people, Arleigh burst into tears.

  That was how Stephen Caindale found her, a trembling mass of dirty rags, tears running down her pale face. He had lifted her to her feet, cradled her in his arms, and led her away from the dock. She had seen something in his face even then, a kindness she knew she didn’t deserve and she knew she shouldn’t accept. Even though she risked everything to go with him, she let Stephen Caindale rescue her. And now Stephen had paid the price, and the girls were gone.

  She would visit Cardew and throw herself at his mercy. She would do anything to make sure the girls were safe.

  But first she needed to get that dream out of her head. Or the memory. She’d ceased to know the difference because dreams and reality blended together until she could no longer tell what she’d lived and what she desired. But one thing remained. Her body throbbed. It ached for the touch of a man’s hand, though that would never happen. She’d determined that long ago.

  Was it a memory of Remy Caindale again? She didn’t remember what Remy looked like. She remembered only the feelings that had led to the ether. But for Remy, she’d do it all again.

  She shrugged off the quilt, and Adelina swooped into the attic, swirling around her face. Her pink aura pulsed chaotically, and flashes of magenta shot from her small body. The brightness shone unbearably, and Arleigh covered her eyes.

  “Get up!” Adelina commanded. “There’s something you have to see.”

  Adelina swirled up and flew toward the staircase. Arleigh peered through her fingers.

  “Now!” Adelina said.

  Arleigh stumbled out of bed and reluctantly followed to the staircase. She paused because a noise rose from below, something unusual.

  “Is that snoring?”

  “Aye, a man! Downstairs on the floor. Come!”

  “You must be mistaken. It can’t be a man.”

  Adelina folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “I know a man when I see one, Leanan sidhe. A light flashed then a man appeared.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “Hiding!” Adelina cried. “It’s a man.”

  “I called you all here for protection,” Arleigh mumbled. “Can you not protect me?”

  Adelina winked and circled, a frown creasing her face. “You called us for protection against a faery. This is a man! A man changes everything. The laws do not apply.”

  Arleigh shook her head. “Aye, of course, you’re right. My thank
s for not hiding with the others.”

  Adelina swooped away, her annoyance forgotten, and Arleigh moved into the darkness of the staircase. Each riser creaked on her way to the keeping room and she grimaced.

  She darted about, opening the shutters to let in the rising sun. She glanced toward the hearth and saw no sign of the faeries. Cowards. Adelina winked at her several times then flew to the safety of a jar on the hearthstones.

  Adelina had been right. A man lay on the floor of the cottage. Sprawled on his back, one arm flung out, he snored quietly, his chest rising and falling with long deep breaths. He appeared to be under some kind of spell.

  As the Leanan sidhe, the most beautiful, most favored, most cherished of faeries, she recognized a spell when she saw one.

  You were the Leanan sidhe, Arleigh Donovan. Now you’re nothing but a pitiful human in a frail shape, bound to the earth, paying for thousands of years of sin.

  Sin came in many sizes and shapes, and she had been close to countless men throughout her many lifetimes. Her choices had been limitless, but she knew when a man possessed beauty.

  The man on her floor was beautiful. And he smelled—she leaned closer and inhaled deeply—so tempting and somehow familiar. She had an overwhelming desire to lie beside him and curl in his arms. He stirred memories somewhere within her.

  His angular face held high cheekbones and a strong jaw, framed by long hair the shade of new honey, streaked in places with shades of gold. His clean-shaven face could have been labeled hard, stern, but a dimple marked his chin, and it gave him a hint of boyishness she found appealing. Something about that dimple made her heart ache, but she ignored it and continued her inspection.

  Tall and muscular, his body took up a great deal of space on the floor. He looked strong and healthy. Most of the men of Jamestown did not. They were worked to death before they had a chance to live their lives. This man seemed blanketed in an aura of vitality.

  He wore a pair of light blue breeches made of material she had never seen before. The fabric looked rugged yet soft. She wanted to touch it but feared he would stir. His shirt shone as white as the first snowfall, with tiny buttons down the front and the smallest collar she had ever seen. The long sleeves had buttons, too. Very odd. But his footwear held the most interest.