Page 51 of A Little Highland Magic

Chapter Nineteen

Graeme kept walking as the sun started to dip towards the horizon. He was beginning to question his choice of direction. Perhaps he should have headed to the west. He had been walking for hours and had yet to see Aria or Gille. Yet with every step he took, he felt Aria’s presence growing closer, or was it only wishful thinking that was playing on his senses?

Anguish burned in Graeme’s chest, but he forced it deep inside. There would be time for remorse later, a whole lifetime. What he needed now was a clear head and sharp senses to find the one woman he had ever allowed to touch his heart.

A hundred more steps and he saw a dark object in the distance. He started to run. The object was not dark, it was blue with pale hair. Aria!

“Aria.” Sweet, dizzying relief stole through him. He dropped to her side. Then terror took hold at the sight of her bloodstained chemise. Was she dead? “Dear Lord, nay!” he cried, as all the anguish he had felt before finding her came rushing back.

Aria lay so still, her face ashen white and steeped in pain. His gaze dropped lower on her chest, and he noted the soft rise and fall of her breathing. “Praise the heavens!” he exclaimed, then his euphoria died as he noticed the silver chain about her neck. He grasped the iron, pulled it over her head, throwing it aside.

Released from the grip of the iron, Aria opened her eyes and stared in disbelief. “Graeme?” Her voice was weak, but the pain no longer etched lines around her features. “Am I dreaming?”

Graeme drew her into his arms, gathering her close enough to feel her heart beating against his own. “’Tis no dream. I am truly here. Not even the portal’s tricks could keep us apart.” He pressed his lips to hers for a brief, heartfelt kiss.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and buried her head in the curve of his shoulder. “I was so frightened.”

“Who did this to you?”

Her eyes flared open, and she drew back. “Keiran.”

A ripple of shocked disbelief moved through him. “Why would he do such a thing to his own kin, then leave you to die?” Graeme was certain that would have been Aria’s fate had he not arrived when he did.

“Keiran is under a spell of some sort—has probably been since he first arrived here in Fairyland.”

“How will we break the spell?” he asked as he pushed aside her chemise, looking at the wound beneath. It was a superficial cut that had already stopped bleeding, for which he was grateful.

“All warriors have wounds,” she said. “I will heal, and it will only be a slight reminder of a time when I let my guard down against an enemy.”

“Is Keiran our enemy now?”

Aria straightened, her strength returning. “Nay. He is as much a victim as I was at times of the magic of Fairyland.”

Graeme nodded. He was unhappy that she had suffered more abuse at hands of those who should have loved her, but he was grateful she was alive and relatively unharmed.

“I have an idea of something that might break Keiran’s enchantment. But first we must go to Moonstone Castle and confront Oberon face to face. No more tricks, no more creatures of Fairyland to get in our way, no more separations for us.” She took Graeme’s hand in hers. A glint in her eyes told him she was not about to be defeated by magic or any other means again.

Graeme reached up and laid his hand against her cheek. “What did I do to deserve a warrior like you in my life?”

Smiling, she turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. “What did I do to deserve a partner like you?” Her smile slipped and the glint in her eyes vanished. “Before we leave for the castle, Graeme, there is something—”

“This time apart has also made me think, Aria. We need to stop waiting for the right moment for everything. Only the here and now matters. Neither of us can know the future, but we have this moment. Let us not waste it with talk.”

He drew her near again, his gaze never leaving her face. He lowered his mouth until he could feel her breath on his lips. As gentle as a breeze, his lips met hers. A simple touch and his body flooded with heat. His limbs felt weak, his mind numb, until all he could sense was her—her taste, her smell—heather and sunshine. The combination was as intoxicating as the feel of her hands on his cheek, his neck, his back.

The woman in his arms was a survivor. She’d already endured years of torment and abuse at the hands of the fairies, Oberon’s machinations, and a near-death experience from a sword and a simple iron chain. She would continue to survive and thrive with him at her side. If only she would have him.

As he had walked northward, he had thought about the feelings he had experienced when he had thought she was dead. It seemed more urgent now, more than ever, that they should start planning for a future together. He should ask her to marry him, in this moment, yet the words he longed to put before her shrivelled and died as sensations flooded his body, deluging his thoughts, drowning his voice until he could only whisper, “I love you.”

Her breath played on his mouth, and she murmured something as she slid her hands beneath his shirt and moulded her body to his. With a quick intake of air, she released his lips and tugged his shirt over his head. Desire dilated her eyes. And something more—a look that said she trusted him, loved him, desired him above all else. She did not say the words, but he saw them written clearly in her eyes.

He reached for her belt, unfastening her sword and scabbard, then setting them nearby. He released his own and placed it next to hers before returning to her stays, which he loosened enough to pull her gown over her head. Her chemise followed, then her boots and stockings, until she was naked before him. He divested himself of his remaining clothes and joined her again on the soft, sweet-smelling grass.

He trailed his fingers across the silken flesh and up the delicate curve of her hips, her waist, and to her breasts, circling her nipples, urging them to taut peaks. A moan of desire escaped her, and he felt a responding echo within himself, inflaming his passion.

His tongue replaced his fingers as his mouth fastened on first one breast, then the other, licking, nipping, teasing. Continuing his exploration, he kissed the valley between her breasts and dipped lower, to her waist, her belly, her navel, and lower still, until he kissed the apex of her womanhood.

She tensed in surprise, but he allowed her time to adjust to his presence there, until the heat spreading through him also spread through her with his hot, wet kisses. He continued to gently stroke her until she was unable to control either her broken moans or her trembling.