Page 52 of A Little Highland Magic

He circled her with his tongue, then pushed inside her. She thrust against him in response, wanting more, and he could feel the tension building inside her, growing tighter and tighter with each thrust and circle of his tongue. Then, on a broken cry, she arched against him, erupted, surrendering to the dark, whirling pleasure he had created.

Still at the peak of her glory, she reached for him with hungry hands, urging him upward, over her body. She rose to meet him, kissing the sensitive flesh of his chest, his shoulder, his mouth as he parted her thighs. He tangled his hands in the silken cloud of her white hair, then cradled her head, drawing her mouth to his once more. “Aria, my love.”

Her lips parted in unconscious provocation. And he accepted what she offered. With one quick thrust he entered her slick core, his mouth crushing hers, absorbing the sigh of ecstasy that twinned in their breaths. Warmth and fullness. He thrust inside her, continued to stroke her, holding himself back, wanting her pleasure to soar again before he joined her in that light and magical place.

She locked her legs around his hips and rocked with him, until the very essence of her being—her feel, her taste, her scent—merged with his own. Until there was no telling where she ended, and he began. They did not need words to bind them, not when they were already joined, both body and soul, one to the other.

Unable to hold himself back a moment longer, he thrust into her, surrendering himself to her sweetness, wishing this moment could last forever, even though he knew it could not. They still had a mission to complete.

He remained deep inside her, until their breathing returned to normal, and the beat of her heart slowed to a steady, even rate. He rose to his elbows and looked down at her face, memorising every detail before he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, pulling her against his side. With a sigh of contentment, she nuzzled against his chest.

He hated to break the moment, but something else needed to be said. “I am so very sorry about your mother, Aria.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice raw. “A part of me acknowledges her loss and longs to grieve; the other desperately hopes that when we negotiate with Oberon, we can force him to free my mother as well as set Keiran free.”

“We can try,” he agreed. “For I truly wanted her to come back to Dunvegan with us.”

Aria gave him a hopeful smile.

A heartbeat later his attention shifted from her face to over her shoulder, noticing for the first time the glowing yellow lights that surrounded them. Graeme reached for his sword, but Aria stilled his hand.

“Nay. ’Tis only woodland sprites who live in the forest and meadow. They will not harm us.”

Graeme squinted his eyes, trying to make out a form in the tiny lights that hovered the length of an arm away from them.

“They sense emotion, are drawn to it,” Aria said, holding out her arm. Two of the lights came to rest on her skin, and for the first time, Graeme saw a tiny body dressed in leaves, with long, golden hair, pointed ears, and translucent golden wings.

“You are certain they mean us no harm?” he asked hesitantly.

Aria chuckled as one of the sprites raced along her arm to her hand. She transferred the sprite to Graeme’s shoulder. “They are curious—that is all.”

The creature’s little feet tickled his skin as it ran from his shoulder down his arm, then flew up into the air in a whisper of sound. “They seem harmless enough.”

Aria’s amusement slipped as she watched one of the sprites fly not straight, but in a sporadic loop, like a hiccupping butterfly. She offered her hand as a landing place to the injured creature and stared down at it as it lay against her palm. “You poor thing. Your wing is broken.” She removed the vial of water from about her neck and opened it. She made to pour a drop out, but the little creature scurried to the far side of her hand, shaking.

“It is all right,” Aria said in a soothing voice. “Here, let me show you.” She turned the vial towards herself and poured a drop on the wound on her chest. Before Graeme’s eyes, the wound sealed and then vanished, leaving smooth, unmarred flesh.

“How can the water do such a thing?” Graeme asked.

“It is a source of my power and from the human realm, making it a magical potion in the fairy realm.” She smiled down at the sprite. “Would you like your wing mended?”

At the creature’s nod, Aria poured the tiniest drop on the sprite’s wing, and the bent appendage straightened. The sprite flapped her wings and flew out of Aria’s hand, flying about her head in smooth, straight lines.

“You are full of surprises, and so very kind to others.” Graeme pulled Aria close and pressed a kiss to her forehead and a quiet, tender moment passed between them. “I want so many more days like this one between us in the future.”

“The torturous moments we can live without.” She tilted her head and raised a brow. “But if you mean making love and sharing special moments, then aye. Much more of that in the future, please.”

“Agreed.” His lips quirked a moment before he sobered. “We still have a trial ahead of us. For we must find Gille and undo what has been done to Keiran. Only then will he agree to return with us to the human realm.”

“That is true,” she said, reaching for her clothes.

Graeme stopped her from putting her bloody chemise back on. “We should clean this first.” He shifted the garment in his hands, searching for the soiled, damaged portion. But the garment was now its usual white and the tear had been carefully mended. He gaped at the cloth. “How is this possible?”

Aria took the garment from his hands. “I believe the sprites washed and mended it for me while we were otherwise engaged.” Hot colour rose to her cheeks as she slipped the garment over her head.

“The sprites are really benevolent, aren’t they?” he asked, watching them dance all around them, riding the gentle currents of air. The once-damaged sprite joined in, happily keeping up with the others now.

Aria nodded. “I believe they like that we are as happy as they are at the moment.”