The Ghost: Shadowstone Legend, #2

By Angela Aaron

A Contemporary Fantasy Romance full of Magic, Mystery and Passion.

Wracked with unending guilt and torment, Brynn must find a way back into the shadowy realm of Fae to rescue his imprisoned comrades. Only one person can help him undertake this dangerous mission, a witch named Fenora. His love. However, Brynn must set aside his feelings for the exotic sorceress and follow his sense of duty, knowing he will not survive.

Fenora thought her dealings with the Fae were finished. However, the arrival of Brynn and the Shadowstone, as well as the unexpected voice calling to her from her garden, was evidence her dealings with the other worldly creatures were far from over. Torn between her sense of duty as a witch and her love for the tortured ancient warrior, Fenora must, once again, unravel the mystery and magic of her destiny.

Together Brynn and Fenora must bring home those trapped in the unearthly realm, despite a shocking revelation that will threaten their future together. 

 

~Mature Content~

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angela Aaron
• Release date: Mar 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215403976

Book preview

Chapter One

Fenora snapped shut the cover of the ancient book, perhaps with a little too much gusto, judging by the scrutinizing look she received from the librarian sitting just a short distance away. She forced an apologetic smile before shifting her gaze back to the tome in front of her. She slid her fingers over the faded and worn cover, continuing to notice the uneasy feeling creeping along her spine and the tingling feeling, like slippery tendrils, sliding up her arms, she’d felt since coming in contact with it. There was something within these pages her instinct warned against. She didn’t like this book. It felt dark and unnatural.

She was more than happy when she’d finished skimming its pages. Ancient alchemy and astronomy wasn’t what she was looking for, anyway, and she was almost relieved she couldn’t decipher anything in the old pages.

Uses for plants, herbs and trees were common enough knowledge, and something she was very familiar with, but she was looking for a different kind of knowledge. The combination of plants, spells, incantations, and earthly secrets that would conjure the Fae is what she needed. The kind of knowledge passed down from mother to daughter, taught and learned. Ancient information. Not the kind written in a book, even though she hoped someone might have published something similar.

She’d missed her opportunity to learn such facts with her disinterest in the fairy lore her grandmother tried to teach her over the years. She’d stubbornly discounted the reality of Faeries and the Fae as any modern woman would have. She didn’t want any part of that crazy folklore her grandmother spoke of. Now...now, she knew better. Now, she knew it wasn’t crazy, nor was it folklore, but instead, it was her fate that she should know these things.

Fenora rose from her seat and carried the book to the return shelf then peeled off the flimsy cotton gloves depositing them into the receptacle. She’d been holed up in the university basement with the musty old books for days with nothing to show for her efforts except the queer sense of caution that came from that last volume.

Fenora chastised herself for easily dismissing her grandmother’s ramblings about the Fae as those of an eccentric old woman instead of someone with the knowledge of the old ways. After her parent’s untimely death in an auto accident, her grandmother had come to live with her. She often saw the suspicious looks her grandmother received and heard the whispers of passerby. She hadn’t wanted to be the topic of those hushed conversations. While she loved her grandmother with all of her heart, she just wasn’t interested in the folklore.

Her bitterness against following in her grandmother’s footsteps reached its peak years ago, while attending university. She’d brought home a friend for the holidays. She had become quite enamored with the handsome man and his dark, sexy, magnetism. She even believed she was falling in love with him. However, once meeting her, he’d become more interested in her grandmother, becoming completely enthralled with the older woman’s wisdom. After a while, he was spending more time with her grandmother than her. Fenora became jealous and even a little resentful at how he’d insinuated himself into her grandmother’s life, often to the point of excluding her, so she stubbornly distanced herself from her grandmother’s folk knowledge and broke up with him, despite her heart’s protest. Even after she’d stopped dating him, he continued to be a regular visitor to the house for some time, having developed a mutual interest in fairy magic with her grandmother.

She was secretly relieved when he’d suddenly stopped showing up, figuring he’d finally become bored with the whole magic thing. She never gave him another thought and her grandmother never mentioned him again. Her grandmother, shortly afterward, moved back to her tiny cottage, leaving Fenora to live in the house by herself.

What knowledge she did gain over the years provided her with the ability to continue selling mixtures for minor illnesses or small spells for those that requested them, after her grandmother had passed away and she’d sold her own house and taken up residence in the cottage. The locals just assumed she’d do as her grandmother did, and Fenora accepted that, knowing most of her magic was, in fact, due to the natural properties of the plants and not her power. And potions she concocted. Despite her desire not to be different, she understood people thought her eccentric, or odd, and she was all right with this persona. Her basic knowledge served her well with the locals and the tourists and provided a steady income from the sale of her garden flowers and produce, as well as the various healing That is, until one day when three strangers showed up at her door who would test all she knew about herself.

Fenora pushed open the double glass doors and climbed the stairs, exiting the library basement. She squinted against the bright sun that greeted her. The warmth promised spring’s return and with it, her desire to discover all she could about the Fae realm. She wanted to learn everything she could about those elusive creatures most thought to be only children’s stories. Fenora knew they were anything but children’s stories, having met and experienced the Fae firsthand.

Fenora recognized her world was making a major shift just under a year ago, on the afternoon she’d met Rebecca Jones, Cailen MacKinnon and Ewan MacMorran, and viewed the ancient parchment they carried. She knew at that instant, as she gazed on their anxious faces standing at her door, that she could no longer deny who she was.

The unlikely meeting on that winter’s day, of a woman descended from the Fae, a medieval warrior and sworn guardian, and his trusted advisor and companion, would test everything Fenora ever held as truth.

They needed her help with interpreting an ancient magical poem and to perform rituals that would open a door to the Fae realm so that they might rescue Rebecca’s mother. At first, Fenora was apprehensive about her desire to become involved with such a monumental task, after all what did she really know and what could she actually do? She was comfortable with her quiet life on the Isle of Mull. Reading an occasional aura or telling a fortune greatly differed from what she was being asked to participate in. She thought long and hard about the consequences such magic held, and even doubted she had the knowledge to undertake such a mission. However, in the end, she realized she had to accept who she was, accept what her grandmother had instilled within her, and accept that she indeed held the magical knowledge necessary for such an undertaking. This was her destiny.

Over the previous year, the others never doubted her capability, but Fenora still held doubts. With each ritual she and Rebecca performed, with each interpretation of the ancient poem, she was flooded with uncertainty and a fear of failure. Adding to her insecurities was discovering there was not only Rebecca’s mother that needed rescuing, but Cailen’s brother as well.

Her self-doubt came to a head last Samhain, the night she and Rebecca tried to release Cailen’s entrapped brother, Brynn, from the enchanted Fae stone. Her suspicion that the magic needed was more than what she possessed came to fruition when she was unable to make Brynn materialize, and instead she’d turned him into a blue ghost-mist that dissolved into the night. After the failure to free Brynn, Fenora felt insignificant against the powers of the Fae. She was devastated she’d condemned this man to an existence as nothing more than enchanted mist. Fenora returned to her little cottage on the Isle of Mull, discouraged for thinking she’d ever held such power, and knowing she’d condemned this man to an eternal existence, trapped between worlds.

Fenora strolled over to a bench and sat down, idly watching university students as they strolled by. She pulled a bottle of water from the pack she carried and took a sip. As she did, a little smile crossed her lips. It was a long fall and winter as she reeled from her failed attempt, but Brynn visited her several times in his non-corporeal form, a swirling blue mist that made love to her in the dead of the night. His visits rekindled her resolve to see him returned to flesh and blood thinking that if he could make love like he did as a ghost, then she was determined to find out what he could do as a man.

Fenora took another swig of water and capped up the bottle. Her renewed vigor threw her headlong into the quest for the magical knowledge to help Rebecca use the Shadowstone to rescue her mother and Brynn and close the door to Fae forever. In the end, they were successful in their mission, and Rebecca’s mother and Brynn were brought into this realm on a cold, stormy winter’s night, just this past January, still fresh in her memory and still able to send shivers down her spine recalling that night.

Fenora was correct in her assumption that Brynn was an amazing lover. He admitted he held memories of his ghost encounters with her. He wasted no time in seeing they shared real encounters.

They were good together, in a steamy, sweaty way. He was a great bedmate, a devoted lover, and he certainly had a healthy appetite for sex. On her regular visits to The Laird’s Inn, he was always glad to see her. He even appeared relieved by her visits and devoted all his attention to her, but that was where it ended.

Rebecca and Cailen were doing their best to acclimate Brynn to the modern world, but it was a big adjustment, one that would take time. Therefore, while the winter passed on, Fenora kept herself busy with her research, granting Brynn the space he needed to find his way in this century. She concentrated instead on learning to be the kick-ass witch her grandmother thought she could be.

Chapter Two

Brynn looked at the stone cradled in his palm. It seemed small in contrast to his large hand. It appeared rather nondescript in its natural state, without the decorative metal that once adorned it. He looked up at the portrait of his brother, hanging before him on the wall of the library in the Laird’s Inn. Cailen was painted wearing the very stone he now held. It had once been fashioned into an amulet, a piece of fine jewelry, to give importance to the stone so that it might not be lost through the years and so that it would travel from one generation onto the next; a treasured heirloom handed down to each successive generation.

Brynn knew it was anything but a delicate piece of jewelry. This stone held enormous power. It was his wife, Ellowyn, one of the gentle Fae, that stole the sacred object from Fae centuries ago so that she might live in the human world with him. It was this stone that opened the door to the Fae realm. It was this stone that had been passed down to Rebecca, Cailen’s mate and descendent of Ellowyn, and used to rescue Brynn from his Fae prison. It was this stone that, oddly enough, landed in his hands at the precise moment he was sprung free.

What he wouldn’t give to know what his former wife knew about this stone. For all the power this stone contained, its magic remained elusive to Brynn. So many nights he’d lain awake, filled with regret that he hadn’t asked more questions of Ellowyn concerning the Shadowstone. Even Ewan, Cailen’s loyal steward, and the man who had known Ellowyn until her death, explained to him that she never spoke of the stone except when it was time to pass it to her granddaughters as the witch who spelled it had instructed.

Try as he might these past weeks to tap into the stone’s power, he was not able to elicit any reaction from the talisman. He wandered the hillsides searching for every Hawthorn tree, every stone circle, any such place that was reputed to be an entrance to Fae. The stone remained static.

It would take magic to find the Fae’s hidden entrances. He did not possess that kind of power or knowledge, but he knew someone who did. Fenora. Her powers could gain him access to the mysterious realm.

Brynn smiled slightly, thinking of the dark-haired lass. Her striking, exotic, beauty was the stuff of fantasies. Her raven tresses, and eyes that were so green they were almost turquoise could make a man hard just thinking about them. She did not like being called a witch and he recalled a very heated conversation where she demanded he not refer to her as such. In this day and age the title witch had negative implications. Stating she was a witch could bring retribution, alienation, and possibly harm. Och, he thought, it seems he would not get used to the changes time had brought.

Brynn closed his eyes wearily. There was so much about this time that did not make sense to him. He wished he could be more like his brother, more accepting of the changes, more at peace with this century. Even after learning the language, thanks to Ewan and his brother, it did not ease his discomfort. He was feeling more and more like an outsider, a misfit adrift in a foreign land.

Cailen had Rebecca, his men, Ewan and John, and the day-to-day operations of the inn to keep him busy. What did he have? He was a warrior, all he knew was how to protect the land Cailen was laird over. Now the land was gone and there was no need of warriors. Despite his brother’s insistence he reside at the inn, this was not his home and he was restless here.

The only time he felt any degree of peace was when he was with Fenora. Her companionship could make him forget what troubled him, even if for only a night or two. She was an amazing lover and he never hesitated taking advantage of their time together. However, she was a woman of her time, fiercely independent and successful on her own. He had nothing to offer Fenora. No land, no title. He was nothing in this modern world. So, despite his immense physical attraction to her, he made no promises.

Brynn opened his eyes and once again glanced down at the stone he held. He was going to have to tell Cailen and Rebecca of his plan. He was going to need Fenora’s help. He dreaded exposing her to even the slightest danger, but he couldn’t do it without her. He had no choice.

You look so much like him, you know.

Brynn closed his fingers around the stone, gingerly slipping it into his pocket as he spun around to meet the curious gaze of his brother’s wife, Rebecca.

Your hair is darker, as are your eyes, but you have the same strong cheek bones and jaw. You also look as if you carry a great weight. She nodded to the portrait, referring to Cailen’s solemn expression.

Rebecca’s hand lovingly rested on the babe within her belly as she continued to look at him.

Cailen is taller, Brynn noted, forcing a smile.

Both of you are strong. Warriors.

This world has nae need of warriors, lass.

Oh, I’m not so sure about that, Rebecca said slipping her arm through his. What’s bothering you, Brynn? Why do you stand here, staring at Cailen’s portrait, so lost in thought?

Brynn took a deep breath, anticipating the confession he was about to make. Just as he was about to speak, the door to the library opened.

Ah, there you are. I’m in need of a strong sword arm for a bit of a go around out back. Are ya up to a wee bit of humiliation? John, one of the four men sworn to protect Cailen when he was placed under the immortal sleep spell, and long time friend, peeked in.

Brynn couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. Just the way John worded the invitation to a sparring match was amusing, but the thought that he could actually beat Brynn was even more so. 

Aye, ye cocky lad. I’ll have that smile wiped off yer face before ya know it, John teased, but with no real malicious intent.

Och, ye know I was the best swordsman, Brynn reminded him.

Aye, but ye’ve become soft, livin’ in yer stone and all.

Well, I’ll let you boys have at it. Rebecca politely excused herself from the middle of the verbal testosterone battle, slipping from the room.

Ten minutes, out back, then we’ll see if ye can still boast at being the best, John teased.

Brynn nodded. Not only was he grateful for the opportunity to burn off some of the frustration he was feeling by a good workout, but he was also grateful for John’s insight into his discomfort and subsequent invention of activities to occupy his overabundance of free time.

A few minutes later saw Brynn in the practice area toward the back of the inn, locked in mock battle with John. The flat, worn ground was tucked away on the far side of the barn, so as to be out of sight of any of the Inn’s guests, but handy enough for impromptu jousts. Despite the remaining chill in the air, Brynn wore only a t-shirt and jeans, working up enough sweat to keep warm. White plumes of frozen breath swirled around each combatant with every puff or grunt they made, as blade contacted blade. Muscles strained, taut with exertion, as both men swung and dodged, then swung again.

Brynn found the deadly dance of sword practice exhilarating. He knew one wrong move, even in practice, could cost him his life, or in the very least, a nasty wound. Nevertheless, he was a trained warrior, one of the best, the one that others strove to beat. He was the laird’s brother, the commander of the garrison. He did not become a mighty fighter by avoiding danger. Being a fighter was second nature to him, instinctive and natural. He’d spent more time on horseback with his sword than any place else. That was, until he met Ellowyn.

Ellowyn, with her white hair and fair features. She was one of the gentle Fae, who dared to love him, a human, all those centuries ago. She gave him hope that there would be more to his life than just patrolling land. With her, he would make a home, raise a family, and grow old.

Brynn let out a roar as he came at John with sword raised. The thought of Ellowyn and his son, growing old, alone, without him, didn’t sit well even after all these years. He had reconciled his heart to the truth that what he’d had with her was long past, but that did not make the guilt of what he’d put her through any less. She never knew what had happened to him. She believed, as did Cailen and the others, that he’d died in that furious battle with the Fae. Then, as time went on, his memory of her began to fade, as it continued to fade, now. Fae has a way of distorting time and memories, whether in that realm or this. Maybe it was for the best, his memories were few, as they were sure to be a painful burden, if he recalled them as he’d experienced. If it weren’t for Cailen making sure he didn’t forget Ellowyn, he would have little memory of her.

I fear I am fighting yer ghosts, Brynn, John huffed, raising his sword to fend off Brynn’s blow. Will ye focus, mon?

Brynn brought his concentration back to the fight.

I have more than ghosts that haunt me, Brynn confessed, between labored breaths, but elaborated no further. He sidestepped John’s blade, raising a cloud of dust around his legs as he spun around, and brought his sword down toward John.

John deflected the blow, sending Brynn back a few steps, only to give him the leverage to spring back toward his opponent. As he leapt toward John, Brynn saw the face of another man flash into his vision, a moment before his thoughts righted themselves and John once again appeared before him.

Brynn shook his head, dispelling the strange image as he continued to spar. A moment later, another image appeared in his mind, one of a bloodied battlefield, and as the clash of his sword contacted with John’s, Brynn could see clearly, the foe he faced.

Coal black hair, an eerie amber glow emanating from his eyes. Brynn tried to pull his thoughts back to John and the Inn, but it became harder and harder to focus as the fury began to rise and his world took on an eerily slow motion. His heart hammered in his chest, he could hear the roar of the blood rushing through his veins as it pumped adrenaline through his body. He no longer felt the weight of his sword, as it became a physical extension of his arm, moving without effort or thought, as he repeatedly swung with all his might at the enemy who approached.

He glanced over his shoulder to find Ellowyn had fled, as instructed. He returned his attention to the fight before him. Two comrades stood at his side, men he had known since they were all young lads, as the blood and carnage grew around them. He knew he would die, just like the others, but keeping the Fae distracted to give Ellowyn time to escape, became his sole mission. The death screams of his men were deafening in his ears. Oddly, he felt no fear at the imminent destruction facing him, only regret at disappointing Ellowyn and their child. There was no time to dwell on disappointments, no time to contemplate anything more, as the Fae leader stood before him. The otherworldly being raised his arms, outstretched before him, and released a staggering force aimed directly at him. As a strange blue mist encircled him, he felt the numbing pain at the same time his body became rigid. His lungs seized, unable to draw breath, yet he heard the unmistakable roar of his own voice screaming from this throat...

BRYNN! Cailen’s booming voice broke through Brynn’s thoughts.

BRYNN! Bellowed Cailen a second time. Drop yer sword, he commanded.

Brynn blinked as he gasped for breath and saw that he held John at sword point beneath him. Conscious thought returned. When he realized what he was doing, he abruptly threw down his sword and staggered back. John scrambled to his feet, shaking the dust and fear off. He stepped over to Brynn.

Och, lad, it seems ye are haunted by more than just a few ghosts. John let out a weary breath and clapped Brynn on the shoulder.

Regret filled Brynn on so many levels. Ellowyn, Cailen, his men, and yes, even Fenora, and now John. How could he allow a battle frenzy to consume him over a friendly brawl? He’d almost hurt, no almost killed, a long time friend. Brynn looked at the concerned faces of John and Cailen before spinning on his heels and stomping away.

Brynn! Cailen called after him

Brynn did not stop.

* * *

Och mon. What were ye thinkin’, going after John like that?

Brynn looked up as his brother Cailen stormed into the library, interrupting his thoughts.

What madness came over ya? Ye are the most skilled warrior I know. Sharp. Ye never let the blood lust overcome yer focus. Cailen stepped closer to Brynn. Is John right? Are there demons ye wrestle with?

When Brynn didn’t answer, Cailen moved away. Brynn could hear the clanking of glasses as Cailen poured two drams of scotch from a decanter that sat on a small side table near the desk. He returned, holding out one glass for him to take.

Brynn swallowed back the scotch in one long gulp, the amber liquid burning his throat as he did. He grimaced and sucked in a breath as he shook it off and set down the glass. Nae did like the stuff.

Cailen refilled his glass. So are ye gonna explain why were ye about to skewer John? Cailen took a seat in the thick leather chair behind the desk.

I donnae know.

Cailen shot him a skeptical look.

Truly. I donnae know what came over me. ‘Twas like the nightmares I’ve been havin’. Brynn reached for the glass and took a drink.

Ye have been havin’ nightmares?

Aye, most nights since I was brought into this century. About the only time I donnae have them is when I am with the witch. Either her magical power or her feminine power holds them at bay.

And these nightmares instructed you to kill John?

Brynn shook his head.

What then, Brynn? I’m tryin’ to understand here. Talk to me.

Brynn set the glass down and stepped away from the desk. Although much about Fae and Ellowyn I cannae recall, except what ye and Ewan have told me, I relive the night I was captured over and over. I fight the Fae every bloody night. I feel the loss of seeing Ellowyn flee, and never knowing my son. I feel the guilt of watching my men cut down, one by one. I can smell the blood and death. I see that powerful Fae, the one you confirmed was Rebecca’s father, coming at me, I see him strike Leith, Taran, and meself, and I feel meself going numb, and then see the swirling blue mist. Brynn turned around to face Cailen. I relive this each time I close my eyes.

And you were thinking of this when sparring with John?

Aye. As of late, the dreams have become more vivid, and now, after today, have invaded my wake time. Brynn turned to face his brother. I am still connected to Fae because Taran and Leith remain there, locked in that same eternal state as was I.

‘Tis yer guilt that ye are here and they are there, that is eating at you and causing these nightmares.

Aye. The Fae took everything from me that night.

Brynn looked at the concern etched on Cailen’s face. His brother truly loved him and he hoped this affection would remain when he confessed what he was about to do.

Brynn stepped over to the desk once more, reached into his pocket, withdrew the Shadowstone, and placed it squarely in the center of the desk.

A look of horror crossed Cailen’s face as he abruptly stood and stepped back.

Och, Christ. Where did ye get that?

The moment my stone prison began to crack and the light and fire broke in, this stone landed at my feet. I was able to grab it the split second afore I was whisked out. I donnae ken what made me grab for it. I didnae ken what it was until after hearing you, Rebecca, and Fenora talkin’ about it.

Cailen remained apart from the stone, looking at Brynn from several paces away. Brynn took a deep breath, stealing his resolve. I’m goin’ to ask the witch to help me rescue my men from Fae.

Brynn waited for the explosion that he knew would come from Cailen at his confession, but instead, Cailen just stared at him, completely void of emotion on his face. Brynn almost wished for the angered response, at least he knew how to react to that. After many long uncomfortable moments of silence, Cailen finally spoke up.

‘Twill be dangerous, but ‘tis yer duty to help yer men.

Aye. Brynn was pleased by Cailen’s unexpected reaction and wondered if it wasn’t from the guilt of not supporting him those many years ago when he petitioned him for help against the Fae.

Rebecca will nae be a part of this. Cailen’s firm statement echoed through the library.

As well she should nae, Brynn agreed.

Ewan, John, and even Rebecca willnae be pleased you will undertake this.

Cailen, I have nae purpose. This quest gives me purpose.

So this is a foolhardy attempt to find purpose? Cailen asked, his voice terse.

Nae. You have Rebecca and the runnin’ of this inn, Ewan has you, and John has his kitchen. I have nothing’. I’m feeling restless here. I am a warrior, ‘tis all I know. I have a chance to put something right, again. The past is nae over for me. I cannae make my way in this world as long as there are unfinished things from the past I must resolve. I must at least try.

Is that why you donnae settle down with yer woman? You could do worse, ya know.

Brynn smiled a sad smile. My woman? She’s nae likely to be any man’s woman.

Ye bed her.

Aye, but nothin’ more. I have known for sometime that I must undertake this mission. I will not commit to anyone when the possibility exists that I will nae return.

Yer sense of duty does ya proud, brother.

Thank you for your support, Cailen. Brynn downed the rest of the scotch. Donnae tell anyone yet. I must speak with Fenora first.

Aye. I donnae envy you with that.

Chapter Three

Fenora maneuvered her car onto the winding two-track driveway leading to her cottage. She noticed Brynn sitting on one of the benches near her back door. She was pleased to see him, surprised, actually, but at the same time, filled with trepidation by his presence. Him being here was unusual, and once again Fenora felt as if this was going to be one of those deciding moments where her life was about to change directions. She parked her car, gathered her things, and headed toward the brooding Highlander.

He stood at her approach and without hesitation pulled her against him, placing his lips on hers for a deep thorough kiss. She went easily into his embrace, quite enjoying his greeting. His attraction to her was palpable and sparks always flew as soon as they were near one another. This time was no different, as Fenora felt the familiar tightening in her belly.

Ye are like a song to my troubled soul. I hae been too long without ya, he confessed, pulling back and looking at her. Fenora looked up into those dark eyes and saw the truth of his words. Hidden in their depths was a turmoil she could not name.

She knew she should ask him why he was here, but part of her dreaded his response and wanted to prolong his answer as long as possible.

Come. Let’s get in out of the cold, Fenora offered, as he easily lifted the two bags of groceries from her grasp.

They entered the tiny cottage, filled with the heady aroma of various herbs and spices. Brynn took the bags to the kitchen while Fenora removed her coat and latched the front door. Before she could turn around, she felt him come up behind her and snake his hand around her waist. Splaying his hand on her stomach, he pulled her against him, pressing himself along the length of her spine. Using his other hand to move aside her hair, she felt his hot breath on her neck, a moment before she felt his lips touch her skin. He nipped and licked a tiny path from her shoulder to behind her ear as he ground his hips against her. The hand that rested on her stomach, slid lower over her skirt to cup her between her thighs. He did not let up on his kisses and Fenora found herself gripping the door jam to keep from collapsing. She involuntarily pushed her backside against him.

His movements were demanding, almost desperate as he gathered up her skirt, moved it aside and slid his hands inside her panties. Fenora couldn’t help the moan that escaped her, as his fingers slipped between her thighs. God, he was doing such delicious things to her, sliding in and out, stroking her, she could barely keep a conscious thought.

Fenora twisted her arm behind her, awkwardly reaching for his arousal she felt against her, but to no avail. She was pinned between him and the wall and he wasn’t in any hurry to release her. His lips paused near her ear, as his fingers continued their tantalizing strokes between her legs.

Never ya mind that right now, lass. Come for me. I want ye ready when I take ya. And you can be assured I’m going to take ya.

Fenora felt the heat surge through her at his declaration.

That’s it, lass. Och... Brynn’s statement went unfinished as he drew a long steadying breath before kissing her again.

Fenora’s breath came in short pants as she felt herself yielding to the sensations climbing higher inside her. Her breasts felt heavy, straining against her bra and Fenora lifted her own hands to cup and rub the sensitive peaks straining for attention.

This time it was Brynn that let out the moan; she was sure it was in response to her fingers stroking her own breasts that she’d freed from her bra. It aroused him beyond measure when she touched herself. This time was no different, she could tell by the increased thrust of his hips and the increased movement of his hand between her legs.

Fenora sucked in a breath as she felt her body tighten. Jesus, she was going to come, and come hard, from his unrelenting touch. She felt his fingers  continue the slow, tantalizing in and out rhythm. as he spread her legs for easier access. He rubbed his body along hers, making sure she felt his hardness against her back.

I am needin’ ya, Fenora. I intend to bury meself in yer heat and take ye hard and swift. Before ye even have time to collect yer thoughts, you’ll be soaring to the moon again. He turned her head and with some effort, slammed his mouth on hers for a scorching kiss, his tongue mingling with hers.

Fenora came apart, then, clenching down on his hand, moaning between kisses, barely able to stand. Her orgasm was as good as it gets, building, building to that fevered moment when all thoughts, save finding gratification, ceased. She was vocal with the pleasure washing over her. She wanted Brynn to know how completely helpless he made her.

Brynn gave her several moments to ride the wave of her climax, but before she could completely come down, he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. He stood her, facing the bed, and bent her over to lean on the soft covering. He hurriedly unfastened his jeans, threw aside her skirt, divested her of her panties, and without hesitation, slid his cock deep inside her. He gave her no respite from her orgasm as he thrust inside her, his movements deep and hard, as he’d promised. Fenora surrendered to his desperate lovemaking, giving all he demanded of her. There was urgency in the way he made love to her, and she found herself, once again, helplessly climbing the invisible steps toward release, from his frantic movements.

Fenora called out when an orgasm came crashing over her for a second time, more intense than the first, if that was possible. She could feel Brynn thick and heavy inside her, feel him suddenly stiffen, feel the hot jets of his release as the moans of his surrender filled her room.

He didn’t move for long moments, resting along her back, until Fenora finally moved aside, unable to hold his weight any longer. He lay down next to her, looking at her.

Och, lass, ye are an amazin’ lover.

Fenora found his words tugged at her heart. She was sure he didn’t intend his statement to be sad, but that’s how she perceived it. She wanted him to say he loved her. It somehow seemed appropriate now, after their continued intimacies.

Fenora sat up and unbuttoned her blouse, next removing her bra. She stood and shimmied out of her skirt then turned to face Brynn. In the afterglow of making love, his features softened but his mood remained dark. He watched her intently, even gave a slight smile when she moved to unbutton his shirt with the intent of divesting him of his remaining clothes. She freed his hair from the tie that held it in a ponytail. Still, there were no more words from him as he turned and slipped underneath the covers. Fenora sighed and crawled into bed next to Brynn. She could sense the despair he kept in check, even as he pulled her close and placed a kiss on her forehead. His reluctance to speak hurt more than she let on. This man, not unlike his brother, had his secrets.

* * *

Some time later Fenora opened her eyes from her sex induced nap. She looked around and saw Brynn was not next to her. The noise coming from the kitchen told her where he was. The sun had faded and she guessed it was near dinnertime by the way her stomach rumbled. She hurriedly threw on an old pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt and strolled out to the kitchen.

Yer awake, and I’m suspectin’ as hungry as I. He stood dressed only in his jeans, his hair once again pulled back, staring into the open refrigerator, studying the contents.

Och woman, ye have nothin’ of substance. Fruit, vegetables. Donnae ye have some meat or bread?

Fenora stepped over to the fridge, waving him away. Ah, drop the ‘och woman’, Brynn. I’ll make some eggs. I have some cheese and, yes, there is bread. She reached around him pulling out the ingredients she needed. You sit. I’ll cook.

Brynn conceded to her suggestion, taking a seat at the small dining table. There is somethin’ I’m needin to discuss with ya.

Fenora threw him a curious glance, not liking the way his voice held an ominous tone. She turned back to the pan of eggs cooking on the burner, trying to ignore the sense of trepidation coming over her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach into his pants pocket and withdraw something. She glanced over at him the instant he opened his hand and held out his palm to show her what he held.

Fenora nearly knocked the pan from the stove and tripped over a dining chair in her haste to scramble away from him. She moved