Jewels of the Sun

CHAPTER Eighteen

She wouldn't be expecting him, not so early in any case. But since Darcy was being so cooperative, Aidan had taken off a couple of hours before closing to walk the road to Jude's cottage.

The night was balmy with the breeze from the sea. Clouds sailed briskly over the sky so that patches of stars winked out, glimmered, then vanished. The moon was round and fat, its light gentle.

A fine night, Aidan thought, for romancing the woman you intended to marry.

He'd brought her a clutch of fairy roses in delicate pink that he'd stolen from Kathy Duffy's garden. He didn't think the woman would mind the loss when it was going to such a good cause.

There were lights glowing in her windows, a warm and welcome sight to him. He imagined that in years to come, when they were married and settled, it would be the same. He'd walk home after work and she'd be waiting with the lights burning to guide his step. It no longer surprised him how much he wanted that, or how clearly he could see it all. Night following night, year following year, toward a lifetime.

He didn't knock. Such formalities had already slipped away between them. He noted that she'd already tidied from the party. It was so like her, he thought with affection. Everything was neat and orderly and just as it should be.

He heard music drifting down the stairs and walked up toward it.

She was in her little office with the radio playing soft and the pup snoring at her feet under the table. Her hair was bound back, her fingers moving briskly over computer keys.

He had an urge to scoop her into his arms and gobble her whole. But he didn't think that was the right move under the circumstances.

Persuasion, he reminded himself, didn't come from the fast and the hot, but the slow and the warm.

He crossed to her, moving quietly, then bent down to brush a soft kiss on the nape of her neck.

She jolted, but he'd anticipated that and, chuckling, wrapped his arms around her so the flowers were under her chin and his mouth was at her ear.

"You look so pretty sitting here, a ghra, working away into the night. What tale are you spinning out?"

"Oh, I-" Her heart was in her throat. He was right that she hadn't expected him. Not just so early, but at all. She knew she'd been abrupt and rude, and even cold, and had convinced herself that what had been between them was done. She'd even begun to mourn for it.

Yet here he was, bringing her flowers and speaking softly in her ear.

"It's, ah, the story of the pooka and Paddy McNee that

Mr. Riley told me. These are lovely, Aidan." Since she was far from ready for anyone to see her work, she tipped the top of the computer down, then sniffed the roses.

"I'm glad you like them as they're stolen goods and the garda may come by at any moment to arrest me."

"I'll pay your bail." She turned in the chair to look at him. He wasn't angry, she noted with puzzled relief. A man couldn't smile like that if he was angry. "I'll go put them in water, and make you some tea."

When she rose the pup turned over with a grumble and a groan and recurled himself.

"As a guard dog he's a pure failure," Aidan commented.

"He's just a baby." She took the flowers as they walked downstairs. "And I've nothing to guard anyway."

It was such a pleasure to slide back into routine, the friendliness and flirtation. Part of her wanted to bring up what happened the night before, but she tucked it away. Why mention something that put them at odds?

He was probably regretting that he'd asked her, and relieved that she'd said no. For some reason that line of thinking had that dark, nasty brew bubbling inside her again. She ordered herself to settle down and tucked the pink roses into a pale blue bottle.

As she did, she noticed the time and frowned. "It's barely ten o'clock. Did you close the pub?"

"No, I took a couple hours. I'm entitled now and then. And I missed you," he added, laying his hands on her waist. "For you didn't come see me."

"I was working." / didn't think you'd want to see me. Weren't we angry with each other? she wondered even as he bent down to brush his lips over hers.

"And I've interrupted. But since that deed is done-" He drew back. "Come walking with me, won't you, Jude Frances?"

"Walking? Now?"

"Aye." He was already circling her toward the back door. "A lovely night it is for walking."

"It's dark," she said, but she was out the door.

"There's light. Moon and stars. The best kind of light. I'll tell you a story of the faerie queen who only came out from her palace at night, when there was a moon to guide her steps. For even faeries can have spells cast on them, and hers was that she was cursed to take the form of a white bird during the day."

As they walked, her hand linked with his, he spun it out for her, painting the picture of the lonely queen wandering by night and the black wolf she found wounded at the base of the cliffs.

"He had eyes of emerald green that watched her warily, but her heart couldn't resist and overcame any fear. She tended to him, using her art and her skill to heal his hurts. From that night he became her companion, walking the hills and the rock with her night after night until as dawn shimmered over the sea she left him with a flutter of white wings and a sorrowful call that came from her broken heart."

"Was there no way to break the spell?"

"Oh, there's always a way, isn't there?" He lifted their joined hands to his lips, kissed her knuckles, then drew her along toward the cliff path where the sea began to roar and the wind fly.

Moonlight splattered on the high, wild grass, and the path cut between it, turned pebbles into silver coins and weathered stone into hunched elves. She let Aidan guide her up while she waited for him to start the story again.

"One morning, a young man was hunting in the fields, for he was hungry and had no more than his quiver of arrows and his bow to feed him. Game had been scarce for many days, and that day, as others, the rabbits and deer eluded him until it came to afternoon and his hunger was great. It was then he saw the white bird soaring, and thinking only of his belly, he notched his arrow in his bow, loosed the arrow, and brought her down. Mind your step here, darling. That's the way."

"But he can't have killed her."

"I've not finished yet, have I?" He turned to pull her up. Then he held her there a moment, just held her as she fit so well against him.

"She let out a cry, filled with pain and despair that ripped at his heart even as his head reeled from lack of food. He raced to her, and found her watching him with eyes blue as a lake. His hands trembled, as they were eyes he knew, and he began to understand."

Turning Jude, tucking her under his arm, he began to walk again under the splattering light of star and moon. "Though he was half starved, he did what he could to heal the wound he'd made and took the bird to the shelter of these cliffs. And building a fire to warm her, he sat guarding her and waited for sunset."

When they reached the top, Aidan slipped an arm around her so they could look out at the dark sea together. Water rolled in, then back, then in again, a rhythm constant, primitive, sexual.

And understanding that Aidan's stories had their rhythm too, Jude lifted a hand to cover his. "What happened next?"

"What happened was this. As the sun dipped, and night reached out for day, she began to change, as did he. So woman became bird and man wolf, and for one instant they reached for each other. But hand passed through hand, and the change was complete. So it went through the night, with her too feverish and weak to heal herself. And the wolf never left her side, but stayed to warm her with his body and guard her with his life if need be. Are you cold?" he asked, as she shivered.

"No," she whispered. "Touched."

"There's more yet. Night passed into day again, and again day into night, and each time they had only that instant to reach for each other and be denied. He never left her side to eat, as man or as wolf, and so was near to dying himself. Sensing it, she used what power she had left to strengthen him, to save him rather than herself. For the love she felt for him meant more than her life. Once again dawn shimmered in the sky, and the change began. Once again they reached for each other, knowing it was hopeless, and her knowing she would never see another sunrise. But this time, the sacrifice they'd both made was rewarded. Hands met, fingers clasped, and they looked on each other, finally, man to woman, woman to man. And the first words they spoke were of love."

"Happy-ever-after?''

"Better. He who had been a king in his own right of a far-off land took his faerie queen to wife. Never did they spend a single sunset or a single sunrise apart for the rest of their days."

"That was lovely." She laid her head on his shoulder. "And so is this."

"It's my place. Or so I thought of it when I was a boy and would come clambering up here to look out at the world and dream of where I'd go in it."

"Where did you want to go?"

"Everywhere." He turned his face into her hair and thought that now, here was everywhere enough for him. But for her, it was different. "Where do you want to go, Jude?"

"I don't know. I've never really thought about it."

"Think now, then." He shifted her, then settled down with her on a rock. "Of all the places there are, what do you want to see?"

"Venice." She didn't know where that had come from, and laughed at herself to realize it had been in her mind ready to pop out. "I think I'd like to see Venice with its wonderful buildings and grand cathedrals and mysterious canals. And the wine country in France, all those acres of vineyards with grapes ripening, the old farmhouses and gardens. And England. London, of course, for the museums, the history, but the countryside more. Cornwall, the hills and the cliffs, to breathe the air where Arthur was born."

No tropical islands and baking beaches or exotic ports of call for his Jude Frances now, Aidan noted. It was romance and again tradition with the hint of legend that she wanted.

"None of those places is so very far from where we're sitting now. Why don't you come away with me, Jude, and we'll see them?"

"Oh, sure, we'll just fly off to Venice tonight and wend our way back through France and England."

"Well, now, tonight might be a bit of a problem, but the rest is what I had in mind. Would you mind waiting till September?"

"What are you talking about?"

A honeymoon was what he nearly said, but he thought it best to be cautious for the time being. "About you coming away with me." He had her hand again, nibbling along her fingers as he smiled at her over them. "About you flying off with me to places of romance and mystery and legend. I'll show you Tintagal, where Arthur was conceived the night Merlin worked his magic on Uther so Ygraine thought she was greeting her own husband. And we'll stay in one of those farmhouses in France and drink their wine and make love in a big feather bed. Then we'll stroll along the canal in Venice and wonder at the grand cathedrals. Wouldn't you like that, sweetheart?"

"Yes, of course." It sounded glorious, magical. Like another of his stories. "It's just impossible."

"Why would that be?"

"Because- I have work, and so do you."

He chuckled, then switched his attentions from her fingers to the side of her jaw. "And do you think my pub would crumble or your work vanish? What's two weeks or so in the grand scheme of things, after all?"

"Yes, that's true, but-"

"I've seen those places you spoke of." He moved to her mouth to quietly seduce. "Now I want to see them with you." His hands skimmed over her face, and he began to lose himself in her, the tastes and textures of her. "Come away with me, a ghra." He murmured it, drawing her closer when she shivered.

"I- I'm supposed to go back to Chicago."

"Don't." His mouth grew hotter, more possessive. "Be with me."

"Well-" Her thoughts wouldn't line up. Every time she tried to align one, it tumbled down, scattering others. "Yes, I suppose-" What was a couple of weeks, after all? "In September. If you're sure-"

"I'm sure." He got to his feet, then plucked her off the rock, grinning when she gave a gasp and locked her arms around his neck. "Are you thinking I'd be dropping you, now that I've got you? I take better care of what's mine than that."

Of what was his? The phrase worried her a bit, but before she could think of how to respond, she saw the figure behind them.

"Aidan." Her voice was barely more than a breath.

He tensed, tucked her under his arm to defend, then turning, relaxed again.

The lady barely made a ripple on the air as she walked. But her pale hair gleamed in the moonlight, as did the tears.

"Lady Gwen, out looking for the love she lost." Pity stirred in his heart when he saw the tears glittering on her cheeks.

"As he does. I saw him again today. I spoke with him."

"You're becoming right chummy with faeries, Jude Frances."

She felt the wind on her face, could smell the sea. Aidan's arm was strong and warm around her. Yet it seemed like an illusion that would vanish the moment she blinked. "I keep thinking I'll wake up in my own bed in Chicago, and this, all of this, would have been some long, complex dream. I think it would break my heart."

"Then your heart's safe." He bent his head to kiss her. "This is no dream, and you've my word on it."

"It must hurt her to see lovers here." She looked back. The lady's gilded hair was flying, and her cheeks were wet. "They don't have even that instant at dawn or sunset to reach out."

"A single choice can build destinies, or destroy them."

When she looked up at him, startled to hear him echo Carrick's words to her, he stroked her hair. "Come, let's go back. She makes you sad."

"Yes, she does." Jude clung to Aidan's hand now, for going down was trickier than going up. "I wish I could talk to her, and I can't believe I'm casually saying I wish I could talk to a ghost. But I do. I'd like to ask her what she feels and thinks and wishes, and what she would change."

"Her tears tell me she would change everything."

"No, women cry for all manner of reasons. To change everything, she'd have to give up the children she'd carried inside her, raised and loved. I don't think she could do that. Would do that. Carrick asked too much of her, and he doesn't understand that. Maybe one day he will, then they'll find each other."

"He only asked what he needed, and would have given all he had."

"You're thinking like a man."

"Well, it's a man I am, so how else would 1 think?"

It made her laugh, that hint of irritated pride in his voice. "Exactly as you do. And because a woman thinks like a woman, it explains why the two species are as often at odds as they are in sync."

"I don't mind being at odds off and on, as it keeps things more interesting. And since I'm thinking like a man right now:.." He swept her up into his arms and muffled her surprised gasp with his mouth.

How could a kiss be gentle and searing at the same time? she wondered. So gentle it had tears swimming to her eyes, so hot it liquefied the bones. She let herself slide into it, a warm pool with flames licking at the edges.

"Do you want me, Jude? Tell me you want me."

"Yes, I want you. I always want you." She was already neck-deep in that pool, and slipping under.

"Make love with me here." He chewed restlessly on her bottom lip. "Here in the moonlight."

"Mmmm." She started to consent, then surfaced with a shot, an incautious diver clawing into the air. "Here? Outside?"

He would have been amused by her reaction, but the seduction he'd begun had circled around to claim him. "Here, on the grass, with the night breathing around us."

Still holding her, he knelt. And with his mouth roaming her face, murmured to her, "Give yourself to me."

"But what if someone comes by?"

"There's no one but us, in the whole world, no one else." His hands moved over her, and his mouth. Even as she opened her own to protest, he spoke again. "I've such a need for you. Let me show you. Let me have you."

The grass was so soft, and he was so warm. To be needed was such a miracle, so much more important than sense and modesty. There was a tenderness in his hands as he stroked her, slowly, slowly, heating her blood. His mouth brushed over hers, whispering of promises.

And suddenly there was no one else in the world, and no need for there to be.

Lazily, she lifted her arms as he drew off her sweater, when he trailed his fingertips down her body, her eyes grew heavy, her body slumberous. He slipped off her shoes, her slacks, undressing her without hurry and letting his hands touch and linger where they liked until it seemed her skin hummed.

She lay naked in the grass, moonlight sprinkling over her. When she reached for him, he drew her up.

"I want to unbind your hair, to watch it tumble down." He kept his eyes on hers as he freed it. "Do you remember the first time?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Now I know what pleases you." He pressed his lips to her shoulder, then let her hair riot down to curtain his face and smother him with silk and scent. "Lie back on the grass and let me pleasure you." His teeth scraped lightly down the side of her neck as he lowered her again. "I'll give you all I have."

He could have feasted, but instead he only sipped. Long, luxurious kisses that shuddered into the soul and drew soft moans from it. And at each moan he went deeper.

He could have ravished, but instead he seduced. Slow, tender caresses that slid over the skin and sent it quivering. And at each quiver, he lingered.

She lost herself in him, in the delightfully dizzy mix of senses and sensations. Cool grass and warm flesh, fragrant breezes and husky whispers, strong hands and patient lips.

She watched the moon soar overhead, a gleaming white ball against a deep blue sky, chased by tattered wisps of clouds. She heard the call of an owl, a deep, demanding cry, and felt the echo of it leap into her blood as he urged her up and up to that first rippling crest.

She sang out his name, floating as the high, warm wave cascaded through her.

"Go higher." He was desperate to watch her fly, to know that he could send her up until her eyes were wild and blind and her body quaking. "Go higher," he demanded again, and drove her there more ruthlessly than he'd intended.

Heat flashed into her, a star exploding. The shock of pleasure was so intense, so unexpected after the tenderness, her body reared up, half in protest, half in delight. This time it wasn't a moan that escaped her, but a scream.

"Aidan." She gripped him for balance as her world went mad and they rolled over. "I can't."

"Again." He dragged her head back by the hair and savaged her mouth. "Again, until we're both empty." The hands that had been so gentle dug into her hips, lifted her. "Tell me you want me inside you. Me and no one else."

"Yes." She was frantic, all but weeping as her body bowed back. "You and no one else."

"Then take me."

He drew her down until she was filled with him, until the glory of it burst through her. Her breath tore from his throat as she arched back, her body silvered by the moon light. Her hair rained back in a dark tangle. She lifted her arms, a gesture of abandon, tangling her own fingers in those tumbling curls.

Then her body began to rock, to move, to seek.

The power was hers now, the control of each whip of pleasure. As his body rose and fell to her pace, she let herself take. His muscles trembled as she stroked her hands over him. His eyes seemed dark as the night as she leaned close to torment his mouth as he had hers. The low groan she ripped from him had her laughing in triumph.

"Higher." She braced herself over him. "This time I'll take you higher." Boldly she took his hands, closed them over her breasts. "Touch me. Touch me everywhere while I take you."

She guided his hands where she wanted them, reveling in the feel of them over her slickened skin as she rode him closer and closer to the edge.

She felt his body plunge helplessly under her, heard his breath strangle in a gasp, and thrilled with what she'd done to him, let herself leap after.

It was he who shuddered, he whose hands slid limply away when she lowered to nuzzle her mouth to his. When she pressed her lips to his throat, she felt the wild beat of his pulse.

Then with a sound of triumph, she drew back and threw her arms high. "Oh, God, I feel wonderful! People should always make love outside. It's so- liberating."

"You look like a faerie queen yourself."

"I feel like one." She shook her hair back, then looked down to smile at him. "Full of magic and marvelous secrets. I'm so glad you're not angry with me. I was sure you would be."

"Angry? How could I be?" He gathered enough energy to sit up so he could hold her, torso to torso. "Everything about you delights me."

She snuggled closer, still flying on the pleasure of the moment. "You weren't delighted with me last night."

"No, I can't say I was, but since we've straightened it all out, it's nothing to worry us."

"Straightened it out?"

"Aye. Here, let's get you back into your jumper before you get cold."

"What do you mean-" She broke off as he dragged her sweater over her head.

"There, that's all you'll need, as I'm going to get it off you again as soon as we get inside." He began to gather clothes and bundle them into her arms.

"Aidan, what do you mean we've straightened it all out?"

"Just that we have." Smiling easily, he picked her up and carried her toward the cottage. "We'll be married in September."

"What? Wait."

"I am, till September." He nudged open her garden gate.

"We're not getting married in September."

"Oh, we are, yes. Then we'll go off to the places you want to see."

"Aidan, that's not what I meant."

"It was what I meant." He smiled at her again, pleased he'd found just the way to handle the situation. "I don't mind if you need to wiggle around it for a while, darling. Not when we both know it's what's meant."

"Put me down."

"No, not quite yet." He carried her inside and started up the stairs.

"I'm not marrying you in September."

"Well, it's only a few months away, so we won't have long to see who's right in the matter."

"It's insulting, and it's infuriating that you simply assume I'll fall in line with your plans. And that I'm too stupid to know what I want for myself."

"I don't think you're stupid at all." He walked down to the bathroom. "Fact is, darling, I believe you're one of the smartest people I know. A bit stubborn is all, but I don't mind that." He hitched her up a bit, so he could reach out and turn on the shower.

"You don't mind that," she repeated.

"Not at all. Just as I don't mind having your eyes shoot darts at me as they are at the moment. I find it- stimulating."

"Put me down, Aidan."

"All right." He obliged by setting her in the tub, right under the stream from the shower.

"Damn it!"

"Don't worry about the jumper, I'll take care of it." And laughing while she shoved and wiggled, he stripped it off and tossed it with a wet plop onto the floor.

"Keep your hands off me. I want to settle this."

"You've settled it in your mind just as I have in mine. I say I want my way more than you want what you're thinking is yours. But-" He brushed the wet hair out of her face. "If you're so sure of yourself, you've nothing to worry about, and we can just enjoy the time we spend together."

"That isn't the point-"

"Are you saying you don't enjoy being with me?"

"Yes, of course I do, but-"

"Or that you don't know your own mind?"

"I certainly know my own mind."

He pressed still curved lips to her brow, her temples.

"Well then, what's wrong with giving me at least the chance to change it?"

"I don't know." But there had to be something wrong with it. Didn't there? Reason, she decided. Cool reason. Even if she was standing naked in the shower. "We're not talking about a whim here, Aidan. I take all of this very seriously, and I don't intend to change my mind."

"All right, then, in the fine Irish tradition, we'll wager on it. A hundred pounds says you will."

"I'm not betting on such a thing."

He lifted a shoulder carelessly, then picked up the soap. "If you're afraid to risk your money-"

"I'm not." She hissed out at him, trying to see exactly where he'd turned things around and trapped her. "Make it two hundred pounds."

"Done." He kissed the tip of her nose to seal it.