Chapter 21
Her long, silky hair streaked with shades of gold and deep umber shone in the firelight like fine whisky swirling in crystal.
Taggart swallowed a groan, his fingers itching to run deep into those silken tresses as he lowered her to the bed.
The wrap she wore as she sat reading clung to the swell of her breasts and traced the path his hands and mouth longed to enjoy. He hungered for her.
She had bathed in scented water and perfumed herself with oils.
He drew another deep breath and shuddered.
The lilies, the same scent she had worn the first night they had joined.
She said she had forgiven him. Wanted to be with him as much as he wanted her.
But they had yet to lie together again. Holy blazes, he needed her.
However, first things first. He would give her the gift he had fashioned from his own birth shell that Mother had hidden away in the depths of the caverns. Then they would make love and plan the date of their official joining. Then make love some more.
“Hannah.”
She lifted her head, her eyes reflecting the same need. Her wrap barely closed at the waist; she set aside the book and back into the pillows. With a fluttering of her fingers, she invited him to join her. “I have been waiting for you.”
He lowered himself beside her on the couch. Her book slid to the floor. As he reached to touch the soft curve of her cheek, he whispered, “I feared I had lost ye again.”
Her full lips tightened in a hard line, filling his heart with worry. But then she smiled, whisking it away. “I was a little worried there, too. But we are together now. That is all that really matters. It just took me a little while to realize it.”
“I am sorry, Hannah.” He leaned closer, sliding his fingers along her jaw and combing them deeper into her hair. “I am so verra sorry I destroyed the way back to your world.”
She stared up at him. Love and tenderness filled her eyes. “All that matters is that I am here with you.”
“Ye mean that, aye? With all your heart? I know it may not seem that way, but I dinna wish to make ye unhappy.” He searched her face, holding his breath in case she had changed her mind.
“I promise with all my heart.”
He brushed his lips across hers with the gentleness of touching the petals of a delicate rose. “I have a gift for ye,” he said in a rasping whisper as he fastened a gold chain around her neck. “I made this for ye. A wee token of what ye mean to me.”
She looked down and gasped. The golden chain held a carved locket that reflected every color in the spectrum. He had created the oval locket with a frame and lining of gold that reinforced the polished shell, as iridescent as abalone.
“Open it.” The joy in her expression thrilled him.
She undid the intricate clasp and caught her breath again as soon as she opened it. With his magic, he had burnished her image into one side and his into the other.
“It is so beautiful,” she whispered. Her mouth fell open as the images came to life and joined in a kiss. “How?” She lifted her eyes to his as the images separated and went still once again.
He cupped her hands between his and helped her gently close the locket. “I canna reveal all my secrets, my love. Ye have a lifetime to ferret them out. Is it to your liking?”
“It is wondrous.” She snuggled closer, smoothing her hands up his chest then wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Aye, now that is more like it.” He settled into the long-awaited kiss. By Merlin’s beard, how could she taste even better than before? With a groan, he slid her wrap off her shoulders.
“Ouch!”
A jolting shock zapped the palms of his hands. Blue sparks crackled and popped between them.
“What the devil was that?” She rubbed her shoulders, glaring at him as though he just slapped her.
He rubbed his stinging fingertips as though he’d just touched a red-hot brand. “I dinna ken. Not that cold in here. I would nay have thought to create that much static electricity by walking across a marble floor.” He rubbed his fingertips together again. She had stung him like an electrical grid.
“That was a lot more than any static electric jolt I’ve ever gotten.” She twisted to eye the red marks on her shoulders.
In the hopes of resurrecting the moment, he pulled her close. “Allow me to kiss away the sting, m’love. I shall make it all better.”
As soon as his lips met her skin, the fiery sparks returned, knocking him backward. He rubbed his burning mouth. “Holy Hades!”
“That’s it. You stay at that end of the couch.” She pointed at the farthest pile of pillows while tightening her wrap around her throat.
“Mother!” he bellowed. “Show yerself. I know this has to be yer doing.”
Glittering dust showered down from the crystal ceiling and formed a curtain with the image of the Goddess Isla’s face. “Did you call, my son?”
“Ye know damn good and well I called, Mother. What spell have ye cast so that I canna even touch my mate?”
“There will be no more pleasuring of one another until after the joining ceremony. We do not consider it proper.” Isla gave them both a withering look that dared them to argue.
“I am over seven hundred years old. I have already marked her as my mate and it is not as if this is the first time we have enjoyed the pleasures of being in each other’s arms.” He risked a glance at Hannah and couldn’t decide if her face was red because she was embarrassed or about to burst with laughter.
“Ye are nay being reasonable!” And Septamus wondered why he hadn’t returned home in over three hundred years? Septamus never had a mother like this.
“This is not negotiable, Taggart. You will not know the rapture of Hannah again until after the union is blessed.” The golden curtain rippled and Isla gave a haughty sniff, as though daring her son to challenge the edict further.
“Now, bid your lady love good night so she may return to her reading. Gilda waits in the hall to show you to the new chambers you will use until after the ceremony.”
Unable to restrain an irritated growl, Taggart swiped an arm through the golden curtain and scattered its image. “I canna believe she cast a celibacy spell on us! Of all the controlling, manipulative, scheming—”
“Taggart.” Hannah snorted a giggle while trying to hide it behind her hand. “It won’t be that bad.”
“Won’t be that bad?” He grabbed her to his chest. “Woman, I needed to make love to ye until the first sun crested over the horizon!”
“Take care, my hot-blooded bug zapper. You’re going to get us singed again.” She wriggled out of his grasp, cringing as she backed away.
“The spell will only burn if it senses an attempt to go too far. It allows minimal physical contact.”
Mother had overstepped entirely too far this time. As soon as they freed Erastaed from Sloan, he would make sure it was another three hundred years before she laid eyes on his hybrid arse again. Which reminded him. He needed to speak to Esme about blessing Hannah with immortality.
“By the way,” he said, striving for a nonchalant tone.
“How do ye feel about growing old?” He circled her, pretending to eye her up and down.
She needed to crave immortality. If she didn’t hunger for it, Esme’s blessing would not take hold.
He could not bear the thought of watching Hannah age and die, leaving him to live on without her.
Her eyes narrowed into suspicious green slits. “Well, you certainly veered off to a different subject.” She tightened the belt on her wrap, turning to keep him in sight while he circled her. “Aging doesn’t bother me. Many people never get the opportunity.”
That was not what he wished to hear. She needed to be a vain woman. Terrified of growing old. “Aye, but as a human, yer life is so short. Do ye not feel cheated by the lack of years ye have been given?” Perhaps that was the route to take, not aging, but that she didn’t have as much time as he did.
She stared off into the distance, an intense sadness settling across her. “Not so much cheated. I fear I’ve wasted time because by the time I figured things out, I frittered away my best years.”
“If ye had an endless supply of years, or at least what seemed like an endless supply, then I doubt I would see such remorse right now.” He ignored a stab of guilt, sensing he had stirred painful memories for her. The directness of her gaze threatened to make him squirm.
“What are you getting at?” She scooped her book off the pile of pillows beside the couch.
When she bent, she treated him to an unhindered view of her forbidden breasts. His groin tightened, aching with a lust-filled throb. “I swear, Mother, I will see that ye never lay eyes on your wee grandchildren.”
“What was that?” Hannah frowned as she moved closer.
He shifted his stance to adjust his breeches. “I said Esme has the power to grant ye immortality, so the years of yer life match mine.”
She hugged the leather-bound book to her chest as though it gave her strength. Her toes with the brightly painted nails curled into the plush carpeting as she studied him. “Esme has a spell that would make me live forever?”
He eased a step closer, taking care to keep the anxiousness out of his tone.
Well-chosen words were the order of the day or she would surely bolt.
She had barely nibbled at the bait. “All Draecna females are born with the Fire of Immortality. If Esme so chooses and ye accept, ye can increase yer lifespan by thousands of years.”
She worked her toes deeper into the nap of the rug while biting her lower lip. With the book tucked under chin, she repeated, “Thousands of years?”
He held his breath, forcing himself to remain calm. She needed this. Needed to be with him. Forever. Anything else could not be borne.
A pondering frown puckered her brow as she meandered over to the hearth and stared down into the fire. “What does this Fire of Immortality entail? Besides a longer life, I mean.”