“Her soul will belong to us, Cian MacCorban. In a matter of hours. And there’s naught you can do about it.”
The remaining hours slid away and the skies opened up a rainstorm that quickly turned the ring fort into mud. Mary struggled to cook the fish Cian had caught earlier, but was afraid she’d made a watery mess of them in the sputtering outdoor fire.
In the end, he brought some of the heated rocks inside the hut and finished cooking the fillets on the hot stones. While they waited for the food to finish, he offered a handful of blackberries he’d found.
“It’s early for them, but you said they were your favourite.”
She smiled and ate the blackberries, but when Cian joined her, he spat one out. “These are the worst things I’ve ever tasted.”
“Oh, they’re not that bad.” They were, but it was the thought that counted.
He pushed the bowl away. “I saw Kevan near the forest, when I was picking the berries. He told me more about your curse.”
Her face reddened, and she found an excuse to stare at her hands. Couldn’t a woman keep any secrets to herself? “What did he tell you?”
“That if we fell in love, you would live.”
She drew her knees up to her chest, not meeting his gaze. “We met yesterday, Cian. People don’t fall in love that fast. It was never worth trying.”
“Not even to save your life?”
She bit her lip to keep back the tears. Did he think she could simply turn feelings on or off with an imaginary switch? She’d done everything she could to make Garrett love her, and nothing had worked. In fact, the harder she’d tried, the more he’d disliked her. And she didn’t want Cian to feel that way.
“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” she said quietly.
He reached out to her hands and pulled her to stand before him. His posture was stiff, and she sensed she was crushing his pride. “Is it . . . that you could never love a man like me?”
“Cian, you don’t understand. We come from two different worlds. You’re handsome and kind, but we have nothing in common. I didn’t tell you the entire truth about me.” She took a deep breath, knowing he needed to understand everything. “The reality is, I’m not like you. I’m from the twenty-first century.”
The confession hung between them like weighted stones. “When I entered that fairy circle, I died in my own century,” Mary continued. “The Daoine Sídhe sent me back in time here, for three days.” The bottled-up feelings seemed to overflow and she stared down at the ground. “The reason I know I’m going to die is because I’m already dead. And love can’t stop that, no matter what Kevan told you.”
He was staring at her, not speaking. No doubt he thought she was insane.And, here we go with burning a witch at the stake. Nice job, Mary.
“I don’t know what to believe any more,” he said. “You’re doing everything you can to keep me away.”
“I don’t want you to be hurt when I’m gone.”
He stroked the side of her face, which was now wet with tears. She didn’t even realize she’d started crying. “Time cannot change what’s here.” He laid her hand upon his heart. “But if you won’t even try to love me in return . . .” His voice drifted off.
She couldn’t answer. The fear of her own death loomed closer. Only hours were left and she couldn’t believe that something as simple as love would have power to conquer eternity in the grave.
“I have feelings for you, Cian,” she admitted. “But I don’t believe that anyone could fall in love in this short a time. I believe that you may care for me, but you don’t love me.”
“Let me try,a stór.Let me show you what I feel.”
He laid her down upon the pallet of furs, then kissed her deeply. The touch of his mouth was gentle, trying to soothe away her raw nerves. Mary tried to relax, but his unfamiliar touch kindled up a heat that she couldn’t control. He loosened the ties of the tunic, waiting for permission to slide it away.
There was every opportunity to say no. But in his eyes, she saw a hunger, a need to show her what he felt. And though she didn’t believe he could possibly love her, she didn’t stop him from removing the layers of clothing between them. For tonight, she would reach out for something she wanted.
Cian’s body was honed, tightly muscled from years of fighting. She smiled as she traced his warm skin, over his back and down to his tight hips. He trapped her wrists, leaning down upon her, and kissed her. His mouth was demanding, fighting for her response. And when she met his tongue with her own, he filled his palms with her breasts.
He touched her and murmured, “I would die in your place if I could, Mary.” Then he lowered his mouth to her breast, teasing her. She grabbed his hair, arching her back as he kissed her stomach and thighs.
“You’re the woman I’ve dreamed of my entire life, Mary Samson.” She guided him inside her. “Whether or not you love me in return, I am yours. Now and always.” Tenderly, he made love to her, his mouth teasing at her breasts while he joined their bodies together.
“Cian,” she whispered, urging him faster. He raised her hips up, her legs locking around his waist. And once he quickened the pace, his body rocking against hers, she felt herself uncoiling, her body straining for release.
Again and again, he drove himself inside her, his body growing harder with each stroke. The dizzying climax swept over her, and she gripped him hard.
