Small hands came down on his shoulders. She straddled his form. The proof that he was indeed able—and aye, quite willing—was caught snug between her slender white thighs.
She squeezed them ever so slightly, shaped them around his breadth and length. An erotic caress, it stole his breath.
Strong hands molded her hips. “My lady pirate has returned, I see.” A shift, and he slid deep inside. His eyes began to smolder. “This pirate has missed her.”
Oh, aye, she had returned, his pirate seductress from Ireland. Her hair was all around them, a silken black curtain, teasing his chest, his belly.
It was indescribable. She tempted him, seduced him, possessed him body and soul, until he was on fire. Their lovemaking was wanton and wild, shatteringly intense. A ragged groan tore from Alec’s chest. He erupted inside her again and again, while the night shimmered and the Circle glowed.
And when it was over, he dragged her against him and held her tight, his beloved lady pirate. He captured her, bringing her fast against his side, reluctant to release her. Long into the night he held her, until exhaustion claimed him and he slept.
And in the morning when he woke…
She was gone.
On the pillow was a note…and the family wedding ring he’d placed on her finger. Disbelieving, his jaw tight, Alec read:
Dear Scotsman,
I am forever in your debt. I hope that you will forgive my intrusion into your life, just as I hope you willunderstand why it was of such importance. I wish you well in life’s journey, Scotsman, and pray you will do the same of me.
Most sincerely,
Maura
He was steaming when he bolted into the carriage house. Maura, he discovered, had requested a coach and driver at dawn. He had a very good idea where the chit had gone—to Stranraer, to take a ship back to Ireland. And bloody hell, she was a good three hours ahead of him.
If he was lucky, he’d catch her before she boarded.
Unfortunately, it seemed luck was not on his side. On the way to Stranraer his horse lost a shoe and he was forced to stop at a ferrier. To make matters worse, the skies opened up and he was soaked to the bone by the time he arrived at the port.
Someone hailed him then. Turning, he saw Thomas Gates.
Alec ducked under the eaves of a building.
“What luck!” Thomas said. “I was just on my way to see you, your grace! I’ve just returned from Ireland with news of your wife.” Before Alec could stop him, he continued, “She is certainly who she says she is. I visited her home and prowled about the McDonough lands, and spoke with a few of the tenants. I confess, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The lands are quite—”
“Barren?” Alec supplied.
“Aye!” said Thomas. “And the tenants I spoke with said it was because of a curse, and an ancient relic—”
“The Circle of Light.”
The older man eyed him. “You certainly don’t seem to have needed my services.”
Alec smiled grimly. “Let’s just say my wife decided to enlighten me. And, if you don’t mind, Thomas, may I settle your fee when I return? Odd as it may seem, I’m hoping to catch the next ship to Ireland to fetch my wife.”
Thomas shook his head. “You may have a wee bit of a wait, then. I overheard someone say the last boat just departed, and it’s expected none will be bound for Ireland for at least the next two days.” He gestured heavenward. “It’s a devil of a storm that’s blown in.”
Alec cursed, long and loud, so loud it might surely have been heard across the sea in Ireland.
Indeed, he hoped it was.
It was home.
Home, on the very tip of the peninsula, in this place where the wind met sea and sky, and the sky the earth, where the Circle of Light floated on an altar of stone—floated with a power of its own.
All who came out stared in wonder at the shimmering light that glowed in the church of St. Patrick, lighting the night. They exclaimed in joy and wonder, and called it a miracle.
