Unable to bear the sense of opening, of unlocking for another moment, she shifted her own mouth until it was under his.
He stilled, and she could feel the wild lurch of his heart. "Fallon, we shouldn't."
"You promised to kiss away all my tears, Ciaran. There are still so many left deep inside me. Here." She gathered up his fingers in her own then pressed them against her heart. The soft mounds of her breasts yielded beneath the gentle pressure of his palms, his long, strong fingers curving along the edge of gossamer fabric that skimmed low, his thumb pillowed on velvety skin.
"Fallon," he said hoarsely, "this isn't real. No matter how much we might wish that it was. We shouldn't."
"What isn't real? My tears are. And your loneliness. And the vows we spoke today before Father Gerrard. With my body I thee worship. Such beautiful words. And just a moment ago you said you wanted..." She nibbled at her bottom lip, heat spilling into her cheeks. "But maybe... maybe you don't want me. I know I'm not beautiful. And you must be used to fairy maidens, so bewitching they can steal a man's soul."
"No fairy maid could weave the kind of magic you've spun. Ever since I saw you, there in that ridiculous castle, parting the veil of mist like some lady spun out of moonlight, offering me her hand, to lead me... where, Fallon? Where are you taking me? Into some beautiful realm of illusion? One so strange and wondrous I'll never want to leave? But they're your dreams, Fallon. Your legends. Your magic. They can never belong to me."
"But tonight can. Our wedding night. No matter what else comes after."
He thrust her away from him, his features filled with longing. "No. No matter how much I want you, we can't be together."
"How can you be certain? Maybe I'm wrong. You're just a man, alone." She didn't believe it, but she didn't care. She only wanted to erase the resolve that was darkening his eyes, hardening that mouth that had been so tender against her own.
Ciaran frowned. "I just know I can't stay with you. Those fragments of images, those emotions, those shadows—the feeling was so strong in me. No matter how much I wanted, it was impossible."
"I never even dreamed of marriage, of someone to hold me, to kiss me, to take me to his bed and love away the loneliness. You think I'm a dreamer, with my head in the clouds, and yet, I looked out over my life and I knew no love would ever find me."
"Why would you think such a thing? You're brave and generous. And beautiful. Not in the common way—all rosy perfection, like some goddess carved in marble. You're far too warm, too much of earth and sea and wind and wildness, to be contained in the boundaries that short-sighted men draw around the word 'beautiful'. Some day, a man will come who deserves you, Fallon. Who sees what I see. The strength, the power in you, the tiny flaws that make you like no other. Your face—the way it changes like the sky above the sea. And the way your spirit calls out."
"What does it say?"
"Believe. If you dare. But I'm afraid I don't have that kind of courage."
"Maybe I believe enough for both of us right now. In all the legends I've ever read, one thing is the same. Fate spins out, like a ribbon of silk, linking everything together—every fear, every challenge, every quest and reward. Destiny. Ciaran, isn't it possible that I was meant to find you on the cliffs? That we were meant to wed? And that tonight—just for tonight—we've been given a chance not to be alone?"
He sucked in a shuddering breath. "If it were only that simple."
"It is. We've even spoken the wedding vows. I'm your wife." And would be forever if they lay together this night. The marriage could never be annulled, wiped away as if it had never existed.
"We'll be wed for only a little while, Fallon. Until this disaster is over. It's not as if you love me. It's a phantom you love—a figment of your imagination, not a man."
"I don't know how to love a man. Teach me."
"I can't," he ground out. "I don't think I've ever..." A flush darkened his cheekbones. He glanced down at where a blue satin bow gathered the neckline of her nightgown at her breasts. "From the moment you kissed me it felt so... unexpected. So new. As if it were the first time."
"It was. My first time, I mean. It made me wish..."
"Wish what?"
She trembled, feeling so wanton, needing him so much she didn't care. "That you would touch me. On my skin. Beneath my nightgown. That you would let me touch you."
He swore, low, his hands knotting into fists. "You already did. When you were bathing me, sliding your hands across my skin. It felt so damned good. I was lost, but when your hands were on my body I didn't care where I'd come from, why I was wandering. That's one of the reasons I had to leave before you awakened. So you would forget all about me."
"Even if I'd never seen you again, I would have remembered forever. Your body is so beautiful, Ciaran. Hard and warm. I couldn't help but see." She reached out, touching his bare chest, running her fingertips along the curves and hollows, where the shadows clung. "But even your body isn't as beautiful as what I saw in your eyes."
He gave a snort of self-disgust. "Confusion? A tangled mess?"
"No. Sadness and courage. Honor and pain. The same loneliness I've felt forever. I never thought I'd find someone who could understand. I never thought I could find anyone at all." Her lips curved, tremulous. "I know I may just be... borrowing you for a little while. But maybe, just maybe, we could make that enough."
"You give so much, Mary Fallon. And you ask so little in return. How can I—"
"Like this." Her fingers went to the ribbon tie, pulled it loose, the fabric opening to reveal the shadowy cleft between her breasts. His gaze burned her, touched her more deeply than fingers ever could. He swallowed hard.
Bewitched. Enchanted, by something more powerful than even the fairy king's cherries. Were there rules against making love to the king's champion? Fallon suddenly wondered. What would the cost be for seducing Ciaran of the Mist? What forfeit would the fairies demand? For in every tale, every legend, every whispered story the crofters told before their peat fires, the fairies were a vengeful, jealous lot who guarded what was their own.
