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His face went white. “Knows what?”
“Do Society’s restrictions end at your family’s doorstep?”
“What do you mean?” Confusion replaced the alarm, though Ellery still wondered at his reaction.
“They see nothing wrong with you coming and going from my bedchamber,” she said.
“Midnight visits. Leaving us alone together. It’s unusual to say the least.”
He rose and taking her hands in his, led her to the sofa. “Let me tell you a story.” He pulled her down beside him, his body dangerously close. “Once upon a time there was a sea captain. His ship foundered just off the Irish coast. He thought he would drown. But he was saved by a silkie, a fey of the sea whose shape in the water resembles a seal. She brought him to shore, cared for him until he woke. And when he laid eyes on her in her human form, they fell in love.” His expression softened as he recounted the love story. His eyes mellowed to a golden-brown, shadows flickering at the edges. “She gave him her sealskin and bid him hide it so that they might wed as man and wife. Ten years and four children later, he offered it back to her, worried she pined for the sea. Do you know what she did? She burned it. Gave up her life as faery and became Mortal.”
“Your grandmother and grandfather.”
“Just so. My family believes in love, not rules. And they believe when the moment happens, it can’t be hindered by the boundaries of Society or even reality. After all, what’s one man’s reality is another man’s fantasy.”
“So they throw every woman at your head expecting the lightning to strike?”
He laughed. “No. You’re the first.”
“Should I be flattered?”
His smile faded. “They hope you’ll save me from myself.” She cocked her head, an eyebrow raised. “Do you need saving? You seem to be doing all right without my help.”
The shadows that until now had hovered at the edges of his gaze, took over. His expression grew serious. Sorrowful. “I thought so. Now I’m not so sure.”
She risked a hand on his arm, enjoying the warmth of his body through the cotton of his sleeve. He caressed her cheek then jerked away, coming to his feet. Her disappointment must have showed on her face. He tucked a curl behind her ear. Gave her an odd little quirky smile. “I’m not sorry about what happened between us, Ellery. Only sorry I can’t make it perfect for you. You deserve so much more.”
“What if I don’t want perfect? What if I just want you?”
“Ouch.” He laughed, but this time it was a sad, bitter laugh.
“You’ll change your mind soon or late. Ask Morgan. Ask Ruan. I’m no knight in shining armor.” He cupped her chin. Drew her close. “I’m the wolf howling at your door.”
A flood of heat began in her belly. Spread outward in a dizzying throbbing beat. “No need to howl,” she said, closing her eyes to let the wash of sensations rush through her. “You have a key.”
Despite the spreading shadows of evening, Conor’s stride never faltered as he crossed the park. Headed west toward the barrows. He’d played and hunted and worked and explored every inch of Daggerfell’s acres. And he knew every tenant, every farmhand, every inhabitant that made his home within its borders.
Except for those who lived beneath the hills. Those he was less sure of. But no less determined to see.
He wasn’t sure the true fey would show. They were fickle and cunning. If it amused them to help him, they would. But it was by no means a sure thing despite the danger Asher posed to their world as well as his.
He didn’t stop at the first barrow, but continued on until he stood surrounded by the mounds, the long grass whispering, bent low across the hills. The magic here sang through him, mingled with his own until the power ran back and forth between him and the ground in a constant exchange. He centered his gaze on the side of the nearest mound and waited.
The idea for this had struck him last night as he lay with Ellery asleep in his arms, the moon silvering her hair, washing her in pale light. Desperation had made it seem possible then. Standing here amid the silence, he wasn’t as sure.
Swallows dipped and soared homeward as the day faded into a gray twilight. And still he stood. Quiet. Waiting. His heart and mind sending out an entreaty through the curtain between worlds. His eyes burned with watching, his muscles strained with standing for so long unmoving, but he wouldn’t leave. Not
until he had the answers he sought.
The last light faded into darkness, and the first star appeared. And just as day slid into night, a voice answered his call. The fey would come.
The side of the hill didn’t open so much as shimmer like windswept water, the fey emerging from the gold and silver ripples. Used to the flash and drama that marked most of their entrances, Conor just rolled his eyes and bit his tongue. He’d give his right arm to witness one of the faery folk walking up, tapping him on the shoulder and introducing himself. It would make life so much easier.
The two males stood to either side of a female who sat astride a milk-white pony. The men were tall and slender, their hair hanging loose about their shoulders, their faces impassive. But the woman, her white-blonde beauty almost painful to look upon, gave him the devilish grin he’d last seen on the Isle of Skye a year ago. Aeval.
“You called us, amhas-draoi?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but echoed in his mind like a shout.
“They sent you to speak with me?” He tried not to let his disappointment color his voice. Aeval’s capricious nature and contempt for the Mortal world were well known.
