Page 62 of Her Irish Treasures
He cupped my cheek and pressed a cup to my lips. “Drink, love. This will help.”
My brain shrilled something about never eating or drinking anything in Faerie, but it was too late. I’d already swallowed a mouthful of the sweet, cool liquid, and suddenly, my body demanded more. All of it. As if I would crumple into dust if I didn’t drink the entire pitcher. With every swallow, my body felt heavier. I couldn’t hold up my head. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I must have slept, though I had no sense of elapsed time. Only the steady drum beneath my ear and Warwick’s fresh, bright scent of green. His hands smoothing my hair. His lips against my forehead. His voice flowing over me, though I couldn’t make sense of the words. It almost sounded like singing. A whole orchestra, notes rising and falling around us like birds on the wind. All the colors humming with vivid, pure notes, with a clear, high tenor rising over the top. His voice. Singing about…
I couldn’t quite understand. But it felt like… love.
I opened my eyes and his lips quirked. “There you are. Feel better?”
“What happened?”
“The Queen of Faerie has that effect on mortals. Just being in her presence can make you lose track of everything you ever knew or thought. On the bright side, that gave the nectar time to heal your leg.”
I looked down at my very normal-sized foot, no longer black and blue and puffed like a balloon. “Wow. I feel like I’m going to show up back on earth and a hundred years will have passed.”
He smiled but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Aye, it’s possible to get lost in Faerie.”
I reached up and twirled a lock of his dark hair around my finger. “I can see why.”
“Would it be such a terrible fate to be lost with me?”
“Not at all.” I lay my head back on his chest, turning my face against his throat. “Not if you’re here.”
“The never-ending temptation.” He sighed against my temple. “Though you would never be complete without the treasures. I can’t do that to you, even for an eternity of bliss, just you and I.”
“Is that why the guys were worried about me coming here?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Indeed. Many a mortal has stepped into Faerie and refused to go back, and for much less than such a magnificent catch.”
I laughed too, though my chest felt tight and I wanted to cry. “Especially with a changeling laying traps for me and those nasty creatures. Having Greenshanks all to myself sounds like paradise for sure.”
“Now, love, even Aidan isn’t nasty.”
Grateful for his teasing—when he could have made me feel miserable—I play-growled and fisted my hand in his hair. Not to hurt him.
But to never let him go.
“Aye, love, never.” He kissed my temple. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you back. Though I want to show you something first.”
I lifted my head, still clutching his hair. “What?”
He stood, pulling me up to my feet with him. I held on to him, testing my injured leg, but it wasn’t sore at all. “Wow.”
With a snap of his fingers, my shoes and socks were back on my feet, my jeans dry and clean, and all the dried, caked-on mud disappeared. He tucked my hand around his arm and led me toward a stone wall covered with lush ivy. “I’d love to give you the complete tour, but I’m afraid the treasures be pounding on the door atShamrocked, demanding entrance.”
My eyes flared with surprise. “Really? Why would they go there?”
Warwick waved his hand and the ivy parted like a curtain, revealing a darkened hallway. The scent of rich, black loam filled my nose. Rather than stone or wood, the walls looked like a hand-carved tunnel with bits of roots and rocks caught in the dirt. “They can’t access the portal, so they came to the next best thing. And, of course, they suspect that I’m a villainous traitor in your abduction.”
I refused to ask. I knew his heart. Everything would make sense when we all sat down to discuss what had happened.
“This is the safest place in all of Summer Isle, perhaps even all of Faerie.” We paused in what felt to be a spacious room or cavern, though it was still too dark for me to see the ceiling. “No one knows I have this, even Her Majesty. I keep it in the dark as much as possible, though I can’t help but come and stare at it every chance I get.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. Some kind of animal that only lived in the dark? A bat? He lifted his palm and light slowly brightened around his hand, illuminating an easel holding a canvas. It wasn’t large, perhaps sixteen by twenty. Most of the canvas was dark with shadow, but in the center, a bright doorway gleamed with opalescent light that spilled over a girl, standing in the center. She wore a bright green coat. Not quite lime, but brighter than Warwick’s emerald.
A silhouette stood behind the girl, dark against the pearly light streaming through the door. The shadowed shape of clothing was feminine, as if the person wore a floor-length formal gown.
“I love the light treatment.” I leaned closer, trying to make out details of the girl, but she faced the darker, larger woman in the doorway. “Who’s the artist?”
