Page 52 of A Celtic Secret
“Technically, you didn’t the first time.” Her eyes drifted. She leaned her cheek into his touch. “But I know what you mean, and I feel the same.”
His heart soared at that. At the confirmation he wouldn’t lose her. At least not of her own devices.
“No, you won’t lose me,” she murmured. “Not unless it’s taken out of our hands.”
He could only pray it wasn’t because it seemed so much was determined to take her away from him again.
Rather than dwell on it, he focused on the present. The fresh desire shimmering in her eyes. The untouchable feeling of her hot tight sheath. This go around when he kissed her, he took his time. Cherished the feel of her limbs sliding along his as he rolled her beneath him and began moving.
Time seemed to slip away as they lost themselves to pleasure. As they learned each other’s bodies. Sometimes he took her hard, sometimes softly, sometimes not at all as he sampled each and every part of her. From her full breasts to the gentle curve of her belly to the sweet juices betwixt her thighs. He couldn’t get enough of her throaty groans. Taste enough of her when he brought her to peak. He was addicted to the way she looked when she found her pleasure. How she arched and cried out sometimes, where other times, she couldn't make sounds because her body shook too hard.
Eventually, the passion became too much and his need too great, so he filled her again. Rode her until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Until his ballocks tightened, he pressed deep, jerked against her, and shuddered with the sheer force of letting go.
“Oh,God,” she groaned, seizing up before her body shook and her sheath clamped down hard. She released another long choppy groan and started milking him.
He held himself there for a time, cherishing the sensation before he rolled off her and pulled her against his side. Her eyes were closed, and she wore a dreamy smile as she cozied against him.
At least she did until she opened her eyes to look at him and abruptly sat up.
“That’s it,” she exclaimed, her gaze wide on the door to his chamber.Theirchamber. “That’sthem.”
“What’s them?” He enjoyed the sight of her nude backside when she leapt out of bed and strode to his chamber door. “This is the door from my dream where I’m wearing my blue dress.” She held out her hand tentatively before she touched one of the handles. “And these are the handles.”
When he realized she meant to open the door, he grabbed a blanket, flew after her, and wrapped it around her. Good thing because she flung the door open seconds later, stepped out into the hallway, and spun back, her eyes wider by the moment.
“Liam was right.” She marveled at the handles, shocked that she could touch them. “Theydolead to your chamber.”
“What dream do you speak of?” And why did Liam know about it and not him?
“The one I’ve had again and again over the years.” Her eyes welled as her hand rested on a handle. “I’m always trying to go through these doors, but I never can. I can never reach them. And it’s a horrible feeling. A sad one. Like I’m trying to get to something on the other side, but I can’t.” Her eyes flashed blue. “And I’m certain now that it’s you.” She frowned in confusion. “Or at least it has something to do with you.” She opened the other door and stepped back into the room. “That I have to let you go to save you. That I....”
She trailed off when her eyes locked on the huge tapestry across from her that took up one whole wall of his chamber.
“That’s it,” she whispered, drifting to the image of a magical oak tree. “That’s the tree in your courtyard.” Her gaze caressed its sparkling leaves and knotted trunk. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. How Madison didn’t.” A tear rolled down her cheek when she looked from it to him. “Don’t you recognize it?”
He shook his head. “It doesn't look like the tree in the courtyard to my eyes.” He had spent many hours admiring this tapestry. Marveling at it. Wondering why she had wanted it here. “I can only be grateful I see what you see now. But then ‘twas you who told me what it should look like. Where it should be hung.”
“Did I then?” She touched the delicate shimmering stitching gingerly. “Such a revered tree as King’s Heart here?” She shook her head. “But why?”
He looked from the image to her in confusion. “Is that not the tree in my courtyard?”
“It is.” A warm smile curled her lips when she looked at him. “That tree,” she gestured at the tapestry, “and this tree are King’s Heart when it was much, much younger. When it stood in ancient Ireland. In the Ireland in which we first came together centuries and centuries ago.” She traced her fingers along the trunk and crouched, startled. “Look atthat.”
He crouched beside her. “What?”
“I’m not sure how I didn’t see this outside.” She traced the bottom of the tree. “This is the stump, Declán.” She glanced from him back to it in shock. “I pulled my blade out from behind the stump of a much younger King’s Heart.”
“Which means it would have been cut down.”
“Yet it stands today not just in your courtyard but on the border of Cian's and Raghnall’s lands.” She was about to say more but grew silent and cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered and stood. “It sounds like soft crying...like a woman crying.” Her gaze shined blue, and she threaded her fingers with his as she touched the tree. Sadness filled her eyes. “Can you hear it now?Feelit?”
“I can,” he murmured, sensing the heartache when he stood as well. “And I can see it.” He peered into the picture. “See her...them.”
A transparent woman sat against the tree sobbing quietly as though trying to keep her misery secret. Unseen. But others saw. More animals than he could count melted out of the background but kept their distance. Gave her respect. Privacy. Yet comfort all the while.
