Taming Tully & Maidensong

Celtic Love Knots Volume 4 by Rusty Wicks

Whiskey Creek Press www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright ©2007 by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

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CELTIC LOVE KNOTS VOLUME 4: MAIDENSONG & TAMING TULLY by Rusty Wicks WHISKEY CREEK PRESS www.whiskeycreekpress.com

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Published by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS Whiskey Creek Press PO Box 51052 Casper, WY 82605-1052 www.whiskeycreekpress.com Copyright © 2007 by Rusty Wicks Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including 4

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photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. ISBN 978-1-59374-957-6 Credits Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston Editor: Debbie Doggett Printed in the United States of America

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WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT CELTIC LOVE KNOTS VOLUME 4 "I loved Celtic Love Knots, Volume 4 by Rusty Wicks. This is a small volume that is big on entertainment and I had too much fun reading it!... "Maidensong is clever, and fun, and I enjoyed every bit of it. Dianne's internal dialogue is wonderful and the reader gets a true glimpse into the mind of this character... "Taming Tully is sharp and witty, with a twist at the end that made me laugh out loud. The premise of this story is enchanting... "Kudos to Ms. Wicks for a perfectly wonderful read!" Marlene Fallen Angels Reviews Rating: 5 Angels WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT CHRISTMAS CANDY ANTHOLOGY "Kudos to Whiskey Creek Press Torrid for putting together a fabulous collection of sexy holiday stories by some super talented authors guaranteed to warm the cold winter nights. Not a single entry disappoints. From sexy vamps, and rugged wilderness guides to aggressive elves and romantic ghosts, there's something here for everyone. Highly recommended." Jennie Enchanted Ramblings 5 Wands "Whiskey Creek Press presents Christmas Candy, an anthology featuring some of the best talent in steamy 6

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romance. Whether it's a naughty little poem, a moody elf, or a spooky vampire seeking release, these stories will please any reader seeking a little Christmas cheer." Ash Arceneaux Rites of Romance Reviews WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT IRISH EYES "Irish Eyes is steamy romp through the culture and history of Ireland. Ms. Wicks writing is hot and descriptive, a wonderful pairing for a story you can curl up with." Mira Paranormal Romance Reviews WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT SUMMER SOLSTICE SCORCHERS ANTHOLOGY "SUMMER SOLSTICE is a fun-filled anthology which readers of various types of paranormal stories will thoroughly enjoy. Each story provides an entertaining plot, fascinating characters, unexpected events, and truly hot sex. Vampires, fortune tellers, ghosts, witches, demons, wizards and elves all come to life within the pages of this book. Every story is vastly different and I found myself eagerly jumping from one story to the next anticipating yet another fascinating tale. SUMMER SOLSTICE gives readers an exciting opportunity to discover new-to-you authors and several different types of paranormal stories which are represented. It's the perfect way to kick back and enjoy the summer heat." Rating: 4.5 blue ribbons Reviewed by Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT 7

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THE MEAD STEED "The Mead Steed by Rusty Wicks is a witty contemporary erotic romance ... This is one of those feel-good stories that makes you remember that everyone isn't perfect. Overcoming differences, building relationships and finding happiness are the themes in The Mead Steed. Rusty Wicks has shown us that everyone deserves to love and be loved, even if that means working hard to find it. I was charmed and entertained by The Mead Steed." Marlen Fallen Angel Reviews "The Mead Steed is a fun fast paced story with quite a few well written steamy scenes. It is an enjoyable read ... Rusty Wicks obviously enjoys writing humorous scenes and does a good job in this story. This story is for you if you can't resist a hot man, irresistible girl and a Moose or two thrown in." Tanya Joyfully Reviewed.com

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Dedication For Junior

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MAIDENSONG by Rusty Wicks Chapter 1 "Interested in Pictish symbols, are you?" The voice startled her. It came from directly behind her and she whirled around so quickly that she became offbalance. Her body tipped and she banged her shoulder into the ten-foot-high pink granite stone she had been examining. "Shit!" Dianne cried as she grabbed her shoulder. Stars danced behind her eyelids as the pain raced through her body. When it subsided she opened her eyes. The owner of the voice was tall and handsome in a rugged sort of way. His hair fell in full ebony curls across his brow and his eyes were a deeper, richer green than the lush grass that they were standing on. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular body and wore the outfit of every hiker in the Scottish highlands: jeans, a woolen sweater and hiking boots. His sweater was a deep loden green that matched his eyes. "Didn't mean to scare you. Are you all right?" He leaned closer to where she stood, rubbing her shoulder, and looked into her eyes with such intensity that she wondered what he was doing. "Do I look all right?" she asked, scowling. "And what are you looking for, anyway?" 10

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He pulled away from her and smiled. When he smiled it was as if the sun dimmed, she was so overwhelmed with the way his features moved on his face. Handsome when you're serious, Lord-have-mercy gorgeous when you're smiling. "I was looking to see whether or not you had a concussion," he answered. "Apparently you do not." "I smacked my shoulder, not my head. And what were you doing, sneaking up on me like that? Did you try to scare me half to death?" He tilted his head and a lock of black silk fell across his eye. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you at all. And I wasn't sneaking up on you, either. I didn't try to conceal myself in any way." "So what, then? What were you doing if you weren't trying to scare the pants off me?" She stopped rubbing her shoulder and stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer. "I was merely trying to meet you, that's all. It's not every day I find a beautiful woman at the Maiden Stone," he said. He surveyed her the same way she had examined him. When his eyes met hers again he grinned. "And I did not say I wasn't open to getting your pants off of you, mind." He waggled his eyebrows rakishly and, coupled with his thick Scottish accent, the effect was hilarious. She threw her head back and laughed out loud, a sound that reverberated through the trees at the edge of the clearing. "Fair enough. Hard way to meet someone," she said. "Ach, I did not say anything about hardness, either," he answered with a grin. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Cabe 11

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Pitts, and you're..." He let his words trail off as he lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head, his intention obvious. What have I got to lose? A handsome man appears out of nowhere in a romantic spot and wants to know my name— how did I get so lucky? So what if he's broken my shoulder first. "Dianne Tomes." She put her hand out to him and when he surrounded it with his big one she felt a distinct jolt. Her nerves tingled and her nipples puckered beneath the thick sweater she wore. And she felt other slippery sensations, too. She rubbed her thighs together as she let his hand go. "Nice to meet you." "The pleasure, fair Dianne, is all mine. So, what are you doing here, in this magical spot? What brings you here?" Cabe leaned against the mammoth stone and crossed his arms. She saw his muscles tense beneath his jeans as he crossed his legs at the ankles. This guy is hot. Who knew Scottish men could be so rugged? But where's his kilt? I'd pay to see his legs! "The Maiden Stone, of course." Dianne ran a hand across the cool granite, touched her fingers to the carved symbols. "I read about it and decided to look for it when I visited Scotland. I'm staying at the Inverurie Inn for a few days, so here I am." She realized she was babbling but felt powerless to stop it. He grinned at her as if he knew it, too. She wondered if he had this effect on every woman he met. I'll bet you drive all the women wild, Cabe. And I'll bet you know that you're doing it, too. 12

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"You'll know, then, the legend of the stone," Cabe said. He looked at the Celtic cross above his head with a serious expression on his face. "You'll know that this stone is the result of a wish that was granted. It's said that any wish uttered here will come true—eventually." "I've heard that," answered Dianne. "This is the spot where a beautiful maiden met a handsome young man, isn't it?" "Aye." "And that handsome man pushed her into making a bargain with him," she said. "Well, I canna say for sure that he pushed her. It's quite likely that she stumbled or fell but yes, a bargain between the two was struck," said Cabe, nodding his head. Dianne leaned against the pink granite. She looked into his green eyes and felt as if she could be sucked into their depths in the blink of an eye. I don't know if I've ever met a man who's had this effect on me. I feel as if you're a magnet and I'm a thumbtack. "The bargain was that he said he could build a road before she could bake a loaf of bread," Dianne said. Being a lessthan-stellar baker herself, she knew she'd never have entered into such a bargain. "Aye." "And the man built the road before she could bake the bread," said Dianne. She looked from the stone to the trees that surrounded them then back to the eyes of the man she'd just met. She saw how easy it was to meet a handsome man 13

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in this clearing, and her heart broke for the poor young maiden. "Aye," Cabe said softly. "And do you know what happened next? Do you ken that, too?" "Aye," said Dianne, intentionally echoing his thick Scottish brogue. "She realized he was the devil in disguise, and prayed that she be turned to stone rather than pay her lost wager. She didn't want to become the devil's bride." "Aye. She made this choice instead," he said, patting the stone with his large hand. "Some bargain, no? To be turned to stone for all eternity?" "Better than being the devil's bride, I'd guess," said Dianne. "Ach! And how bad could the devil have been, I ask you?" Cabe grinned impishly down at her shocked expression. "Really, fair Dianne. How bad could the old sod have been?"

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Chapter 2 "It's nice you're going out for a while," said Mrs. O'Kelley, the inn's proprietress. She was waxing the already shining banisters when Dianne descended the stairs. "And looking right pretty, you are. Have a good time, Dianne. Stay on the road, mind you. You don't want the glaistig to get you." Dianne paused, her hand on the front door latch. She turned to face the old woman. "The glaistig? What's the glaistig?" Mrs. O'Kelley crossed herself three times before she answered. "Ach, you'll know the glaistig when you see it. But by the time you see it, it's already too late. Just stay to the road, and you'll be fine. Trust me." She went back to her polishing, turning her back on Dianne and effectively ending the conversation. **** Cabe was waiting for her when she reached the Inverurie Pub. The pub was crowded and Dianne had to squeeze between filled tables and noisy booths to reach the booth in the back where Cabe sat. He rose when she reached him. "Dianne, I'm glad you found the place." He motioned for her to slide into the booth, waiting until she was settled before he slid in beside her. "Have any trouble finding the pub?" She shook her head, remembering the innkeeper's words. "None. I stayed on the road, like Mrs. O'Kelley suggested." 15

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A pint of dark ale appeared by way of a red-haired waitress. Dianne looked around and saw that everyone had a similar pint on the table in front of them. Apparently it was the only drink in the house. Too funny. I guess there's no sense in asking for a wine spritzer in this place. Or an apple cosmopolitan ... or—heaven forbid!—a margarita. No, I guess it's dark ale or parch. "Mrs. O'Kelley? What did she have to say?" Dianne waved her hand in the air between them as if she was swatting at a fly. "Oh, just to keep to the road if I didn't want the glaistig to get me." She reached for the handle of her heavy mug and felt the chill seep into her fingers. Cabe threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep, hearty sound that made her shiver at its intensity. His green eyes danced as they found hers and she couldn't help but smile back at him. Her heart gave a lurch at the sudden shared intimacy. Oh, Cabe, what are you doing to me? I feel shivery inside, like something's taken hold of me. Is it you? Can I be falling for you so quickly? "Ach, that's rich," Cabe said. He lifted his pint in salute and she raised hers as well. "To old Mrs. O'Kelley, the most superstitious innkeeper this side of Aberdeenshire." The ale was cold and hearty. It slid down her throat easily and filled her with its full-bodied flavor. I could get used to this ale. Very used to it. And the man, too. It wouldn't be hard to become accustomed to looking into those hypnotic green eyes. "Tell me, Cabe. What is the glaistig, anyway?" 16

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He took a long swallow before he spoke. When he did, it was with a voice that barely contained the laughter she suspected was still just beneath the surface. "The glaistig, fair Dianne, is a lonely one, she is. A supernatural being, she spends her time looking for unwary travelers. When she finds them, she lures them," he said matter-of-factly. He finished his ale and signaled for another. "Lures them?" "Aye, she lures them astray. She makes them lost, as it were." He shrugged. "How verra bad can it be to be a bit lost, I ask? Not so bad as most would have it seem." "And what happens when the unwitting traveler is lured and lost—what then?" Cabe shrugged again and she noticed how big his shoulders looked beneath his sweater. Her nipples tightened as she watched him and she felt a warmth begin deep within her. "Ach, who knows? They wander, I suppose. Wander until they find their way." Dianne looked around the crowded room and wondered how such intelligent people could believe in so many superstitions. It just didn't seem possible. Oh, who am I kidding? My Greek grandmother spits on me every chance she gets, giving me good luck with every shower of spit. And my Italian mother, she's convinced that the gold horn she wears will ward off evil. What about Laura's Spanish aunt, Tia Sofia? I don't even want to remember what she did with that chicken foot. No, I guess a glaistig isn't such a far-fetched idea after all. 17

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"What does she look like, Cabe? So I can be sure to run if I see her." Dianne smiled as she drained her pint. She was surprised at how quickly it disappeared, and at how enjoyable drinking beer had been. She'd never had beer, in any form, before. "Ach, that's easy. You'll run if you see her, I ken. You'll run verra, verra fast, too," he said, grinning. He waited until the waitress had deposited another two full pints on the table before he continued. "She looks like a woman on top, but on the bottom she looks like a goat!"

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Chapter 3 Cabe drove her back to the inn in his shiny black pickup truck. He drove the long way back but still the ride was over too quickly to suit either of them. He parked beneath a spreading chestnut tree and turned off the ignition. For a few moments the only sound was the ticking of the cooling engine. When they spoke, it was at the same instant. "Thanks for the—" "I'm glad you—" They stopped and laughed. Their laughter filled the cab of the truck and any awkwardness between them disappeared. "I'm sorry, Cabe. You go first. What were you going to say?" He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry for interrupting you, fair Dianne. What were you trying to say to me?" She looked up into his face. Somehow they had edged closer on the long, wide seat while they laughed. Now she was very close to him, near enough to smell the spicy scent of his aftershave lotion. "I just wanted to thank you," she said softly. "I had a great time tonight." "Aye, I did as well. I'm glad you consented to come out with me tonight." His voice was seductive and she found herself hanging on his every word. "I mean, with me being a stranger and all. I'm verra glad you felt me trustworthy enough to spend an evening with. Verra glad." "You don't feel like a stranger, Cabe." 19

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"Nor you, lass. I feel verra close to you." "And I to you," she whispered. Dianne watched his face as he lowered it closer and closer to hers. She locked her gaze onto his flashing green eyes, only breaking the connection when his lips touched hers for the first time. His touch was like magic and she felt herself falling into his arms without hesitation. Their tongues danced the age-old dance of passion, exploring all of the hidden recesses available to them. Then his mouth traced a line from her ear down her neck. Tiny, whisper-light kisses that set her nerves on fire. She felt her nipples grow taut inside her clothes, felt moist heat begin to radiate from her jeans and she pressed her body against his. As she pushed closer to Cabe, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His fingers found their way beneath her sweater. Dianne moaned at the touch of his fingertips on her breast, gasped when he cupped it in one large hand. His touch sent shivers of arousal down her spine. She arched her back to meet his delicious torture. Cabe pressed his hand beneath the lacy edge of her black bra and found her erect nipple. He tugged it gently between his fingertips, rolled it tenderly and sent exquisite shudders throughout her body. Dianne felt as if she had never been touched before, never felt the pulsing quivers of true passion. Dianne dropped a trembling hand to his lap and reached for him. She covered the hard, hot bulge in his tight jeans with her fingertips. His moan, muffled against her neck as he kissed her just above her collarbone, felt like small ripples as 20

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it traveled along her skin. She pressed her hand to his hardon, massaging him through the tight fabric. Cabe shifted slightly, giving her better access to what strained to be released from his pants. Oh, Cabe ... you're so big and hard and I'm so wet with desire. I want you. I want you more than I can say. How shocked would you be if I reached in there and pulled your cock out of your pants? How would that go over in bonnie Scotland? The zipper of his jeans slid down noiselessly. Arching his back to give her access to his erection, he pulled the tab on her zipper down. As she pulled his cock out of his pants he pushed his fingers into her hot, wet folds. They matched each other stroke for stroke, and Dianne pressed against his fingers as she fondled his hard skin. I want it inside me, to fill me and make me come. I want it now. Now. Angling her body on the wide seat, she shimmied out of one leg of her jeans and spread her legs. His body settled over hers and she felt the first fleeting touches as cock brushed her wetness. He didn't hesitate, separating her lips with the tip of his cock and plunging himself into her waiting flesh. The rhythm of their passion was fast and furious and their climax was upon them almost instantly. As Dianne shuddered against his hard flesh she felt the spasms of his release fill her. It felt like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

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Chapter 4 "The Maiden Stone isn't the only monument in the forest?" asked Dianne. "How come I didn't know about that? They don't mention any other stone in any of the guidebooks I've read." They were holding hands as they walked through the forest. The day was cool, but bright, and her knitted sweater kept her warm while Cabe kept her hot. I'd like to toss him down on the grass and ravage him, that's what I'd like to do. Who cares about stones and folktales when I've got a man like Cabe at hand? So hot and hard and handsome. I wouldn't mind forgetting about the stone and just jumping him in the forest. I wonder what he'd say to that? "...not generally known," he said, smiling as he looked at her confused expression. "You weren't listening to a thing I said, were you?" "Not really," she admitted with a grin. "Sorry." He laughed out loud and a mockingbird flew from an oak tree at the edge of the clearing. "At least you're honest, fair Dianne. So what were you thinking about?" Wouldn't you like to know? I'm not telling but I might just show you if we find a secluded enough spot. I just might show you... "Oh, this and that," she said, acting as if her mind had been focused on something trivial. But she suspected he knew the truth just by the amused look on his face. 22

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"Ach, this and that." He leaned down and kissed her, a fast kiss that made Dianne feel as if she had put her tongue against a light socket. Tremors of electricity coursed through her body and she shook her head to clear it. "Are you ready to see the other monument in the forest?" Grinning, she arched one eyebrow. "Are you offering to show me your monument, then?" His laughter came easily. "Not my monument, although that can be arranged. But I'm speaking of the statue of Persephone, right over there. See it?" Following the track of his pointing fingertip, she saw the statue through the trees. It wasn't as large as the Maiden Stone, but it was equally beautiful in a more modern way. Dianne strode to the stone, anxious to feel its silky surface for herself. "Beautiful, isn't she?" she asked, looking up into the serene face. "Yes. Exceedingly." In a voice filled with longing, he said, "She looks like she's been waiting here for a verra long time, don't you think? Waiting ... and hoping ... and wondering if someone—a special someone—would ever come along to free her. To fulfill her destiny, so to speak." Dianne looked into his penetrating eyes and shuddered. There was a need evident in them that pulled her toward him without her being conscious of movement. When she was pressed against his body, she looked up at him. "Are we talking about Persephone now? Or someone else?" Her gaze searched his face, settling on his lips. They were firm and full and she yearned to touch them with her own. 23

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"It could apply to almost anyone, fair Dianne. Don't you think so?" As his mouth covered hers she stopped thinking and gave herself fully to the sensations that coursed through her, rich and vibrant and filled with the promise of more to come. She pressed herself against him, feeling his arousal as he tilted his hips forward. "I want you, fair Dianne. I want you over and over again and forever and ever," he said. The voice was hoarse with longing but the words were distinct. He picked her up in his arms and carried her further into the forest, away from the clearing and the prying eyes of Persephone. Placing her tenderly on a layer of cool green moss, Cabe stretched out beside her. He pulled her to his body and dropped his mouth to hers. Their kisses, fueled by desire, became more demanding. Their hands began to move aside clothing to accommodate their unquenchable need. They were beyond caring who saw them or what anyone thought. All they knew was that they had urges that had to be taken care of. Poking out of his pants like a tree in the forest, Cabe's cock throbbed in the dappled sunlight. The thick shaft was topped by a swollen red cap and it jumped as he watched her push her jeans into a heap beside them. Dianne straddled his hips, giving him a full view of her hot sex before she lowered herself to his body. He slid into her easily and she rode him as surely as if she had been with him a thousand times before. 24

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They matched each other thrust for thrust and as her climax poured over her in long, shuddering spasms she felt the first twitches of Cabe's orgasm. Wetness filled her as he pushed himself deeply inside her, a look of supreme pleasure on his face as he lost control. When it was over they were both grinning.

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Chapter 5 They were in their usual booth at the Inverurie Pub the night before Dianne was scheduled to leave for home. The pints had gotten less enormous looking and she picked up her chilled mug with ease. She took a long drink before setting it back on the table. "You could come to visit me, too. I mean, the States are only a plane ride away," she said. She made damp circles on the tabletop with the bottom of her mug. "I'll come back in a few months and we'll see how that goes but really, you're welcome to visit me any time, too." "Aye, I know that, fair Dianne. And I appreciate it, really I do. But I'm the kind that's best staying put, not wandering too far astray from my own backyard, as it were. I'm sure you'll understand." You've gotten weird, Cabe. Just today, now that I'm getting ready to go home. But I can't stay; you and I haven't got anything other than a bunch of awesome sexual encounters, really. It's not like you've said you love me or anything. No, I've got to go home. Maybe then you'll figure out how you feel. Cabe finished his pint and put his mug on the table with a thump. "Want to go take one last look at the Maiden Stone before you leave tomorrow? She's verra pretty in the moonlight." Grinning, she asked, "But what about the glaistig? Wouldn't do to have her get me on the night before I go home, would it?" 26

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Standing, he reached for her hand. He pulled her to her feet and started across the room, still holding onto her hand. "Ach! You can bet I'll protect you from the glaistig. No worries there." **** Cabe had been right. The Maiden Stone was beautiful by moonlight. She fairly glowed and Dianne found that she couldn't keep her hands from the high granite carving. Her fingertips slid across the surface, into the crevices and over the depressions as if they were attempting to imprint the stone forever in her mind. "Verra beautiful, isn't she?" "Aye," she said, adopting his brogue. "She is at that. So many nights beneath the stars, so many long hours watching the moon." He stepped closer to her and she smelled the woodsy aroma of his body. "So many long, lonely nights," he said softly, running a finger down the side of her neck. "So many endless hours beneath the moon, waiting." "Waiting?" "Aye, waiting. Waiting for the right one to come along, waiting for the lonely times to end. Waiting for someone to share it all with," he said. He kissed her tenderly before speaking again. "Ach, you know that any wish made here at the Maiden Stone will come true—eventually. It may not be straight away, but it will happen." She nodded. "I've heard that." 27

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"Have you made a wish yet? Closed your eyes and wished with all your heart for it to come to pass?" "Not yet, Cabe. I haven't done it yet," she admitted. "Don't you think it's time, then?" Dianne closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. She knew what she was going to wish for, she had known it all along. I wish that Cabe falls in love with me, that he falls for me with the same intensity that I've fallen for him. I wish that we could fall in love and spend forever together. That's my fondest wish. "Done," she said, opening her eyes and looking up at him. "And you, did you wish?" "Aye," he answered, pulling her close to his body. "A verra long time ago." When he crushed his mouth to hers all thoughts were forgotten. The only thing that mattered as they pressed close was the sensations that had turned their bodies into quivering masses searching for release. They pushed aside clothing and uncovered hot, swollen bits of themselves. Their joining beneath the moon, with the Maiden pressed against Dianne's back, was quick and animalistic. Their pleasure came swiftly and they shuddered at the stone's feet in great shaking spasms. When it was over they both knew they would never be the same again.

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Chapter 6 The train out of Inverurie was nearly empty at such an early hour. Dianne was glad she didn't have to make idle small talk or endure ridiculous chatter. She wasn't in the mood to be pleasant. It had only been a few hours since she and Cabe had parted but already there was an emptiness within her, a hollow feeling that she knew only he could fill. Get a grip on yourself. He's only a man. You had a great time in Scotland, you saw lots of interesting things and met loads of nice people. And you got to have a fantastic holiday romance, what more could you want? Stop being such a sap! It's over and that's the end of it. Reaching into her carry-on bag, she felt around for a pen. Her fingers closed over one at the bottom of the bag and she pulled it out, along with a book of crossword puzzles she'd bought for the long train ride. She opened the book to a random page, pressed against the spine to open the book wide, and rested it on the tray table in front of her seat. She doodled on the edge of the paper as she watched the scenery roll by. But there was the wish at the Maiden Stone. I made my wish, so now I just need to wait for it to come true. Then Cabe will love me and we'll be together forever. Who knows? Maybe he already does love me; maybe the wish is already coming true. The doodling became writing. Mrs. Cabe Pitts. Dianne Pitts. Mrs. Dianne Pitts. Mrs. Dianne Tomes-Pitts. 29

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It's ridiculous, I know. How can I feel this way so quickly— I only just met the man a short time ago. Maybe it's love at first sight. All I know is that it feels like some kind of strange spell came over me the moment I met Cabe, the moment I looked into his eyes. I just knew that I was meant to be with him. And he with me. The writing covered the paper as Dianne began to print their names in capital letters, side by side. I hope the wishing thing at the Maiden Stone isn't just another old Scottish tale, like the silly glaistig. Imagine, a woman who's part goat—how can anyone believe that something like that exists? Although I suppose that if I believe that a wish made beside an ancient stone can bring two people together, well, then I suppose it's possible that a goat and a woman could be one and the same ... Hey. What's this? Arranging the letters on the paper brought Dianne a chilling discovery. She stared at the words before her, not daring to consider what they meant. Dianne Tomes. Maiden Stone. Cabe Pitts. Pict Beast. For an instant she thought she might faint. Then she considered vomiting. And finally she gave in to the full-body shaking that began and felt like it would never end. As the train rumbled through the Scottish highlands, she sat, staring, at the words before her. Black and white, light and dark, good and evil. They couldn't be mistaken; they couldn't be interpreted any other way. 30

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Now she knew where her destiny was. And she knew it was no use trying to escape it.

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Chapter 7 His fingers caressed her smooth, silky surface. She excited him and his erection throbbed between his legs, demanding release. Reaching for it with one hand, he touched her as he fondled himself. It didn't take long, a few short strokes and his climax was upon him. He directed the evidence of his lust toward her feet, as he had done so many times in the past. Not bothering to cover himself, he turned to her and embraced her. Smooth and cool beneath his cheek, she made the heat rise within him again. He stiffened as he pulled back and looked up into her never-changing face. "I knew the day would come, fair Maiden. I knew it—and I waited. Finally, I'll get what is rightfully mine. Finally I'll have what is my due." Gazing up into the sky behind her, his laughter filled the air, a full-bodied roar of satisfaction that shook the trees and frightened the birds. When he had laughed until he could laugh no more, he put his hand on his cock and shook it at the statue. "Do you see? I told you that someday you would come to me willingly, caress me lovingly, be mine for eternity. Well, the time has come. I will be alone no more."

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TAMING TULLY by Rusty Wicks Chapter 1 "What are you looking for, Maureen? What is it that's got you in such a state this fine morning?" "My colored pencils ... they've gone missing." Maureen dropped to her knees and looked beneath the chintz sofa, assorted armchairs and knick-knack covered tables in the room. She didn't see the expensive pencils anywhere. Damn. Yesterday it was my red bra, today it's my pencils. What the hell is going on in this place, anyway? How can anyone live where things disappear on a daily basis? Maureen stood up and looked down to where her aunt sat, nestled on the sofa like a kite tethered to a tree. She seemed small and frail, as if a gentle breeze could lift her up and away. But despite the nearly translucent cast to her wrinkled face, Aunt Tess looked better than she had yesterday. And that was the point, wasn't it? The elderly woman had just gotten past a vicious bout with pneumonia. Since there was no one else in the family who could tend her during her recovery ... well, Maureen found herself in Tully before she knew that the family whirlwinds had even convened. 33

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She reached down and tucked a brightly patterned green quilt around her aunt's shoulders. "Have everything you need, Aunt Tess?" When the woman nodded her cap of white curls and smiled up at her, warmth flooded Maureen's heart. She knew that coming to Ireland had been the right decision. After all, putting her life on hold for a month or so wasn't the most terrible thing in the world. It wasn't as if her life had been going that well, anyway. "I do, dear heart. Going for a walk in the glen, are you? That's good, then. Don't forget to take your jacket. It's a stiff wind I'm feeling in my bones." Aunt Tess sipped from the ever-present delicate Beleek teacup before setting it on the table beside her. "You sure you don't need anything?" Maureen's gaze passed over the table holding the tea things. She did a quick mental inventory to see that all of her aunt's needs were spoken for. "No, don't worry a bit about me. I've got my e-reader, you know." The elderly woman held up the small silver device and grinned. "Today I've a Maeve Binchy. What else could I need? Tea and Maeve on an afternoon ... I've got it all." "I won't be too long, then. Love you." Maureen planted a fast kiss on the white curls. "Don't forget the jacket," called Aunt Tess. "And mind the pookas, you hear?" ****

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The walk through the cool, silent forest gave Maureen time to ponder her present situation. The scenery—and serenity— of the place was, unfortunately, wasted on her. "Pookas—ha! Gringochs—ha ha! Hard to believe that a woman as smart as Aunt Tess could be always going on and on and on about fairies and leprechauns and all that other rubbish ... this place just encourages that sort of junk, that's all." Maureen kicked a moss-covered stone out of her path. Striding over the pine needles wasn't as satisfying as crunching over gravel or slapping on cement would have been, but it was working. She felt some of the pent-up hostility leach from her body with each step she took. "Madness, that's what it is. A sort of Irish madness that's got them all in its hold. Believing in myths and fairytales and doing all kinds of silly things," she growled. Then her brow smoothed and she began to giggle. The sound of her laughter bounced off the tall trees that surrounded her. It floated through the air, combining with the rustling leaves to form an impromptu symphony. "Sort of like talking to yourself in the woods. Yeah, that's completely realistic...." The scene that greeted her when she emerged from the forest never failed to take her breath away. Plantation Castle was a ruin, but a beautiful one. On Christmas Eve in 1641 the place had been the site of an invasion. A bloody massacre with the sunrise on Christmas morning followed. Left to crumble into the earth after being rampaged and partially destroyed, the castle had resisted the temptation to buckle and fall. Segments of the original castle 35

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still stood, and they were, perhaps, more impressive than the original structure had been. The roofless ruin was a testament to overcoming and moving forward, even after being devastated. Maybe that's why Maureen felt so drawn to the place. She folded her tall, thin frame to sit on a limestone boulder near the edge of the woods. Opening the sketchbook that was her constant companion, she tucked a long, wispy strand of blonde hair behind one ear. As she began to sketch with a magenta pencil—the only one that hadn't disappeared—she felt a calmness wash over her. Lost in the world of pink-tinted bawns and towering fortresses, her features relaxed. Maureen felt her breathing slow and she imagined, for a moment, how it must feel to live in a castle. Maybe one of Queen Morgana's handmaidens, clad in yards of luminous green silk. It was equally tragic that her own love experiences had been as unfulfilling as the long-gone queen's had been. But unlike Morgana, Maureen's beloved hadn't been eaten by a dragon. No, her fiancé had chosen, instead, to bed a bitch. And Maureen had witnessed the whole thing. **** "Good night, dear heart. Sleep well," Aunt Tess called. "And let's hope that the pesky cluricauns don't steal any of your things while you're sleeping tonight. They do that, you know." In the small cottage all sounds carried easily, and Maureen smiled, shaking her head, as she stood in the hallway. Even 36

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with the last breath of the day, her aunt insisted on discussing Irish folklore. When the rustling sounds ceased and a gentle snore reached her ears, Maureen slipped into her own room. She turned out the lights and climbed into the huge feather bed. Cluricauns. Fairies. So silly. I'm probably just misplacing things, that's all. I have to get my mind off Jim and his new girlfriend ... get my head back to paying attention to what I'm doing. Then I'll know where my things are. Cluricauns, honestly! As she rolled over and closed her eyes, she wondered if the dream would come. She hoped it would. And it did. It came as surely and as swiftly as it had come every night since she had been in Ireland. Maureen shifted slightly, parting her legs as her breathing quickened. Her nipples rose, forming stiff, tingling peaks beneath her cotton nightgown. Hands—her own—slid over her body and palmed her breasts, releasing exquisite tremors throughout her already tingling skin. His broad shoulders pulled her closer to his body. Long and lean, with a wide chest and thick legs, his body was a magnet for hers. Maureen pressed against him and felt the hardness of his excitement pressing into her hip. She looked up into his deep brown eyes as she reached for his thick cock. Her fingers found it, circled it and held it tightly. She gave it a gentle tug—he inhaled sharply. The sound excited her and she pressed closer to his hardness ... ever closer. 37

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Without words he positioned himself above her aching wetness and slid into her. As they moved in the dance that needed no music save the beating of their hearts, she felt filled—and fulfilled. For the first time ever. His strokes grew more frenzied as he pushed her closer and closer to her climax. She felt the first glorious waves of pleasure washing over her and swallowed the sounds that threatened to escape from her lips. The shudders of her orgasm lingered deliciously within her as Maureen opened her eyes. She was alone in the dark room.

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Chapter 2 "These buttermilk scones are very good, dear heart," said Aunt Tess, spreading another dollop of wild brambleberry jam on the hot biscuit. She took a bite and looked as if she had just discovered the joys of chocolate or the delicious richness of a well-made canoli. "Tastes as good as the ones my sainted mother used to make when I was a wee girl." "It's good to see you eating again. Keep that up and you'll be back to feeling like your old self before long," said Maureen. She upended her coffee mug before she rose and set it in the sink. "Are you certain I can't get you anything else before I go?" "Not a thing, thank you." Licking a blob of jam from her fingertip, Aunt Tess looked like a schoolgirl. "You just enjoy yourself, dearie. I'll be fine." After rinsing her mug and setting it in the drainboard, Maureen dashed down the hallway but a quick look into her bedroom brought her no satisfaction. A neatly made bed, handmade throw pillows all lined up by the ancient headboard, a spindly legged night table with an elderly lamp and the newest Stephen King thriller on its polished surface and a long, low dresser with its crocheted runner was all that met her eyes. Lace panels billowing over braided rugs completed the humble room. No sign of the CD anywhere. And she had been sure she'd seen it only last night! With a sigh, Maureen grabbed the Discman and shoved in an alternate selection before returning to the tiny kitchen. Her 39

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aunt had finished the scone and was working her way through a second cup of coffee. "What is it you're looking for this morning, dear? Not those newfangled trainers of yours, is it? Those are right over there. By the umbrella stand." Maureen retrieved her running shoes, brought them back to the kitchen and sat in the empty chair. As she shoved her feet into them, she said, "No, not my sneakers. Thanks anyway, but that's not what I've been looking for." She laced the laces tightly enough that the heels of the shoes wouldn't rub against her skin as she ran. "What then?" "Oh, just my running CD ... the one I use when I jog. Dance tunes, fast and edgy, you know? Keeps my feet moving." She gave her laces a final tug before she stood up. "Ah, I understand. Keeps your feet moving and your mind still, is that it?" "Something like that." Aunt Tess smiled as she reached for the plate that held the scones. She chose one carefully from the pile before she split it and smeared it with jam. "So, where was the music, then? Where did you leave it?" "Beside the door, or at least that's what I thought. By the umbrella stand. But it's not there, so I must have put it somewhere else yesterday. Are you sure you don't need anything before I go?" The elderly woman shook her head, her curls bouncing in the rays of sunshine that filtered through the delicate lace curtains. A smile played around her lips as she spoke. 40

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"No, I'm fine. You go on and have a good run. You do know what happened to your music, don't you?" Maureen kissed her aunt on the forehead and headed for the door. She shook her head and adjusted the earphones as she clipped the Discman to her waistband. "Yeah, I know ... fairies and cluricauns. And lions and tigers and bears..." **** Twenty minutes of trying to run to the sounds of Relaxing Bedtime Melodies was enough time for Maureen to realize that she'd either have to find Club Mix or visit the local music shop. She slowed to a walk. Her feet took a route they had become familiar with. Damn. What did I do with that CD? I can't keep losing my things like this ... I'll be bare-assed and asset-free in a month! She heard the rustling of the leaves in the trees above her. The sounds soothed her frustration. I've got to get over the Jim and Kendra thing—that's it. I need to find something else to fill my mind before I can focus again—on anything, apparently. Maybe a job? No, Aunt Tess is my job, even if she seems to be relying on me less and less. Drawing more? All of my damn pencils are gone! Except for the pink one. And how many things in this green place are pink, anyway? When Maureen reached the edge of the forest, she climbed onto an enormous limestone boulder. It felt cool and smooth beneath her. She pulled her legs up onto it and wrapped her 41

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arms around her knees. Staring at the ruins was never boring. As she stared at them she could almost hear the sounds of clanging swords, voices raised in battle as well as laughter drifting to her from long-past festivals. All manner of adventure, mystery and romance had taken place in this very spot, both before the massacre and in the long years since the tragedy. So many lives touched by one point on the globe ... And now Plantation Castle is touching my life, too. But how? I need a man, that's what I need. And not just some elusive nighttime lover, either. A real flesh-and-blood man— that's the thing. Standing, she turned and walked calmly toward the path in the woods. The castle had done for her what the aborted jog hadn't been able to do. Maureen stared into the branches of the ancient trees around her and grinned at a red squirrel that scampered fearlessly above her. "If you find a man growing up there, send him down to me, all right?" **** His tongue traced a line down her body. Down her neck, nipping gently at her delicate collarbone as he passed it and headed for her tingling breasts. He tugged her erect nipple between his lips, suckling her gently as he stroked the other one with large, strong fingers. No part of her body was neglected as he loved her in the darkness. With a groan, he dragged his mouth from her breasts and traveled downward ... lower, to the spot between her legs 42

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that screamed for his touch. When he kissed her wet center a low, guttural moan escaped from her throat. Even the vibration of her own moan made her body tremble. As the first spasms of release began within her body she felt his hard, hot cock separate her swollen lips and slide into her pussy. She gripped him as she came, holding his length against her throbbing clit as her body arched against him. Maureen's eyes opened while the last of her climax held her in its embrace. She wasn't surprised to find no one else in the room with her.

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Chapter 3 "Lose anything today, dear heart?" Maureen shrugged. She had given up being angry about the misplaced items. Anger was futile and it didn't help her find her lost things. She wondered, not for the first time, whether or not she was suffering from some kind of earlyonset dementia, one whose first symptom was the inability to keep from misplacing possessions. Blarney-stone blackouts, maybe. Or Irish irrationality. Or how about Meath Madness? Maybe that's the ticket—I'm simply losing my mind. "Just some dental floss. I had the package last night when I brushed my teeth and I can't find it this morning. Maybe I knocked it down the drain." Maureen checked the kitchen table one last time to make certain that all was in order for the day's lunch. "I'll just pick up a new roll." "Down the drain? Isn't dental floss a fairly big thing to fit down the drain?" "Not really. This was one of those tiny traveling canisters, small and round. I could have knocked it in, I guess," she said. "We'll know for sure if we have to phone the plumber in a few days. Anyhow, I've got everything set for your luncheon with your friend. There's potato soup simmering on the stove. Salad's in the fridge. Chocolate cake is on the counter, and the table's all set. Is there anything else you can think of?" Aunt Tess shook her head. She looked decidedly improved, with a rosy tinge to her cheeks and a newfound sparkle in her cornflower blue eyes. Her aunt's increased vigor pleased her. 44

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"No, thank you. Are you sure you won't stay and take lunch with Nell and me? She's a dear woman and I know you'd like her and she'd love to meet you, too. What about it? Lunch with a couple of old women?" Aunt Tess looked up from the intricate needlework she was working on. Maureen couldn't tell what it was going to be yet. It looked like a bit of scenery but her aunt was being very secretive about her new project. "Thanks, Aunt Tess, but I think it'll be good for you to have some time with your friend. You two ladies haven't had a chance to catch up since before you got sick. No, it'll be nice to have a long, chatty lunch. And I wanted to go to town and poke around in the shops for a while. Pick up some new dental floss, maybe a jogging CD. Then I'm going to go sketching this afternoon, so don't expect me back before dinnertime, all right?" Maureen leaned down and kissed her aunt on the forehead. She surreptitiously checked the old woman's temperature with her lips. Cool as a slab of Connemara marble. "You know, don't you, dear heart, that the 'lost items' aren't really lost, but stolen? You do realize that, don't you?" Arthritic fingers laid the bit of linen on the quilt-covered lap. Her aunt waited patiently for Maureen's response. "Stolen? You really believe that? By what? Under-the-floor fairies? Sprites wearing birthday hats?" "Posh, dear! Don't tease an old woman. You know full well that it's the cluricauns, as I've been telling you. They come in the night, the mischievous creatures, and steal from those 45

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who need a push—they're pushing you, Maureen. Pushing you toward something they think you need," the old woman said. She picked up her handwork and poked the threaded needle into the fabric with renewed enthusiasm. "And about the fairies and sprites? Of course they're not living under the floor, for goodness sake. Fairies and sprites live in the woods, near glens and bogs, you know. They like it there best. Must be the climate or some such." Time to go. Bad enough that I can't floss this morning. I'm not in the mood for a fairy-sprite-housing discussion. Just not up for that. "All right, I'm off. Nell will be by within an hour. You ladies have fun," called Maureen. As she closed the front door behind her she heard her aunt muttering over her handwork. The words made Maureen smile. "Birthday hats, indeed! Why everyone knows that sprites would rather be dipped in oil than be seen wearing birthday hats. Now a nice bowler or derby ... that's more their style..." **** By the time Maureen reached Plantation Castle the sun hung low in the cloudless blue sky. It had taken longer than she anticipated to round up her items. She'd settled for plain dental floss, having learned that the small village didn't harbor even a scant inch of flavored floss and a jogging CD. Finding colored drawing pencils had also been a futile endeavor. She'd been offered crayons and pens, along with 46

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an occasional wide-tipped marker, but there was a shortage of artist supplies in Tully as well. Settling herself on the sun-kissed grass, she leaned against the limestone boulder and pulled her sketchbook out of her tote bag. Though she grabbed the magenta pencil, Maureen didn't begin to sketch immediately. Instead, she let her mind wander as she searched the ruins for inspiration. Last night was the most intense dream yet. When I woke up I could have sworn that I felt—actually felt—a hard cock inside me. I felt the tingling in my body, the spasms as I ... well, as I had one of the best orgasms of my life! Why can't I find a man who's not in my dreams to make me feel like that? The grin on her face wasn't something that required any effort. Neither was the prickling feeling in her nipples nor the tightening between her legs. Warmth spread through her, beginning in her center and radiating outward, consuming her whole body. Maureen placed a hand against her suddenly hot cheek and laughed out loud. I'd better get to work on my drawing. Another pink castle, that's the ticket. Otherwise, I'm going to be moaning and groaning right here in the grass like a sex-starved lunatic. **** Both women turned in early that night. Nell's visit, although welcome, had tired dear Aunt Tess out more than she was willing to admit. And Maureen ... well, she had her own reasons for wanting sleep to come swiftly to her. Reasons that kept her from wearing anything to bed except a long, loose cotton nightgown. 47

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His erection slid into her as naturally as a raindrop finds a puddle. A fleeting moment of solid meeting liquid then the two become one and begin a fluid motion that needs no interpretation. When his voice touched her ears it was as if she had heard it a thousand times before. "I want you ... I want all of you, all the time. I want you to hold me—like this, in your hot wet pussy—forever. Don't let go. Don't let go..." His thrusts brought her closer and closer to her shuddering release. As she fell forward over the edge and into the swirling abyss of delicious sensation, his voice filled her head. "Don't let go, don't let go, don't ... let ... go..."

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Chapter 4 "So what did they take last night, dear heart?" Aunt Tess looked up from her stitching to favor her niece with a grin, a twinkle in her eyes as she sat in an armchair beside the front window. It was heartwarming to see her off the sofa finally. "Anything you're going to be needing anytime soon?" "Nothing. They—the gringochs or sprites or boogey men— took nothing," Maureen said. She had a sparkle in her own eyes as she sat in the chair opposite her aunt. "Guess that disputes the whole leprechaun-as-pushy-pest theory, doesn't it?" "Cluricauns, dear heart." "Whatever. You're just sore because I'm not missing anything today. Maybe I've learned to pay attention to where I'm putting my things, that's all. Don't feel badly, Aunt Tess. Not every Irish myth can be true. Ah! There's the kettle—the water's ready. I'll pour your tea before I go for a walk." She pulled the lap robe up on her aunt's thin legs more securely as she passed her chair. It was good that her aunt was recovering, but it seemed silly to take a chance on her catching a chill. Love it that she's looking better every day. Got to keep the old dear going in the right direction. Maybe it's the tea that's helping her to feel better. God knows she drinks enough of the stuff. Maureen poured the tea and placed two scones on a plate. She put everything on a tray and lifted it to carry out to the 49

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front room. As she walked toward the door she made the discovery. "Shit!" The voice that floated out of the kitchen was angry. "What is it, Maureen? Are you all right?" Aunt Tess grabbed the quilt that covered her and tensed to stand. "Do you need my help?" "No ... no. Don't get up," Maureen said as she came back into the room. She set the tray down on top of a side table and concentrated on resisting the urge to scream and stamp her feet childishly. "What is it, dear? You look angry. What's wrong?" I've got to tell her the truth. There's no way to hide it. Shit. "My pearl earrings. They're gone from the spot on the window ledge. I put them there last night while I washed the dinner dishes. And now they're gone." She held up her hands in a gesture of resigned acceptance. There would be no finding them in the small cottage. No, in Ireland things were gone when they turned up missing—at least at Aunt Tess' house. The old woman reached for her teacup as she eyed the plump scones with unconcealed delight. "That's too bad, dear heart. Must be that lack of attention again, don't you think?" **** Maureen had the entire landscape on paper before her. The turrets, the leaning walls, the archways and bawn of Plantation Castle were all drawn in dramatic detail. They were 50

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nestled against the rolling contours of the land, hemmed in by lush, ground-sweeping willows and ringed by large chunks of ancient limestone. "That's beautiful," said a voice. It came from above and behind her. "Really, it's a gorgeous likeness. So true and intricate. I love it." Maureen scrambled to her feet. She dropped the sketchpad in the grass as she rose, and the handsome stranger bent to retrieve it for her. When he stood and handed it to her she was too stunned to take it. His chiseled features were familiar. Hauntingly familiar. Dreamily familiar. The face that looked down into hers was rugged. He looked like he could have been a lord or clan leader in a previous lifetime. His dark chestnut-colored hair fell in thick waves across his wide forehead. Eyes as deep as endless pools of molten chocolate stared deeply into hers. A strong, straight nose led down to a mouth just begging to be kissed. Full, firm lips parted in a smile that made her heart flip, flop and reflip in her chest. She smiled at him, feeling as she did the achingly familiar tingling begin between her legs. Her nipples pushed against the fabric of her shirt and she was thankful for the sweater she was wearing. "You're drawing." You're the man from my dreams. I know your voice. I know everything about you. You've been making love to me every night for the past three weeks. I know what your cock looks like, what it feels like, how it touches me when you— 51

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Damn. What am I doing? Another second and I'm going to grab him and pull him to the grass. "Thanks." Maureen's voice dripped with desire as she fought the urge to look down at the large bulge she knew had to be in his jeans. How could it not be there? She had felt it often enough to know it as well as she knew her own body. "So ... your sketch. It's great. I'm wondering, though—and I'm not trying to be rude—but is there a reason you've made the old castle that shade of pink?" "Magenta," she said, then laughed. "And yes, there is a reason." Their laughter mingled and rose to dance among the sounds of the forest. It filled the air and carried on the breeze until it was in every room, every roofless stable and every bit of the bawn at the castle. Their laughter settled into all the cracks at the old place as if it was mortar meant to fill the deep grooves between the huge building stones.

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Chapter 5 "That's right, Nell. She's living with Sean Tully, over at the old Tully manse," said Aunt Tess. She clutched the timepolished handset of the rotary phone to her ear and nodded. "Yes, it is a bit fast, I agree. But Maureen is a bright woman and so is our boy Sean. If they say they're in love, then they're in love." She rubbed a finger across an imagined fleck of dust on the surface of her newly framed stitchery as she listened to Nell on the other end of the phone. Plantation Castle, in all of its early, pre-battle glory, was worked in delicate stitches on Belfast linen. Across the bottom of the piece there were two names and a date. It was a wedding gift that she knew would be cherished. "That's right. Tomorrow at noon, at St. Brigid's Church. Surely there'll be dulse and yellowman at the reception—I had the caterer be sure to order the dulse weeks ago. Yes, it is hard to find the purple seaweed at this time of year. And to be sure, we're having scones and potato soup and farl and mutton—everything a good wedding reception should have. It's not every day that my favorite niece from America gets married. Move? No, of course they're not moving. Maureen told me just this morning that she's never felt so at home anywhere as she has since she's come here. No, they'll be staying in Tully, all right. You can count on that." ****

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Their lovemaking was deliberate and unhurried. They explored each other by the glow of warm candlelight, taking time to touch and taste every inch of skin that was caressed by the flickering flame. Sean's fingers slipped over her body as if they were familiar with every sensual curve and crest. He teased her nipples until they were stiff peaks rising from petal-soft skin. His tongue lapped at her warm, wet center, turning tantalizing circles around her tender folds. She felt herself shudder against his mouth once ... twice ... three times before he covered her body with his own. "Oh, Sean ... it feels like a dream," Maureen whispered. She wrapped her arms around his broad back and urged him closer to her. She wanted him deep within her satisfied wetness, wanted to hold him tightly and pull him toward the ecstasy she'd already found. "No, it's no dream." His throbbing cock filled the emptiness inside her as nothing else ever had. He was hot and hard and began to thrust instantly. She knew it wouldn't be long before he climaxed, so she wrapped her legs around his back and arched her hips against him. Sean's first spasms of release flooded her at the same moment her own sweet, shuddering orgasm was upon her. As they came, Sean sighed into her ear. Within the sigh there were words—words that she had heard only in her dreams. "Don't ... let ... go..." **** 54

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The light from the bonfire broke the darkness. The festivities had begun and the sound of dozens of fleet feet slapping against the hard-packed moss in time to the steady dance tempo was like a rhythm coming from the earth itself. "Ah, Clarrick, ye done good. Mighty good!" "I'm obliged to ye for saying so. It wasn't near as hard as we thought it'd be, eh? I mean, they were pushed fairly easily, don't you think?" The fellow beside him nodded as he took a long pull on his willow-root pipe. Tendrils of spicy smoke wafted around them. "Aye. Not as hard as some, but still ... a foreigner. They're not always an easy lot to push." "Aye," said Clarrick. "I'll give ye that. But all's well in the end, no? The old one, she's back to being herself. And the young ones, they've finally found each other. And us? Well, me wife's a fine sight in that lacy red brassiere, I'll say that much for her. Last night she came to me wearing only that brassiere and those dangly pearl earrings and ... well, let's just say that we both woke up with smiles on our faces. Understand what I'm saying to ye, man?" "That I do. I know it's not the same, but me wife's been rattling on and on about that teeth-cleaning string your wife's shared with her. Now she doesn't want to be using the plain stuff we've always taken from the humans. No, now she says that teeth string tastes like dry wheat grass. Now she's wanting some of that dang flavored string ... and where on earth am I going to be finding the likes of that, I ask ye?" 55

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Clarrick shook his head. "It's always something, isn't it? Wait for the next foreigner to visit Tully—they're sure to have it." "I suppose. Leastways, I do like that picture you took on the last night—that one of the old castle. Right pretty drawing, it is. Foreigner knows how to sketch, got to give her that." Clarrick nodded. It was a beautiful drawing of Plantation Castle. He only had one objection to the drawing, an unsolvable objection. "Too bad the whole thing's done in pink!"

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Celtic Love Knots Volume 4 by Rusty Wicks

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Rusty Wicks lives in a little cottage near the beach in Maine. When she's not busy writing, she reads, walks the beach searching for seashells and driftwood and takes Chinese language lessons. She spends the rest of her time with a special man who makes her heart thud, even after more years than she's willing to admit. Rusty believes in love ... and she wants you to believe in it, too.

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Celtic Love Knots Volume 4 by Rusty Wicks

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