From The Deep Read online

  "What is taking you so long, woman? I willna wait all day. I must get him home."

  Aeryn turned on him, her fists on her hips. "See you here, handsome one. I have already said he is mine. I found him. I shall keep him and raise him to be a great man. A warrior, priest, and king."

  She turned back to the babe.

  A huge hand wrapped around her arm and jerked.

  "You canna keep this bairn, woman. Clean him and give him to me."

  Though the handsome one towered over her, she could only smile.

  "And how do you plan on getting back to the surface world unless I take you?" She fixed him with a glare. "Now, I suggest you go let go of my arm, sit by the fire like a good lad, and stop trying to be the master in my home."

  The moment Aeryn felt his grip release her she turned her back on him and gave her full attention to changing the nappy.

  "Imagine, Malcolm, he wants to take you back there, where they tried to kill you. You will have a much better life here with me."

  Malcolm kicked and cooed and she knew he was as amused by the idea as she was.

  "Aeryn! I got your goat." Nib’s voice echoed down the tunnel from the surface.

  Ach! If the handsome one realized there was an entry from the dry land above--she turned to shout to Nib not to--

  Too late. Nib’s long-legged form clip-clopped into the back of the grotto, a rope dangling from his teeth, a nanny following docilely on the other end.

  A strange silence fell over the room. Even Malcolm ceased his gurgling.

  She looked at the handsome one who had jumped to his feet at Nib’s entrance. The man’s eyes were wide and his mouth was as open as a fish out of water.

  Nib dropped the goat's lead and approached the man. He lowered his head to the gaping man's face and sniffed. "Hmmmm. Smells tasty. Can I eat him?"

  The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she stifled a laugh. "No, Nib. He is my guest."

  Nib snorted. "Just as well. He would probably give me indigestion anyway."

  "What are you?" the handsome one asked.

  Nib shoved at the man with his velvet nose. "What do you think I am, little man?"

  Ah, that hit a sore spot, Aeryn thought as she saw the man’s eyebrows shoot up in indignation. And truly he had some reason to be indignant. Though Nib stood taller, it was only because he was in his horse form. As a man, Nib would not stand near as tall as the handsome one.

  "I think you are a kelpie. One of those flesh-eating fey of the waters."

  Nib snorted. "You’re smarter than you look, little man."

  Just then Malcolm’s cry reminded them all of the reason Nib had appeared.

  "I am sorry, wee one. Here’s your nanny." She stopped and fixed Nib with a glare. "It is a nanny, isn’t it?"

  Nib snorted. "Am I an idiot? Of course, and I took care to get the one with the largest bag, just in case your bairn is especially hungry."

  "So, you stole a goat too?"

  The handsome one--she really would have to learn his name--leaned against the wall and looked more at ease with the situation, as if all his problems had been solved now that he knew there was another exit from the grotto.

  "I am not a thief, little man."

  "I am not a little man, kelpie."

  The two faced each other, glaring into each other’s eyes, taking measure.

  "Now, now. Dinna get all worked up. We are going to be here together for a bit, so be nice." She leaned over, holding Malcolm close to her breast. He nuzzled her, seeking the food he needed.

  "Nothing in these virgin orbs, wee one," she said with a laugh. "Let’s see now...." She peered underneath the nanny. The pink bag was indeed full, but how to get it from the goat into the babe?

  She looked at the handsome one and Nib. They both looked as perplexed as she felt.

  The handsome one smirked. "Having trouble? Perhaps I should take the bairn to his mother now?"

  "No. I will figure this out." She racked her brain, trying to remember how her mother had nursed her foster brother when she’d found him and taken him in.

  She needed a leather bladder.

  "Nib, change to human form, please, so you can milk the goat."

  A snort greeted her request and he shook his head, tossing his glossy mane from side to side. "I am a kelpie, not a goatherd. I willna do it. Even for you."

  The handsome one pushed away from the wall. "Allow me."

  Aeryn watched with some suspicion as the man lifted the pail from the hook by the fire and dipped it into the water simmering in the cauldron. He emptied the pail into the pool and went to where the goat stood. Taking a low stool, he sat by the nanny’s side, set the pail on the ground, and proceeded to wrap his long fingers around the teats.

  With slow, steady motions he stroked the goat’s teats and soon had milk streaming into the pail.

  She watched in fascination. His fingers were so long and strong. Their rhythm was so smooth, almost entrancing. Her own breasts tingled in fascination.

  Surprised at her body’s reaction, Aeryn looked away. But the rhythmic splashing of the milk shooting into the pail only made it worse. Her senses spun as she closed her eyes and imagined what those fingers would feel like on her own breasts. A moan started in her throat just as a cry from Malcolm broke her reverie.

  Her eyes snapped open. "Oh, yes, Malcolm, I shall find you a bladder now."

  She turned to search the trunk for a piece of soft leather, acutely aware that her knees trembled.

  * * * *

  MacEwan milked the goat, all the while keeping his eye on the mysterious lady with the laughing eyes. Her beauty was dazzling, but he would nae be letting her weave her magic around him. All he needed was a moment’s inattention on her part and he would snatch the bairn and run for the back of the grotto where he’d seen the kelpie come down. Judging by the slowness of the kelpie’s progress, he guessed it was a winding and narrow path--he felt sure he could outrun the large kelpie in such tight quarters. It would be a joyous moment when he returned the boy to his father and mother.

  And he would claim his prize, the lovely Tyra.

  He cast a glance at the irritating lass who had called herself the lady of this loch. She looked to be of an age with Tyra, but couldn’t have been more different in coloring. Whereas Tyra’s hair was flame and fury, this lady’s flowing locks were liquid gold.

  And Tyra’s full-bodied beauty seemed almost coarse next to the willowy form of this lady. As she bent down to search through the chest, the thin white linen of her gown pulled taut over slim hips and long legs.

  His loins tightened. This was getting to be a habit. Had they responded so strongly to Tyra? He thought not.

  But this lady was not human, he reminded himself. She was fey. As was her kelpie friend. Or was he more than a friend? This was his first encounter with fey folk, so he did not know, but still a surge of disquiet surged through him at the thought that the two might be lovers.

  She stood and he did not want to avert his gaze, so watched through narrowed eyes as she came near with the babe in the crook of one arm and a leather bladder in her other.

  He stopped milking. The pail was near full and even slopped over when she dipped in a ladle and scooped out a measure. This she poured--her hands as pure and white as the milk itself--into the open end of the bladder and twisted it closed. A drop of milk seeped from the end and she touched this to the baby’s lips.

  MacEwan allowed a chuckle to escape as the babe wrapped both chubby hands around the bladder and pulled the tip into his mouth. His loud suckling echoed throughout the cave.

  The woman laughed. He couldn’t help but marvel at how joyous a sound it was. It warmed him, wound around inside him. He yearned to hear it again.

  With a shock he wondered where the thought had come from. The lady was a child-stealer at best, a fey creature of wild nature at worst. He would do far better to keep his mind on the woman who was to be his wife rather than lust after this ethereal creature of another wo
rld.

  He shook his head. Yea, he would take the bairn and run out of here. He glanced toward the kelpie. It had moved nearer, focused on the nursing child. He stood and moved quietly toward the place where he judged the kelpie had come into the cave. Cool air brushed his face.

  "Where do you think you are going, little man?" The kelpie’s hot breath replaced the cool breeze.

  MacEwan stepped away from him. "Just wandering, kelpie." He glanced at the source of the fresh air and realized the grotto’s walls produced an illusion--what appeared to be solid was actually a curved opening to the tunnel.

  The kelpie moved his bulk between him and the exit. "You’ll nae be goin’ anywhere, laddie." With a shove of his velvety nose, the beast pushed MacEwan roughly back toward the chamber’s center.

  MacEwan’s gaze met that of the lady, holding the happily sucking babe in her arms as though she had birthed him herself. She smiled.

  "You weren’t thinking of leaving us so soon, were you?"

  "Do you mean to keep me here a prisoner?"

  "I dinna think I can let you reveal my secret home." She put the baby against her shoulder and patted his back until he gave up a healthy burp. Her smile widened.

  In spite of his realization that she was a creature of magic, he felt a softening of his heart toward her. She handled the bairn with love and tenderness. As she returned the babe to the cradle of her arms, she began to hum.

  He closed his eyes to avoid the picture of her beauty, but her sweet voice filled the grotto with magic. Beautiful, soft, lilting, it worked its way into his soul.

  It wouldn’t do. He steeled himself against her charms and forced his thoughts back to a way to return the babe. It didn’t seem he would be able to snatch the babe and run, but mayhap there was a way to convince her to willingly give him the child.

  "Lady, you canna keep this child from his mother."

  She quirked one eyebrow at him. "If his mother was so concerned about him, she would not have lost him."

  "He was nae lost, woman, he was stolen."

  Her eyes flashed fire at the accusation he had not even made. "I told you before that I was not the one who stole him."

  "Someone did. I followed the thief’s footsteps all the way from the keep to the loch."

  "There, you see. I dinna leave my loch, so could not have been in the keep. The bairn was left for me to find. I heard his heart-call. I shall keep him."

  "But how can you keep him? You have no man to be a father to him." At least he did not think she had a man. He would not look at the kelpie.

  Her happy laugh echoed through the cave. "I do not need a man. None of my forebears needed a man and they raised fine sons."

  MacEwan chuckled. "Forgive me, lady, but to make a child, you do need a man."

  She smiled and nodded. "Yes, to make one. But not to raise one. And since humans seem to misplace so many bairns, we dinna need to make many."

  That surprised him. "You were a foundling as well?"

  She frowned. "No, I am born of my mother."

  "And your father?"

  The furrows in her perfect brow deepened. "I dinna know my father." She tipped her head as though thinking. "My mother only said he was a great man and she had loved him with all her heart."

  Illegitimacy was normal among the fey? Did they not believe in marriage? He suppressed the thought, instead asking, "What of the training of the bairn as he grows? Would you make him a womanish thing?"

  "You dinna need fear for that, handsome one. Wee Malcolm will be a great warrior. He may even become a wizard if he has the gifts."

  "But who will train him?"

  She waved a hand in the air. "These things you do not need to know. We have our teachers. Why, one of my ancestors raised Lancelot du Lac. Did she do such a bad job?"

  He had forgotten the well-told tale. Lancelot had been found beside a loch and been taken in and raised by a lady who lived in it.

  "You are of her blood?"

  "Of course. What did you think?"

  MacEwan was not sure what he thought.

  "Dinna you prefer to raise a bairn of your own flesh and blood?"

  He had not meant to ask that, but now that the words were out, it seemed a good argument. At least until the logical conclusion sprang into his mind--he was practically offering to give her a child of her own to replace the one she now held tenderly to her breast.

  The prospect was a pleasing one.

  Her eyes widened and dropped from his face to the place between his hips. He didn’t need to look down to know his cock tented his tunic.

  Warmth flooded his face as she studied him. He resisted the urge to shift his position to loose the front of his still-damp tunic.

  "Are you offering to give me a child?" she asked softly.

  "Ha-rumph!"

  They both turned toward the kelpie, now shuffling from hoof to hoof.

  "I shall be going now, Aeryn," Nib said as he turned and trotted toward the pool that was the grotto’s water exit. "Summon me if you need me." He dove in.

  So, her name was Aeryn. Now that her kelpie was gone, he was not so sure he had to bed her to get back the bairn. Surely he could overpower her.

  "No, you canna take him from me."

  He stared. "Can you hear my thoughts?"

  Her only response was an enigmatic smile.

  "Think you have the strength to keep me from simply taking the child and leaving the same way the kelpie came in?"

  She shrugged. "Perhaps you could try, but it willna work."

  It almost sounded like a dare.

  MacEwan decided he should find out, even though he was beginning to regret it would mean he would have to leave the beautiful Aeryn’s company, and, he admitted, the possibility of taking care of the itch between his legs. Apparently she didn’t read those thoughts, for her next words surprised him.

  "But what a sorry hostess I am. Let me fix you some food. You must be hungry."

  "I willna eat fairy food."

  A tinkling laugh greeted this statement. "I am not a fairy, silly man. You may be certain my food is not tainted with magic." She laid the babe--unwillingly it seemed to MacEwan--on a pile of skins and reached for a wooden bowl on the shelf above the fire. When she removed the lid from the cauldron hanging on a hook just off the fire, the smell of stewed fish and vegetables teased his nose and worked its way down to his empty belly.

  The growling sounded, for he was indeed hungry.

  "Come, sit." She indicated the table, large enough for a great hall, and two chairs, but moved in such a way that she stayed between him and the bairn. Clearly she did not trust him.

  MacEwan decided his best course was to accept her hospitality for now and so took a chair. Aeryn placed the bowl before him with a small loaf of crusty flatbread. He picked up the spoon and tasted the stew, all the while watching her as she prepared a bowl for herself and got them both mugs of cool ale. She joined him at the table and they ate in silence.

  "So," she said finally, "what were you saying about giving me a bairn of my own?"

  Chapter Four

  Aeryn smiled behind her spoon as the handsome one choked on a hunk of fish.

  "I dinna believe I offered that."

  "Your body said otherwise." She took a mouthful of stew, chewing carefully and swallowing. "What is your name, handsome one?"

  He blinked as though confused. "Leith MacEwan, of the MacEwans of Otter."

  "Hummm." Aeryn sipped more stew. The idea had shocked her at first, but it was becoming more exciting by the minute to think of lying with MacEwan and conceiving a child with him.

  It was time she completed her journey into womanhood. She had set up housekeeping in this, her own loch, just last summer, had become fast friends with the loch’s kelpie, Nib. Now she needed to learn what it was to make love to a man. Not just to have a bairn to carry on after she was gone, but to experience the act of love itself.

  Did she love this man already? Was such a thing possible? Surely she f
elt an attraction unlike any other she had ever known. But was that love?

  Would the handsome one Leith MacEwan truly lie with her? She almost giggled as a wickedly delicious picture formed in her head--using her fey powers to force him to submit to her desires, just to be sure he came to desire her as much as she did him.

  Her heart beat faster as her plan developed.

  "Dinna you wish to lie with me?"

  "What?"

  He sounded shocked, and that shocked her. How did the ground-dwellers arrange such things?

  "I find you desirable," she replied. "I wish to lie with you. I want you to father a child on me."

  "No." He shoved away his bowl and stood. "What kind of immoral creature are you?"

  "Immoral? What are you talking about? Is this not how such things are done?"

  "No! Women do not proposition men in this way."

  "Ah, I see. You wish to be the aggressor."

  "No, I mean, yes. No."

  Now she was truly confused. How would her mother have managed this? Aeryn wracked her memory for any hints.

  "I will have the bairn now, woman."

  The hairs on the back of her neck shot up at his tone. Decidedly disrespectful it was. Though she was young, she was still the lady of this loch and she would brook no such attitude from anyone, let alone a ground-dwelling man.

  She would show him who was mistress in this place.

  She stood and faced him, focusing her power.

  Then she smiled.

  His eyes went wide and his lips--just a moment before tight as a bowstring in anger--slackened. His arms fell to his sides.

  She closed the small space between them and raised her hand to stroke the backs of her fingers along his cheek. Tracing her fingertip along the strong plane of his jaw, she finally allowed herself to brush the velvet of his full lips.

  "I want you, Leith MacEwan."

  "Yes."

  A twinge nipped at her conscience. He was not truly willing. Still, he needed to be taught a lesson. She had saved his life. He owed her a boon, whatever she wanted, and he had refused.

  She had the right.

  That thought pushed out everything else as she took his hand and pulled him toward her pallet of furs on the floor before the fire.