From The Deep Read online

  "Lie there," she commanded.

  He obeyed.

  "Remove your tunic."

  Again, he reached for the tail of his garment and prepared to pull it up.

  "Stop."

  His eyes never left hers as his hands stopped their movement.

  Aeryn knelt beside him and reached out, brushing her fingertips along the dark hair covering his muscled thighs. Opening her hands, she reveled in the sensations of her palms moving over him. She continued stroking, slowly lowering her hands until they met his flesh. His thighs were all sinew and muscle. Delight coursed up her arms as she kneaded him.

  She let her hands slide under the tunic, feeling but not yet seeing. She imagined the power of his maleness and then, as though at her bidding, he swelled, his length pushing up at the stiff wool.

  She leaned over and brushed her cheek against the tip of his member. The wool covering him was soft, soothing. Her nose sensed the essence of the fiber....

  And something more. The smell of a man. Earthy, hot, masculine. It caused an ache in her loins and her blood to heat as though boiling.

  She wrapped her fingers around his hardness, still draped in wool. A small gasp escaped her lips as she realized her fingers were unable to fully enclose his shaft. So big. She tightened her grip, trying to encase him, when his moan made her look away from the object of her fascination and up at his face. His head was tipped back and his eyes closed.

  "Does this please you?"

  "Yes." His voice rasped and his fingers clutched the furs beneath him.

  "Shall I stop?"

  "Nae. Dinna stop."

  See, she told herself, she was not forcing him. He acted of his own free will.

  And since it pleased her, too, she stroked him some more. But soon to touch through the wool was not enough. She wanted to see him, to touch him flesh-to-flesh. Again she put her hands under the tunic and pushed it up. Then she leaned back on her heels.

  The promise of his well-muscled legs had not lied. He was narrow in the waist, flat in his belly. And his root.

  Ah, what a beautiful sight.

  It stood even taller, now that it was released. A glistening droplet crowned its tip.

  Again she wrapped her fingers around him, as far as she could reach. Using the same stroking, pulling motion she had seen him use on the goat earlier, she gave him more, just as he had asked. He grew even larger in her hand.

  His hips began to move, to jerk, and to thrust the hard staff in her fingers.

  Suddenly he reached up, grabbed her by the arms and rolled her onto her back.

  "Wait!" She shoved against his chest, but his bulk was impossible to move.

  "You want this?" He was staring into her eyes with his own of burning blue fire and now she wondered who ensorcelled whom?

  It was her deepest soul which spoke, for the answer was not the one she had intended to give.

  "Yes."

  He half-moaned, half-whispered, "Yes, Aeryn," as his lips claimed hers.

  Her first kiss was all she could have wished. He took her soul and left her wanting more. The soft warmth of his tongue teased her lips to part and his claiming went deeper. She tasted him as he swept along her teeth, the insides of her lips. His essence mingled with hers as their tongues played.

  Delight sparked along her spine, connecting her most secret place with her mouth, her breasts, her skin, everywhere he touched, and he touched her everywhere.

  She barely realized her gown had disappeared, and when he rose to his knees and tore his tunic from his shoulders she felt a rush of liquid heat course through her body.

  He braced his hands beside her shoulders and leaned slowly back to her. His breath passed over her lips, taunting her, down her throat. He paused over the hollow of her neck and pressed his lips to her skin before he swept down to the tip of her breast and closed his mouth over her hardened nipple.

  Her back arched in a spasm of pleasure and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips. Locking her fingers in his hair, she arched again as he took more of her breast into his mouth, suckling her. His hands moved up to knead where his mouth couldn’t reach and she lost all control. She could only moan, crying out again and again.

  "MacEwan!"

  "I am here, beautiful Aeryn. I shall not leave either of us wanting."

  "I dinna know--" Her words were cut off by the sealing of her mouth with his.

  "Open your legs to me, lady mine, if you want me inside you."

  Knowing only that she had an emptiness that begged for filling and that the root to fill it pressed thick and hard on her belly, she parted her legs. Even though she had never experienced love before, Aeryn knew this was as it should be.

  He lifted his body from hers only long enough to shift his staff to the heat between her legs, now wet with need.

  She felt his tip probing.

  "It willna hurt but for a moment," he whispered, his voice deep and hoarse.

  He pressed into her, pulled slightly back, then thrust mightily. His hardness plumbed her, pushing past her entrance. Her cry rang off the cavern’s walls.

  He was so big, but so gentle. He pressed further, until she had accepted his entire length. When she was able to open her eyes, she found him over her, smiling at her.

  "Aeryn?"

  The soft whisper of her name from his lips was a joy even greater than the pleasure of him inside her.

  "Be you all right?"

  She could only nod.

  He withdrew slightly, then plunged into her again. Her body responded, arching to meet his thrust.

  They danced so for long moments, the pleasure building and building, until she believed she would lose her reason.

  She did. There was nothing. Only him, connected to her by a bond stronger than life or death. There was no earth, no heaven, no loch, no meadow--naught mattered except him.

  He exploded within her and she clutched him, pulling him closer than close. He rested his forehead against hers and thrust once more.

  She felt his seed shoot into her, the seed he gave her. She could see it flowing into her womb.

  In that moment she had a vision. She would bear him a son. She treasured the vision and hid it deep within her heart.

  Two sons to raise to manhood.

  Chapter Five

  MacEwan felt the last tremors of passion fade as he lay atop her softness, their bodies fitting together as if they had been molded as one at creation. She held him, her arms around him, her fingers caressing his shoulders, and her womanly parts sheathing him, still pulsing her pleasure. Pleasure he had given her.

  Given?

  He jerked up and stared into her face.

  She had entranced him. Used magical seductive powers.

  That had to be the explanation, for he had never acted so with a woman. It had to be magic.

  He swore under his breath and rolled away, furious with her, and disgusted with himself.

  "I dinna like what you did to me, woman."

  He watched her green eyes cloud with confusion. "What?"

  "Dinna play with me. I know you tricked me."

  "No--"

  "I was ready to take the bairn and you...." MacEwan grabbed for any reason, and did not want to consider the truth niggling at his conscience. "You needed to stop me from taking the child and leaving."

  She jumped up and he too, stood, steeling himself against the translucent glow of her body as she faced him. He scowled. He would not be blamed, for she had obviously used her powers on him.

  Stepping between him and the babe, she stared into his eyes, but he refused to be seduced again by her unearthly beauty. It took every bit of his will to resist the yearning he felt, as though it had been real.

  But he knew it was not. She was only using her loins to keep the bairn.

  "If you wish to leave, then you may go," she said. "But you leave without the bairn. I have told you, he was left beside my loch. He is mine."

  "It is not your loch, lady. It, like all the
land around it, belongs to the Campbell."

  She put her fists on her hips. He tried not to look at where they rested, forcing himself to keep his gaze on her face.

  "I have no regard for the rules of men. You may claim whatever you like, but the fact is as it is. The loch is mine. You men use it only as I give you leave."

  He took a menacing step toward her, but a snuffle from the cradle of furs where little Malcolm lay reminded him of his first duty.

  "The Campbell will drain this loch and destroy you if I return without his bairn."

  She laughed and he closed his mind to the lilting sound. "He can try, handsome one. But he must drain the Great Sea before he can get to me." This time it was she who took a step toward him and he who backed up involuntarily. "Tell him what you will, but he will not get the bairn back. He canna touch me. Leave now, before I do something to you that I will regret."

  A shiver shot down MacEwan’s spine. What else could she do? He honestly didn’t know. One thing he did know was that Malcolm would be safe as long as the lady of the lake had him. If he did not leave he ran the risk of never returning to tell Campbell where the bairn was.

  He bent over to retrieve his tunic.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Six

  MacEwan squeezed his eyes shut against the painful ringing in his head. Raising his hand to the back of his aching skull, he found an egg-sized lump telling him where the deceitful woman had struck him. He wondered what she’d used.

  "Here he is!"

  Feet rustled through the bracken and came closer.

  "Do you yet live, laddie?"

  Big hands turned him over onto his back.

  "What happened?" Campbell helped him sit up.

  MacEwan took a moment to get his bearings--he lay on the grass beside the loch--before answering.

  "I was a fool, that’s what happened."

  "Did you find my boy?"

  "Aye, I found him."

  "Where is he?" The older man’s voice shook with emotion. Clearly he expected the worst.

  MacEwan put his hand on the man’s arm and squeezed. "He is well, Campbell."

  "But where is he?"

  "That is a long story." He sincerely wished he could put off this explanation until they were in a private place. There were too many ears around for his liking.

  Campbell sat himself on the damp ground beside him. "Seems I have time."

  MacEwan sighed and started his tale. "I followed a set of tracks to this place. When I got here a woman was carrying the bairn away."

  "A woman?" Campbell frowned. "So, you took the bairn from her. Where is he, MacEwan? She must be punished as I have vowed."

  "She claims she did not steal the child, but found him left on the shore."

  Campbell's face hardened. "The one who took my son shall wish for a quick sword to the belly for such a deed." He turned back to MacEwan. "Where is she? Where is my boy?"

  "She took him below." He waited, hoping Campbell would understand and he would not have to say the words that he himself could still barely believe.

  But Campbell’s face showed no understanding.

  MacEwan tried again. "She took him under the water." Again he waited, then added, "She claims to be the lady of this loch."

  Campbell sat back on his heels, furrows as deep as a new-ploughed field marring his high brow. "Lady of the loch?" He turned to his men. "Did any of you know we had such a lady?"

  To a man, they shook their heads, save one grey-beard. "We had such a lady when I was a lad but she has not been seen in many a year." He shook his head. "Campbell, if she's took your boy below, she won't give him up."

  Campbell's hands formed into ham-sized fists. "No." He leaned forward. “Tell me everything, MacEwan. I will have my son back."

  MacEwan described the lady’s disappearance beneath the water, baby Malcolm wrapped in her arms. He also told of his own sojourn in her demesne, but did not tell all.

  Hands flew in crossing themselves. Even MacEwan’s fingers itched to make the sign, but he did not believe that after dallying with such a creature he could expect much protection.

  "Where in the water is this cave? We will get the lad back."

  The men stood around the edge of the loch, staring at the water as though that could show them the secret passage into the lady’s lair.

  "There is another way into her demesne."

  Campbell jumped to his feet. "Where?"

  "I dinna know exactly, but I know there is one. She had a kel--a minion of hers bring down a goat to feed the child."

  Campbell started to organize his men to search the lake for an entrance.

  "No," MacEwan said. Determination lent iron to his spine and he got to his feet, but wove as his head spun. He ignored the throbbing ache. No woman, even a supernatural one, was going to best him. "Force of arms will not defeat this unnatural creature. I shall bring back your son, Campbell. Tell Tyra to prepare for a marriage."

  ‘Twas time to hunt a kelpie.

  * * * *

  MacEwan stared in fascination at the naked man plucking red berries from the bramble. Droplets of water sparkled on his skin, jewel-like and radiant. The man’s raven black hair shone nearly blue, except for the stray strands of green water-weed clinging to it.

  The man showed no awareness of being watched, nor any concern at his state of undress. He merely grazed along the bramble, delicately pulling off the ripe berries and popping them into his mouth.

  This was her kelpie. The kelpie who would take him to the lady, and the bairn.

  MacEwan crept through the thicket, staying low, carefully placing each foot lest he alert his prey.

  "Ummmm." The kelpie licked his fingers. "These berries are excellent, little man."

  MacEwan squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Standing, he faced the beast.

  "How did you know I was here?"

  The man snorted a horse-sounding laugh. "We kelpies, even in man form, have a highly developed sense of smell. Your stink is so strong I would have to be dead to not have known." He waved a hand with a berry between his first two fingers at the loch. "I smelled you a mile away."

  Wiping his hands together, the kelpie started toward MacEwan. "What brings you down to the lady’s demesne this fine day?" He crooked a black eyebrow. "I suppose you intend to try to take the child again?"

  "I was hoping to convince her to give him back."

  The kelpie chuckled. "She cannot give back what she did not take."

  "You play with words, kelpie."

  "You waste your time, little man."

  MacEwan closed the short distance between them. "I would not call ‘little’ a man you must look up to."

  The kelpie’s eyes narrowed. Though he was in man form, his eyes had lost none of their fierceness.

  "I dinna need physical stature to call you what you are. You may have bulk, but you lack what is truly needful. You have lost your connection to the world. You think you are the rulers of earth, but it is the old ones, the lady’s people, who truly rule." He smirked and shook his head. "Go home, little man. Tell your Campbell to get another son on his wife. This one now belongs to the lady of the loch."

  Something about the way the kelpie spoke the words roused the green-eyed monster in MacEwan’s heart. Suspicion that the lady had given her love to this creature--and how many others?--chewed at him. He had to know.

  "What are you to the lady? Her lover?"

  A smile twitched one corner of the kelpie’s face. "Every loch has its guardians. We kelpies were put here to protect the ladies of the loch."

  MacEwan felt a scowl coming on. He did not like the way the kelpie played with words. "You dinna answer my question."

  "It wouldna be a good thing to give one’s heart to the lady." He stared at MacEwan. "Do you not agree?"

  "What do you mean? I have not given my heart to anyone. She is a creature of magic and seduction."

  The kelpie shrugged. "Are not all women?"

  Suc
h a thought had never occurred to him. Even as he let it drift through his mind, he rejected it.

  "We are not talking about me, kelpie. What is important is to get the bairn back where he belongs."

  "The child was left to die. Who is to say he was not meant to be raised by the lady?" Nib tipped his head and grinned. "As to her lovers, she has had only one."

  MacEwan grabbed the kelpie’s shoulders and shook him. "Who? Who was the man?"

  "Release me, little man. We kelpies eat human flesh, you know, not just berries."

  MacEwan glared, but let go.

  Nib shook his head. "You were there, little man, think. You know who."

  MacEwan let the words sink in. He had been her only lover.

  "Do you care for her, little man?" The kelpie fixed him with a stare. "Either love her or let her be. Think carefully before you act. For know this--if you hurt her, you will answer to me."

  "I would never hurt--"

  "You know what I mean."

  The kelpie turned to go and MacEwan’s mind snapped back to why he’d come. He couldn’t let him get away--the kelpie was his only link to the lady’s hiding place.

  He leaped at the retreating man-form.

  The kelpie yowled, the sound so much like an enraged stallion that MacEwan had to look to see what he held. The creature was still in man-form.

  Locking his legs around the kelpie’s middle and his arms around the neck, he held on as the kelpie fell to the ground and started to roll.

  The weight on him grew, pressing the air from his chest. MacEwan fought against losing consciousness and concentrated only on holding on.

  They rolled and rolled. Then the kelpie got to his feet, MacEwan still hanging onto his back.

  "Let go, little man."

  "No! Take me to her."

  A horsy laugh greeted his demand. "Dinna you know the tales? Ride with me into the deep and you shall never return, save as scraps for the bottom-feeders."

  "You do naught but talk, kelpie," MacEwan shot back, though his breath came in ragged gasps.

  Rage exploded from the beast.

  "As you wish, but you have been warned."

  The neck expanded, forcing MacEwan to likewise expand his hold. Long, coarse, black hair filled his hands. The waist grew, rounded, until MacEwan’s legs gripped not a man, but the well-barreled girth of a stallion.