not to bury me afore I’m dead!”
Morgan felt her way to the wall switches and flipped on the overhead fixtures. After all the light that had bathed the barn’s interior in the last hour, it was as if she’d struck a match, not turned on a pair of one-hundred- watt bulbs. She blinked in the yellowed light that seemed both bright and dim at the same time, and persuaded her eyes to focus just as the ellyll emerged from one of the stalls.
Morgan and Rhys rushed over to him. Miraculously, he seemed none the worse for wear, but he was much more concerned with the state of his prized Blue Jays cap than with answering their questions. Several shards of wood impaled the bright logo. The bill was cracked and half torn from the crown. He cradled the sorry remains in his twiggy hands, shaking his head over it.
“We’ll get you another hat,” said Morgan, patting the ellyll gently on the shoulder as much to reassure herself that he was all right as to comfort him.
The ellyll sniffed loudly. “That’s kind of ya, good lady, but this is the one that dear Leo gave me.”
“Then we’ll give it a place of honor,” she said softly.
“Morgan! Come over here!” Rhys was in Lucy’s stall, and Morgan’s heart sank. She would never forget the terrifying sight of the Wild Hunt amid the unnatural storm. If Lucy had been forced to run with it, what condition was she in now?
Morgan leaned in to look where Rhys was pointing, her heart in her throat. And then her knees gave way, and she was sitting in the straw, staring.
There was nothing wrong with the horse. Nothing at all.
Rhys brought her the big flashlight from the toolbox on the wall, and she examined the horse’s legs closely, running her hands over what used to be dozens of ghastly, deep gashes held together only by her own sutures. Instead, there was nothing but silvery gray hair over smooth, unbroken skin.
“Gwenhidw did this,” said Morgan in awe. “That’s—” She nearly jumped out of her skin as her long- forgotten cell phone rang in her front jeans pocket. Fishing it out hurriedly, she thumbed it open, and two things struck her at once. One, that it was barely 5:30 in the morning. And two, it was Jay. Hoping it was a clinic emergency and not worse news, she put the phone to her ear as Rhys put his hands on her shoulders.
“Good morning,” said Jay.
“Don’t
“Better than okay. Walking around, visiting with his kids, and complaining about the food.” There was a pause. “He wants to know if—never mind, just put Ranyon or Rhys on the phone. He won’t be happy till he talks to one of them in person.”
Morgan grinned and handed the phone to Ranyon. She wasn’t sure he could hold it, but his twiggy fingers were far more flexible than they looked. In fact, the ellyll settled himself on the grain bin as if getting comfortable for a lengthy conversation.
“Leo’s all right,” she said to Rhys.
“By all the gods, the queen has indeed set things to rights.” The mare stamped impatiently and whickered. “And now Lucy wants to try out her legs.” Rhys led the horse to the yard with Morgan and Fred at his side.
The couple stood with arms around each other watching the great horse prance and trot, buck and caper, as the big dog ran playfully beside her. The moonlight turned the mare’s dapple-gray coat to silver, and for a moment, Morgan thought Lucy looked like a faery horse. Perhaps she was.
Rhys took a deep breath and released it. “I’ll not be looking over my shoulder for the fae anymore. ’Tis a good feeling. A very good feeling.” He nuzzled Morgan’s hair, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly in her ear. “I’ve a mind to sample you here under the stars.”
“I’ve a mind to let you. But Lludd of the Silver Hand is watching and so is his dog.” She pointed up at the sky and grinned.
“I’m certain they would approve.”
“And
“I’m certain they would also approve.”
“Probably, but let’s go see Leo first.”
Rhys kissed the back of her neck, making her shiver and her breasts tighten. “Aye, well, we can tell him our news then,” he said.
“That we defeated the fae?”
“That we’re going to marry.”
Morgan’s mouth fell open. “What? When did we decide this?”
“I decided it a long time ago. And you decided it when you left the safety of the house to face down the Wild Hunt and return to the barn, my brave anwylyd.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time?”
“’Twas not a sensible idea. You could have been killed.”
“Maybe, but someone once told me that ‘instinct often reveals the greater truth.’ My instincts told me to do it, that we belonged together, no matter what.”
“Aye, and that’s why we’re marrying.”
Morgan opened her mouth and closed it again. The man had a point. So she acted on instinct again and simply kissed him with everything she had.
THE END
Read on for a sneak peek of
Heavy muscles bulged as the tall man strained repeatedly against the fine silver chains that bound him, wrist and ankle, to the stone.
“Such an ungrateful mortal you are, Aidan ap Llanfor,” she chided. “Is it not an honor to be a guest of the
He lunged at her, but though she stood within an arm’s length of him, she neither recoiled nor shrank. Aidan’s chains had been forged with faery magic, and as such they would not break, not even for the largest
For the briefest of moments, she felt something, and thrilled to it, eager for more. But Aidan immediately stilled, bridling his anger and reining it back as if he could sense her craving for emotion—any emotion—and refused to give it to her.
“I have not sought to visit your land,” he gritted out between his teeth. “Nor have I trespassed upon it. I have given thee no cause to bring me here against my will.”
“Are you so certain of that? I seem to remember a bold and comely child playing on the faery mound beyond the village. Such a dear little wooden sword he had, hacking at bushes and slicing at trees as if they were dreadful monsters.” It was satisfying that she’d succeeded in surprising him, yet puzzling to her. How was it that mortals remembered so little when their lives were so short? Years had passed for him, but for her? It was scarcely a day ago that Aidan had traded his wooden sword for the business of adults. Mere hours since he’d apprenticed to the village blacksmith. Moments since he inherited the forge and took over the business. She had observed it all, fascinated, in the way that a cat is fascinated by a bird.
“I could have spirited you away that first time,” she continued, “Simply for setting foot on fae territory. But it
