“Wait, I’m not ready yet.”
He pushed her down on the floor and shoved inside her. She cried out in surprise and pain, but as he rocked in and out, she forced herself to relax to the inevitable. He had the right as her husband. She must accept his attentions. While gritting her teeth, the sexual tingling in her own body finally responded. By the time he finished, she’d almost reached her own climax, their sweat intermingling with the mud on the cavern floor.
Oisinne lay upon her, his heavy weight pressing down. It reminded her of the netting they had rigged over her, and she needed to be up and free. Clíodhna struggled to get out from under him. He opened his eyes and laughed. “Oh, you want more?”
She didn’t want more, but he stroked her below until his manhood came ready. At least he moved from on top of her while he readied her, giving her time to breathe. By the time he re-entered her, her body welcomed him, even as her mind denied him. Again, they rocked in passionate rhythm.
Once making love to her husband had been a joy. Now it seemed a chore. He’d become a stranger, someone with high demands but little familiarity. At least this time he brought her to her own pleasure before he spent his.
Aileran’s whimpers roused her from her post-coital drowsiness. She extracted herself from her husband’s flaccid embrace and went to feed her baby, tying her hair in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. As he sucked, she glanced down at her belly. Clíodhna would show soon, though. Her husband’s return and his reassertion of his rights might be a useful thing.
* * *
After they ate their morning meal, Oisinne packed up the remaining food. He stuffed the dried fish in with the few rowan berries and a sliver of hard cheese. Next, Oisinne scooped the bowls into the iron pot. He turned to glare at them. “Well? What are you waiting for? It’s time to go home! Time to go! Time to go! Time to go!” He hopped around, examining the edge of the table, the central hearth glowing with coals, and the doorframe with equal intent.
After shoving down her annoyance at his arbitrary decision, and rolling her eyes at his silliness, Clíodhna reminded herself she’d had the same idea. She bundled her blankets into one big mass to tie on her back. Etromma and Donn exchanged a glance and gathered their belongings.
Once they’d packed everything and she nestled Aileran into his sling around her neck and shoulder, she gave the cavern a quick glance. Ishc the nuckelavee had never emerged again after Oisinne arrived, but she said goodbye to him anyhow. The trampled ground near the entrance and the charred ring of their fire remained the only indications of residence.
Oisinne danced around near the cave mouth like a manic pixie, the whites of his eyes glittering in the shadows. “Time to go! Time to go!”
She sighed deeply and followed her husband outside.
The day remained as misty as ever, but Oisinne guided them. She’d never traveled the path without Adhna leading her in and out of the mystical place. Etromma had said her hunting ventures didn’t find any familiar ground, but the path wended down the hill and into the forest below. The mist cleared as they got farther down, and her home came into view.
She’d half-expected a ring of monks to still be guarding the place, but after a moon, they must have given up and gone home. Still, relief flooded her when the clearing appeared empty. They walked into the roundhouse, dusty and achingly bare, and dropped their heavy loads. Clíodhna still hadn’t recovered all her strength from her magical battle with Bodach and her legs felt heavy after the downhill walk.
The roundhouse seemed smaller, somehow. Definitely not the warm homestead she remembered from last summer, before Oisinne had disappeared. Her life seemed so distended, unconnected, since then.
Memories of ringing laughter, tall tales, and ominous legends swam through her head. She’d been a part of Oisinne then. They had worked together as one, enjoying a strong love and friendship. She’d lost that connection, perhaps forever.
Clíodhna realized the flame of friendship she’d had with Odhrán sparked a similar vein within her heart. If he had been free to stay, she might have forged a strong relationship with him. Her dalliance with Adhna had potential but must continue separate as long as they remained student and mentor.
She silenced her musing with determined industry. Sweeping, clearing, organizing, all the things she needed done to get the farm back in working order. Someone had fed the animals and even milked the cows. Clíodhna suspected Adhna had arranged this. She must ask him when he returned.
Would Adhna return? With her husband home, the Fae might stay away from her. Unexpected tears pushed behind her eyes at the prospect of losing her teacher and companion. She swallowed them away and wiped the sweat from her face as she cleared out the soiled hay in the stable. High summer meant high heat.
Etromma’s querulous voice came from behind the roundhouse, but Donn’s lower tone reassured her. Though Clíodhna strained to listen, no sound came from her husband. He should still be in the roundhouse, arranging his sleeping area.
A cry cut through her thoughts. She ran into the house, only to find her husband ripping his wool blanket into shreds.
“Oisinne! What are you doing?”
His eyes had grown wide and wild. He clutched at the scraps of the fabric like they held his life’s blood.
