a Touch of Intrigue (28 page)

Fred smiled. “I want to see proof, Everly Gray, but I’ll thank you now all the same. I’ve been waiting for you to clean up the last open file on Loyria Gray so I can retire. Couldn’t leave so much as a hint of that deadly stuff out in the world, since the young whipper-snapper agents don’t have the skill to manipulate impossible situations.” He pointed to his chest with his thumb. “I’m the last of the old school.”

Martin groaned, attempted to sit up, and looked at each of us in turn. “I’m better, yes? My vision is clearing.”

“You’re all set to travel, Martin. Let’s head to the chopper.”

Martin covered his eyes, uncovered them and blinked a few times. It’s not cloudy. It’s…
mon dieu
…truly a miracle potion. Merci.”

“Um-hmm. I think you best rest for a while yet.” I turned to Fred. “What the hell nationality is he?”

“Who knows for sure. He’s been undercover for so many years, I doubt even he remembers, but we have him listed as Russian. And now we need to leave.”

Fred stood, then helped Martin to stand.

I grabbed Fred’s arm. “You can’t take him like this. There hasn’t been time—”

“Not your call, Ms. Gray.”

The hell it wasn’t. “This is my house, my healing formula, and that man is no condition to be hiking back to the cottage. We don’t even know how stable the potion is, or for how long.”

Fred hiked his thumb at Martin. “Have you forgotten that this man threatened you and your family this morning?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t say I liked him. And I’m all for you taking him away and, please the goddesses, don’t ever let him leave whatever facility you lock him up in. But later, Fred. After we see how the potion works. There hasn’t even been time to ascertain how the plants will respond over time, much less a human.”

Martin’s gaze shifted between Fred and me, landed on me. “I prefer to leave, Sweeting. I
know
I’m dying and your magic elixir will only hold the illness ravaging my body at bay for so long. Fred will need every second of that time to clean up the loose ends of my life. For better or worse, I was loyal to my beliefs and to my country. Fion Connor was not. It remains for Fred and I to ensure there’s no trace of her malevolent behavior remaining.” A disagreeable frown contorted his face. “Not that I spending my last hours of life with Fred is in any way palatable.”

Fred snorted. “We agree on that. Let’s go.”

I bristled. “But—”

Pierce spun me into his arms, and planted a kiss, a really, really good knee-wobbling, toe-curling kiss, smack on my mouth. Every cell in my body responded, and when he finally backed away, Fred and Martin were long gone.

I poked him in the chest. “You did that on purpose.”

“I always kiss you with purpose, Belisama.” His grin was lecherous. And adorable.

“But they…” I pointed toward the door.

“Time to let that one go.”

Siofra nodded. “I believe there’s some American saying about it not being your sandbox.”

Lorcán kissed Siofra’s cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as Fred and Martin are in the air.” He took off at a jog.

Harlan dropped his arm over Millie’s shoulders. “And we’ll be heading home, see to it that helicopter gets off our roof.”

Millie nodded. “And I have a kitchen to clean.”

I straightened my t-shirt. “I’ll come and help. You shouldn’t have to face that mess by yourself.”

“No, you won’t be coming.” She nodded toward Aukele. “I believe you have something else to do tonight.”

Aukele stood in the doorway, a manila folder in his hands.

And my head spun from everything that had happened in such a short time.

My grandfather handed me the folder. “Makani would be proud of you, as I am. Loyria and James have raised you well.” He bowed. “Namasté Everly Gray and Tynan Pierce.”

And he was gone.

Siofra covered a yawn, her eyes twinkling. “I’m off to bed. We have a full day of work ahead of us tomorrow.”

And that left Pierce and me, standing in our living area with an aged folder of information between us.

TWENTY-SEVEN

ENERGY SWIRLED AROUND THE FOLDER
Aukele handed me
,
all of it my grandmother’s, and the images…how was I going to share these with Pierce? We hadn’t been alone in what seemed like forever, what with a lifetime of chaos, fear, and miracles happening in less than forty-eight hours.

Exhausted, I handed him the folder. “I’ve seen…my fingers showed me. They’re pictures my grandmother drew, and I’d like to save them to share with you later. Before the hand-fasting, but not tonight.”

“Ceremony’s coming up. Day after tomorrow.”

My cheeks flushed hot. “Oh. I…”

Pierce tipped my chin up. “Hand-fasting isn’t necessary. Your choice.”

I shook my head, vehemently. “No. It’s not that. I’d like Annie and Sean, Adam and Ben, and Aukele to be there. It would be wonderful to have Cait, but she’d never make it in time.”

He tugged the scrunchie out of my hair. “
Mo mháthair
is Irish. Invitations went out when she arrived.”

My eyes must have been spinning, because the room started to wobble. “How did she—”

“Pilot told me. He mailed them for her.” Pierce ran his fingers through my hair, teasing out the knots, massaging my scalp.

I melted into him. “You don’t ever have to stop that.”

“Mmmmm. I do. There are other places.” His hands drifted under my shirt, stroked my back, slipped under the waistband of my cargoes, and massaged…everything.

Weak, I planted my hands against his chest. “I’m dirty. Need a shower.”

“Siofra saw to it.”

What? I leaned back, and gazed at him, intently. “That makes no sense.”

He sighed. “She showed me. Flowers, candles, steaming bathtub.”

I blinked. Furiously. “In
our
bathroom?”

He didn’t toss me over his shoulder, but picked me up gently, cradling me to his chest. “Um-hmm.”

“How did she…when?”

“While you worked with Martin.
Mo mháthair
multi-tasks.”

I pressed my forehead against his chest, breathed in all the scents he’d collected during the day. “Missed that.”

We’d reached our bedroom, and the glow from dozens of candles danced in beautiful, intricate patterns over the walls. But best of all was the wild scent of the sea wafting from the bathroom. I inhaled long and deep. “That fragrance is almost as intoxicating as you are.”

“Mmmm.” He nuzzled his nose in my neck, then slid my body down the front of him. It was one of our favorite things—sliding, full body contact. And there was no doubt how he planned to spend the evening.

Pierce undressed me slowly, lavishing me with kisses as my clothing dropped to the floor. Slow, easy kisses. Tantalizing. Exciting. Until I stood, bare, in front of him. “You are beautiful, Everly. I cherish you.”

He laced his hand with mine, led me into the bathroom, and then turned me, spooning me against him.

It was wildly erotic, my nakedness against his clothes. The coarse weave of his pants scraping lightly over my buttocks. The well-worn cotton of his t-shirt caressing my back. And his hands… “Oh. My. I want skin, Tynan. Your skin rubbing all over me.”

“Our bathtub was made for
slow
sex.”

I dipped my toes into the sunken tub, releasing more of the ocean scent. Water lapped over the side, calling to me, calling to the sea glass on my wrists. I turned to face Tynan, peeled his shirt over his head. “It’s healing. The water.” I released the button on his cargoes, unzipped them. “The sea glass.” I slid my hands under his waistband, massaged. “And us.” I pushed his clothes off, watched them pool around his ankles. “How we make love, share love.” And I brought my attention back to his center, to the perfection of his manhood. “Mine.”

He took my hand, and led me down the steps into our tub, one step at a time. The water circled our ankles. Warmth traveled up my legs, heating my core. I drew in a breath. Sharp. Needy.

Two more steps, and the water swirled between my legs. Throbbing need exploded deep in my center. “I need you. Now.”

Pierce held my waist, sunk into the tub, and lifted me over him. “We fit perfectly.” His voice was rough with need.

We spent a long time practicing that very perfection, until exhaustion from the day seeped into our lovemaking, slowing it to quiet cuddling in the comfort of our bed.

Everything had faded into the background, except one persistent thought: our hand-fasting ceremony was the day after tomorrow. “Is there anything we have to do to prepare for the hand-fasting? Siofra hasn’t had time to tell me much, but while we were creating the formula, she mentioned an oathing stone and how it’s used to transfer the bond of the couple to the spirit energies present, and then goes on its own journey.”

He gave me his “interested” grunt. “Yeah, ceremony is usually in a sacred location.”

A shiver rippled through me. “Is there any place more sacred than my mother’s garden? Where life and death live in harmony. Because that’s what happens there. The rainforest plants are capable of taking life, and the ocean plants restore health and well-being. When we buried my bracelet in the garden, there was no question the land had become sacred. But we need something bigger. The garden has to be protected forever, and my bracelet is too small to hold a sacred space for eternity.”

I levered up on my forearms and held his gaze. “Do you remember seeing a large piece of purple sea glass on the sea glass artist’s work table? We need to purchase that. It’s large, and old enough to hold life and death in balance. And it will purify our land, heal it from the intrusion of Fred and Martin.”

He brushed the back of his hand over my cheek. “I remember the glass. I agree it’s perfect, and yeah, the land damn well needs some kind of healing. And yes, our hand-fasting should be in the garden.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Anything else before you let me sleep?”

I traced his lips with my fingertips, checking. An image of the rainbow eucalyptus splashed on my internal screen. “You want our hand-fasting to be under the rainbow tree, right?”

“You messing in my head, Belisama?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“Yeah. Sometimes when you’re broadcasting at a gazillion decibels I can’t help it.”

“Trip to the North Shore tomorrow for sea glass?”

“How did you know? Did you pick up one of her business cards, too?”

“Mmmm.”

And that was all he had to say on the subject.

SIOFRA INSISTED ON JOINING US
when we made our pilgrimage to the North Shore. She said it was because she wanted to help us select the perfect sea glass for our oathing stone. But once we met with the artist, I realized her agenda was two-fold. Apparently we also needed to have the perfect piece of sea glass as part of the cords that would be used in our hand-fasting. We searched through ancient bottle stoppers and bottoms. The first one I set aside was an easy choice. It was the large purple piece we needed to heal our land. It was smooth to my touch, and the images it showed me were of the ebb and flow of life, a balance between the good and evil. “This is our oathing stone.”

I handed it to Siofra. She tested the weight, closed her eyes and rubbed her thumb over the surface. “Yes. It’s strong enough to hold a sacred space, as well as the promises you make to each other, but we need to bury it early in the morning, way before the ceremony. It needs time to settle in to the garden before your hand-fasting. Not the typical way an oathing stone is used, but your vows to each long ago.”

The artist took the glass from Siofra and wrapped it. “It’s a good choice. Purple is a mixture of stability and energy. Some say it’s powerful and wise, magical.”

Pierce had moved to the far side of the artist’s workspace and reached for the only piece of sea glass on the entire table that was red. It belonged to him as surely as if it had jumped into his hands. I grabbed the artist’s sleeve. “I want that one. It will make a perfect hand-fasting gift…with silver and heavy black leather.”

“Another good choice, especially for that one.” She tipped her head toward Pierce. “Red symbolizes danger, strength, power, passion, and courage. It is the color of fire and blood.”

Well, of course. And for us it would signify our blood oath to each other. “Our hand-fasting is tomorrow.”

“Go. Have some lunch in town, and I’ll have it ready for you when you come back.”

Pierce strolled over to me, and handed the red glass to the artist. “And I want that dark blue for Everly. The one that matches her eyes.”

I followed where he was pointing. The deepest, darkest shade of blue sea glass I could ever imagine sparkled in the sunlight. “Oh. It’s beautiful.” I wrapped my hand around my wrist, missing the bracelet that had been buried in my mother’s garden.

“Oh, my,” the artist said, reaching for the blue. “Trust, loyalty, wisdom, and truth.” She gave my hair a sideways glance. “It’s calming.”

Pierce threaded his fingers through one of my escaped curls. “That’s my plan.”

Siofra smirked. The artist nodded to herself. “With a white band for you, miss, in exact balance with his black.”