Yuletide Enchantment (12 page)

Isobel was restless. She could not dance, because she couldn’t concentrate on keeping time. She had no desire to sing carols, or sip a cup of wassail by the Christmas tree. Her insides were in knots and she didn’t know why.

The room was stuffy, and she was hot. Gliding over to the terrace doors, she opened them and slipped outside. The night air was cold and crisp. Snow gently fell, and the skies were black except for the moon and the bright dot that was the Christmas Star.

Inhaling deeply, Isobel brought the cold air into her lungs. It soothed her, cleared her mind, and settled her jumbled nerves. Closing her eyes, she made a silent wish for a miracle that would save her from having to marry the Earl of St. Clair.

Opening her eyes, she blinked; there was something in the distance, moving through the snow. It was not the white stag she had seen so often on these grounds, but a figure of a man walking towards her.

Rubbing her hands down her chilled arms, she watched the man’s approach. He was exceptionally tall and broad. His hair was black, and he was dressed in a kilt and white cotton shirt. A thick black belt encompassed his waist, and from a loop hung a leather pouch. A triscale was embossed in the leather, and as he steadily climbed the four stairs that led to her, Isobel realized that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

“Isobel.”

Daegan watched in horror as Isobel cocked her head to the side and studied him. She didn’t remember him. How was he to explain that she was his wife? That he had once been immortal, but was now mortal?

“Isobel?
Mo muirnín?
”

“Daegan?” she asked slowly, almost disbelievingly.

He ran to her and lifted her up. “You remember.”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Cailleach said she stole from you any memory of me.”

“I made a wish,” she said, looking up at the sky. “I asked for a miracle so I wouldn’t have to marry St. Clair, and then you arrived.”

“And here I am. In the flesh. Literally.”

“Come with me,” she commanded, taking his hand and pulling him behind her. “We can be alone in my room.”

Together they slipped unseen through the servants’ door at the side of the house. Quietly they climbed the stairs and entered the family’s private wing without being seen.

When they reached Isobel’s chamber she turned and kissed him. “You are a miracle—you know that?”

He smiled and lifted his hand to her cheek. He was still wearing the white scrap of fabric around his wrist. “Together forever,” he said huskily, following her gaze.
“Anam a Anam.”

“Soul to soul,” she whispered, opening the door and pulling him inside. “I love you, Daegan. You must know how much I do.”

“I am no longer a Sidhe, Isobel,” he murmured as she cupped his face in her hands. “Your great white hart will never be again.”

She looked at him quizzically, and Daegan hung his head, not knowing what ruled him, shame or the fear she would reject him. “I am mortal now.”

She rained kisses upon his cheeks before whispering, “I don’t care. It’s only you I want, Daegan. The man who makes me feel whole. The man who made love to me.”

He closed his eyes, love overpowering him. “I do not deserve you.” She laughed and kissed him. “I do not deserve the sacrifices you have made for me. But I am human, and I’m too selfish to wish I had never seen you or given my body to you. I wanted you, from that first moment in the woods when you smiled at me.”

“I enchanted the pin so you would come back to me. I used magic to entice you.”

“Do you think some spell held me enthralled?” she laughed, lying back on her bed and pulling him atop her. “It was you, Daegan. Your eyes, your voice. It wasn’t the magic in the pin that had me returning to you. But you.”

His expression softened. “I want nothing more than to make love to you. But I cannot, not until you know the whole truth.”

“We’re not married?” she asked, her voice faltering.

Daegan’s eyes darkened. “Our lanamnas is binding, whether in your world or the Otherworld. We are married. But”—he trailed his fingers over her belly, his fingertip circling around her navel through her gown—“you should know that Cailleach has cursed me, and my curse will affect you.”

He swallowed hard as her big blue eyes clouded with anxiety. “Our son,” he murmured, glancing at her belly, “he will be taken from us so that he cannot assume the throne of the Sidhe or rule alongside the goddess in Annwyn.”

Her hand flew to her belly, covering his. “Am I with child?”

He kissed her stomach, wishing it was her soft skin. “I do not know. But I would never want such a thing to happen to any child we might have. I could not bear to see you hurt, Isobel. To see my child ripped from your arms. I have enough magic left in me to perform one more thing, but you will be the one to choose.”

He kissed her again and brushed his lips in her hair, inhaling her scent. The animal within him still lingered, heightening his senses. He couldn’t imagine not smelling Isobel as keenly as he did now. Didn’t want to imagine the day when his senses dulled and he could no longer hear her heart beating or smell her arousal blooming like a field of heather.

“Daegan?”

“Your father’s contract with St. Clair. There is still a chance you will be forced to wed the earl.”

She gripped his hand. “No!”

“I could, with magic, make him consent to our match, but that will use the last of my magical stores.” He glanced at her stomach and brushed his hand down the silk. “Or I could cast a spell now, to protect our son and his firstborn son and all the other firstborn males of our line. He would be protected from Cailleach’s curse and safe from her hands. If I do this, I cannot use magic to make your father give me your hand in marriage.”

“We’ll run away,” she said, sitting up. “We’ll go far away from my father’s clutches.”

“We will have to make a new home. Without his consent, we could not stay here, and I cannot go back to Annwyn.”

“I don’t care,” she said, holding on to him. “Please, Daegan, protect our son.”

“The future will be uncertain, Isobel. I will have to learn to walk in the mortal realm. I will have to learn the ways of man in order to provide for you.”

“I trust you, Daegan. I have faith in you. I have faith in us.”

Gently he laid her back on the bed and crawled atop her, kissing her eyelids, her nose, her chin. He made his way to her throat, then the valley of her breasts. He undid her gown and pulled it from her body. His fingers skimmed over her nipples, which hardened at his touch. When his lips caressed her bare stomach, her muscles quivered, gooseflesh spread out, and he traced the path with his thumb. Over her womb, he whispered the magical words that would save his son from Cailleach’s wrath.

“It’s done,” he said, “the Bocan will be forever with him and his son and his son.”

“What is the Bocan?” she asked as he slid up beside her.

“A shadow wraith. The Bocan will be bound to him, and when another male child is born, a new wraith will be formed to protect him.”

“Oh, Daegan, you truly are my Christmas miracle.”

“And you, Isobel MacDonald, are my Yuletide enchantment.”

Sophie Renwick
is a registered nurse and also the author of
Mists of Velvet
and
Velvet Heaven
in the Annwyn Chronicles.