It was three long days before she opened the book again.
Three very long days filled with distracting thoughts of out worldly eyes looking at her with desire. Two very long nights crammed full of memories of impossible pleasure that tempted her to move past fear and disturbed her sleep.
On the third night, after slipping into her second favorite old t shirt turned night gown, the first having disappeared sometime earlier in the week, she slipped under the covers to attempt to ignore temptation and get some sleep. She tossed and turned for an hour she before she gave up, threw back the blanket and marched to the closest. The book sat right where she'd left it. She stared at it for a minute and then reached out to pull the feather down. The colors mingled and separated as she turned it in her fingers. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest.
What if it's true? She stepped closer to the shelf. What if it's more than a dream and he's really trapped in there?
But how could it be? Magic isn't real.
Is it?
Before she could change her mind she set the feather aside and grabbed the book. Her fingers traced the battered leather cover as she walked back to the bed and set it on the night stand. She flipped the cover open quickly and whispered. "Alasdair?"
She was pushed back as he appeared in front of her. "By the stars lass, I thought you were going to leave me there and forget about me."
He was dressed this time. Well sort of. A wide piece of fabric circled his hips. "Is that a —." She stopped. The right word just lost in her jumbled thoughts.
"A plaid. Yes. My lords colours." She looked up him. He was staring at her intently. "Have you forgiven me for the way I treated you?"
"I thought I'd imagined you." The desire shining in his icy blue eyes froze her breath in her lungs.
"Still think it was a dream?" She nodded slightly, unable to look away from his eyes. "It's not a dream lass. You know what I must do."
"I think so."
He stepped closer to her tugging at the plaid, letting it fall to his feet, stepping over it to reach for her. She let him take her face in his hands frowning at the slight tremble of his fingers. "Tell me you forgive me." She nodded. "Say the words. I must know that you mean it."
"Why?"
"I may never be free and the thought of you hating me while I can do nothing to earn your forgiveness would torment me for eternity."
Her hands reached up to cover his. "I forgive you," she whispered with a little smile.
His face lost some of it's tension at her admission. "Thank you." He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her against the wall. "Gods lass, I could think of nothing but the feel of you these last few days." She gasped as he pushed inside her.
He could have taken more time with her, the spell was no where near it's full blown agony but he really had been thinking about her for days. Wondering if she was angry with him, hoping he had done enough to make up for his violation of her body. Remembering her cries of pleasure, imagining her face, her touch.
No he couldn't have waited. He wanted her, needed her with an intensity that rivaled the power of the spell that bound him to his prison.
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For the first few weeks after she'd opened the book and discovered him they spent every night wrapped up in each other. Two damaged lonely souls trying to soak up as much passion as they could, living in the moment determined to enjoy the fire between them while they had the chance.
The frenzied edges started to soften once they'd shared several weeks tucked away in her bedroom pretending the world didn't exist. Tentatively they started exploring more than more than just each other's bodies. The inquiries were teasing in the beginning, fun get to know you kinds of questions, until after a month of rolling around naked playfully asking silly things he brought up the one subject she'd been hoping to avoid.
She was straddling his lap, clinging to him, trying to catch her breath after yet another toe curling orgasm. He was stroking her back and legs memorizing her body again, like he'd been doing every night since they'd first come together.
"Lass." He said with a smile. "How is it that there's no husband here trying to pull your wicked faerie away from you?" She went silent and so still that he tried to lean back to look at her. Her hands flattened against his back. She pressed her face against his neck. "I meant no offence. I was just teasing you." She nodded. His arms wrapped around her. She mumbled something against his skin. "I'm sorry lass but I couldn't understand that."
She pulled away slightly. "I was married." Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. "He was killed." He hugged her tightly. "It was a few years ago, I suppose I should be over it by now."
"Oh lass. I'm sorry." His lips brushed her hair. "I lost my mate a few decades before I was trapped in the book but it still hurts."
"Did she die?"
"Killed by a rival house." Her hands tightened against his back. "All it did was generate sympathy for my family so whatever they were hoping to accomplish didn't happen."
"I'm sorry."
"My brothers and I made sure she was avenged." He gripped her thighs, stood and laid her on the bed.
"Did it help?"
"No lass. She is still gone." His fingertips brushed her jaw.
"Did you have children?" He shook his head. "We had just started trying when he died."
"You want children lass?"
She smiled. "I'd love to have a couple of little ones." She stared at his chest, embarrassed to be discussing such intimate things with him.
"Isabelle." Her gaze slid up to his face. "You will fall in love again someday and make beautiful babies."
She swallowed a lump in her throat. "That's sweet of you to say." Her voice faded to a whisper as his lips caressed hers. "This is enough for now."
He groaned sadly as he kissed her. "Lass. I'm sorry."
"It's alright."
"No, it's not. I feel like a monster."
"It's not your fault." She reached between them. "I'm guessing you wouldn't be asking for sex if it wasn't for that enchantment."
"It would be inappropriate." The muscles of his jaw tightened. The fingers of her free hand traced them lightly.
She lifted her hips to encourage him. The lines of his face sharpened for a moment, relaxing in increments as the pain started to recede.
"Have you had summoners that weren't so happy to have a dream faerie?"
His hips flexed and she almost forgot about her question. "Some thought I was a devil, others just a plaything."
