Though she intended to make certain Keegan spent most of his time with her and not in the west. His mother would go back there, as she would not be needed here.
Oh aye, Shana thought, she would see Tarryn sent back to the valley. She wouldn’t tolerate vying for attention with Keegan’s hawkeyed mother.
“I have a thirst for you.” She murmured it as she pressed against him. “And wine.” She laughed when she said it. “A cup of wine, then you. And you can enchant me, Loren of the Wise.”
He waved his arm, turned his hand—right, then left.
The door—always locked by his spell, as was all the cottage—opened.
“Pour the wine, mo chroí, and I’ll settle the horses. I want nothing more in my life than to enchant you.”
She walked inside, then moved elf fast to pour the wine, to add two drops—only two—of the sleeping potion she had in her pocket to his.
He would sleep minutes only, but she only needed minutes.
She glanced up at the loft that was his workshop, imagined it in her head from the memories of times he’d spun spells for her, or made her a pretty bauble.
Harmless things, of course, small things. Though he had considerable powers. And for the larger things, the less harmless, he kept a cupboard locked with another spell.
Only his hand could open it—and since she’d professed to love him, had pouted prettily that he didn’t love her enough to allow her to open the cupboard, her hand could do so now as well.
Taking love, to her mind, forged the keenest of weapons.
When he came in, she sent a beckoning look over her shoulder and strolled, with the wine, to his bedchamber.
She gave a little shiver. “Would you light the fire, mo leannán?”
He flicked his fingers, set the fire blazing. As he continued toward her, she shook her head. “Oh no, my golden god, I would have you disrobe.” She sipped from the cup in her right hand. “I would see what’s mine.”
When he simply snapped his fingers to send his clothes to the floor, she laughed. “I like what I see. Into the bed with you, as I will have you do my bidding.”
He stretched on the bed, one with posts tipped in gold, one she knew was thick and soft, as he liked fine things as she did.
“I’m your slave, now and always,” he told her.
She sipped more wine as she walked to the side of the bed. She set down her wine, handed him his. “Would you battle all my foes?” she asked as she took down her hair.
“Battle and defeat them, first to last.”
“And drape me in silks and satins and jewels?”
“All you want, and more.”
“Drink your wine, my slave, so I can soon taste it on your lips, your tongue.”
As he did, she unhooked her dress, let it fall so he could see she wore nothing but herself under it.
“Shana. You are a vision, a dream. And so wicked.”
She laughed, tossed back her hair. “You will lie still now, so I can have my way, so I can take my pleasure first while you wait.”
She crawled onto the bed, slid up him very slowly. With her eyes on him she used her tongue, her teeth, felt him ripple, pulse, strain for control.
“Wait and see.” She trailed her fingers up his sides. “See there is so much more we can do in a bed than…” She paused, her lips a breath from his. “Sleep.”
And with that word, and the two drops of potion, he slept.
She lifted the chain with the key from around his neck, raced from the room, up to the loft in a blur. Heart hammering, she laid her hand on the first of a trio of stars carved into the cupboard. Then to the first of the two moons, and last to smallest of a group of seven planets.
And when she fit the key in the lock, the doors opened for her.
She knew what she needed—she’d wheedled the spell out of him once when he’d been pliable from sex.
She gathered everything quickly—quickly, quickly. Such small amounts, she held certain he wouldn’t notice the difference.
She closed and locked the cupboard again, sped down to put everything in the bag waiting in the pocket of her discarded skirt.
Thrilled, excited now at the thought of what she would do, what she would gain, she lay over him again.
“Wake,” she whispered, and as he did, crushed her mouth to his.
His head spun, his mind clouded. His limbs felt oddly weak.
Then she rose up, straddled him, took him into her.
And nothing else existed for him.
* * *
More than an hour later, pleased, utterly relaxed, Shana rode back to the castle. Oh aye, she would absolutely keep Loren for her lover once she had her rightful place in Talamh.