A Faerie Fated Forever Read Online Free PDF Page A

before she cast the spell to throw off his balance. He died from the fall and gave her the status that the arrogant laird deemed safe. The fool should have realized long ago that widows also come in the black variety.
    She would succeed where the others failed. Once they wed, and she had Kilcuillin and the faerie flag, she could cease brewing the potion. Marriage would bind him and she would no longer have to suffer any man’s pawing. Once she got her hands on that faerie flag, the power that she desired above all else would be hers.
    She finished just as the knock sounded at the door. She glanced down at the gossamer gown she wore and deemed it sufficient. She arranged herself before the fire, aware that in its light the sheer fabric would cast wicked red highlights, enhancing rather than obscuring the curve of her breasts.
    “ Thig a stigh,” come in, she called.
    “ Beannachid de,” hello, said the man who stood at the door, unaware that he was a fly, being lured to a carefully constructed web.
    The sight of her bounty, enhanced by the gossamer kindled his gaze as soon as he entered. He couldn’t tear his attention from the breasts that peaked as his eyes caressed them.
    “They won’t help you close the door.”
    “What?” He reddened as he realized he had left the portal wide open.
    “Hello, Laird Maclee.” She approached carrying the goblets she had filled moments earlier. “Would you join me in a glass of wine?”
    He glanced at the two full goblets. Had he been expected? He had given her no warning that he would seek her out tonight. Normal caution would have had him turn down the brew, but she stood a step away clad only in a sparkling red shadow, looking hotter than the fire. Her attention fixed voraciously on his tenting kilt. Thrown off balance, he took the beverage and began to drink.
    “Please, have a seat. Tell me, did you come in pursuit of livelier game before you are cornered by the little mouse?” She sat down slowly in a black chair across from him and casually threw a leg over each arm of the chair, spreading her furry black mons for his eager inspection.
    “You know about the party, and Heather?” Her pointed comment surprised him and inspired another of those strange urges to defend the lass. As much to keep his mouth shut as anything, he gulped the rest of the brew.
    She got up to refill his goblet. “Everyone but you knew. If the elders could, they would wrap you and,” she reached between his thighs to tweak his erection, “tie this up in a pretty little bow and feed it to the mouse.”
    She released his member, trailing long nails down the length of it through the kilt, before she returned to her chair.
    “Shall you let them?” She asked.
    “Ahh, what?” He'd lost all grasp of the conversation. His eyes were glued to her breasts, so she got up and walked near him to top off his goblet again. He didn’t want more wine, but he wanted those breasts closer. Like a green lad he could only stare at her erect nipples. One long black lock brushed his forearm as she poured and he quivered slightly and pressed his thighs together.
    He reached for her when she turned to go back to her chair. “Would you like to spend the evening talking about another woman, or could we move on to more stimulating activities?”
    She smiled and crooked a finger as she moved toward the bed. He followed, unsure why he felt he had to obey the unspoken command. He didn’t ponder long because his little head ruled his body right now and thinking was not that head’s preference. It invariably sought a more physical game.
    She spread herself like a feast for his ravenous appetite. When he would have joined her on the bed, however, she shook her head no. “I’m not the only one who likes a good view, laird. You’ve been looking a lot since you arrived.”
    He flushed, because he knew he’d been leering like a lad about to take his first woman. Oddly, he started removing his kilt before he questioned why he