father, he could. It is the twenty first century.”
“That it is,” Liam agrees, his words amiable, his tone light, but something in his eyes grew dull and the sparkle ebbs for a moment. “Do you have another father, then?”
“Dad had a lover —” Jen began, but then stops herself. “I never met him. They were together before me, and after …” she trails off and shrugs. “They’d meet up now and again, out this way, but I never knew him.”
“Eventually David’s desire to be a father overrode all other loves,” Liam says gravely. “I pushed too hard.”
Jen snaps her gaze up to his face. “How did you know my father’s name?”
“The Lord of Carterhaugh?” he mocks. “Everyone knew him. Or of him, at least.”
Jen groans. “That old acorn? Really?”
“So you do know the gossip?” The glimmer returns to Liam’s eyes.
Jen rolls her own.
Liam presses her close against his chest, his green gaze intent as he studies her face, sweeping down to take in the roses in her cheeks, the red blush on her chest. “The song, the fairy tale, it’s famous. Everyone knows how my story began. But the rest of it?”
“What the old ditties in town say? About father being the last heir of Margaret and Tam Lin?”
“Well, that would actually make you the last heir now, wouldn’t it?” Liam says.
Jen pauses, startled by the realization that he is correct. She’s never thought of it like that before. The superstitious old folks always talk of boys when they make mention of fae lovers in the woods, of traditions and cutting the corners off houses to leave room for fairy paths, of bowls of milk and honey-soaked bread left out for the kind folk. Or at least to bribe them to remain kind.
“I suppose,” Jen allows.
“It is the twenty first century after all,” Liam mocks.
Jen scowls. “Not that it matters. They’re just stories .”
“Ah, but stories hold a truth. And what about you, my darling Jennet? Am I the only man in your life? In your bed?”
Jen jerks out of his grip. “How can you ask that? I’ve been dating you, only you!”
Liam smiles. “I have not asked you for monogamy. It is the twenty first century.”
“Well, I’m not poly,” Jen says.
“So then it is up to me,” Liam replies darkly and reaches for her again, burying his nose in the damp strands of her hair. “I’m sure I can get you with child.”
“I’m sure you can’t,” Jen says, grabbing the small tender hairs at the back of his neck and tugging hard, forcing him to meet her eyes. “And I think you need to slow the hell down. We’ve just established that you’re not fucking human . That you’re what, a fairy?”
“Fae-touched, please,” he corrects with a moue of distaste. “I was not born so cruel.”
“ Fae-touched , whatever that means, so I think you can hold the hell up on the kids talk.”
Liam grinds his hips forward, and Jen wouldn’t be human if she didn’t admit it got her a little hot under the collar.
“Why? You want me, and it’s very easy to do. Your father managed an heir. Surely you could.”
“It’s not that easy,” Jennet deflects. She presses her lips to his neck, tasting sweat and bath soap and well water.
“Sure it is,” Liam says with a grin. “Just lie back and think of Carterhaugh.”
“Shut up, Liam,” Jen says and reaches down to tug on the belt of his robe, spreading the halves and pressing into the warmth between them. “Just can the kids talk. It’s not erotic.”
Liam inhales heavily through his nose, animalistic, strong, so damn hot , but then he ruins it by biting her lobe and saying, “But don’t you want my children, Jennet? I will fill you with my seed, I will fuck a baby into you and our son will be beautiful.”
Jennet shoves him back so hard, so full of disgust, that he actually ricochets off of one of the wingback chairs. It falls over, whacking the wall, and one of the brandy snifters topples, smashing on the hearth and spilling alcohol
“That it is,” Liam agrees, his words amiable, his tone light, but something in his eyes grew dull and the sparkle ebbs for a moment. “Do you have another father, then?”
“Dad had a lover —” Jen began, but then stops herself. “I never met him. They were together before me, and after …” she trails off and shrugs. “They’d meet up now and again, out this way, but I never knew him.”
“Eventually David’s desire to be a father overrode all other loves,” Liam says gravely. “I pushed too hard.”
Jen snaps her gaze up to his face. “How did you know my father’s name?”
“The Lord of Carterhaugh?” he mocks. “Everyone knew him. Or of him, at least.”
Jen groans. “That old acorn? Really?”
“So you do know the gossip?” The glimmer returns to Liam’s eyes.
Jen rolls her own.
Liam presses her close against his chest, his green gaze intent as he studies her face, sweeping down to take in the roses in her cheeks, the red blush on her chest. “The song, the fairy tale, it’s famous. Everyone knows how my story began. But the rest of it?”
“What the old ditties in town say? About father being the last heir of Margaret and Tam Lin?”
“Well, that would actually make you the last heir now, wouldn’t it?” Liam says.
Jen pauses, startled by the realization that he is correct. She’s never thought of it like that before. The superstitious old folks always talk of boys when they make mention of fae lovers in the woods, of traditions and cutting the corners off houses to leave room for fairy paths, of bowls of milk and honey-soaked bread left out for the kind folk. Or at least to bribe them to remain kind.
“I suppose,” Jen allows.
“It is the twenty first century after all,” Liam mocks.
Jen scowls. “Not that it matters. They’re just stories .”
“Ah, but stories hold a truth. And what about you, my darling Jennet? Am I the only man in your life? In your bed?”
Jen jerks out of his grip. “How can you ask that? I’ve been dating you, only you!”
Liam smiles. “I have not asked you for monogamy. It is the twenty first century.”
“Well, I’m not poly,” Jen says.
“So then it is up to me,” Liam replies darkly and reaches for her again, burying his nose in the damp strands of her hair. “I’m sure I can get you with child.”
“I’m sure you can’t,” Jen says, grabbing the small tender hairs at the back of his neck and tugging hard, forcing him to meet her eyes. “And I think you need to slow the hell down. We’ve just established that you’re not fucking human . That you’re what, a fairy?”
“Fae-touched, please,” he corrects with a moue of distaste. “I was not born so cruel.”
“ Fae-touched , whatever that means, so I think you can hold the hell up on the kids talk.”
Liam grinds his hips forward, and Jen wouldn’t be human if she didn’t admit it got her a little hot under the collar.
“Why? You want me, and it’s very easy to do. Your father managed an heir. Surely you could.”
“It’s not that easy,” Jennet deflects. She presses her lips to his neck, tasting sweat and bath soap and well water.
“Sure it is,” Liam says with a grin. “Just lie back and think of Carterhaugh.”
“Shut up, Liam,” Jen says and reaches down to tug on the belt of his robe, spreading the halves and pressing into the warmth between them. “Just can the kids talk. It’s not erotic.”
Liam inhales heavily through his nose, animalistic, strong, so damn hot , but then he ruins it by biting her lobe and saying, “But don’t you want my children, Jennet? I will fill you with my seed, I will fuck a baby into you and our son will be beautiful.”
Jennet shoves him back so hard, so full of disgust, that he actually ricochets off of one of the wingback chairs. It falls over, whacking the wall, and one of the brandy snifters topples, smashing on the hearth and spilling alcohol
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