Trust her? He trusted no one. The only thing he had faith in was his horse, his sword and the arm that wielded it.

«Have ye charmed me?» He could not think of a time when she could have unless it was when he first saw her face. Conn closed his eyes as if to look inside his mind for the chains that linked him to her. She shook her head. He was in full control of his senses.

«’Tis your honour that bids you stay, naught else,» she said as if she could read his thoughts. «Ye can not leave a woman to fend for herself, even though ye know that I am Sidh. Why is that?»

Her quicksilver eyes searched his face, daring him to let her inside his thoughts. He would not allow it so he turned away from her and once more looked to the isle although he did not see it. What he did see was a horrible memory.

He could still see their bodies and feel the flames. His mother and his two sisters, brutalized before they were thrown into the fire to die. Because there was no man there to defend them. How could this Sidh woman know such things about him, about his past? How could he put such thoughts into words? The memories were too horrible, too near.

«Could you fend for yourself?» He growled the words, doubtful of her answer.

«Would my answer change yours? If I told you that I may wield a sword as easily as a man would ye leave me to my fate? If my reply was that I am at his mercy would ye give up your life in an attempt to save mine?» She stood at the edge of the surf with her hair flying about her. She turned her quicksilver eyes upon him. «I will not answer yea or nay so that ye may not cry out that I tricked you.»

«If I am dead what will it matter?»

She pulled back the hair that tossed across her face and held it there so that her gaze was unfettered. «It will matter to me.»

There were more things he should ask her. There were things he should know about the enemy that would come. He should not trust her yet she said he must to survive the coming battle. All these thoughts he pushed from his head. Instead he put his arm about her waist and pulled her to him. She felt as light as the night air, yet solid in her strength, like the blade he bore in his other hand. He cared naught for that at the moment. If he were to die, then he would know in the next few moments what he was to die for.

She offered him no resistance. She stared at him with her quicksilver eyes as her hair flew about their bodies as if to wrap them into a cocoon. A slight smile twisted her lips. She moved as he did, each turning their head towards a kiss. He was gentle at first, testing her and she complied. He moved his hand up to her head and wrapped his sword arm around her back, pulling her fully against him. Her arms twined about his neck and the kiss turned from gentle question to answering need.

Another battle cry from Balor met his ears but he ignored it. His time to fight would come soon enough. For Conn there was nothing else but this instant, with this woman.

Aine well knew his intent. It was always the intent of men to possess her. Yet this man, at this time, was different. He did not want her for her powers or because he thought she was the key to a great treasure. He just wanted her for her. Because he was alone and about to face death and he wanted to know that life was worth the living. He wanted her because he was a man and she was a woman. It was the most basic of needs that blurred the lines between human and Fae.

Aine decided not to think on it. She decided just to feel. His lips moved against hers, his tongue probed her mouth and she let him in. She felt the pressure of his sword hilt in the small of her back and his shaft rubbing against her belly. She ground her hips against his and he growled, low in his throat. He picked her up without breaking the kiss and carried her to the cloak she’d left lying by the fire.

Conn buried his sword, blade first into the sand. He stood over her, tall and wide of shoulder, narrow of waist and hip. His dark hair shadowed his face as he looked down at her with the firelight reflecting in his eyes. Behind him the lightning flashed across the sky and Balor once more screamed his horrible cry. His muscular thighs flexed as he knelt before her. She rose up to meet him and he lifted the hem of his tunic to pull it over her head.

Her body was not a mystery to him. He had seen her before when he pulled her from the surf, had even placed his chainse upon her body after taking it from his own. Still he looked at her, his eyes sweeping her from head to toe as she once more lay back on the blanket in the sand.

He took off his jerkin and set it aside to expose his deeply muscular chest and the deep clefts of his stomach. She was not surprised when he left his gauntlets and chausses in place. He would not be caught unready should any happen upon them. His eyes covered her, ravaged her until he lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms. She was prepared for him to conquer her in the way that most warriors would. She was not ready for the gentle and tender possession of his arms about her, nor the way his lips softly touched hers.

He kept his eyes open while he kissed her and she saw that they were a deep shade of blue, like the sea on a stormy day. It was strange, gazing into his eyes. She could not have stopped, or closed her own, as they seemed to hold her captive while his arms gave her opportunity to escape, if she desired it.

She did not. She desired more. More of him, more of his kisses, more of his hands roaming her back and side, yet aching with need as he cupped her breast and rubbed his thumb over the peak of her nipple. She gasped against his mouth and arched into his palm while her hips moved closer against him and begged him for more. He shut his eyes, finally, as if falling into a dream, and slowly trailed kisses down her neck. His hair brushed against her skin, guiding the way for his mouth, until she thought she would combust with need. His lips touched her breast and drove her body to a greater desire.

Was she wrong about him? Was he more than a man? More than a mortal? For surely no mortal could send her into this boiling cauldron of want. This was something she’d never felt before and all she could do was wrap her hands in his hair, close her eyes and hold on.

His hand trailed over her stomach and her muscles clenched at his touch as anticipation filled her. He splayed his big hand into the hollow of it, the width of his fingers spread wide enough to cover her from side to side. She spread her legs, willing him and wanting him to touch her, there, in that place that brought the dancing of stars across the sky. His thumb dipped into her folds and she sighed deeply and hooked her leg around his hip.

He watched her. She opened her eyes to see his eyes on her. A quick smile flitted across his face as he looked at her and she wondered, briefly, what it would be like to see him laugh. Then he dipped his fingers inside of her and all thoughts fled her mind save one: I want him.

Her hips rose to meet his hand.

«Aine,» he said and took his hand away. She reached for him. His hands were at his waist, removing his chausses and she helped him, slipping them down and freeing him.

The gentleness left him then. He pulled back and pushed inside her, until he was buried and his pelvis ground against her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and raked her nails down his back and held on. He kissed her again, desperately. He pulled her lower lip into his teeth. She rocked against him, with him. He released her lip and buried his head into her neck. Her eyes were open and she saw the sky, clear now, and the stars like pinpricks in the heavens above. She kept her eyes on them until they began to swirl and she knew if she reached up her hand, she could touch them. She gathered a handful, wrapped her arms around Conn’s waist and held on as the brilliance of the stars blinded her.

Aine’s fingers gently traced a pattern on the small of his back as Conn lay atop her and gathered his strength. The base of his spine tingled where she touched him. He understood now why men lost their souls in pursuit of a Sidh woman. He’d never experienced a release such as the one just past. He felt blinded from it, as if he’d looked directly at the sun. It was strange, the feeling of disquiet, mixed with something he could only call contentment. If only he could stay in her arms for the rest of the night, nay, for the rest of his life.

Balor’s battle cry, drifting once more across the water, reminded him that he could not. Without a word, he rose, adjusted his chausses, and handed his chainse to Aine before he went to his stallion. Niul lowered his head and Conn leaned his brow against it in silent communication with the one who had been his dearest companion.

He heard her movement behind him, felt her silent footsteps in the sand. She touched the small of his back once more. «How long have you had this mark?» Her question surprised him. Conn glanced over his shoulder and saw that she had wrapped his cloak about her body. The wind held a bite to it. He should build up the fire while he had the chance.

«Of what mark do you speak?» he asked. «Is it a scar?» He knew of none in that location. He had several, however, all souvenirs of his many battles, but none in the small of his back.

«Nay.» She traced it once more with her fingers. «’Tis like mine,» she said and dipped her shoulder to show him the blue interlocking lines upon her back.

Conn’s hand went to his back. «I have no mark,» he said.

«Ye do.» Her eyes did not lie, yet it had to be so. He would know if he had a mark. He twisted around in an attempt to see for himself of what she spoke but his body would not bend to suit his desire.