Every waterfall, every pool, every stone.
There wasn’t a place here that didn’t conjure a memory of the past for Sorcha. All of them were good, causing her to smile and her eyes to water with unshed tears. This was the first time she had been alone at the pools since her family’s deaths, and it was just what she needed.
Sorcha walked to an outcropping of rock near the waterfall. She had jumped off it several times, but this time, she just wanted to sit and take it all in. With her feet dangling over the edge, she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the water moving past her to fall below. It drowned out any other sound.
For the first time in…ages…she let herself feel the magic that flowed through the pools. She didn’t know if it came up from the ground, from the mountains, or if it was the water. Not that it mattered. It was a special place for Druids.
Those on Skye had many rituals that began when a Druid turned twelve and was accepted into the assembly. It was a grand event that took place at the Fairy Pools. Other sacred rituals for Imbolc, the Spring Equinox, Beltane, the Summer Solstice, Lughnasadh, the Fall Equinox, Samhuinn, and finally, the Winter Solstice were held in other locations around Skye. The pools were also a place many Druids chose to be married.
Sorcha had dreamed of her wedding taking place at the pools. She hadn’t wanted anything grand, just lots of flowers and her family. Late July or August had been her preference since the heather would be blooming, and the purple flowers along the pools were spectacular.
What an incredible place the pools were. The sheer beauty of them, the land, the mountains, was enough to make anyone feel as if they had finally come home.
“Well, well, well,” said a deep voice tinged with an Irish accent behind her. “I didn’t expect to see anything more beautiful than the pools here. Then, I spotted you.”
Sorcha stiffened at the poor use of a pick-up line. She wasn’t in the mood for company. Not to mention, anything even remotely Irish raised her hackles. Without turning around, she said, “I want to be alone.”
“Ah, don’t do that to me. I could show you a good time.”
He’d come closer. She could feel him just a little behind her. If her legs weren’t dangling over a boulder next to a waterfall, she would’ve gotten up and left. But he had boxed her in. And he knew it.
Asshole.
She’d told him how she felt. Her next best option was to ignore him. Hopefully, he’d take the hint. But most guys weren’t that clever.
“It’s not nice to keep your back turned when someone is speaking with you,” he said, a hint of annoyance coloring his words.
Sorcha took a breath to keep her cool. “I appreciate your interest, but as I told you, I wish to be alone.”
To her shock, he sat down beside her. She jerked her head to him and saw his silver eyes, black hair, and stunningly gorgeous face and body. A Fae. Of course. It was just her luck that one of the assholes had chosen today to come to the pools. She really hoped Rhona and the other Druids had been alerted that a Fae was on Skye. It made her wonder why she hadn’t felt the spells signaling her. Then again, she hadn’t used magic in a decade. Perhaps this was the magic’s way of getting back at her.
He smiled. Most women would probably fall all over themselves to get his attention. But she wasn’t most women. Sorcha looked away, trying to figure out how she could jump up and get away without hurting her ankle or falling into the water.
“Not even a smile?” he said with a shake of his head. “You could at least ask my name.”
Sorcha had had enough. She bit back a wince when she quickly got her feet beneath her and stood. Pain shot up from her injured ankle through her leg, but she refused to favor it and show him any weakness. She would pay for it later, but every cell in her body yelled at her to get away as fast as she could.
She backed up several steps. “As I told you—twice—I want to be alone. You should get the hint when someone doesn’t want your attention.”
His smile vanished in an instant. One second, he was sitting. The next, he was before her. “And you shouldn’t be so mean. Do you know what I am?”
“I don’t give a damn who or what you are. I’m not interested.” She knew there was no way she could get away from the Fae. He had magic, more than she could ever think to have. He’d be on top of her before she could get a running start. Why the hell had she come out here alone?
The Fae’s silver eyes narrowed on her. “You look like someone who could use a good time. Come with me, and I’ll give you pleasure, unlike any you’ve experienced.”
“In your dreams.” Sorcha inwardly kicked herself. The last thing she should be doing is purposefully irritating the Fae, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
In slow motion, she saw his hands reach for her. Before she could shove them aside or turn away, she caught a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye. The Fae fell over the waterfall in the next instant.
Sorcha then found herself staring at the back of a very tall, very broad-shouldered man with long, black and silver hair tied at his neck in a queue. It couldn’t possibly be…. What were the odds that he’d be on Skye now?
Her mind froze, trying to come to terms with what she saw. Part of her wondered if she wanted this man to be the one from Ireland. Then she realized how stupid that sounded. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at his face.
No, but you sure as hell felt his body. His very hard, very amazing body.
The man didn’t turn to look at her. He walked to the edge of the waterfall and looked down before he jumped over the side. Unable to help herself, Sorcha rushed to edge and looked over to see the tall man beating the shite out of the Fae. The way the tall one moved, the way he had jumped over the side without hesitation, made her realize that he was Fae, as well. And with the silver in his hair, he was most likely Dark. The last thing she should do is get involved in any type of Fae dispute. Besides, the Druids would know about these two arriving. Perhaps she should get to Rhona and let her know exactly what had happened.
She glanced back to where her car was parked. It would take several minutes for her to get to her vehicle if she could run full out, and with her ankle, that wasn’t possible. But she didn’t want to wait around and find out who the man was. Did she?
The feel of the Irishman’s thick muscles beneath her palms made her glance down again. She really wanted to see his face, to know if he was the man who had helped her in Ireland. But if he was, then it was likely no coincidence that he was on Skye. The last thing she should do is get mixed up with anything like this. She turned around to walk a couple of steps away.
But she couldn’t leave. Her feet were rooted to the spot. She closed her eyes, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She was doing everything opposite of what she had for the past ten years. It was like going to Ireland had swung her life around one hundred and eighty degrees. And she wasn’t comfortable with it at all.
Her thoughts stilled as something hot and electric ran through her. It was the same sudden jolt that had gone through her in Ireland. Without looking behind her, she knew that the man was there. She could feel him.
For a full minute, neither said anything nor moved. Sorcha wasn’t sure what she should do. She could probably walk away, and the man wouldn’t say anything or even try to stop her. It would be the wise thing to do. The safe thing.