Love Talker's Daughter

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Morgan stared at the young man standing in the clump of trees, her father’s pipe sliding in her dampened hands. Even though tears blurred her vision, she could see he didn’t belong here. He looked as though he'd stepped out of one of her father's paintings of fairies and fantasy creatures.

Thoughts of her father sent a wave a pain through her heart, and she choked back a sob. When would this overwhelming grief pass?

Minutes ticked by as they continued their staring battle, neither one seeming to want to yield to the other. Morgan’s gaze drifted over him, appraising him as she determined whether to flee or stay. Tall, a good foot taller than her five-foot two, the stranger appeared lean and strong. Black hair brushed the collar of his shirt. He dressed as if her were attending the local Renaissance Faire, making her wonder if one of the actors had become lost again. With their woods bordering those of the Faire, it happened several times a summer. In fact, she’d already seen a handful of Faire goers this year.

The young man studied her as openly as she had him. More time passed, with neither saying anything. Morgan considered leaving, but she couldn't. Something about him made her want to speak to him, to hear his voice. Besides, it would be rude to ignore him, and her parents had raised her too properly to forget her manners.

Another wave of anguish rolled over her and she closed her eyes, willing the pain and tears away.

“You shouldn't be here,” she said, her voice raw with choked emotion. “You're trespassing.”

She stared at him, wondering what he would do. A flash of surprise and curiosity flickered across his face. He stepped out of the trees and she shrank back on the stump, her eyes riveted on the bejeweled hilt of a sword hanging at his waist. She raised her gaze back to his and drowned in his sapphire blue eyes. A feeling of home, belonging, and something she couldn't name settled over her.

He tipped his head to the side and smiled slightly. “You see me?”

His accent made her think of the green hills of Ireland, and, even though she knew it was insane, she desperately wanted to hear him speak again.

“Of course I can. Why? Did you think you were invisible?”

“Well, mayhap, but that would be lunacy, would it not, m'lady?” His lips curved in a hint of a smile that made her long for the real thing.

Morgan bit back a sigh. His voice tugged at her heart, made her long for starlit nights and stolen kisses. Her cheeks warmed at the errant thought, and she looked away. What on earth was wrong with her today? It wasn’t like her to think of stars and stolen kisses. She was much too rooted in the real world for flights of fancy.

Logic dictated that clearly he was a lost player or Faire goer, and he was trespassing. But she didn't want him to leave yet. She couldn't explain her sudden attraction to this stranger, but he tugged at something deep inside her, as if he was a missing part of her.

“It would be, unless you were Fae. Then perhaps it would be possible.” Her lips twitched as she fought to hide a smile.

His brows shot up, his blue eyes sparkling like the ocean in bright sunlight. “Ye believe in the Fae?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. I mean, it’s hard not to after hearing my father’s stories growing up.” A twinge of sorrow settled over her. She stood and wrapped her arms around her waist, desperately trying to hold herself together. “I'd like you to leave now. You aren't that far from the Faire. If you head to the south about a hundred yards you'll find the tents for the players.”

“Faire?” He shook his head. “I do not understand.”

She rolled her eyes but stepped closer, as if drawn to him by invisible thread. The scent of damp earth and pine surrounded her, and she breathed deeply. Intoxicating. She shook her head, reminding herself all the reasons she couldn't go with him. The fact he was a stranger leading the list.

“The Renaissance Faire. It isn't that far, and you won't get lost. Just head that way.” She waved her recorder toward the wood. He looked as if she'd hit his puppy. “Look, I'd really like to be alone, so if you'd just leave, I'd really appreciate it.”

He bowed. “Of course, m'lady. ’Tis as ye desire.” He took a step back, then stopped. “Might I ask something afore I depart?”

She hesitated, as if her body somehow knew whatever he asked would change things. “What?”

“The music you played ’twas beautiful, but full of so much pain. What has made you so sad, mo chroì?”

My heart.

When he spoke the simple endearment, the tears she'd kept at bay toppled over and ran down her cheeks. The stranger gasped and stepped forward. Morgan shook her head and ran from the woods, the hundred feet of lawn she crossed feeling like miles.

An eternity later, which in reality was probably more like a minute, she finally reached the door of the simple Cape Cod and stumbled inside. Her footsteps echoed through the empty house as she ran up the stairs to her room. Sobbing, she threw herself across the neatly made bed and gave into the tears she'd held at bay for weeks.