Chapter 95

When Aldara opened her eyes, it was nearly an hour after she'd woken the first time and she was lying in a heap on Marc's chest. She'd either fallen asleep or passed out - she had no idea which. The sex had been that intense. While she had no firsthand experience to tell her that wasn't always the case, somehow she didn't think it was. She was a lucky woman indeed to have a man like Marc be her first. No matter what else happened between them, he'd given her memories to last a lifetime.
Marc's breathing was still deep and even beneath her cheek so she guessed he'd fallen asleep as well. She paused a moment to take in the simple pleasure of waking up - again - with her lover. His chest was covered with a thick mat of golden curls, as were his arms and legs. In his human form he had only a light dusting on his chest and legs, she remembered. She looked forward to exploring him in that form as well.
"Good morning...again."
Aldara lifted her head to see him smiling at her, his golden eyes crinkled at the corners. "It's nearly afternoon."
"Does it matter?" He pulled her up his chest for a kiss, brief but thorough. "We're not going anywhere until evening."
She giggled and rolled to the side, sitting on the bed next to him. "Except, perhaps, into the shower. I seem to be a mite...sticky...this morning."
"I wonder how that happened." Marc's laugh rumbled in his chest as he stood and stretched, the feathered tips of his wings brushing the ceiling before he held out a hand to help Aldara from the bed. "Come on, blackbird. Time to get clean."
She grinned up at him as she took his hand and let him tug her to her feet. She hadn't felt so young, so carefree in...forever. The momentum of the pull brought her flush against his chest and she burrowed her face in the mat of tawny curls for a moment. Already his winged, leonine gargoyle form seemed natural to her but she hadn't really had much chance to explore his uniqueness.
"I saw the shower last night," she remarked, reaching a hand behind his back to stroke one feathered wing. The plumage wasn't as soft as her own, more eagle-like than her ravenesque feathering. "Wise of you to have built it large enough for an entire football team."
"What do you know about football?" he taunted, ruffling her hair. His tail came up to tickle the backs of her calves and she giggled.
"Football. You play with goal nets and a black and white ball. Popular all over the world." She snaked a hand down to grab the furry tuft on the tip of his tail. It was strong, ropy muscle covered by a coat of fur with a tassel on the end that matched his hair - or mane. His skin was a rich shimmer of golden brown tones. She imagined that when he was solid stone, he would be tiger's eye quartz.
"Ah. Soccer. Real football is played with an oval pigskin and lots of padding." They both knew what the other was talking about - that was part of what made the teasing fun. "Besides, hockey is a much better sport than either."
"Typical Canadian." She tugged on his tail. "Anyway, I was complimenting your foresight in building an oversized shower. There's plenty of room for both of us in there even with your big wings hogging the space."
"Well, I did have the wings in mind when I designed it," he admitted, giving her a little push toward the bathroom but making no move to pull his tail out of her hand. "No interest in the football team though, European or American. Just one small, winged female."
"Ha!" Marc crowed over the screen of his laptop computer a few hours later. "I found you."
"I'm right here across the table from you - I wasn't trying to hide," she teased, looking up from the book she was reading. After their shower they'd enjoyed a leisurely brunch on his deck. Now that it was daylight, she could really see the house and the island he'd claimed as his retreat. The man had wonderful taste - and he tasted good as well, though she had yet to really taste him. She was looking forward to experimenting with that.
"I meant, I found a report of you missing," he said. "The cruise ship Aegean Star docked in Halifax early this morning. When they set sail again, one of the crew had apparently gone missing - a singer in one of the nightclubs, Miss Aldara Cromlech of Stone Island, Greece."
"Stone Island," she mused. "Yes, that's it. It's a tiny island, even smaller than this one, where I grew up. Geraint named it in English since that was the native language of his wife. She died before he found me."
"The ship left Halifax but we can call the cruise offices. Either they can ship your things to you or we can get someone to meet the boat down in Maine at their next port of call. I imagine your passport and clothing have been boxed up and stored somewhere."
"Everything I own was on that ship," she told him, chewing on a thumbnail. "Clothes, books, mementos. And there was something else - something that's been nagging at the back of my mind since I woke up this morning. I think the Fates may have had a hand in our meeting, Marc. I remembered why I was on my way to North America and I think it was to find you."
"Me?" He flipped the lid to his laptop down and leaned his elbows on the table as he looked at her. "Why?"
"Geraint asked me to do one last favor for him before he died. He collected antiques but there was one thing that he never displayed, always kept locked in a safe in his den. He told me a few days before his death it was an artifact his father had stolen. He'd always meant to return it to his father's former clan but he never did. I guess there was some pretty bad blood between the Cromlechs and whomever was in charge back in Montreal. But the guilt weighed on him and he begged me to return the crown to its rightful owner. Once we retrieve my belongings, would it be possible for you to take me to Quebec, so I can give it to your ruler?"
Marc shook his head, an enigmatic grin playing across his slightly leonine features. "Of course - I should have known. We can go as soon as we collect your things. Though it's not the way I imagined taking you home to meet my mother."