19 comments/ 20060 views/ 2 favorites Heart's Tempest By: LunaEroticaMystica Valentine's Day 2011 Entry. Please enjoy Reading, Voting, and Commenting. I hope it leaves you satisfied! ;) Thank you!!! * Each year around February 14th either found me feeling giddy with romantic notions or bitter with disillusionment. This year was a mixture of the two. A long, drawn out divorce had finally come to an end. I was free woman again! Gone was the negativity, gone the chaos, gone the lies, the manipulations, the thefts, the stories and childish fibs, gone the need to mother a grown man-child. I was also a lonely woman. This Valentine's Day was all about me, regaining my independence and celebrating my liberation! Only, well there was no one to celebrate with other than the cat. There was no way the bastard was going to get the cat out of the deal. I scooped up my gorgeous snow-shoe cat; with her white mitten paws, snowy fur, snowflake nose, chocolate-point features: raccoon mask, tipped ears and tail and breathed into her fur. "Ah Callieach, my little wintry goddess, how I love you." The affectionate cat bumped my nose with hers and meowed at me plaintively, displaying some of her Siamese genes. Obviously, someone was hungry. Taking her cue, I headed for the kitchen where I opened a can of wet cat food for her and poured it into her bowl on top of the dry kibble. She wound herself around my ankles rubbing against me, her motor emitting a loud, rumbling purr. "Do you want to be Mommy's Valentine this year? We'll get drunk on ice cream and watch sappy movies together." I snorted in laughter, startling the cat. "Yeah right! I'm no sap." I asserted to myself, glancing at the window over the sink seeing my reflection. Who was I kidding? I looked like hell! There were dark smudges under my eyes. My chestnut brown hair lay in a lackluster tangle on my shoulders, and I was paler than usual. No more crying: I had promised myself. I slid to the kitchen floor, hitched my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and gave in to the cleansing power of tears. Calliea padded over on silent mittens and put her front paws on my knees. "Meowma?" Her voice asked. "Momma's OK, sweetie." I assured her. Once she was satisfied, she hunched her lean frame and leaped onto the counter, putting her front paws in the sink. I watched her, getting quick glimpses of her pink tongue as it flicked in and out so fast as she drank the incessant drip from the faucet. It put me in mind of the study I had read online about the scientific research being done on how cats actually drink. Fascinating stuff. I had a feeling the cat wouldn't be too happy with me once I got a plumber over to fix the dripping. Aside from the annoyance of the noise, I hated wasting the water. I held onto the knob of the cabinet and pulled myself up. A glimmer out the window caught my eye. Snow! Snow had begun falling, just a light dusting of large flakes: the kind you can actually see the crystalline formation. The cat daintily removed her paws from the sink and started batting at the window trying to desperately catch the white flakes with her paws. I laughed at her and shook my head reaching past her and up into the cabinet for a mug. I plucked the tea kettle off the stove and poured myself a mug of hot water, adding a few scoop-fulls of cocoa to it, as I snatched the bag of marshmallows off the counter and dumped a few minis into the steaming cup. I set it on the edge and walked over to where my coat was hanging. I donned my coat, scarf, gloves, and hat and slipped my boots on, grabbed my mug of cocoa and sojourned out into the wind. As I slammed the door shut, I heard Calliea hiss at the indignation of her fur being ruffled by the wind. I ducked my head down and walked into the wind. It whipped against me and I had to brace myself as I walked the curve of my walkway to the back yard. The snow was beginning to pick up and I could see a coating of white shrouding the world. I shrugged and shivered, no plan in mind, only knowing that staying home cooped up on such a day as this was going to drive me crazy. I skirted around my snow covered fire pit and headed for the back woods. It was where I felt most at home. My multi-colored pavers were nearly invisible now. I was surprised with the speed at which the snow was falling. It was dusk and part of me thought maybe I should wait until morning for my little trek, but then I could already see the moon, wide and full and brilliant in the sky. The clouds were kissed a dusky pink and lavender blue, with peachy streaks running through it. It was just a short walk, after all. I should have brought my cell phone, come to think of it. But, I was already on my way, and the trees were calling to me. I took a sip of the hot cocoa, warmed. But, I was already on my way, and the trees were calling to me. I took a sip of the hot cocoa, warmed. I hadn't planned on the force of the driving wind and ice. My cheeks felt like they were being slashed by my cat's claws. Ow! I knew of a place I could escape, at least until the wind died down and I could safely make my way back home. This was not the most brilliant idea. Just a short time ago, the snow was gentle and inviting. Now it was harsh and Mama Nature seemed to be unleashing her temptuous fury. The oaks, maples, and pines were bare; stark against the white world. But the blue spruces towering above me, comforted me with their clothed presence. I plodded through the thickening snow up to my favorite tree and stood beneath it, staring up in reverence. I set the mug in the snow, hunched down and knelt, carefully crawling under and into the tiny space that the needles created. My silvery blue winter haven. I settled my self, tucking my one knee under my thigh and the other one beside it, reaching my gloved hands to the red-brown bark (a sign of its age), touching the tree, feeling the living pulse. Spruce protected me from the wind and the bitter cold. I resolved to myself that I would only linger for a short time. I picked up a large brown cone that tumbled near my foot and tucked it into my pocket for safe-keeping, thanking the tree for the gift. The cone brought back bittersweet memories of a happier time, when I was blissfully unaware of the true nature of my ex-husband. He had been tender and attentive to me. His words caressed my ears with poetry and thoughtfulness appealed to my romantic heart. Our first Valentine's Day together, he had gifted me with a gold leaf pendant, as he knew how much I loved trees. It was sweet. He did and said all the right things. I was such a fool: a fool in love. I never saw the care for what it truly was: manipulation. Too bad he didn't know how to navigate or manipulate his way around the bedroom. If he had been more commanding, more take charge, I might have had a bit of a clue to his true nature. But he always kept it rather boring. I was always the one leading. He had no idea what he was doing. Or maybe he did. What did it matter now, anyway? I just thought it might be nice to let someone else lead for awhile. If I could ever trust enough or give up that bit of control, it would be a miracle. After awhile, I crawled back out and was surprised that I had to push the snow out of my way. I let my daydreaming mind have its way with me again. Not good! Wow, it was really accumulating! My mug of cocoa had disappeared. I shivered, really glad I had remembered to put my silky warm long underwear on under my jeans. They always felt so nice against my skin, I sometimes wore them to bed. I loved that the moisture wicking material never made me sweat in my layers. Had anyone else been out and about they probably would have mistaken me for an eskimo; layer upon layer, bundled up to the nose, thick scarf hugging my neck, a few pairs of gloves failing at their purpose. I took a deep breath and turned my head to look at the distance to my house. I couldn't see my house. Not good at all! Fear started creeping in upon realizing this was no ordinary snow storm. A white-out meant one thing -- blizzard. Shit! I swung my head back around to look at the path ahead of me. I could see a bit more this way than I could in the direction of home, which was where the wind was blowing from. The snow was deepening. I knew there was a church just on the other side of the woods, somewhere. The distance to the church was less than the distance to my warm house. At least, going through the woods, the snow might not have accumulated so much. It might minimize the wind's bite too. The church doors were always unlocked. I could go in, warm myself up, and make a call to a friend to possibly pick me up. Settled on this plan, although I admitted to myself again this was not the most brilliant one; I set off. I wished for sunlight or even moonlight. I knew by now the sun was probably on its downward path sinking below the horizon, even if I couldn't see it. The thought of the moon's light beaming down on me somehow comforted me more than the sun. I shuffled forward, feeling snow slip into my boot. That's all I needed was cold, wet feet. The prospect of frost bite causing me to quicken my pace, as best I could. I made it to the woods and breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that I was right, the snow was much shallower and protected by the wind. A golden glow in the far distance urged me onward. I imagined the warmth of that cozy little church; maybe a cup of tea and something to nibble on. The world was silent, except for the wind, which was beginning to weaken. Such a dumb idea, I scolded myself. Whatever were you thinking? I felt a tear gather at the edge of my eye and reached up with my insulated glove and dashed it away. I would not cry. Besides, it would only leave an icicle on my cheek. What a lonely world. What a lonely girl. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a few tissues, pushing them against my nose which was twitching with cold. I sniffled loudly into the tissue, crumbling it up and stuffing it back into my pocket. "Almost there." I told myself. The light growing ever closer and I thought I could hear music. I reached the end of the woods and emerged; the sight of that quaint little church quite veritably the most welcome sight I'd seen in a long time. I struggled through the snow up to the door. The door was blocked by a huge drift. I climbed the drift, groaning in frustration. "Just my luck!" I climbed another drift to peer in one of the stained glass windows. The lights were dim and the church was empty. The parking lot was also empty. My heart dropped and panic began to set in. "What now?" I asked the vast sky. Maybe the back of the chapel was open. I tramped through the snow to the back of the chapel, of which the door was also blocked by snow, not to mention dark within. "Where on earth was that light coming from?" The light was a beacon and led me to the church. But now, being here, I realized there was no light on in the church. I turned away from the door, downtrodden and looked around. I saw a rod-iron fence extending up a hill and decided to follow it. I used the fence to pull myself along, stumbling as I went. The fence led to a gate of the same material and I blinked up at it, the snow making it hard to see. I felt chilled to the bone when I realized I had come upon a cemetery. The snow seemed less deep and I told myself to be brave; (they were just dead people after all) as I slipped in between the bars of the locked gate. I leaned up against the gate trying to catch my breath and rubbed my cheeks vigorously. They were numb. I glanced back at my soft footprints left in the snow, a sigh escaping my frost covered lips as my eyes were drawn to a flickering light; the very same light that had led me here. I pushed off the gate and walked over to the steady candle flame, wondering how I was able to see such a tiny glimmer from so far away. I sat beside the candle and leaned my face over it, trying to absorb what little heat I could. A new glimmer caught my eye and my gaze traveled from the candle upwards, settling on a stone statue. Ivory colored wings arched out of its back. This angel had blue eyes. They looked to be some type of semi-precious stone, and I wondered who would be crazy enough to leave something so valuable in a cemetery. The statue captivated me, its eyes seeming to penetrate my soul. I wondered what person the statue represented when he or she were alive: someone romantic, I imagine. Someone strong, well-known and well-loved. Someone youthful. I searched the surrounding area for a plaque or headstone and found nothing other than the perpetual candle and the stone statue. No epitaph, no dates, no names; nothing to identify the angel. Having no clue what possessed me to, on a child-like, nostalgic whim, I dropped to the snow blanketed earth, scooped up the softness and placed it on my tongue. I eased my tired body to the ground before the angel statue and spread my arms and legs out in a spread eagle position, scissoring my limbs in unison to form a snow angel - the most perfect I've ever made - almost too perfect. I pulled myself into a sitting position and prepared to stand up when a hand reached out to mine. I froze, as did my heart; frozen like the world around me. Hesitant, I turned my head, my gaze alighting on the arm attached to the hand and moving up to the face. My jaw dropped in wonderment and amazement mixed with fear. My gaze returned to the ground, the snow angel had disappeared and was standing before me. With grand wings, he sparkled like icicles. Those were wings, right? Yet, his touch was surprisingly warm and comforting. His ice-blue eyes stared into mine, telling me not to fear him. Trust, whispered in my ear. His wing touched my cheek, hands stroking snow-fallen hair from my face. I was under whatever magic he was weaving. He wrapped me in his embrace, holding me close. I lost myself in the sensations and we began to dance. I felt myself growing lighter, the ice and coldness melting; my walls falling away. I realized I could have stopped him, but he was in my heart and for once it didn't hurt. My gaze traveled up his length and settled on his sparkling eyes, snow flakes kissing his eyelashes. I too, yearned to kiss them. "Are you real?" I whispered, desperately. "Does it matter?" He answered me by tipping my face up to his and sliding his lips against mine. I closed my eyes, warmth filling me and all my dreams, desires, and fantasies fulfilled with just one kiss from his angelic lips. I pulled away from the kiss. "It does matter to me." My heart was at war with my mind. His heavy sigh nearly broke my heart. "You ask the wrong question." He captured a snowflake from my cheek and raised his finger to his lips, touching it with the tip of his tongue. "What question should I be asking?" I asked, mesmerized by his pink tongue. "It it not a matter of if I am real or not, but if I am living." My heart thudded in my ribcage, and I shook my head in denial, my gaze shooting over to the stone angel poised as if in flight. "Am I dead?" I asked weakly not wanting to really know the answer. He didn't give me an answer but dipped his head to mine, capturing my lips in another kiss. My mouth moved under his, lips parting, breath panting. Although cold breath puffed out of my mouth, nothing but sweetness came from his. My tongue tentatively touched the crease of his lips, slipping in for a taste. "I'm so cold." I shivered. His arms came around me, skimming against my bottom, hitching me up against him. I clung to him. "I will keep you warm." He whispered. "Come, with me." He released me from his embrace and held his hand out to me. His wings were so massive that I could not tell, as they were draped about him, if he wore any clothes. I didn't particularly care. The moment my fingers touched his hand a wave of dizziness hit me, and I staggered forward. He continued to support me, drawing me along. "Close your eyes." He bid me, and I obeyed. *** "Where are we going?" My voice chattering with cold. I felt heat suffuse my body and light warm the backs of my eyelids. I tried to open my eyes, but the light hurt and I closed them. I felt a whisper of something soft against my eyes and the light dimmed behind my lids. I opened them again, as I was greeted by a most welcome sight; the interior of a building. A roaring fire blazed in a hearth and there were blankets placed upon pieces of worn furniture. I felt the absence of my angel when he left my side to walk over to the hearth. A cauldron sat atop the flames and he was scooping a brown liquid into a clay mug. Gone were the wings, but before me stood a beautiful man. The beautiful man flowed over and placed the steamy cup in my hand and tipped it to my lips. I gulped grateful, my body aquiver with cold. The world looked as though I were viewing it through the steam of the hot cocoa. "We must get you warm." So saying, he unzipped my coat, tugged my gloves off my frozen hands, and untied my boots. I fumbled with the zipper to my jeans, unable to feel the piece of metal with my frozen fingers. He took over the task as I peeled the coat off, unwound the scarf from my neck, and removed the hat. My chestnut brown hair was a tangled mess, sticking to my face with sweat. He pushed the wet hair out of my face and gathered the length in his hands to lay behind my neck. "What are you?" I asked again, needing an answer. "Are you an angel?" He grinned for the first time. He had a lovely smile, straight white teeth and a small indent on his strong chin. "I can be your angel." His auburn hair hung in curls to his shoulder giving him a warrior's appearance. I reached my hand up to touch a curl; soft and silky, it slipped through my fingers. "Are you alive?" "Back to this are we?" A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. He caught my hand and held it up to his lips, placing a kiss against the knuckles. My questions and concerns slipping from my mind, as he flipped my hand over and touched the palm with his tongue. He dropped my hand and stared at my body, outlined by the clinging silky material of the long underwear. A hungry look came into his eyes and I swallow hard. "My Valentine Angel." I murmured softly, as his hands lifted the shirt. He blinked at me. "That explains it." He mumbled and then shrugged, his hands pushing the shirt up to expose my breasts. He smiled, "Valentine's Day." He grumbled and then dropped his head, sighing. I sensed the shift in his mood and tugged my shirt back down, placing my hands on the sides of his face, lifting it to my eyes. His eyes shifting away from mine "Is something wrong?" I asked him. "What about Valentine's Day?" I pulled him down to sit beside me on the worn couch. His presence seemed to fill the room, and I felt small beside him. "Is Valentine's Day the day that you." I gulped hard. "D-died?" Was I seriously having this conversation with him? Was he truly dead? Because from where I was sitting; he looked like a living, breathing, healthy, hot-blooded, sexy man to me. "Did you die? Or were you never born to begin with? I'm so confused." I huffed feeling dizzy and confused. He turned to face me, his leg moving against mine. He brushed his hand through his hair, in what I took to be a moment of irritation. "Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" His mouth on my lips succinctly stilled my words. I closed my eyes and sighed as his tongue whispered across the outline of my lips, and he dropped a kiss against the side of my mouth, moving over to kiss the other side, and settling fully centered on my lips, drawing my lower one into his mouth, to nibble upon. He pulled away reluctantly. "Sometimes." I whispered, breathless. "If you keep doing that, I'm not sure I'll even remember how to form words." I encouraged him, impishly. "Oh? Is that so?" He queried, sinking his fingers into my hair and tugging me closer. I batted my eyelashes prettily at him. I leaned my head closer to his to kiss him back, but he held me away. It seemed he was playing hard to get. I frowned at him and stroked my hand down his chest. Heart's Tempest "If you'd like, I could start up the flood of questions again." I suggested, giving a haughty little sigh, as he lifted my shirt up. His lip twitched as he lowered my body to the couch, his own coming to rest on mine, his hardness pressing into my belly. It felt right to have a man lying atop me again. It had been so long. My marriage was not the most sexually adventuresome. I really had to push my ex to think outside the box. When I say push, I meant push. The man had no sense of direction or decision making skills (Except when it came to: me or his addictions. That was the easiest decision of his life). I had to guide him every step of the way. I even had to tell him what clothes to wear. He would come to me with this distressed look in his eye, as if the world were about to end, hold his hands out in defeat and say "I don't know what to wear." Sometimes, I'd have to remind him to take a shower. Not that he was dirty, but he was forgetful. It was exhausting! Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind being in control, but what fun is that when the person basically just lay there beneath you? Boring! "Are you OK?" He questioned, smoothing my shirt back down and tossing a blanket over us. I snuggled into the cocoon of warmth and nodded, rubbing my nose against his. A look of consternation came into his eye. "Are you warm enough?" "I'm getting there." I told him. He just lay there gazing into my eyes. The heat pouring off of his body helped ward off some of the chill. I closed my eyes, absorbing his heat, breathing his warmth. He held his body slightly away from mine as he swept his hands along my curves, down my body and then back up the sides, settling them on my collarbone, which he stroked. He swept my hair out of the way and followed with his lips, his fingers gently exploring my skin. When I opened my eyes again, he was wearing an odd expression and heaved a sigh. I opened my mouth to ask him a question. In light of my doldrum intimate past, when this dreamy redheaded Celtic warrior type man silenced me with a kiss and pressed his body against mine, grinding his pelvis and hard cock into all my warm places, with a look of serious intention in his eye; I was more than happy to see where it would lead. Be he an angel, a ghost, or something more sinister, just about now, I didn't give a damn. He was hot; he was hard; he was sexy; he was between my thighs, aptly available and well equipped (I might add), and he looked like he was going to devour me any second. I blocked out the squeaky voice in my head that said danger and focused on the hot mouth clamped around my cloth covered breast, the tongue flicking against the fabric, and the hand cupping me between my thighs. "Still cold?" He whispered hotly in my ear. "Uh." I sputtered. "Don't answer that." He held his finger up to my lips, bringing it down to fold my lower lip down and nipping it. He raised himself again, so his hands could grab the hem of my silky shirt, and pulled it up past my ample breasts, tweaking my nipples on the way up. He rested his hands on my upper back to lift me up and finish divesting me of my shirt. My nipples pebbled up in response to the excitement and the change from my body's temperature, which quickly rose from the freezing temperatures I had been experiencing. "Body heat." His eyes promised as his fingertips drifted down my sides, eliciting a giggle and a chill from me. His eyes bore into mine as he lifted his hands off my body and started pulling away. I stifled the sound, quickly, my eyes asking him to stay. He used the backs of his nails to skim back up and repeat the same action, using just his fingertips again. I bit my lip as he watched me, waiting. Satisfied I was not going to betray my tickle weakness, he gave me a grin and a nod of approval. His left hand encircled both of my wrists and held them above my head. I let out a small sigh, relieved. He lowered his head to my stomach. My body spasmed when the tip of his tongue dipped briefly into my belly button. I almost lost it and had to bite the inside of my cheek and my lip. The tongue swirled lazy circles around my stomach and lower abdomen, causing the muscles to clench. "You're quite ticklish, aren't you?" He asked, as his tongue traveled to the side of my hip, his teeth grazing it. My eyes squeezed tight and my body wiggled. He rotated his hips, his cock pushing against my clit. Moisture gathered between my legs. "Yeah." I yelped when he suddenly let go my wrists and grabbed my legs, jerking them forward. Within seconds my pants were completely yanked off me, leaving me nearly naked. How he got my pants off me so quickly, I'll never know. His gaze inspected me from head to toe. He leaned his body forward again and nudged his knee between my thighs, rubbing it against my aching clit. I wondered if he could feel the wetness beginning to form. My eyelids flew open. I looked into his blue orbs and slowly, deliberately started parting my thighs. He growled at my slowness and reached his hand in to cup my panty-clad wetness. My lower half responded with a lurch, as my thighs automatically dropped open. He ran the side of his hand up the crease of my lips, as he kissed my knee. "No more tickling." I pleaded with him. "I like tickling. Let me hear you giggle." He lifted my bottom half up and set me in his lap, reaching for my feet. Panicking, seeing the direction of his gaze, I sat up and twisted away, trying to get out of his reach. "Oh, no you don't." He scolded, as his arms came around my waist, yanking me off the feet I was nearly gaining. I crashed against the couch and he set upon my breasts with earnest, suckling on the peaked tips, circling them with his tongue, tugging them lightly with his teeth. His soft hair swept against my skin, electrifying the nerves. As he paid homage to one breast, my hand squeezed and caressed the other. His mouth released me and he looked where my hand was busily playing with my nipple. He grabbed my hand. "No." He barked, startling me with the intensity in his voice, I shrunk back down. "That's my job." He said softly, seductively, as he kissed the tip of my nose. "Does this bother you?" He asked, cradling my face in his hands. I shook my head no. "Only the tickling." I whispered, my lip trembling. "Unfortunately, that can't be helped." He lay his finger on my lip. "What's wrong? Is this not what you wanted?" "How would you know what I want?" I asked him quietly. "I'm not sure: I just do. You need a man that can take control sometimes, take the burden off of you. I can be that if you let me. If you wish it." The aspect excited me, but then reality started hitting. "Yes, sometimes." I answered his previous question. "Well?" "You. I-I. What's the point when you can't stay?" I sighed frustrated, distressed, and nearing on depressed. He gathered me in his arms and held me, rocking me. I wasn't going to cry. "Sure this is all fine and well for Valentine's Day." I groaned. "But, what about the rest of the days?" "Shh. Can't you just think about here and now and not think beyond that?" "How can you? Aren't you entrenched in your past? In your memories, your experiences? How can you turn that off? I don't even know your name. For that matter, you don't know my name." I whined. "I am called Diarmuid." He said solemnly. I laughed hysterically. Was he for real? Was it possible that I wasn't making up the whole Celtic warrior thing, after all? "A family name." He said. "What year are you from, Diarmuid?" I tested his name on my lips, emphasizing the "deer" and it sat nicely. Yet I was suspicious and began raising my guard back up. "I don't remember. Why does it matter so much to you?" "You're dead." I said flatly, defeated. "Or not even of this world." "If I weren't?" His voice sulky. I started shivering again. He gently pulled me to a sitting position and stood up, taking my hands in his. I gave him a questioning look, allowing him to help me to my feet. *** "Body heat isn't enough to get you warm." He announced, as he placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me across the room to a doorway. I stepped into the room. There were three large skylights above and a lavish bathroom before me. My eye honed in on the huge claw foot tub. I left his side and eagerly walked over to inspect the tub. I could see several jacuzzi jets strategically placed inside. Giddy, I turned to face him. He was leaning up against the door jam of the door, his legs crossed, arms folded across his chest, head tilted to the side. He wore a relaxed expression, with the promise of something more in his eyes. "How do you turn it on?" I asked. I could feel my body already warming at the thought of the hot water, the suds, the massaging jets on my worn body. "Very easily." He strode over to me and placing his big strong hands on my waist, lifted me up and hoisted me onto the bathroom counter. "Do you need a demonstration?" I bit my lip, as he pulled my thighs apart and tugged the panties off of me. "The tub." I barely managed to get the words out when his head lowered and disappeared between my spread thighs. He blew warm breath across my center, kissing across my waist line. "Oh that." He muttered. His head popped back up, expression unreadable. He stalked over to the tub and turned the handle of the faucet. I wriggled my bottom against the marble counter trying to seek relief. He looked over his shoulder, pinning me with a dark look. I lowered my lashes and did my best to sit still. The water pressure was wonderful and the tub was filling quickly. He started pouring some foam bath when I interrupted. "Don't!" I shouted. "You'll ruin the jets." I knew the disaster regular bubbles could cause a jacuzzi tub. He turned around, holding the bottle up for me to see. Whew, spa-safe foam bath. "Satisfied?" His eyes darkened, dangerously. "Y-e. No!" I sulked. "I thought not." He had a wicked gleam in his eye. "Not for a while at least." His laughter edged on maniacal. I swallowed hard and when his back was turned tried to slide off the counter. Too late! Before I could blink he had caught me around the waist and swung me up and over, dropping me into the tub. With a splash, I slid down and went under. He reached in and grabbed my hand pulling me up. I spluttered, coughing. "That wasn't nice." I pouted. The pout quickly turning into a purr of pleasure as his hands gathered up bubbles and slid them across my chest. I closed my eyes, allowing his fingers to work their magic. "God your hands are amazing." I told him as he knelt beside the tub and started massaging my shoulders. I arched under his touch as he slid more suds down my back, dipping low in the water. His finger grazed against the sensitive area just above my ass, circling. "You've told me your name, I think it's only right to tell you my name." I told him, as his fingers left my back and circled around to the front of my body. "Not now." His hand disappeared beneath the suds. He leaned forward and flicked my ear with his tongue. My mouth closed. I felt the flats of his fingers against my mound, just touching the surface. My hips bucked up, encouraging those fingers to explore. He pulled them away, flicked the water off of his hands and stood up. He placed one leg into the water and lowered himself to sit on the edge, straddling the tub. I looked up at him, curious. He looked devious as he stretched his big foot down to the tips of my toes, sliding it up my leg, to my inner thigh. My breath hitched in anticipation. He stood up, turned himself around and slid back, so that he was now facing me. His big toe gently touched my clit, carefully rubbing at it. I gasped, my jaw dropping open. I had never before had a man touch me at my most intimate places with his toes. I moaned as his big toe worked my clit and the heel of his foot gingerly pressed against my pussy. God, it was so unexpectedly hot! I braced my hands on the shelf of the jacuzzi and grinded myself against the heel of his foot. He pressed a button and the jets roared to life, as he removed his foot sliding it away from me and to the other side of the tub. I mewled in protest, then cried out as I felt one of the jets aimed straight at my aching pussy, a steady stream of water pounding into me. He slid forward and took my face in his hands, kissing me hard, his hands cupping my breasts, pads of his thumbs rubbing across my peaked nipples. I returned the kiss, my body writhing against the shaft of water, opening my mouth to welcome the invasion of his tongue. Every nerve ending in my body was tingling. I wondered if he was going to join me. "You are trembling." He whispered hotly in my ear as he took my hand in his. "But, at least you are no longer shivering or chattering." He grinned at me, placing my hand on his cock. "Trembling is good." I lightly rubbed my hand up and down his hardness. "See how hard you make me?" I felt his steel hard cock twitch in my hand as I slid my hand back down his shaft to cup his balls. He sucked in a breath as I played with them, rubbing and gingerly squeezing. "Aren't you going to join me?" My voice lowering and taking on a sultry tone. "I am afraid I won't fit, dearheart." He apologized. I sighed. Dearheart? Did he just use a term of endearment? "You could hold me in your lap." I suggested, hopefully. "I think that's enough water for tonight. I don't want your skin to get so pruned that I can't enjoy the silk of it." He caressed my hair back from my brow and kissed along my collarbone, up to the spot just below my earlobe. As I was tilting my neck to give him better access, he moved away and stood up. He returned with a big fluffy green towel. I stood on weak knees and held his arm for support as I stepped onto the floor. He wrapped the towel around my body and then wrapped his arms around me, drawing me close to him. "I used to work with my hands for a living." He said, his brow furrowed. This admission startled me. He seemed surprised he remembered that. Were his memories beginning to come back to him? "Doing what? Giving massages?" I giggled. "Making things." I reached up and pinched his bicep. It wasn't bulging, but it was certainly solid. He playfully tapped my nose with his finger and scooped me into his arms, carrying me out of the bathroom. I put my arms around his shoulders and held onto to him, resting my head against his broad chest. Again, I felt the overwhelming sensation that somehow this was right. I snuggled against him. His pace picked up as he crossed the roughly hewn wooden floor. Having never seen the outside of the house, I could only surmise we were in some type of hunting lodge or cabin. I cringed when I saw the stag's head above the mantle of the fireplace. How had I missed that before? It made me curious. "Do you hunt? Or did you hunt?" I asked him turning my eyes away from the mounted head and looking into his. "I did. But I ate what I killed." He nodded, looking around. "Is this your home?" I wrinkled my nose. "I think it has been in the family." He walked through a stone doorway. We were in a bedroom. A fire was blazing in the stone fireplace, this one smaller than the huge one in the great room, or whatever you would have called it. In the center of the room stood a bed constructed of logs made of a blonde colored wood. A rustic quilt lay atop the bed; burgundy, brown, and hunter green were the colors. There was a moose wrack hanging over the bed. I groaned inwardly. "Are you still cold?" He asked as he sat me on the edge of the bed. *** "No." I yawned and stretched sleepily. "Just tired." The green towel slid down my body and pooled at my waist. He stood there, considering me for what seemed like ages. "You can sleep later." He growled as he swung my legs up onto the bed, removed the towel from around me and nudged my body up towards the headboard. "You can't be serious." I half-heartedly complained. "I fed you: I bathed you: I warmed you: Now I want something in return." His voiced deepened as he crawled onto the bed, purposefully advancing towards me. I scrambled out of his reach, butting up against the headboard with a squeak. "Stand." He commanded. "Why?" I shot back at him. "Stand up, or I will make you stand." What was with this guy? One minute he was tender and sweet and the next he was demanding and domineering. Ohmygod, my fantasy come to life! He reached out and wrapped his fingers in my hair, his grip firm. I quickly stood to my feet and gave him a challenging look in return for the scowl he gave me. "Turn around." I complied, feeling the juices from my pussy seep out and run down my leg. I felt his fingers probe me and wipe the wetness from my inner thigh. I glanced over my shoulder at him and blinked as he brought his fingers to his mouth to taste, a predatory gleam in his eye. My breath quickened in my lungs. "Reach up and hold onto the antlers." He instructed. "What? Diarmuid." I started, my mind running through a dozen scenarios. "I don't want to touch those things." I started turning around but felt his hand on my back pressing my body into the headboard. "You'll need something for support." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. I glared at him. "Oh come on. Alright, fine. Hang on to the top of the headboard, if that suits you better." He pinched my ass and then gave it a light swat. "Will you close your eyes for me, or am I going to have blindfold you?" My tummy did flip-flops and I nodded dumbly. "Yes to eyes or yes to the blindfold?" He questioned again. "Oh nevermind." I felt the weight of the bed shift and peeked over my shoulder. There was a matching nightstand beside the bed. He opened the drawer and drew out a strip of plaid, wiggling his eyebrows at me. My clenched left hand flew to my chest and I drew a shaky breath. I wasn't sure I would be able to give up this much control. Just allowing him to man-handle me had been hard enough. This was really pushing my limits. "Moi chroí. I am not going to hurt you." He came up behind me and stroked my hair, kissing my cheek. "I promise, angel." He whispered, moving his lips to my earlobe. "If you don't like it, I'll stop. I'll even let you beat me up. Alright?" He sounded so convincing. "Let me show you how a real man can pleasure a woman. You haven't experienced that, have you?" I found myself once again wondering how he knew these things. I shook my head, sighing. "What did you just call me?" I asked him. As I turned back around, I felt the rough fabric slide down in front of my eyes. The world went dark. He gently tied a knot at the nape of my neck. "What language was that?" I questioned. The weight of the bed shifted again, something was pushed down between my chest and the headboard, as I felt hands pull my hips back slightly. My body lurched when I felt fingers on the insides of my thighs, spreading them slightly. It tickled. I gasped when I felt warm breath fan across the apex of my thighs. The muscles of my body clenched in anticipation. I could see nothing. My ears were met by silence. My skin was on fire. Fingers light as feathers danced along the skin of my legs. A moist kiss was pressed to the back of my knee and then the wetness of a tongue followed a trail from my knee to just below my cheek, nipping right at the crease. I pitched forward, my bottom thrusting out. Hands grabbed my cheeks, bringing me forward, keeping me in place. I felt something against my foot and nudged it. It was soft and bulky. I surmised it was a pillow. Soft hair whispered against the insides of my thighs, as the breath on my skin grew hotter. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut; although with the blindfold there really was no need. It made me feel like I had more control closing my eyes. A finger - I guessed - slid between my lower lips to explore the inner folds, rubbing along the slickness. A second finger joined the first and they created a scissoring motion, which caused my inner muscles to clench tightly. Something brushed against my clitoris. Too sensitive, I tried to lurch away, but was held in place. I quickly realized the reason he told me to hold onto something. I unclenched my fists and brought them to the top of the bed frame, wrapping my fingers around, clutching it. I leaned forward trying to rub my breasts against the wood, with no luck. I was too far away. The fingers inside of me were moving faster. Heart's Tempest When his tongue flicked against my nub, I nearly climbed the walls. I struggled against the sensation, tossing my head back, as his hot tongue slowly circled it. His tongue flattened and tapped against my hard clitoris, before lapping and sucking it into his mouth. His fingers withdraw momentarily and I sighed, more fingers came in contact with me and spread the lips of my pussy, his tongue slipped in, wiggling inside me. My knees trembled; my body quivered; my thighs quavered. I pushed my head against the headboard surprised when I felt my cheek meet the soft pillow. I was afraid I was going to collapse. His tongue slowly slid up and down my slick slit, slowly tracing the puffy outer lips, slurping up the juices I was rapidly releasing. His fingers plunged in and out of me, extending far back to reach my g-spot, the longest finger arching up against it. I moaned into the pillow, grasping the headboard tighter. Everything he was doing to me, I felt a hundredfold because of the sensory deprivation of sight. It was delicious. From the sounds he was making, even whirring ones, he found me delicious too. His tongue returned to my clit, his lips taking hold of it, sucking it into his mouth, to swirl his tongue around it. I felt a hand grasp my right breast, rolling the erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It was more than I could take. I clenched my muscles around his fingers, threw my head back, and rode his face, bucking my body up and down, yelping when I felt his touch as he rolled the sensitive pearl nestled atop my mound between his fingers. His tongue went back to torment my pulsating heat. My pussy quivered as whimpers of pleasure escaped my trembling lips. "Let go and come for me." He coaxed, moving his hand to the other breast and twisting harder. His mouth vibrated against me. I dropped my hands and slid in a puddle to his chest. He lifted me up and turned me around, laying me along the length of his body. I felt something hard bounce against my cheek and groaned, realizing it was his cock. I grasped his cock in my hand and stroked him up and down. "Don't worry about me." His muffled reply came. I let go, searched for him with my lips, gave his cock a kiss and then held onto the bedsheets, bucking back against his chin and mouth. He was squeezing my ass. I squeezed my thighs around his shoulders, feeling my orgasm building. My body was burning up from the inside out. "Now." His voice urged, as he slipped three fingers into me and ferociously attacked my clitoris with his mouth. I cried out. "Oh God, I'm coming. Diarmuid. God, wait, wait, too much. Ohhh..." Gasping and moaning and came I did! Torrents of liquid flowed from my body into his awaiting mouth. His tongue licked it up and plunged in for more. I trembled from head to foot, expanding my ribcage to take more air into my lungs. I dropped my head down onto his abdomen, my legs going limp, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. He ran his hands up and down the backs of my thighs, causing my body to quiver at the light touch. I think I felt a tear slip down my eye, but couldn't be sure. "Are you ready for more?" His voice asked me. I rolled off of him and started to pull the blindfold off, but his hands touched my hands and I stopped. My chest was still heaving. I felt his warm breath on my face and fingers slip beneath the fabric covering my eyes. He gently lifted the makeshift blindfold. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the soft light. A warm glow flickered against the wall. He had lit candles at some point. "Are you OK?" He lazily stroked my hair. The intensity of his blue eyes softened by the candlelight. He had swept his burnished hair back on his shoulder. I nodded my head, smiling. "I did not scare you, did I?" His concern genuine. "Not too much." I laughed a little. He frowned. "I mean, in the beginning I felt out of control and panic started rising up. But for some strange reason that I can't quite figure out, I trust you. You helped to reassure me. Thank you." I brought his face to mine and kissed his lips soundly, then eased his head back to my chest, running my fingers through his hair, then down to his strong shoulders. I circled his shoulders with my fingertips and smiled to myself when I saw his muscles twitch in response. His hand splayed against my stomach, fingers inching down toward my wetness. "Well?" His fingers circled above the sensitive bundle of nerves that he had reduced my clit to. "Yes." I said breathless as he inched closer to it, tantalizing me. He sat up and knelt on the bed, grasping my feet and pulling me towards him. He put a pillow under my lower back and then lifted my legs, stretching them up to his chest, keeping them closed. I watched him as he reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer pulling out a condom. I wondered to myself what the heck a spirit, angel, or whatever he was needed a condom for. It no longer mattered, as I felt the tip of his cock slide against my still slick lips. My lower lips fluttered, as my inner muscles leaped to awareness. He slowly eased himself inside of me, a firm grip on my legs. As his cock pierced my center, I gripped the bed sheets, thankful he was holding my weight. He began to slowly thrust deep within me. I slipped my hand down to play with my clit, needing to feel the friction. As he drove in and out of me, my other hand squeezed my left breast, hard. His grunts and moans adding to my own. I'd never taken a man so deeply inside of me before! When the tip of his cock stroked my G-spot, I screamed and a flood of fluid poured, no, shot out of me, rushing forth like a river. I moaned, tossing my head back and forth, my chest heaving, my heart speeding, my body trembling. I had heard about female ejaculation but had never, in my wildest dreams had the pleasure of experiencing it. Ohmygod! That had to be what was happening. That amount of fluid shooting out could never be from a simple orgasm. I bit back another scream as he lifted me further off the bed. He shoved another pillow under me to ease the strain on my back. I admired the way the muscles of his chest and arms moved, as he plunged into me. "I'm going to come." I told him. He pulled out of me and lowered my body to the bed. Then pulled me into a sitting position, tugging me onto my wobbly feet. He grabbed my waist and threw me over his shoulder and jumped off the bed. I wondered what he had planned for me next. He strode over to the doorway, slid me down his body and held me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on as his cock resumed its pounding inside of me. I entwined my arms around him and moaned, throwing my head back, as he supported all of my weight. After a few minutes in that position, he carried me over me out of the room and over to the couch, where he sat down with me on top of him. Yes! Finally I was going to be on top and in charge. I triumphed inside, but the triumph was short lived. He had other plans. Yes, I was going to be on top. But, no, I was not to be in charge. He slid me onto his hot thickness and raised me up and down on his shaft. I marveled at his incredible strength, letting him use my body for his pleasure. Feeling a tiny bit at a loss, I leaned forward, pushing my breasts into his face. He eagerly took one into his mouth and circled my taut nipple with his tongue. His teeth grazed my nipple and I began to tighten my inner wall muscles against his shaft. This drove him wild and he bit down gently, tugging my nipple with his teeth, growling. I still had not come and was beginning to feel bereft. "Please." I murmured in his ear. "Let me come." "Hmm." His voice teased, as he released my nipple and looked up at my pleading eyes. Then he shifted on the couch and lay down, bringing me down on top of him. He placed his arms behind his head, his elbows out to the side and grinned at me. "Go for it." At last! I took the reins, so to speak, and positioned my body how I wanted it, taking him inside me and riding him to oblivion. I undulated my hips against him, bouncing up and down on his cock, murmuring and wriggling. His hand lazily came down and swept against my clit, driving the pleasure even further. Pants and moans and ohmygods were flowing from my lips. He leaned up, stroked my back, pulled me down to his chest and kissed me, as his fingers floated across the curve of my ass. I could feel myself peaking and knew a climax was at hand. I wanted him to come too. His hands gently gripped my hips, and he picked up the pace slamming me against him. "Argh!" I growled back at him as he lifted me off of him and stood up, leaving me staring at him with hell in my eyes. "Stop doing that!" He laughed and swooped down on me. "Don't even think about picking me up again. I can walk just fine. See?" I took a step to demonstrate and my knees collapsed, sending me to the floor. He shook his head. It was cold in the main room, and we both had goosebumps. "You are going to hurt yourself." He stated as he helped me to my feet and wrapped an arm around me, guiding me back to the bedroom, turning his face to kiss my ear. "Bed?" He questioned. I nodded and climbed into the bed. He walked over to the smaller fireplace and quickly refreshed the burning embers with logs, setting the flames going again, before returning to me with a blanket. He climbed in next to me. I lay down, as he gently lay on top of me, pulling the blanket up over top of us. I spread my thighs and welcomed him into my warmth. I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort and my heart opening up, as he caressed my hair, whispered kisses across the bridge of my nose to each cheek, and licked along my clavicle. His hips swiveled and I gasped as my inner walls were stimulated. The way he moved his body amazed me. He nestled within me and did something that can only be described as magical, as he slowly moved inside. His length filled me and he moved in just such a way that every part of my inner core was stroked gently. I ached and whimpered into his hair, as he whispered sweet nothings in my ear. A wave of pleasure rippled through my body and I began to writhe beneath him, feeling myself build up, determined to have my long drawn-out orgasm at last. I milked his cock, my nails biting into his shoulders, my teeth tugging at his lip, dragging him under with me. I let go. "Oohhh....my....god!" I screamed into his mouth, as he slipped his tongue in and swirled it against mine. As my body wept, fluid seeping out between my thighs, he picked up the pace, driving himself within me, seeking his own release. I urged him on, wrapping my thighs around him and digging my heels into his ass. "Come for me, Diarmuid. Show me how much I please you." I purred seductively. Needing no more urging, he drove as deeply into me as he could. His body shuddered, his breath coming in gasps, his voice moaning and grunting. I felt the hot pulse of him fill the condom as he came inside. I swallowed his scream of pleasure, purring in his ear as I orgasmed again. My body awakening to the wonder of pleasure I had never felt before! He collapsed on top of me, puffing out his breath. "Wow." His words as he eased himself out of me and lay at my side, resting his head on my chest. I felt soft silk caress my breasts and his warm cheek rest against my heart. He gently tapped on my belly. "What are you doing?" I asked him. "Finding the rhythm of your heart." He stated. He turned so he was facing me, still with his head on my chest. "How do you feel?" "Totally and completely fulfilled." I whispered. "Thank you." "My pleasure, baby." He whispered, wrapping his arm around me and entwining his legs with mine. I yawned and stretched languorously. He quickly discarded the spent sleeve in a tissue. "Warmer?" An impish gleam in his eye. "Hot!" I answered back. "That was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. Is that what it is like making love to an angel?" I asked as he ran his fingertips along my skin. "I'm guessing it is." He said, with a curious tone. *** "Tell me about you, what you remember about yourself." I said softly, hoping he would open up a little. I really knew nothing about him. I wasn't sure if he was a man: living or dead, an angel: of light or darkness, or something different altogether. He was an enigma. I knew we didn't have much time together, and I needed to know as much as I could, so I could always hold him and this experience within my memory and within my being. Not that I was going to have any trouble with that. He lifted his head and moved it down to my stomach. "I worked with my hands. I want to say that I made weapons for a living. But that doesn't seem quite right" He began. "A blacksmith?" I questioned. It would make sense with his build. He nodded his head. I closed my eyes and got a glimpse of a strong solid sweat-slicked back bent over a blazing fire, the sound of metal clashing against metal, sparks flying, the smell of sulfur. A curved shape glowed red and I watched as the muscled arms withdrew the shape from the fire, holding it up. The blue eyes seemed to be the only feature not blackened on his face. He looked over his shoulder. I followed his gaze and saw a horse standing there, waiting. I opened my eyes. "Horseshoes." I said. "What?" Diarmuid turned his body so he was facing me. "You made horseshoes. A blacksmith and a farrier." I confirmed, based on the vision I had just seen. "How would you know that?" His gaze trained on me. He was in disbelief. "I saw it." I shrugged. "I don't know why or how. But I saw you. You held up a horseshoe." Not a warrior, but a sexy blacksmith. Mm, I was liking this vision stuff! I wanted to see more. He had closed his eyes and looked unsettled. "Can you remember anything more?" I asked him. "I remember tents, people, food cooking, laughter." He concentrated. I closed my eyes and did so as well. "A camp perhaps?" I suggested. "A war camp?" "Perhaps." He acknowledged. "Not a war camp. I was never in a war, that much I do know." I sighed slightly disappointed. "Can you describe the clothing the people were wearing?" I encouraged him. But, I didn't need him to describe the clothing. The vision was back and what I saw shocked me. There were ladies dressed in Medieval style dress, some Edwardian, even Victorian. There were gypsies and warriors and gentlemen. I even saw wings. What the heck was going on? "Diarmuid." I said gently, not quite knowing how to approach the subject. "Yes?" He asked me, his eyes hopeful that I had seen something that might help him. "Um." I took a deep breath and plunged in. "What year do you think you are from?" "I don't know. The 16th century possibly. Why?" He was studying me and I tried to look away. But he touched my cheek, bringing my face back into his line of vision. "I'm not quite sure you are from so long ago." I offered quietly. "How do you mean?" He demanded. "Well, in my vision I saw people dressed in various styles of clothing, period clothing, garb." I explained. "Go on." He nodded, eagerly. "I also saw an audience of people watching you smite the metal." I look at him directly. "The villagers sometimes came to watch." He told me. "Diarmuid." I slid my legs out from beneath his. He moved off of me and I sat up and took his hands in mine, taking a deep breath. "This audience was much more recent than you are thinking. These were no villagers. These people were wearing jeans and shorts and sundresses." I paused. "What are you saying?" His voice rose a pitch. "It is possible at all that you may have been an actor?" My voice squeaked out. He scoffed and laughed a big belly laugh. "My dear girl, perish that thought this moment. Nay, I 'ave ne'r been an actor b'fore. I think yer a bit touched in the head there lassie." The jump of dialects and accents had my head reeling. I had to help him understand, as gently as I could - if not who he was - at least what he was. I still held his hands, so I brought them to my lips and kissed the knuckles. "I think all ya'll you have been watching too many movies." He said to me, now taking on a country twang. "See there! You know what movies are." I poked him in the chest. "Of course I do. I have been stuck on this earth for a long long time." He was adamant. I could tell he was confused and his ire was rising. "Just spell it out plainly for me and then we can move on, after we have a good laugh at your vivid imagination." "Diarmuid, I do believe that you were a blacksmith. But I also believe you might have been an actor, played a role in a Renaissance Faire at some point in your life. You have knowledge of many accents and roles, which you just now slipped in and out of. You know too much of modernity, even if you have been stuck here, as you say. Can you consider the idea that maybe you have not been waiting so very long after all?" My eyes implored him to see reason. "Are you going to the Scarborough fair; parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme." He started singing. Man, he was going off the deep end! I wished there were a computer around so I could try and show him and convince him that what I was saying was true. "She was fair of skin, gold of hair, had eyes of summer skies. She loved me and I loved her. I loved her. She left me. She left me alone. Alone at the altar. On Valentine's Day. Our friends and family gathered around. She was my life. She was to be my wife. Gone from this world. I could not bear the pain." His voice was monotonous, sad, despairing. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close to me. I removed a sword from the fire and hid it away. I snuck it off the faire-grounds. I knew I could get fired. Everything forged on the grounds belonged to the faire. This would be the day to end the pain. The day to end the sorrow. The day to rejoin my darling love. This would be our day of days." I listened to him. He didn't seem aware of his words. He was confusing me. I was so tired and my mind had started wandering before he started his explanation. I was on the fence about how much to believe. One thing was for sure, he seemed to believe his story. Now, where had I experienced that before? I put my guard up. My ex-husband loved to fabricate stories to make himself look better. But my heart, dammit, told me that this man before me told me truth. How did I decide? "What did you do?" I asked not sure I wanted to know the answer. Expecting that I already knew it. "I waited a year. I waited a year until the next Valentine's Day came around. I needed time to design the perfect weapon. The weapon that would represent the sword that she pierced my heart with. I would pierce my heart with my own creation. I waited until after dusk and then rode one of the shire's horse to the graveyard where my love lay. I stood beneath the stone angel, the face the likeness of her. I fell to my knees and looked up at her through the falling snow. My beautiful angel. I unsheathed the sword from the scabbard at my waist, held it up. It glinted in the darkness catching the candlelight. It was tragically romantic!" His voice picked up, as he absently stroked my cheek. The pain in his voice. The grief in his eyes was real. Even an actor couldn't fake that depth of anguish. I wanted so desperately to believe him. But could I? "I'm sorry for the pain you suffered." I whispered. He didn't seem to hear me. He continued. "As I set the point to my breast, I heard her call my name. She had the sweetest voice, my Juliet. I stood and stumbled toward the voice, toward the light I saw. That's when I tripped." He gave me a sidelong glance. . "What did you trip over?" I asked him. "I tripped over another angel." He whispered, shifting his eyes to mine fully, holding them there. "A snow angel freezing in the cold. She shivered uncontrollably. Her lips were blue, her face whiter than the snow. Life was seeping out of her fast. I scooped this lovely snow angel in my arms and held her close to me, praying that she hold on. Praying that my heat would warm her. She seemed so frail at the time." He stopped talking and touched my lips with his, sliding them against mine. I sighed softly, wanting to hear more. I felt jealous of Juliet and of the snow angel. Heart's Tempest "Was the snow angel OK?" I wanted to know! Whoever she was, was a lucky girl to have him as her rescuer. "I carried her to my family's hunting lodge and removed both of our clothes. I knew if she didn't get warm, she would be lost. I lay with her in my arms for what seemed like hours, rubbing her skin, kissing her hair, whispering soothing words to her. She still shivered. That was when I got the idea to put her in a lukewarm bath, so as not to shock her system." I blinked at him, dumbfounded. "Wait. What!?" I exclaimed, a knot fisting in my stomach. "She called me her Valentine Angel. She was delirious and I let her believe whatever she wanted. At least she could speak. In her fevered state she told me of her life. She told me of her recent divorce to a pussy of man, of the pain he had caused her heart. She told me about her sweet little snowy cat. She told me of her dreams and her fears." "You're wrong." I shook my head vehemently, my turn to be in denial and shock. Could he possibly be talking about me? The chill creeping up my spine to settle at the nape of my neck told me he was. "She even shared her secret fantasies with me." His eyes intense, need coming into them. "This is a trick!" I pushed away from him. But his arms held me like a band of steel, as I thrashed and hissed at the indignation. "Now, I will ask you, Angelique, what do you remember?" His voice barely above a whisper. "You know my name." I marveled, disbelieving, but also distrusting. "A fitting name for a true angel. You are my Valentine Angel, Angelique. You saved me. You have brought me back to life, given me something to once more live for. I believe Juliet brought you to me. Had I not stumbled upon a snowy angel, I would truly only be here with you in spirit. But I am very much alive and I have you to thank for it." He tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away. "B-but you didn't remember. You told me you didn't remember your "life." You lied?" I balked at him. "Not intentionally." He unwound his body from mine and reached over to the nightstand. I peeked over and felt a tingle return between my thighs seeing silken scarves folded neatly at the bottom, my curiosity piqued. He pulled out a worn leather notebook and presented it to me. I gave him a quizzical look and then opened the book and read. Here was an account of the year and all that had occurred, even his decision to block his reality for a time. I should be concerned, really. What if he were schizophrenic or something? But no, I knew the burden grief can have on a soul. This poor man. He lost the love of his life! How would I have reacted? I took his hands in mine, brushing my fingers over his knuckles. I nervously looked across the room, my gaze landing on the shining shaft of the sword that leaned, propped against the wall . "I think I blocked the past from myself. I took on the persona of my character. Life was easier that way." He explained, squeezing my fingers in return. Following the line of my vision, he gently turned my face back to his, a look of regret in his eye. "Is Diarmuid even your real name?" I sniffled. "My name is Dermott, a derivative of Diarmuid. So, in a sense, yes." He smiled softly at me. "Dermott. You can call me Angel." I said shyly, as I reached for a blanket to cover my nakedness, suddenly feeling self conscious. "Nay, hide not such perfection." I stared at him. "I'm sorry, it has become a habit to speak in such a way. Please don't be uncomfortable. We have spent several days together, snowed in. We have become quite familiar with each other's bodies, if not lives." A pink tinge stained his cheeks and just as I was about to ask why he was blushing, my own blush crept up my cheeks and I remembered the things we did together. "I think your memory will start to return shortly. You've suffered major trauma. It will take time, lovely Angel." He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. "I just want you to know I never took advantage of you. You told me what you needed from me and I did my best to deliver that." He looked down at our hands. "You believe me, don't you?" There was a vulnerable look in his eye I'd never expected to see there. It comforted me. "I know nothing about you beyond what you just told me." I said, feeling clueless. A tingle spreading up my spine at the touch of his lips on my sensitive hands. "But yes; I believe you. I'm quite aware of what's in my secret heart." I placed my hand under his chin, lifting his eyes to mine and whispered, seriously. "You did deliver." I winked at him. He blinked at a loss for words. "We have the time to get to know each other." He promised, recovering. "Will you let me hold you in my arms while you sleep and finish recovering?" He wore a puppy dog expression. "Only if you promise never to let me go." I murmured, snuggling in his arms. "Do you like cats?" My thoughts wandering to my dear little Callieach. I missed my dear little furball. I hoped she was OK. I worried my lip with my teeth. "Just how long have we been here?" I turned onto my side, so I was nose to nose with him. "A few days. Not long enough for you to have to fear for your cat's well being." He leaned his face close, his warm lips caressing mine. He was right. I had filled her food with dry kibble and replenished her self-serve water bottle the morning I had set off into the snow. I breathed a sigh of relief. "I love them." He smiled, pulling back slightly. I quirked my eyebrow. "Cats, I mean. Juliet was allergic to them, so we couldn't have one. I would love to meet your feline friend." This made me smile. "From what you've told me about her, she sounds like a beautiful and regal creature. If not a bit of an imp," he continued. I grinned at him. "Much like you." He ran one finger along my forehead, sweeping a lock of hair out of the way, dipping his head close to mine. We head-bumped gently. "Can we go now?" I asked hopeful, pouting. He sucked on my lower lip, licking the top one. Something still nagged at the back of my mind. "How come you didn't take me to the hospital if I was so sick?" I asked him, pulling away, suspicion clouding my eyes again. "We were snowed in. I had no way to get you out of the house or anyone into the house. I have a first aid kit and because of the dangerous nature of being a smithy, I was required to take first aid courses. That knowledge has come in handy for several times with burns, as well as helping you. You had no injuries. I had gotten to you before frost-bite could set in. You suffered a very high fever though. You should probably be seen by a doctor." Both of our eyes wandered to the window at the same time. The snow was still coming down and piled high. "It will take some time to dig out. But I promise the moment we can, I will take you home to see your kitten." Satisfied with his answers, I yawned sleepily and curled into him. Words he had said to me amidst my hazy memories floated to the surface. I gazed into his eyes. "Dermott. What does "muh kree" mean?" I questioned. He flushed at the words and suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable "Please tell me." I beseeched him. He wrapped his arms around me and tucked my head beneath his chin. "Mo chroi is a Gaelic expression for "my heart." I pulled away and blinked at him, stunned. "But." I stammered, the implications of the word suddenly weighing me down. "Shh. Coosh-la muh cree (chuisle mo chroi)." He kissed my forehead. "Pulse of my heart." His deep voice taking on a light lilt, the words caressing my soul, as his fingers caressed the skin of my breast just above my heart. "A term my father, and before him my grandfather, and his father, and so on used to address their beloveds in our ancestral tongue." I felt a flutter within, as the fragile wings of promise unfurled. I yawned again, deciding there was time to mull over the words and implications tomorrow. "Happy Valentine's Day, Angel." He whispered, kissing my eyelids as I drifted into dreams of hope and love. In dreams, I held hands with the beautiful golden haired snow angel who had gifted me with a second chance at life and at love. ~~~~~~~ Once again thank you to Litfan10 for his wonderful critiquing and editing skills! Thank you to Darkniciad for his help with category placement and suggestions! Thank you for the reading and feedback from LadyKnight and Nightshade, as always :)