Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Actress and the Celt ❯ Chapter 3

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter 3
 
She swallowed audibly, and he resisted the urge to run his tongue in the opposite direction up her throat. She stepped away and took a breath to steady herself, before nodding.
 
“Fine. The floor,” she stomped off to the other bedroom while he chuckled. He was the victor. And to the victor goes the spoils, he mused.
 
But he doubted the spoils would want to participate in her own spoiling.
 
Truth be told, the lass didn't only arouse him beyond all painful reason. She was intriguing, a rare mix of woman and wit. The women in his time only knew how to be subservient, allowing the men to control their life. But she lived on her own, made her own living, and managed to help small children with their dreams.
 
She returned with two fluffy things and a large blanket. She tossed the fluff on the floor on the opposite side of where she would sleep. “Here's some pillows and a blanket. Knock yourself out.”
 
He nodded his gratitude. She had some strange fabric on the floor instead of thrush or dirt. He lay down and was amazed at how comfortable it was. They had straw pallets in Erin that they slept on each night. If the floor was this comfortable, how fared the bed?
 
He began to ask if he could find out, but he heard her soft snoring and decided against it. If Fidelma had her way, he would be here a long time. He would find out sooner or later.
 
He awoke about two hours later to her terrified screams and pleadings with some invisible foe. He sprang from his pallet on the floor and jumped on the bed, dagger at the ready. But he saw nothing, and when he looked down, he could only focus on the tears that flowed freely, and what he heard from her lips froze the blood in his veins.
 
“Leon, stop, please! Oh Gods, somebody help me! PLEASE!” he couldn't stand it anymore, and he took her shoulders and shook her hard enough to rouse her. She stopped struggling and opened her eyes, the red making the green stand out in an eerie, heart wrenching way.
 
She panted, her whole body soaked with cold sweat. She couldn't seem to stop shaking. She looked up at Cathair, whose features showed concern and anger? No, she must be imagining it.
 
She took a shaky breath before bursting into tears again. Cathair spared no time pulling her into his arms, letting her tears fall against his chest as he whispered soothing words in Gaelic.
 
After a time, she stopped crying. He looked down to see that she had fallen asleep leaning against his chest. She looked so incredibly vulnerable, so hurt and unsure of herself.
 
Silently, he pulled up the sheets that she'd tossed off in her nightmare. He lay down on the bed, then settled her upper body on his chest. He still burned for her, but with the circumstances, it wasn't difficult to ignore.
 
The odd thing was, he'd never slept with a woman. Actually sleeping in the same bed, not easing their loins. It was definitely a rarity that he intended to savor while he could. No woman in Erin would ever be like Elizabeth.
 
He pulled the warm, lush woman as close to his body as he could, and closed his eyes. The last thought he had before sleep claimed him was the wish that he could keep her.
 
Elizabeth woke to the feel of something warm and beating under her ear. She opened her eyes and realized she was staring at Cathair's chest, her auburn hair spilling over the tanned, firm flesh. She blushed as she remembered what happened. She had that dream almost every night, ever since it happened.
 
She willed the thoughts away and snuggled back on his chest. She could forget she had pride and morals for a little while. Right now, she needed the comfort he was so willing to give her. It warmed her that he hadn't simply woken her up and gone back to his place on the floor, but that he'd stayed and comforted her.
 
Cathair ran his fingers through her curly hair. She hadn't yelled at him about being in her bed; on the contrary, she tried to get as close as possible. She must still be shaken from the night before. He draped his arm over her waist, relishing in her softness.
 
The minutes ticked by before Elizabeth heard Cathair's stomach growl. She remembered they never had time the night before to eat anything. She definitely owed him some breakfast.
 
She looked up at him, and smiled at the sheepish look on his face. “Ready for breakfast, I hear.”
 
He smiled. “What do the people of New York eat in the mornings?”
 
“We have a few different things from you, but we still eat eggs and meat,” she wrinkled her nose, “and bread. I don't really have anything in the fridge for you, but we can go out and get some food.”
 
He tilted his head slightly. “Hunting?”
 
She rolled her eyes. “No, like… eating at a tavern.”
 
“I'm assuming there will be no serving wenches?”
 
She smacked his stomach. “No, no serving wenches.”
 
He groaned. “Please tell me that they have meat?”
 
This time, she groaned. “Yes, I won't take you to eat straight rabbit food. After we eat, we'll buy some groceries so you don't starve. You have to cook your own meat, though. I refuse to touch it.”
 
They dressed quickly, and thankfully, no taxis were required for the journey. The restaurant was within easy walking distance, although she had to practically run to keep up with his long strides. They stopped in front of an IHOP, and he eyed the building warily.
 
“They sell a meat lover's special in here. You'll love it, trust me.” She basically dragged the tall man inside and into a booth. She ordered them both coffee and milk, giving the waitress a glare when she started to drool over Cathair.
 
“Ok, so taking you out is like taking out a chick magnet,” she grumbled, glaring at the waitress's retreating form. While she wasn't looking, he took her hand and rubbed his stubbled cheek against her palm and wrist, sending chills all over her body.
 
“Yes, but there's only one chick I wish to be with,” he kissed the inside of her palm, lingering over her wrist with his lips before releasing it. She blushed profusely and saw most of the women and waitresses glaring at her, only made worse when he slid into her side of the booth and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a peck on the cheek. It suddenly dawned on her what he was doing, and she raised her flushed face and slid her own arm around his waist, giving the staring women a he's-all-mine-bitches smirk.
 
She helped him order, groaning at how much dead pig he was going to consume, and then ordered her considerably lighter, guilt-free breakfast. He liked the coffee, taking it black, which didn't surprise her. Probably another male macho thing, how little sugar he can use to make drinking it easier.
 
Their food arrived, and she showed him how to use the fork and knife. He got the hang of it fairly quickly, and managed not to make too big of a mess eating his bacon and sausage and ham. He offered her, multiple times, a bite of the meat, and she flatly refused all twenty-seven times.
 
She paid for their breakfast, narrowing her eyes at the giant discount the waitress gave him and not her. She didn't have the heart not to tip the woman, though. She remembered working in a restaurant well.
 
As they left, he snaked his arm around her waist on their way to the grocery store. She smiled and leaned into him. Maybe this is why he was sent to her. So she could finally see how the other half lived. She had to admit, waking up to a warm body next to hers had been very, very nice. She bit her lip at the thought of him leaving. How would she handle it?
 
Elizabeth shook her head. It was only day two, and neither of them knew when or if he would go back to his life. She could only enjoy what time the two of them had, and savor every moment.
 
Cathair noticed the veil of sadness fall over her face before she narrowed her eyes in determination. What could the lass be thinking? Anything, really. She was as hard to follow as a stag in the wood. But that was what made her so interesting and pleasant to be around.
 
Every woman Cathair had ever known, mother and sisters included, rarely raised their modest gazes to him. It was the way of their land. Only the whores ever dared to look a man in the eye. He had never been desperate enough to bed a prostitute.
 
No woman he had ever bedded made him feel like this. Like there was more to him than a title and a body. Elizabeth seemed to genuinely care more about his comfort and mind than bedding him and becoming his baen caeille. Many a lass had pouted over the fact he refused to marry simply because they couldn't manage to keep their legs together.
 
He wondered what she would be like as a wife. Would she be like his mother, rarely speaking and always yielding to her husband, or would she be like a fishmonger's wife, proper in public but abusive behind closed doors? He doubted she could ever be either. She had too much spirit to bend to any man's will, and she rarely yelled at him. She hadn't even managed to insult him. Yet.
 
Elizabeth tugged him to a stop in front of a building with a giant blue and yellow sign. He could speak the language, but he couldn't read it.
 
She turned to him, eyes glowing. “Do you want to see how your country has changed over a thousand years?”
 
He blinked at her. “Is that possible?”
 
She nodded. “I'll explain it later.” She grabbed for his shirt sleeve, but ended up grabbing his hand instead. She blushed prettily, and before he could stop himself, he pulled her by her hand and kissed her.
 
Elizabeth's eyes widened as he fisted his hands against the small of her back, just above the swell of her bottom. Her heart beat a frenzied tempo, and she shook slightly with the overwhelming feelings. Finally, she gave in, and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck.
 
Cathair could hardly breathe as he felt her warm and lush body against his own hard one. By Cernnunos's horns, she was amazing! Strong yet vulnerable, and full of intelligence. He could hardly believe she was real as he fisted his hand in her hair. He let his lips roam over hers deeply before parting her lips and snaking his tongue in her mouth. She whimpered, sure her body would be on fire at any minute-
 
“Hey! Get a room!” a chubby balding man hissed as he walked in the store. Elizabeth pulled away, flushing, her eyes downcast. Cathair growled at the man's retreating back before giving her a sweet kiss on the side of her mouth.
 
“Let's get these errands done,” he growled. “Quickly.”
 
She laughed and led him inside by the hand, feeling warmth flood her as he rubbed his thumb along her palm. She pulled him to a stop in front of the documentary section and scanned the shelves, looking for one in particular. Finding it, she lit up and stood on her toes, trying to reach it on the top shelf.
 
Suddenly, she felt something like a warm wall press against her back, and a hand run along hers until it reached the tape. She quickly darted out from under Cathair, willing herself not to blush. She backed up a bit, and squeaked when she accidentally ran into the person behind her.
 
“Watch where you're going, you fat bitch!” Elizabeth's blood froze in her veins, and she couldn't take in enough air to fill her lungs. She turned around and almost started crying where she was.
 
Leon.
 
His cold black eyes bore into her soul, and all the memories she tried to keep in the back of her mind surfaced. Leon punching her in her apartment… trying to rape her… the police finally arriving… being in the hospital for three weeks…
 
He gave her a quick once-over, curling his lip. “They finally let me out a week ago, no thanks to your sorry ass. You weren't even worth my fucking time. You should be grateful I even bothered to teach your ass a lesson.”
 
Elizabeth backed away, all the color draining from her face. Cathair put his hand at the small of her back, eyes narrowed dangerously at the stranger.
 
“I suggest you either make yourself scarce, or get used to lying on the ground.” His tone lethal, he gently pushed Elizabeth behind him, stepping forward so he towered over the short blonde man.
 
Leon laughed. “What are you, her fucking gay avenger? Do you two PMS at the same time, or is it different times of the month?” Cathair didn't deem to answer him. “That slut didn't know how good she had it. So what if I hit her? Some women *ask for it.”
 
That's all it took. Cathair grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him outside, tossing him on the ground. Leon jumped up and lowered his head, ramming Cathair in this stomach. He gave a grunt of pain before he wrapped his hand around the little man's neck, raising him until his feet dangled helplessly before slamming his fist into his nose, breaking it. Leon howled until Cathair cut off his air.
 
“Cathair, stop!” Elizabeth put her hand on his arm. He looked at her in surprise, then softened when he saw her tears. “Please, he's not worth it. Just put him down…”
 
With an angry snarl, he tossed the beaten man on the ground. Leon scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He turned to Elizabeth to ask why he just let the sorriest excuse for a man go when she fell into his arms, sobbing and fisting her hands in his shirt. His heart gave a painful lurch as he held the broken woman, kissing her head and smoothing her hair.