Macha, a warrior goddess and patron of horses, has been sent by the Dagda, highest of the Irish deities, to find true love on Earth. Like her sisters, she has twenty-one days to find a mortal to love her or she will perish. Like Aeval and Cliodna before her, Macha must face not only the perils of existence on earth but a treacherous enemy of the gods and goddesses who plots against them.
When 'Mac' meets Michael Moran, a man who shares her love of horses, she falls for him as she has never fallen for a mortal. She knows that her need to dominate and control may push him away but old habits die hard.
Michael has come to the Everglades with his daughter to race with their Arabian endurance horses. How could he have known that he would find an enchanting exciting, seductive woman there? Or that with her she would bring all the fury of Baylor, her father’s enemy, and the Fomorians, his fierce army of evil fairies?
Together they must face not only the dangers of the swamp and the wild wetlands but the evil that lurks beneath . . .
“Will you come to my room? Or shall I come to yours?” he asked.
Still, she was frozen.
“Oh, screw this,” he said finally and he slid his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him. His mouth found hers and suddenly his tongue probed and explored. With one hand on her butt, he tugged her closer. She felt him, hard beneath his pajama bottoms.
He pulled her into his bedroom and they tumbled to the bed. He tugged the nightie that Starlyn had lent her over her head and she lay naked beneath him.
She felt him staring at her breasts and her belly. His hand moved over her breasts and pulled at her nipples. Then his mouth covered them and he suckled hungrily.
She moaned as he drew on her nipple, tugging and biting and nibbling. She wrapped her hand around his erection and played with the tip. Already it was wet with pleasure.
“I’ll come in your hand if you don’t let go of me. I want to be inside you, Mac.”
He lifted his chest and stared at her, his thumb gently brushing against her mouth. “Or should I call you Macha, Queen of Ulster?”
“No,” she whispered. “That part of me is gone.”
He laughed quietly. “Oh, I hope not. That part of you is very important to me.”
She smiled and reached for his hand, then placed it between her legs.