Catch & Hold-Legend (Legend series) (29 page)

“But what?”

“Why would you want the job? It can be lonely here in the Highlands.”

“You have a village nearby where I’m sure I can find a pub and make some friends, and there is Inverness on my days off.”

He frowned and made a circle, came right up to her, and leaned in close. As his six-foot-something towered over her five-foot-five, he said, “I doona think it is a good idea for a woman to live alone … up here away from … the world.”

“As I said,” she answered softly, looking up into his gold eyes until she thought she could feel his heart beating between them, “I know how to take care of myself, and I need this job.”

“Why? Why do you need this job?”

“The pay is more than I could presently make in the States. Economy not so good just now, and I’m working on my first novel.”

“I don’t have Internet set up in the gatehouse,” he said firmly.

“Ah, but I looked into getting satellite for TV and Internet—no problem. If you give me the job they’ll be out there tomorrow.”

“I doona like this,” he answered, moving another step closer.

She moved into him and looked long into his warm, gold eyes. “But you might change your mind.”

“I doona think so.”

“Give me a chance, and if it doesn’t work, well you can always fire me, boss,” she said and gave him a look that she hoped would blow his resolve away.

She put out her hand. “Deal? I need to hurry and get someone out to the house to install the dish, and I need to go shopping.”

* * *

He studied her for a long moment and realized he’d decided to give her the job the moment he realized that was what she wanted. He gave her his hand, and when their hands clasped he felt a bolt of lightning shoot through his arm and aim straight at his heart. He was in trouble. This one … this little American … did something to him she wasn’t supposed to be able to do. Only ‘the one’, his intended only one, the one he was meant to take as mate, should affect him the way this one affected him. He was momentarily off his game.

She smiled warmly and said, “Key?”

He went to a side table, retrieved it, and dropped it in her open palm. He didn’t want to touch her, was afraid to touch her, afraid that he would not be able to control himself, because at that moment all he could think of doing was tearing off her clothes, laying her down on the wood planking, and ramming into her …

What was wrong with him? He watched her sway as she walked to the door, and then she said over her shoulder, “If you need me … you know where I’ll be, but I don’t start till tomorrow. I have to get settled first.”

He watched from the side window as she got into her car and drove off. Then he leaned back against the wall and blew out air …
What the hell?

Get to know Prince Breslyn in
Prince in the Mist

~ Prologue ~

Rule Breaking!

IF YOU HAVE read the
Legend
books, then I need no introduction, but for those of you who haven’t, I will give you a brief description of who and what I am.

I am a Royal Fae Prince of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. I am a Council member (although I rarely attend the boring meetings). I am, as a Seelie Fae, well over six feet six inches and taller than most male Fae, who are as a race quite unusually tall and warrior built.

My dark blonde hair is long, and I usually slick it back and keep it tethered at the back of my neck with leathers. My eyes are silver, my face chiseled and, I have been told, very handsome.

I wear a gold torque with the etchings of my Royal House, Dagda. I like tattoos and wear a band of Celtic knots and ancient runes around my biceps.

What is really important is this: I adore humans, especially female humans.

That gets me into all kinds of trouble with my Queen Aaibhe, who feels my interactions with humans are a break from our treaty and an infringement on the rules of Destiny.

I can’t help it—and I don’t want to. I have discovered a passion for watching humans, but it wasn’t until Robert of Bruce began to take hold of Scotland that I became involved …

Ah, but those were wild, hot times, just like I like them.

And the women—ah
,
and the women
!

It is our law, an important part of our written Treaty with Man, that we shall not interfere in any way with humans. However, I am a firm believer that rules … need to be broken when they interfere with what is important. I choose to be the arbitrator of what is important.

I am well over ten thousand years old. Looking back, I can see how I have grown and changed, and after some convincing, I agreed it might be amusing to record how I have come to this present time and place …

So much of our history with man dates back to the time of the Great Wars in our beloved Danu. We allowed our fury to take center stage, and in the end, Danu was destroyed.

It is said by man that the Fae came to Ireland on a cloud. In a manner of speaking that is true. We arrived in numbers and in a mist that protected our journey through what your scientists might call a ‘wormhole’.

We came first to Ireland and strayed onto Scotland, and I for one (as did many of my kind) fell in love with the land. We were held by the inhabitants of the time as gods. Our exploits and praises were heralded by minstrels and poets taking tales of our magic from town to town.

I only know that, from the start, I was drawn to the people of that era, their passions and their lust for life …

Immortality wears on a Fae. So many things are forgotten in the passing of time, and because of that, we have been brought to a moment in time when our World and the human world have been attacked.

Now, in the present, we having been fighting a new kind of war and one we had not expected. It is our own fault. When we came to Ireland, the Dark Unseelie Fae—monsters who were imprisoned in their Dark Realm—were attached to us, so to speak. Now they are led by a Seelie traitor, and their ominous threat grows each day. They could change the world as we know it. We have been working to stop them, and during this process Ete has decided it is time for me to write my memoirs; she says it is important to have the past in writing.

She wants me to start at the beginning, but some things are difficult to recall and others better left forgotten.

I have decided to start with the humans I came to think of as my human family, in the year of 1314. I shall start with the MacCleans as I learned so much from them—their life experiences, their joys and woes.

It was a time long after the Treaty, and it was a time when I no longer allowed myself to be shackled by the rules of the non-interference clause.

I had already broken them a couple of centuries past for Moon …a beauty, but not quite human; however, that is a tale already told.

This time, I broke nearly all of the blasted rules intentionally and not only became involved with my MacClean humans … I very nearly became one of them. I chose a side in their battle to retain control of their homeland, and that side was with Robert the Bruce, true King of Scotland.

Damn—those were roaring days filled with abandonment!

It was then in that year of 1314 I first saw Chartelle and was struck nearly dumb by her beauty. She was tall and ethereal, and her hair …

But here is where I hand over the pen … and allow the first of my great stories to unfold.

~ One ~

1314

THE PRINCE OF Dagda stood overlooking the Highland encased in its morning mist with the valley stretched out before him. To say that he was a striking figure of the best of male attributes would not do justice to his appearance. He was phenomenal of mind and body.

He knew who he was looking for—he had seen and watched her some days past and had made it his business to discover her name and her circumstance:
Chartelle.

He watched as she walked over the rise and into full view, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. She was an exceptional beauty that captured his breath and fed it back to him in slow degrees.

Her hair, long and silky, was bright yellow like a freshly opened buttercup and flew around her delicate shoulders in the strong wind. She hugged her dark and heavy cloak around herself as she walked, and her movements displayed her grace.

He already knew she was only twenty but had been married for three years to the Laird of Dumfries, Francis Bouthe. Her marriage had been one of convenience, one that joined two important Scottish names.

He already knew that three years ago, Chartelle had agreed without demurring to do her part for her father, whose concerns were with the land. Still, he had believed that he’d arranged an advantageous marriage for his beloved daughter. She married Bouthe and dutifully gave her husband a son, now a year old.

The prince had investigated and discovered what secrets Bouthe of Dumfries hid and surmised that Chartelle’s husband did not share a marriage bed with his wife. His tastes were not for women.

And the prince was fully aware that the beauty had accepted the circumstance as her lot in life.

He smiled now to himself because he meant to bring about change … rules of non-interference be damned.

He watched her as she came to an abrupt halt and stood at the foothills of the great Grampian Mountains in the cold, misty spring day. Clouds hung low and dark, and a sure warning of rain hung in the atmosphere.

The beauty appeared lost to her thoughts. He watched the flitting expressions cross her face, and he imagined he heard the sadness in the long sigh she appeared to release.

However, the Fae prince was moved to frown darkly when he saw a tear roll down her lovely cheek.

Damnation and bloody hell! He meant to replace those tears with smiles. The Royal Fae Prince of Dagda, watching from another dimension, made his decision. He had been, like so many of the Fae, trying to keep aloof from humans. He had taken up watching humans because they were entertaining, yes, but they drew on emotions he had buried in Fae discipline. However, immortality brought with it boredom of the worst kind, and there was no doubt human watching had alleviated that ennui.

It was only another step that had sent him rushing in and becoming involved with their daily lives. He discovered he had strong opinions about their politics and religion and that the men he encountered were willing to listen … and Breslyn found himself in his element.

Steps … he thought he was breaking rules with only small steps when he’d suddenly looked about himself and roared with joy. He had dived into it all enthusiastically, and he reveled in it. He had taken on the Scot call for freedom …

He had denounced the King of England’s hold on the Scots. He had stood with Scotsmen in the local pub near Belfor and denounced the English taxes and picked up on the battle cry.

He had donned human Glamour and had been received as one of them … and he had become thoroughly embroiled in leaps and bounds and loved it.

In another giant step he found himself befriending Robert the Bruce. And then he’d enlisted the Knights Templar to join in the Scottish battle against the Brits. After their French king had ousted them and confiscated a great deal of their wealth, they had looked for a new home. The Prince of Fae invited them to make that home in Scotland and help in the war against the English. It was easily done because the Knights of Templar knew what he was and had been protecting Fae relics and Hallows for years.

Forgotten was his race’s law of non-interference. Forgotten were his Queen Aaibhe’s demands that none tinker with the fates; Breslyn had quite made up his mind that this was in fact his destiny, and he meant to follow it. And now there was one more rule he meant to explode to smithereens. Breslyn called for his Fae horse and donned his human Glamour and the clothes of the time before he easily jumped onto his snowy gray stallion.

Oh—but even as a man, he was outstanding. Taller than all, straight in his saddle, his dark blonde hair slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck. His eyes glittered with anticipation as his horse snorted in the cool, damp air and stamped the earth with his front hooves. They made quite a picture in the morning mist.

With scarcely a movement he shifted them (Fae form of locomotion—think of an open wormhole or tunnel and stepping thru to the destination of your choice on the other side) to the open pasture just outside the Belfor gates and rode over the crest of the hill towards the lady whose eyes spoke to his heart.

She turned, saw him astride his magnificent horse, and hurriedly brushed away the tears as he got closer. He saw her put on an amiable face, and his heart reached out to hold her. Then he was off his horse and bowing with grace and agility. He didn’t hope he made a dashing figure of a man—Breslyn knew he damn well made a dashing figure of a man … and he did.

“My lady …” he said softly as he unbent and looked into her green, wet eyes. He felt a frown flit across his face. “May I be of service?” He put on a bit of a Scottish accent but incongruously allowed his own ‘old world Danu’ to shine through. He was proud of who and what he was.