Elphame's Choice (31 page)

ELPHAME CROSSED THE
Main Courtyard, calling good mornings in response to the workers who greeted her. She stopped by the gaily tinkling fountain. She’d have to remember to commission Danann to carve a stone bench so that she could sit and enjoy the beauty right here, in the heart of her castle. The gray morning cast a reluctant light through the unfinished roof, but it could not dim the brightness that glowed within her. Her smile reflected her secret joy, and she did not notice that several men who were making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast lost the thread of their conversation to stare, openmouthed at her brilliant beauty. Elphame trailed her fingers through the fountain’s water, thinking of how long she had had to soak in her bathing pool that morning to rid her body of the unfamiliar tenderness that lingered from the night’s lovemaking.

Lochlan…
She wanted to shout his name aloud and tell all of Partholon that she loved and was loved in kind. That it had
really happened—Epona had fashioned a lifemate for her; she would not have to live her life as a solitary creature, filling her days with the reflection of other people’s love.

Clan MacCallan had to accept him as her mate. And if they didn’t? Would she be willing to forsake her position as Chieftain and return to the Wastelands with her lover? The thought sent a shiver through her blood. With a sigh, she sat on the lip of the fountain’s basin and stared up at marble girl she so closely resembled.

“What would you do if you were torn between two worlds?” she whispered.

“Sister-mine!”

Cuchulainn’s blaring voice startled El, but the frown she turned on him quickly changed to a bright smile when she saw that Brenna walked at his side, her hand within his. Cu’s hair looked damp and there was a cub-sized lump within his tunic.

“Good morning, Elphame,” Brenna said.

El could tell by the flush that darkened the unscarred side of the Healer’s face that her emotions were running high—she could well imagine how nerve-racking it must be for her. Much like Elphame, Brenna had never expected to find love, and when she had, it had come from a most unusual place. It was—to say the least—a turn of events that took some getting used to.

“Good morning, Brenna,” she said warmly. Then her eyes glinted with humor. “It is good to see you, even if you have taken to spending time with questionable individuals and wild animals.”

“Be serious, El,” Cuchulainn said. “She’ll think you really mean it.”

Elphame grinned at Brenna. “I do mean it.”

Brenna smiled back at her, and her face lost some of its nervous color.

Cuchulainn cleared his throat and then, to his sister’s
surprise, he dropped Brenna’s hand and quickly covered the space between them to kneel on one knee in front of her. She quirked an eyebrow at him, but, noting his somber expression, she said nothing, waiting for his next move.

“Elphame, I come to formally ask your permission as Chieftain of Clan MacCallan to court your Healer, Brenna. You should know that I do so with the honorable intention of marriage.”

Elphame wanted to shout with joy and throw her arms around her brother, but she would not dishonor the solemnity of his request, nor would she show disrespect to her friend who stood so silently waiting for the answer that would prove that she was either accepted or rejected, once and for all. Elphame’s gaze met Brenna’s.

“Have you no living mother or father to whom Cuchulainn could take his suit?”

“No. I was the only child of my parents. They have been dead for a decade.”

“Then it is proper as The MacCallan that I stand in their stead. Brenna, do you willingly accept Cuchulainn’s suit? And, before you answer know that I will support you, no matter your choice.” She didn’t need to glance at her brother to feel his scowl.

Brenna’s doelike eyes shifted from her Chieftain to the warrior who knelt in front of her. He did not turn to look at her, but kept his gaze trained on his sister. She could see the tense set of his broad shoulders and she realized that that tension was because he truly was worried about her response. The knowledge that he did not take her for granted filled her heart and she had to blink rapidly to keep her tears from falling. Cuchulainn had chosen her above all women, and now he was waiting to hear whether she would accept him.

“Yes,” she said in a strong, clear voice. “I do accept Cuchulainn’s suit, with all my heart.”

“Then, as her Chieftain, I give you, Cuchulainn, permission to court Brenna. And as your sister I want you to know how very happy your choice has made me.” On impulse, Elphame raised her hands and tilted her face to the hazy morning light trickling in from above them. “I ask Epona’s blessing on your union.”

The moment Elphame evoked the Goddess’s name, she felt the warmth of power tingle through her body, and the foggy morning sky suddenly blurred. For the length of time it took to draw a breath, time seemed to suspend. In that frozen moment Elphame felt a great rush of sadness and heard the sound of weeping.

She blinked and the illusion was gone, leaving only a sense of loss and a chill in her blood. Cuchulainn was watching her with a strange expression and Elphame hastily covered her discomfort by clapping her brother on his shoulder. “Arise, Cu, you’ve chosen well.”

The clan members who had stopped to watch broke into spontaneous cheers. Soon the three of them were surrounded by a host of well-wishers and Elphame found it easy to shake off the eerie feeling the fleeting vision had left her.

“El, you know what this means?” Cu put one arm around Brenna and tucked the other through his sister’s. “We may as well call Mother. If she hears by any other means, she will never leave us in peace.”

Elphame smiled through the irony of her brother’s words. “Yes, let’s call Mama. I was just thinking that it was time she came for a visit.”

Elphame stood alone in the Chieftain’s Tower. This time she didn’t gaze out from the balcony that overlooked the forest; instead she leaned against the casement of one of the long, narrow windows that faced the B’an Sea. The day hadn’t
cleared; it had only lightened enough to allow the sky to serve as a brilliant backdrop to illuminate the storm that was rolling in from the west. Huge, billowing clouds pregnant with rain were being blown ever closer to the coast. Elphame and Cuchulainn had ordered the clan to double-check the moorings of the tents and had even moved several of them within the castle walls. Restoration work paused while they readied themselves for the spring storm.

Lightning rippled across the sky and then down to slice the distant water. It reminded Elphame of another night that had been filled with rain and thunder and pain—as well as the miracle of her first meeting with Lochlan. She knew she should curse the storm for slowing her work on the castle, but she could not deny the excitement within her that seemed to build with each crash of thunder and flash of lightning. She would go to him, and she would only have to wait until the sky opened with cloaking rain to do so. It hadn’t been hard to be assured of privacy, although she did feel a twinge of guilt at telling Brenna that her headache had returned. The Healer had assured her that it was the change in weather irritating her recently healed wound, and had kindly brewed her a tea to help her sleep deeply through the evening and night. Elphame had, of course, not touched the tea. Brenna would not check on her until morning, Cuchulainn’s hot gaze and whispered words had made it clear that the two new lovers would be very busy throughout the night.

No more than seven days, she reminded herself. She only had to keep up her charade for just a few more days. Then she would reveal her secret and trust that her family would accept it, as they had accepted her all of her life.

“Do ye not think the tower is a good place fer thinking, lass?”

This time the start of surprise at the old spirit’s appearance lasted only a moment, and she realized that she must have been hoping for his company.

“Yes, I do think so. Did you come here often?”

He nodded his head and quirked a semitransparent eyebrow at her.
“Aye, that I did. Especially when I had a problem that wouldna let me be.”

“Did you always want to be The MacCallan?”

Both brows raised as he studied her, considering the question.
“Aye, that I did.”

“Did you…” She paused, and turned from the view of the turbulent sea to look into his eyes. “Did you ever feel like you wanted to run away?”

“Aye, lassie.”
His smile was filled with understanding.

“But you didn’t.”

His eyes sparkled. “
And neither will you. To be The MacCallan is in yer blood. You canna deny your fate, any more that I could escape mine
.” He crossed over to her and put a cool hand gently on her shoulder. “
It would do ye well to remember that lass. Fate can be a cruel mistress. She brings great sadness as well as great joy
.”

The brief vision she had experienced earlier in the day suddenly surfaced in her memory and she felt the chill in her blood return.

“Today Cuchulainn declared his intention to court and marry Brenna, and she accepted him.”

The old spirit nodded thoughtfully, but remained silent.

Elphame drew a deep breath, trying to decide if she truly wanted to know anything more. She was in love; Cuchulainn was in love. Wouldn’t it be easier if she just drifted on the tide of their mutual happiness, at least for a few more days? She let out the breath she’d drawn. She already knew the answer to that question—it resonated through her blood. Elphame could not choose ignorance, even if it was deceptively blissful.

“I evoked Epona’s blessing on their joining, and when I did I experienced an odd illusion.”

“Odd?”

She swallowed. “Odd as in disturbing. I heard weeping and I was filled with a great sadness. Then it was gone as quickly as it came.”

The spirit took his hand from her shoulder and shifted his gaze so that he was staring out at the B’an Sea.

“Did no others see the sign?”

Numbly, Elphame shook her head. “No one seemed to notice anything. The people around us cheered. Cu didn’t say anything about it, and all Brenna did was glow with happiness.”

The old ghost turned to face her.

“Epona sent the sign for me alone.” She spoke her inner most terrifying thoughts aloud to the silent spirit. “It is a foretelling of what is to come. The Goddess is preparing me.”

“’Tis the responsibility of The MacCallan alone. And it will be yer strength that will be needed when the time comes.”
His echoing voice sounded sad and weary.

“I could stop them!” She felt cold and nauseous. “As The MacCallan I could forbid their joining.”

“At what price, lass? You canna trick fate, but ye can cause much unhappiness in trying to do so. I do know yer pain. I had a sister, a bonny young lass who was as dear to me as was my own heart. Would that I could have saved Morrigan pain.”

Elphame’s heart pounded. His sister—Lochlan’s mother. Did he know? What was he really trying to tell her?

The old spirit’s gaze drifted back out to sea.
“Ready yourself for the storm, ’tis coming….”

Before she could question him further, the spirit’s form faded and drifted through the floor of the tower, leaving Elphame alone with her silent sadness. Thunder cracked and the sky finally opened, pelting the castle with rain. Elphame turned from the window and made her way slowly down the winding stairs. Her shoulders slumped; she was cold and empty.
She didn’t feel strong and she didn’t feel like the Clan Chieftain—she felt like a frightened sister.

And it will be yer strength that will be needed when the time comes.

The ghost’s words whispered incessantly through her troubled mind. She wanted peace from them….

There was only one place she would be sure to find peace that night.

THE RAIN MADE
a comforting, pattering sound against the tent as Brenna watched Cuchulainn wrap the milk-filled cub into the cozy bed she had made for the little creature. It felt so strange to have a man in her tent—not bad strange, just different…disconcerting…disturbingly intimate. Yet he was there by her invitation, in her tent as well as in her life. Fand whimpered and Cuchulainn stroked her behind the ears, whispering melodically what Brenna was surprised to recognize as a children’s lullaby. She smiled. The warrior had such an incredible capacity for gentleness—that was one of the things that separated him from other men. He had a depth of emotion within him that didn’t match the rugged exterior of a warrior. His ability to love the cub, and to love her, was evidence of the difference within him, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks to Epona for fashioning him.

Cuchulainn stood slowly, and with exaggerated stealth
walked over to join Brenna where she sat primly on the edge of her bed. He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

“Thank you for making that bed for her. It was a messy thing to have a wolf cub sleep all night on my chest.” His voice was just above a whisper. He looked around, taking in the tidiness of the small tent. The bed was identical to his, only Brenna’s was neatly made and had a pillow stuffed with fragrant herbs resting in the middle of it. She had two chests; one was at the foot of her bed, the other had been placed near her desk. It was open, and Cuchulainn could see that it was filled with jars and bottles, strips of linen and a wicked-looking assortment of small knives. He raised his brows. “Is that where your legendary teas originate?”

“Yes, as well as poultices and salves and many other things that heal.”

“Do you have any dragon’s blood or tongue of toads?”

“Probably, if I look closely enough. Would you like me to check? I could brew you up something with them,” she asked, pretending innocence.

“No!” he said, then lowered his voice again when Fand stirred. “But I would very much like to see the gifts Epona gave you that remind you of my eyes.”

Brenna’s breath caught. She shouldn’t be surprised that he remembered; she shouldn’t be surprised at anything he said or did. But his love was so unexpected that she couldn’t help feeling like she was living a dream, and that she would wake soon to find that he had been nothing more than a beautiful illusion.

“Brenna? You do not have to, not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I want to share them with you.” She stood and took his hand so that she could guide him around the bed to the corner of the tent that was cloaked in shadows. She knelt, motioning for Cuchulainn to kneel
beside her. Then she lit the four small candles, one for each of the four directions, and her altar blazed into life.

Brenna pointed to the first item.

“I carved this mare’s head from the memory of a recurring dream I used to have when I was a child. In the dream there was always a beautiful woman riding the mare. She had golden-red hair with an unruly curl.” Brenna smiled shyly. “I couldn’t reproduce the beauty of the woman’s face, so I focused on the mare.”

“May I touch it?” he asked.

Brenna nodded.

He reverently picked up the wood carving, studying it carefully. “You did a good job of recreating the Chosen Mare. You even managed the arrogant arch of her neck.”

“Epona’s Chosen? But I didn’t mean to carve the Chosen Mare.”

Cu smiled at her and touched her face. “How could you not? You dreamed of her, as you dreamed of my mother.”

“No—I—”

“Do you still remember the dream well?”

“Yes.”

“Think about the woman’s eyes.”

Brenna concentrated on calling up the memory of the dream she had had so often during her painful childhood. It wasn’t hard to do. It had always given her pleasure. The mare and the woman had been so beautiful, and they had always seemed so happy, so free from the horrors Brenna had been enduring. She thought about the woman, and pictured her clearly in her mind, focusing on her eyes…

And Brenna’s own eyes widened in surprise. “She has your eyes!” They weren’t exactly the same color, Etain’s eyes were more green than blue, but their shape was definitely the same.

“Actually, as she will tell you, I have her eyes.”

Brenna felt a little tremor run through her body. She had dreamed of Cuchulainn’s mother, over and over again.

Cuchulainn carefully placed the mare’s head back on the altar. First, he ran one finger over the turquoise stone, and then he gently touched the brilliant blue feather. “You were right, Brenna, these do carry the color of my eyes.” Then his attention shifted to the single, perfect drop-shaped pearl, and the warrior began to chuckle.

“What is it?” Brenna asked.

“Oh, love! We are fated to be together.” He touched her face. “You dreamed of my mother and you carry a carving of the Chosen Mare on your altar. You collect things that are the exact shade of my eyes, and now the pearl.” He chuckled again. “My father will bring with him a ring I plan on presenting to you. It has been in his family for generations. It is a silver band, intricately carved with intertwining ivy leaves, and set in the middle of it is a single pearl in the shape of a perfect tear. The exact twin of the one you have here.”

“I found it,” she said, almost unable to talk through the joy that beat into her throat from her breast. “It was the year I became a woman. I was alone, and very unhappy. I was sitting beside a steam, and something caught my eye. I looked down and there it was.”

Cuchulainn pulled her into his arms and held her against him.

“Never again. I promise you, Brenna, you will never be unhappy again.”

Pressed tightly against him, sharing the strength of his body as well as his love, Brenna felt the last vestiges of the icy cage that had entrapped her heart thaw and break. She looked up at the man she had decided to trust and to love.

“Would you do something for me, Cuchulainn?”

“Anything, love.”

She took a deep breath. “Make love to me.”

Instead of answering her, he stood, lifting her with him. With her held securely within the circle of his arm, he led her to the small, neatly made bed.

“Blow out the candles,” she whispered.

He raised her chin with his finger. “We will be spending the rest of our lives together. I will see you, Brenna, all of you—and often. I know this is difficult for you, but I would begin tonight with nothing but honesty between us.”

The rain beat against the tent, isolating them in their own little world. Brenna pushed down her fear and met his steady gaze.

“Would you blow out some of them?”

He smiled and kissed her forehead before hurrying around the room to blow out all but a single candle held within a glass lamp. This he carried to the small table that sat beside the bed. For a few moments they stood together, face-to-face, just looking at each other.

“I’m nervous.” Brenna smiled hesitantly and reached up to touch his face.

Cuchulainn took her hand and pressed it against his heart. She could feel its rapid beat.

“I’m nervous, too, love.”

“Then maybe you should kiss me. It’s better when we touch.”

Cuchulainn bent to kiss her and Brenna stepped eagerly into his arms. She had meant what she said to him, when they were touching like this his closeness and the power that radiated from his body overcame her fear. As before, his lips made her forget that she was scarred. All she could think of was the taste and the touch of him—and how he made her body sing in response.

Somewhere in the haze of his kisses, she could feel his hands roaming restlessly over her clothing, molding a breast against
the heat of his palm, cupping her bottom. She moaned as she pressed close against his growing hardness. Soon her own hands were exploring his body. They found the clasp that held his kilt to his shoulder, and loosened the plaid. Cuchulainn helped her unwind it from around his body, then he pulled the linen shirt from his chest, and almost without consciously understanding how, Brenna was pressed against his naked body, letting her hands travel the length of him to take delight in the controlled strength of his hard, muscular lines.

Abruptly Cu turned, so that he was sitting on the bed and she was standing between his legs. His hands rested over the lacing that held her dress closed at her throat.

“Let me see you, love.” His voice was husky with passion. “Let me feel your naked body against mine.”

Trying to still the trembling that his words had started within her, she bit her lip and nodded her head. Cuchulainn unlaced the prim bodice, helping her to shrug out of it before he unwound her skirt. She stood before him in her high-necked chemise. Slowly, Brenna lifted the soft fabric from her body and over her head, and let it drop to the floor beside her. Then she stood before him, very still, with her eyes tightly closed. When she felt the soft caress of his fingers following the edge of the thick scar tissue that went from her face, down her neck, and covered from her right breast all the way across the top of her arm and stretched almost to her waist, she could not contain the tremors that skittered through her body.

“Ah, love.” His voice sounded raw. “I wish I could have been there. I would have found a way to prevent it, or comforted you afterwards and somehow tried to lessen your pain.”

Tears leaked from her closed eyes as he leaned forward to kiss the path his fingers had traveled. When she finally opened her eyes to look down at him, she saw that his face, too, was wet with tears.

“You’re here now,” she said.

“And I will be here forevermore.”

Brenna sank onto the bed with him, reveling in the sensation of having his naked skin pressed against her—all of her. He did not turn from her, nor did his desire for her wane.

For the rest of the night, Brenna kept her eyes open.

Lochlan raised his head in surprise. It was not yet dark, but he could feel her. Through the wind and the rain she had just called his name. The power of her summons tingled through his blood. His wings stirred and began unfurling even before he leaped from his hidden cave and began the ground-eating running glide that would take him to Elphame. His body welcomed the cool touch of the rain. He yearned to wrap her in his arms, to feel her stroke his wings and caress his body. This time he wanted to take her completely; he wanted to taste her blood. He shouldn’t—he knew that. It was demonic, base, wrong. His breathing deepened. With an effort that caused the pain in his temples to spike familiarly, Lochlan stumbled to a halt. He had to get control of himself. He could not go to her wrapped in a haze of passion and bloodlust. He closed his eyes and bowed his head against the pain that denying what his blood demanded caused him.

He loved her! He forced his thoughts from the sleek heat of her body to her smile, and the trust that showed so clearly in her eyes. She was his wife, handfasted with him before Epona. His breathing steadied. They would talk. Perhaps tonight he would find a way to tell her of the Prophecy; together they could surely discover a way to save his people without the sacrifice he had already sworn he would not commit.

He began the gliding run again, this time with his dark needs repressed. She called to him, and he must answer her, but he would do so as a man, not as a monster.

She was standing beside the opening to the hidden passageway. Rain ran down her face and her body, and Lochlan thought she looked like she was covered in tears. When she saw him she smiled, but there was a great sadness within her that formed an almost palpable aura around her. Without speaking, he went to her and enfolded her within his arms. His wings rose over her, shielding her from the cold touch of the rain, but still her body shivered.

“Come back to my shelter with me. It is a simple cave, but it is dry and warm.” He kissed the top of her head and held her closely against him.

She lifted her head, and he could see that she had been crying. Her tears had mixed with rain, blanketing her face in sadness.

“Would you return with me to my chamber, instead?” she asked in a voice heavy with emotion. “Tonight I need the walls of my castle around me, as well as your arms.”

“Do you wish to tell Cuchulainn tonight, my heart?”

She shook her head in short, fast jerks. “No, I’ve sent for my parents. We’ll still wait for them to arrive. Cu won’t interrupt us tonight. He’s with his new love.”

“Is that why you are so sad? Has Cuchulainn chosen poorly?”

“He’s chosen Brenna.”

“The little Healer? I thought she was your friend.”

“She is,” Elphame said hastily. “I was unbelievably happy when they declared their love for each other today. But I’ve had a Feeling—a kind of premonition—of great sadness to come.” She shivered again uncontrollably.

“Let’s return you to your castle. You need the strength of its walls.”

“I also need you, Lochlan. I need you badly tonight.”

He held her tightly against him. “I am here for you, my heart.”