Faerie Fate (6 page)

“Well?” the big
soldier demanded.

Siobhan turned sad
eyes toward her husband. “They have much to conquer in this life, but if they
persevere, they will have great rewards.”

Niall walked the two
of them over to the bench by the fireplace and settled them onto it. He oftimes
got lost in his wife’s cryptic pronouncements and this was definitely one of
those times.

Siobhan absently
patted the old Druid’s hand. The smile she offered him did nothing to hide her
fatigue. “She is no witch, Niall, despite what you think. Nor is this some illness
or disease that will infect us all.”

Niall opened his
mouth to protest, worried that the Druid had also succumbed to her pain.

“Your wife speaks
true, Niall,” Odhran confirmed quickly. After a pause to catch his breath, he
added. “The girl is changing into a woman.”

“Nay,” the big man
spat. “I’ve never seen a cailín suffer that change as this one does.”

Odhran shook his
head, thinking for a moment. “Mayhap, my big friend,
’
tis the other way
around. The woman is changing into a girl.”

Niall stood there, a
look of total confusion splashed across his face.

Siobhan cut her eyes
to the Druid. The old man patted her hand now. “You feel it, too, daughter.
There are two within her. Until one or the other wins out, there is little
hope. And, if the wrong one does...”

“What gibberish is
this?” Niall demanded. “You said she was not a witch, but then how can there be
two?”

Siobhan stood up and
laid a restraining hand on his forearm. “She’s no witch, Niall. I will vouch
for that with my life.” She turned to face the Druid. “The pain comes from the
joining?”

The old man nodded,
suddenly worn out. “Aye. The one who is must become the one who was.”

“What of the
MacDermot?” Niall demanded, still confused by the Druid’s ramblings.

“What of him?”
Odhran blinked owlishly.

“Her pain is
fearsome and it becomes his. Can she survive it? Can he?”

“She may not.”
Odhran sighed. “Mayhap, he as well.” At Niall’s sharp intake of breath, Odhran
hastened to add, “Nay, his life will not be forfeit. His heart? That is yet to
be seen.”

Later, after Odhran
had been fed and given a place to sleep, Niall sought out Siobhan. He’d checked
on Ciaran and Becca, confirming both still slept peacefully, wrapped in each
other’s arms. Niall stood in the doorway, watching the man he’d helped raise
from boy to clann chief. A look of peace gentled Ciaran’s face, the expression
was one Niall hadn’t seen since Ciaran’s childhood. Shutting the door, he’d bid
the guards good night.

Siobhan had taken a
room not far from Ciaran’s so she could tend to Becca as needed. She was
already in bed when he entered. She looked fetching with the coverlet pulled up
to her chin, and he suspected she had nothing on underneath. He started
dropping his clothes at the door. Siobhan, her lips curled in a cheeky grin,
urged him to hurry.

“
’
Tis been
too long, dear heart,” he growled. He kicked off his boots and his trews
quickly followed. He dove under the covers Siobhan held up and gathered her
into his arms. He found her full breasts, one with a rough hand, the other with
his mouth. He loved her long into the night. He loved her until they were both
exhausted and sleep claimed them.

Just before dawn,
Niall woke Siobhan and loved her all over again. When they were both satisfied,
he pulled her close.

“I am a man thick
with no wit, my love,” he admitted. “I dinnit get much that was said last night
by the Druid. Can yee straighten out my thinking?”

Siobhan kissed his
chest then laid her head on the spot. “Odhran thinks Becca’s soul has gotten
lost,” she explained. He made a sign to ward off evil but she stayed his hand.
“He thinks her soul came back to find Ciaran’s. When she was here the first
time, they missed each other, and so her soul went on to other lives. But there
was no living for her without him, so she’s come back. The two parts of her
must become one, and that coming together is the source of her pain.”

“Ciaran should just
grab the bull by horns,” he snorted.

“Oh?”

“Aye.” He looked
smug and superior, positive he had the answer. “He needs to tup her until she
has no idea who she is.” He grinned wickedly at her. “Just like I’m going to do
to you.”

Siobhan kissed him
deeply, thinking,
Nay, he needs to tup her until she
knows
exactly
who she is.

Chapter Four

When he awoke,
Ciaran fought the urge to rip the gown from Becca’s body and spend the morning
losing himself in her. From the moment he’d first seen her naked in his bed,
despite her battered and bruised body, he’d wanted her. He wanted to cup her
firm breasts in his hands while he kissed her long and deep. He wanted to explore
every inch of her body with his tongue, and bury himself so deep inside her
core, he wouldn’t know where he ended and she began.

Becca stirred
restlessly in her sleep and her right hand trailed down his belly to rest
lightly on his manhood. He sucked in his breath. By the gods, he wanted that,
too, wanted her mouth and hands touching every part of his body.

Ciaran was about to
throw caution to the wind when he heard the guard on the outer wall issue a
challenge. Moments later, several horses clattered into the courtyard. Trying
not to wake her, he reluctantly disentangled himself. Still dressed from the
night before, he took only a moment to readjust his erection to a more
comfortable position in his trews and run his fingers through the tangles of his
hair. He snagged his mantle from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around his
shoulders as he headed straight to the great hall.

Niall was already
there greeting the three riders who’d come in. The colors in their mantles
proclaimed they came from the O’Conor, King of Connaught. Two of the messengers
asked only for a quick drink and fresh mounts. They were away even as the third
began to recite his message.

Conchobhar O’Conor,
King of Connaught, had issued an
ard fheis
. Each clann chieftain in the
O’Conor
tuatha
was to answer with the minimum of a detachment of men and
provisions for both men and horses to last for at least three months. The
messengers had been riding night and day to issue the edict to all those owing
fealty to the O’Conor
tuatha
. The MacDermots had long held military
responsibilities within the
tuatha
and were probably among the first to
be notified.

“What comes?” Ciaran
asked when the courier paused for a breath.

“Clann O’Brien raids
from the south,
Taoiseac
MacDermot,” he stated coldly. “The O’Conor
thinks to drive them from Connaught before midsummer. He is calling the clanns
together. Will you attend?”

Niall watched his
liege carefully. He was the only one who’d noticed Ciaran’s glance up the
stairs during the recitation of the
ard fheis.
This might be a solution
to Ciaran’s current dilemma. Odhran and Siobhan had talked of a joining of the
two selves within Becca. If Ciaran were away, perhaps things would come easier
for the cailín. He also hoped it would be easier on Ciaran with half the
country between them. He had little doubt Ciaran would do his duty. Ciaran’s
words proved him right.

“Aye, we’ll be
coming and about time, too. I bring a company of horse and a company of
hobelars. Have you time to rest?”

The messenger shook
his head. “Nay,
Taoiseac
MacDermot, though I thank you for your offer of
host. I ride for Ros Comain, but I ask a boon. Spare me a fresh mount?”

“Granted,” Ciaran
replied, handing the man a cup. “Drink now and have a bite while we bring yee a
horse.”

Ever efficient,
Niall strode toward the door, shouting orders even as a maid hurried forward
with a plate of roasted meat and half a loaf of fresh bread. The man wolfed it
down where he stood.

Upstairs, Siobhan
heard all the commotion and suspected what had transpired. She finished
dressing and went to check on Becca. She tapped softly on the door. When there
was no response, she eased it open. The cailín still slept, but Siobhan was
pleased with the girl’s appearance this morning. Her face had some real color
in it instead of the pallor and bruising of days past. The only shadows under
her eyes were cast by her long lashes.

****

“He has not bound
her,” the female sighed.

“Nor has the
covenant been consummated,” said the male.

“He cannot go ’til
it is done. He cannot tempt fate this time.”

“What about me?”

With the third
voice, the others grew silent.

“I know you hear me.
Why won’t you answer?”

Still silence.

“Please? Just tell
me what’s going on. Is this a dream?”

One finally broke
the silence with a sharply indrawn breath.

“Do not,” the female
chided.

“I must lest all go
for naught,” the male argued. “Child of the Mortals, ’tis no dream we weave.
You have journeyed long through
Imrama Anam
. You have been returned to
An Domhan
to fulfill
your destiny.”

“My...destiny? Oh, these
are very good drugs.” Becca choked on a giggle.

“Child, the veil
closes. Our time here is short. You must listen. You must be who you have
become, else the you who was will be no more.” The man was insistent.

“Oh, that’s as clear
as mud. What are you talking about?”

“Seek within your
heart, Child,” the woman murmured. “Seek with your heart to find what is
missing.”

“Your fate is tied
to his, Child, and his to ours. Do not fail us.”

****

Becca woke up
feeling light-headed and with a mouth tasting like cotton. Her stomach growled
loudly reminding her of how terribly hungry and thirsty she was, as if she’d
gone days without food.

“Other than a bit o’
broth and my potions, there’s no telling how long it’s been, cailín,” Siobhan
chirped at her.

She stared at the
older woman. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Read my mind.”

Siobhan smiled. “No
mind reading, cailín. I heard your wee tummy complaining all the way over
here.” She watched for a brief moment. “What troubles you, Becca?”

She wasn’t sure she
wanted to discuss it just yet, but she had too many questions without answers.
This woman was kind to her and seemed to take many things in stride. Besides,
she lived in this century, and Becca didn’t. She really needed some answers.
“Siobhan, what is
Imrama Anam
?”

The older woman took
a step backward. “Why do you ask, cailín?”

She shrugged. “I
heard it mentioned somewhere, and I don’t know what it means,” she dissembled.

“Methinks you would
do well to seek counsel with Odhran,” Siobhan said softly, watching through
narrowed eyes. “You can trust me, Becca,” she finally added.

Becca opened her
mouth to speak, but stopped. If this wasn’t a dream, and she
was
back in
medieval times, they’d probably burn her for a witch if she spoke of her life
in the twenty-first century, not to mention those mysterious voices echoing in
her head.

Siobhan remained
quiet, giving her ample opportunity to speak, then smoothed over the silence
when it stretched too long. “Would you like a bath, cailín? At the very least,
you need a change of clothes. That dress wasn’t meant for sleeping.”

Becca blushed. “I
would love a bath,” she said, wondering that such would be possible. She was
woefully ignorant of this life. “But I really need to, um...” Her hands
fluttered in a vague gesture.

Siobhan grinned.
“Can you find your way?”

She nodded, her face
now flaming. Siobhan opened the door and she fled down the hall, gainfully
trying to ignore the guard hard on her heels. She made it to the garderobe and
took care of business. The guard waited for her, but she steadfastly refused to
look at him as she skittered back to her room. Stepping through the door, she
was suddenly reminded it wasn’t just
her
room.

That devastatingly
handsome man who was so much a part of this fantasy banged about the room
pulling out clothes. He grabbed a few other items and stuffed everything into a
well-worn leather satchel.

She hesitated just
inside the door, afraid to disturb him. The man’s frenzied activity slowed.

He stilled and
turned. His gaze devoured her. She vaguely wished she’d had that bath and had
on fresh clothes, but the burning desire in his eyes brushed the thought away.
She could be wearing rags and it wouldn’t matter a bit to him.

“Ah, cailín,” he
sighed, looking her up and down. “Would that I could stay and explore what is
to be between us.” His voice held so much promise.

She remained very
still, her heart in her throat.

He took a deep
breath and was all business again. “The O’Conor, my king, has sent out the
ard
fheis.
Clann O’Brien invades Connaught. We leave for Tuam and the south as
soon as we can provision.”

She had no idea what
he was talking about. She’d never heard of Connaught or Tuam, or any king named
O’Conor.

Something on her
face must have revealed her bewilderment. He strode across the room and took
her suddenly cold hand in his big paw. “The O’Brien clann is raiding again,” he
told her. “All
tuatha
loyal to Conchobhar O’Conor rally with an army to
defeat them.”

A shiver skittered
down her spine. Ciaran was leaving. Echoes whispered in her mind.
He cannot
go ’til it is done. He cannot tempt fate this time.

“What troubles you,
cailín?” He released her hand and raised his arms as if to hug her.

Becca stepped into
the warmth of his embrace. Grateful for this gesture, his open arms encircled
her. She was tall, the top of her head almost as high as his chin. He rubbed it
across the silkiness of her hair.

“I do not understand
what is happening, Ciaran,” she whispered. “I do not know who I am, or who you
are, but I fear for us both if you go away.”

His lips brushed
across her forehead as his heart leapt for joy. Witch she might be, but she had
wrapped around his heart just as her arms now wrapped around his body. He could
not let her go. “Three months, cailín, and the invaders will be defeated. I’ll
be back before
Albun Heruin
.”

Again, when her face
betrayed her confusion, he added, “The summer solstice.”

Becca opened her
mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, she simply turned her
face to his, tears glistening in her eyes.

He bent his head and
tasted her lips, his mouth gentle and hesitant, as if this was the first time
he’d ever kissed a woman. His lips were strong but soft, and his tongue flicked
across her teeth, inviting her to open her mouth to him. He pressed his whole,
hard length against her soft yielding one, then he shuddered, his arms
tightening around her. She felt him harden, and she wanted to grind her hips
against him. Instead, she kissed him back, her tongue seeking his. Her arms
tightened around his back.

“Nay, cailín,” his
mouth murmured into hers. “I must go, though my heart aches to stay with you.
Honor demands I answer the summons.” He tried to put distance between their
bodies, but his was as reluctant to part as hers.

She closed her eyes,
unwilling to see the yearning in his. Her body felt heavy, achy, and in need of
his touch, yet her heart and her mind shied away from what she wanted.

“The binding,” the
female voice demanded in her head.

“The covenant,” the
male insisted.

“Oh, shut up,” she
shouted.

Ciaran released her
so quickly she almost fell. She’d spoken out loud, and he assumed she was
talking to him. She caught the flash of hurt in his eyes as he turned away from
her and resumed his packing. “Crap,” she murmured under her breath. “Why do I
keep doing this?” She waited a moment to see if her ghosts, as she now thought
of them, would answer her. When they didn’t, she stepped closer to him.

She reached out to
touch his broad back, her fingers trembling as their tips brushed his shirt and
found the man beneath the linen. It was like touching a wall but hard and
smooth with muscle rather than stone. “Ciaran?” she whispered. He flinched away
from her voice and her touch. “I’m sorry,” she added. He ignored her. “I’ll
leave you to pack.” She turned to leave. As she reached the door, she felt the
stirring of those voices in her head.

“Why can’t you just
leave me alone?” she demanded.

“As you wish,
mistress,” Ciaran’s cold voice answered.

Becca whirled to
face him, realizing she’d spoken out loud again. She’d lived alone for so long
it was second nature for her to talk out loud to herself. Some days, her voice
had been the only live voice she heard. As crazy as it might seem, the
conversations she’d held with herself had been comforting.

Ciaran glared at
her, anger etched in every line of his face. She wanted nothing more than to
run to him and kiss his hurt and anger away, but a part of her rebelled,
chafing under her overwhelming, and inexplicable, need for him. Becca screwed
her eyes shut and took a deep breath, letting it out with a slow huff. “I
didn’t mean you, Ciaran.” She kept her voice carefully neutral.