Heart of the Druid Laird (21 page)

Is this what his father suffered when he lost his wife? He’d blamed Dermot for her death and couldn’t tolerate the sight of his newborn son because of it. Now Dermot understood.

Maybe he deserved this. Áine had spoken the truth. He’d played a reprehensible game with Sidney. He’d led her to believe they had a future, knowing he had no future to give her. In his weakness, he’d succumbed to his own selfish desires without a thought for her welfare.

The three of them followed the path the mercenaries had taken into the keep and entered through the kitchen. A battle raged in the great hall. Thomas, Niall and several others belonging to the special cadre meant to guard Mairéad made quick work of slaying their enemies. Thomas fought like a demon possessed, hacking his enemies to bits. Dermot didn’t have to see Iselda’s dismembered body to remember why.

Looking beyond the fight, Dermot expected to see Mairéad bleeding on the cold ground. Instead, Sidney lay in her place. “No! I will no’ have it. It should be—” Dermot fell into his role, into the illusory form of himself standing over her. Sidney’s image disappeared, and Mairéad lay bleeding before him. Kneeling by her side, he cut her gown, using the fabric to staunch the flow of blood. With all his might he summoned Áine. “Be easy, lass. I’ve called for help. Your mother will be here shortly. She’ll turn this round.”

She shook her head. “Nay, Diarmad. I am dying. Even now my limbs grow cold and my vision darkens. This life is over.” Sidney grasped his hand, her hold weak. “Take our child from my womb. Give her the chance to live.”

“Hush. I will do no such thing.”

“Please,” she whispered. “I beg you…for our child.”

Tears trickled from her eyes. She looked up at him with desperate hope and trust. Helpless rage coursed through him. He lifted her into his arms. “Nay, Áine will come. You’ll see. She’ll heal you and our babe. All will be well.” Rocking her back and forth, he sent another plea to his mother-in-law.
Come now!
Sending for her through the astral plane wasn’t working. Dermot resorted to shouting. “Áine! Come to me. Áine!” he called, over and over until his throat was raw.

“It is too late. She will not come.” Mairéad’s voice was barely audible now. “Take the child. Do this…for me.”

“Do no’ ask it of me. I willna put my blade to you. I canna,” Dermot cried. Mairéad went limp in his arms, her eyes dull and lifeless. Dermot shouted to the heavens, crying out in despair. This was too sodding real. Every emotion from that horrific day returned
en force,
along with the fresh anguish of losing Sidney.

Thomas and Niall tried to separate him from Mairéad’s lifeless form. He clung even harder. “Leave off,” he shouted. “Her mother will come. It is
no’
too late. It canna be. I will no’ lose her.”

“She’s already gone.” Niall tried to pry her from his arms. “We must leave. The keep is burning down around us. There is nothing more you can do for her. We have wounded to carry.”

Dazed, Dermot shook his head. “Then I must do as she asked.” He laid his wife down gently, and pulled the dagger from his belt. A burning rafter crashed to the ground beside them. Thick smoke stung Dermot’s eyes and burned his lungs. Heedless of his surroundings, Dermot placed the blade on Mairéad’s belly, gritted his teeth and cut the fabric of her gown to expose her distended belly. Another rafter fell. Heat scorched his skin and singed his hair. Dermot steeled himself for the task and pressed the blade against her flesh.

His men fell upon him. Wrenching him away, they dragged him back.

“Nay! Leave off. I must do as she asked. Our bairn…” Dermot railed and fought to free himself. His eyes met and locked with Thomas’s. Shared grief and understanding bonded them in a single purpose.
Vengeance.
He stopped fighting and fled the burning keep.

The hiss of snow melting from the fire filled the air. The battle sounds faded. In the early morning stillness Dermot understood what had escaped him his whole life. He
had
loved Mairéad. He simply hadn’t recognized the emotion until Sidney came into his life.

Grief left him raw and aching while regret stole the air from his lungs. His eyes stung. Why had he never told Mairéad how he felt? She wanted to hear the words more than anything. He’d withheld them, and now it was too late.

Had he feared love? Nay, worse than that, he feared the flaw within himself that rendered him unlovable. Hadn’t his own father and brothers abandoned him? If his father couldn’t love him, how could Mairéad?

His wife had not been the only one to hide her true self in their marriage. He’d done the same, never letting her see how much she meant to him or how much he already loved their unborn child. Kneeling in the mud before their burning keep, Dermot wept for his wasted life. Centuries of grief poured out of him in great racking sobs until there was nothing left inside him but a dull, hollow ache. A hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“It is finished, Druid.” Dagda Mór spoke in a hushed tone.

Dermot raised his head. Áine stood beside her father like a statue. If she felt anything, she hid it well. Sidney lay on the ground wrapped in furs and stared into the sky with a vacant expression. “Sidney.” Dermot whispered her name.
Forgive me.
She refused to look his way. He couldn’t blame her.

“Is the curse lifted?” Sidney directed her question to the clouds.

“Not yet,” Dagda Mór replied. “I will return you to the Druid’s castle. Two days hence, my daughter and I shall bring the antidote to the elixir of life. Once Dermot and his men partake, their immortality will end.”

“And their lives?” she whispered, turning her head to stare hard at Áine.

Strong emotion flickered over Áine’s face. He swore he glimpsed guilt and shame. The moment passed, and Dagda Mór answered Sidney’s question.

“Their lives will end.”

“Hey, how long are you planning to sleep?” Zoe shook Sidney by the shoulder.

“For the rest of my life,” she muttered and pulled the covers over her head. How could she face everything she was feeling? She couldn’t look at her best friend without the horrors done to Iselda that day replaying in her mind. With a head full of someone else’s memories, was it possible to go back to life as usual? “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Did you seriously think I would stay home while all this shit went down? What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough.” Zoe tugged the blankets away and sat on the bed. “You have to.”

She scowled. “No, I don’t.”

“Look, Áine and her father are coming here tomorrow with the antidote for immortality.” Zoe’s voice broke. “I can’t lose Thomas. Maybe there’s something we can do, maybe there isn’t, but we won’t know unless you tell me everything.”

“What have you and I done to deserve this eff-ing crapfest? Have I been a horrible person? Have you?” Tears pooled in her eyes. “You have no idea what we’ve already suffered, and there doesn’t seem to be any end to it.”

“Tell me.”

Sighing, Sidney sat up and gave her a brief accounting of everything that had happened. “I was myself and Mairéad at the same time. I still have all her memories from that life in my head. I recognized you as Iselda.” She reached for Zoe’s hands. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” Zoe squeezed back.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 3:00 p.m. You’ve been sleeping since you and Dermot returned.”

The image of Dermot kneeling in the mud and sobbing his eyes out came back to her. She needed to be alone to process what she’d witnessed. Despite what Dermot pretended, she knew he’d cared a great deal about Mairéad. Grief like that didn’t break a man like him down unless it sprang from strong emotion.

She lay back and covered her eyes with her hands. “I…I’m not ready to be around people yet. Would you mind if I took some time to myself? I need—”

“Sure, Sid. You’ve been through a lot. I’m here if you need me.” Zoe patted her arm and left, closing the door softly behind her.

All the events from the past few days closed in on her. Images of Áine passed out ran through her mind. Mairéad’s mother could’ve prevented the tragedy. Did Dagda Mór know why his daughter failed to save his granddaughter? What difference did it make? Áine had every right to engage in drunken orgies if that’s what made her happy. It didn’t make her any more responsible for the outcome, or any less. Still, it didn’t give her the right to place all the blame on Dermot, nor did it justify the wrath she’d directed at him and his men.

Between the two of them, he’d suffered the most. Once you’re dead, the pain is over. To survive so much horror, to carry it with you every day of your life without any end in sight—how Dermot stood such a thing was unfathomable. No wonder he wanted to die. She couldn’t take his memories away, and she couldn’t heal the scars marring his heart. As much as she loved him, she had to let him go. Dermot deserved to be at peace.

“You must hate me.”

Sidney turned with a start. Dermot stood in the doorway with a tray in his hands. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled up, and his hair hung loose and wavy to his shoulders. She drank in the sight of him.

“I don’t hate you.” She pulled her shabby bathrobe tighter over her flannel pants and T-shirt. Damn, why hadn’t she packed the silk boxers and camisole pajamas? She’d stayed in bed most of the day, going over what had happened, trying to get it all straight in her head. She tucked her hair behind her ears and straightened her posture. Seeing him stirred up all her disappointed hopes of a future with him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms—or rant and rail all over his ass. “I am pissed at you, though.”

“I brought a peace offering.” He lifted the tray. “Ham sandwiches and coffee with copious amounts of cream, just the way you like it.” He walked into the room and placed the tray on the small table by the fireplace.

Her eyes filled with tears. She fought them back. “You think a ham sandwich and coffee are going to buy you forgiveness?”

“I was hoping.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “This is the best I could do. We gave the staff a holiday so none would be here when—”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Dermot?” She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d die in the end?”

“I meant to.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t.” She glared at him. “I’ll just add that to the list of things you neglected to tell me.”

“This is my last full day on earth. There will be nothing but the truth between us. I swear to answer anything you ask.”

“Let’s start with why you failed to mention you’d die once the curse ended.” Sidney crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“Come. Sit here by the fire. Seeing you on that bed is torture. I’m no’ dead yet, lass.” He stirred the dying embers and added a couple of logs. “You haven’t eaten all day. Have a sandwich.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Dermot filled two cups. “Have coffee with me, then.”

Sidney moved to the table.

“I meant to lay it all out for you from the first.” Dermot placed the steaming mug in front of her and added cream. “Remember the night we went to dinner? I started to tell you. You wouldn’t listen, and you left before giving me the chance.” Dermot raked a hand through his hair. “At your family’s summer home, I was going to tell you the moment I arrived, but you…distracted me.”

“Is that what we’re calling what happened, a
distraction?
” Their eyes met, and a current of desire snaked its way down to her core. Looking away, Sidney tried to get control of herself. This was no time for lust.

“The next morning I began again, and we quarreled. You took off into the blizzard. When we got back—” he shrugged, “—you weren’t talking to me. Again.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I guess I haven’t made it easy.”

Leaning forward, Dermot put his elbows on the table. “I do no’ blame you. I barged into your life and turned it upside down with my outlandish tales of curses and immortality. The day we went sightseeing, you knew I meant to discuss it. When I brought it up, do you remember what you said?”

Nodding, she murmured, “I said I wasn’t in the mood to talk about curses.”

“We’ve only known each other a few weeks, lass. We ran out of time before I could say what I should’ve said from the start. I let you lead me away from my purpose for purely selfish reasons.” He leveled his gunmetal gaze at her. “I wanted you.”

A log split and crackled in the fireplace, sending sparks flying. Sidney tried to breathe. Longing and regret warred within her. He was the man she’d waited for her whole life, and she couldn’t have him. “You aren’t selfish. Nothing about your life speaks of selfishness.” She stared into her coffee. “Another question?”

“Ask.”

“If you’d had choices, what would you have done with your life?” She held her breath. Would he have chosen a life with Mairéad? That heartache remained unhealed deep in her soul.

He rubbed his face with his hands. “I would no’ have been a priest, that much is certain. I knew how to write and tally sums. I suppose I could’ve been a scribe.”

“You wouldn’t have chosen to be laird of your clan?”

“Nay. It is no’ in my nature to lead. I’m too private. I would have preferred a simple life, a wife, a house full of children and a living that gave me satisfaction.”

Had Mairéad’s love been selfish after all? “Oh, Dermot.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I am so sorry. Everything that happened to you is my fault…I mean Mairéad’s. If she hadn’t insisted you two marry, you could’ve chosen a wife for yourself and had the family you wanted. The attack on your clan wouldn’t have happened. You never would’ve been cursed.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.

Dermot was out of his chair and lifting her from her place before she could object. He sat back down with her in his lap. “Hush, love. Do no’ cry for me. None of what happened is your fault, or Mairéad’s. I was born under an unlucky star, is all.”

Laying her head on his shoulder, she put her hand over his heart and soaked up his scent to store in her memory forever. The flannel of his shirt beneath her cheek soothed her, while the warmth and hardness of his chest made her feel safe and protected. She could stay in his arms forever. Damn. He wasn’t the only one born under an unlucky star.

“You never chose anything about your life, did you?” She wiped her eyes. “It’s like it didn’t belong to you, but you’re the one who had to live it. You told me your father gave you away. Why would he do such a thing? It can’t really be because he had no use for you.”

“He loved my mother. She died giving me birth. I believe he went out of his mind with grief and blamed me for his loss. Once the deed was done, even if he regretted his actions, he could no’ have taken me back from the Druids. It would’ve been a grave insult to the priests, and to the gods they served.”

“That’s so unfair.”

Dermot’s body tensed. “I never knew my father or my brothers. I knew only the lack of their love.” His arms tightened around her. “I know now how much the absence of family shaped my life and made me who I am.”

“I have an idea.” Sidney stroked his stubbled cheek. She wanted to hold him until all the empty places in his heart were filled. “Let’s lay the blame for everything that happened at your father’s feet. He deserves it.” Dermot chuckled, and the rumble deep in his chest vibrated through her.

“Aye, if it pleases you.”

“It does.”

“While we’re on the subject of fathers, I wish I’d known yours.”

Sidney frowned. “Why?”

“I’d have knocked some sense into him, told him how proud he should be of his brilliant daughter. You’re a strong woman, quick-witted—with a genius for marketing. Your shop is a testament to your enormous creative talent.”

“Do you mean it?” she whispered.

“Are you going to cry again?”

“Probably. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She sniffed, and played with the buttons on his shirt. “I guess we both have unresolved daddy issues. At least I knew mine cared about me, even if we didn’t always agree. With a father and a childhood like yours, it’s no wonder you don’t believe in love.”

I do now.
Dermot wanted to shout the words bound up tight inside him. Sidney had taught him what it meant to love. Because of her, he’d come to grips with how much he’d cared about Mairéad and his unborn child. The grief he’d buried deep inside for her and their wee daughter had finally been expressed, and a burden had been lifted from his soul.

Should he tell her how much he loved her? Nay, knowing would only add to her sorrow. Tomorrow he and his men would meet their mortal end. Instead of saying the words he ached to say, he smoothed his hand down her back and laid his cheek against the silk of her hair. “Any more questions?”

“Give me a minute. I’m sure I’ll come up with something.” Sidney leaned her head back to smile at him. “I’m glad we’re doing this. It’s cathartic. This is the first real conversation we’ve had.” She settled back against him. “Thanks for coming after me in that awful gray place.”

He gave her a squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to suffer through that.”

“Did you come for me only because of the curse, or…”

Sidney’s voice grew small. Her vulnerability had him wanting to protect her forever. “To hell with the curse, lass. I would’ve torn the place apart, and Áine too if I could have. I wanted to get you free for your sake, not mine.”

“I’ll never forget it. You have no idea how terrified I was.” She shuddered in his arms. “Our little vacation with the fae was no picnic either.”

“I’m no’ happy about the risk you took when you provoked Dagda Mór. What you did took courage, but it was foolish.”

Sidney shrugged. “I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Though the vessel is altered, the spirit is the same,” she mimicked. “Although I’m not sure he means it when he says I’m still his granddaughter.”

“I’m beholden to you. Do you wish to talk about—”

“No. It was awful.” She sat up in his lap. “I should be really pissed about that, too. Why didn’t you tell me I’d have to relive the whole thing?”

“I swear to you, I did no’ know.” Relieved, Dermot shifted her on his lap, drawing her closer to his heart. He’d failed to honor Mairéad’s dying request and would die with the regret. Even so, he didn’t want to ruin what little time they had left by forcing the issue.

He had no right to ask her for anything, yet he couldn’t stop himself. “Would you grant the wish of a dying man?”

“Oh, Dermot.” Turning her face into his neck, she started to cry. “Did you have to put it like that? Is death what you really want? Maybe there’s another way out of this.”

“Immortality is a bleak and empty existence. It’s against the laws of nature for humankind. My men have made their wishes clear, and it is I who must lead them in this. We’ve lived a half life for far too long. They will look to me for courage at the end. Though they desire a mortal death, facing it is no’ an easy task.”

“But if you
did
have a choice?”

“I’ve never had a choice,” he snapped. “I’m sorry, but speculating about possibilities that do no’ exist can only lead to heartache.”

“Thomas says he won’t take the antidote. What if—”

“Thomas has spent his entire life with his head up his…uh, in the clouds, lass. He’s more optimist than realist. As always, he’s failed to think things through. Should he remain standing before the king and Áine after the rest of us have fallen, what then?”

“I don’t know.” Sidney raised tearstained eyes to his. “What will they do to him?”

Dermot wiped the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He brought her head back down to his shoulder. “They’ll compel him to drink the antidote. He canna escape his fate, nor can I.”

“Poor Zoe.”

“Aye, poor Zoe.” Dermot refused to put Sidney through the same thing. Better to prepare her for the end rather than offer false hope. Her tears dampened his skin where she rested her cheek. Dermot didn’t have the words to make the hurt go away. His deficiencies turned him inside out. “About that last request…”

“Are you going to play the pity-sex card?”

“Nay.”
I wish to spend the rest of my life with you.
He longed to say the words. Even more, he wished for a lifetime to give her. “I want something far more intimate.”

“What’s more intimate than sex?”

A V formed between her brows. He caught it with a kiss. Her warm breath against his neck sent shivers down his spine. Talking quietly, sharing feelings with her he’d never shared before filled him with peace. Sidney had freed him. With her, he could truly be himself. She was a treasure more precious than anything, and she had no idea. “I want only to hold you in my arms until the end.”

“Damn you.” She threw her arms around his neck and wept.

Her grief tore at him. Gods, this love thing was painful—and joyful. She filled his soul. Even knowing they had so little time left together, holding her now was worth every ache he suffered. “I suppose pity sex is out of the question?” he whispered into her ear.

She laughed through her tears. Taking his face between her hands, she studied him as if she meant to memorize his features. Drawing his head down, she kissed him.

His insides melted. After everything he’d put her through, how could she be so giving? Women were a mystery. Nay, a miracle. Rising from the chair, he moved toward the bed without breaking the kiss and laid her down gently. “Are ye certain?”

Sidney nodded. “This isn’t pity sex. I need this. It’s…” Her eyes filled.

“I ken what you’re trying to say.” He stretched out beside her. “This is farewell.” Dermot caught her tears with his kisses. He wanted to lose himself inside her and forget for a few hours that his life would end tomorrow. Nuzzling the warm, tender spot beneath her ear, he drew her honeyed scent deep into his lungs. Sidney had been an unexpected gift in an otherwise desolate existence.

“Sidney,” he whispered into her ear, “I want you.” He ran his hands inside her robe and under her T-shirt, reveling in the velvet warmth of her skin. “I need you.”

Her breath hitched at his touch, igniting his blood. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his jeans. Unbuttoning the top few buttons, she brought it up over his head and tossed it on the floor. She drew his face down for a kiss, and he stopped her.

“I wish to unwrap you slowly,” he rasped, cradling her face between his hands. “You’ll never know what a gift you are to me,
mo anam.
I mean to show you. Let me.”

“This time belongs to you. Whatever you want, just tell me.”

He pulled her tight into his arms. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he hid the tears blurring his vision. Breathing hard, Dermot fought to gain control over the emotions churning inside him. Love, regret, bitterness. He lamented the things he would never have with her.

Sidney held Dermot as tight as she could. What must he be going through? The injustice of his circumstance shredded her heart to ribbons.
Oh, God. This is too hard.
How would she live through tomorrow? Should she tell him she loved him? No. Knowing how she felt would only add to the burden of guilt he already carried. She’d keep the words to herself and show him how much she loved him with her body.