The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance (43 page)

Peter the producer huffed up the hil towards her looking harried with his glasses on top of his head. “What the hel happened to you? I needed you to go with Gus to log his shots and answer questions people might have.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Kate had always worried that if she did something to displease Peter she might jeopardize her reputation for reliability. She had been so determined to make her career in television that she’d worked relentlessly for a pittance and hardly received a thank you from Barthurst Productions. Her mother had told her that the early starts and late nights were character building. Now she felt as if her employers had taken advantage of her.

Esras sauntered towards her, a sexy smile on his face as his eyes caressed her. His hair once again looked brown with silver highlights and his skin just lightly tanned. Every nerve in her body fizzed with awareness at the sight of him. He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist as he had while they were underwater, and pressed his mouth to her ear. “You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen.”

His words enfolded her heart like silky ribbons. Closing her eyes, she revel ed in the feel of his strong arms around her and the sun-warmed seaside smel of his skin. He feathered tiny kisses down her neck and nipped gently at her shoulder. She had only kissed him underwater, and she wanted to taste him in the air. She turned in his arms and looped hers around his neck.

His lips met hers and she lost herself in the heat of his mouth as their tongues tangled. Final y, she broke the kiss and he grinned at her. “I can’t wait until the feast ends so I can take you up to my bed.”

There was no doubt that he wanted her to stay, but she ached to know how he real y felt about her. He often cal ed her
my love,
but did he love her or was that simply a casual endearment?

Peter scowled at them. “It’s obvious what you’ve been up to for the last few hours when you should have been working. You’re as bad as Claudia.”

Kate blushed. She’d been so focused on Esras that she’d forgotten where she was. But she hadn’t done anything wrong. And she certainly did not sleep with half the men who were guests on the show like Claudia did – and Peter knew that. He was just being a jerk.

“I’m quitting, Peter.”

“What?” His mouth dropped open.

She gave a faint smile. “I’m sure you’l find another slave who wants to work in television.” As Peter stomped away to tel the director, Esras pul ed her back into his arms. “Don’t feel bad.

You had to give up your job if you’re going to stay with me,” he whispered.

She stared up into his face. “Why, Esras? Why should I stay?” Shock flashed in his eyes. “We’re destined to be together. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made love to you in the temple.”

A little shiver of relief passed through her but she couldn’t shake the niggling doubt in the back of her mind. “By destined do you just mean we suit each other real y wel , or is it something more?” A frown creased Esras’ forehead before he managed to hide it. An answering bolt of concern shot through Kate.

“I’d better tel you the ful story.” He glanced at the noisy crowd surrounding them. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

He led her around the side of the house to a lush private garden. They fol owed a narrow winding path between the riotous fragrant shrubs and came to a circular pool containing a beautiful fountain in the shape of a dolphin shooting water from its mouth. Esras pul ed her down beside him on a stone bench hidden in an alcove overlooking the pool.

“What did your grandmother tel you about the Rainbow People?” Kate stared at the cascading droplets pattering into the water, the sound soothing her jumpy nerves. “Fairy stories real y.” She shrugged. “The last time she spoke to me about the kingdom beneath the sea was when I was five. Then my mother banned the stories. She virtual y banned me from seeing Grandma as wel .”

Esras pul ed her hand on to his thigh and ran a finger lightly across her palm, tracing the lines.

“The woman you knew as your grandmother was older than you think. She was real y your great-great-great-grandmother.”

Kate’s breath hissed in.

“I knew her as Aine. She was once our queen.”

“Grandma?”

“In 1865 she fel in love with a human and had to fol ow her heart to England. Before she left, she read the future in Lir’s whirlpool and foretold that one of her female descendants was my destined bride. She made me king so that when you came to me you could take your rightful place as queen.”

The blood rushed out of Kate’s head, making her ears hum.
How old did that make him?
She tried to do the maths in her head, but her brain refused to work. She pul ed her hand from his grasp and jumped to her feet.

“Kate, my love.”

“Just give me a moment.” She moved away from him and ended up by the pool. She stared at the bobbing pink water lilies, trying to calm her swirling thoughts so she could make sense of what he’d said. The memory of his mind-shattering kisses and the feel of his sculpted muscular body made it impossible to believe he wasn’t young. She glanced over her shoulder at him to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind. “You don’t look more than thirty.” Esras grinned wryly. “I’l be 219 on 11 August. People of Lir live for centuries. That means you wil as wel .”

Kate turned on unsteady legs and col apsed on to the edge of the pool.
Centuries?
“What happened to Grandma’s other female descendants? Are they here?” Esras rose and came towards her. “You’re the first of Aine’s female line to take after her. The others took after her human husband.”

Kate’s breath stil ed in her lungs as the truth hit her. “Mum?”

“She isn’t one of us,” he said softly.

Kate rocked back.
Not one of us.
That explained so much that had happened over the years: the way Mum had cut her off from Grandma, her antipathy to Ireland, her fear of the sea. She must have been frightened of losing Kate and maybe a little resentful that the gene, or whatever it was that defined the Rainbow People, had passed her by.

Esras went down on his knees before her and reached for her hands. When he touched her she quivered inside, half of her wanting to fal into his arms, the other half stil struggling to come to terms with his revelation that she would live for hundreds of years.

“I’ve waited a long time for you. If your mother hadn’t hidden you from me, I’d have claimed you when you were eighteen.” Esras leaned closer, resting his cheek against hers. His lips brushed her ear. “I love you, Kate.”

Pleasure blossomed in her chest. His fingers stroked the inside of her wrists and trailed up her forearms to find the sensitive skin inside her elbows. A tingle of need raced across her skin.

“Do you think you’l grow to love me?” he asked.

Whether her relationship with Esras was destined or not, she could no more resist him than she could hold back the tide. “I do love you.” She pressed her lips against his neck.

He gave a little sigh as his arms encircled her, pul ing her on to his lap. His lips found her mouth, his kisses gentle at first, but soon becoming more demanding. After long minutes, he pul ed back and whispered, “Together we’l search for our lost people. The People of Lir wil become strong again now I have you.”

“Can we talk about that later?” Kate pul ed his face down again and kissed him. When he sucked in a breath, she smiled. “Do you think anyone wil miss us if we don’t go back to the feast?”
Compeer

Roberta Gellis

Cruachan, Connacht, Ancient Ireland – before 800 BC

Medb was not happy. When her father, Eochaid Fiedleach, Ard Rí of al Eriu, asked her if she was wil ing to go in marriage to Conchobar of Ulster, she had considered and then agreed. She was young, no more than fourteen summers having passed since her birth, but Eochaid Fiedleach knew better than to give orders to Medb. Nonetheless she was a dutiful daughter who loved her father; she knew Eochaid Fiedleach had been the cause of loss to Conchobar and that providing a wife to Conchobar was part of the repayment of that loss.

As further repayment of the debt, Eochaid had also given Ulster to Conchobar to rule; thus the Ard Rí retained power over Conchobar. And as daughter of the Ard Rí, Medb was her husband’s equal in status; when married she would be Banríon of Ulster.

But the union began to go sour from the very beginning. Medb and her escort had ridden into the dark to arrive the sooner in Ulster. They came into the Great Hal through the easternmost of the seven doors after the eating but while the men were stil drinking. Silence grew as Medb walked down the aisle from the door, past the sleeping couches and past the drinking benches, to the high seat.

Medb welcomed the growing silence. She was aware of her red hair and white skin, of her eyes, green as the finest emeralds, of the muscles that rippled in her bare arms. She always intended to be fit to rule. She was wel trained with sword and knife, and as wel trained to run and fight as to law and logic. She walked tal as a man and proud; she expected to be admired . . . and she was not thril ed with Conchobar’s greeting.

The Rí of Ulster looked her up and down and said, “Scrawny. One would think Eochaid would have sent something riper for a wife.”

Before Conchobar spoke, Medb had started to bend her head in proper greeting to a husband richer than herself, but she jerked upright at his words and replied, loud and clear, “I am the eldest of the Ard Rí’s daughters, and we wil see how I fil out the role al otted to me.” Conchobar only laughed but added, “The flash in those eyes holds promise, though.” Medb thought him a fool to laugh at her warning, but she held her tongue. Her goods were not the equal of his, so he ruled the household. And he was many years her senior. If he thought her a child, he might be careless until he knew her better. She might have spoken again, but a movement among the men seated on the drinking benches caught her eye.

The cause of the disturbance could have been cal ed scrawny too; he had the unfinished look of a boy growing into a man, but none of the men chal enged him. Medb saw the bones held great promise, and the skin was dark and smooth. His hair was black, which stood out among the lighter browns and reds and golds in the room; his eyes, from where she stood, also looked black. And the eyes were fixed on her, not with curiosity or amusement like most of the others of Conchobar’s liegemen. The expression in them . . . was hunger.

Not yet, Medb thought, and was surprised. She had to swal ow a laugh. To look at another man before her husband’s seed was set in her bel y and acknowledged was the ultimate in stupidity.

Medb was never stupid. Nonetheless, she was just a trifle regretful. Something about the young man who stared at her with such avidity attracted her interest.

She turned away to the women who had come to escort her to her quarters, unwil ing to meet the gaze of her young admirer but wondering how long it would be before it was safe to speak to him. To her surprise Conchobar came down from the high seat to walk with her. He had not spoken to her again, but several of his men had come from their benches to speak to him.

Perhaps they had reminded him that the girl he had offended was the Ard Rí’s eldest daughter.

Likely because of the warning of his men, Conchobar decided not to wait for Medb to ripen further, as he had promised her father. He broached her that very night.

That also did not please Medb – not the broaching; despite the pain, which she discounted, she enjoyed the broaching thoroughly. Seeing Conchobar reduced to a gasping, shuddering jel y taught her a valuable lesson. She saw what a woman could do to a man. She guessed at once how the act of love could be heightened to reduce a man and bind him. What angered Medb was that Conchobar had broken his promise to her father. In her eyes by breaking a promise Conchobar had smirched his honour.

Over the fol owing weeks, she had no complaint about his diligence in his marital duties, although she suspected he stil did not find her to his taste. “Rack of bones,” Medb heard once under his breath. She held the memory tight. And across the width of the hal on many nights her gaze met that of the black-eyed youth, who licked his lips as if he would eat her with good appetite.

Medb could have taken a bite or two of him herself, but she had not even enquired as to the dark boy’s name. Her wil was far stronger than her lust. Fortunately she did not have long to wait.

Within the second moon of the bedding, Medb got with child. She found that a source of satisfaction when she told her husband two moons later, and Conchobar was very pleased. He announced it to the whole household when they gathered for dinner . . . and took a new woman to his bed when the torches failed that very night.

Fool, Medb thought, as she had thought more than once before, but she made no protest even when the women of the dun cast pitying glances at her. She sat in her high seat beside her husband when he gave justice to his people and listened, and at each meal she ate and drank and spoke to him with good humour. Until one day when she had been watching the dark-eyed lad break a horse and came a little late to the table at dinner time. She found Conchobar’s current bedmate sitting beside him in her chair.

“There is a stool at the end of the table,” Conchobar said, and at the long tables set up in the hal for dinner some of the men looked up and chuckled at a wife being shown her place.

Medb smiled and kept on her way as if there were no one else at the table. Conchobar looked down into his ale horn, dismissing her. When she reached her chair, she seized the wel -rounded, ful -breasted woman by the back of her neck and the front of her gown, lifted her out of the chair, and dropped her off the dais down to the ground.