Dragon Knight's Medallion (16 page)

Cathal clasped his hands together. “So I have heard. She is the daughter of Aidan Kerrigan?”

Stephen nodded affirmative.

“Why does this bother ye? Perchance, she is here to help ye on your quest.”

“
Quest
?” he roared, standing.

“Yes, Sir Stephen. A quest for
redemption
.”

Stephen’s laugh was almost sinister in its tone. “I will never seek redemption. I am no longer a Dragon Knight, nor do I wish to reclaim that rank.” He glanced back out toward the water. “Ye may as well call a Fenian Warrior to take her back to her own time this moment, instead of me carting her back to the abbey, and through the passage from which she came.”

“So all is lost?”

“All was lost the moment my sister was slain.”

“Then I will let your brother know ye have forsaken your heritage.”

Stephen stiffened, slowly turning around. “We have all forsaken our
heritage
,” he spat out.

Cathal shook his head, saying, “One of your brothers has fulfilled his quest and has redeemed his relic.”

“
Who
?”

“Duncan.”

“By all that’s holy!” roared Stephen. “He killed our sister, and he has been redeemed?” He pointed a finger at Cathal, adding, “Now ye have sealed my fate with this information, for if the
fae
saw fit to grant him redemption, then they are no better than the bishop and his followers.”

“Sir Stephen, ye must understand—”

Stephen halted his words with his hand. “Nae, no more! Ye can see to the daughter of the Fenian Warrior. I wash my hands of her.”

“Ye may wash your hands of Aileen. Nevertheless, ye cannot wash the fae blood from your body,” Cathal uttered harshly. “Ye are fighting a battle ye will surely lose.”

“Then so be it,” he stated. Grabbing Grian’s reins, Stephen headed off into the trees.

Chapter Twenty

“He drew her to the water and feasted upon her body, letting the light, and the sweet scent of flowers wash away the bitterness that had bound him in chains.”

“For the love of the Goddess, dinnae move,” scolded Cora, as she continued to weave flowers in Aileen’s long tresses.

“How many have you already woven into my hair? I believe there must be at least a hundred,” grumbled Aileen.

Cora snorted. “Nae, it is not too many. Only a few daisies, foxgloves, cowslip, lady’s smock, and bluebells.” She continued to pull, weave, and braid the flowers.

Betsy traipsed through with a bundle in her arms. “Oh, Lady Aileen, your hair is lovely.”

“Is that the gown?” asked Cora.

Betsy took her eyes from Aileen’s hair and gazed on what she was holding. “Aye, Betha thought this would bring out the color of her eyes.”

Aileen started to say something, but Cora placed a hand on her head to keep it steady. “Lay it next to the others.”

“I don’t need another gown, Cora. This one will do,” she stammered. She tried not to say anything when they first approached her with a bundle in their arms. Little did she realize they intended to primp and fuss over her in preparation for the celebration.

She eyed them narrowly, curious if Betha had anything to do with this. “I still say that this gown I’m wearing is just fine.”

“Whist! Not for the feast.” Cora snatched the flowers Aileen started to twist in her hands. “There now. ’Tis ready. Let us help ye with your gown.”

Aileen stood, wishing she had a mirror.

“Did ye bathe in the stream?”

She gave an unlady snort. “As best as I could. The water was freezing.”

Both women gazed at her in confusion, and she realized
they
might be used to bathing in frigid water, but she certainly was not.

Aileen’s mouth dropped open when she saw the gown. It was beyond what she had expected. The richly woven material was dyed a most glorious color of lavender. Gold and silver trimmed the edges of the sleeves and hem.

She let them help her put on the gown, then they belted it with a gold and silver chain, that left a portion of the chain angling down the center of the material.

But when she glanced down, she couldn’t help but gasp. “I’m practically spilling out of the neckline.” Aileen tried to tuck her breasts down into the gown. “It’s too low.”

“Nae.” Cora smacked her hands away. “It is beautiful.”

“Do you think so?”

“Aye,” responded both women.

“Fit for a faery queen,” Aileen murmured, gently fingering the chain.

“Now ye are dressed properly, my lady,” Cora wiped a tear from her eye.

“Thank you...thank you all.” Aileen twirled in her dress, causing an outburst of gaiety from the others.

Evening approached, and Aileen realized it was time. The others departed to change and anticipation seized her. It would be a celebration lasting until dawn. Afterwards, they would dance around the maypole with more feasting mixed with storytelling.

Aileen had tried in vain to get some rest in anticipation of the festival. But each time her mind would betray her, and Stephen would enter its depths. He told her he wasn’t going to the celebration and part of her was relieved. Nevertheless...there was another part, more primal,
that
wanted
him there.

She shouldn’t be sad. This was a time of joyous merriment.

“May I escort ye, Lady Aileen?” asked Cathal.

“I would be honored, Cathal. I have heard much of you today.”

He chuckled. “I hope it was all good.”

“Of course. You are the great Cathal. One of the elder druids and counsel, I hear, to the MacKays.”

He waved off her compliments. “I have been away from the MacKays...until recently.”

“Oh. Have you spoken to Stephen?” she asked, as they continued onward.

“Aye,” he said sadly.

They approached the unlit bonfire, and Cathal turned to face her. “We shall talk more after the feasting. I must gather with the other druids.”

“Yes, I would like that.”

She’d turned to leave when Cathal added, “Do not give up on Sir Stephen.”

Shocked by his remark, she replied hastily, “He doesn’t want my help, and I’m not here to help him.”

“Then ye are both lost within the darkness,” he stated, before taking his leave.

Aileen watched him walk away. “Sweet Mother Goddess. I’m not
lost
. Why...” She sputtered for lack of words. As far as she was concerned, tomorrow she would be on her way back to Arbroath Abbey.

And then she would be free of Stephen MacKay.

Her fury went from fiery to a soft simmer once she saw Betha, Donal, and Ian. Betha gave her a warm embrace, and handed her a goblet of wine.

“From Osgar,” she said smiling.

“I shall have to thank him later.” Aileen took a sip, letting its sweet taste linger on her tongue. She leaned in close to Betha. “What will happen next?”

“When all have gathered here, the druids will come forth chanting and give a blessing before they light the great fire. Afterwards, there will be feasting and dancing. Ye may choose to do whatever ye wish.” Betha gave a sideway glance to Donal, noticing the smirk on his face.

“What?” asked Aileen, sipping more of her wine.

Donal grabbed Betha’s hand with a twinkle in his eye. “Then there are some who will go off and make their own feasting.”

Betha actually giggled.

Aileen just stared at the two, somehow feeling like a third wheel. “Okay...I think I’ll stay here,” she muttered under her breath.

Within moments, all became still and hushed. Chanting started beyond the trees, and Aileen watched in awe as the druids arrived, singing praises to the God and Goddess. In their hands, they held the torches that would light the massive bonfire. Closer they came, their voices ringing through the air. She could only recognize some of the words, for they mostly spoke in Gaelic.

Then she saw Cathal stepping forward praising those who were here. Raising his torch high, he asked permission from the God and Goddess to bring forth the light. “We gather at this festive time, and welcome the return of our Lady. May she blossom with the fruit that was planted with the seed of the God. May the season be fruitful and rife.”

He slowly lowered his torch, setting fire to the wood. Sparks shot forth, and a resounding response echoed from the crowd.

“Hail the May Lady!” they shouted.

Aileen lifted her cup, making her own prayer as well. Someone passed her a portion of the wreath cake, and she devoured it, licking the stickiness from her fingers. She slowly backed away watching as the wood took a fiery life of its own, the blaze hot against her cheeks.

Some of the men and women were already dancing around the fire. She laughed when she spied Betsy twirling around.

Betsy waved her over. “Come dance with us.”

Aileen held up her hand in protest. “Oh, no...I’m fine just watching.” Turning blindly, she stumbled into Brian.

“May I have this dance, Lady Aileen?” he asked.

“I really shouldn’t, Brian.”

He looked so dejected she decided to throw caution to the wind. “You know what? I haven’t danced in ages. I think I will take that dance.”

“I would be honored,” he said proudly, holding out his hand.

Aileen swallowed the last of her wine, before putting the cup on a log. Taking his hand, she gathered her dress and joined in dancing with the others.

In no time at all, she found herself being swept away with the contagious merriment. Letting her shields slip just a bit, she relished the gaiety, twirling, and singing. When Brian would gather her close, however, she would spin out. On and on, around the inferno, laughter peeling out.

She felt young and carefree.

****

Stephen was gathering some food, which Betha had prepared for him understanding he would be away all night. She and Donal had pleaded with him to join in the feasting, but he waved them off rather rudely. He wanted no part of the festivities.

Almost colliding with a couple, he swore softly. Placing the food across Grian, he shifted hesitantly. It was then he spotted...
her
.

His hand froze on the leather sack. Sweet Mother! What was she doing? And dressed like that? She was a Goddess of the flame. He watched as she was swung up into the air by none other than Brian. Then he dared to slide her down against
him
.

Dark fury burst somewhere deep inside Stephen. “I’m going to kill him,” he rasped out.

The blood roared in his head, as he stormed across the open field, never hearing those who greeted him in passing—one hand held firm against his sword.

Stephen waited as any warrior would. Let the enemy show himself, he thought.

When their dancing brought them nearer to him, he darted in front blocking their path.

They never saw him coming.

Aileen’s back slammed into his chest, and his arms grasped her instantly in a firm grip. “Hey, ouch!” She tried to move, but he held her solid against his body.

Brian skidded to a halt. “Greetings, Sir Stephen.” He went to grab for Aileen’s hand, when Stephen let out a growl of warning.

“What is your problem? Did you just
growl
?” demanded Aileen. She tried to pry herself loose, but he continued to hold her firm.

“Mine,” he snarled.

Instantly, Brian’s face went white.

“Thank ye for the dance, Lady Aileen,” Brian clipped out. Giving Stephen a curt nod, he stomped away.

“Bloody. God. Damn. Hell,” Aileen snapped.

Stephen released her, only spinning her around to face him. Something primal within him tore loose. He tried to reason with himself that this was insanity, though his mind and body wouldn’t yield. His gaze dropped to those lips—
lips
he had fantasized about for weeks.

“
Aileen
,” he choked out before his mouth took hers in a plundering kiss. His lips moved over hers devouring their softness. The kiss became urgent, pleading in its need. His tongue sought hers, and the dance of desire seared their bodies. Raw passion took over his anger, and she opened fully, drawing him against her body. She took her hands and wrapped them around his head, threading her fingers in his locks and pulling him in deeper. Never in all of his life had he felt so right in someone’s arms.

When he broke from the kiss, his breathing was labored. Her eyes were dark with desire for him, and he shook with such need, it frightened him.

“By the hounds,” he uttered hoarsely. In one swift move, he picked her up. Carrying her to his horse, he ignored the hoots, and remarks coming from the crowd. Placing her on Grian, he swung around in back, taking off through a large group of oak trees with only one clear thought in mind.

Aileen settled back within his arms, as he uttered a groan. The tight knot in him begged for release.

“If ye keep wiggling like that, I’ll stop now and plunge my cock into ye, taking ye here on my horse.” His brogue so thick he could barely understand himself.

She gasped. “And I would let you.”

He nuzzled her ear. “Do not tempt me.”

They continued to ride in silence, the cool night air helped to simmer their blazing yearning for each other.

Stephen halted Grian near some pines, dismounted, and slid Aileen to the ground. He tugged at her hand and she followed him blindly, not caring where he was going.

He lifted her and ducked under some thick pines, emerging within a small grove. Placing her down in the center, he saw a look of awe over her face as she glanced around.

The full moon was making her ascent, its milky glow casting a magical scenery around them.

It was perfect for this night.

Stephen turned, hands clenched at his side. “This night is all I can give ye,” he uttered softly. “Will ye give yourself freely, wanting only this?”

She strolled over to face him. Taking his fists, she unclenched them and weaved her fingers through his. “And I shall ask nothing more from you after this night.” She looked deep into his eyes, adding, “I need you tonight, Stephen. Make love to me, here, now—
all
night
,” she pleaded.

“Och, Aileen, what have ye done to me?”

She lowered her head shaking it slowly. “I am just as confused as you are.”