Unholy Blue (16 page)

With a nod and a trace of respect, Isobel took the knife from his hand. He clenched his jaw, but made no other movement, when she dragged the blade along the open cut.

“This will I keep, Bannerman Boru, to remind you of your oath if you should ever fail in it.” Holding it to one side to allow for the blood to dry, she motioned for him to rise with her free hand.

“I will not fail.” He rose.

Her veiled expression seemed to say:
We'll see
. “And this must be Cormac.” She looked past the Knight's shoulder.

Ignoring his throbbing palm, Bann glanced back. “Come along, son.” He gave an encouraging wink as the boy and puppy joined them.

For the first time, warmth colored the woman's face. “Hello, Cormac. Or Cor, I should say. Shay tells me that you're quite the warrior.”

An uncertain smile flickered across the boy's face. “I guess.”

“Is this your puppy?”

Cor's grin reappeared, this time brighter. “Yes, ma'am. This is Sam. I just got him last week.” He held out his hand to the woman at a throat-clearing from his father. “It's nice to meet you, Ms. Doyle.”

Unable to resist Cor's grin—
I should have sent him ahead to charm her
—she smiled back and shook the small hand, the collection of bangles on her wrist jingling softly. “You may call me Isobel.” Letting go, she studied him, then Bann. “By the Goddess, you're the spitting image of your father.”

Shay brushed around her mother and took Bann's uninjured hand in hers. “I know, right? Aren't I lucky—
two
good-looking guys.” She tugged him up on the porch. Cor was right behind them.

The clan began milling around, half of them trying to get to Bann to introduce themselves and the other half shoving back inside for food and drink.
More
drinks, from the number of empty beer bottles hanging from hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Cor had picked up Sam to keep him from being trampled.
Good lad
.

“Now that the formalities are complete,” Hugh's voice boomed over the noisy crowd, “we've a pig in the ground that's about ready to join us for a meal.”

With that, the clan leader pushed through the crowd, using both his bulk and his authority to clear a path. Ann and Isobel followed in his wake, speaking in low tones. A few snatches of their conversation floated back to Bann.

“See? What did I tell you?” Ann said. The other woman's response was lost in the hum of voices.

“Bannerman Boru.”

Bann turned at the voice. A sandy-haired man, about Shay's age, edged toward him. A thin scar bisected his right eyebrow, giving him a quizzical look. He held a dark-haired toddler on his hip while a redheaded boy near to Cor's age stood next to him. Shifting the little girl to his other hip in a practiced move Bann knew well, he held out his hand.

“I'm Sean. Shay's brother. Welcome to Crazyland. Also known as the Doyle clan,” he said with a broad, easy grin that had Bann smiling back.

“Thank you.” They clasped forearms. “And these are your children, I take it?”

“This is Meggie. She's almost two.” Sean pulled his daughter's thumb from her mouth. “And my son, Neill. Just turned nine a few months ago. My wife, Jenny, is inside, coordinating things.” He ruffled his son's hair, who was eyeing Cor and Sam. Cor was staring back. “Neill's been eager to meet Cor.”

“Cor, you and Neill take the pup to the back yard.” Bann gave the boy a nudge toward the house. “Stay out from underfoot.”

“'Kay.” The two boys started to leave.

“And take Meggie with you.” Before Sean could hand off the girl to a scowling Neill, Shay plucked her from her father's arms.

“Are you kidding? This one's coming with her auntie.” She buzzed Meggie's cheek, making her squeal with delight. “There's my sweet girl.”

“Thanks, Shay. Listen, I promised Rory to help him with something. I'll catch up with you two later.” With a grin and a nod, Sean disappeared inside the house behind the last of the crowd.

Bann watched Shay bounce Meggie, who was babbling in two-year-old speech about puppies or bubbles or
chalupas
or something. All the while Shay was nodding as if she understood. A sudden image of Shay holding a child of their own—
a little girl who looks like her mother—
flashed through his mind.

“Hello, Meggie,” he said in a gentle voice. He held out a finger to the child, who took it with great seriousness as she stared wide-eyed at the tall stranger. “Why, you've a strong grip, lass.”

“She's a tough cookie, aren't you, Meggie? Even when Neill gets rough when they're playing, she'll stand her ground.”

“A shield maiden like her aunt, eh?”

“And her mother, too. Jenny is this tiny little thing, but she's incredibly fast with a blade. Speaking of which.” Shay glanced at Bann's injured hand. “Let's go upstairs so I can bandage that cut.” Shay shifted Meggie to her shoulder and headed for the stairs.

Bann trailed behind, making puffin faces and blowing raspberries at the toddler all the way up the wide stairs. He was rewarded with a stream of giggles. Taking a left at the first door—the room where he and Shay had first made love—he followed her inside to the attached bathroom and sat down on the closed toilet lid.

“Here.” Shay plunked Meggie on his lap. “Hold her while I get the stuff.” She rummaged through the cabinet for the first-aid items she kept stocked there as a matter of practicality, as a great deal of clan activity took place in this spacious and well-protected abode.

Keeping his bloodied hand away from the child, he laughed when she grabbed hold of his torc and tried to pull it off. “You just let that be, missy. Time and enough for you to earn your own.”

After Shay cleaned and bandaged his hand, they headed downstairs. Meggie insisted that Bann bear her. Carrying her on his hip with her legs wrapped around his waist, he marveled at the delicateness of her small body.
Was Cor like this? So fragile? Or it is just little girls
?

Walking on the other side, Shay nudged him. “Well, you got the official Doyle seal of approval. Meggie is usually shy around strangers.”

He hoisted her higher. “I think I would enjoy having a daughter. A sweet, sunny girl.”

“Wait until that sweet, sunny girl turns fifteen.”

“I imagine she'll be no more difficult than a son at that age.” Bann sighed as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Ye gods. Can you imagine Cor at fifteen?”

“Oh, he's going to be a hellion of a teenager.” Shay sighed, too. “That's when he goes from being
our
son to
your
son, you know.”

“Fleeing that bog already, eh?”

“Just planning ahead.”

Reaching the kitchen, they paused in the doorway. The spacious room was packed almost shoulder to shoulder. The
clink
of glasses accompanied raucous voices and bursts of laughter, as well as a few snarled insults, and the shriek of a baby protesting an overdue nap. The sound of more voices wafted through the open back door, along with the aroma of smoke.

Isobel appeared out of the crowd. “I see you've met my granddaughter.” She held out her arms.

“She's a sweet colleen.” Bann handed the child to her grandmother.

The woman's eyes softened as she took the girl. “Spoiled, you are, Meggie Doyle. Have your feet even touched the ground since we arrived?”

“Probably not.” A young woman, about Shay's age, but shorter and more finely built, joined them as Isobel walked away with her precious burden. “Hi. I'm Jenny. Sean's wife.” Wisps of glossy nut-brown hair, cut short, framed her delicate face. “I can't tell you,” she said, taking Bann's un-bandaged hand in both of hers, “how happy I am for you and Shay. Ann and Hugh can't stop
singing your praise. And I met your son just now. Neill was beyond excited to have another boy his age here at these clan gatherings—”

“Now, there's a tall glass of
why, hell yes
.”

He glanced over Jenny's head at the new voice. An auburn-haired beauty sauntered toward him, working her curves with each step.

“Laney.” Next to him, he could almost feel Shay grinding her teeth at the sight of her cousin, whose family nickname, Fast Laney, had become apparent two minutes after Bann had first met her.

Curling a lock of her hair around one finger, she tilted her head. “I hear congratulations are in order.” She looked Shay up and down. “I guess that love potion worked after all.” When Shay started to sputter, Laney laughed and moved on, making sure to swing her hips.

“Bitch,” Shay muttered under her breath.

“Pfftt.” Jenny flicked her fingers at the retreating woman. “She's just jealous of you. She always has been, ever since she found out her cup size and IQ are the same.” Jenny gave them a nudge. “Okay, you guys go mingle—after all, this party is about you two. There's more food and drinks are in the back yard. I'll come find you shortly. And save me a seat for some girl time.” She took Shay's hand and studied the rings. “I want to hear all the details about his proposal.”

“You seem very close,” Bann said as they began edging their way through the crowd.

“We are. She's got a wicked sense of humor. Nice to have another girl in the family, since we Doyles tend to birth more boys than girls. Meggie is one of only a few girls in her generation.”

“Then we must do our best to produce daughters.”

“Might want to wait until we're alone, big guy.”

“Killjoy.”

“Exhibitionist.”

They continued, being stopped by every other person to accept congratulations, or for another Doyle to shake Bann's hand. After fifteen minutes, they finally made it to the back door.

More of the clan was milling about, most of them circled around a bonfire in the middle of the yard. Smoke swirled with each breath of wind. Near the fire, folding tables held an assortment of drinks and snacks. In the far corner of the spacious yard was a pig-sized patch of ground cleared of sod. Dirt was heaped in a flattened mound. Steam curled languidly from its top like a baby volcano getting ready for its first eruption. On the other end of the yard, half a dozen or so younger children played on the jungle gym. Bann spied his son and Neill engaged in a game of tug-of-war with Sam, using the leash as the rope.

Off to one side of the bonfire and away from the crowd, Bann saw Hugh handing a beer to another man with hair as black as a crow's wing. Lean of face and with a whipcord build, the man wore a beat-to-Mordor-and-back-again jacket. A familiar greenish-gray dust covered the front of it, as well as his faded jeans. A hunting knife hung from his belt. At a word and a tap on the elbow from the clan leader, the man turned.

“Whoa.” Shay peered at the man. “What's
he
doing here?”

“Who is that?”

“Gideon Lir. He rarely has anything to do with the rest of us Fey. He's kind of a recluse—lives for only the hunt. He's also one hell of a tracker. Ann told me once that years ago, Lir tracked down a pack of
Amandán
who had killed another Knight and his apprentice, all the way over the mountains and into Cripple Creek in the middle of a blizzard. He got every one of them, too.”

“That's Gideon Lir? The Black Hand?” Bann studied the man, who was eyeing him right back. “The one you called an ‘arrogant son of a bitch.'”

“In a totally respectful way. And, um, let's just keep
that
between us, shall we?”

“Bann. Shay.” Hugh waved them over. His smile split his beard as they approached. “Now, here's a rare moment.” He beamed from one man to the other.

“Bannerman Boru.” Gideon's lilt was as rich and green as a summer meadow in
Éireann
. “A right fine honor.” Sunlight winked off the gold torc around his throat as he held out his hand.

“More for me, Gideon Lir.” They clasped forearms, each taking the other's measure before letting go. The faint gleam of approval in Lir's blue eyes both pleased Bann and pissed him off at the same time.
Who is he to judge me
?

A voice replied in his head.
Why, he's the direct descendent of the legendary Gideon Black Hand. So deal with it
. The last part sounded suspiciously like Shay's voice.

Gideon turned to Shay. “Healer.” The Knight inclined his head, an old-fashioned gesture that Bann could tell charmed Shay.

“
Céad mile fáilte
, Gideon Lir. It's been a long time.” Shay offered her hand.

“'Tis a pleasure to see you again.” His lean face lost its stern expression as he and Shay clasped arms, holding on a bit longer than Bann thought necessary.

“Lir was hunting a pair of
Amandán
,” Hugh said, “and those goblins led him to our neck of the woods. He smelled the smoke and came a-spying.”

“Hey, Hugh!” James shouted from the pig pit. “I think it's ready.”

“I'm needed, it appears. Shay, Bann, do not let our fine Knight leave without sharing a meal with us.” He hurried away.

Shay touched Bann's jacket sleeve. “I'll get us some drinks. Coors okay?” At Bann's nod, she walked over to the cooler sitting on the ground next to one of the tables and began shifting through the ice.

Gideon took a sip from his bottle. His eyes scanned the rest of the yard, taking in the other Knights, the children playing, then paused briefly—and appreciatively—at Shay bending over the ice chest. At Bann's raised eyebrow, he shrugged an apology. “Sorry. Though you cannot blame a man.”

Bann started to protest, then barked a short laugh. “I suppose I best get used to it.”

“Aye, you best.” The Knight's eyes danced with amusement. “And Hugh said you are to wed?”

“Late November. On the last full moon.”