Unholy Blue (40 page)

And a burden
, Shay thought. She forced a smile of farewell as her uncle left. They sat in silence even after the front door closed with a soft
thud
. Peeking out of the corner of her eye, she caught the telltale crease between Bann's brows, his lips pressed thin.

I know what that means. He's struggling between doing the right thing and doing the right thing by this family
. She wasn't surprised when he quietly excused himself and walked out the back door. Rising to her feet, she glanced out the kitchen window before heading back to her shop. As she continued to unpack, she tried to ignore the twinge of guilt.

Being a Healer means ye surrender a portion of yer personal life for the good of the clan. Are ye willing to do that, Shay Doyle
? The voice of her old master spoke in her head.
But if ye are willing, ye should know that the joy of helping yer people outweighs, by a hundredfold, that which ye have sacrificed
.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, and yanked open the top flap on another box.

Bann closed the French door behind him. Even in the warmth of the mid-morning sun, the chill of the late November day made him wish he was wearing more than just a long-sleeved Henley. Hands tucked into his jean pockets, he stepped to the edge of the redwood deck, lingering in a patch of full sunlight as he stared over the fence and into the trees. He could not shake Hugh's words.

I only wish to be a common man. A Knight of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. Busy with raising a family, teaching my sons and daughters to hunt our ancient foes, and loving my wife until we go to our long sleep, side by side, under a cairn of stone
.

A sense of unfairness swept through him.
And haven't I already sacrificed enough just by being the long-son of the Boru? Now that our family curse has been laid to rest, do I not deserve some happiness
?

The door opened. A moment later, Shay's warm arms wrapped around him.

“If you're worried about my decision,” he said before she could ask, “then there is no need. I stand by what I said earlier—I will not be king.”

“Are you sure that's the right decision?”

He blinked in surprise. “But I thought you didn't…”

“I still don't. But maybe we
should
take time to think this through. Make the best decision for everyone involved, not just us.”

He turned in her arms and wrapped his own around her. “Why does
the best decision
seem like the one neither of us wants?” He gazed down at her. Even with her hair disheveled, a smudge of newsprint on her chin from the newspapers they'd used to cushion the breakables, and a frown line between her brows, her wholesome loveliness still took his breath away.
She would make a beautiful queen. And not just on the outside
.

“I don't know,” she said, then gave him a little shake. “But let's not allow this decision to overshadow our special day tomorrow. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

They sealed their resolution with a kiss.

T
HE NEXT EVENING
, B
ANN
stood waiting at the top of the stairs at Hugh and Ann's house. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, ordering his heart to cease careening from one side of his chest to the other.

From the living room, he could hear the murmur of voices from the clan packed in there like a pub in Boston on St. Patrick's Day. Another crowd, louder and more boisterous, and all of them women of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, milled about in the entryway below him. Catcalls and hoots, and a few shouts of
show us what you're wearing under there
filled the air. His face warmed when he thought about running that gauntlet in a few minutes.

He looked down at himself, certain he looked as ridiculous as he felt. Made of soft buckskin, the kilt was stained a rich brown, the same shade as his hair, and was tooled with a running Celtic rope pattern around the hem, which ended just above his knees. It was held in place by a wide belt around his waist, and he was weaponless. Lace-up workman boots completed the look. He wore a simple white shirt in a linen so fine, it felt like silk on his skin.

Reaching up to straighten his
torc
for the sixth time, he paused at a sudden commotion amongst the women. Gideon Lir walked out of the living room, his black hair and broad shoulders an anomaly amongst the redheaded Doyle women. He made his way through the crowd to the bottom of the steps, pausing with a faint smile and remark each time a woman or two would block him and challenge his right to be in their midst. Even from the upper level, Bann caught the good-natured, but ribald exchanges between the Black Hand and the women. The phrase “Gideon's Spear” was used more than once. He was grateful Cor had dashed to the bathroom for a last-minute nervous piss.

Finally breaking free, Gideon jogged the steps with a wry expression. He wore black jeans and a black vest over a white shirt, and his torc gleamed through his open collar. His antler-hafted knife adorned his belt and he carried a long, cloth-wrapped object in one hand. Joining Bann in the upper corridor, he shook his head.

“I do not envy you. They are in fine fettle this evening.” He glanced around. “Where's your son?”

“Bathroom.”

“Ah. Well, 'twill be a minute more, anyway.”

“Right. And I want to thank you again, Lir. I have Cor, but it didn't seem enough.”

“Why, the honor is mine, to stand family with the long-son of our King on his wedding day.” He hesitated, then spoke again. “Speaking of Cor, I must thank
him
later, as well.”

“For what?”

“He has helped me come to a decision that I've been pondering for some time. I've been asked to take on an
apprentice by the MacCullen family. One of their nephews—Finnegan MacCullen. I was going to decline, but now…” He lifted a shoulder. “Mayhap it is time to let go of the past and embrace the future.”

Before Bann could ask what the Knight meant, Cor came trotting along the hallway. Looking years older in a blue dress shirt and dark slacks, and with his hair neatly combed—a surprise in itself—he beamed at the sight of the older Knight.

“Cormac Boru.” Gideon greeted the boy, his face softening. “A pleasure to see you again. Are you ready to do your part?”

“Yes, sir.” Cor smiled and held out both hands, palms up.

Unwrapping the object he carried, Gideon revealed Bann's bronze knife, the one he had given to Isobel, still flecked with his dried blood. Gideon laid it across Cor's hands. “Mind the blade now. 'Tis sharp.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Side by side, he and Cor took a stance in front of Bann. At that moment, the voices below quieted as the women all turned toward the living room.

Ann appeared in the doorway. She wore an emerald-green cocktail dress. It shimmered when she moved, revealing a subtle Celtic pattern woven into the silk. Speaking in Gaelic, she called out the traditional words. “Knight of the Tuatha Dé Danaan! Your bride awaits. Claim her if you dare.” The women cheered and whistled. Before returning to the living room, Ann blew a kiss to Bann, who smiled back.

“I'll see to it that Cor is in the other room in time,” Gideon said in a low voice over his shoulder, with a
meaningful look at the mob shifting closer to the bottom tread.

Bann nodded his thanks. He watched with pride as Cor, with the older Knight matching the boy's shorter stride, walked down the stairs. He smiled as the man snagged the back of Cor's shirt when the boy took a misstep. Once the two had reached the bottom—the crowd reluctantly letting them through—Bann licked his lips, mouth dry.
What would I give for a cold pint right now? In a pub. Preferably in Ireland. On its eastern coast
. He took another deep breath and started down.

The women surged around him even before he reached the last step. Resisting only a little, he allowed them to pull him into their midst. He kept moving, forcing his way as best he could without being too aggressive. The crowd tightened around him. He halted when the women closed ranks and separated him from Gideon and Cor.

“Not so fast, Knight.” One woman slapped a hand to his chest and kept it there, her palm pressed against his pectoral muscle. “How do we know you're worthy?” She waggled her eyebrows, daring him. “After all, marrying our Healer, who is also a fellow shield-maiden, is a pretty
big
task. How do we know you're
up
to it?”

Bann played along. A tiny part of him—okay, more than a tiny part—enjoyed it. “And which of you is bold enough to find out?”

“Oooh, a challenge.” The woman looked around. “What do you say, sisters? Shall we?”

Hands ran down his body, a few bolder ones fondling his buttocks or brushing their palms against his manhood through the leather kilt. Fingers rumpled his
hair, and one brave young woman brushed her lips along his before darting away. She collapsed into a pack of her friends, giggling like mad. Over the heads of the women, Bann noted in relief that Gideon, true to his word, had disappeared with Cor into the living room.
Good. The boy doesn't need to see what comes next
.

The hands became bolder. One pair began unbuttoning his shirt while another fumbled with his belt. Two others worked in unison and unwound his kilt. Bann kept his eyes focused on the beam over the living room door. The conversation he had had with Shay the night before as they lay in bed,
not
having sex in the worst way, ran through his head.

“So, you
didn't
do the Reveal when you married Elizabeth?” Shay had asked, fingers playing with his chest hairs in a way that made him want to punch himself for suggesting the whole “let's wait for our wedding night” stupidity.

“No. She thought it was barbaric, to use her words, for the man to have to demonstrate that he had a healthy body to bring to the marriage bed.”

“
Barbaric
is not the word I would use to describe it,” Shay had said, amusement coloring her voice. “It's more…
Chippendales
than anything.”

A singular wit, she has
, he thought, as the hands continued. Within less than a minute, his clothes lay in a pile at his feet. The women all eased back a step and took their time looking.

Standing naked except for his torc and boots, Bann kept his chin up as he fought to control his blush. And to control his body's reaction to having a group of strong, beautiful women eyeing him. They looked up and down
his body, many of them commenting to their neighbors. He was grateful that Jenny and Ann had decided not to join in the Reveal.

“Ann and I will wait in the living room with Shay and Isobel,” Jenny had said last night when they were gathered together to walk through the ceremony. “It would just be too awkward.”

“Why would it be awkward?” Ann had asked.

Jenny blinked. “Because Bann is going to be my brother-by-law. Family. It would be kind of…
indecent
… to see him naked and being groped by a bunch of women, don't you think?”

“Well…”

Jenny's eyes widened. “Wait.
You're
not thinking of being part of that, are you, Ann?”

Bann couldn't help laughing when Ann had muttered, “Well, I'm not
now
. And thanks for making me feel like a dirty old woman.”

“Nice. Very nice,” one of the younger Knights was saying. “A bit scarred up, though.”

“I like a man with a few battle scars,” another declared. “It means he knows which end of
his weapon
to use.” She accepted the applause with a broad grin. “Thank you, thank you.”

Another Knight, about Bann's age and wearing a ring similar to Shay's on her own left hand, swaggered closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. She wetted the tip of a finger with her tongue, then reached for his manhood.

Breathing through his nose, Bann clenched his teeth as the moist finger stroked his member.
Really
? he thought to the perfidious part of his body when it
swelled.
You couldn't have simply hung there? Disinterested
?

“Now,
that's
what I am talking about,” said the woman over her friends' cheers.

“Satisfied, are you?” Bann asked dryly.

“Sadly, no.” The woman stepped back. “But I bet Shay will be.” More cheers. “Speaking of Shay, we better get on with this.”

Picking up his clothes, they helped him dress. One of them brought him a leather sheath to attach to his belt. It was empty, awaiting the return of his knife. Tugging his shirt smooth, he tucked it in neatly, then raked his fingers through his hair, trying not to look like he had just been felt up by a bunch of women.
And took no pleasure from it. No, not one wee bit
. As the women filed into the living room, he waited, still buzzing from the testosterone rush and mighty grateful for the brief respite. Then, he followed.