Celtic Stars (Celtic Steel Book 4) (13 page)

"I, I...I've neva'", she began, "and I'm no' sure if I'm rea...."

"Shhhh...." he replied, and pulled her closer. "Did ye think me a dishonorable mon, Dervilla?" She shook her head no. "Did ye believe I intended to take advantage of ye? Do ye think I planned to 'ave me way with ye and send ye off as if ye meant nothing to me?"

She sobbed again, loosening her grip about his waist.

He let her go this time, dropping his arms to his side, but grasping her hands with his own.  He held up his kerchief as a peace offering and watched silently as she availed herself. When she had dried the last of her tears, he pulled her chin up to meet her eyes. "Dervilla, I am no' a devilish mon. My feelings for ye are sincere and
honorable
."               She looked down, but he refused to release her chin. "Look at me."

She raised her moist eyelids to meet his stare. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Ye don't need to be sorry, Dervilla."

"It's just that...well, I'm not good with...it's not my intention to..."

"Dervilla," he started, "are ye innocent?"

"Aye," she replied sheepishly.

"Are ye embarrassed because of it?" he prodded.

"Aye, I am."

He hugged her tightly and chuckled, sending shivers up her spine. "Dervilla," he laughed even more, "We are the same."

S
EVENTEEN

O'Malley Territory

It had taken nearly an hour longer than Darina estimated to arrive at the top of the ridge. Not only was her size an imposition, but Airard's breathing had become labored and they stopped every so often for him to rest. The scented eucalyptus sachets provided by Vynae afforded him some brief relief, but Darina feared he was near to becoming untreatable. His palour was ghostly, his hands were feeble holding the reigns and the crackling sound emanating from his lungs told its own story.

He was adamant he would see Covar, and seeing how she had her own business to attend with the ethereal giant, Darina made no argument against their trip. She would have some answering to do, of that she was sure. There was no way she would make it back to the stables, or to the keep without her absence being noted.  Patrick would thrash her with his tongue, but for now at least, he couldn't do it with his mind.  She had long since locked him out of that private space, and with good reason.

"Ye wait here," whispered Airard against the wind. But, she knew what he said just the same, having read his puckered lips. He slid down the side of his horse and handed her the reigns. His face brightened a bit when just above them on the crest they heard a familiar whirling sound and saw a bright light encapsulating the ridge.

"Covar," she muttered. Airard nodded and smiled, clasped his hands behinds his back and disappeared into a fog of silver light.  After she had managed to climb down from her own horse, Darina made a rough pallet on the grass and lay down for a quick nap.  The smell of the outdoors and warm sunlight quickly sung her into a sleep-like trance.

She was tired; physically mostly but also mentally. The months following her marriage to Patrick had been filled with stress, turmoil, fear, threats of impending war, and family drama. Drama she knew wasn't likely to end anytime soon. Her energy was nearly completely gone and she longed for the care-free days of her youth. She longed for the days before the reality of her responsibilities as Lord's wife set in and threatened to drown her.

She could see him, in the distance, her handsome Highland warrior. He was calling and beckoning for her to join him.  He was just ahead, above the ridge, near the falls, where they would swim and sunbathe and picnic under the stars. They hadn't taken a trip after their hurried nuptials, they hadn't taken any time for themselves at all. Instead, they were forced to jump in, right from the start, with the delicate affairs of protecting their clan, their village and not only their people, but the Burke's people as well.  And, she had become pregnant, almost immediately.

Their days were fast and furious and filled with challenges and danger at every turn. Darina was still mother to her younger sisters, who had all been left orphaned. There was nothing of Darina left any longer.  It seemed as if she owed her life and soul to others.
Always the others
.  Nevermind the turmoil burning inside of her, the secret she couldn't share with anyone, not ever her Patrick. She feared what it all meant and hoped against hope that it wasn't an omen of things to come, or confirmation that she had completely lost her mind.

He was there, still, calling for her.  His long hair was blowing in the breeze, and his chiseled, tanned features beckoned to her.  Arms outstretched, he continued to summon her, but she was never quite able to reach him. Ever in the distance, he was growing further apart from her now, sliding backward in a vortex of fog and mist. His voice trailed off, and he no longer called to her. Had he given up? Had he found another?  Hot tears moistened her cheeks and she lay quietly, silently searching for a slumber that never came. She mourned for her love, the life they could not have and the long-neglected passion she feared was gone forever.

"Darina."

She struggled to sleep or to wake, she wasn't sure.

"Darina."

She tossed and turned and felt the weight of the baby she carried shift to her right side, sending a cramp across her rib cage and down through her hip.

"Darina," it said again.

Startled, she sat up on the pallet and straightened her cloak. A warm, weathered hand stroked her forehead, clearing her hair from her eyes. "Darina," Airard repeated, "I am finished here.

"I must ha' dozed off," she replied, attempting to stand. Airard chuckled and motioned for her to move over instead, taking a spot next to her on the blanket.

"Is it my turn?" she asked.

"Nay," he waved her off. "Covar is gone now."

"But - I needed to see him."

"Aye, I know. He gave me a message for ye though, to take back."

"What do ye' mean? Are ye not coming back, Airard?"

Airard smiled and grabbed her right hand in his. "Me days are numbered lass. I will stay here, with Covar," he smiled. "'T'wil be easier for evaone this way."

Tears crowded Darina's eyes and threated to plunder her cheeks. What on earth would she tell Patrick? He would be so angry with her for leaving Airard here. He would blame her, and she would have no defense at all if he believed her that is.

I will deal with Patrick meself Darina.

She covered her mouth with her hand in astonishment. Airard, did ye read my thoughts?

Aye, I did. Up here, with Covar, there is no reason to disguise your thoughts me lass.

"I'm scared, Airard. There are things, things I do not even know how to talk about that, I just don't know to explain that....."

"Darina, ye've no reason to explain to me, and ye've no reason to fear either." Airard grabbed her around the neck and hugged her to himself. With shaky hands, he lightly stroked the back of her shoulders. "Ye are most definitely fulfilling a unique purpose, Darina. Ye and Patrick. There are so many things working in and around ye, and your clan, ye are blessed by the gods and it won't be long 'til ye see just that. Ye are surrounded with blessings, not curses, as ye believe."

Darina sobbed.

"Tell Patrick to follow the sun," he said.

"Follow the sun?" she asked, inquisitively.

"Patrick will know what that means, Darina. And - ye shall call him,  Rory," he added, pointing to her swollen belly.

"What?"

Covar said that ye shall call him, Rory.

"My babe? It
is
a boy, I knew it," she smiled, imagining Vynae's soon to be astonishment.

"Aye."

"Rory, after me uncle?" she asked.

"Nay," said Airard, shaking his head and pointing to her belly, "Rory. After his,
great-great-great-great-great-great-great-
grandson.

E
IGHTEEN

The Island

"I must speak to you now," the voice rang in Gemma's mind. Or was it her ear? She wasn't sure, she just knew she was bone tired and she had just gotten the last of her little ones to finally bed down. Drums were calling from across the island and no doubt the festivities would begin soon, but this was no bacchanal in which she would participate. Her littlest was just beginning to walk and her eldest was just now big enough to help. Her maidservant had already left for the festival and Gemma was on her own for the evening. Between her and her four small daughters, there wasn't enough time in the day, or hours at night to catch up on sleep. No. She wouldn't entertain the voice, not at this hour. Her wine was taking affect, and she admonished her brain to take note of the matter and to just be quiet.

'But, I must speak to you. Now," it countered, rubbing her on the shoulder this time.

Gemma tossed a bit and rolled over, rubbed her eyes with both fists, and swung the coverlet off the bed and onto the floor. Positioning her feet over the side of the bed, she managed to prop herself up on shaky arms and stare straight into the eyes of seven-year-old Maeryn, who appeared just as startled as she to be awakened.

"Mammy," she began, "The bairns are all still asleep."

"Aye, good Maeryn. That's a good lass. What do ye need baby?" she asked.

"Nothing, mam."

Gemma looked around the cottage to see that in fact, the other three girls were all bundled up and bedded down behind the drape screen, and one was even snoring in cadence with the drums.  "Maeryn, what do ye need lass?"

"Nothing, mam," Maeryn repeated, confused.

"The why did ye wake me, lass?" Gemma retorted, just as confused.

"I didn't mam. The lady outside did."

"What lady, Maeryn?" Gemma asked startled.

"I don't..I didn't see her. I heard her, mam. When I made to open the latch on the door, she bid me get ye instead. She wouldn't come inside. She told me to look after me seestas as she had need of ye this eve."

Gemma's heart froze. Was there someone here to take her babes? They weren't male.  She couldn't imagine why anyone would want to kidnap her children, aside from the fact she was the Ruire, and they could hold them for ransom.

"I must speak to you, now. Her life depends on it."

Gemma's breath caught in her throat and she grabbed Maeryn about the shoulders. "Listen," she whispered. "Maeryn, I fear we may be in danger. Get ye that dagger I had made for you, and go stand with yer seestas. If ye hear me say it's time for tea, take the babes to the Missus O'Reilly's cottage, ye ken?"

Maeryn whimpered but did as she was told. Gemma dressed as quickly as she could and jumped into her boots, donning her overcloak and grabbing her sword simultaneously. Grabbing a lanthorn from her sideboard, she softly opened the latch on the cottage door, motioning for Maeryn to lock it behind her as soon as she was over the threshold.

"Good eve, Milady," a strong male voice greeted.

Relieved to see an O'Malley soldier down the cobblestone pathway, Gemma greeted back and pretended to shuffle the stack of firewood just outside her door.

"Anathing I can help ye with mam?" he asked.

"Nay, nay - I'm jest a little restless that's all. I think the drums are keeping me up. Thank the goddess me bairns could sleep through an earthquake though," she joked, hoping to throw him off her nervousness.

"Well, good then," he replied, "I'll be moving along. Good eve', milady," he said as he turned and walked the other direction.

Gemma stood for several moments and surveyed the area. It was dusk, the drums were growing louder and the light from the surrounding cottages was slowly diminishing. All that was left for many was the tell-tale sign of peat moss smoke burning through the tops of chimneys. Nothing seemed amiss. It would be nigh impossible for anyone who didn't belong on the island to be wondering about. The ferries had closed many hours before and the placement of the O'Malley sentries, over whom she had fought Patrick and lost, were at their posts, standing guard or patrolling.

"I must speak to ye. Please, do not be afraid."

"Where are ye?" asked Gemma, hands now trembling. "Show yourself."

"I am here, behind the barn. My appearance may frighten ye, and I don't want that. I don't."

"What's wrong with ye?" asked Gemma, walking slowly toward the stables. The horses were silent, but the goats were rustling, and they sounded upset. "Tell me, why would ye frighten me? Not much frightens me. And - why must ye see
me
?"

"I cannot communicate with her, I've tried," the voice said. "I need ye to come with me, so that we can tell her what she needs to do."

"Who, who are ye talking about?" Gemma asked, nearing the side of the barn.

"Please, stop," the voice said.

Gemma complied but grabbed tighter to her sword.

"I need to return her," the voice continued. "But I can't without her help first, and I can't seem to make her understand that."

"Who, who are ye talking about?" asked Gemma.

"Daenal."

Gemma's heart stopped in her chest and she froze in her tracks. "Ye have

Daenal?"

"Aye."

"Where do ye have her?"

"At the falls."

"Is she alone?"

"Nay, she is with my son."

"What does Daenal call ye?"

"She calls me Red."

***

"She is your niece, I don't understand why ye wouldn't want to do anathing about the fact that she is missing?" Odetta questioned, adding a small curtsey before standing bolt upright and leaning her left hand on the side Jamie Burke's table in the O'Malley great hall.

He continued his assault on the turkey leg in his right hand and wiped his left hand on the cloth in his lap. Her requests were becoming more and varied over the passed few weeks and nothing was so important that he need miss his evening meal. Jamie had even agreed to Patrick's request to hold off searching for his beloved Daenal, and now here she was again asking for yet another favor.  His mother was becoming a big pain in his wide Irish arse.