Dragon Knight's Axe (12 page)

“Nae,” interjected a loud male voice. “Who would have him?”

Niall grimaced. “Hold your tongue,
Brian
, or I will remove it. Ye ken I will find a wife when it is time.”

“Ye wound me, my brother,” he said coming forward. Stopping abruptly in front of Fiona, he eyed them both, as all traces of humor vanished instantly from his face. “Sakes, can it truly be?”

“Yes, Brian,” uttered Niall, placing an arm around Fiona. “Our sister has returned.”

Brian reached out hesitantly to cup her face. “She has the look of our mother,” he said softly.

“You are my brother, too? How many are there?” she asked, seeing the similarities in the eyes and mouth.

“One other. Desmond. I have sent for him,” replied Niall.

Brian scowled as he peered at her clothing. “Why is she dressed in this fashion, and her hair short like a lad?” His gaze fixed on Alastair standing a few steps away.

“We have yet to hear her story,
or
how she came to be with the MacKay,” answered Niall.

Fiona noticed how Brian’s hand touched briefly on his sword as if in silent warning toward Alastair. Great. Now she had overprotective brothers. “If you don’t mind, I would very much like to hear this explanation.” Looking back over her shoulder, she spotted Rory. “And one from you, too.”

Niall moved away, waving to one of the men. Turning back to her, he said, “Would ye not like to rest and change into proper clothing? I have sent your maid to your chamber.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I can wait another moment to find out why…” She swallowed before adding, “I have traveled so far to find my…
kin
.”

“Fee,” pleaded Niall. “Will ye not change?”

“No,” she snapped. “I am tired, hungry, and would love a bath, but I assure you my appetite is much stronger for the truth in all of this.”

Niall’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “Your clothing is a befuddlement to the men.”

Why did he have to look so dejected? And why did she suddenly feel sorry for him when he resorted to begging? “Oh all right,” she grumbled, and then added, “but don’t start discussing
anything
until I return. I will not be long.”

Niall waved over one of the men. “Padrig will take ye to your chamber.”

Brian tried to hide a laugh behind his fist, sputtering, “Just as stubborn as I remember.”

“I heard that,” she yelled back over her shoulder.

Chapter Sixteen

“Ask a druid for an answer and he will give you a riddle. Ask a dragon, and she will tell you to discover it on your own.”

All talk ceased the moment Fiona entered the hall. She moved slowly in their direction, her head held high. Her eyes scanned the area and landed smack on him, and he held her gaze. She was a goddess in a flowing gown of pale green and gold, and he was bewitched. He wanted her to leave and put back on her old clothing. She gave him a slight smile, and he fought the urge to rush forward and claim her hand for a kiss.

Instead, Alastair’s fist clenched the mug he held, his knuckles turning white. His eyes followed her movement as she made her way to the chair, sitting next to Niall. When she glanced his way, he noticed how her long, dark lashes framed her eyes.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked him, batting her lovely eyes, most likely unaware of the effect she had on him.

“Nae,” he croaked.

“Oh,” she said, as her lips formed a slight pout.

By the Gods, he wanted to drag her across the table and feast on her. Quickly averting his gaze, Alastair drained his mug, and his hand shook when he grabbed the jug to pour some more.

Two things occurred to him as he drank deeply. He had been on land far too long, and he had not bedded a woman in many moons. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he understood the one woman his body craved was the one he could not have.

She called out to his lustful beast, nothing more. Furthermore, Fiona was not his type of woman. He liked them tall, buxom, and with fair hair. Taking another hearty swallow of mead, he stole another glance her way. In truth, she was heavily endowed and with a face to entice any hungry man—sorely tempting his appetite.

Gunnar moved past him and sat down. “Are you going to share the mead, or are your plans to get pissed drunk?”

Alastair only grunted, passing the jug toward him.

“It is plain for all to see Fiona is kin to the O’Quinlan,” said Gunnar, filling his mug. “I would like to hear how his sister was lost all those years.”

“Agreed.” Setting his mug down, Alastair sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “’Tis time ye explained, O’Quinlan,” he stated, raising his voice.

Fiona had only taken a few bites of food, but nodded in agreement with Alastair. Swallowing, she placed her hands in her lap. “I need to understand all of this.”

Niall grasped her hand and stood. Seeing Brian entering, he asked, “Are they here?”

“Aye,” he replied, taking his seat next to Fiona.

All eyes were on the door when two other men entered. Alastair surmised this was the other brother, with the druid, Kevan, following behind him. Rory stood and greeted the druid like long lost brothers.

Alastair’s gut clenched, and his instincts told him to flee this place and set out for the coast. He sensed a tremor of warning weave its way throughout his body. Glancing around the room, he knew something was not right. He, a former Dragon Knight, sat with a druid, a Fenian warrior, and a woman who had traveled the veil of time—all screaming to him of
Fae
magic.

His mind whirled.
If the Fae were involved
…

Bile rose in his throat realizing he was the key that unlocked the secrets, which they were about to hear. He had rescued Fiona. He had brought her back home. What more would they ask of him?

So deep in thought, he barely registered someone speaking to him. Placing his mug down, Alastair stood. “And ye are?”

“Desmond. I am in your debt for returning our sister. We never were told her fate and at times, we feared her dead. How did ye come to free her?”

Suddenly, Alastair’s face went grim. “From slave traders on Dunnyneill.”

“God’s blood,” hissed Desmond.

Niall whirled around to face Rory. “How did this happen? Ye were sent to protect her. Is that not what ye told us? I
trusted
ye when she was no more than a wee lass.”

“Protect me?” squeaked Fiona. “From what?”

Rory held up his hand to halt the barrage of questions now directed at him. “I did protect her by taking her to live with a descendant of your clan. However, you must understand, once she traveled the veil to return, I was unable to assist her.” All of the brothers were now standing, flinging curses at him, and shoving their fists into the air.

This was getting them nowhere, thought Alastair.

As if hearing his thoughts, Fiona stood abruptly and silenced them with a wave of her hand. “Enough. Everyone sit down, and Niall”—she turned to him—“please start at the beginning.”

Alastair hid his smile behind his fist.

Taking his place, Niall sucked in a huge breath and exhaled slowly. “Fiona, what is your earliest remembrance?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I might have been six years old. A school memory or with my grandmother. Nothing specific.”

“No others? Are ye sure?”

Fiona’s brow furrowed. “Yes, Niall, I’m positive.”

“Fiona, the last time we were together was the day after our village was attacked by enemies. Ye were only five summers.”

She felt the color drain from her face. “Please tell me those were not real?” she asked, clutching her hands together.

“What, Fiona?”

“My nightmares of death and carnage,” she blurted out. Wiping a trembling hand across her forehead, she added, “Fires blazed all around me and this…
this monster
, he came for me.”

“It was the night our parents were slain,” said Brian softly.

She glanced at him. “Our parents?”

“Aye, Fee,” replied Niall. “They killed them in front of ye. Had I not pulled ye away at the last moment, he would have come for ye. We fled to old oak trees—the ones sacred to the druids, and stayed until morn. Desmond and Brian followed with our uncle. In truth, your nightmares are memories of that horrific night.”

“But you left me all alone, remember?”

Niall looked across the table at Rory, glaring at the man. “We sent the warrior to protect ye. He never told us what became of ye. Only that he took ye somewhere safe, and one day ye would return to us to fulfill the prophecy.”

“
Prophecy?
” Alastair and Fiona asked in unison.

“I can answer that,” interrupted Kevan, standing and directing his gaze at Alastair.

“Do not look to me,
druid
,” growled Alastair. The warning screamed at him to leave,
now
. His sight followed the druid as he walked slowly over to a side table.

“Fiona’s destiny is linked to yours, Dragon Knight.”

Alastair’s tone held a threat of warning. “I told ye I am not that man.”

Kevan ignored him as he lifted an item covered with cloth off the table and walked over to Fiona. “She was chosen by the Guardian to take possession of this. Ye will be her escort.” Turning around he presented it to the occupants at the table.

Alastair’s body stiffened in shock. The druid did not have to remove the covering, for his Fae senses came alive the moment the druid placed it near him. “By all that’s holy, dinnae touch it!”

Again, the druid seemed not to hear him, keeping his focus on Fiona. “’Tis yours, Fiona. Ye must return it to the Great Glen in Scotland.”

Alastair held his breath as her fingers glided over the fabric. Carefully unfolding the cloth, she gasped. Her head snapped up and her eyes met his. “
Yours
?”

“
Nae
,
” he roared, slamming his fist onto the table. He could not fathom how his axe came into their possession. Directing his fury at the druid, he realized what Kevan saw when he blanched in fear. His eyes blazed with that of the Fae, and he no longer cared what anyone thought.

“It is your path,” said Kevan, his voice stern.

“I want naught to do with it or the prophecy. Do ye hear me? We leave at dawn. It
and
Fiona can stay here.” Standing, he shoved his chair back, letting it crash onto the floor, and stormed out of the hall.

Desmond stood to block his path, but Alastair placed his hand upon his sword in warning. His fingers itched to fight as he glared at the man, daring him to make the first move. No one was going to tell him what to do. They were all fools. How easy it would be to take down the entire building with one thought.

Seeing the look in his eyes, Desmond backed away. Alastair snickered. “Coward.”

Immediately, the hiss of steel echoed throughout the room as every man drew his blade. Alastair moved swiftly, pinning Desmond against the wall.

“No,” screamed Fiona, pushing past Brian. She rushed to him and clutched his arm. “Stop this, Alastair! I don’t know what your problem is, but I will not have you kill a member of my family before I get a chance to know them.”

He glanced down at her hands. Such strength in hands so tiny, he thought.

She brought one of those hands to his cheek, and he shuddered. “Please, don’t do this,” she pleaded.

Memories of honor and being a Dragon Knight battled the dark beast within. The beast wanted them all to die and to claim the woman. His eyes flickered over her face. Moments passed as his breathing slowed. In the end, the beast relented.

“Let me go, Fiona,” he rasped.

“You first,” she whispered.

He gave her a smirk, releasing his grip on her brother’s throat, and lowered his sword. Fiona instantly complied as well.

Giving her a curt nod, he walked out with Gunnar following quietly.

Fiona whirled around to face Kevan. Pointing a finger at the item laying on the table, she asked, “What is that?”

“That Fiona,” interjected Rory, “is a relic.”

“Looks like an axe, though beautiful.”

“It belongs to Alastair.”

She rubbed her temples. “This is all so incredibly confusing. If it belongs to Alastair, then why is it here?”

“Because Alastair and his brothers were cursed by the Fae, and their relics taken. I told you some of their story, but you need to ask him for answers to any further questions.”

“And you, Rory? What exactly are you?”

He stepped closer. “’Tis a long story.”

“Then give me the short version, for I’m about to pass out from all this excitement.”

Chapter Seventeen

“When the Knight grows weary of the fight, he will learn to love again.”

“Why do I care?” Fiona grumbled, making her way along the path. She’d spent the past few hours arguing with Rory over his part in all of this. Even her brothers were furious at him and Kevan. Secrets upon secrets, causing her mind to swim trying to sort out reality versus myth.

“And now an axe crafted by the
Fae
for the Dragon Knights,” she mumbled.

Until she spoke with Alastair, she was not going anywhere. Hitching up her gown, she strode up the hill, after seeking out Gunnar in an attempt to find the infuriating man.
Ahh…there is the beast.

“Are you really leaving?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. Shading her eyes from the sun, Fiona couldn’t tell if he was actually asleep or ignoring her as he sat against a tree. Probably ignoring, since he was tossing pebbles only moments ago.

Stepping closer, she nudged his leg with her foot. “I asked you a question, so don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Leave me be, Fiona. Ye are home now. Be happy.”

Why did she bother with this brute? He obviously couldn’t care less about her or his relic. Yet, something about him intrigued her, and for reasons she did not comprehend, she wanted to help.

Foolish, she thought, but the truth.

Bunching up her gown, she plopped down next to him. “Hmmm…be happy? I am a woman transported from a modern world back to a medieval prison. I find it completely frightening and exhilarating at the same time. But happy? Not really.”