Dragon Knight's Axe (13 page)

“Ask your friend, the Fae warrior, to return ye to your own time,” he drawled.

“I did.”

Alastair opened his eyes. “And?”

She chewed on her bottom lip before answering him. “He said until my destiny has been fulfilled, he couldn’t.”

“Bastard.”

“Yep. That’s what I told him.”

Fiona saw the edges of his mouth flicker in amusement.
So, the beast is capable of smiling
.
What else is behind his mask of steel?
Placing her hands on the ground behind her, she lifted her head up toward the sky. The late afternoon sun was a soothing balm on her frayed nerves. If she could, she would lie back and go to sleep on the ground.

“Alastair?”

“Aye?”

“Rory told me you are part Fae and have…
powers
?
Is it true?” She glanced sideways and saw him wince.

“And ye dinnae believe
your friend
?
”

She let out a snort. “Honestly, after everything I’ve been through, I trust
you
more than him. Nothing like finding out someone has been watching your every move for the past nineteen years.” Twisting a flower in her hand, she kept her eyes downcast.

“Four and twenty?” His voice low.

Well, well, he really had been listening.
“Yes.” She laughed. “And you?”

“Five and twenty winters.”

She had thought him to be older. Plucking another flower, she pulled at its petals.

“He is correct, Fiona. My Fae blood bonds my powers with the land. Nevertheless, I am no longer a Knight of the Order. We were disbanded long ago. Cursed for eternity.”

Fiona tossed the flower aside and looked up into his face. What she saw stunned her. Pain marred his features. She rarely witnessed
any
emotion from him. He was always in control. “Tell me,” she urged softly.

Alastair waved his hand about. “What always happens when power and misunderstandings occur? Violence and bloodshed. This one resulted in the death of our sister. It cannot be undone, nor forgiven.”

“Even if your relic can be purified? I realize nothing can bring back your sister, but don’t you want it back?”

He turned fully toward her. “Understand this, Fiona. I have no desire to return to my home, and I certainly have no right to claim what is no longer mine.”

“Fine, so be it.” Standing, she shook out her gown of the flowers she had plucked. Realizing there was nothing left for her to say, she bent and placed a kiss along his scar. “Thank you, Alastair, for rescuing me. You were my knight, my redeemer. I will always remember that.”

Before Fiona could draw another breath, Alastair stood and captured her face in his rough hands. His lips were so very close and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. “I am none of those,
none
, do ye hear me?” His breath was hot against her mouth, and he smelled of honeyed mead and male, making her crave his touch.

Fiona eased up onto her toes and was rewarded with a slight shove backwards, as if his hands burned from touching her.

Taking a few steps away, he leaned against the tree. “Go home, Fiona.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I will, Alastair.”
As soon as I return your axe to the Great Glen, I will definitely be going home.
Her decision now cemented after witnessing his pain. And the fact she needed to return home to her own time. Yet, she was confused. Her family was here. Perhaps her true home was in Navan.

Fiona’s legs trembled as she walked back down the hill—considering all the possibilities.

****

Alastair stared at his hands, unable to stop them from shaking. Fiona did not realize how close she came to being taken right there beneath the tree. The moment her lips touched his skin, the beast roared to life with such force it almost blinded him. Her lips begged to be kissed, and he was the one who wanted to feast on them.

Everything about Fiona tempted him. She was a riddle he could not sort. Quiet one moment—the next spouting curses, or mumbling to herself. She had no idea for every flower she plucked earlier, he had created more by using magic. He found himself charmed by her actions, stealing glances when she was not looking.

This enticement to Fiona O’Quinlan had to cease.

Walking in the opposite direction she had taken, Alastair made plans to leave. He could not spend another day, nor evening in this place. Glancing up at the sky, he realized there were only a few hours of daylight. Leaving now, they would be able to reach Dunnyneill by late tomorrow.

He halted abruptly.
What about Alva?
Rubbing a hand over several days’ growth of beard, he decided to speak to Niall. By chance, he could return the woman. His duty was finished. He had brought Fiona to her brothers, safely. Nothing more should be required of him.

Picking up his pace, he caught sight of Ivar with the horses. “Where is Gunnar?” he shouted.

“With Desmond hunting.”

“It is late in the day to be out hunting for food.”

Ivar patted one of the horses and smiled. “Some of the men have already returned. It would seem Gunnar and Desmond took to a battle of swords afterwards.”

Leave it to Gunnar to stir things up. “Bloody hell,” he hissed. “I wanted to depart.”

“Now?” asked a stunned Ivar.

“Aye, now!” he snapped. “Gather everything and prepare the horses. As soon as Gunnar returns, we are leaving.”

Grumbling, Ivar led the horses away.

Alastair went to search out Niall. A group of children were playing nearby and as soon as they saw him they stopped all movement. They did not say a word as he passed. Some actually stared, while others bowed their heads.

He knew what they thought.
Scarred monster
. Gritting his teeth, he looked the other way—quickly passing them and entering the house. Instantly, he heard shouting.

Alastair sighed—relieved he would soon be leaving. Slowing his pace, he paused outside the hall. He could distinctly make out the voices of Niall and Brian. However, Fiona’s captured his attention.

“By all that is holy,
Fee
, ye will not be traveling without one of your brothers!” exclaimed Niall.

“And apparently you have not been listening,
Niall
.
I will have Kevan and a few of your most trusted men. I believe we can handle this. I’ve been on my own most of my life, making decisions and carving out a life without overprotective, overbearing, interfering brothers.”

“If this is the future for women, then we are all damned,” interjected Brian.

“Excuse me?” Fiona’s voice had risen an octave. “You are positively barbaric.”

“And
ye
are a stubborn lass,” hissed Brian.

Alastair leaned back against the wall, smiling. She definitely had courage to stand up to her brothers. But they were correct. If she were traveling anywhere, then she would require an escort.

“Now everyone, please. I will be accompanying Fiona on her journey, and I am positive we can enlist the aid of the Fae warrior,” said Kevan.

Alastair straightened. “God’s blood,” he uttered quietly. Why would she require the Fenian warrior? Unless…

“Yes,” said Niall slowly. “It would be wise if he were to make the journey with her. He would know where to take the relic.”

“As much as I am still at odds with Rory, a.k.a Fae warrior, I do agree with you. He could provide us with additional protection,” stated Fiona. “Hmmm, does he have special powers like Alastair?”

“Enough,” roared Alastair, storming into the room. “No one is traveling to Scotland.”

She placed her hands on hips and glared at him. “Really? Whom do you think is going to stop us? Surely not you.”

“’Tis not safe for ye,” growled Alastair. “Ye should listen to your brothers.”

“Exactly what we have been
trying
to tell her,” stated Niall.

She took a step toward Alastair, and he had to fight the urge not to take a step backwards. Her smile mocked him. “Let’s see…I have Kevan, a druid, exceptionally knowledgeable. Then there are a few of Niall’s men for brute strength. Hopefully, we can snag Rory. He can help us travel through Scotland. Do tell, Alastair, does he have certain powers? If so, I believe we’ll be just fine.” Turning her back on him, she crossed her arms over her chest, and started tapping her foot.

Alastair’s fury at all the previous events now boiled. Did she honestly believe he would let her travel with a druid and Fenian warrior?
With his axe?
His eyes glazed over as he could see she had convinced her brothers.

His voice took on a menacing tone when he spoke. “I doubt the MacGregor would want any part of this.”

“Now why would you think that, MacKay?” asked Rory, strolling into the room.

Alastair whipped around to face the warrior. “This is none of your business,
Fae
.” Instantly, he saw the flash of light in Rory’s eyes.

“I beg to differ. It is my business and responsibility to Fiona and her brothers. She has been entrusted with your relic and has decided to take it home. What she does afterwards is entirely up to her.”

The two men continued to stare at each other. Dragon Knight and Fae warrior. Although, the Dragon Knight wanted to wipe that smirk off the warrior’s face with his fist. There was only one way out of this mess.

“Are you ready to leave, Alastair?” asked Gunnar striding into the room.

Placing his hands on his hips, Alastair shook his head. “Nae. We will be leaving at dawn, and
I
shall be escorting Fiona to Scotland.”

All hell broke loose as everyone started shouting again, except Fiona. Giving him a secretive smile, she walked quietly out of the room.

Chapter Eighteen

“A Knight will find his true compass when he surrenders his free will.”

“Are you bloody serious?” hissed Gunnar, keeping his voice low over the din of the others.

“Completely,” replied Alastair returning his glare.

“Have you been drinking? For it surely seems as if your senses are clouded. What about the rest of the shipment? Or have you forgotten about that?”

“Nae.” Stepping away from Fiona’s brothers who were still arguing loudly amongst themselves, he pulled Gunnar to the side. “We shall travel to Glenroth, and from there ye can go on to Mull. I trust ye can handle the rest of the goods and Eric.”

Gunnar shifted his stance. “You want us to leave you in Scotland? Did you not vow never to return?”

For a brief moment, Alastair actually considered relenting. What was he doing? In truth, it made no sense—
none
. He had no desire to return home, especially to the Great Glen. His gut clenched, and he cast his gaze to the Fenian warrior. Seeing the smug look on the Fae’s face, reminded Alastair why he was doing this. The axe was his—bound to him and no other.

Clamping a hand on Gunnar’s shoulder, he nodded. “Aye, ye shall leave me in Scotland. Go inform Ivar. We will depart before dawn.”

As Gunnar grumbled a curse, Alastair watched him leave the hall. Walking over to a table, he filled a mug with drink. Taking a hearty guzzle, he noticed Desmond had wandered over.

“I will be journeying with ye, MacKay.”

Alastair raised an eyebrow in amused contempt. “And your reason?”

“To protect Fiona.”

“’Tis far too late, don’t ye think?” Alastair refilled his mug, seeing Desmond’s fist tighten.

“We had no choice,” snapped Desmond.

Swallowing the mead, he looked at Desmond. “There is
always
a choice. In dealing with the Fenian warrior, ye paid a high price.”

Desmond took a few steps forward. “We would have done anything to protect her, including forfeiting our own lives. Ye of all men should understand.”

And there it was—the truth. Slicing into Alastair’s soul and tearing open the scar left when Margaret, his sister, died.

“We leave before dawn. Tell your sister to be prepared for the long journey.” Grabbing the jug, Alastair turned and walked away, leaving Desmond no time to protest.

What was done was done. The past lay buried just like his sister.
Dead and gone
. With each step he took, Alastair made a vow to himself. He would do all he could to protect Fiona. She would not suffer the same fate as his sister.

His beast howled.

****

The cold, damp air did nothing to soothe Fiona’s nerves. It might be summer in July, but the morning was brisk along with everyone’s mood. As she watched all the preparations, her mind whirled. She was leaving with her brother Desmond, Rory, Kevan, Alva, and
him
. And his mood was absolutely the worst. When she had greeted Alastair with a good morning, he actually snapped at her—asking what the bloody hell was good about it.

Desmond kept eyeing Alastair as if he wanted to slay him, and Rory bit off a curse when Gunnar said something in passing. Kevan sat quietly on a boulder with his eyes closed.

It would seem the only ones in tolerable moods were herself and Alva. And she knew why Alva was anxious to leave. The woman was positively giddy to be returning home.

“Home? Didn’t I just find mine?” she muttered, stroking her horse. The animal let out a soft whinny, and Fiona rubbed her muzzle. “You are a beauty, my friend. What is your name?” She giggled when the horse snorted.

“Her name is Maeve,” replied Niall striding forward.

Fiona’s eyes lit up when she saw him. He was so tall, though not as tall as Alastair, but enough to make her wonder why she was so short. Even Brian and Desmond towered over her. Maybe her mother was short like herself. “Yes, I know.”

Niall smiled broadly. “Ahh…ye have retained your gift.”

She looked away.
How could he have known? No one knew.
“How?” Her voice barely a whisper.

Niall cupped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “Fee, ye have been speaking to the animals since ye were a wee lass.” A flicker of sadness passed over his eyes when he added, “Our mother had the gift as well.”

Fiona blinked. “She did?” She’d kept that secret her entire life, not even sharing it with her grandmother for fear she would think her insane. No one knew the real Fiona. She’d buried the secret so deep until this moment. Now, to find out her mother could speak with the animals, too…if only she could speak with her.