Gift of the Realm (5 page)

“Last
night.”

He
set down his own cup with a thump, and leaned forward. His eyes narrowed on
her. “Last night? I happen to know you were here at Quinn Manor until well
after dark. Are you telling me you went up to the Door after that? Are you
crazy? The cliffs are treacherous during the day, at night they’re deadly!”

She
stiffened at the word crazy, but forced herself to relax. His reaction was
nothing more than she expected. And if he thought she was crazy for wandering
the cliffs at night, he’d consider her certifiable when he heard the rest. She
may as well confess and be done with it.

“I
may be crazy, but not crazy enough to go up there at night. I heard the woman,
I saw the rosebush, but I wasn’t there physically. I was...” She had to force
herself to finish the damning admission. “I was dreaming.”

She
held her breath, waiting for the derision to appear in his eyes. Instead, they
went blank, and he sat back in the chair.

“Dreaming?”
he asked quietly.

“Dreaming,”
she repeated. Now that she had committed herself, the words came easily. “I
dream. I can’t explain it really. It just...is. As a girl the dreams were
mystical and fascinating. Though I didn’t understand them at the time, I
dreamed of Ireland long before I’d ever set foot here. I’ve flown over the
coast on the wings of an eagle. I’ve taken tea with elves, spied on a pair of
leprechauns arguing over a crop of wild mushrooms. On several occasions, I’ve
watched a band of fairies at a
céilidh
, while a beautiful fairie
princess directed the music and festivities.”

She
paused, expecting him to scoff in disbelief. He remained silent and watching.
She picked up her cooling coffee and stared into the cup.

“But
the dreams changed that summer I came to Dunhaven. Instead of magical
adventures, now they suck me in like an unwilling captive.”

He
was watching, still, when her gaze rose to meet his.

“You’ve
read
Into the Mists
, so you’ll recall the twins in the story. They
weren’t just imaginary characters—well, not in the normal sense, anyway. I saw
them in my dreams and watched helplessly while a cruel force stalked them,
never quite allowing them to find their peace and live joyful lives. And Prince
Rory? His search for his lost soul wasn’t a solitary quest. I was there for
every disappointment.

“Dunhaven’s
Door has become an obsession. Every night I find myself at the center of the
ring, knowing there is something I need to do, and frustrated beyond endurance
because I can never discover what that something is. For ten years, the dreams
have battered me. The only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge I wasn’t
alone.”

She
took a bracing breath. “From the day I arrived in Dunhaven that summer, you’ve
joined me in the dreams, Colin.”

The
silence stretched out until she wanted to scream. When he finally spoke, she
thought she might.

“What
is it you want me to say, Keely?”

“Nothing,”
she insisted. “Nothing. Unless you can shed some light on all of this, I’d
rather you said nothing at all.” Disappointment made her throat tighten.
“Though you’ve walked with me in the dreams, you’ve never entered the ring.
Last night is the first time you’ve done so. It is the first time I’ve seen the
rosebush and the first time I’ve heard the woman. She called out to someone
named Owein.”

His
gaze slid from hers to settle briefly on the wet bar in the corner. When he
turned back again, his eyes were as cold as blue diamonds, his expression wiped
clear of all emotion.

Her
heart sank. He didn’t believe her. No surprise there. She barely believed it
herself.

“I
know all of this sounds insane, Colin.” Her voice was rough with the humiliated
tears she refused to shed. “Believe me. No one knows that better than I. I’d
hoped...” Her eyes slid shut on a sigh, and she shook her head. “I’d hoped you
could help me.”

She
forced herself to look at him again, and though the wary discomfort in his eyes
was nothing more than she’d expected, regret filled her.

What
had she been thinking, coming here like this? If life taught her anything, it
was that the dreams, their mystery, and the confused anxiety they caused, were
hers alone to bear. She’d managed them on her own this long. She’d solve them
on her own as well.

“Obviously
not,” she said tightly.

He
stood when she did.

So
embarrassed she was afraid she’d break out in hives, and wishing for all she
was worth that she hadn’t come, she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I
bothered you,” she said and hurried from the room.

This
was the second time she’d fled from an embarrassing incident with Colin Quinn.
It would damn well be the last.

Chapter
Six

“Saraid
lives.”

Owein
pushed away from the bar to slip loose-kneed into the chair Keely had vacated.

Colin’s
gaze swung from the empty doorway to stare down at the stunned relief in
Owein’s darkened eyes.

“You
mean to tell me you’ve pressed me all this time to help you break the curse,
when you weren’t sure she even lived?”

Owein’s
voice was sharp with censure. “You ask me that, Colin Quinn? Though you refuse
to recognize it as the gift it is, you’ve enough of the fairie blood to know
people of the realm are one with their true mate, heart and soul. I live, so it
follows, Saraid does as well. But Fiona, that fairie witch, shaped a curse
that’s held even against a king’s power. How was I to know she hadn’t found a
way to destroy the heart and leave the soul?”

Owein’s
logic was sound, so Colin gave no answer. He didn’t consider his fairie blood a
gift. From her comments, it was clear Keely had no knowledge of her fairie
heritage. Considering the strain on her face when she hurried from the room, he
didn’t think she would see her fairie blood as a gift, either.

It
was a shock to learn she recognized him in the dreams, meaning he appeared to
her in human form. His memories of the dreams were always from the mind of the
beast. And unlike her, his participation in them was never a cause for concern.

For
as long as he could remember, his Halfling blood had lived in harmony, coursing
through the boy by day—later the man—and the wolf by night. While the human
slept, the wolf prowled the fields and cliffs of Dunhaven.

With
Keely’s arrival in Ireland all those years ago, his solitary excursions had
ceased, but the change had been pleasurable, for the most part, and his
impressions, from their nightly walks, benign.

Until
this morning.

He
awakened to a sense of urgency and wasn’t surprised when he found her in his
foyer an hour later. She claimed he entered the ring last night, something he’d
always instinctively avoided in both wolf and human form. Keely’s first
physical awareness of Saraid on the same night couldn’t be a coincidence.

Though
he wished it otherwise, he could no longer avoid playing a role in the breaking
of the curse. Not when his mind still reeled from the stark look of despair in
Keely’s sorceress eyes. She’d all but apologized for being visited by a force
she never asked for and one she didn’t understand.

Owein
insisted Colin claiming her as his destiny was the answer to breaking the
curse. Then again, that solution had a guaranteed side-benefit for the fairie
king. Combining the blood of two Halflings had always been the other half of
Owein’s agenda.

Colin
had no intention of fulfilling that half, but neither was he comfortable sitting
back and watching Keely fumble her way in the dark.

The
way he saw it, the intricacies of the curse were the key to breaking it. In his
experience, no problem, whether in business or day-to-day life, had only one
solution. There was always a back door. All he had to do was find it.

From
the date of Colin’s birth, Owein had been scheming to use him toward his own
selfish ends. Two, he decided, could play that game.

“What
is the significance of the rose?” he asked, bluntly.

Caught
in his own musings, Owein answered without the calculation he usually employed
whenever Colin inquired after a detail surrounding the curse.

“’Tis
Saraid. My own lovely rose. It’s what I called her.”

“I
believe it’s time you filled me in on all you know of the curse, not just those
details you’ve decided will benefit you in the telling.”

When
his gaze flew to Colin’s, the gleam of hope in Owein’s eyes was painful to
witness. Colin steeled himself against the surge of sympathy. Owein’s frequent
visitations had been a life-long nuisance. He didn’t care to be reminded that
the fairie king’s actions were born of desperation.

“You
mean to help, then?” Owein questioned. “You’ll do your duty, accept the girl as
your mate, and break the curse?”

“I’ll
break the curse. As to doing my duty, and my choice of mate, those are my
concerns.”

“But
the girl—”

“I
mean it, Owein,” Colin interrupted. “I’ll see the curse broken, but it’ll be
done my way. As for Keely and me, we’ll do what needs doing without your
interference. I want your word there will be no more popping in whenever you
like. If the time comes I decide your assistance is needed, I’ll invite you
myself. Until then, I won’t be looking over my shoulder to see if we’ve an
audience. It’s privacy you’ll be giving us or you’ll find yourself right back
where you’ve been for three hundred years—unable to break the curse on your
own.”

Owein
looked about to make an argument, but after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

“Well,
then. Let’s go.” Colin headed for the door.

“Where?”
Owein demanded, jumping to his feet to follow.

“To
Dunhaven’s Door.”

Chapter
Seven

“If
it isn’t Morna’s pride and joy,” Sean Connelly called out the moment Keely
stepped inside Connelly’s Pub.

She
grinned, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the windowless taproom
after the bright sunshine outside. The pub looked exactly as it had the last
time she’d been there, when she’d come in with Gran for “the best meal in the
county.” Several of the time-scarred, round tables held customers, lifting a
pint or savoring the day’s lunch special, while Irish rock played quietly in
the background.

Behind
the bar, Sean beamed his crooked grin. The owner of the only pub in town had
been one of her favorite citizens that summer she’d spent with Gran. A mountain
of a man, Gran had claimed the only thing bigger than Sean’s heart were his
size fifteen feet.

Blond,
brawny, and bold, he was a friend to just about everyone in Dunhaven, and had
taken pity on an odd, gawky teenager, who’d had her head in the clouds more
often than not. She’d loved him from the first time he’d struck up a
conversation with her, asking about the notebook of stories she’d carried with
her and then showing true interest in her shy answer.

Sean
had been the one who called to offer the town’s condolences upon Morna’s death.
To her surprise, he’d then put Nora Murphy on the line to offer her regrets.
Keely had fumbled for words, mortified at what the Irishwoman must think of her
after what she’d witnessed the night in the gazebo.

“None
of that, young lady,” Nora had said kindly. “If not for that night, I wouldn’t
have turned my eye on Sean, and we wouldn’t be planning our wedding for next
week. I wanted to thank you, personally.”

Keely
hadn’t known what to say to that, and had laughed, hearing Sean’s muffled demand,
“What night?”

“Never
you mind,” Nora had told him. “It’s a woman thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

In
the decade since, Nora and Sean had kept her abreast of the goings on in
Dunhaven with frequent phone calls. She counted the big publican and his sultry,
redheaded wife among her few friends.

Keely
crossed the worn wooden floor to take an open stool at the bar and received a
wink from Sean as he worked the tap, building a Guinness for the old-timer
three stools away. He set the glass in front of the man, moved down to reach
across the bar, and gave Keely’s hands a squeeze.

“If
I’d known you’d be turning yourself into such a beauty, Keely O’Brian, I’d have
done a better job of fighting off the likes of Nora Murphy and waited for you.”

A
devilish gleam lit his laughing, green eyes as the door to the kitchen swung
open, and Nora herself stepped out. Hefting a tray full of steaming bowls, her
eyes widened in surprised welcome, and she changed direction to head Keely’s
way.

“I
like that, you big clod,” she tossed Sean’s way. “If memory serves, it wasn’t
me
doing the chasing.”

Sean
let go of Keely’s hands and straightened. He winked at his wife.

Nora
smiled, pausing beside the stool to lean close and buss Keely’s cheek with her
own. “Pay the man no mind, Keely. He fancies himself a silver tongue, he does.
It’s about time you came back to stay, and welcome to you.”

Keely
smiled in return. “It’s good to see you again, Nora. You haven’t changed a
bit.”

Nora
shrugged. “I’ve added a few pounds here and there. Three babies, one after the
other, will do that for a woman.”

“You
haven’t gained an ounce since the day you first set your sights on me, wife,
and well you know it,” Sean said with a lecherous smile for the mother of his
children.

“Mind
the tap, husband,” Nora scolded, but her eyes twinkled with warmth. “And leave
the flirting to the single lads.” With a wink to Keely she was off to deliver
the order she carried to the table full of tourists at the back of the room.

“What
can I get you?” Sean asked, swiping at the surface of the bar with a clean
towel.