Love's Battle (True Blue Trilogy) (3 page)

As the heightened flames receded, Cinaed’s resolve strengthened. He longed for Riona to be his wife, but she was right, she could not be Scotland’s queen.

The matter had been decided years before and could not be undone. The disastrous result for breaking the covenant would call for death, his own as well as those whose lives he protected with his every breath. He would not allow Riona’s innocent blood to stain the ground so that he could fulfill his own desires. As king it was his responsibility to make sure his people were safe, no matter how much pain he might suffer in turn.

There by the light of the fire their lips met again, their time together drawing close to an end as dawn approached.

Tenderly Cinaed withdrew the plaid, woven in the colors of his clan, stripes of green, gray, and brown from Riona’s shoulders. Baring her untouched body before him, he ran his leathered hand along the curve of her jaw. Gently he fingered the silky strands of her golden hair. Drawing his hand down to her shoulder he could feel her heart beating rapidly under his palm.

“Just as your heart beats for me, so does mine for you. Until the day I cease to breathe and every day after, you will always be mine.” Cinaed promised as there on the wool covered grass, surrounded by the curtain of fire, they loved for the first and last time.

In the dying blush of flameless embers Riona held him close. Treasuring their remaining minutes together she imagined what their life could have been like had things been different.

As the sun began its climbing ascent turning the deep purple sky to a painting of lavenders and oranges, Cinaed recounted word for word the poignant words of Riona’s promise in her ear.

“I leave you most unwilling cushla. She will have my respect, but you will always have my heart. Dinna forget that.”

“Never.”

Sharing one final kiss Cinaed was gone, taking with him Riona’s heart and what remained of her very soul.

Visitor

In his absence Riona could feel the hot sting of tears she’d held a bay for so long, slowly rolling down her face.

The war was brutal as she fought to hold in all the pain she felt inside. Her small body shaking with the effort it took to contain the sobs she didn’t want Cinaed to hear as her left her.

When she was sure he was far enough away, when she could no longer hold back the pain; her lips bleeding from the struggle it took to hold all the suffering inside Riona fell to her knees, threw back her head, and let everything she felt inside come to the surface. The pain was a deep seated, searing hot agony that fair tore her body in two. A cleaving so intense Riona could not deny a large part of herself had died.

The guttural screams of her torment echoed across the hills, down through the valley below to where the serfs rising with the new sun crossed themselves, begging God for His protection against what surely had to be a demon. It was the only thing capable of producing such unholy hair-raising screams of suffering.

Locked inside their huts, huddled close, none drew an easy breath until the sounds of agony eventually faded into melancholy whimpers and then finally into spine chilling silence.

Spent in grief, her body curled in on itself, Riona continued to lay inside the dormant ring of rock and ash.

“My sweet child, why do you cry so?”

Jolted by the soft voice Riona jumped to her feet, ready to confront the intruder.

What she saw dried her tears instantly, causing any words she might have said to clog in her throat.

Standing before her was a beautiful matron. Ethereal, she was dressed in a gown of dove gray. With hair so blonde it could’ve been mistaken for white hanging down to her knees. Thoughtful, she casually pulled a silver comb through a small section of tresses that draped over her breast over and over. Against her pale skin, black eyes rimmed with a glowing red looked as if she too had been crying.

Too numb to be truly afraid Riona hurriedly wiped the tears from her face. “You are, bean-shidh, banshee! Do you bring with you death, Spirit? I dinna fear it, for you are too late. My heart already lies dead in my chest. ‘Tis only a matter of time until my body follows. I only await the final blow to finish the job.”

“I dinna bring death nor its message. Ma name is Avelbane. As guardians to the mac Alpins I mourn the loss of family with those who remain.”

“I am no mac Alpin. Why are you here?”

“You are in the mac Alpin’s heart and therefore mine. The pain of your loss has called to me. Faery is my nature, but I was once mortal and remember fondly my first love. I have come to grant your pledge for your selflessness has served ye well. What you and I have been denied shall at last be fulfilled.”

Stepping forward Avelbane ceased her ministrations long enough to brush the head of the silver comb across Riona’s belly.

“Through you the first of the king’s children shall be born and all that you have asked for will be granted. Nurture well the lives that grow inside you fair Riona.”

Choosing another section of hair, the ghostly woman went back to her constant primping, ready to take her leave.

“Wait,” Riona called out, not wanting to be let alone again quiet so soon. “Will I see you again?”

The banshee nodded. “I shall be there to attend the births and will return again to bring the children comfort when ye pass. Fare well dear Riona for ye have been blessed.”

And with that the once human wraith took the shape of a white crow and flew away.

Birth

Cinaed became king that night, marrying the woman chosen as Scotland’s first queen.

In the many days following their separation Riona indeed nurtured the seeds that Cinaed had planted inside her. Growing large and round with life, her slender frame was dominated by her huge belly. Nine months to the hour, during the peak of the winter solstice- the longest night of the year when dark triumphs over the light- Riona delivered the first of the king’s children at a glen hidden deep in the forest.

The small hut in which she and Grandmother lived echoed with her Riona’s pain of labor.

Her once smooth and unblemished body, now marred by purple lines where it had stretched and reformed to hold the lives inside her, clenched and relaxed sporadically with contractions as she struggled to bring new life into the world. The unfathomable ache of child bearing no match for the relentless pain she continued to experience daily as she lived through the absence of her beloved Cinaed.

“Your time grows near,” The mid-wife predicted, casting an uneasy glance at the pale blonde girl standing at Riona’s bedside alternately wiping a cool cloth across Riona’s damp brow and running a silver comb through her hair. “The young girl should leave till ‘tis done. No use scaring her before she weds.” Truth be told, the midwife was the one who was scared. The lasses red eyes unnerved her.

“No, she stays.” Riona panted as another contraction racked her body.

“Very well.” The mid-wife gave in. Her orders came from the king and she had already been handsomely paid for her service. If her patient wanted the strange girl at her side, so be it.

Panting through the pain Riona welcomed the youngest of her three daughters on a final blood curdling scream.

Upon her arrival the mid-wife crossed herself, an effort to ward off evil as she called for heavenly protection. One baby was a gift, two babies were rare, three were unheard of.

Blind to the mid-wife’s actions Riona smiled through her exhaustion, the pains of labor already forgotten, to press the first of many kisses upon the small dark heads laying in her arms.

“Ma Creideamah, ma Dochas, ma Gra. My Faith, my Hope, my Love.” She breathed, bestowing upon each the name they would carry with them from this life forth. They were all she had left of their father.

Tears blurred Riona’s eyes with the bittersweet taste of the moment. For all the joy the birth of her daughters had brought her Riona’s heart was still incomplete, as it would remain for the rest of her life.

“Oh Cinaed, I love you, I love you.” Riona cried, her heart breaking all over again.

Recognizing the eerie cry, the mid-wife hurried through her tasks. The moans of grief chilling her blood the same as it had less than a years past.

Brushing a tear from her own eye, she could not help but be affected by the lingering love the maid still felt for their king.

By sunset of the next night word of the babies arrival had spread through the Highlands like wildfire. From the mid-wife to her sister, from the sister to her husband, from the husband to his brother, to his cousin and his wife, to their neighbor, and so on until it found its way to the king’s ear. Who it is said that very night in front of hall full of guests allowed a trio of tears to fall unheeded; before drinking himself into stupor in an act of self-congratulations, lifting each of his brimming cups in an unspoken toast to his daughters and the woman who in his heart would always be queen.

Beginnings

Throughout the years our mother would come to find a small measure of peace as day by day she began to see the young warrior king in our matching faces.

We had each been given our father’s raven hair, marred only by a slash of white along our forelocks where Avelbane had run her silver comb across Riona’s belly. It was a small reminder of the magic that blessed us with an unusual gift. Our delicate cheek bones spoke volumes of the royal blood running through our veins.

From Riona we looked out on the world with her purple eyes, our bodies growing slim and straight as we aged. It was a wonderful combination of the two people whose love had created us.

At Riona’s side we learned of our heritage, of the gift that we had been given, and what the future held for us. We learned the art of healing and were taught the gift of music.

Now as we stand at the foot of a statue marking the resting place of our first bodies we recite a Gaelic prayer; exalting the lives that have passed and asking for blessings in those still to come. Turning the lock of the now hollowed box we return a piece of history back to its resting place to await our second pilgrimage. Shovel by shovel we rebury our secrets; our clandestine journey hidden from the world.

We will return again as the end of this life draws near, the strongboxes tucked under our arms full of new additions from this life.

I’ve been known through the centuries by many names- Gra, Caresse, Zofia, Liubov, Minna. In this life I’m known as Love Howard and this is the story of my battle for true love.

“It is difficult to know at what moment love begins;

It is less difficult to know when it has begun.”

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Chapter 1

Here Comes the Bride

Love

I was going to be late - I just knew it, and for a day that needed to run like clockwork, everything was going wrong!

First thing this morning my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Perceval had knocked on my door asking for help in the search for her lost teeth. A common enough occurrence, it seemed the woman lost her false teeth at least twice a week; more as an excuse to have someone to visit with than anything. Helping her is something I am more than willing to do, just not today when there is so much that needs to be done.

Shimming into my dress and shoes I dashed out the door, barely remembering to grab my briefcase before the door locked behind me.

Climbing into my car I made a mental note to take Mrs. Perceval to lunch sometime during the week. She would really enjoy the new tea shop that had opened down the street. Making it a girl’s day sounded good.

Following a frenzied drive, in which I barely made it to work on time, the day had been progressing fairly well until it hit a brick wall. In my rush I’d forgotten to bring the extra change of clothes I would need for the wedding I was set to make an appearance at this evening.

Unfortunately that left me spending my lunch break shopping for a new outfit instead of eating. Really, who can complain about shopping? I was just sorry I hadn’t thought to grab a hot dog or a pretzel somewhere along the way.

Wardrobe malfunction taken care of everything seemed to be falling back into place. Thinking the worst was over I was ready to breathe a deep sigh of relief, until I was caught in the midst of a small traffic jam due to a minor fender bender on BLW-I695 where I sat for no less than thirty minutes due to onlookers delay!

Irritated, my premature sigh turned into a frustrated growl. How anyone could find interest in a smashed hunk of metal absent of bloodshed was beyond me. Didn’t these drivers know people had places to go and other people to see? Obviously not.

And last but not least, for we all know disasters don’t just happen in three’s, it’s a whole cluster fuzz that hits all at once, there was the issue of the flat tire…the one I’m currently looking at on my red Alfa Romeo 8C Spider, halting any progress I might have made less than five miles from the church.

Italian sports care are not supposed to get flat tires!

I might look calm on the outside, but inside I’m fuming; my temper no match for the heat wave currently attacking Ellicott City and the neighboring municipalities in the state of Maryland.

The rare humidity had my new dress clinging to my body in an uncomfortable fashion, making me glad I had the fore thought to carry an extra supply of deodorant in my purse for those times when a girl felt just a little funky.

Under the boiling rays of the summer sun I looked down at the shredded mass of rubber, beginning to feel just as deflated and lifeless. Mentally cursing my luck, I pondered the sanity of the person who had decide to get married in the month of August and on a Friday evening during the height of rush hour traffic. No good could come of it.

The events of the day slowly taking its toll, I stomped my new beaded sandals on the burning asphalt.

Looking to the heavens I begged for just a little bit of help. “Look, I’m trying to do what you want me to do,” I seethed, hungry and sweaty. “It wouldn’t hurt to give me a little bit of a break!”

When no resounding answer was forth coming I stomped my foot once again and resigned myself to changing the massacred tire. It would ruin my pretty turquoise maxi dress with its matching chunky coral necklace and earrings. But, I reminded myself, true love was more important than grease and oil stains any day.