The Becoming Trilogy Box Set (Books 1-3) (76 page)

She’d got into Veterinary
college and was almost qualified. Ash half listened. She really was gorgeous,
in a ‘town and country’ way. She wore it well, auburn hair wind-tousled, a
spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, dark green eyes framed by
thick lashes.

‘I’ll have to look you up
when I come down to Dublin,’ Sadhbh finished, smiling. Ash didn’t growl, but
she really wanted to.
Points for restraint, right?
Of course, Connal
would
know beautiful women.

Connal’s fingers wrapped in
her hair, smoothing down the tension in her spine with a wide palm. She hadn’t
even realised she’d gone rigid and willed the muscles to unclench under his
stroking as he leaned in, speaking softly so only she could hear. ‘I’ve known
her since she wore pigtails and braces.’ Simple words, and yet she knew he was
reassuring her. He still saw Sadhbh as a little girl. That was good. But why
the hell were they here?

Maybe her tension had been
palpable because she looked up to find the other girl watching her strangely.
Ash tried a smile. It came off more as a baring of teeth.

That was all it took to get
them moving.

Sadhbh’s eyes darted away to
smile up at Connal and Ash struggled not to roll hers.

‘Are you here to see Mammy?’
she asked. ‘She’ll be round back, in the kennels.’ Sadhbh waved in the
direction of one of the buildings and Connal ruffled her auburn hair as he
laced his fingers through Ash’s and led them away. She expected the other girl
to follow along, chattering, but she looked back and Sadhbh was over the fence
and getting a grip on the mane of a palomino. Huh. Guess this was something
they did alone.

That was more than fine with
her.

The walk around the
whitewashed, thatched farmhouse didn’t take long and Ash found herself
fascinated with the quaintness of it all. It was adorable. Smoke curled from
the chimney, drifting up to join the clouds. Connal hadn’t brought her there to
admire the scenery though. He was leading her to the outbuildings behind it,
where the paving stones disappeared into mud and dust. No wonder he insisted on
the boots, her suede shoes would have been destroyed.

Out of a shiny metal door,
scuffed with dirt, another woman came, oblivious to them. She was older and
flame haired, her round, careworn face clean of makeup, framed by mad curls
that couldn’t be contained. She pushed them back as she hefted a black plastic
bucket off the floor. Connal stepped forwards, making the silver wolfhound at
her feet growl out a warning. Little more than a pup, the dog was all oversized
paws and gangly limbs. Ash smiled at its threats even as the woman scolded it.

‘Maura. Good to see you,’
Connal called out as they approached.

Her head snapped up, her face
falling into a familiar lax surprise. Sadhbh had worn the exact same
expression. ‘Connal Savage? Holy mother of God, is that you? What happened to
your hair?’ Her accent was so strong, Ash could have touched it.

‘Ah, felt like a change, you
know?’ He shrugged and gave her a half-smile, scruffing a hand through the
short spikes, but Maura’s eyes narrowed on him, like she really didn’t ‘know’
at all.

‘Not the only change, I’d
say.’ The woman’s curious gaze heated Ash’s cheeks. ‘Aren’t you going to
introduce me to your -’

Connal cut her off at the
pass. ‘Maura Flannery,’ he said, ‘this is Ashling DeMorgan.’

The change in Maura’s
expression at the mention of the DeMorgan name was so fleeting that Ash
wondered if she’d imagined it. Wiping a mucky hand down her dungarees, the
woman produced a business card from the pocket, offering it to Ash in lieu of a
handshake.

‘My daughter had them made
up,’ she said, almost apologetically.

‘Ash, this is Maura, the only
wolfhound breeder worth their salt in all the four provinces of Ireland.’

The picture and print on the
business card confirmed what Connal was telling her.

‘Would you listen to that
silver-tongued flattery?’ the woman scoffed, offering Ash a cool smile. ‘I hope
you know what you’re in for with this one, lass.’

Despite the humour, there was
an unmistakable note of warning in the woman’s tone.

Maura held Ash’s gaze for an
uncomfortably long moment before turning her attention back to Connal. ‘You’re
here for a pup, I take it?’

Ash’s eyes widened.
That’s
why they were here? Connal’s fingers squeezed around her own and she
loosened the vise hand-hold she’d locked him in.

‘We are,’ he said.

‘How’d that last one do for
you?’ She looked right at Ash then. ‘That dog was a little wild for my liking,’
she said. ‘I had a nice, obedient bitch all trained up, but our Connal here has
a bit of a soft spot for the wilful ones.’

Chagrin crawled like a rash
up Ash’s throat at the mention of Setty, and the obvious innuendo in this
stranger’s words. No doubt the ‘obedient bitch’ she had in mind for him came
with wild auburn hair and an ass that looked just perky in jodhpurs.

Once again, Connal came to
her rescue. ‘He was a fine beast, Maura. Loyal, and obedient to the last.’

Maura blessed herself and
they all fell quiet. Remembering Setty put a lump in Ash’s throat that she was
hard pressed to swallow.

Maura’s loud sigh broke the
silence. ‘Ah well. It won’t do to dwell on what’s past. I’ve been preparing,
since you went … missing. My brood bitch recently whelped a fine, healthy
litter. Come back to me in a few weeks and I’ll have a hound trained up for
your particular needs.’

Connal’s lips pulled down.
‘No, that won’t do, Maura. I need something now.’

‘I cannot give you what I
don’t have,’ she said.

‘What about this girl at your
heels?’ Connal hunkered down and carefully approached the young dog. ‘She looks
a good age for training.’

‘That one would be no use to
you, Connal. She’s got progressive retinal atrophy. The poor creature's already
night-blind. The vet’ll be round later on today to put her down.'

Ash jerked, horrified that
Maura could do that to one of her own pups. Euthanasia was kind of a touchy
subject, ever since Fite had tried to put her down.

The redhead caught her
disapproving look. 'I breed working dogs, Miss DeMorgan. There's no room for
sentimentality in this business,’ she said. ‘A blind dog is of no value to me.'

'I'll take her,' Connal said.

Ash could have kissed him.
She would. Later.

Maura’s look silently called
him a fool. It made Ash bristle. Maura shrugged. 'Have her, so. I won't even
charge you. She's not worth what I'll save on the vet's bill.'

She unclipped the leash and
the dog bared small, sharp teeth at Connal. Concern swarmed past Ash’s
irritation at the dog breeder. Wolfhound saliva was poisonous to Fomorian
wolves. The one Setty bit had been utterly paralysed when she’d watched it suffer
the horrifying effects of the waning moon.

Connal seemed to share none
of her concern. Binding his hands thickly in the worn tee shirts he took from
the rucksack, he grinned up at her. ‘These will get her familiar with both of
our scents, so the dog no longer sees us as the enemy.’

Ash could feel the woman's
curious eyes on her.

Connal crouched forwards and
playfully ruffled the pup’s fur, inciting a play of dominance between man and
hound.

In spite of his reassurances,
every growl and snap of teeth made Ash’s heart skip a beat.

As she watched, Maura
appeared at her shoulder. 'You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats
an animal,’ she said. ‘Come along, now. Let’s leave those two to get
acquainted, and I'll wet the tea.'

Ash reluctantly followed
Maura into the cosy farmhouse kitchen. Her cheeks windburned from the cold, she
took a seat at the polished wood table while Maura put the kettle on the range.

'So. How long have you known
our Connal?' she asked.

'A few weeks,' Ash replied.
Long enough to bury a mythical creature, to fall hopelessly in love and come
close to death and all the rest … ‘I might ask the same of you?’ she countered.

‘I've known that boy since I
was at my mammy's teat,’ Maura said, ‘but never once has he darkened this doorstep
with a woman in tow.’

Ash was surprised. 'Then you
know-'

'That Connal hasn't aged a
day since I first set eyes on him? The Flannery family have been hound-breeders
to the Guardian for generations.’

'The Guardian?' Ash asked.
What did this woman know?

'The protector who dwells
beneath the city of Dublin.'

Ash’s brows flew up into her
hairline. She tried to protest but her mouth worked soundlessly.

'Don't worry, Dear. Connal
Savage's secret will go to the grave with the Flannery name.’

‘Are you human?’ Ash asked
tentatively.

‘Very much so, and I have
every intention of remaining that way. Long before there was ever a guardian,
my ancestors bred hounds against the curse of the black lake.' Maura smiled and
it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘So,’ she said, ‘you two are an item?’

Ash nodded. Not how she would
classify them, but it would do as an explanation.

‘I wish I could say you were
good for him, but he looks shocking rough.’ Maura placed a mug of sweet, milky
tea in front of her and sat down. ‘There were whisperings he was dead,’ she
added quietly.

‘Connal has been through a
lot,’ Ash tried to ignore the accusation in the woman’s tone and keep the growl
from her voice, ‘but he’s going to be okay.’ They both would be, eventually.

Maura looked up from the rim
of her mug. ‘I hope you’re right,’ she said, ‘physical scars heal. It’s the
psychological wounds that fester.’

God, did she know that. Ash
said nothing and took a sip of the tea. It was too sweet but it warmed her
stomach.

Shrewd eyes scrutinised her
from across the table. 'DeMorgan. Now there's a curious name. Are you one of
hers?'

Ash tilted her head. 'Hers?'

'The Morrígan, child.'

‘What do you know of the
Morrígan?’ Ash countered warily.

‘I know that, for centuries,
she, and Connal, and my hounds are all that has kept the young people of
Ireland safe from the scourge beneath the cursed waters of Dublin. And now you
come, bearing her name.’

‘The Morrígan is my
grandmother, but I'm -' What was she? It was hard enough to admit to herself,
let alone a stranger. Something made her answer with defensive honesty. 'Well,
I suppose I'm like Connal now.'

It was Maura's turn to look
surprised. ‘A DeMorgan
and
a wolf? So it's true? There were rumours
MacTire had found a mate at last, but it wouldn't be the first time loose-lips
lost the run of themselves ‘round here. And yet here you are, with the
Guardian, and not amongst the wolves, as was said. Tell me, DeMorgan-Wolf,
which side of this war does that put you on?’

I’m not MacTire’s mate
, is what Ash wanted to say. ‘I don’t have a side,’ is
what came out.

‘You must choose a side,
Dear.’

Maura reached across the
farmhouse table and gripped Ash's wrist, twisting it palm up, exposing the two
crescent-shaped marks. 'You’ve mated them both,' she said gravely.

'I love Connal.' Even as Ash
wrenched her hand from the woman’s surprisingly firm grip, her own honesty
surprised her. There was something about this simple country woman that
demanded frank answers. Then again, maybe Maura had spiked her tea. If the
thegn
could manipulate memories, she wasn't putting a truth serum past this Grand
Inquisitor disguised as a homely farmer’s wife.

'He loves you too, I suppose.
For all the good it will do him.'

Ash glared at her.

'How much do you know about
animal nature, Ash DeMorgan? Do you know that given the choice between physical
pain and emotional separation, that time and again, a puppy will walk an
electrified grid, and be shocked all the way, rather than suffer being
separated from the object of their attachment.'

Oh great, Ash thought. Now
she was stuck with a picture of the Lady Grand Inquisitor of Tea torturing
little puppies in the barn. She was speechless. There was no response that
qualified as polite conversation.

'Don't you think Connal has
suffered enough for you already?’ Maura persisted. ‘I need only look at him to
see it. Dark times are coming. The people of Ireland need their Guardian, and
they need him strong. If you really loved him, you'd stop whatever it is you're
doing to him. You can't let him continue to suffer. It's inhumane. Or have you
lost so much of your own humanity to be able to see?'

'Do you think I wouldn't take
the hurt on myself? If I knew how,’ Ash replied. ‘Your precious Morrígan, my
grandmother, has set him the task of killing his own brother.'

‘No doubt Connal is the only
one capable of killing that monster.’

‘Mac is no monster,’ Ash
protested.