The Stag Lord (10 page)

“I'll pass for now, but I wouldn't say no to another beer. Let me see my son to bed first.” Pausing to exchange pleasantries in Gaelic with an older Knight, Bann finally made it to the guest room. He paused when he heard Shay's voice coming from the bathroom, a question in her tone. Before Bann could join them, Cor spoke.

“No, I don't know what Dad did with it. I haven't seen it for a long time.” A hiss of pain. “Ow!”

“I know it stings. It'll stop in a minute.” A silence. “Well, maybe we can get him another torc.”

“Yeah. He's going to need one now that he's going to be a Knight again.” Another pause. “I'm really glad we're staying here. It's pretty cool having all those other Knights around.”

“Like having your own bodyguards,” Shay joked.

“Yeah, but not for me. For my dad.” Cor spoke in a matter-of-fact manner. “I want them to help me guard Dad and keep
him
safe.”

A charged silence. “I think they can guard both of you,” Shay said in a quiet tone.

“I guess. But Dad comes first.”

Bann placed a hand on the corridor wall to steady himself.
Oh, Cor
.

“I think your father would see it the other way. That it's
his
job to take care of
you
.”

Unable to stand the weight from his guilt, Bann stepped into the bathroom. Cor was pulling his T-shirt down while Shay screwed the lid back on a small jar of potion. They both looked up.

“Did you hear?” Shay said softly, placing the tonic back in the medicine cabinet.

“I did.” He gazed at his son, who was looking at everywhere but at his father.

“You two need to talk.” She slipped around him and disappeared.

Why didn't I listen?
Bann thought.
All those times he asked—
begged me—
to find our people, and I never once asked him why? No, I was too busy being angry, too filled with grief, to realize what our isolation was costing him. Costing him any sense of security. He's already lost one parent to that monster—he doesn't want to lose another. Hell, he's smart enough to know that if anything should happen to me, he would be all alone in this world
.

“Am I in trouble?” The boy plucked at a loose thread on his shirt, unraveling the hem.

Bann shook his head. “Cor,” he began, then stopped at the croak he heard. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Cor. I am sorry, lad.”

Cor blinked. “Sorry for what?”

“For not asking
why
you wanted to be with other Tuatha Dé Danaan.”

“Oh.”

“But now that I
do
know…” Bann laid his hands on Cor's shoulders and bent over to press his forehead against his son's in their special
just us
gesture. His throat tightened when Cor stood on tiptoes to press back, fingers wrapped around his father's wrists, holding on for sweet life. “We'll remain here in High Springs for as long as you wish.”

“Really? Like forever? You promise?”

“Knight's honor.”

Lingering outside the bathroom, Shay's heart melted at the note of hope and joy in Cor's voice. She tiptoed away.
That was eavesdropping
, her conscience pointed out.
My house, my rules
, she answered it back as she joined the throng in her living room.

“Rory. What the hell?” She smacked the back of her cousin's head, then pointed to the floor. “This isn't a pub.”

“Sorry.” He scooped up the chips he had spilled earlier, looked around for a trash can, then shrugged and tossed them in his mouth.

“Dude. Really?” Shaking her head, she made her way to the kitchen for another beer, having lost the drink Bann had brought her. Bending over the cooler stowed in the corner, she fished through the melting ice, smiling to herself as she remembered his solicitous behavior all evening. At first, she'd thought he was doing the whole Knight-damsel thing, until she realized he was simply being himself.
Gotta love guys with old-fashioned manners
.

A voice spoke behind her. “Maybe I should start running in the park, too. Who knew that's where all the hot guys hang out?”

Shay straightened. A woman, her dark auburn hair cascading over her shoulders to emphasize her curves, stood next to her, leaning against the counter with a shot glass in one hand. A torc around her neck proclaimed her a Knight of the Tuatha Dé Danaan.

“What do you mean, Laney?” Shay struggled to be polite to her second—or was it third—cousin. The cousin who always made her feel like such a clunker. She found herself wishing she had done more with her hair than just the standard ponytail. Maybe even a bit more makeup than just the touch of mascara and lip gloss.

“Well, isn't that where you found
that one
?” Laney nodded toward the hallway. She took a sip of her drink, then sighed. The whiskey on her breath assaulted Shay's nose. “I don't know what's more smoking, his face or his body. Even his name is sexy. Bannerman Boru.” She rolled the syllables along her lips as if tasting the man.

“Laney!”

“By the Goddess, it's nice to meet a real man. The rugged type, you know? Not like all these male-model guys with their bad-boy attitudes you see in movies. You know what I mean?” She took another sip. “And that whole father thing he's got going?” She fanned herself as if overheating from just thinking it. “Gets me every time.”

Yeah, me, too
, Shay thought. She opened her Fat Tire and took a drink.

Laney leaned closer. “Have you guys slept together yet?”

Beer spewed out of Shay's mouth. Wiping her chin, she choked out an answer. “What? No!”

“Why?”

“Well, for one, he's not my type,” Shay lied.

“What is your type? Ugly guys with no depth or maturity?”

“Two, his son is under my care. I'm a Healer.” Shay tapped the tattoo under her shirt. “Remember?”

“So?”

“So, besides the fact I don't go bouncing the bedsprings with every strange guy—”

“You don't have
bounce
with
any
guys.”

What a bitch
. “Thanks for pointing out my dating slump. And three—”

“Which is probably why you work all the time. To hide your feelings of inadequacy, right?”

“—and three!” Shay's voice rose. “I just met the guy yesterday, so there's no way I'm having sex with Bannerman Boru!”

Those nearest to the kitchen turned to stare at her. Which caused the rest of the room to follow. In less than two seconds, bemused silence vied with the Dropkick Murphys booming from the stereo.
Oh, please
, Shay thought.
Please don't let him have heard that
. At that moment, her entire clan swiveled their heads in unison toward Bann standing on the other side of the room. Confusion and something else colored his face.
Aw, crap
.

“Your thoughts on the matter, Boru?” Hugh Doyle said with an exaggerated wave.

Shay wondered if it was possible to burst into flame from blushing so hard. Even her ears burned. She waited, knowing there was nothing he could say to salvage the situation.

“Why, I'm not certain.” Bann locked gazes with Shay. For some reason, she couldn't look away. “I believe I've been insulted.” The crowd laughed. He waited for it to die down before continuing. “A jest, only,” he said with a trace of a smile. “No, Shay Doyle has shown me and mine nothing but hospitality and the graciousness due a guest—a tradition we Celts have always held in high regard. For that, I thank her.”

A shout went up. “Well spoken, Bannerman Boru,” Hugh boomed above the roar. “A true gentleman you are.”

A true Knight he is
, Shay thought. She returned Bann's nod with a weak smile, grateful when Hugh slapped him on the back, commanding his attention. Laney strolled over to join them.

“Well, that was awkward,” said an amused voice. Shay turned.

Another woman, with chin-length silky brown hair and a face and body that still made men look twice, if not three times, stood nearby. Half a head shorter than Shay, she held herself straight and true, the warrior in her stance. “Of course, my husband didn't help matters any. Hugh does enjoy stirring the pot.”

“True that.” Shay smiled at her aunt. They moved over to a vacant corner of the kitchen as the general conversation picked up again. Holding the beer bottle to her flushed cheek, she peeked past her aunt's shoulder at Bann talking with Hugh and Laney. Her cousin was leaning in to catch Bann's comment, curling a lock of her admittedly stunning hair around one finger while pressing her breast against his arm in an innocent manner that fooled no one. Shay secretly cheered when Bann, without missing a beat of the conversation, shifted his weight, putting a few inches between himself and the female Knight.

Her aunt looked back as well. “I have to say, I agree with Fast Laney.” She lifted an eyebrow in agreement when Shay snickered at the old family nickname. “Bannerman Boru is a fine-looking man.”

“Why, Annwen Doyle!”

“What? I enjoy a handsome face as well as the next woman. And Boru is a refreshing sight, all tall, dark, and oo-la-la, after our redheaded lot.”

“You're as bad as Laney.”

“Yes, but I hide it better.”

Shay laughed and leaned against the counter, enjoying the company of her favorite aunt, who insisted on being called Ann. “What would Hugh say?”

Ann waved her hand in dismissal. “He would simply tease me. Wouldn't you, Hugh Doyle?” she called.

“Yes, darlin', whatever you said.” Hugh waved back. For a moment, they gazed across the room at each other, exchanging a look that Shay swore raised the temperature in her house by about twenty degrees. He blew her a kiss, then returned to his conversation.

Shay sighed. “What's your secret? You and Hugh?”

“To our marriage, you mean?” Ann shrugged. “It's quite simple, actually. When I was about your age, I realized I didn't want a spouse
just
for the passion or the love or as protector and provider. To be sure, I wanted all those things, don't get me wrong, but I knew that I also wanted something more.”

“Which was what?”

“I wanted a
friend
. One who would want me to stand with him, on the field of battle, or in mundane trials of daily life.” She smiled across the room at her husband. As if hearing his name, Hugh met her eyes and smiled back. “Find
that
in a man, Shay, and you'll be in love for the rest of your life.”

Shay shrugged. “I'd just be happy finding a guy who doesn't resent my career choice and how much time it takes up.”

“You mean Quinn Tully?” When Shay nodded, Ann continued. “
I told you so
would be kind of petty, wouldn't it?”

“Yup.”

At that moment, the front door opened. Several men walked in, shaking the rain from their clothes. All of them were wore sheathed hunting knives at their hips. The leader, his dark hair cropped short with military precision, looked around until his gaze landed on Bann.

Shay's stomach lurched. “Oh, crap.”

9

B
ANN KNEW THE INSTANT
the new arrival's gaze settled on him. It was the same feeling as when he used to hunt. The feeling that something was hunting him
right back
. Out of habit, he reached down and loosened his knife in its sheath.

Draining the last of his beer, he casually shifted the bottle to his left hand—
always leave yer blade hand free, m'lad
—holding it by its long neck as he watched the man saunter over, his friends tight on his heels. Bann saw Rory start toward the newcomers with a scowl before another Knight snagged the young man's arm and began speaking in an undertone. He caught a few words of
don't need any trouble
and
let Hugh handle this
. The conversation, which had died down when the door opened, picked up again. Laney faded away with an excuse to use the bathroom.

“Tully.” Hugh greeted the man. “I didn't think you and your boyos would be joining us tonight.”

“We changed our minds, Hugh Doyle.” Tully looked Bann up and down “So, you're Bannerman Boru.” He held out his hand, his smile never reaching his blue eyes. “Weston Tully.”

Clasping the man's forearm, Bann kept his face neutral as they engaged in the tiresome game of who-can-squeeze-harder-and-leave-a-bruise. Both men, about the same height and build, declared it a draw.

Dropping his hand, Tully looked past him. “Hello, Shay,” he said when the Healer joined them.

“
Fáilte
.” She offered the traditional greeting with forced civility. “Care for a beer?”

“Later, thank you.”

“Hey, Shay.” One of the younger Knights, his dark blond hair cropped in imitation of Tully's, nodded at the Healer. “Good to see you again.” His eyes lingered on her body in a way that made Bann want to punch him. Or break the bottle still in his hand over the younger Knight's head. Or both—he wasn't particular.