Unholy Blue (15 page)

Before Shay could answer, Bann spoke, his face neutral. “Why, it depends on the success of the raiding season, miss. I was hoping to pay cash. But, sadly, these last few years have been lean, what with so many people locking up their gold and cattle and other valuables, don't you know.”

“The r-raiding season?” Her eyes widened as she glanced again at Bann's knife.

“Ignore him,” Shay said, rolling her eyes.

“Listen, I have the preliminary paperwork in my car. Let me get it. This is a very desirable property and you'll want to bid on it right away.” She scurried away, her high heels tip-tapping on the wooden treads, and leaving Bann and Shay standing in the middle of the empty master bedroom.

“Keen little thing, she is,” Bann said.

As Shay disappeared into the master bath for a second look, Bann wandered over to the window and gazed at the back yard. Down the hall, Cor was still
dashing back and forth across the corridor from one bedroom to the next, his feet echoing in the empty house.
Good. He can burn off his energy
. The man listened with half an ear to his son chattering away about which room he wanted and when were they going to stop looking at the house and start celebrating his birthday.

Bann began to answer when a shadow moved in the trees beyond the fence. Keeping his eyes fixed on it, he reached for his weapon. A lone
Amandán
slunk out from behind a copse of pines and edged closer. Standing on tiptoe, it peered over the fence.

“What's wrong?” Shay appeared at his elbow. She crowded closer and looked out. “Oh, I see.” Balancing on one foot, she tugged up her jean leg and slid a slender dirk from her ankle sheath. “See? This is what happens when cities don't enforce zoning laws—neighborhoods go to hell.”

One-handed, Bann pushed the sash up. At the sound, the
Amandán
tensed, then looked up. Bann leaned out. “Bog-born.” He wagged his knife.

The beast promptly answered with a snarl of what the Knight could do with his blade. Twice. With the pointy end. Then, it eased back and faded into the shadows.

Aye, you best flee, you ugly bastard
. “I'll go reconnoiter—just to make sure there are not others about. Our future home or no, I will not let such boldness go unanswered.”

Shay started to argue, then waved him away. “Go get it out of your system.”

He hurried along the corridor. As he passed the farthest bedroom, he threw an order to Cor to stay upstairs, then jogged down the stairs, his work boots punishing the wooden treads. Reaching the main level, he hesitated, trying to recall which way the kitchen was. He passed through it to the adjoining family room. Pausing at the French doors, he peered through the panes, then unlocked one with a soft
snick
, eased it open, and slipped outside.

The early afternoon sun was still high enough to warm the air, but shadows cast by the towering hillside to the west were already creeping across the yard. Bann strode across the dried grass to the back wall, scanning the surrounding area with his eyes and ears. And even his nose.
Use every gift of the Goddess
, said the voice of his old master in his head
. Be the wolf on the hunt, the hound in pursuit
. Closing his eyes, he stretched out with his senses to the world around him.

Nothing.

He opened his eyes and studied the ground on the other side of the fence. A faint deer trail, decorated sporadically with hoof prints, ran north and south; even while his rational brain recognized the innocence of those particular tracks, his gut tightened at them. Shaking loose of the memories, he leaned over the five-foot high wall for a closer look.
The goblin hid its tracks too well. Most likely worried that I might follow
. “Ye're fortunate I haven't the time right now,” he muttered in Gaelic. “But someday…”

“B
ANN
? L
ET'S NOT MENTION
the house to anyone yet, especially my mother,” Shay said as they drove to Hugh's home the next day. “Not until we know we got it for sure.”

“Fine with me.” He glanced over at her sitting in the passenger seat of the truck cab. In the light of the early afternoon sun beaming through the windshield, her hair was the color of antique gold found in the tomb of a Bronze Age king. A leather jacket was folded across her lap. Wearing a low-cut silk blouse the color of County Clare cream tucked into black jeans that accentuated her slim hips, her fingernails tapped the haft of the slender dirk, which hung from her belt.

Nervous, I'll bet. Well, she is not the only one
. “You look beautiful, darlin'.”

“Thanks. And you look pretty handsome yourself.” She laid her hand on his thigh. He could feel its warmth through the denim. “I'm going to be buying a lot of men's shirts in every shade of blue from now on.”

“And here I was wishing for pink.”

She patted his leg. “You're not secure enough to wear that color, remember?”

“Ouch.”

Shay grinned. It faded after a moment. “I better warn you—if you think Hugh and Ann and my cousins are an outspoken bunch, wait until you meet my mother.”

“As you've mentioned before.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “Like mother, like daughter, eh?”

“And ouch back.”

Laughing softly, Bann turned into the graveled drive and proceeded through the iron gates, both adorned with a pair of Celtic knots overlaid with wild boars. They stood open wide in welcome. Pine trees dropped shadows across the long driveway in alternating bars of dark and light. Reaching the mansion, he pulled into the parking area already crowded with a dozen or more vehicles; he managed to squeeze the truck in between a minivan and a Volvo station wagon.

“Looks like Mom's here already,” Shay said, nodding at the wagon as she flipped down the visor. She checked her face, then opened the door with a sigh. “How much you wanna bet she's going to tell me I'm not wearing enough makeup and that this color washes me out?”

“I refuse to enter into a wager that puts me between my future wife and my future mother-by-law.”
Especially with a mother-by-law who has already voiced her trepidation of me marrying her only daughter. Voiced it very clearly, according to Shay
. He turned around to the back seat. “Cor?”

“Yes, sir?” Dressed in a clean T-shirt and a new hoodie—a birthday gift from James—in a shade of neon green that made Bann's eyes water every time he looked at it, but that Cor loved, the boy had his fingers
stuck through the slit of the travel crate belted into the seat next to him. Inside, Sam circled around and around.

“Do you remember what I told you?”

“I'm in charge of Sam and to keep him outside on his leash so he doesn't pee in Ann's house.”

“Aye. What else?”

“Say please and thank you, and don't call any grown-up by their first name unless they tell me I can. And eat all my supper, even if it's gross.”

“And remember what I told you about the ceremony?”

Cor swallowed and nodded. “Not to be scared. That it's just a little cut.”

“Good lad. And do not speak of the house we're buying.”

“It's a secret?”

“More like a surprise. Like the truck.”

The boy nodded, then added, “I'm good at keeping surprises, aren't I, Shay?”

“That you are, kiddo.”

All three climbed out. After freeing Sam and snapping the lead to his harness, the four of them headed toward the house, their feet crunching in the gravel. The muted roar of voices all talking at once drifted from the back yard, along with smoke carrying the aroma of cooking pork and burning wood.

A stab of homesickness shot through Bann. He recalled all the barbeques, usually after a successful hunt, which he had hosted in their backyard in Pennsylvania, in what seemed another life. He and his fellow Knights would stand around the grill, beer in hand, as they debated the best way to burn a steak. Their children
would race back and forth in a no-holds-barred game of tag, Cor the youngest by several years, but determined to keep up with the big kids. All the while, Elizabeth would sit in a lawn chair on the porch with a polite smile that was one twitch away from becoming a sneer, forcing their friends to come to her to say hello instead of mingling with the common folk.
I wonder if we could have made our marriage last?
Bann thought.
For Cor's sake, if nothing else
. He remembered just the other night, when he and Shay were having a nightcap by the fire, his future wife expressing her opinion on that very subject.

“While I don't want to bad-mouth Elizabeth, because, in spite of everything, she
was
Cor's mother and I will always respect her for that…” Shay had paused and stared into her whiskey, then continued. “From what you've told me, I think it would've been very unhealthy for Cor to grow up in that environment.”

“He hated it when we fought. And it seemed we were quarrelling more and more over less and less as the years went on.” Bann took a drink, the whiskey peat-smoke in his mouth.
Perhaps the Stag Lord has done me a good turn
. Self-loathing flooded him.
Ye gods. What kind of man am I to think such as that? And about my son's mother
.

Shame must have shown on his face, for Shay reached over and poked him, forcing him to look at her. “Whatever it is, let it go, Bannerman Boru. You're always finding ways to flail yourself with guilt. Enough already. I promise you, if you ever say or do anything that needs a swift kick in the ass, I'll make sure said ass gets kicked. Ye ken?”

“Aye, I ken.” Bann took her hand and kissed it, then pressed it to his cheek. “
Mo chara
.”

“Damn straight. Your best one, too, and don't forget it.”

Shaking loose from the memory, Bann slowed when the front door opened. A woman with chin length hair a shade lighter than Shay's, and wearing a stylish tunic over slim jeans, stepped out. She shaded her eyes with a motion Bann recognized instantly, then waved. “There you are!”

“Hey, Mom.” Shay hurried across the yard and bounded up the stairs.

The two women hugged, then stepped back, beaming at each other, the daughter a scant inch taller. Behind them, other members of the Doyle clan crowded out and fanned across the porch like some sort of redheaded delta. Bann noticed Hugh and Ann standing near Shay and her mother. Ann blew him a kiss while Hugh gave a nod and a wink. Off to one side, Rory leaned on the rail, his arm draped around a pretty woman's shoulder. He called a greeting that Bann didn't catch. Nearby, James bent his head to speak to a young Knight standing next to him, who was craning his neck to see.

“Dad?” Suddenly shy, Cor faded back behind his father. Even more shy, and intimidated by the crowd, Sam faded back behind Cor. “Is that Shay's mom?”

“Aye. That is Isobel Doyle.”

Taking the boy's hand, Bann continued toward the porch, surprised at the butterflies in his own stomach.
He must be feeling the same way
, he thought, noticing his son's death grip on his fingers. “'Tis all right,” he said softly, giving the small hand a squeeze before letting go and halting—
holding my position
—at the foot of the
steps. Isobel Doyle turned at a quiet word from Shay and stepped to the edge of the porch. The crowd quieted. The only sound was the murmur of voices from the back yard, which was filled with more of the clan.

The calm before combat.

For a long moment, Bann and Isobel stared at each other in silence. He studied the woman. The resemblance between mother and daughter was more in the bone and in the gestures. Isobel's coloring, fair-haired and with skin that was more tanned than freckled, spoke of a Viking ancestor or two far enough back in time for a trace of mortal blood to have little, if any, impact. Knowing that, according to tradition, she was to speak first, Bann waited. And waited.

A grudging respect lifted Bann's left eyebrow.
She's a clever one, she is. Controlling the pace of our first meeting. Establishing her authority. Even using the porch to tower over me. Holding the high ground
.

Finally, just when the silence was moving from awkward to downright mean-spirited, she spoke. “Bannerman Boru,” she said in Gaelic. “I welcome you.” She looked down at him with a polite smile that did not reach her eyes. “Your bloodline honors us.”

“The honor is mine,” he replied in Gaelic, “to meet the mother of my betrothed.”

“
Betrothed
, is it?” The woman switched to English. “Ah, yes. Shay said you two would follow some of the old customs in this.” She cocked her head, studying him. “A daring move. But, then, I have heard from Shay, and others,” she nodded at Ann and Hugh, “that you are a bold man.”

“In many ways.” With that, he slid his bronze knife—the one his old master had gifted him on the day he became a Knight—free of its sheath and marched up the steps. The thump of his boots seemed magnified in the rare silence of the clan. He halted when they were almost eye-to-eye; then, he sank to one knee on the riser just below her. Several people sucked in breaths. The young Knight next to James whispered a question and was answered with an
I'll tell you later
. Flipping the knife around so that he held it in his left hand by the blade, Bann presented the haft to her.

Isobel blinked in surprise. “Well, all right, then,” she said softly and took it. With the blade still in his hand and Isobel holding the haft, the knife joined them together in a weaponry clasp. For a split second, Bann thought he felt a slight buzz run through the bronze from the woman to himself and back again. Apparently, so did Isobel, for her eyes widened.

“I am Bannerman Boru, of Clan Boru,” he declared, using a tone that he normally reserved for a battlefield challenge.
And this may well be one
. “Long-son of the High King Brian Boru. Knight of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. With my blood—” he paused and squeezed the blade. White-hot pain tore through him as the razor-sharp edge sliced into his palm. He forced himself to continue in a steady voice. “I vow to defend your daughter against all the evils of this round world.” Bright crimson dripped from his clenched fist and splattered on the wooden steps by his knee while he spoke. “With me, she will never feel want nor hunger nor cold nor loneliness.” He looked at Shay. “I will be as a shield for her, and she for me.” His gaze shifted back to Isobel.