Faerie Fate (11 page)

“Out with yee all,”
Siobhan ordered the men. “Taidhg, send up the tub and hot water, will yee?”

Becca closed her
eyes. The relief on everyone’s faces humbled her. By leaving Taidhg behind,
Ciaran took her safety very seriously, and now her gut churned with guilt. If
something had happened to her, Riordan and Taidhg very likely would have
forfeited their lives for her foolishness. She resolved to be more responsible.

As the next few days
passed, Becca noticed a great deal of activity both in and out of the castle.
Out beyond the village, on a hill above a wide green park, a great pile of wood
sprouted, and everyone seemed to be obsessed with cleaning. She needed more
information before she made a tactical error so she finally asked Siobhan.

“
’
Tis
Beltane
,”
the older woman explained. “The first of May. All the hearth fires will be
extinguished, and at dark on Beltane, the bonfire will be lit. Each family will
light a brand from the fire to take home to relight the hearths. Did you not
celebrate it in your time?”

Becca shook her
head. “May first in my time was called May Day but no one celebrated.”

Enchanted by all the
activity, Becca avidly watched the preparations. As Siobhan had indicated, when
May first arrived, all the fires were extinguished, and people scrubbed all the
hearths clean. Everyone in the castle, village, and the outlying crofts dressed
in their finest and gathered on the green just before dusk. Food-laden tables
stood everywhere, and casks of wine and other drink were opened and shared.
Pipers played lively tunes while couples danced.

As dark fell, Odhran
lit the bonfire, and the night blazed with flames. Entranced, Becca wished
Ciaran was there to share it with her. Before she could brood too long, Riordan
appeared and claimed her for a dance. Laughing, she admitted she didn’t know a
reel from waltz, but he swung her around to the lively music and just managed
to keep his boots out from under hers. After a few jigs, she sent him off to
find a more willing cailín.

Siobhan clustered
with other women whose husbands were soldiers. Though Becca could tell from
their faces they were worried and missed their husbands, they still managed to
enjoy the festival. A few of them danced together, and they all ate, drank, and
laughed.

Becca felt out of
place again. As the MacDermot’s intended, she was not part of the village, but
since she wasn’t his wife yet, she wasn’t part of the castle either. Lonely,
she found a space a little away from the crowd. She spread Ciaran’s mantle and
sank down on it. Winken, Blinken, and Nod immediately appeared and nestled
around her. She tried very hard not to think about Ciaran but as she watched
Riordan draw a comely young cailín off into the dark, she couldn’t help
herself.

“You don’t have to
miss out on the festivities, Taidhg, just because I choose a quiet place,” she
said softly, knowing the man was nearby. His clothing rustled as he moved
behind her.

“
’
Tis all
right, cailín,” he replied, his voice as quiet as hers. “I have no wife, and my
head is too old to suffer the effects of drink on the morrow.”

At midnight, a small
trail of fire flickered, joining a small pile of brush with the main body of
the bonfire. By ones and twos, and then whole families, the villagers lined up
to jump across the smaller fire. Becca had no clue why they did so.

“
’
Tis for
luck,” Taidhg explained, sensing she didn’t understand. “And to protect us from
evil.”

“Then we’d best go
have a leap.”

He held out his hand
to help her up. As she approached the end of the line, Riordan suddenly
appeared at her side. “Since the MacDermot
’
tisn’t here, will you allow
me to be his proxy?”

Becca grinned, her
dimple showing as her eyes danced with mischief. “Haven’t you already jumped
across with that little brunette? How much luck and protection do you need?”

Riordan ducked his
head in mock chagrin, but Becca saw the impudence shining in his eyes. “
’
Tis
not for me, cailín, but Ciaran. I fear he will need all the luck he can garner
when he returns to deal with you.”

Laughing, Becca
grabbed his hand, and the two of them ran and leaped across the flames. Ever
faithful, Taidhg followed close on their heels.

Odhran was the last
person to leap the fire. All the heads of household then came to the bonfire
and lit a torch. With their raised brands chasing the shadows away, everyone
drifted back to their homes. Riordan lit the torch for the castle, and he now
led that procession back.

“
’
Tis
An
Taoiseac
who would do the honors,” Taidhg told Becca as they followed close
on Riordan’s heels. “So now Riordan stands in for him.”

Becca mulled that
over for a bit. She’d assumed Riordan was just another officer in Ciaran’s
service. Now she wondered. There was so much knowledge everyone else took for
granted, and about which, she had no clue. Desperate to fit in, she acted like
she understood, even when she was reluctant to ask what she didn’t know.

For the next
fortnight, Becca stayed very low-key around the castle. She let Siobhan teach
her needlework. It bored her to tears. Though there was some satisfaction in
watching a picture eventually take shape. It just took too long to suit her.
During the long years of her rehabilitation and decline, several nurses had
tried to teach her to embroider, needlepoint, and knit. Becca had always been
active, and the inactivity her injuries forced upon her body chafed her. She
purposely stayed away from the stables, though she watched Maggie May and her
foal from the courtyard. Becca did find some satisfaction out in the herb
garden learning the names and uses of the herbs.

One of her
grandfather’s ranch hands was a Cheyenne and his mother lived on the ranch with
them. She was a fascinating old woman who wove amazing tales of her people and
was a deep well of knowledge of both folklore and native medicine. Micco, her
son, often used herbal remedies on the horses. Many of the same herbs with the
same uses grew in neat rows behind the kitchen.

She’d found peace
and contentment in her predicament. Missing him terribly, part of her still
dreaded Ciaran’s return. A whole new can of worms would be opened when he did.
She was thankful his absence allowed her to adapt to her new life. Becca still
harbored the fear she’d suddenly wake up back in the twenty-first century, and
she couldn’t bear that thought. When Ciaran returned, she’d deal with the
problems he presented. At fifty, she’d long ago decided any semblance of
passion was long past her capability but the things that man could do with just
a kiss absolutely curled her toes, and it frightened her to death.

Chapter Eight

She couldn’t
breathe. Stabbing pain in her left side just above her hip.
No!
Panicked, Becca forced her way up through stifling darkness. Finally able to
open her eyes, she focused on the wolfhound lying across her feet. He was real.
This room was real. Becca touched her side, expecting to bring away a bloody
hand. Nothing. This pain was not hers.

Ciaran!
He’d been hurt and grievously so. Her heart
pounding, Becca knew only that she had to get to him. She threw off the covers
and ran to the door. Flinging it open, she caught Taidhg curled up in front of
the door, asleep.

“Ciaran,” she
panted. “I must go to him.”

The man stared up at
her stupidly, still half asleep. “But, mistress, he’s far away. Fighting.” He
pushed up to a sitting position.

Exasperated, Becca
glared at him. “I know that, Taidhg. It doesn’t matter. He’s been hurt, and I
have to get to him. Do not argue with me. Get me a guide, provisions, and
horses.” When he still didn’t move, she yelled. “NOW!”

The commotion in the
hallway woke Siobhan. She stumbled out of her room, blinking the sleep out of
her eyes. “What is it, cailín?
’
Tis not even dawn yet.”

“It’s Ciaran,
Siobhan. He’s been hurt. I must go.”

“Nay, cailín,
’
tis
too dangerous. The O’Briens are raiding, not to mention some of the other
clanns. And there are those who are less than loyal to the O’Conor. They also
have axes to grind with the MacDermot. If they caught you, cailín...” Siobhan’s
voice trailed off. She did not want to think about the bloody war that would
ensue if anyone harmed the young woman.

“I’ll just have to
make sure that doesn’t happen,” Becca snapped. She grabbed the other woman’s
arm. “Siobhan, he’ll die if I don’t get there in time.” Her voice broke, and
she blinked back tears.

“We’ll need at least
a company.” Taidhg hoped to dissuade her.

“No. That would
leave Ailfenn undefended. Two men. We ride hard and fast. Go, Taidhg.” Becca
remained adamant. She took Siobhan’s arm and pulled her into the chamber. “I
need clothes, Siobhan. Trews and shirts. Heavy boots. And a first aid kit.”
Realizing she’d used a twenty-first century term again, she explained what she
needed.

Within the hour, she
was ready. Taidhg and Riordan awaited her in the courtyard. Becca had raided
Ciaran’s den and found a sword light enough for her to handle and a dirk.
Belting them on, she sent up a quick thanks for the fencing lessons she’d
received when the captain of the Modern Pentathlon team had tried to lure her
away from the equestrian team. She swung the blade experimentally. It was
certainly different from the foil she’d trained with and was far more deadly
but Becca might have need of deadly force before all was said and done.

She swept through
the massive doors of the keep just as the sun rose. The first rays of dawn
bathed her in a golden nimbus, and her appearance caught everyone by surprise.

“She could pass for
a warrior,” Taidhg whispered to Riordan.

The other man simply
nodded, too stunned to speak.
She could be a Fenian Warrior come to life,
his mind insisted. Who was this woman who had so ensorcelled his kin?
And
me,
he added with honesty.

Becca was tall for a
woman and muscular with broad shoulders. She’d tied her hair back with a
leather thong and wore her trews and boots like she’d been born to them.
Riordan knew of no woman who would be so comfortable, so confident in male garb
but Becca looked like a Celtic warrior queen of old.

The horse master
himself held Arien’s bridle. Becca needed no help to mount now that a skirt no
longer encumbered her legs. Eachan patted her thigh with far more familiarity
than anyone else in the keep would have dared.

“Take care of him,
and he’ll take care of you, cailín,” he whispered to her.

Becca nodded, not
trusting her voice. Instead, she put her heels to her horse and cantered out
the gate, Riordan, Taidhg, and the two wolfhounds hard on her heels. Once
beyond the gate, Becca motioned for Riordan to take the lead. She had no clue
which way to head.

The three rode hard
but wisely, keeping their horses as fresh as possible. Every sinew and synapse
within Becca screamed that she run Arien until he could run no more. Her need to
get to Ciaran was that great.

****

As that first day
slid into evening, her grit astonished both Riordan and Taidhg. She never
complained, never slowed them down, never expected cosseting like most ladies
would have demanded as their due. They’d made excellent time and were much
farther than Riordan had anticipated. When the night grew too dark to ride
safely, Riordan called a halt. He’d found a small copse of trees not far from a
stream.

Becca unsaddled
Arien and rubbed him down with handfuls of sweet-smelling grass. When she
finished, she led him to the stream to drink his fill. Taidhg strung a picket
line while Riordan watered their mounts.

Becca sat on the
bank of the stream, and Riordan hunkered down on his heels next to her. “
’
Tis
a cold camp tonight, mistress,” he apologized.

“Aye,” Becca agreed.
“I, too, hope the three of us can pass through unnoticed.”

Riordan nodded,
astounded by her acumen. She was indeed well matched to the MacDermot.

They settled the
horses and huddled together in the copse, their mantles wrapped around them.
Taidhg broke open a pack and dug out some journey cake and dried venison. Becca
shared a measure of hers with the wolfhounds now snuggled on each side of her.

“Will you tell me,
Riordan?” Becca finally broke the silence. “Will you tell me of the clann?”

Riordan grinned at
her, cocky good humor twinkling in his eyes. “Curious are you of the clann
you’ll be joining soon enough? Well, those of us tied to the MacDermot are more
a sept than a clann,” he explained. Becca felt utterly confused.

Taidhg, more
familiar with her background, broke in. “A sept denotes direct lineage from
common parents, mistress. Riordan and the MacDermot belong to the sept of
MacDermot.”

“Why do you call him
the
MacDermot?” she asked. Taidhg and Riordan exchanged uneasy glances.
“Oh, hell,” she sputtered. “I know you’ve heard the rumors about me. I’m not
daft. I just can’t remember much of what happened in my life before Ciaran and
Niall found me.”

“Captain MacDonagh
was nigh beside himself that night,” Taidhg explained to Riordan. “Not to
mention the
Taoiseac,”
he added with a wry grin.

“As you wish,
cailín,” Riordan acquiesced, falling into the more familiar address. “A lesson
in clann history then. As Taidhg said, a sept is a familial group descending in
direct lineage from common parents. I am a MacDermot, a direct cousin to
Ciaran. Ciaran is
the
MacDermot. He’s the head of the sept and the
clann. The clann, which includes the MacDermots and the septs owing fealty to
them, descended from one common ancestor. Captain MacDonagh is a distant
cousin, as is Taidhg. Several clanns form a
tuatha,
which is like a
kingdom. We owe allegiance to the O’Conor of Sil Muredaich. Conchobhar O’Conor
is King of Connaught. Have you no idea of your family, cailín?”

Becca shook her
head. Her grandfather’s last name had been Connor, which was much too close to
O’Conor for comfort. The voices in her head had insinuated she’d lived in this
time, but they’d given no indication of who she had been. She sure didn’t want
to make any rash statements about her ancestry. Her surname was Miller. Common
enough in the twentieth century, but too chancy in the nineth.

“Mayhaps
’
twill
come to you, mistress,” Taidhg said. His smile was meant to encourage her.

Becca’s whole body
slumped as exhaustion set it. She’d been running on adrenaline since dawn.
Before she could catch it, a huge yawn stretched her face.

“I agree,” Riordan
laughed. “
’
Tis been a long day with more just like it to follow. We’d
all best bed down.”

“I’ll take the first
watch, Riordan,” Taidhg offered.

Riordan nodded his
assent, rolled up in his mantle and was softly snoring within moments. Taidhg
moved away from the group and found a place in which to conceal himself.

Becca nudged Winken
with a toe. “Go with him and guard him well,” she told the dog. With a deep
sigh, the huge animal stood up, shook, stretched, and padded over to where
Taidhg had hidden himself. Becca then poked Blinken who was lying beside her.
“And you’ll go with Riordan when he relieves Taidhg.” The dog yawned but Becca
knew he’d obey.

She bundled up in
her own mantle. With her nose buried in the woolen wrap, she sniffed deeply. It
still smelled of Ciaran, and her stomach knotted in an unfamiliar but enticing
way. She knew what it felt like to awaken in his arms. Enough time had passed,
though the memory was more like a hazy dream than reality. She closed her eyes.
What would his arms, broad chest, and muscled abdomen feel like pressed against
her when they embraced skin to skin?

Ciaran was always
fiercely aroused whenever he was near her. Though she’d never actually seen a
naked man, Becca was well aware of the mechanics involved with the act itself.
She’d supervised the mating of her share of stallions and mares. Unbidden, the
image of Ciaran covering her body like a stallion over a mare seared across her
psyche, and she squirmed as inner muscles contracted. Flushing, she remembered
how his erection pressed against her. Though she had nothing to judge from
except some half-hearted teenaged memories, comparing him to a stallion might
be just a little too accurate for comfort.

Becca sighed. If she
didn’t quit thinking about his body, and what it might do to hers, she’d never
get to sleep. Tomorrow would be just as exhausting as today, and the urgency to
get to Ciaran still rode her hard. Resolutely, she forced all thought of him
out of her head.

****

“He gave the
Covenant without the binding.” The female was complaining again. “Its power is
diminished, and look what has happened.”

“There was magic
enough to deflect the blow. He will be able to ensure the line.” The male
sounded cocksure of himself.

“He should have made
the binding.” She was insistent.

“How could he? Fionn
died before his Covenant was fulfilled. That fool Aralt wouldn’t know a true
mate if she bit him on the
toín
.”

“Enough! No more
excuses. Ciaran must learn the binding oath before he becomes the biggest fool
of all.” She was adamant.

“He has until
Lughnasadh
to complete the binding.” Did he
sound a bit unsure?

“What happens if
this binding thing doesn’t occur by then?”

Silence.

“Fool. She still
hears.” The female was upset.

“Nay, dear heart,”
the male denied. “No fool am I.
’
T
is fools these mortals be.”

“And what of you who
tied the MacDermot’s fate to our own?”

“’Twas in the heat
of the moment,” he answered defensively.

“Pray she gets there
in time. The line can’t die.”

“What happens if I
don’t?”

More silence. Becca
sighed. Eventually, these people had to give her answers.

****

Becca woke up
shivering. Both dogs pressed against her as Riordan brushed her hair back from
her face. “What is it, cailín? What ails you?”

“
’
Tis not
me,” Becca replied groggily, trying to get her bearings. “
’
Tis Ciaran.
He has a fever.” She pushed herself upright. “What time is it? Can we safely
ride? I fear each moment I’m apart from him.”

Riordan nodded.
“Aye,
’
tis not even first light yet, but if we travel slowly, we can
ride.”

Taidhg was already
up and saddling the horses. Becca retreated to a bushy tree some distance away
and took care of her morning absolutions. She mounted up and followed Riordan’s
lead, Taidhg once again bringing up the rear.

The day passed
uneventfully, and as dark descended, they pressed on through the night until it
was again too dangerous to ride. Once more they made cold camp, this time
Riordan taking first watch. Becca was so tired she fell asleep with a piece of
journey cake still in her hand. Blinken dutifully followed Riordan while Winken
nestled at Becca’s back. Taidhg wrapped up in his mantle a few feet away and
fell into a light sleep.

They followed this
same routine for almost a sennight before they caught up to the first
stragglers of the O’Conor’s army. As they passed each group, Riordan asked
about the location of the MacDermot men and news of Ciaran. At last, the
captain of a troop of horse being held in reserve knew where their troops could
be found.