Heart of the Druid Laird (23 page)

“My granddaughter was the only one truly wronged. We will hear what Sidney has to say.”

“I’m your daughter. You should—”

“Enough.” The king’s tone brooked no dissent, and Áine fell silent. He turned to Sidney. “If indeed you hold my granddaughter’s memories, you will know what she called me when she was a child.”

“Mairéad called you Poppa Mór, father the great. It was the closest she could manage to grandfather.” Sidney raised her chin. “And you called her Princess Berry because she ate so many gooseberry turnovers once that she threw them all up in your lap.”

The king blinked rapidly as if trying to gain control over his emotions. Encouraged, Sidney continued. “You used to let her braid your beard.” She smiled. “It looked ridiculous, but you kept the braids in all day so her feelings wouldn’t be hurt. I can still remember the odd looks the nobles cast your way at court.” Dagda Mór’s expression softened, and his eyes filled with warmth as he looked at her. “None can doubt what you say is true.” Dagda Mór gestured to everyone. “Sit.”

Sidney leaned closer to whisper in the king’s ear. “You were the best grandfather in the universe, and Mairéad adored you. I hope you know that.”

The great king nodded, his eyes damp. Lachlan and Dermot rushed to bring him a chair. Once seated, he nodded for her to begin.

Racking her brain, Sidney considered where to start. Áine’s sullen expression helped her decide. “Mairéad never wanted immortality. She only drank the elixir of life because she knew how devastated Áine had been when her husband and sons refused the offer.”

She pointed to Áine. “The person Áine has become is nothing like the mother who raised Mairéad. When Mairéad was little, her mother filled their home with love and laughter. Mairéad hoped by becoming immortal, she could ease her mother’s sorrow. She hoped that, with time, Áine would return to the way she’d been when her husband and sons lived.”

Sidney shook her head. “By the time Mairéad met Dermot, Áine was already well on the way to becoming what she is today—cold and heartless. It was no great sacrifice for Mairéad to relinquish her birthright to marry the Druid Laird.”

“Lies.” Áine took a threatening step toward her.

“Not lies.” Sidney turned to Dagda Mór. “You know it’s true, Your Majesty. Mairéad told you what was in her heart before she and Dermot married.” Sidney reached out a tentative hand to place on the king’s arm. “Do you remember?”

“I do,” the high king said. “’Tis the shame I carry for my part in this. I told my granddaughter if she chose mortality, I would abandon her to whatever fate had in store. I swore not to intervene.” He covered Sidney’s hand with his. “’Twas my wounded pride that spoke those words. It pained me that she would choose a mortal over her own kith and kin.”

“Is…is that why you intervened after the murder? Did I have to relive Mairéad’s death to regain her memories?”

Dagda Mór nodded. “I had no choice but to punish the Druid and his men. You must understand, this took place during the fifth century. Times were very different then.”

It all began to make sense, and Sidney’s respect for the king rose several notches. Hope flared in her heart. Maybe there was a way to settle this without killing a room full of men who didn’t deserve to die.

Sidney straightened, raising her chin to continue. “Áine didn’t lie when she said she didn’t hear Dermot’s pleas for help, but she didn’t tell the truth either.”

“How dare you. Are you calling me a liar?” Áine’s eyes lit with malice. “You’re nothing but an insignificant insect compared to me, and you deserve to be squashed like one.” She lunged toward Sidney with her arms outstretched. Dermot stepped between them, and suddenly Sidney found herself surrounded by all of the men.

“You’ll have to get through me and my men first,” Dermot snarled.

Áine lifted her hands. Blue flames traced up her arms to her fingertips. “So be it.”

Dagda Mór flashed in front of Áine. “Cease.” His voice boomed and echoed off the stone walls like thunder.

Sidney blinked, unsure if what she’d seen had been real. The air in the room smelled of something hot and metallic. No one moved or made a sound. She clung to Dermot’s arm, grateful for his solid strength.

Áine’s body stiffened. Her arms became rigid and immobile against her sides. Eyes blazing with white-hot rage fixed upon Dermot, his men—and on her. A gurgling sound came out of Áine’s mouth as she tried to speak.

“I warned you.” Dagda Mór’s voice was laced with sadness as he regarded his daughter. “You will remain in your chambers until summoned.” With a flick of his wrist, Áine disappeared in a pulse of energy so strong, Sidney had to hold on to Dermot to stay upright.

“Shite,” one of the men muttered.

“Need a change of drawers, lad?” someone teased, and the room erupted in nervous laughter.

This was the first time any of them had uttered a sound since Sidney had entered the room. She tried to move Dermot out of her way. He wouldn’t budge, but gestured to the rest of the men to return to their places. Peering around his broad shoulders she saw Zoe in the corner, her eyes wide with fright. She caught Sidney’s glance and opened her mouth as if to say something. Thomas covered it with his hand and tucked her up beside him. Were they all that afraid of Dagda Mór?

Clearing her throat, Sidney glanced at him for permission to continue. The faerie king’s posture spoke of long suffering heartache. In that moment, she forgot he was a supernatural being capable of unimaginable things. Her heart went out to the man who had once been the center of Mairéad’s world.

“Poppa Mór,” she whispered, wanting to soothe him.

He lifted his weary eyes and studied her for several moments. “The vessel is altered, but your spirit remains as bright and pure as it ever was.” He turned away. “Continue. I would hear the rest. Sit down, Druid. No harm shall come to your woman. You have my word.” He moved stiffly back to his chair.

Dermot’s woman?
How she wished. Sidney’s heart flipped. She waited for everyone to sit before continuing. “Dermot wasn’t the only one who pleaded for Áine’s help that morning. Mairéad called to her, as well, and when Áine didn’t respond, she left her dying body and went to her. She found Áine drunk and passed out in the midst of an orgy.”

Dagda Mór ran his hand over his brow. “I suspected she kept some part of the tale from me.”

“I don’t blame Áine for what happened.” Sidney shook her head sadly. “The fact is, no one here is to blame. Mairéad shouldn’t have—”

Dermot rose from his place and came to stand before her. “I will no’ have you blaming Mairéad or yourself. I canna bear to hear those words come from your mouth. My wife was innocent of any wrongdoing. She was goodness itself and brought only joy to any who knew her.”

“Yes, but Mairéad knew forming an alliance between the
Tuatha Dé Danann
and your clan would cause trouble. And she never should’ve agreed to the terms Áine and Dagda Mór set forth. If it hadn’t been for her, none of this would’ve happened. She brought all of this down upon your heads, and all because—”

“Stop it.” Dermot shook her by the shoulders. “No’ another word. Your assumptions are false. The fault lies with the greedy bastards who envied what we had. Mairéad had naught tae do with it.” He pulled her into his arms and crushed her to his chest. “You bear no blame, lass. Mairéad bears no blame.”

The room and everyone in it were forgotten as Dermot held her.
This is where I belong, and this is what I will never have.
Sidney held him back for all she was worth.

Someone cleared his throat. Embarrassed, Sidney stepped away. They weren’t alone, and nothing had been resolved. She studied the floor, her shoes, his shoes, anything to keep from losing herself in the depths of his clear gray eyes.

“I’ve heard what I came to hear.” Dagda Mór rose from his place. “What would you have me do? An agreement was formed when Mairéad and Dermot wed, and the terms were not upheld.”

“Mairéad wouldn’t have wanted anyone punished, and you know it. These men had their lives stolen from them. She cared about them and their families and never would’ve tolerated this injustice.” Sidney drew in a large breath. “What I want is for you to give them back their mortality without ending their lives. If it’s possible, that is.” She waited for Dagda Mór to respond. When he didn’t, her nerves took over. “Will you let each man choose for himself what he wishes to do? Some may want to live, others might choose…” She couldn’t say it. “Every man here should have the right to choose for himself.”

“It is unheard of for the
Tuatha Dé Danann
to alter a decree made with humans. I must consider the ramifications before reaching a decision.” Dagda Mór closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I have a great deal to think about. Áine and I shall return at dusk.”

A palpable tension filled the room. Every cell in her body on full alert, Sidney watched as Dagda Mór and Áine prepared the sideboard. Several small vials now sat by the pitcher and goblets. One formula for death, another for mortal life? God, she hoped so. The king and his daughter had arrived at dusk in silence, and neither uttered a word as they worked. Sidney clasped Zoe’s hand and huddled close. Like everyone else in the room, she held her breath.

Dagda Mór turned to face them, his blue eyes lit with the inner flame of the power coursing through him. “All is prepared.” Dagda Mór’s voice echoed through the dining hall. “Long have I waited for my granddaughter’s return.” His eyes settled on Sidney. “I have listened to her heart, and it is she who has decided your fate.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Dagda Mór straightened to his full height and faced them with regal authority. “It is my decree that each man shall choose his own fate this night.”

Gasps and murmurs buzzed around her. Dagda Mór had granted her request, and instead of feeling relieved, a new apprehension pressed in. She had no idea what Dermot would choose, or Lachlan, Liam and Donald. She’d grown fond of Dermot’s men over the past weeks.

“Druid, come forth,” Dagda Mór commanded.

A surge of adrenaline shot through Sidney, and she sucked in her breath.

“With your permission, sire, my men come first,” Dermot said. “It is my desire that they have the honor before me.”

Dagda Mór inclined his head slightly. “As you wish.”

Dermot’s men lined up, and the first to approach was a man Sidney had hardly spoken to. She remembered his name was Fergus, and Thomas had told her he was the oldest of all of them.

Fergus spoke to Dagda Mór and turned to face Dermot. “I’ve never belonged in this century, Laird. We were no’ meant to live beyond our time. I have yearned for a mortal end for far too long, and it is with a glad heart that I go to my rest. Dinna mourn for me, lads.” Fergus lifted his goblet to everyone assembled. “I’ve nae doubt we’ll meet again.”

Fergus downed the antidote Áine gave him. Sidney covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out. With a loud hiss, like air escaping under pressure, he turned to dust and fragments of bone, settling on the floor at Áine’s feet.

Two of the men in line quickly gathered his remains. Placing them reverently in a wooden box, they moved him to the side of the room where one of them wrote his name on the side. It was then Sidney noticed thirteen boxes just like Fergus’s stacked in the corner. Why hadn’t she noticed them before? A chill went down her spine at the sight, and she started to tremble.

Thomas was next, and Zoe’s grip tightened on her hand. He never took his eyes from Zoe as he drank the antidote. When he rejoined them, he took Zoe into his arms and murmured something into her ear. He held her tight for a moment, and then stood beside her. His expression grew solemn as the next in line came forward, and Sidney noticed the red rimming his eyes.

So far, three men had chosen to return to dust. Sidney’s anxiety grew as the last four in line before Dermot took their turns. All but one chose life. Finally, Dermot stood alone before Áine and the king. He made his wishes known to Dagda Mór. Sidney strained to hear what he said, but the words were spoken in Gaelic. Everyone in the room stilled. His men bowed to him with their hands over their hearts. The gesture of fealty sent Sidney into a panic. They knew. She didn’t. Biting her lip to keep from begging him to choose life, she blinked her tears back and waited.

Dermot accepted his goblet and turned to face her. Their eyes met and time froze. Nothing else existed beyond this moment and the connection they shared. Sidney’s breath caught. Dermot lifted the antidote in salute to her and raised it to his lips.

“Hold, Druid,” Dagda Mór shouted. The king grasped Áine’s wrist so hard she grimaced, and the air crackled with power. “That goblet does not hold the antidote Diarmad requested. In this at least I had hoped you would prove honorable.” His face an angry mask, he shook his head. “You have betrayed my trust for the last time.”

Dermot placed the goblet down on the sideboard. “Sire, my men have suffered enough at Áine’s hand. Must they look over their shoulders in fear for the rest of their lives?”

Áine snorted, and derision darkened her features. “They should fear me, and so should your little pet.”

“Sidney spoke the truth.” The king regarded Áine sadly. “My daughter has lost all trace of the compassion she once possessed. I fear the heart beating within her has shriveled to naught. She will be punished for her actions. No harm shall come to anyone here because of her. You have my word.”

“Punished?” Áine’s shrill voice cut through the room. “
I
am your
daughter
and a direct descendent of the goddess Danu. You would punish me, your own flesh and blood, over a few minor transgressions against a group of miserable
humans?
What are they to us?”

“Silence. I am ashamed to call you kin.” Dagda Mór’s body began to glow from the inside out. “Though I cannot take your immortality from you, I can bind your powers and take your memory. You are banished to the mortal realm until I see proof that you have learned compassion and regained your heart.”

“No,” Áine screamed. “You can’t. I—” She vanished, and ripples of magic pulsed through the room.

Dagda Mór turned to the sideboard and prepared another goblet for Dermot. Handing it to him, the king nodded to Sidney. She nodded back just as he disappeared. Would she ever see him again?

Dermot raised the antidote and drank it. When he didn’t turn to dust, Sidney’s knees went weak with relief. More than anything, she needed him to come to her. Instead, he stood in the midst of his men as they slapped each other’s backs and laughed at their good fortune.

Dermot belonged here in this castle in the Highlands. His men would always come first, and it was time for her to return home to her own life and family. If Mairéad’s memories had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t willing to waste any more time loving a man who wouldn’t or couldn’t love her back. Nothing less than total unconditional love would ever do for her.

She slipped out of the room unnoticed. She should feel ecstatic. Instead, lethargy and numbness overtook her. The past three weeks had been hellish, and it all caught up to her the moment Dermot had put the goblet to his lips. The overwhelming exhaustion dragged her down to a place she’d never been before. It was a wonder she could place one foot in front of the other to climb the stairs and walk down the hall.

Compared to what she’d been through in the past couple of weeks, the fears she used to have about the future were insignificant. She’d faced death and survived. Nobody could tell
her
she lacked abilities. No matter what, she’d succeed—after a week’s worth of sleep, that is.

Opening the door to the turret suite, she headed straight for her purse and took out the certified check Dermot had given her. She placed it on the table next to the hearth where he would surely find it. Glancing down, she caught sight of his precise signature at the bottom. Her heart wrenched, and a tear trickled down her cheek. How bizarre, to have your heart broken by the same man in two different lifetimes.

Dermot lifted his goblet, toasted his men and drank down the antidote the king had handed him. By the time he’d downed the contents, Dagda Mór had disappeared.

His body tingled, and ecstasy surged through him. On the heels of the ecstasy came mind-reeling possibilities. Choice. Sidney had gifted him with something he’d never had before. Joy filled his entire body. He wanted to go to her, but the moment he set the goblet down, his men surrounded him to slap his back and shake his hand. He watched Sidney slip out of the hall without even glancing his way. Thomas and Zoe soon followed.

Conversation flowed around him as each man sang Sidney’s praises and discussed what they would do with their lives now that they were mortal. Dermot shook his head. A few days ago, the same group had demanded he end their wretched existence.

“I’m young, rich and exceedingly handsome,” Liam boasted. “I plan to make up for lost time with the lasses. After a few years, I’ll settle down and raise a family. I know exactly what kind of woman I want for a wife too. She’ll be smart, independent, beautiful, and she’ll worship the ground I walk on.”

“It’s no’ likely a smart woman is going to worship the ground
you
walk on, lad. Best go for a dull-witted lass,” Lachlan teased.

Murmurs of wives, bairns and homes circulated around the room. Laughter and jibes filled the air. His men were happy, and they had Sidney to thank. Dermot sobered as he remembered the four who were no longer with them. He gave a shrill whistle, and his men quieted down. “Now we celebrate, but we canna forget those we’ve lost. Tomorrow we’ll hold a wake. In the meantime, I expect each of you to make your gratitude known to Sidney. If it weren’t for her bravery and wit, we’d still be cursed.”

“Aye.” Donald stepped forward. “We all saw the way she stood up to Áine and the king.”

“Did you see the expression on Dagda Mór’s face when she called him Poppa Mór?” Liam asked. “He sees his granddaughter when he looks at our lass.”

“
Our
lass?” Dermot grinned.

“Aye. Sidney belongs to our clan. Go after her, Laird.” Lachlan shoved his shoulder. “We do no’ want to lose her.”

He lifted his fist in the air and shouted a cry of victory at the top of his lungs. His men joined in until the stone walls reverberated with their tumult. Laughing, he left his men to their celebration and headed up the stairs to claim his love.

Sidney had turned his life upside down, breached his defenses and stolen his heart. No small feat that. She possessed the heart of a warrior equal to any he’d ever known. Now all he had to do was convince her that she belonged with him. He paused by her door to calm himself. The door was unlocked. He entered quietly.

A broom and dust bin leaned against one wall where a pile of broken china had been swept into a pile. Had Sidney broken them? Her back was turned to him, and her duffel bag lay open on the bed. She folded clothing and stuffed them inside.

“Zoe?” she asked without turning. “I’ve called the airport in London and booked my flight home. Will you and Thomas—”

“You’ve no’ forgiven me, then.”

Sidney jumped. Turning to face him, she covered her heart with her hands and stared at him with puffy, red eyes.

He lost the power of speech, and his mind went blank. All he wanted to do was drink in the sight of her and hold her in his arms. Seconds stretched past as they stared at each other. Mortal now, those seconds counted for something. Dermot shook himself. “You’re packing. Did you intend to leave without saying goodbye?”

“You were busy.” She shrugged. “It’s such a huge moment for all of you, I didn’t want to interrupt or intrude.”

“Intrude? If it weren’t for you, we’d still be cursed.” He swallowed hard. “You hold all of Mairéad’s memories?”

She nodded. “Since reliving her murder. I think my two lives kind of fused or something.”

“I let her down in the worst possible way. I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me.”

Frowning, she studied him. “How do you think you let Mairéad down?”

“She begged me to take our babe from her womb as she lay dying. I failed her.” Dermot felt awkward in his own body. The guilt and shame he’d carried all these years twisted him up inside until he couldn’t look at her. “I canna forgive myself, and I do no’ believe Mairéad would forgive me either.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Sidney turned back to her packing.

Not
the response he’d expected, though he didn’t doubt her for an instant. “An idiot?”

“Yep, a total moron.”

When she offered nothing more, his nerves began to unravel. “Care to explain?”

“Why would you think Mairéad would hold a grudge over something you couldn’t control? You never needed her forgiveness. The child was yours too. Don’t you think she knew how you grieved? Besides, you weren’t the one who put the dagger between her ribs. She never blamed you for anything that happened.” She drew in a deep breath. “That’s not how you let her down.”

“How then?” Dermot’s mind reeled.

“Mairéad loved you.” She sighed. “You never loved her back. And it’s…” Her lips compressed into a tight line.

“Finish what you were going to say.” Dermot took a step nearer and searched her face, desperate to understand what she was thinking.

“I’ve never been able to give my heart to anyone,” she blurted. “And it’s all your fault.” Sidney bit her bottom lip and averted her gaze.

“My fault? How so?” He held his breath.

“All my life I’ve been waiting for you to find me.” She stepped away. “You see…” She picked up a T-shirt from the bed, and started to fold it, giving him her back.

“Nay, I do no’ see anything. I need you to spell it out for me.”

“Mairéad never stopped loving you.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “And that whole sad state of affairs has somehow transferred to me.”

He wanted to laugh out loud. “Loving me is a sad state of affairs, is it?”

“I’m not Mairéad.” She spun around to face him. “Don’t think for a single minute that I’m going to moon over you the way she did. I don’t intend to keep loving a man who doesn’t love me back.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Good.” With a heavy sigh, she zipped her duffel.

“Are you no’ going to ask me why I chose to live?”

“Nope.”

“I intend to tell you anyway.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “If you must.”

“I know you believe Mairéad gave me no choice other than to marry her. You’re wrong.”

“But I remember how she pestered you and dogged your trail until you relented.” Confusion clouded her face. “She had supernatural powers.”

“I remember, as well.” He grinned. “I loved every minute of it. What such a beautiful, gentle, loving woman ever saw in me I’ll never understand.” He shook his head. “Mairéad never forced me into anything I didn’t already want, lass. I just didn’t know how to deal with it or how to identify what I was feeling. It was far easier to rationalize that I married her for the alliance she brought to our clan.”