Irish Moon (19 page)

“She favors the lad Danny quite well. He is
the only son of the Lady Isolde and Ferris Maguire, the clan’s
Brehon Law advisor.” They approached the tuath from the north.

“What is a Brehon advisor’s function?”

“Brehon Law,” Quinlan
said
,
“refers to
our laws that govern man’s punishment for crime
,
as well as other civil matters
such as property rights, debt repayment, marriage contract. It
would behoove you to familiarize yourself with the main points,
which you may through Ferris Maguire, if you would like to petition
joining the clan as a free man.”

Somehow, the conversation seemed to be
turning in his education’s direction. Consciously or unconsciously,
Quinlan had begun relating rather than revealing.

Three separate properties gained Ashlon’s
notice due to their impressive size. Two of the three were almost
as large as the O’Donnell keep and combined with it, all lay in
four points. A smart tactic, to surround the vulnerable with
stronger keeps and spread the clan’s power against attacks.

“Are all of these O’Donnell holdings?” he
asked and brought his gelding up short at the top of the hill.
Rolling green spread the valley below, craggy rock, heather laden
mounds breaking up the smooth lay.

“Nay, that there is houses
O’Neills
,
though
not of Niall of the Seven Hostages as Niall himself boasts blood
from. And that southern keep is MacSweeney. You may recall Shane
MacSweeney among Niall’s warriors, his family is the one and same
MacSweeney, though he lives at the main.”

“And the last?” Ashlon recognized the clan
head and referred to the smallest.

“That as well is O’Donnell property, though
only a handful of persons take residence there now. It is Breanne’s
and until she marries, it lays virtually empty.”

“That doesn’t seem a safe or clever course.
It leaves the clan vulnerable, does it not?”

“Aye, I don’t doubt it is among Niall’s
reasons in dictating Breanne marry by Beltane.” Quinlan nodded
absently.

While interesting, they’d tarried from the
original issue. Breanne. Ashlon needed more detail about her, and
more importantly, an opening for his own request: to get a missive
to the lady using absolute discretion.

“It will be yours then, if you win her.”

“Aye,” Quinlan said and straightened a bit.
“I hadn’t considered the ramifications of that. Think you it too
forward of me to inquire as to its security concerns?”

“That would depend on the lady herself. How
would you describe her temperament?” Ashlon resisted smiling wide.
He had done it. He had managed to redirect the young man’s
attention back to where they both needed it to be.

“Breanne would probably defend it herself
before allowing me to see to it. And as resistant as she’s been
toward my affections, I warrant she’d like anyone else to handle
the job.” Quinlan inhaled loudly and smacked his thigh. “You’ve
just given me a brilliant idea, Ashlon.”

Ashlon’s brow rose and gathered. He didn’t
like the look on his new friend’s face as he chewed whatever notion
popped into his young head. It looked best not to encourage him by
speaking.

“There are considerable
details to be worked out, but it is possible and might make all
parties involved happy. You see, Breanne would be right to wish
another to protect her holdings as I have little training or
experience and will admit even less interest in it. It has been my
favorite threat to tease her with for years, that I might join
Niall’s forces and
—
.”

“Master Blake—Quinlan, forgive my
interruption but what in Christ’s name are you attempting to say?”
he said.

“That you offer Breanne your services,”
Quinlan said, unperturbed by Ashlon’s force. “Your knight’s
training and experience is perfect for the holding, vulnerable as
you yourself noted. Acting as her sentinel would be a means for you
to possess income and further a request to join the clan should you
choose.”

“Why do you not make the same offer and
simply see to manning it yourself?” Eventual residence was an
option to consider. Immediate actions in doing so were not.

“As I’ve said, she would not grant me that
role. She loathes the trade her father died honorably for. She
views a man’s duty to protect his family should reach no further,
that soldiers are a necessary evil of life.”

“But you would not be that soldier.” Ashlon
pointed to the obvious and watched Quinlan squirm. “You would be
seeing to her interests, relieving her of what is likely a
dislikeable duty for which she has no skill.”

“There, you are mistaken. Breanne can protect
herself well and I’d prefer not to divulge the nature of my
confidence that she will reject the idea were I to offer it. If my
courtship had gone better thus far, I might say otherwise. I can
see, though, that you are not convinced.”

What had the young man done to so offend the
woman and what could he mean in saying she could protect herself?
He couldn’t ask. Quinlan’s clamped and sealed mouth looked more
than determined and he would not meet Ashlon’s eyes.

It wasn’t that the idea
was bad. He liked it
,
in fact
,
and that was what worried him. He couldn’t afford to get
attached to this place or people when he might be forced to forever
abandon both in seeing the chest to its resting place. The danger
therein might require that he leave, never to look back, not only
in the chest’s placement
,
but in insuring its secrecy also.

So, it was no use investing himself overly
much into this community until he knew he was safe to do so. Safe
for the chest, for the clan, for him. The loss of his entire belief
system, of what had become his family—he would not endure the kind
again.

Better to continue his strategy, get the
missive to the lady, gain a secret meeting and then her help. All
other themes, he would do better to keep at arm’s length.

“The day has gained on us, I fear,” Ashlon
said, ending the cold silence, urging his steed forward. Quinlan
nodded sharply and rode, as well.

“May we continue on the
morrow
,
Sir
Sinclair?” His voice was tight, shoulders squared.

“I look forward to it.” Ashlon didn’t smile,
kept his gaze on the keep.

“You have my gratitude, Sir.” Quinlan bowed
his head tersely then heeled his horse into a full gallop.

Ashlon followed him, though not closely.

* * * *

The portent replayed in her head over again,
intermittently, throughout the day. Breanne couldn’t help it. The
thrill of getting her first definite second sight contrasted
sharply with what it had revealed. Neither Rose, nor any of the
other ladies, noticed her deficient attention span, thankfully, and
chatted about the day’s work and Ula’s upcoming nuptials.

“The O’Doherty clansmen
arrive in three days time, O’Neills the day after. We will be
bursting with bodies and I fear we haven’t enough stock to cover
the event, let alone the days before it.” Ula didn’t look nervous
at all.
S
he
looked thrilled with her open smile and jubilant shrugs. “I cannot
believe it, ladies, the Ard-Righ, coming for my wedding. I know
he’s family to Niall and that he favors us, but to actually show.
It is a compliment and I do mark it shows approval.”

They all nodded in varying degrees. “Of
course, he approves Ula,” Isolde said and patted her longtime
friend’s knee between needle threads. “You’ve mourned your Jock
well long enough and what better man to marry than the one you
lost’s dearest friend. All approve the match. And don’t forget the
MacFearsons may come, as well”

“Don’t be sure of that, Isolde,” Rose said.
“Danny’s heart could very well be broken. He may have to marry
Breanne instead.”

Isolde’s hand went to her heart. Ula and she
exchanged a warm look.

“I admit it, I am taken with your son, Issy,”
Ula said. “Can you forgive me for it?”

Chuckles rippled over the gather of women.
Breanne smiled. The boy was a born flirt. She promised herself to
seek him out soon. Cooping herself up in the Grianan had kept her
from their daily visits. Her mother and Rose loved it here and
though each day got easier, Breanne still longed for her old
routine and would rather be keeping books than stitching.

She’d rather be attempting another presage.
Again she went over the details. She’d chanted, she’d mixed, she’d
scried the mirror. She’d envisioned him walking away, holding his
belongings, no, a chest where his belongings resided. He’d walked
up the north road on a clear bright day. The ground and hills
looked lush with summer’s overgrowth, the air buzzed with its hum
around his figure. She’d wished him safety, wished him well and to
continue his journey, seeing it to an end, on his way when he
stopped, turned, smiled.

The smile shocked her. It
was full and warm and his eyes looked at her as though in person,
as though he knew her, saw her. The image rushed forth then,
swirling and readjusting. His smile was the same, the chest he
still held, but it was night and he was not smiling at
her
,
but at it. A
shot of fright ran through her and she looked up, around him. The
full moon glowed yellow and rings of color hazed the azure sky. The
fright turned to clenching panic.

Ashlon held his hand out. She knew she was
there with him when she recognized the edge of her sapphire cloak
pooling before her. Then he spoke—“Breanne, can you hear me?”

She opened her eyes. Rose and Ula’s faces
were above her, hands fanned her face. She’d fainted.

“Are you well, Breanne, can you hear me?”
Rose looked angry with worry, her brow squished, lips pinched.

“Aye, I hear you. What happened?” Silly
question she knew the answer to.

“You toppled over of a sudden like you’d seen
a ghost. You said ‘Don’t go in’ in a great shout in the middle of
my very hilarious story and fell over flat on your back. Now,
what’s all this and are you well?”

She’d never seen Rose so forceful and
serious. Her mother sighed and gasped in turns, nodding at Rose’s
words, petting Breanne’s brow. Breanne sat up, swaying the
slightest bit when her sight warbled. She forced a weak smile,
hoping it would stop all the gawking and fussing. The terror of
those last instants lingered in her belly.

She needed to see him. He must leave Tir
Conaill and no doubt of it because she knew down to her bones that
his life was in danger if he stayed.

“Rhiannon, fetch the nearest available man
you find. She needs be carried to her room,” Rose said. Ula
nodded.

“No, I promise, I am well. I can’t say what
happened, but I assure you I am fine now.”

“You’ve succumbed to stress, without question
and I mean to see you rested.”

Breanne didn’t argue when Rose pierced her
with her angry eyes. She’d scared her friend, who was with child
and sensitive for it. Arguing would gain nothing but more scolds.
Besides, she’d much rather be back in her room.

Rhiannon returned as Rose helped Breanne to
her feet, with Quinlan Blake in tow. Breanne’s stomach sank like a
stone in water. The only other advantage of hiding from Ashlon
Sinclair was that it also kept her from Quinlan. The beaming smile
on his handsome face practically screamed his feelings
otherwise.

With easy grace, Quinlan scooped her into his
arms. His breathing stayed easy and he might as well have carried a
sack of flour for all the exertion he showed.

“My lady, I am sorry to
hear you do not feel well. I offer my services to use, as you need.
Make any requests to better your health.” He exited the Grianan
into the di
nn
er
hall and went to the corridor of stairs so efficiently Breanne
didn’t have time to protest his attentions.

“Thank you, but I assure you I am well. I
need only rest and only do so at Rose and my mother’s behest.” Was
he taking two gallant stairs at a time? Breanne forced herself not
to roll her eyes. She would be laid into her bed and given privacy
soon enough to stew and eye-roll over her misfortune.

Quinlan led a trail of ladies and only the
last glanced back at Ashlon Sinclair in step behind her. A single
wink had her giggling and running ahead, too shy to look back for
him. Ashlon paused at the top stair, in shadow, and watched the
entourage enter the last door to the right after the potential
couple. The whole scene looked very much like any newly wedded
couple on their way to consummate tender vows.

Ashlon didn’t like the view one bit and
worse, knew he should count it as a blessing. Quinlan had an
opportunity to make a good impression on Breanne, whom he desired.
Breanne got fussed over, which in his experience, ladies adored.
And Ashlon got a chance to act on his plot.

But when he saw Breanne cradled in his new
friend’s arms, something angry pricked in his chest. Jealousy. He
recalled her mouth parting, her eyes open with wonder as heat
pulled her to him. The image caused a weight to slide into his gut.
What fate had Jacques sent him to? What would wanting this woman
cost him before it was finished?

The door closed heavily, sucking the gaggle
of noise inside the room. Surreptitiously, Ashlon stepped forward.
There were three doors on either side of the corridor and he didn’t
have much time to abscond into one and conceal there until the
gentleman and ladies left her.

Ashlon skipped over the first set, favoring
proximity to her. Were those brown eyes warming for Quinlan as they
had for him? He shook the useless thought away. He had no right to
think of her so. And he’d be the last to repeat his first offense
in kissing her, or doing worse, again.