Irish Moon (25 page)

He’d also be lying to deny that a small voice
whispered to him that an abandoned keep could be an excellent
hiding place. A small chest among a bevy of forgotten furniture
could be left for all to see and none to suspect.

The voice grew louder, negotiating the notion
with his rational brain that said it could never be so easy as
accidentally coming across the chest. And Ashlon found his own
anticipation grew with it. So much so that the pain of loss faded
to the background and he was able to live in the present again.

Well, the near
present
,
anyway.
Approaching the home Breanne had grown up in, played in, made him
think of their encounter last night. Before the kiss, before her
attempt at bravado, he thought of her stubbornness.

Giving her the book had earned her
cooperation far more easily than he had expected. Worse, she seemed
to think that she was meant to help him, that Heremon had spoken
from the grave and told her that Ashlon was her continued
responsibility.

She’d gone from resistant and annoyed, to
optimistically determined so fast it had made his head spin. He
didn’t look forward to the stubbornness she’d displayed rearing its
head again when he ended her convoluted notion that she and he were
a part of this together.

Hell, she hadn’t even asked what the quest
was that she supposedly was fated to help him with. She didn’t even
question it.

The outer bailey was surrounded in a tall and
thick stone wall. The only entrance or exit was a narrow but
heavily banded and barred gate. Quinlan managed it open and soon
they entered the keep itself.

The couple and their small son, the family in
charge of its upkeep these last years, stayed out of their way,
going about their daily chores with no more than a few curious
glances.

He wondered if they
suspected the future master might have just walked in. The
furniture gleamed, dusted and polished
,
and was unworn save for by time
itself. They strolled through each room in silence akin to respect
for the dead.

Dead is what the place was in its own way.
Though the items within were still new and cared for, none of the
manicured rooms were lived in. They reminded Ashlon of his
childhood estate in England after Christophe’s death. They were
equally empty and silent then.

Ashlon shook off the past, cleared his
throat. “Should we inspect the tower’s parapets?”

Quinlan seemed startled from reverie, as
well, nodded after a quick jerk close to a shudder.

Ashlon kept his eyes peeled for the chest and
wouldn’t allow himself to be disappointed if he didn’t see or find
it. Looking over the rooftop edge of the tower, the valley and
community spread out before them. It was a beautiful view and he
counted Lady Breanne auspicious in inheriting it. Did she recognize
or know that none of her gender in other lands could hope for land
entitlement alone?

Few men even received such
a generous amount. He wouldn’t upon the death of his father, being
the youngest of four sons. He was fortunate to have been chosen to
join the Templar Knights and still carried that first sense of
pride when Jacques hand
-
selected him.

It was a strong and
smartly built fortress
,
despite its age being centuries older than
Niall’s or the others. Niall’s in fact was new by comparison, a
decade old. This keep had a separate kitchen and, possibly,
dungeon. Quinlan offered some history surrounding it.

Breanne’s stronghold had
once been the main of the community, before the Normans invaded. A
female warrior had once defended it against invaders. The woman was
conceivably one of Breanne’s ancestors. But the Normans were
determined conquer
or
s and blended with the Gaelic residents, becoming more Irish
than the Irish, and so the saying came to be.

Standing and gazing upon the beauty of the
green valley was as good a moment as any to end their agreement.
Ashlon cleared his throat and put lingering connections to his past
to rest.

“Master Quinlan, I am sorry to say that I can
no longer act as your instructor in matters of the heart.”

Quinlan faced him, crestfallen. “No. I cannot
ask another and, Sir Ashlon, I need the help. I have mucked things
up so badly that you are my single hope.”

“Surely, you exaggerate. The Lady Breanne
does not seem so unapproachable as you imply.”

“She is not. I easily approach her, it is
what comes out of my mouth after the fact that gives me trouble. I
implore you. Do not abandon me yet.”

“I dare not stay here long enough to offer
any suitable help and I fear to receive any returned education as
we agreed. I feel it will waste both our time.” Time he should
spend searching.

“Not at all. Why you’ve already helped
immeasurably.”

Ashlon frowned. How was that possible? They’d
discussed little yesterday that he applied to Quinlan’s
situation.

“Sir Ashlon, you made me realize something
quite important during our last talk. I realized that before I was
made aware of Breanne’s feelings for me, I had no nervousness at
all in her presence. Now that I know, I do. I feel if we work on
relieving my nervousness, I will soon succeed.”

It was hard not to smile at Quinlan’s eager
countenance, nodding his head, gesturing his hands for emphasis. He
looked like he talked of a plan of attack not a design to woo a
woman.

Ashlon suppressed a chuckle, imagining
Breanne’s reaction to being attacked into marriage, as it were.
They seemed such an ill-fitted match, Quinlan and Breanne. While he
was sober but innocent, she seemed intent and worldly. Perhaps that
was what intimidated Quinlan.

“I also must admit something to you. Some
time ago, the very night my sister related Breanne’s true feelings
toward me, I imbibed. A lot.”

“We all have and will in the rough course of
love, Quinlan. ‘Tis naught to be ashamed of.” The breeze brought
the scent of rain.

“Please, allow me to
finish. As I said, I imbibed. And as I’ve recently related, I am
not experienced in the ways of ladies. Which is not to say, I am
not experienced. But Lady Breanne is of good breeding and is a
lady
,
despite
having somewhat masculine tendencies.”

“She seems not the least masculine to
me.”

Quinlan’s face reddened a bit and he lowered
his head. “I kissed her.”

Ashlon went quiet.

“I kissed her that night and I fear that I
destroyed her feelings for me in that single kiss.”

Ashlon needed to the get the direction of the
conversation back in hand, feeling more than curious. He felt
annoyed, as well. Thinking of Quinlan in a heated embrace the likes
of which he’d experienced only hours before was more than annoying.
He didn’t like it and that unsettled him.

“She slapped me.” Quinlan looked at him.

Ashlon struggled to keep his features
unreadable, to hide the sudden relief the last statement shouldn’t
have given him. Quinlan’s was opposite. All of his discomfort
showed openly on his young face.

“If you’re asking me for help in the art of
kissing, I will have to disappoint you,” Ashlon said.

Quinlan guffawed and the stretch of
uneasiness between them vanished.

“No. I thought not. And I’ve never had a
similar reaction, if I may be so boastful.”

“You may.” They headed
back in, the subject officially dropped. He’d failed to end their
bargain
,
but
since he had no honorable designs on Lady Breanne other than the
translation, he might as well continue it. In a few days, he would
have the chest back in his possession and be on his way, away from
Tir Conaill.

* * * *

Of all the sordid ways Finn fancied waking
Breanne, she cringed most over his licking between her toes. While
it wasn’t surprising that he welcomed her awake with the tactic,
she was surprised to see him.

“Where were you off to this time?” she asked
after scuffing away from his disgusting tongue. Though groggy, she
was glad he woke her. “Where is Erlene?”

“Dismissed. I sent her to your mother
posthaste for a new chore.”

“I am not a chore and I know very well you
did not speak to her. I’d have woken to bloody screaming, to be
sure.” She swung her feet to the floor, rubbing the sleep from her
eyes.

“Your mother came for her shortly after I
arrived this afternoon,” Finn said, switching his tail.

“Is it evening
already
,
then?”

“Nearly the dinner hour. I imagine a bath
will arrive shortly since Lady Ula said to Erlene she’d never seen
you rest so soundly since you were a babe and then dismissed
her.”

Breanne smiled. She’d hardly had time with
her mother in the last few months, even during her time among the
ladies, Ula was rarely present long enough to enjoy her company.
Ula had a thousand and three arrangements to complete in less than
enough time, as she liked to say these days.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said and went to
her trunk. “I’ve found Heremon’s Grimoire.”

Finn perked up and followed her. “Where did
you find it? When did you get it? Is there something we can use for
the curse?”

“I don’t know yet, Finn. I just got it last
night. But my hopes are high. Mayhap it will unlock my gifts,
finally.”

Finn nosed through her arms and into her lap
as she opened the volume there. “Have you seen it before, Finn? Do
you know how it works, backward, forward, scattered?”

“No. I haven’t and I don’t. While Heremon
asked much of me in your training, do recall, I was never his. Only
yours,” Finn said. “If he held any tool in aiding me, he refused to
offer it.”

“There’s no use in being angry with Heremon
now, Finn. Unless the dead can hear, or care, which I doubt.”

Finn kicked off of her lap and went to her
bed. He scratched the bundled covers. “Yes, well I hope he hears
and hates it. I hope he turns in the grave. And when you do release
me, I hope I see him in the Otherworld and I will tell him further
then, as well.”

Breanne drew her eyebrows together. “I’ll
thank you to not take it out on my bedding. You’ve been gone
stewing in your anger these last days, then, haven’t you?”

Finn lay into the nest he created,
silent.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I care not what you’ve
been off to. I rather like the freedom of it and encourage you to
go again whenever possible.”

“
And allow you more time
with the knight? Or did you not notice he spends most time with
your beloved Quinlan nowadays?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t. By the by, Breanne, how
goes the husband hunt?” Finn closed his eyes, his mouth curled.

Her bath was delivered at that very moment
and Breanne swore that had it not, Finn might have been tossed out
the window.

The damned feline not only
managed to ruin her excitement over the book
,
but also knew too damned much.
Yes, she’d spent time with Ashlon and no, he had not been keeping
company with Quinlan. She was sure of it. Finn could only be
finding the right chords in her to play her well. She should know
just how proficient he was at it by now.

Chapter Fifteen

He hadn’t been at dinner that night or the
next. Breanne tried to keep her mind off of the fact by translating
Heremon’s book but it made it all the worse. Finn’s silence didn’t
help. In fact it made his statement actually seem potentially
legitimate.

She didn’t want to believe it. Certainly, she
had seen the two men together and it wasn’t untoward of Quinlan to
continue to befriend Ashlon. After all, he had been the person who
had come upon the knight on the road and brought him in.

But, why did Ashlon no longer join them at
dinner? He had been a staple every other night since his arrival.
She tried to tell herself that it was a good thing, that it allowed
her time to work without added pressure. But, then why had the
‘life and death matter’ suddenly stopped being so vital as to lure
her into a midnight meeting by moonlight?

Exasperated, Breanne tossed the book aside.
Her head hurt, her eyes ached and her brain felt numb. She was
making little progress and at this rate, Ashlon would be here
through winter solstice, if he weren’t dead by then. And she would
have failed Heremon.

What could a wooden box hold that could be
worth such trouble? Her first thought, that Ashlon was merely
attached to the chest, evolved when he’d shown her the drawing. The
chest must hold significance for the Druid to put it to paper. And,
with the riddling script border, doubtlessly it was worth far more
than she could guess.

Perhaps Heremon’s death was linked to the
chest. But who could know of it or of Ashlon’s arrival? If she ever
solved the puzzle she’d be using it to find out from Ashlon exactly
what lay inside.

The first wedding guests arrived that morning
and she had nothing to give Ashlon. She didn’t doubt at any moment
he would come knocking for answers she didn’t have. What in the
world could he be doing with himself in the meanwhile? Certainly,
Quinlan and he had little in common, and to what end if he truly
meant to leave soon? It felt too much to hope his absence from the
keep was an attempt to become the unremarkable visitor as she’d
advised.

The clang of metal on metal echoed up from
the yard. The clang in and of itself wouldn’t have called her
attention but when a round of cheers followed it, Breanne shot to
the window, mindless of disturbing Finn.