Irish Moon (37 page)

Breanne smiled back. “A fine idea.” Anything,
to erase the pain.

They sat together at the table of honor on
either side of Niall and Ula. Quinlan took effort to kiss her hand
and bestow a loving smile on her before sitting.

“You look absolutely beautiful, mother.”

Ula beamed at her, love in her eyes and no
trace of the earlier anger and disappointment. “As do you,
Breanne.”

Shame mixed with gratitude. Mayhap she had
not ruined her mother’s happiness with her scandalous behavior.
Mayhap things would turn out for the best, just as Rose had
declared.

For the first time that day, Breanne smiled a
genuine smile and cared not whose eyes were on her or what they
thought about it.

A flash of sapphire drew her attention across
the room. She instantly thought of her own missing sapphire cloak,
the single item unaccounted for once she’d righted the room. But,
when she turned to find the color’s source it was gone, the main
doors closing out a strand of night.

Another movement caught her eye. In the
shadows, not far from the entryway, she distinguished a set of
perfectly broad shoulders. The silver shine of a sword glinted in
the candlelight. None else in the room seemed to notice the
unmoving figure and Breanne’s heart tripped a beat.

It could not be him. It was too dangerous and
too impossible a hope to entertain. The form retreated further into
dark as a handsome couple passed by. Rhiannon and Timothy, hands
held were making another round of the room for congratulations.

“Are you quite prepared, then, Breanne? Are
you certain you can manage it?” Quinlan said low near her ear.

She glanced at him, her mind racing to the
man in the corner, pulling him into the light to verify that her
eyes were lying to her heart, teasing it mercilessly. “I’m
sorry?”

“They come this way now.” Quinlan nodded
slightly in Rhiannon’s direction.

Breanne looked back, torn, and found
Rhiannon’s lovely figure blocking her view. She nearly rose and
peered around her but a nudge from Quinlan recalled her earlier
insinuation.

She owed him far more than the planned
display would repay and could not worm out of it. Quinlan put an
arm about her shoulders, possessively so. Breanne acted her best
coyness, dipping her chin and batting her lashes. She leaned in and
pretended he’d just told her an enormously funny jest, timed
exactly at the couple’s approach.

“Lady Ula, King O’Donnell,” Timothy said, his
eyes barely able to land on any face, so enamored of his bride’s as
he spoke. “Please accept our eternal gratitude in allowing us to
join in you in happy day with our own.”

“It is our pleasure, of course, my good man.
Although I must say we will miss our little Rhiannon come the
morrow when you must away back to O’Doherty tuath,” Niall said and
speared a sweet meat to offer Ula.

Rhiannon’s eyes were hovering at Quinlan and
Breanne’s close embrace. Breanne could see the barely discernable
shift of the lady’s brow at seeing them. They’d struck their mark.
The jealousy nearly steamed from her ears.

“Ah, Quin, I’m afeared my smile might make me
wrinkled before my time, so much laughing as you’re forcing on me.”
Breanne plucked an invisible thread from his chest and allowed her
hand to rest there while she looked amorously up at him. While
Rhiannon pretended not to be watching the pair, the man in shadows
behind them consumed Breanne’s hopes and fears.

She wanted to see his face, to know the trick
her eyes must be playing and simultaneously feared the truth the
light would reveal. If it were Ashlon and he now watched her, what
would he be thinking? Would he see the ruse and know her real
desire for him or would he believe her a weak willed woman, given
easily to whim and want?

If it was not him, then he had not returned
for her. If it was then his life’s thread still hung at fate’s
sharp blade prime to be severed.

Rhiannon’s gaze fell on her face and Breanne
forced her best, joyous smile, praying that only she would believe
its lie. Quinlan deserved more than this tart of a woman had proved
to be and Breanne could not let Rhiannon believe she’d won and
upped him.

Breanne held her breath, seeing the movement
across the hall. She glanced there and back again to Rhiannon,
wishing an end to the couple’s visit.

“You must be so excited, Rhiannon, to leave
Tir Conaill and away to a new home,” she said. “No doubt your many
skills will do you well among new friends and family.”

The barb struck. She could see when
Rhiannon’s radiant smile faltered. It took a moment for her to
reply. “Aye, I will begin anew. I imagine it will be quite freeing,
not having a past known to all in clear detail.”

The insult was obvious but did not hurt. She
cared not what this woman judged her to be, as Rhiannon would never
know a love like Breanne had experienced. The sheer thrill that ran
through Breanne when Ashlon was near, the plunge of passion deep
within her soul, Rhiannon was ignorant of love like that. She was a
woman too wrapped in her own immediate wants to see and feel and
touch what Breanne had.

Breanne only shrugged, and the cavalier
response appeared to irritate more so than any insult. Rhiannon
glared openly at Quinlan and Breanne, tugged at Timothy’s arm and
began to drag him away mid-sentence.

Niall only chuckled at the inappropriate
leave, unoffended. “He’ll have his hands full with that one, mark
me. Quinlan, I dare say you’ve escaped the gallows thanks to
me.”

“I do see you are right on that count. It
appears I am in debt then to Breanne and Sir Ashlon, in a round
about way.”

Breanne winced as though he’d punched her in
the belly. She lowered her head to hide the color stinging her
cheeks. He was still very angry, then.

She should have predicted as much. A small
act of affectation for the lady bounder was not nearly enough to
compensate for a forced hand in marriage. Breanne waited until her
cheeks cooled before peering to the entrance again. When she did,
her breath stuck at her throat and her belly tilted. The man was
gone. Without thinking, Breanne stood up.

“Are you well, lass?” Niall said.

“Come Breanne, sit. I will not speak of him
again,” Quinlan said low next to her. “Breanne, you are causing a
stir.”

She became aware of how she must look, with
her mouth hung open, her brow gathered with concern and her hand
trembling over her breast. Quickly, she feigned a loud dramatic
sneeze and sat back down.

Several blessings and a scatter of applause
followed. She’d become quite the player today and would need one
more act’s success. Breanne waited a few moments and rose with a
delicate smile, patting her belly.

“Too much wine, I believe,” she said
demurely.

It worked. She walked toward the stairs and
slipped into the kitchen at the last step. Peeking through, she saw
no one that looked her way suspiciously and ignored the few that
did from behind.

“I need some cool night air,” she said,
fanning her face, for the benefit of those few that remained
interested in her sudden appearance.

Breanne stepped out the door and rushed down
the wall to where she hoped the man would be. She lifted her skirts
and cared naught for the noise she stirred. Her forced equanimity
was forgotten. All her mind and heart could care for was around the
stone corner of wall she raced toward.

Her pulse raced. A cheer echoed from within.
Muffled thunder of tankers and goblets hitting the wooden tables
carried, as well. She slowed enough to make the corner without a
fall and found herself square on her arse, nose hurting and
dazed.

She shook her head. Had she hit the wall? She
looked up and took the proffered hand in front of her. Ashlon. He
was back and before she gained a full standing position, her world
tilted again. He caught each elbow in his hands and her weight into
his body. Then, as she struggled to collect her wits, he swept her
up and hid around the dark corner she’d barreled into.

Chapter Twenty Three

The ground jarred her back to reality when
Ashlon soundly set her down onto it. Breanne didn’t know what to
say or how to feel. She wanted to kiss him fully on the mouth and
yet to slap him just the same.

“Why are you here? Have you secured the stone
to rest in such a short time, Ashlon?” His life was foremost on her
mind, the scenes she’d foreseen recalled.

Ashlon snorted. “My apologies for the rude
interruption of your festivities.” But, he did not sound the least
bit rueful.

“They are not my festivities, but my
mother’s, as well you know. You did not interrupt but are avoiding
my questions.”

He ran a frustrated hand through is hair.
“Please, keep your voice down. I’ve come back for you, that is to
say, I need your help yet again.” He did not sound like he wanted
it, though.

Breanne ignored the trill that ran through
her when he’d said he came back for her as well as its quick death
after he clarified his meaning.

“Please do not say you’ve lost the
stone?”

“Aye, it was taken from me on the road and I
have reason to believe you know the--what did you say?”

“I asked of the stone. And you have
answered.” What had he been about to say?

Ashlon took hold of her elbow. “We must away
at once. Someone is coming and I must demand you remain with
me.”

Breanne didn’t have time to answer or ask his
meaning or intentions. Soon he’d found cover near the gate and
motioned that they should slip away.

Distantly, she swore she heard her name
called. She winced. She could not answer and could not leave. Her
only hope at no alarm being called was the excuse she’d used to
make escape.

They slipped past the guard as he bent to
tend a boot. Ashlon held tightly to her despite her compliance and
they rushed through shadow, down the well worn main and under a
crofter’s thatch. The home was dark.

“Ashlon, please, tell me what happened.”
Fright fluttered through her body and she was close to trembling
with it. Something had gone completely awry and her presaged fate
for him weighted her heart.

“I’m not sure you will believe me and yet I
somehow trust you will. Ah, my head is scrambled since last night.
You’ve bewitched me so I no longer think straight, particularly in
your presence.” His words came harsh and low and he suddenly
released her arm as though his hand had been burned.

Ashlon paced in the shadow, clawing fingers
through his hair.

She kept silent and still, sensing he needed
no further anxiety. He’d lost the Bloodstone, his life’s mission.
And it had brought him here, which meant….

“Who took it? You were saying that I know.
What do I know?” Breanne kept her voice level in spite of the knots
of emotion tying her up inside.

“It will sound mad, but I feel its truth down
my bones, Breanne.” He stopped in front of her. The light of the
moon displayed his handsome features, showed his gaze come to rest
on her lips. “It was the cat. Finn.”

Breanne almost laughed. Had he said Finn had
robbed him of the Bloodstone? “How is that possible?”

“I do not know or care. But I do know it is
true. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. We need to find him before
he manages to unlock the Bloodstone’s secrets.”

“But, he’s just a cat. Did he pounce you
somehow?” She didn’t mean to sound overly incredulous.

“He stood as a man and moved faster than,
well, a wild cat. How, I cannot explain any more than I can explain
how you gained knowledge of the Bloodstone.”

Breanne’s mind turned like a key unlocking a
door to reveal a myriad of recollections that fit neatly together.
The picture it formed struck a new kind of fear through her. “Oh,
nay, please, not Danny.”

She turned back the way they’d come, ready to
sprint back to the hall and verify the boy was safe and that she
was wrong. But, Ashlon caught and held her to him.

“Aye, the cat has been using the boy, I
think, to do his ill. We must find them, Breanne.” His arms were
like warm, tender vices and she struggled against him. “They have
the Bloodstone.”

“You do not understand. Finn is not simply a
cat, he has been held under curse for more years than I can guess
and if he has been speaking to Danny ….”

“He is in danger. Aye, where would they be,
Breanne?” His chest was warm on her back, strong but yielding.

Breanne stopped struggling. She pushed
against the well of fear and anxiety to try to see more to the
puzzle. The woods that morning, Danny had come. Speaking not to
himself, but to Finn of the note. The sapphire cloak, the similar
height, the sorrowful trapped look in his young eyes as he told her
and Rose…. She cursed herself for not seeing it before, for
ignoring her suspicions.

He was just a boy and still so easily head
turned and eager to please. An enchanted talking cat would appeal
to his adventurous and romantic nature. But, where would Finn take
him and what possible use could he need of him now?

“You knew of Danny, then? You saw them
together,” she said, turning in his arms.

“Aye, in the yard, in the hall, near the
priory, the stables.”

Breanne added the locations to those already
listed in her head: the keep, the grove…. Breanne pulled back from
him, ignoring the protest of her limbs that craved his touch. “The
priory. Gannon had said as well that Finn had been about there when
I asked for his help with the translation. What have I done? It was
there, under my nose the entire time.”

Breanne could scream, her anguish flooded her
so.

Ashlon took her hand. He squeezed it. “We’ll
get to him in time. I promise you. You must focus on that, Breanne.
You must not consider any other option.” His hand cupped her cheek.
”It is the only way to get through it.”