by Mary Morgan
For the next several hours, the scenery blurred past them. Abela kept a slight distance behind Liam, ignoring the dwindling magic she used to keep the protective shield around them. As the land dipped below them, she noted the forest in the distance.
Liam brought his horse to a light canter. Coming alongside him, she shielded her eyes from the mid-afternoon sun.
“The O’Malley keeps to the trees, specifically the area known as Drewbrae. He considers this his land and retreats here until early summer.”
Dropping her hand, Abela asked, “You seem to know a great deal about this man. Have you had many dealings with him?”
Liam eyed her warily. “Many, and our last conversation did not end well.”
“Goodness.” Abela shifted uneasily on her horse. “What do you require from me? Are you presenting me as your betrothed?”
“Most definitely. Act submissively around me.”
She snorted. That will be a challenge.
“Again, this is a mission, and I’m presenting my case for the treaty. It will be fraught with difficulties, since I stated once I would require nothing from the man. You are merely on this journey to tour Ireland. To see the landscape of your ancestors.”
She nodded slowly. They were so close to obtaining the last treaty. “What clothing is appropriate?”
He looked at her for the first time since they left the cottage. “Dress as one of the lower houses of the Fae realm.” Leaning forward, he tapped the stone that was hidden beneath her cloak. “Embed the relic inside your gown. If they even suspect you’re garbed in finery or gems, they will snatch them from you. When offered drink or food, partake of small quantities only. Let the drink touch your lips and nibble on the food.”
Abela laughed nervously. “I do realize these people are cunning, but you’re acting as if they have more powers than we do.”
“Therein lies your mistake. I’ve witnessed the power in a curse and fought off the tempting lure of a melody at a campfire.”
A soft gasp escaped her. “Do they have magical capabilities? Where did they harness this power?”
He stiffened at the question. “We are in Ireland. There were some Fae who did mingle with the people before we descended underground. The elders are in agreement that the bloodline of the travelers is mixed with ours. Even a drop will produce a lasting effect in a human’s genealogy. However, I do trust the O’Malley and some of his people more than other clans.”
“Interesting,” she mused, sweeping her gaze to the trees. “I shall be on guard and weave a stronger thread of protection around us.”
“Only if you are strong enough. Do not tax yourself.” He reached out and grasped her hand.
Startled by the warmth of his touch, Abela darted a glance at where his fingers rested. “Have no fear, I have no desire to fall prey to their alluring charms.”
“Good. I believe it’s a few years in the future since I last visited with this clan. Let us move out of range, so you can change without prying eyes.”
Turning to leave, she asked, “Do you fear them, Liam?”
“I have learned on my many travels in this world to always be on guard around all humans. Yes, we are powerful, but not once have I underestimated these people. So heed my words, Abela.”
“I understand.”
After they found a place for her to transform into presentable clothing, Liam escorted her into the forest of Drewbrae. The energy she experienced earlier now cloaked her. Instantly, she whispered a stronger shield over them. A raven swept down from a branch, cawing as it flew over them.
“Eyes of the people,” Liam explained quietly.
She looked affronted. “It did not impart greetings like the others in the animal kingdom.”
Liam chuckled. “Because it has no need. It belongs to them.”
“I find this disturbing.”
“Curb the feelings and assumptions,” he warned and slowed his pace.
Light filtered through the canopy of trees, illuminating the path in front of them. The forest was devoid of birdsong, and a trickle of unease slid down her spine. She felt the sharp gaze of eyes from the humans within the trees.
After bringing his horse to a halt, Liam lifted his hand for her to move beside him. She complied, and they waited in silence. Were they waiting for him to speak? She knew they were observing them, so why the subterfuge?
Minutes ticked by, along with her impatience. She stole a glance at Liam, noting the rigid posture and tick in his lower jaw. This was almost as bad as waiting outside the gates for permission from King MacAlpin. Yet, she attributed that time to one of rudeness and the particular century.
Abela fought the smile when a whisper of greeting floated by her on a breeze. It came from a small child. Inwardly, she smiled. She could ill afford to acknowledge the wee human, yet. They had not been acknowledged by anyone, including the elusive O’Malley.
A swoosh of wings alerted her to the presence of the raven. The bird had returned, perching itself on a nearby branch. Its beady eyes surveyed her oddly. Tilting its head to the side, its gaze never wavered. Since the bird had not imparted a greeting, Abela returned her attention to the path in front of them.
The crunch of leaves signaled someone was coming. Finally. She was tempted to steal another look at Liam, but refrained.
Four men appeared, and two others stepped out from the trees on either side of them. Was this their welcoming committee or guards? She found their clothing vibrant among the greenery.
One of the men stepped forward. “State your business.”
“I request a meeting with the O’Malley,” replied Liam.
“Name?”
“Do not insult me in front of your men, Colm,” warned Liam, glaring at the man.
A sudden icy contempt flashed in the man’s eyes. “They are not familiar with ye, or your kind.”
Abela tore her gaze from the man called Colm to rest on Liam. His insult reflected in his tone, and she fought to hold her tongue. Were the Fae considered specimens among the travelers? To the others Liam appeared calm and composed, but she’d gamble all she owned that his mind was shouting vile obscenities at the man.
“Then introduce us.” Liam’s tone cut sharp as the steel he carried by his side.
Colm spit onto the ground. “Ranald, go tell O’Malley that Liam MacGregor requests an audience.”
As the man complied, he sent a leering look at Abela in passing. The other men nodded and made crude comments toward her as well. Some even went so far as to emulate vulgar gestures with their bodies. She fought the ire growing within her. Never in all her existence had she faced this type of barbaric behavior. Wrong, there was King MacAlpin, she chastised herself. But at least his manners were a wee bit more civil.
Liam steadied his hand on his blade as he swept his sight outward. “Do I misspeak when I say I thought the manners of the O’Malley clan were better than I have witnessed? To utter lewd comments and barbs to my betrothed brings dishonor to your people and leader.”
“No harm was done,” Colm argued, patting the man who instigated the remarks on the back.
“Ye are correct in your observation, MacGregor,” admitted a tall, muscular man striding forth.
His long, red hair was tied back, and Abela noted the deep crescent-shaped scar starting above his left brow and ending at his mouth. He strode with intent toward Colm and without warning, slammed a fist to the man’s jaw.
Abela gasped, unprepared for the assault on the man.
Colm staggered but remained standing. He rubbed a hand over his chin and lowered his head. “Forgive me, O’Malley.”
“If ye cannot control your men while on patrol, ye are of no use to me. Return to the camp.”
Colm gave O’Malley a curt nod, though he managed to glare daggers at Liam before he stormed through the trees.
“O’Malley turned toward Liam and folded his arms over his chest. “I am surprised to see ye on my lands and with your woman. I believe our last conversation
was a terse one.”
“Did you hear everything in the shadows of the trees? Are we welcome?” asked Liam, his face a mask of stone.
“Ye have never been banished, but since these are your rules—” He extended his arms, adding, “I bid ye welcome.” He took a step forward. “And the shadows have always provided excellent protection.”
Swiftly dismounting, Liam came to Abela’s side. He gave her a wink. Grabbing her around the waist, she let him help her dismount. He lifted her hand to O’Malley. “Before I discuss my reason for being here, may I present my betrothed, Abela. She has agreed to make this journey with me.”
O’Malley’s smile was disarming, and she found herself unable to resist by giving him one of her own. Allowing her hand to slip free from Liam’s hold, she allowed the man to take it in his grasp. O’Malley placed a kiss along her knuckles, though his eyes never left hers. “Abela.” He rolled her name off his tongue in a leisurely manner.
She dipped her head. “I am honored.”
He lifted a brow in challenge. “I cannot fathom why, since I believe the Fae consider they are far more superior.” Leaning near, he uttered softly, “Mayhap, ’tis only the men in your world?”
“I would not be privy, since this is my first time in your realm.” Abela struggled to contain her words. How she longed to speak more with this man, but Liam was correct. In just a few short minutes, she'd deduced his cunning character. Had he truly been watching them the entire time from the trees?
O’Malley took a step back and roared with laughter. Recovering his wits, he pointed a finger at Liam. “A wise and beautiful woman ye are marrying.”
“Thank you,” remarked Liam and placed a protective arm around her waist. His grip was firm and warm.
Abela stiffened, but managed to smile at O’Malley. “You are kind, sir.”
“Ahh…flattery is rewarded, Abela. Let us retreat to my camp. Surely ye can join us for a meal and drink. My men will fetch your horses.” The man continued to ramble on as he stooped beneath a cluster of pine branches and disappeared through the forest.
She stole a glance at Liam and he nodded. “Trust me. This will give us extended time to rest,” he whispered against her ear.
Abela pulled him aside. “Will I be there when you speak to him about the treaty?”
He shrugged. “It depends. Most of my conversations with O’Malley have been short, fueled by drink—limited on my part—questions about the world, and what he required by the way of assistance in handling a situation. Nevertheless, you have made an impression on him.”
“And this is good, right?” She frowned, pursing her lips.
“Yes, it is, but what troubles you?”
“Are ye coming?” O’Malley bellowed.
“Let us not tempt fate,” suggested Liam and started forward.
“Wait. I have one more question.”
“Which is?”
She darted a glance behind him to make sure O’Malley did not reappear. “Are all the human males crude when it comes to women? Their gazes wander to parts of our anatomy, instead of keeping their focus on our eyes. Why must they speak in vulgar languages? The animals who roam the land have more manners. It’s indecent and disrespectful, and I’m repulsed by human males.” Drawing in a shaky breath, she released it slowly. “At times I’d like to smack them, and you know I’m not prone to violence.”
Liam drew near. His eyes skimmed over her features. “No. It depends on the man, century, and what he has been taught. Here you will find the men love their women beneath them—for pleasure, along with other domestic duties.” He lifted a stray lock from her cheek, trailing a finger to her jawline. “You are beautiful, Abela, and it will take all my strength to keep from taking my blade to anyone leering at you during our time here.” Stepping back, he added, “Does this answer your question?”
Her face heated, unable to recall anything she’d said to him. He had a way of melting her to a puddle of honeyed ambrosia with his words and touch, and all she could do was agree. “Ye…yes.”
Smiling broadly, Liam turned and parted the branches for her. “After you, my love.”
For a moment, Abela could do nothing but gape at the man. Finally recovering her senses, she moved through the trees, realizing he was only playing the part of her beloved.
Once again, she told herself it was only a pretense.
Soon this madness will be over, and the vow I made to save you will end my duty to you.
Chapter Thirteen
“My word given in loyalty shall always remain. If I break the promise, it’s because you have leveled the blade against my heart.”
~Chronicles of Liam MacGregor
The crowd parted in hushed tones as Liam and Abela entered the clearing keeping a close pace behind O’Malley. Caravans and tents were sprawled out in a circular fashion with their leader’s wagon tucked under a huge pine tree.
Their reaction to Abela was disturbing. Some actually dipped a curtsy, especially the young children. Had they sensed her true identity? Or were they enchanted by her beauty? What was he thinking bringing a Fae female amongst these people? Abela was stunning, even in her simple garments. Even though Liam towered over these people, he realized many had never seen a woman of her height.
But he could not have left her wandering the countryside by herself. Nor would she allow Liam to be separated from her. I should have waited until you had rested and attempted to travel through the Veil of Ages. This is madness being here.
Stealing a glance at her, he saw she was smiling. One of the wee girls had dashed out to present Abela with a bunch of foxgloves. The princess gracefully bent down and accepted the gift. Murmuring soft words of appreciation, she stood and continued walking alongside him.
He reached out and touched one of the flowers. “They mirror the lovely shade of your eyes.”
Abela looked stunned at his comment. “Thank you.”
Did she not understand he spoke the truth? He gently moved her away from the crowd and to the wagon belonging to O’Malley.
As they entered the wagon, another woman approached and gestured for Abela to take a place on a bench away from the men. O’Malley was speaking quietly to two other men—one his brother, Malcolm, and the other his strongest guard, Adam MacDonald.
“It is their custom that the women are not involved with the politics of the men,” Liam uttered softly.
“Of course. I shall observe from a distance,” she reassured him.
He brushed a kiss along her cheek and drew back. Her lips parted in invitation, and Liam quickly averted his gaze. This is only a ruse, Abela. Yet, he deemed the statement was more for his well-being and not hers.
“I have been working on a batch of wine for the Midsummer. Would ye care to sample a cup?” asked O’Malley as he settled himself along the cushioned bench.
“Definitely,” Liam acknowledged, taking a seat across from the man.
“Midsummer?” Abela blurted out, clutching a hand to her chest.
Her outburst brought the light conversation to a halt.
“Surely ye were aware of the season,” declared O’Malley, handing Liam a cup of wine, though his gaze was leveled on Abela.
“Our travels have been many, and my beloved lost track of the seasons,” stated Liam, giving her a reassuring grin. By the hounds! How could he have misplaced the season? It was one of the primary ones for the Fae and the priestesses.
Abela placed her hands in her lap. “You are correct, Liam. When you are done, I shall require time alone.”
Giving her a curt nod, he reined in the questions he longed to toss out at her. Returning his attention to O’Malley, he asked, “How soon to Midsummer?”
The man’s mouth twitched in humor. “Three days. I assume ye will want to take your leave before then to return for your own celebrations.”
“Indeed.”
O’Malley took a sip from his cup. “What do ye seek, MacGregor?”
Good. I have no time for small talk.
“I require your Treaty of Feahan. I am preparing an amendment in regards to traveling through the Veil of Ages.”
The man drained his cup and placed it on the table. His gaze was sharp and assessing. Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned back. “Am I the first ye have visited?”
“No.” Liam surveyed him over the rim of his cup.
“Second?”
“Last.”
He dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “This conversation is for my ancestor, Niall.”
Liam brought the cup to his mouth, letting the wine brush against his lips. The tart fruit teased him to take more, but he set the cup on the table. “I am unable to talk with him at this time. Niall is on another path in regard to religion. I have no wish to descend at a time when he might consider us heathen individuals.”
O’Malley shrugged. “Then find the right year. Ye should not be asking this request from me.”
Liam placed his hands on the wooden table. “Time is critical. I seek to bring justice for another—”
“Fae?” interrupted O’Malley. “I am not interested in your affairs.”
Technically, Aidan Kerrigan was mortal. “It is for both human and Fae,” he countered.
“I find this amusing.” Refilling his cup, O’Malley swirled the contents. “Ye and your brother were so arrogant. Now ye come here making demands.”
“No. A simple request. Ye can either help us or not. This is your choice.”
O’Malley pounded his fist onto the table. “Nothing is simple with the Fae.”
“Might I remind you of the times we have assisted you and your people?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Have ye come for payment of your deeds?”
Liam pushed the cup away. “On the contrary, I am asking for aid in this matter.”
Adam leaned near the man and whispered into O’Malley’s ear. Though the man showed no signs of relenting, a smile curved his features. He gave Adam a curt nod. “These are difficult times for my people. Are ye willing to barter for the treaty?”