Star Crossed

by Christine Young

  Star Crossed

  Christine Young

  Published by Rogue Phoenix Press

  Copyright © 2012

  ISBN: 978-1-936403-73-0

  Electronic rights reserved by Rogue Phoenix Press, all other rights reserved by the author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law. This is a work of fiction. People and locations, even those with real names, have been fictionalized for the purposes of this story.

  Chapter One

  Ireland 1816

  The ring of knuckles hitting flesh thundered through the brilliant spring morning. Casey O'Connell lifted her skirts and raced up the little knoll behind the old white church. She knew her big bro was fighting. They always fought after church on Sunday. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.

  "No! Stop it, I say. Patrick O'Connell, you--" Breathing hard Casey barreled through the ring of brawling men.

  "Of course, Casey, anything you say," her brother and his friends laughed as he stepped aside.

  "Get him, Casey! Land a punch for your big brother and St. Patrick," one of the young men called out.

  "The O'Connell's are getting their women folk to fight their battles now?"

  "I'll have your head for that, Shaunasey," another joined in.

  "Watch your mouth and where you're a starin' or you'll have a black eye so swollen you won't be able to see."

  "Woo--eee!" The brawl escalated then seemed to settle around Casey and her off-balance charge through her brother's foes.

  Surrounding her she heard raucous cheers, cat calls, and whistles as well as her name. Her arms flailing, she ignored them all and tried desperately to keep her balance.

  "Hmph!" She hit hard--a solid rock of muscle--heard the slightest grunt from the object in front of her. Air rushed from her lungs and stars seemed to circle inside her head.

  "Oh…" she wailed as the object she hit cradled her with his arms on their way to the dampness of the ground below. Dizziness overwhelmed her. She let her head rest on a muscled chest. She heard a slow even heartbeat then a low rumble of laugher.

  ~ * ~

  Moya sat on the softest of flower petals, watching the scene unfold. Oran sat on another petal, cocking his head sideways in scrutiny, his manly features grimacing with disgust. For a quick moment, Moya let her gaze rest on the young men behind the couple, wishing she dared play a trick on them to shoo them away.

  "Do you think these two will ever get it right?" Moya asked smiling at her best friend and older brother. A wee spell to send the others on their way wouldn't be such a bad idea.

  "I'm not holding my breath," Oran said, brushing a piece of lint from his clothes and looking to the sky as if seeking divine intervention.

  "She is lying on top of her true love. What more could she wish for?" Moya sighed, clasping her hands together and enjoying the pure romance as well as the knowledge it was her doing that had brought Casey to the knoll this fine day.

  "A little shower of pixie dust? Or maybe a pinch would be enough?" Oran asked a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm thinking they may be needin' more enchantment. They are hell bent on getting this all wrong."

  "We have to give them more time. Humans are so--soo--sooo--" Moya let her eyes close, searching for the right word to describe humans. My god, but they were impossible, always ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  "Inept?" Oran asked. "Would that be the word you are lookin' for little sis?"

  "Foolish with their hearts," Moya told him, trying to give the couple in front of them the benefit of the doubt. Her heart beat hard beneath her breast, her pulse racing in anticipation of Casey finally finding happiness.

  "Stupid," Oran shot back with a snort.

  "This is the first time they've actually spoken to each other," Moya said, looking wistfully at the two soon-to-be, young lovers. "We knew this wouldn't be easy."

  "After all the times we cast spells to put them together, they should be married with children, not rolling around in the grass," Oran said, a note of disgust in his voice. He sighed heavily, casting his gaze again heavenward.

  Moya smiled, her dainty hands rested beside her on the lavender flower, her silvery wings moving lazily behind her, "Like it or not, humans rolling around in the grass often times begets children," she told Oran while she laughed at her words and the ancient wisdom.

  "You be knowin' what I mean. Don't be twisting my words." Oran hovered over the flower, ready to take flight, his wings beating rapidly, his annoyance obvious.

  Moya knew she needed to assuage his feelings and apologize. But she didn't think she had anything to apologize for. "Sit down, Oran. We need to stay put in case they need us. More than likely they will."

  "Hmmph." Oran sat back on the flower, crossing his arms in front of him, an elfish glare on his handsome features. "When has a human ever admitted to needin' one of the fae folk?"

  "Don't be so fickle, Oran. We both know it's not in their nature to be askin' for advice."

  ~ * ~

  Casey pushed on the green grass, trying to unwind herself from the man beneath her, but fell again. All right, Casey lass, you're in a heap of trouble right now with no way out. You are seeing the earth whirl and tumble around and you're on top of a brute of a man--a Protestant.

  "All right, lads, we'll meet here next Sunday, same place, same time," her brother's voice filtered through the air as if it floated in the fog that surrounded Casey.

  Once again she pushed on the damp grass and didn't seem to make headway, her arms feeling as if they'd changed to soggy twine. Don't you abandon me, Patrick O'Connell. You know I have the Devil's own luck. If you leave me here, I'll never forgive you.

  "What about Casey?" one of her brother's friend asked. "She looks a little worse for the encounter."

  "Do you think we should leave her here--with Kelly?"

  "He's a right stand-up guy. Of course you can leave her here. We'll see her home," a Shaunasey said.

  "Well, Kelly is a fine bloke. He won't hurt her. In fact with my feisty lil' sister involved, I fear for him--not her," Patrick said laughing. "She'll do as she pleases. She always does. How can I control her when father cannot? She does not need a second father." He shrugged his shoulder and looked behind him at his little sister as he strolled down the hill.

  "She's hurt," another friend called after Patrick. "What kind of brother are you?"

  "One who is tired of looking after an accident prone little lass. She has to take responsibility for herself sometime, does she not?"

  "She is that," one commented. "You rescue her night and day."

  ~ * ~

  "You should have blessed her with a wee bit o'Irish coordination," Oran said dryly as he flew to a hovering position near the girl.

  "And you should remember what our blessed mother told us, 'if you cannot say anythin' nice, don't say anything at all'." Moya rose above the flower petal, her wings buzzing with her anger toward her brother.

  "I didn't say anything that wasn't the truth." Oran whistled out of tune for a moment. "We could kidnap them."

  "And that is your solution to everything?" Moya pointed one finger at him and shook it. "Why, Oran, I believe you may fancy the lass for yourself. I will not have it. Go play your tricks on someone else's charge. She is mine to see to safety and long life. And don't be forgettin' the lad is yours to watch over."

  "You best stem your anger, Moya. You're wings have turned golden," Oran said with a hearty chuckle.

  ~ * ~

  "Let Kelly handle her," Casey's brother said with a light chuckle. "He lost and so he must deal with the object of that loss and assume the consequences. It's only fair."

  "Hey!" Kelly s
aid, "Don't leave me here with your sister. It will be hell to pay. She's a little girl. What will your father say?"

  The others laughed. "Just don't take too long to decide what to do with her. Little girl or not, father will come after you with his pistol."

  I just turned eighteen years old--little girl--how dare he…

  "Bloody hell, Patrick. What are you thinking?" Kelly cried out.

  "I'm thinking the Catholics won this fight. What are you thinking?" Patrick turned his back on the pair and whistled a jaunty tune as he strolled down the hill.

  "Revenge will be sweet. Next Sunday…" Kelly shook his fist at the departing back of Casey's brother.

  From what seemed like a great distance Casey heard the moan emanating from inside her battered and bruised body. She squished her eyes together, wishing her head didn't pound so fiercely, and the ground spin so wildly. "Who are you?" she whispered next to the man's chest while a soft spring breeze whispered against her heated face.

  "Who am I?" the man chuckled. "Lass, you are the one who landed atop me. I should be inquiring into who you are? Only I know." His hands rested around her waist and squeezed as if he were testing--perhaps exploring--entirely inappropriate. Yet for some strange reason, Casey didn't mind the supposed to be unwanted attention. "And I don't think your brother should have left you here with the likes of me. I'm afraid I've landed myself in a dangerous predicament. And I'm thinkin' one that will be very hard to explain."

  "Shame on you," Casey said. "You take liberties." The words stole her breath and she had to lean on Kelly once more in order to minimize the pounding of her head and the strange feelings emanating from where his hands were.

  "I only want to remove you from--my--ah--person. And if I were taking liberties with you, lass, you'd be near swooning with passion."

  "Ah, it seems you are a wee bit arrogant," she opened her eyes and gazed into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. "The color of a summer sky," she whispered to him, still feeling woozy and not quite sure what he'd just told her--but thinking at the moment something besides the fall caused the earth to spin and the sky to tilt with a crazy, wild abandon.

  "What is, lass?"

  "Your eyes," she said, struggling against him and finally rolling to the side so she lay sprawled on the grass, staring into the sky she'd referred to a moment earlier and watching a white billowy cloud float past. "I'm not a little girl," she told him. "Don't ever call me that again."

  "Then you want me to tell lies?" he asked with a lazy half-smile that stole Casey's heart and left her floundering. "I dinna think I can do that."

  "It isn't a lie," she said, trying to sound indignant, yet frustrated beyond anything she'd ever felt before.

  ~ * ~

  "Little girl! What can he be thinking?" Moya's fingers twitched, her wings had changed to a pure gold color. Her body shuddered, her face had turned scarlet.

  "Calm yourself, it was just a wee suggestion I be makin' to the lad. If this love thing is too easy, they won't be understandin' each other the way they ought to." Oran grinned from ear to ear as he flew close to his sister. If finding true love and your soul mate is too easy, well…

  The taunt didn't go unnoticed by Moya. She turned from him with arms crossed in front of her and calculated the damage she could do to the lad, just enough to get even. She turned back to her brother. "So you be thinkin' this shouldn't be easy are you? What if findin' each other is so hard they give up? Have you been thinkin' of that?"

  Oran fluttered back an inch or two. "What mischief have you been dreamin' o'? No more spells or enchantment," he warned.

  She smiled, turning her head in a calculating manner but didn't say anything.

  "Moya," Oran's voice turned gruff.

  "I be thinkin' surprises are infinitely more fun when you know the outcome ahead of time. For now you best be retrievin' Casey's brother. We don't want her compromised before the wedding. Go on Oran; find a way to bring the young man back. Cast a spell or sprinkle some pixie dust on him--remind him he's her brother and he's responsible for her well-bein'."

  ~ * ~

  The heat from the afternoon sun felt wonderful--enchanting--dreamy. When she tried to sit up, the earth whirled around her again. She wanted to feel indignant but she'd brought this on herself. She didn't quite understand why she wanted to convince this arrogant oaf she wasn't a little girl.

  "You mind telling me why you tackled me?" he asked.

  Casey turned her head to look at the young man. He leaned on one elbow, nonchalantly plucking a blade of grass and sticking it in his mouth. His dark black hair appeared rakishly windblown and his grin was bordered by dimples on both sides. She had the craziest urge to reach up and trace the line of his lips with her finger.

  "I don't believe in fighting," she said. "It's absolutely stupid for the bunch of you to come out here on the Sabbath and fight when the rest of the week you are all bosom buddies."

  "Stupid, you say?" he queried. "You dare to call me stupid?" he laughed and extended his hand. "Let me help you up. I don't think I'm ready to meet your dah with pistols on the dueling field. So I think I'd best be seeing you home."

  An inferno swept through Casey. She didn't know if she still reeled from the impact or if the dizziness was something else--something magical--something supernatural. When he looked at her, she trembled and her face heated. She touched her hands to her cheeks. They felt cold and clammy. Afraid if he touched her again she might melt, she stared at a puffy cloud floating whimsically overhead.

  He bent closer to her. The scent of mint filled the tiny space between them.

  "You all right? Did you hear what I said?" he asked, touching a finger to the pulse throbbing at her neck. She tried to bat his hand away even while her heartbeat pounded faster, and she couldn't inhale a decent breath of air.

  "Stop it," he said, and paused for a moment in his assessment of her health. "I think you will live."

  "Of course I will and I can find my own way home. I'm eighteen. I turned two months ago."

  "That old?" He laughed and she wanted to escape. Yet some little demon inside told her he was the last person she wanted to hide from. She felt as if her body had been taken over by something unearthly, something mysterious or filled with enchantment.

  "You're going to have a black eye," she said and touched the bruise forming around his eye. "Does it hurt?"

  "Come on, lass," he said still holding out his hand and sidestepping her question.

  "You're ignoring me," she told him, getting up without accepting his hand and dusting off hers on her skirt.

  "My apologies," he laughed, bowing slightly laugh lines crinkling his brow. "It only hurts when you remind me of it."

  "Then I won't be reminding you," she said quickly.

  "Casey," her brother said as he rounded the top of the hill. "You coming or do you mean to dawdle here all day?"

  She jumped and pressed her fingers along her skirts to smooth them all the while feeling not a wee bit guilty, but a whole lot guilty. And I have nothing to feel ashamed of. "What are you doing here? I thought you left me to fend for myself," Casey said feeling a moment of loss at the thought her brother would be walking her home and not Kelly.

  "I took pity on Mr. Shaunasey," he said with a low chuckle and a wink cast toward the other young man. "I wanted him to survive the day so we can fight again next week. A few moments in your clutches could be the end of him, if you know what I mean?"

  At the sound of Kelly's last name, Casey felt the blood drain from her face. She turned to look at the man who had made her heart pound and her stomach turn over in somersaults. "Shaunasey," she whispered. She no longer had angry words for her brother.

  "I don't need anyone's pity--especially the likes of an O'Connell," Kelly said, his voice a low growl and his hands fisting at his sides.

  Casey looked to Kelly then back to her brother then back to Kelly as the realization of just who she had been lying on top of in the green grass and having thoughts she just shouldn'
t have been having. Shaunasey…

  "Can't be having the likes of a Shaunasey escorting my lil' Casey home," Patrick said, mocking the situation and what might have happened if his friends had not coerced him to return and make sure his sister made it home unscathed.

  Casey stepped forward, one finger poking her brother in the chest. "Do you even know what the feud is about, Patrick O'Connell? Do you?"

  Patrick shook his head then shrugged his shoulders. "Am I supposed to care? The O'Connell's hate the Shaunaseys. What else is there?"

  "A reason," she said with a touch of fury in her voice, her face flushed with heat. She was outraged he would think to carry on a feud such as this one. She turned on Kelly. "Do you know? Do you care that generations of our families have hated each other and no one understands how or why all this started."