Star Crossed

by Christine Young

  He grinned, a devilishly rakish smile. "I think the O'Connell's stole a pot of gold from the Shaunaseys then one of the Shaunaseys kidnapped a young O'Connell lass. Must have been the influence of the fae folk."

  Casey clenched her fists. "Both of you--I've had enough of the lot of you. Fighting on the Sabbath, drinking in the taverns on Friday nights and now making up farfetched stories. I can find my own way home, thank you." She lifted her skirts and stomped down the hill, her shoulders squared and her mind shouting to her she must find out the truth.

  ~ * ~

  "If they only knew the entire story," Moya said with a little laugh. "We'd be havin' a wee rebellion on our hands."

  "You're not going to be telling them now are you?" Oran trailed along behind Moya who had decided to follow Casey home. She didn't have a problem with a trick or two but she didn't trust Patrick, Casey's brother. Nor did she trust FlorenceMcAffe's mischievous pagan faerie Godfather, Conn.Florence was a suitor of Casey's and she didn't like that one little bit. Nor did she trust Oran. Sometimes, when her brother got carried away with his teasing, he forgot the higher purpose.

  ~ * ~

  "Better go after her," Kelly said to Patrick's back as he raked his fingers through his hair and watched her retreating back.

  "Don't be tellin' me what to do," Patrick said as he took the proffered advice and stepped quickly after his sister who was bound to find a pack of trouble on her way home.

  Casey heard Patrick's steps thundering behind her, but she kept walking. Tears formed in the back of her throat, and her fists clenched as she grew more determined to leave her meddlesome brother behind her.

  Patrick caught Casey, his hand resting on her shoulder to slow her rapid escape from the scene of her most recent humiliation. "Slow down. You're movin' so fast the ground is bound to catch fire."

  "Leave me alone. Haven't you done enough?" She didn't want to dwell on her simmering emotions at the moment, and she didn't want to acknowledge her embarrassment.

  "Ah, Casey, I don't have a clue what you are talking about." He lifted his hand from her shoulder and paused mid-stride.

  "Don't you?" she whirled on her older brother. "I won't ever be able to show my face again." She inhaled a long deep breath wishing she could slow her heart beat and erase the curious feelings coursing through her. Something had happened on that grassy knoll, and it had changed her forever.

  Patrick stepped back a moment and looked hard at Casey, his brows furrowing together. He cocked his head a bit sideways then to the other side a slow, arrogant and horrific grin crossed his handsome features. "Why, lil' sis, you've fallen hard--and for a Shaunasey. You fancy yourself in love."

  She looked away and tried to start walking but Patrick gripped her arm. "Don't waste your time, Casey. You know what father would say. He won't allow this--ever!"

  She blinked and tried to whisk away the tears without Patrick seeing them. He caught her chin with one finger and forced her to look at him. "I mean it, Casey. He's the wrong kind. You know it and he knows it. It isn't just the feud, he's Protestant. There is no way in h…"

  She wrestled her arm away from her brother and raced away, blindly dodging the foot traffic in front of her, tears flowing freely. She bumped off several people before her brother caught up to her again.

  "Bloody hell," he muttered. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? That cart nearly ran you over. You should be locked in your room, just to keep you safe."

  Casey turned on her brother, stared at him, wondering what she could say. Everything that came to mind had defensive conations. She didn't need or want to defend herself against something that wasn't true.

  "Bloody hell, yourself," she whispered to the thinning sunlight. Bloody hell.

  "Casey," she heard him cry out as she stepped into the street without looking. A horse whizzed by and toppled her to the ground. She sat on the cobblestone, her ego bruised and battered and her heart shattered into a million tiny slivers.

  "I'm not in love with anyone," she told her brother as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I am not in love."

  He thinks I'm a little girl.

  ~ * ~

  "What a temptation," Kelly muttered, watching Patrick chase after Casey. A chill-premonition swept through him as the sun hid behind a cloud. "The feud was something everyone accepted as a way of life. What had it been all about?" he muttered. "What difference did it make now when no one could remember what it was? Our families hate each other. She is Catholic and I would never convert."

  A grumbling behind him brought him abruptly back to reality. "Let's go, Kelly."

  "Go ahead. I'll be right there." Kelly waved his friends away, wishing time to think. In those few moments she'd touched him as no other woman ever had. Thinking about Casey O'Connell put a grin on his face, a puzzle in his heart, and a burning need to discover more about her.

  Kelly stood with his hands clasped behind his back on top of the grassy hill and gazed into the city. A soft spring breeze changed to a chilling wind and the bright sky changed to a grey overcast. A mist formed high in the sky slowly dropping to the earth as the day slowly changed to dusk.

  All the reasons he shouldn't be feeling a burning heat of desire from their brief encounter flashed though his mind. She was a little girl--no, she was eighteen years old. Their families hated each other--had since long before either one of them had been born. She was Catholic. He was Protestant. Despite the dawning of new times, any relationship between the two of them would be frowned upon.

  Crazy fool--relationship? They'd just met.

  Kelly threw a rock he'd been holding. The missile sailed through the air before landing in a dense growth of bushes. He kicked at a rock, reveling in the pain and wishing he could think of something else, anything beside the feel of Casey O'Connell in his arms. He closed his eyes and let the wind whisper across his face. The gentle caress was unforgiving and unrelenting.

  "Little Bro!" His brother must have lost patience. "Kelly," the cry penetrated his mind as the wind was knocked from him for the second time today.

  "Ummph!"

  The pair tumbled down the hill, rolling, squirming, one getting the better of the other then the roles reversed. On and on the game continued until finally they both lay sprawled on their back staring at the darkening heavens and gasping for air.

  Kelly blew a wayward piece of hair from his eyes while he watched the clouds dance across the sky, "What was all that about?"

  "Pinin' away like some lovesick fool. I thought I taught you better than that," Liam said with a bit of a chuckle.

  "Not lovesick or a fool," Kelly said, but he wondered at the truth of his brother's words. He'd never thought to fall in love--wasn't sure love wasn't just a tale made up by poets and writers.

  "Good, I was worried for you," Liam stood and held out his hand to help his brother up, a devilish grin plastered on his mouth.

  "Think I'm going to fall for that trick?" Kelly asked as he leapt quickly to his feet, ignoring the proffered hand.

  "I'm a better teacher than even I thought," Liam laughed as he strode toward the city, sidestepping the path home.

  "Arrogant son of a--"

  "I'll buy you a brew at the Black Goat," Liam offered as he turned to look over his shoulder. "You coming?"

  "It's Sunday." Kelly's protest was feeble. He knew he would join his brother and would regret it at dawn when he rolled from his bed.

  "We have some celebrating to do."

  "And what would that be," Kelly asked as he caught up to his brother, matching him stride for stride.

  "You conquered your first thoughts of true love--came out on the winning end--no leg shackle for you."

  "You buy then I'll buy." Kelly laughed, knowing his brother meant well but feeling doomed to a headache and a sick stomach come morning.

  Inside the smoky room the two brothers chose to sit at the bar. The light was muted, the noise a low rumble, and the scent of stale beer and cigars lingered.

  "You aren't
planning on seeing the lass," Liam said as he sipped the brew in front of him. "That would not be wise of you."

  Kelly's brother's statement hit him in the chest with the force of a Scottish tabor. "Of course not," he said while he mulled over possible ways to do the opposite.

  "Why am I thinkin' you're lyin' to me?" Liam swiveled on his chair his eyes narrowing as if he tried to read Kelly's mind.

  ~ * ~

  Conn sat on the bar sipping a glass of the best of the Black Goat's ale when Oran sat down beside him.

  "What are you doin' here?" Oran asked, fearing he already knew the answer. Oran was pure pagan and he'd cursed his charge. But that didn't explain anything at the moment.

  "Just wantin' to understand the competition."

  "What's that supposed to mean," Oran growled, knowing if his fears gave rise to the truth, he and Moya would have an bigger challenge on their hands than just bringing these two humans together.

  "And you're thinkin' I'd be wantin' to explain myself to the likes of you?" Conn laughed, and to Oran's ears the sound was pure evil.

  ~ * ~

  "What? Oh, I'm not. I never had any intention of seeing the lass. She's a little girl," he said, flexing his hand around the mug of ale in front of him and remembering the feel of her breasts against his chest and his hands around her waist.

  "Her breasts don't look like those of a little girl," Liam said with a low whistle. Liam reached out and stopped Kelly from raising his glass to his lips. For a few more seconds Liam stared hard at Kelly.

  "I don't know what you want, Liam. I'm in complete agreement with you. She's a little girl--not interested in little girls." But Kelly's heart raced and he felt the flush of his lie.

  "Words won't convince me," Liam said, drinking the last of his ale and waving his hand to order another.

  "Ah, you've always been a man of action," Kelly said. When he closed his eyes he saw her, saw her hair flowing around her shoulders, saw her lips, her eyes, and he could feel her as if she was in the room with him.

  "You too. Stay away, Kelly," Liam warned.

  "Or what?"

  The sip of ale Liam was about to swallow stuck in his throat. He choked. "Or I'll stop you."

  Chapter Two

  "Where is my daughter?" Lady O'Connell asked Casey's long time nurse, Sarah.

  "I'm sure she is on her way," Sarah said, wringing her hands in dismay. "She would not be wantin' to displease you."

  "Here I am, mother," Casey waltzed into the room, wearing a stunning, blue day dress. "I had to change for dinner. What is it you want?"

  "Where were you this afternoon? I went looking for you and couldn't find you. No one knew where you were."

  Casey paused mid-stride, her shoulders squaring. She wasn't ready to talk about the brief encounter she'd had with Kelly Shaunasey or the revelation no one in her family or his knew what the feud was about. "I went for a walk."

  "Where?" her mother asked with a raised eyebrow as if she already knew. Lady O'Connell continued with her cross-stitch.

  Casey smiled. "Around," she said and sat down next to her mother, smoothing her skirts and gazing out the window.

  "You should have come home after church. You have your reputation to consider. Young women do not run around town unescorted--without a chaperone. People will talk about you in ways we don't want then you won't be able to find a suitable husband."

  "They talk about everyone anyway," Casey said and popped a lemon tart into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully while tearing her gaze from the scene outside to study the expression on her mother's face.

  "Really, Casey, have some respect for yourself." Her mother's pursed lips and white knuckles around the frame she held told Casey she'd been a wee bit flippant. Her mother deserved her respect.

  "It's not the way it sounds but you know it is true. I walked up the hill south of town and watched the clouds dance across the grassy knoll." At least that part was true.

  "Not north?" her mother asked, staring at Casey so hard she choked on the lemon tart and had to grab a cup of tea to wash the crumbs from the back of her throat.

  "South," Casey mumbled, feeling the heat climb up her cheeks at her lie. Well, she'd been chastised forever when she couldn't tell north from south. Her mother should believe her. But then her mother questioned her incessantly ever since she turned thirteen, never giving her a moment's peace.

  "No scraped knees to show for the walk?" her mother asked with a certain knowing tone that frightened Casey.

  Casey looked quickly around the room. Only her nurse Sarah and her mother were there. She lifted the hem of her dress to show her mother. "No scraped knees," she parroted and grinned, feeling relieved she hadn't totally embarrassed herself.

  "Thank God," it seemed her mother heaved a quick sigh of what could only be considered as relief. "Your tomboy days should have been over years ago. Climbing trees and swimming in the pond are not acceptable pastimes for young ladies."

  "Mother, you know I'm not and never have been a tomboy. You just don't want to acknowledge the fact your only daughter is clumsy and more awkward than anyone you have ever known." Casey nodded, knowing full well God had nothing to do with this. And if her mother saw the grass stains on her Sunday dress, she'd swoon. Well, maybe she wouldn't swoon but she'd ask more questions, questions Casey didn't know how to answer without giving her thoughts about a certain young man named Kelly Shaunasey away.

  "She is an embarrassment to her big brother," Patrick said as he sauntered into the room, a devilishly handsome grin plastered on his face. "Always stumbling or causing a scene from which I have to rescue her."

  "You're unusually rude," Casey said, immediately regretting her hasty words to her over-arrogant and way too handsome brother. He held her lie in the palm of his hands. If he coughed up the truth of her whereabouts this afternoon, she'd be confined to her upstairs room until her twenty-first birthday or until her mother found someone suitable for her to marry.

  "Ah, but you are so cute when you turn that gorgeous shade of crimson," Patrick said, a smug expression on his face. He lounged in a chair, one arm tossed over the back and one leg sprawled out in front of him. Sarah brought him a glass of whiskey from the sideboard. All the while he studied her enough that she squirmed in her seat.

  "Stop fidgeting," her mother told her, still working on her stitchery without an upward glance. How on earth did the woman know she was fidgeting when she didn't look at her? "You're a young lady now and you need to act like one. Sit still."

  Her brother coughed and wiped the drops of whiskey from his chin with a linen handkerchief he'd been given by someone who was sweet on him, as he'd told her one day. His knowing grin when he directed his attention at Casey sent a shiver of fear up her spine.

  Casey smoothed her skirts and glared at her brother, wrinkling up her nose, trying to silently tell him she knew secrets about him far worse than anything he could tell their mother about her.

  "Where did you go today, Casey?" Patrick asked a bit of an all-knowing-sneer crossing his face, his expression devilish.

  "None of your business, brother dearest," Casey told him, clasping her hands in her lap and staring pointedly at him, willing him to read her dangerous thoughts and the imaginary daggers she sent his way.

  "Oh, but I think it is," he said, his voice whiskey smooth, a bland smile on his lips.

  "Children, stop quibbling. You're acting as if you are six years old," Lady O'Connell said. "Casey, dear, I've arranged a recital for Tuesday night. You will play and sing and you, Patrick, will attend with a smile on your face," she paused, "and you will be on your absolute best behavior--no pranks."

  "Mother," they both cried in unison.

  Casey cleared her throat, "I cannot play anything and you know it. I'm horrid. Our friends will run from the room with their hands over their ears in terror they will lose their hearing." Casey's voice was calmer than her rapid heartbeat and racing pulse. "You cannot mean to humiliate me so.

  "She's horr
id," Patrick agreed. "I for one will not be able to acknowledge she is my sister if you put her through such an embarrassing scene." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I do believe I will find something else to do that evening."

  Lady O'Connell shot Patrick a withering heated look that to Casey said, you will not and if you do, I will find a way to make you regret it. But she didn't so much as speak a word.

  "I cannot carry a tune nor can I hit the right little ivory keys. Oh, what a nightmare," she felt tears rising in her throat, and she wished she'd catch a cold then perhaps her mother would take pity on her. "I will embarrass all of you and not by choice. I'd rather eat lemons than sing and play."