Forbidden Fate (Sisters of Danu Book 1)

by Mia Pride

  Panic infused Gwynneth’s mind, giving her a strong urge to run into the woods and chase Liam down. She had to find him and make this right. “What have I done? We must go find him!” her voice was shrill as she jumped out of her seat and started toward the door. She could only pray she had not destroyed her last chance at happiness forever.

  “Nay, Tis too late. He’s long gone.” Duncan placed a hand on her shoulder, “Liam loves ye, My Lady, and he will never stop, not ever. He has stayed with ye all this time, out of love and concern. But, his tuath needs him, as well. He wanted to go where he felt needed…wanted.”

  Gwynneth was growing more frantic with every breath. She could barely breathe before her words stumbled from her numb lips, “I need to go after him! I never meant for him to leave! Och, what have I done? Duncan, come with me, please! Or I will go alone!” Her panic was spilling over as she paced back and forth while her hands shook.

  “Gwynneth, I promised to keep ye safe. And tonight is not a safe night to travel. It is Samhain and the night will be filled with spirits, mischief-making faeries, as well as drunken revelers. We don’t know where Baine and his men are. Liam thinks they went back to the tuath to declare him dead and take the crown. But we don’t know for certain and we need a party to travel with. Nobody will agree to go tonight. Nay, we must wait for the morrow.” He shook his head with firm resolve.

  Just as Gwynn was readying herself to argue, Abigael added, “The druid has come all this way to see two of the Sisters of Danu reunited. He has the full prophecy to tell, more than even I know.” She paused, stressing her next words. “He knows how to find your other sister, Gwynneth. You and Ceara need to know that. You both will have to find her, and soon. Stay, listen, gather a travelling party, and come up with a plan. If Liam is your destiny, everything will work out.”

  Gwynneth just sighed. There was no hope arguing with such strong logic and she knew she could not go without help. “It makes me sick to have to wait, knowing Liam is out there alone, and it is completely my fault.”

  “He will be fine, Gwynn. He is a strong warrior, shrewd hunter, and knows how to survive,” King Garreth added reassuringly. “Go back to Abigael’s to get some rest. Enjoy the festivities tonight and we will gather men to depart with you at first light.” His smile was confident and authoritative. Realizing how very tired she was, Gwynneth obeyed and walked out with Abigael. She turned to look back at her sister and saw Ceara nodding at her consolingly. She had a family now, and they would not let her down. With that hopeful thought, Gwynneth looked forward to a hot bath and a nap before the festival

  Chapter 17

  Liam’s blood was boiling as he left King Garreth’s home. In his furor, he had wanted to storm out of the village and head straight back home, never looking back, but his ever-present logic told him he needed to speak with Duncan before he left.

  “I cannot take it, anymore!” He had shouted as he barged into the stuffy, smoke-filled room as Duncan and the King were discussing plans to travel back to Iverni at dawn. “The woman has said she cannot marry me…again! Of all the…” his voice trailed off, completely out of new insults, having mentally abused them all in quick succession during his fury-filled walk over to the house.

  “I’m leaving, Duncan, right now. I cannot stay another night in torment as she plays tricks with my mind! She is nothing more than a temptress! Making promises of love and then taking them away!” His hands clenched into tight fists, the knuckles turning white as he looked around for a target to release his frustration on. Finding nothing suitable, he resorted to grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging until his eyes watered. “I’m going back to where I’m needed. I’m sorry to abandon you, brother.” Liam searched Duncan’s face for any sign of anger. Seeing none, he felt safe to continue his tirade. “I cannot escort the lass back. I will surely strangle her before we reach home!” He let out a roar of anger, and then slowly let the air out of his lungs, trying to breathe.

  “Please watch over her for me, aye? Gather a travel party and get her home to Iverni safely. I will restore all of Baine’s lands back to Gwynneth upon her return. She can choose to do as she wishes with her life when she arrives. I’m done.”

  Walking over to Garreth, he smiled and put out an arm. “King to king, Garreth, Coraindt has an ally in Iverni, any time you need.” Garreth put his firm hand out in response and the two kings clasped forearms in amicable regard for one another.

  “You are always welcome, Liam Mac Cuill. Please take a horse from our stables. Go safely.”

  And with that, Liam turned his stiff, still aching body, and left the house heading for the stables. With no stable lad present, Liam approached the first horse that caught his eye. Standing before him was a sturdy white mare with soft grey speckles all over her body and darker grey hair around her hooves. Her hair was well groomed and she did not shy away as he approached her with his hand up to her snout, indicating she was brave and wouldn’t be too jumpy, should they run into trouble. She responded by blowing slobber on his hand and rubbing her snout into his palm.

  Taking this as a sign of acceptance, Liam strapped a saddle onto her quickly and swung his powerful right leg over her back to mount. Positioning himself as he took the reins, he could see her mane glittering in the fading sunlight of the day. It was a platinum blonde that almost shone silver as the rays of sun passed through it. He let out a grunt as he considered the irony of his being drawn to female creatures with platinum hair. “Figures,” he said wryly under his breath as he gave the reins a tug and headed for the gates. “Don’t you betray me as well, little lass.”

  He looked at the two large men with lime bleached ponytails standing with their backs to him while carefully watching the road leading up to the hillfort. Liam recognized one man instantly as Bruce O’Banain, who came often to Iverni on bartering trips. Liam gave a polite nod of the head in acknowledgment as he rode past. Pivoting his head in the other direction, he squinted at the face of the other guard. His face was one he had seen in the past, though he could not, in his frazzled state of mind, drum up the energy to care where. He nodded as he and his mare rode through the iron gates and down the hill, away from the tuath of Coraindt.

  The further Liam rode away from the bustle of the hillfort, the more he was able to contemplate the events of the last three sennights. The solitude was a welcome change from the shouts and chaos that always accompanied life in a village. And yet, paradoxically, Liam craved some human connection, a companion to fill the emptiness of the woods with a form of communication other than the chirping of birds overhead and the rustling of leaves.

  Liam’s mind began to wander as he traveled with nothing to occupy him, except his scattered thoughts. He resolved to let Gwynneth go, once and for all, when he returned home. He had put his life on hold for five years. If she would not choose him of her own free will, he would no longer pursue her. The loneliness had felt tolerable before, knowing that Gwynneth had no choice but to marry Baine. Now, after her latest open refusal to marry him, the loneliness felt like a bottomless abyss.

  He sighed loudly, cheeks puffed out and chest deflating as he let out a large rush of air. His reality caused an unbearable ache deep within his gut. His bleakness was torture and his memory started to form visions of Gwynneth from the night before, her naked body over his, her passionate kisses and the way she worked him with her soft, warm hands. His groin started to tighten in response and he shook his head, urging the memory away.

  He must focus on other distractions if he was going to move on with life. Closing his eyes, he conjured the images of some of the other lusty lasses who had attempted to gain his affections throughout the years. He couldn’t say he had not bedded them, for he was, after all, a young unmarried man with no hope of having Gwynneth for himself. He had needs such as any man, and he fulfilled them when the void in his heart became unbearable. The ache for her never went away, nor did he ever pretend it did. It was never anything more than the satisfaction of the body, but it
temporarily kept the loneliness at bay.

  Still, perhaps out of blind hope, or stupid stubbornness, he never considered marriage to any of them, though Fiona would have made a good match. To get married would have meant his own acceptance of his loss of Gwynneth forever. He simply could never do it, but mayhap the time was right. He would go back to Iverni, let Gwynneth go once and for all, and marry a woman who would not make him go mad daily. He wanted a wife and children. He wanted Gwynneth. But she had chosen otherwise.

  Rubbing his chin, he wondered thoughtfully of Fiona. Never a lustier woman had he bed. She was eager to please, fun to be with, and intelligent. She was a feisty woman with a bit of a temper, but he enjoyed her spirit. A smile quirked as he thought of the many rough nights he had shared with the ebony haired lass in his bed. With her dark eyes, voluptuous body, and scheming mind, she was the complete opposite to Gwynneth’s fair features, lithe form, and innocence. Perhaps that was what he needed…a woman nothing like Gwynneth.

  Aye, he was fond enough of Fiona and perhaps would have even married her, if not for his desperate, unyielding love for Gwynneth. It never seemed fair to either of them, so the relationship had stayed physical, although he always knew she wanted more. The last time he had bedded her was just a few days before Gwynneth’s accident. He imagined Fiona’s anger if he had come back home married to Gwynneth. Fiona would have raised the dead. He smirked at that thought and shrugged. Though he knew he would never love her with the same intensity as he did Gwynneth, he hoped they could be happy together. Aye, he would visit Fiona upon his return, he resolved to himself, pretending that Gwynneth wasn’t ever-present in the forefront of his mind.

  Liam slowly rode on, deep in thought, for only another hour, but the silence was too much for his sanity and his cyclical thoughts were wearing on his nerves. “How much can a man take? How many times must I be rejected by the same woman?” His voice came out like unexpected thunder from the sky, sending birds scattering from the low branches. His horse jerked her head to the side and twitched her ears with irritation.

  “Whoooa. Sorry, lass,” he ran a reassuring hand along the silver main of the horse. Feeling a strange calm come over him as he ran his fingers over the silky mane in repetition, his words started flowing out calmly, the battle in his head finally being verbalized into some semblance of rational thought as they free-flowed from his mind. “She loves me. I know she does. Why would she not want to marry me?” he chewed on the inside of his lower lip and squinted his eyes, as if willing the answer to form in his brain. “She did not say she would not. She said she could not. Yet just last night, she asked me to marry her. Nothing makes sense.”

  The pace of his horse had slowed dramatically, subsequently calming his heart rate. He knew he could not make it to Iverni before nightfall. He started to consider a place to set up camp, without any supplies whatsoever on his person, but he was not concerned about his immediate reality, just then. “What happened between last night and today that could so drastically change Gwynneth’s mind?” He thought about her anger when he first saw Ceara. Could that be it? Nay- they had already resolved that, or so he thought. “Och, woman!” He cursed loudly, flustered at his inability to solve the mysteries of Gwynneth’s mind.

  Seeing a clearing of flat open space just ahead, Liam dismounted from his horse and scratched his head. Hunger was clawing at his insides and his mouth was parched, desperate for water. The sun had set and he needed to decide on an immediate plan of action. His curiosity was growing stronger as his anger subsided. He had a strong sense that, had he stayed to gain answers from Gwynneth, or even yell if necessary, it would have been a more logical decision than abandoning her and wandering into the woods with no supplies. But the woman made him daft and he had lost all control of his senses at her repeated refusals of him.

  “Angus Og’s bloody harp!” he kicked the loose dirt up from the floor of the woods, sending autumn colored leaves into the air and watched as they slowly fluttered back down to their resting spot among the layer of decayed foliage. The festivities of Samhain were well underway at this time of night. Gwynneth would likely be hearing the promised legend, prophecy, destiny…whatever it was, her father thought he was protecting her from.

  “Fate.” Liam spat into the earth and he leaned his forehead against the tree his horse was resting under. She looked at him with a cocked head and twitched her ears. Even the horse knew Liam had lost his mind, and the thought briefly made him smile. “Love,” he said to the white and grey horse with a shrug of his shoulders. She responded with a snort and continued to graze.

  The horse’s rest was short lived, as the sound of crunching leaves assailed her sensitive hearing and she quickly rose her head. Her nostrils flared as she repeatedly beat the ground with her front hoof, signaling the arrival of incoming intruders.

  Liam turned his body quickly to stare at the mare. He had heard no signs of disturbance within the woods, but he trusted the horse’s survival instincts implicitly and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up like the quills of a porcupine, triggering his own body’s primal instinct to evade danger. A crunch of leaves registered at a decibel that his human ears could barely detect, but it was all he needed. Pulling a long dagger from his boot, he circled around, searching every direction, using only the light from the moon as a guide. Finally locating the direction of the footsteps, Liam swerved his body around violently with his dagger, ready to strike down upon his intruder. “Liam? Is that ye?”

  His eyes widened as three human figures appeared out of the brush, each with a torch in their hand and equipped with rolled up wool blankets clipped to their backs, along with sacks of supplies. He rubbed his eyes fervently, trying to decipher whether he had, in fact, gone daft. All three figures stopped within several feet of Liam. They, with the aid of their torches, were able to accurately identify him, however he was not able to make out their features, as the blazing light from the torches obscured the faces of the…men? Aye, definitely men, Liam decided quickly. Each figure was far too large to be any woman he knew, and what woman would be strolling around in the woods at night?

  The figures had the wherewithal to recognize the bewilderment in his eyes and allowed him to make the first advancement in their direction. One step, then another, and then he stopped. Squinting through the light, the three men lowered their torches down to their waists, allowing Liam a fair opportunity to identify the intruders of his solace. Simultaneously, his brows puckered together as his lower lip jet out in recognition. “Brion? Rioghan?” Taking one step closer, he was better able to identify the final figure. “Gorman?”

  It was the three O’ Cathalain brothers! All three men smiled in unison as they let out a breath of relief. It was clear to Liam in that moment that he must, indeed, have looked as insane as he felt, for the brothers were holding their breath, unsure of his mental stability. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

  Brion and Gorman were very large men, dwarfing their middle brother, Rioghan, in size. He was still an overly large man, standing at the same full height as Liam. But, Brion and Gorman were known throughout the tuath as the largest men in the village. Luckily, they were fantastically loyal companions and allies to Liam, having grown up with him. All three were excellent fighters, and poignantly loyal to one another. No man was brave enough to create a conflict with one, knowing full well it would lead to open warfare with all three.

  Brion stepped forward with a grin and nodded in recognition. His head just barely missed the not-so-low hanging tree branch. He was wearing thick leather trousers, leather boots and a heavy woolen grey cloak. He was carrying a large satchel of supplies, indicating his thorough planning of a potentially long journey.

  “We heard a strange shouting in the middle of the otherwise quiet woods.” He hesitated, wondering if he should ask why Liam was out here, alone, at night, shouting to himself like a daft man. Thinking the better of it, he continued with a shrug. “We were afraid we might have encountered thieves. Aye, we are mighty
glad to have found ye instead, Liam, and in one piece…if only just.” He scanned Liam’s grizzled body, seeing nettles stuck in his torn trousers from the wild bushes that skimmed his legs while straddled upon the horse. His hair was standing on end as a result of his constant tugging on it during his frustrating journey. His mates were very aware of Liam’s nervous habits, and his hair’s condition was a clear indication of his distress.

  “Duncan came back for ye over a sennight ago. He never came back, nor did ye. Baine, that slimy bastard, also set out for ye and never returned. The tuath is worried sick about their new king. We had to come and seek ye out, mate…er, King.” He cleared his throat in apology for his over-familiar address of his king. Liam waved his hand in the air, as if rebuking the use of his formal title.

  “Baine never went back? I thought for certain he would report I was dead and try to sway the tribal assembly in his favor. If he didn’t go back after my attack, where is he? What would be more important to him than the title?” Suddenly, a cold sweat broke out over every inch of Liam’s body. Only one thing, or person rather, could be more important to Baine than returning home. He wanted Gwynn and his child back and would seek her out or die trying. Die, he would, before he ever took Gwynn away from him again, Liam vowed.

  “He attacked ye?” Gorman stepped forward with his eyes wide with shock.

  “Aye. Do you expect much more from him, then? He had men hiding in the woods, ready to pounce on me. Duncan had already run off to find Gwynneth…that’s another story altogether. I was alone and outnumbered. A druid found me beaten badly as he was on the way to Coraindt for the Samhain festival, and brought me with him to be nursed back to health.”

  Liam was distracted in thought. He closed his eyes and ran frustrated fingers through his thoroughly tangled hair, and winced when he tugged on his healing wound, a reminder of his attack. It fueled his anger and he started to pace while he thought.