Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad)

by *lizzie starr

  Casting his gaze sideways without moving his head, he glanced at the others. Jayse and Lucidea cuddled in the second loveseat. After depositing him here, Coralie and Nightshade had taken the two single chairs. He tipped his head slightly to see the doorway. Perhaps after the movie began, he could use the cover of darkness to slip from the room and return to his task.

  Laughter preceded Chance into the room. He set a heavy tray on the sideboard, glanced around the room, nodded to Jayse then flopped to his stomach on a pile of thick pillows. Breanna followed her brother and added an overflowing popcorn bowl to Chance’s offering. Then she turned and scanned the room.

  “What happened to the rest of the chairs?”

  Jayse looked away and cleared his throat, but Lucidea answered. “I’ve been in the mood to redecorate. The chairs were comfy, but boring. I’m having them recovered.”

  A tiny frown marred the smoothness of Breanna’s forehead and she peered at the floor. Gowthaman followed her gaze to the sets of parallel lines crossing the carpet to a closed door. So that’s what Jayse had been doing when they’d entered the room. Moving furniture. Creating less seating.

  Realization slammed into him at the same moment Breanna’s gaze lifted to his. Her bright blue eyes sparkled. Watching him, she spoke to Lucidea, her tone dry. “I’m sure you’ve been planning to redecorate for a long time. Good thing there aren’t more of us ready to enjoy a movie.”

  The light in her eyes dimmed and Gowthaman imagined he saw a plea for understanding. He managed the start of a smile and was rewarded with her visible relief.

  Turning her back, Breanna filled a smaller bowl with popcorn. “So, now that you’ve rearranged, what movie did you pick out for us?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with this one,” Jayse said.

  “That’s right.” Lucidea laughed. “This is my choice. It’s a movie we’ve seen many times. It’s good for tonight, full of hope for overcoming what appears insurmountable, with plenty to laugh over.”

  Breanna lifted two sodas in one hand and showed them to Gowthaman. He nodded approval. She brought the bottles and the popcorn and sat next to him. “Sorry about their little trick,” she whispered. Situating the bowl between them, she said, “So, what movie?”

  “Give you a clue. ‘Never give up, never surrender’.”

  Breanna chuckled, the sound warm and hopeful. The tight band of worry around Gowthaman’s heart loosened. He didn’t understand Lucidea’s vague reference, but then, he seldom found time for the frivolity of movies. And then only with Breanna’s encouragement. If she believed this exercise to be beneficial, he would hold his thoughts and not argue.

  But with the seating arrangements, neither would he be able to leave. Mourning the loss of valuable time, he couldn’t hold back a sigh.

  “Ready?” Lucidea held up the remote and made a show of pressing two buttons, lowering the lights then starting the movie.

  In the few seconds of darkness before the screen lit, Bree leaned over the popcorn bowl and whispered, “Relax, Gowtham. Enjoy. Everyone needs these moments.”

  Her breath stole across his cheek and he fought to remain still and not lean the mere fraction of an inch to touch his skin to her lips. Want blazed through him, pure, unadulterated lust for the woman he loved. He sensed her hesitation before she settled back with the bowl a flimsy barrier between them.

  Glad of the near dark and shifting to a nominally more comfortable position, he struggled with the intensity of his reaction. Yes, he loved her, and an honest component to love was desire. He could not allow himself to act upon neither the love nor his desires. Never before had a physical reaction to her nearness been so—instant. So intense. Had it to do with the danger she would face the next night?

  The opening scenes of the movie flickered on the huge screen and he blinked at the odd, science fiction images. Bree gave half a chuckle. “I love this movie.” Then she leaned close again. “I can’t believe I’ve never made you watch this with me.” The low, sultry tone of her words vibrated through him like a song. A fey angel’s song. Breanna’s song.

  He turned his head and bumped her nose with his. She gulped back a gasp but didn’t move away. He could kiss her now, in the movie darkness. But not the kiss he wished to bestow upon her; how could he, when he was undeserving?

  Tiny frown lines marked the downturn of her lips as if she knew his thoughts.

  “We should...” he started, then cleared his throat of the words hovering there.

  “I think a better...” Bree said at the same time.

  “Shh.” A wadded napkin landed on Bree’s outstretched arm. Chance’s movements rustled from the overstuffed floor pillows. “You’re the one who said we’ve gotta watch a movie, so be quiet.” He laughed, spoiling his stern reprimand.

  “Okay, okay. I’m watching the movie.” Bree rolled her eyes as she sank against the back cushions. She lifted her soda can in a sarcastic salute after Chance focused on the screen. “Brat.”

  The interruption had been timely. Unsure exactly what Chance had interrupted, and vaguely angered with the young man, Gowthaman stored his erratic thoughts away and after a quick glance at Bree, determined to watch the movie. No thinking, no action, just mindless drivel to take him away from his concerns.

  After all, that was what his Breanna wanted. Wasn’t it?

  The distraction worked—for a short while. He even found himself identifying with one of the characters. Until the actors portraying actors arrived on a real space-going ship modeled after the vessel on their television show. Until his hand bumped Bree’s in the popcorn bowl when they both tried to keep the bowl from tipping. Until she twined her fingers with his, moved the bowl and scooted closer, resting their joined hands on her thigh.

  Without turning his head, he glanced sideways at her. A tiny smile accented the fullness of her lower lip. The tip of her tongue swiped at a shiny spot of salty butter at the corner of her mouth. Gowthaman clawed the fingers of his free hand into the furniture arm. The aching need to kiss her, to show her his love rumbled deep in his chest. He released a slow breath, the roar of movie battle covering the low sound of his indiscretion.

  Perhaps if he did kiss her, he would be able to take control of his wayward emotions. He glanced at her again. Seeming oblivious of his internal struggle, she laughed at the movie actors.

  He should kiss her. He would after the movie. One kiss then he could return to his journal and complete the preparations needed to send the mission off successfully. Just one kiss.

  After all, that was what his Breanna wanted. Wasn’t it?

  Ten

  Sitting on the deck railing, Breanna watched Gowthaman escape through the workroom door. She held on to the cool wood and leaned back to stare into the dark, star-filled sky. Frustrated, she pounded one fist against the rail. Yep, she was frustrated all right.

  Gowthaman had allowed her to hold his hand through the last half of the movie. He’d kept possession of her fingers as they left the media room and strolled to the deck. She’d been amazed he hadn’t rushed right back to his journal once she’d released everyone from her well received yet imposed relaxation.

  They’d stood in the silent night staring at the loch’s dark waters. Alone. Bodies close. She hugged herself. The moment had been quietly romantic. Then he’d turned her to face him and taken both her hands. The memory alone was enough to shift her breathing to that sense of anticipation, of longing. He’d looked at her. For once, she felt he really looked at her, a man gazing into the eyes of a woman.

  The shadows had hidden the darkness of his eyes, but his expression had filled with heavy-lidded desire. It had. And that expression had drawn her closer, until she’d held their hands at her hips. A tremble passed from him to her, settling low in her body. He’d been ready to kiss her. Finally.

  She snorted and slipped to her feet. Yeah, right. Tricks in the moonlight, tricks her mind played on her, showing her what she wanted, not the true expression filling his face the seco
nd before he’d turned and practically run away. She’d wait forever for Gowthaman to come to his senses about her. Right now, he confused her too much.

  Chance peeked over the railing from the land side of the deck. “Well? Did he finally—”

  She shook her finger at him. “You planned this, you and Jayse. Don’t act so innocent around me, little brother. I smell your stink all over the popcorn ruse and reupholstering fiasco.”

  “Yeah, well, he needed a push. Did it work?”

  “I’m standing in one of the most romantic spots at the manor. Alone. What do you think?”

  “Geez, Bree. A little help from you—”

  “Would get me nowhere. Now, for this little stunt, I think you need some early morning sword practice. Say six?”

  “Me? It was Jayse’s idea.” Chance lifted himself over the rail and crossed his arms. Not the least bit repentant, he lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head at her.

  “I’ll get him up, too. You can cross swords together. I’m sure he needs the workout.”

  “Great. I’ll go tell him the good news.” Chance’s shoulders slumped and his expression drooped. “Bree, we really didn’t mean for you to get upset.”

  She slapped at his shoulder. “I know. And I’m not really mad. But you still can use the practice before we encounter the world between worlds. Don’t worry. I’ll be there, too.”

  Chance sidled closer and touched his shoulder to hers then kissed her cheek. “Love ya, Sis. I’ll tell Jayse and Coralie, sword practice at six.”

  He paced through the doorway, waving over his shoulder. She called to him, “Make it seven, Chance. Sleep well.”

  Morning came much too early and Bree opened just one eye to stare at the alarm clock. The outrageous noise continued until she uncurled from the comfort of the soft bed and swatted the clock to silence. A groan preceded her tossing the light quilt aside and standing. Once on her feet, she stretched her spine then smiled.

  There’d been the sound of movement and conversation in the manor house long after midnight, so she’d known Chance and probably Gowthaman had been up too late. She didn’t worry about Gowtham, but her brother had a hard day—perhaps many difficult days—before him and should have been resting. She’d work him to near exhaustion this morning, then insist he rest the remainder of the day.

  Before she hit the shower, she paused. The clash and clang of steel against steel made her tip her head in confusion. It was only a quarter of seven. Why had Chance or Jayse started practice without her?

  She rushed through her shower, skimmed a comb through her towel dried hair. Dressed in comfortable jeans, she trotted from her room. With his love of renaissance faires and reenactments, Jayse had created a practice area just off the parking area so she headed out the front door and across the rough gravel drive.

  Lucidea sat on a stone and metal bench at the edge of the clearing, a heavy mug in her hand. She shouted encouragement to Coralie, who held a short, slender sword and sparred with Nightshade. Breanna moved to stand behind Lucidea and watched silently. She’d had little occasion to test Coralie’s skill with a blade. Now, she found nothing to complain about nor any suggestions to add to Nightshade’s running commentary. Although how he knew so much about fighting with a sword... she shook her head and turned her attention to Jayse and Chance.

  The two men fought with an intensity that surprised her. Chance never fought that seriously when she challenged him. Maybe this mission would be good for him. She sat next to Lucidea and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

  “How long have they been going at it?”

  Lucidea took a sip from her coffee mug. “Hmm, Coralie and Nightshade started almost an hour ago. She said it’s been too long and she wanted to regain a comfortable, working knowledge of the blade. The guys, not so long. Maybe half an hour. We decided to let you sleep.”

  “I assume Gowthaman’s inside somewhere with his nose in a book.”

  “You’d be assuming wrong.”

  Startled, Bree glanced sideways at Lucidea. “I am?”

  “He’s just gone to bed. Was up all night—with his nose in a book. Jayse practically had to rip the pen from his hand and force him at sword point to lay down on the couch in the study.” She chuckled. “Don’t expect him to stay there very long, though.

  “I’m sure he won’t. Besides, he’s never seemed to need a lot of sleep.”

  “He’s worried about you, you know.”

  Bree scrubbed her hand over the back of her neck. “I know.”

  “I wish you two would—”

  “I know that too. But I can’t push him, I can’t force the issue.”

  “And why not?” Lucidea waved one hand. “I know now’s not the time. But once you’re back and Morghan’s here, there must be some way to get him to focus on you. And only you. Then you’ll be able to help each other to help him.”

  Unable to decipher what Lucidea was talking about, Bree blinked. “Huh?” She needed caffeine.

  With another wave, Lucidea turned her attention toward her husband. “Never mind. Your concerns are somewhere else. We’ll talk when you get back.” She bent sideways and lifted an insulated carafe. “Coffee?”

  “You’ve been holding out on me. Give. Maybe with a little stimulation I’ll be able to think.”

  “Hmm, but I just said Gowthaman’s asleep.” Lucidea laughed and handed her a mug of steaming coffee. “Sorry, Bree. I don’t mean to make bad jokes or innuendoes, I’m... I’m excited, nervous, scared stiff. This, what you’re doing, where you’re going... it means so much to me.”

  “Oh, Lucidea, I understand. I’m glad I’m able to do this for you.” She took the other woman’s hand. “We’ll do all we can to bring Morghan home. Your uncle’s safety and return is my primary concern.”

  Tears filled Lucidea’s eyes. “I know it is. But then, after he’s home, then promise me you won’t give up on Gowthaman, will you?”

  Bree’s lips felt quivery when she tried to smile. “I’ll never give up on him, Lucidea. No more than you’d give up on Jayse.”

  “Good. Now, I’m going to go in and wash my face before Jayse sees me. I can only blame hormones for so much. I’ll bring out more coffee. And water for our combatants.”

  Nodding, Bree turned her attention back to the two pairs on the practice field. Coralie and Nightshade stood talking, the wide sweeps of Nightshade’s hands illustrating his points. Bree grinned and turned to watch her brother.

  There was something different about his fighting style, an odd, awkwardness not usually found in his movements. She tipped her head in confusion and found herself watching the tip of his weapon rather than his body’s movements. Why did his actions look so strange?

  A few slashes and thrusts later, she frowned. He was practicing with a claymore a good foot longer than his personal weapon. What the hell was he thinking? They had no real idea what dangers they might face in the world between worlds. He needed to be comfortable with his weapon. With his weapon, not some sword he picked up for the heck of it. Just because he wanted to. Just because he was named Chance didn’t mean he should take chances with an unfamiliar sword.

  Coffee sloshed over the edge of the cup when she jerked to her feet. She glared at the brown stain covering the stone seat. Needing calm, she took a deep breath. Confronting her brother already frustrated wouldn’t help. So she stood a moment longer staring as the coffee dripped to the ground.

  “M’lady Alastriona?”

  Only members of the defenders of mankind called her that, and then only in the most official or serious of moments. The coffee she’d drunk settled bitterly in her stomach and she turned to face her second in command.

  “Macaire?”

  He ducked his head, angling so he didn’t meet her eyes. The lump in her stomach fell, pressing firm and hard against her apprehension. The simple gesture, the lack of eye contact—there was something wrong. Seriously wrong, for Macaire never hedged, never actually dragged his toe through the dirt to avoid l
ooking at her.

  She took a deep breath. “Is there something wrong in Faerie? With my family?”

  His eyes lifted quickly to hers, then dropped again and he scuffed the other toe in the dirt, lifting a small stone to the surface. He shook his head. “Nothing such as that, lady Alastriona.”

  “Then what?” His refusal to meet her gaze didn’t bode well for anything other than devastating news.

  “Lady—”

  “You know better—”

  “Aye, I do. But as the bearer of tidings you will not wish to hear, I thought it prudent...”

  She forced a bark of dry laughter. “Prudent? Just tell me. What can be so bad that you have to resort to unwanted titles?”

  “It is Searlait.”

  The hard, sour lump sank low enough to feel as though it settled against the base of her spine. A shiver crawled from that place of origin and dread tightened her throat. “Is she... ill?”

  “Not in the sense you mean. She is ill at heart, for she fears she has failed you desperately.”

  After placing her coffee mug on the bench, Bree wrapped her arms around herself. “Failed me how?”

  Macaire’s gaze focused somewhere in the distance over her shoulder. Then his dark eyes returned to her, pleading for understanding. “She has tried. I have been with her, and she tried until she could no longer... I swear to you, Breanna. I swear...” His gaze drifted away.

  “Macaire. Look at me.” Each second longer than the one before, she waited until his focus returned to her. “I think I understand, but I need to hear.”

  “She tried.” He spread his hands, his long fingers splayed and curled with entreaty. “She was able to open the portal to join you here, but she could not cross. She cannot, she will not, return to the world between worlds.”