“Aye, bonnie wee lassie,” he answered in a deep, soft burr. “It has been long since I bided up at the ranch and I believe a bite to eat would certainly hit the spot after traversing all the way through Cachaileith na Sith to meet ye.”
Grinning sweetly, the little girl turned on her heel, setting off at a goodly pace, her tiny legs moving like the wings of a hummingbird beside the long legs of the boy and the massive, muscular shanks of the man.
Young Tiernan MacDuff's interest was directed solely on the little girl, Abby, as he followed close on her heel, surprised to find that the American-raised lass spoke exactly like his own people. She was the bonniest girl he had ever seen. She had taken his breath away, and she hardly more than a bairn, he thought disdainfully, taken aback by his own reaction. He wished she were older, at least a couple years, his own grand age of six. What would it look like to the older lads back home when they all saw him training with her, and she barely reaching my oxter with the top o’ that fiery red head, he noted with a grimace; his fingers twitched softly against the roughness of his kilt, each digit suddenly itching to touch the glossy ringlets, to see if they might spring back up with even the slightest tug.
As they reached a sizable apple orchard just past the edge of the wood, one gnarled old tree fair to bursting with fragrant pink and white blossoms overhead, Abby slowed at last, turning to look up at the boy once more with wide, gleaming eyes. “I've dreamt of you,” she breathed softly. “You are one o' the tierce, aye? Once I have found the others, the lost princes I see in the dreamworld, I am to join with you." She glanced down, her intelligent gaze taking in the already impressive breadth of the kilt-clad boy, taking in the differences of her own undeveloped self; she flashed a rueful grin. "Course, that willna be until I have fully grown.” A smile lit her baby face from within; she giggled merrily at the widened black eyes and reached out, taking his smooth hand in her own, her warm flesh still rounded with baby fat. “I am glad to see you are as beautiful in real life as you were in my dream, Tiernan MacDuff Mac Morna.”
Her name resounded across the meadow; the woman’s voice calling out in a decisively impatient tone drew her away at a dead run, toward the massive, three tiered log house in the distance; she pulled the boy along with her as if he belonged there, by her side, leaving a stunned Fergus MacDuff to stare after her in wonderment, boggled, at last, by something the wee Princess Ailill had said.
“They are arguing wi’ one another still. It seems your mother doesna wish ye to go away...” Leaning closer, Tiernan gazed into the girl’s troubled face, his eyes glowing softly, sympathetic in the half light that seeped through the cracked open doorway; they had come to spy on the adults at her own urging; he'd agreed because he felt sorry for her. “She says why canna ye train here, in the land you’ve been raised, though she kens that it is forbidden and aye, verra dangerous. She says ye are but a bairn yet, and a bairn should be wi’ her mother.”
Ailill’s eyes blazed at that, angry that she was still treated as such though she had celebrated her fourth year more than two months before. “I am not a bairn!” Her tiny leather-clad foot stomped soundlessly on the plush carpeting of the guest bedroom floor and the boy stifled a grin at the proof of her age in the small motion. Turning away so that she would not see the smile in his dark eyes, Tiernan poked his head back out of the door, listening to the ensuing verbal battle. After a moment he felt Ailill move closer, insinuating her small self against his kilted front, her head well below his clefted chin, the long mass of silken auburn hair draped across the bare skin of his arm. She smelled sweet, like honey, and spicy, like some exotic flower; when he'd asked about that odd combination, MacDuff had said that Ailill carried a pheromone, a natural signature of scent, just like a queen bee. He inhaled deeply, delicately etched nostrils flaring with the various scents of her. On her breath he scented the fresh, creamy milk she had been drinking before they were sent upstairs and when she leaned back into him trustingly, he sighed softly, wrapped his arms about her narrow waist.
He felt as if he were holding her up while they unashamedly eavesdropped on the adults’ conversation, as if she truly needed him; he guessed that, in a way, she did, considering that the entire stramash downstairs, the arguments of the past weeks, everything was about her; a bitty wee lass with the potential to become the most powerful leader of all the Tribes. It was an unexpectedly comforting feeling, her need, which dredged up thoughts of his mother, lost to him for all his years; sometimes he could remember the woman, his Mam, though how he could pull up images of a woman who'd died when he was barely a half-hour old, Tiernan did not fully understand. All he did know was that her death had been the very beginning of terrible losses for his own Da, and that he had two brothers somewhere in this world who had been born along with him. MacDuff told him once that, as long as Tiernan was alive, he kent with certainty that the others were as well; the man had also said that Ailill was the key to finding his stolen sons, whatever that meant. Holding tighter to the tiny child in his arms, Tiernan hoped that what she had dreamed would come to pass; that she would find the others, his brothers, and that the changes which would mark them both as fully grown in the eyes of the Elders might lead to their union in about ten years time. For now, comforting her would be enough.
The voices below grew more vituperative. As the volume increased every word that was said was clearly audible, rather than scattered bits of broken sentences. Finally, Ailill’s father’s voice rang out clearly, his tone full of regret, yet ringing with finality.
“Abby will go with you, Duff, as was planned the last time you came, although I, myself, wish it didn’t have to be like this. We lost her once. I trust that it won’t happen again, under your watchful eye. You’re free to take my daughter to Heartfire.”
“Aye, Shaemus, and I thank ye for the trust which ye have shown me. Ye have my word, and the wee lass has my fealty, as ever before. She willna lack for anything, and she will ken all that she should when next ye see her. Ailill will always be safe within the walls of Heartfire keep and in her own lands," Fergus MacDuff vowed, his tone formal.
Ailill’s mother made a soft sound of derision, not yet ready to hand her young daughter over to the man whom she had known and trusted for decades; for far longer. “It will not be easy for her. I remember well the physical and mental strain, the constant struggle to conform to what was expected of me, and my daughter has already proven far stronger of will than I. She is a free spirit with a pure selfless heart. You will not be able to stop her heart, Duffy,” she intoned quietly. “My daughter knows exactly with whom she is meant to be. Strange as it sounds, I believe she was born knowing far more than she lets on. I've had that impression too often to discount it, regardless of her years.”
“Aye, Annie, I ken it. She said as much when she met us in the wood. The bitty wee thing told Tiernan that she had dreamt of him; that she knew they were meant to be joined. It fair stunned me to silence when she said it.” MacDuff’s deep voice still held a touch of awe weeks later. He had many expectations regarding wee Ailill, but that had not been one of them; Imbas Forasni did not normally show so strong in one so very young. A supernaturally strong birthright, indeed. “She has proven to be full o' surprises, and I believe that with the proper training and a bit o' discipline our lass will prove any doubts wrong.”
“Yeah, well. Did she tell you that she dreams of the...uh, others, too? She still doesn’t know where they are and I’m sorry about that, for your sake. We've carefully questioned her, each time, but...” James’ tone was uneasy, his voice low; knowing what his daughter must endure, what had already been decided for her, filled him with fury whenever he gave it more than a passing thought, in spite of how much he liked the Scotsman. “Abby tries to hide it, but that doesn’t change the fact that deep down she knows what’ll come. And, it doesn’t change the fact that there ain’t nothin’ right or fair in the entire ordeal, not for her. Her life has been normal so far, we’ve made sure of it, and now it won�
�t be. In ten years time... well. My daughter should be given the right to choose where her heart sets, is all. Not forced into more than she wants or needs."
“She will have the right, Jamie,” Annie put in gently, a frown marring her smooth brow.
“Not like you had the right to, when you chose me.”
“No, but I willingly gave up everything I had been working toward when I gave my heart to you; when you won the right to have me. I did not know, at the time, that Kiah would find some way to exact vengeance upon me, upon all of us, when I spurned him. I truly had no idea he would take things so far. This was the only way I could save Ailill, and well you know it. I won’t lose my daughter again, and neither will her people.” Sighing her displeasure, Annie added, “you may take her, Duffy, if only because she will be safe from harm, but I would advise you to tread with caution, even at Heartfire. She has already captured one lad’s heart, I can sense it even as we speak. Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t lose all of my abilities when I chose to follow my heart instead of my mother’s whims.”
“I will raise the two as siblings until they are old enough to understand, Annie, ye have my word.”
“You know as well as I do that Ailill could choose anyone, even a brother if she had one, and still carry the purest blood of us all. Keep her safe, MacDuff, that is all I ask.”
“With my life, Annie darlin’. I will let the laddie know the why o’ it all when he is a bit older, even if he is far taken with her by then. ‘Tis a waiting game, is all. Same as it was for you. We shall wait for her to find the lost princes, if she is able, and then we will tell them all. The lad will win her eventually, I have no doubt, even if it means he has to share... the wee Herself has already proven an ability to draw much love; even from me.” MacDuff’s deep laughter rolled up the stairway like a warm wave, sweet and light as his sense of accomplishment.
Tiernan felt the tiny girl in his arms relax, the tension flowing out of her soft body as smoothly as if it were water. When she turned to look up at him, her eyes sparkled, iridescent in the dim; the points at the back of ears like miniature clamshells were even more pronounced than they had been. When she smiled at him, her tiny baby teeth as shiny as new pearls, his young heart thumped in answer and melted into a gooey puddle at his feet. He smiled back and took her hand.
“Dinna fash, my wee Princess,” Tiernan whispered calmly. “I willna let any harm come to ye. We will be married after all. I will find a way.”
Li'l Warriors
Not like that, lass. Head up, shoulders back.” The wide leather band tightened where it rested against the girl's sweat-damped forehead, the cool metal providing no relief as the long blade slid into place, flush against her spine. She groaned inwardly, a fleeting frown crossing her brow as she tried to stop the instant trembling in her legs with the unwieldiness of the heavy, overlong claymore, tried hard not to shift her feet in front of the others as the wide leather belt was cinched too tightly about her tiny waist.
“Ye mun stand tall as ye are able, prideful in yer bearing, showing no emotion in yer face nor yer stance. Don't show the enemy any sign o' weakness... or he will be quick to take advantage. Don't bow down to any man, unless it is a means to an end. And don't ever, ever, give away yer true identity. Not even if ye are under threat of death. Now... What is the first law of a warrior?”
Unable to meet the giant man's speculative gaze, knowing that to do so would cause the sword blade to cut into her backside or the back of her head, Ailill stared straight ahead, ignoring the many eyes she knew had come to rest upon her these past few moments. “Do not commit bodily injury and/or death upon any known friend o' the Realm.”
“And the second, third and fourth?”
“Do not intentionally disrupt the harmony o' the homeland. Do not cause nor promote discord 'tween kith and kin. Consider all as yer equal until ye are proven otherwise.”
As she spoke, the man appeared to take a casual stroll back and forth before the rows of young would-be warriors, his hands clasped behind his broad back, head tilted to one side, listening to more than just the husky timbre of his tiny charge's voice. Despite the way it looked, his deep black gaze never left the lassie's face, the stubborn scowl that lent a fierceness to the diminutive child. Head and shoulders below even the youngest lad there, he'd nearly laughed aloud when she swayed under the massive height of his favorite sword, but that would not do. It was bad enough that she'd forced his hand, that he'd had to come up with a just punishment to teach the brawny wee thing a bit of humility. Sighing under his breath, muttering an oath, MacDuff stopped before the girl, bent down to peer into her eyes. He carefully ignored the dirt smudged on the tip of her small nose, the rivulets of muddy sweat burning her deeply hued eyes.
“What is the tenth law, Ailill?” he asked quietly, unable to hide the light of amusement from his own eyes as hers lifted just enough to meet them. As he expected, the ever present spark of defiance was there, in that bright, ageless gaze.
“Don't raid beasts from our own stables?” she said after a moments thought. The snickers that followed her answer brought a frown to her face, her gaze losing a bit of its heat as she realized she was now to be the butt of not a few jokes in the days to come.
“Lads!” he warned without batting an eye. “Ye do realize, Ailill, that you've broken every law you've spoken today, do ye not?”
“Aye, m'laird.”
“Do ye have aught to say for yer actions then?”
The stubborn refusal to give in was as plain as the wee nose on her face; those closest watched as a glazed look came into her eyes, her features set into barely concealed fury. “No, m'laird, I dinna have aught to say for my actions. But I do have plenty to say for his! In fact,” she added, her tone serious, not the least bit apologetic. “Just so we are clear, I would do it all again- give away my identity before beatin' the livin' hell out o' that abusive fiend! I would invoke the seventh law- Always accord an innocent the decency of retribution for crimes committed upon himself and his own, and the eighth- Never back down in battle- Fight to the death. I would do it all, m'laird, including this... mphm, this ridiculous form o' punishment! For I was right, no matter how ye look at it.”
A soft hiss slipped past the lips of a few lads standing at attention around the single girl, her bold comments causing more than one to stare openly at the giant of a man who'd been so patient thus far.
“Ridiculous, is it?” At her sharp nod, he spun away, eyes raised skyward, as if seeking answers from the most ancient of the Gods as to how in hell he'd ever be able to teach such a lass as the wee Herself anything at all, for surely she had just proven how much more she possessed up-top than he ever would.
“Lads, ye are dismissed. Go and find a bite to eat. Now.” MacDuff commanded softly before striding away.
Intentionally ignoring the sudden frantic whispers near her ear, Ailill forced her eyes closed, suddenly too aware of the sun beating down upon her head, the rumble of hunger speaking from her clockwork belly. She stood that way until the last reluctant steps faded away, until the sun took a downward turn and the air turned chill with the coming dark, refusing to apologize, to give into her own bodily needs and the exhaustion in her mind each time someone came to her throughout the long, punishing hours of reflection.
“Och... stubborn lass, ye surely could have given way before now.”
The whispered reprimand fell on deaf ears, the sudden release as the leather bindings were cut away from around her waist and head barely noticed in limbs gone numb after so long. Strong arms caught her as gravity pulled her down, lifted her effortlessly. She uttered not a word, moaned softly only when cool water ran down her parched throat, taken away too soon, her ears buzzing with more than mere exhaustion, nearly missing a promise of more water soon; softspoken words of comfort. Within moments she was lying on cool sheets, her muscles screaming in relief, shaking as her arms and legs were moved hither and yon, stripped of the hindrance of sweat-soaked wool and leather.
A feminine voice moved in and out of range while strong fingers slid over her body, warm and sure, massaging the aching knots of tension out of each muscle with soothing strokes. Her eyes opened briefly as the promised water was at last dripped over her thirst-swollen tongue, her gaze settling on a pair of velvet-black eyes full of worry; the source of relief to her aching body, Tiernan was bent over her, intent on his task. Slipping easily into sleep, Ailill did not notice the door closing softly, nor the way the bed shifted and smooth arms wrapped about her beneath the sheet.
She noticed naught, until a hand roughly shook her from her dreams in the darkest hour of night, a familiar voice husking, soft urgency near her ear.
“Wake up, Abby! 'Tis only a dream... a dream, lass-”
“Nay, don't touch,” Ailill commanded roughly, shoving the comforting hands away, her eyes wide in the dark, still seeing those disturbing images. “Not a dream... the ravens, they are real... like you... not birds at all. Wounded, they are... close to the barrier, enough to draw me over.” Her pounding heart slowed a bit, her neck stinging where blood had been drawn in the dream. Reaching, her hand found a glass of water on the night table, the cool liquid soothing as she swallowed in big gulps. When her thirst was slaked at last, she rolled toward the lad beside her, allowed him to take her hand in his own. With the other, her cool fingers lightly probed the now fading soreness near her jugular. Finding no wound, she forced her gaze to the boy beside her. Dark eyes scrutinized her piquant features, sharp with curiosity. One small tremor was the only clue that her words had spooked him, though by now he was surely used to her dreams.
“Why are ye in my bed, Tiernan?” she quietly asked. “Usually it is I who slip in with you.”
Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) Page 2