by Anne Bishop
Neall stepped outside and latched the bottom of the kitchen door. “Ari,” he called softly.
She didn’t like the way he was grinning at her.
“If it jumps out of the basin, don’t leave it flopping about on the floor. Catch it and toss it back in.”
“Jumps?” Ari said, snapping her head around to stare at the too-lively fish. She knew salmon jumped. Of course she knew that. She had seen them leap to get past small waterfalls in the stream, but . . . “It’s going to jump in my kitchen?”
Ari leaped for the kitchen door, reaching it just in time to see Neall, grinning gleefully, put his heels to Darcy’s sides and take off around the cottage.
“Neall!”
Racing through the cottage, she scrabbled to get the front door unlatched and flung it open. Neall was already cresting the low rise on the other side of the road.
“Neall!”
The gelding went down the other side of the rise, and Neall was gone.
Latching the door, Ari returned to the kitchen. Grabbing a small frying pan from its hook on the wall, she approached the sink warily. “If you jump, I’ll smack you.” She held up the frying pan to show the fish she meant it.
The salmon thrashed in the basin. The tail lifted, flinging water right in Ari’s face.
Slowly, Ari set the frying pan down. Moving as far away from the sink as she could, she gathered the jars of honey and jam, then sliced the bread she had left.
“He knew this would happen. He knew it. He’s probably just sorry he wasn’t here to see it.” She glared at the salmon. “You know, if he takes his sweet time getting back from Ahern’s, you’re not the only one who’s going to feel a frying pan.”
Neall grinned as Darcy galloped toward Ahern’s farm.
Ari’s lover was a fool. A wonderful, wonderful fool. Imagine getting squeamish about something so natural. The man could have had the pleasure of spending time with her, could have enjoyed just being with her. But he’d walked away because he couldn’t have the bed. Tomorrow the dark of the moon began, and Ari would no longer be obliged to open her door or her arms to this stranger she’d met somewhere at the Summer Moon.
May the Great Mother bless the man all the days of his life for being a wonderful, wonderful fool.
Neall’s grin widened.
And may She bless Ari as well. He knew she’d been struggling and didn’t have enough coins to buy meat very often. But he hadn’t realized that she hadn’t made use of what would have been freely given until she’d told him how long it had been since she’d had fresh fish to eat.
What he’d told her was true. He hadn’t spent much time catching the salmon. He’d simply gone to the stream and quietly stood on the bank. When a few of the water sprites who lived in and around the stream had asked why the young Lord of the Woods was just standing there, he had told them he wanted a salmon for Ari. They disappeared into the stream, and a few minutes later two salmon were being herded toward him. He had thanked the water sprites and taken the salmon. As simple as that.
He had stopped trying to explain to the Small Folk that he wasn’t a Lord of the Woods. True, his understanding of the woods and the creatures that lived there had always been keen—and might have come from the man who had sired his father. And there was no denying that there were times, when meat was truly needed, when a rabbit or a young buck seemed to offer itself to his bow. But having a Fae grandfather didn’t make him Fae. However, that didn’t stop him from accepting whatever fealty was offered when he needed it.
The gelding refused to check its speed when they reached Ahern’s yard, causing a couple of men who worked for Ahern to fling themselves out of the way to avoid being knocked over. A few yards away from the old man, the horse sat on its haunches, stopping so fast Neall almost went flying.
“We’re going to have to talk about this,” Neall muttered. Swinging one leg over Darcy’s neck, he jumped to the ground and held up the wet sack. “I’ve come to barter.”
The stern disapproval in Ahern’s eyes didn’t change. “You ride in here like a pack of shadow hounds are on your heels just to barter?” He shook his head. “I have nothing to offer the baron—” He looked over Neall’s shoulder.
Neall turned to see what had caught Ahern’s attention. The gelding was now facing the way they had come, its ears pricked. It took two steps forward.
“Wait for me,” Neall warned.
Darcy took one step back and snorted.
Ahern looked at the gelding, then at the land the animal was aiming for.
“You haven’t come to barter for the baron’s table,” Ahern said.
“No, sir.”
Nodding, Ahern pointed at the sack. “What have you to trade?”
Neall grinned. “A salmon. A big beauty that’s still so fresh it will slap you with its tail.”
“In that case, come inside and we’ll talk.”
“You robbed him,” Ari said, sounding too relaxed to be upset.
“I bargained well,” Neall corrected. They were sitting on the bench behind the cottage, enjoying a fine summer evening.
“You cleaned out Ahern’s larder.”
“Did not. I only took what my saddlebags could hold.” He didn’t want her chewing over that too much, so he said, “Did you have enough to eat?”
She let out a laughing groan in answer.
Smiling, Neall took her hand. When she didn’t pull away, he leaned back against the cottage and closed his eyes, content.
The bargaining had been fierce, and it had taken every ounce of persuasion he’d had to convince Ahern that he could only take so much for one fish without Ari starting to wonder if it was a fair barter or charity. Mentioning charity had made Ahern so angry Neall had thought the old man would strike him. But they both knew Ari, they both knew she could be stubborn to the point of being foolish, and they both knew her pride was the only thing that made it possible for her to face the people of Ridgeley. And bruising pride with too much kindness wasn’t kindness at all. So they haggled and argued until Neall had promised to bring another salmon or two in a few days and pick up the rest of the supplies Ahern insisted Ari should have.
“Will the baron be angry about your ignoring your work?” Ari asked. “Will he wonder where you are?”
“He doesn’t give a damn where I am. He never has unless he wants something. As for the work, let Royce take care of it. After all, the estate and all the tenant farms will be his one day.”
He felt her turn to face him. He kept his eyes closed.
“What will you do when that day comes, Neall?” Ari asked quietly. “Will you work for Royce and take what handouts he chooses to give?”
Neall hesitated, then thought, Plant the seed now. Give it time to take root. “I have some land of my own. It’s in the west, about a day’s ride from the coast. It belonged to my mother. When my parents died, it came to me. Now that I’ve reached my majority, it’s time for me to go home.”
That shook her enough to make her hand tremble in his.
“Why—” Ari drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Why have you never said anything about this?”
“Because my gentry relatives are greedy. The baron would have made my life even more miserable if he’d known there was something that belonged to me that he couldn’t use while I was under his roof. Besides, I don’t own the land in that way.” He paused. “I did tell your grandmother about the land. She told me it would be a secret between us until I was ready to share it with someone else. That she thought I was wise not to tell anyone was the main reason I’ve been able to keep it a secret for so long.”
“And now you’ve told me,” Ari said softly. “Thank you.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. She seemed to be working hard to remain calm, and that gave him hope. “I wanted you to know there was land waiting to be cherished again, that there was a place to go.”
“The anniversary of your birthing day was weeks ago. You should have left then so that yo
u’d have time to put in your own crops.”
“I had reason to stay.”
She pressed her lips together. “When are you going?”
“That depends on you.” He watched her eyes widen with shock. He gently squeezed her hand. “If you know in your heart that you will never think of me as anything more than a friend, I hope you’ll be honest enough to tell me—and I’ll go alone. But if there’s a chance that you could care for me as a lover and a wife, I’ll wait for you, Ari.”
“Neall . . .”
He shook his head. “Don’t say anything now.”
Ari looked at the meadow and the forest beyond. “I care for you, Neall. I do. But my family has looked after Brightwood for generations. It’s my duty to stay here.”
“Perhaps it’s time for someone else to take care of Brightwood,” he said quietly. “Perhaps it’s time to make a new life somewhere else. Think about it, Ari. Please.”
Releasing her hand, he stood up. “I need to get back now. Can I help you with anything before I go?”
Ari shook her head.
“Then I’d better stir my four-legged friend and convince him it’s time to leave.” He took a few steps toward the part of the meadow where the gelding was grazing before Ari called him back.
She was wringing her hands and looked so distressed he regretted that he had spoiled her peace.
“Neall . . . Even if I could leave Brightwood, it’s not our way to marry.”
“Sometimes it is,” he said hurriedly. “My mother married my father, and they were happy.” When she looked puzzled, he thought, I hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t intended to tell her—at least, not yet—but now I have to tell her all of it. One way or the other, it might make the difference in the answer. “My mother’s branch was earth. There was nothing she touched that wouldn’t grow.”
Ari stared at him. “Your mother was a witch?”
“Yes. And my father was half Fae.” There was bitterness in his smile. “From things the baron has said, I gather the family had been embarrassed to have to acknowledge a child sired by one of the Fae. So they had been quite willing to forget about my father when he came of age and headed west to make his own fortune. The only thing they knew about my mother was that my father had married her.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don’t want any secrets between us. Because I want you to know who I came from.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “And now I’ll go. Blessings of the day to you, Ari.”
“Blessings of the day to you, Neall,” she whispered.
All the way back to the baron’s estate, he wondered if he’d done the right thing, if he should have waited to tell her about his parents and the land. Since he couldn’t take back the words, he hoped he’d made the right choice.
Chapter Nineteen
“Something has to be done,” Dianna said, pacing the length of the terrace that overlooked her favorite garden.
“What can be done?” Lyrra asked. “The new moon has begun its journey—and Lucian hasn’t gone down the road through the Veil since the day he returned early.”
“Has he said anything to Aiden about why he returned early that night?”
Lyrra shook her head. “He’s still brooding, and there’s a look in his eyes that helps one remember that he’s the Lord of Fire.”
“We can’t just sit here.” Dianna stopped pacing and squared her shoulders. “There’s one way to find out if Ari has become an enemy.”
Lyrra paled a little. “You’re going down to the cottage?”
“She doesn’t know I’m Fae. I can pay a visit without arousing suspicion.”
“Be careful, Dianna.”
“With Tir Alainn at stake, you can rest assured that I’ll be careful.”
Returning to her suite, Dianna pulled the riding habit from the wardrobe. She paused, considered. If that male who had shown up at Ari’s the last time she had visited had been speaking the truth, she could save herself the trouble of riding sidesaddle. And it wasn’t as if she was intending to go riding where the human gentry would see her.
She dropped the riding habit on her bed and chose one of her usual riding outfits—a skirt as light as cobwebs that buttoned over slim trousers and a simple blouse made of fine linen. That would do quite well.
A few minutes later, as she was heading for the stables, she heard a quiet whine.
The bitch that used to be her favorite approached hesitantly, the dark eyes pleading to be forgiven for whatever it had done that had made its mistress turn away from it. Beside the bitch were the three pups, the two that showed no outward trace of the undesirable sire and the third, which she couldn’t bear to look at.
She turned away, then turned back and snatched the third puppy. It cried as if it knew the person holding it despised its existence.
The bitch whined.
“It will be well taken care of,” Dianna said. She hurried to the stables before she had too much time to think . . . and change her mind.
Wanting to avoid Ahern’s farm for this visit, and gambling that Ari didn’t know horses well enough to be alarmed at seeing a “gentry” lady riding a Fae horse, she had the grooms saddle her pale mare. The pup was wrapped in a piece of blanket so that it couldn’t squirm around. With one arm holding the pup, Dianna cantered down the road that led through the Veil.
Reaching Brightwood, she followed the forest trails until she came to the road and was riding toward Ari’s cottage from the same direction she’d come before.
Ari, naturally, was working in the garden.
“Dianna,” Ari said, surprise and pleasure in her voice.
She didn’t expect me to return after I learned she was a witch.
“Blessings of the day to you,” Ari said.
“Blessings of the day to you,” Dianna replied, choking a little on speaking a witch’s greeting. They think you’re the Queen of the Witches. Speaking their words won’t set your tongue on fire.
“I see you’ve forsaken gentry fashion for practicality,” Ari teased.
Dismounting easily, Dianna gave Ari a cool stare. “I would prefer to be thought a peasant than deal with an insolent man.”
“Oh.” Ari seemed to be working through several replies, but ended up shrugging. “Neall can be opinionated at times.”
Neall. A name spoken with easy familiarity. “Do you know him well?”
“We’re friends.”
You say that as if you’re not quite sure. I wonder if Lucian was aware he had a rival.
The puppy squirmed.
“What’s that?” Ari asked.
“Something I brought for you.” Dianna unwrapped the puppy and held it out.
Her eyes lighting, Ari reached for the puppy and held him up so that they were nose to nose. “You’re adorable.”
The puppy licked her nose, making her laugh.
Ari’s delight made Dianna smile. “He seems to think the same about you.”
Cradling the puppy, Ari said, “He’s wonderful, Dianna, but I can’t accept him. He’s obviously a valuable animal, and—”
Dianna waved her hand dismissively. “He has no value. He’s deformed.” Seeing Ari’s stricken look and the way her arms tightened protectively around the puppy, Dianna bit her tongue. What use was it to give something and then say it had no value? “You’re correct that the bitch is a valuable animal, but the quality of the sire is . . . suspect. The coloring is wrong.”
Ari looked down at the puppy. “Wrong? But he has a beautiful merle coat.”
Dianna bit her tongue again to keep from saying something else that would make the pup completely worthless—or saying something that would clearly tell Ari that the pup had come from a shadow hound. “Yes, it is, but the breeder is very particular about coloring. So the pup has no worth for the breeder. But there’s nothing wrong with him, and I thought he would have a good home with you.”
There was still hesitation there. Dianna choked back frustration. The girl ob
viously liked the puppy. Why couldn’t she just accept it?
“I—I suppose he eats meat.”
“He’s a dog. Of course he eats—” Dianna stopped, suddenly remembering that Ari hadn’t offered any meat with the meal she’d prepared the last time Dianna visited. “Don’t you eat meat?”
“Yes, I do—when I can afford it.”
Dianna looked away. With every turn, there was another obstacle.
Ari caressed the puppy. “We’ll find a way.”
Dianna narrowed her eyes as she looked at the forest. “Don’t you hunt?”
Ari smiled ruefully. “Neall taught me how to shoot a bow, and I can hit the bulls-eye in a target, but I can’t hit anything when it stands there and looks at me.”
Neall again. Maybe this Neall could make himself useful and provide some meat.
“Thank you, Dianna. The puppy will be a good friend.”
Uncomfortable, despite the fact that Ari’s gratitude was exactly what she’d hoped to achieve when she’d brought the pup, Dianna turned away, then stopped when she noticed the bare cottage wall. “The flowers didn’t bloom?”
“Bloom?” Ari laughed. “The seeds have all sprouted and the plants are growing well, but they don’t grow that quickly. They’ll have flowers by the Solstice.”
Solstice? That long? In Tir Alainn, the plants would already be in full bloom. Diana studied the vegetable garden. Small green things covered the ground between the paths of flat stones, but there was nothing ready for the table. “How long do you have to wait?”
“Harvest will begin in a couple of months.”
Dianna didn’t know what to say. “Are you still planting?”
“No, the planting is done. I was doing a bit of weeding and watering before the day got too warm.”
“I’ll help you.” Catching Ari’s apprehensive look, she added with prickly arrogance, “I may not be able to plant, but surely I’m capable enough to pour water.”
Ari tipped her head, her expression thoughtful. “Why do you want to help?”
“Because I can’t work in a garden at home,” she replied without thinking.