The girl sighed and brushed bits of soil from her skirts.
“Do you ride horses?” Alainn asked impulsively.
“Aye, we have horses at home. I much enjoy riding.”
“Then let’s go find some horses and be off for a lengthy ride.”
“Unattended? Without telling anyone of our intentions?”
“Aye well, the farrier, my father, will know where we are off to. Unless, you need to seek out permission.”
Mary looked unsure for a moment, then her face set determinedly. “No, it shouldn’t be a concern.” She jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. “Then, we shall have a glorious afternoon riding the hills!”
Strangely enough, Alainn believed they would.
The entire time the farrier was saddling the black mare, chatting pleasantly with Mary, Alainn’s mind dwelt upon the evening nightshade.
“Do you want a saddle this day, girl?” the farrier asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“No, only the bridle; that will be sufficient. The earl has informed you of our arrangement, then? I will not be accused of stealing his horses this day?”
“He’s spoken to me.”
Mary MacDonald did not ride sidesaddle, as was often the custom with ladies, but she was surprised that Alainn lacked a saddle entirely.
“ ’Tis not uncommon for the Irish not to use saddles,” Alainn explained. “But for me, the reasoning is I like to feel the horse beneath me. I can sense when the animal tenses. I am more aware of how the horse will handle. So, Scottish girls are allowed to ride straddlin’ the horse? ’Tis not considered improper?”
“I have many older brothers so ’tis the way I learned. I have always ridden this way. I dinna ken why people think it improper for a woman to ride this way.”
“ ’Tis men who don’t like it. I am told they believe it might cause a woman’s maidenhead to rupture, leaving her husband on their wedding night uncertain if she is virtuous. ’Tis a common excuse women give their husbands if they have been with another man. Or so I’m told.”
Mary’s face turned deep red.
“Would it be less painful, do you suppose, than the marriage-bed ordeal?”
“Ordeal? You think of your upcoming wedding night as an ordeal?”
“Aye, ’tis how my mother spoke of it. She says the first time is excruciating and every time after is repulsive, something to be tolerated because it is a husband’s right. She says it is most offensive and that I should lie still like a proper lady, to not make a movement or a sound. That I should wait until my husband finishes with the unpleasantness and never allow him to think that I like it, for he will either think I am improper or that I want him to violate me more often. One of my handmaidens, Liza, did not share the same opinion as my mother. But she was not such a proper woman, for she shared the beds of many men. She seemed quite eager to do so.”
Alainn wondered how she got herself into these situations. She was discussing physical pleasure with the woman who was to be Killian’s wife.
“I suppose it depends entirely on the experience, whether a woman will ever find pleasure in the coupling,” she said. “I also believe it is much dependent on how the woman feels toward the man, and how the man treats the woman. I do not think it wrong to reveal your pleasure, if you feel it. I believe that is what was intended for a man and a woman.”
“Have you been with a man, Alainn?” Mary asked. Alainn tensed and her horse snorted softly. “Forgive me if I seem forward, but I suppose knowing you are to be wed tomorrow, I am wondering if you are as nervous about your wedding night as I am.”
“I try not to think about it, for I barely know the man. I have seen him only a handful of times. And though I am not certain you and I know one another well enough to discuss this subject, I will tell you your mother is much mistaken. Physical love can be as beautiful and precious as anything a woman can ever know.”
“So, it isn’t painful then?”
“Perhaps it would be best if you talk to someone else regarding this subject.”
“Who would I speak to? Brigid is virginal and shy, and Iona is bitter. My aunt would surely have a fit of the vapors, and I have no sister. Did your mother speak to you of such matters, Alainn?”
She was about to say that her mother had died when she was just an infant, when there was movement in the thicket. She slowed her horse and came to a stop as Mara stepped out from behind a tree. Seeing Mary, she did not remove her hood.
“You risk being seen so close to the castle?” Alainn asked in a quiet voice.
“What do I have to lose, Alainn, other than my life, which has not turned out quite the way I imagined when I was a girl your age? It has been a goodly time since I last saw you.”
“I have been away for a time,” Alainn answered tersely.
“You are displeased about something?”
Alainn dismounted and walked up close to the witch. Mary looked curious, but stayed upon her horse at a safe distance.
“I would be hard-pressed to find something I am pleased about at the moment,” Alainn whispered to her mother.
“Have you been to the dungeon? Have you located the crest?”
“I attempted it once, but sensed a dark presence within. I intend to go once again once the tournament and celebrations are complete. The dungeon would be a most undesirable place this week for it is surely filled with riff-raff.”
Alainn turned and said in a loud voice, “Mary, this is Mara, an acquaintance of mine. Mara, this is Mary MacDonald, Killian O’Brien’s betrothed.”
The older woman nodded respectfully to the noble woman.
“So this is what has you so disturbed?” she asked Alainn with her mind. “The father of your child intends to marry another. And is that the reason why you wait till week’s end to go to the dungeon? You want to see him wed before you learn your true identity? You may be most rueful if you allow that to happen.”
“It might be simpler if you would just tell me who my father is instead of being so elusive about it.”
“I could tell you, but there would be no proof, and then the curse will never be ended. It is up to you, Alainn. But do not wait too long, for your powers grow, and they may bring about more unrest. Perhaps knowing who your father is will be of no consequence. If you allow your man to be taken away, you will never experience true happiness. I will attest to that most assuredly.”
The horses were moving restlessly, and Alainn looked up toward the sky. The day was growing late, and she must get Mary back to the castle.
“Have you seen Morag’s spirit? Has she come to you?”
“No, not since the day of her wake. I have not even sensed her around me.”
“Perhaps she has gone on then. I thought maybe she would stay awhile to assist you. There is a large black man with unusual patterns painted on his face and arms. He is often found just outside the castle gates, though I met him in the thicket outside the village one evening. He recognized that I was a witch. He knows much of magic. You must speak to him about dissolving the curse. He may know how to assist us. But beware, his powers are great. Make certain he can be trusted before you discuss our dilemma.”
Alainn nodded to Mara, and set off at a gallop back to the castle, Mary keeping pace behind her.
Chapter Nineteen
“But, Siobhan, why did you not tell me she was so like, Shylie?”
“I tried, Father. Years ago, I told you of a girl who reminded me very much of my sister, that the first time I saw her, I wept for days.”
“But, you did not say she was nearly her double. You should have pressed me on the subject. I would have come to see her for myself if I’d known how greatly she resembled your sister.”
“My husband made me believe it was wild imaginings on my part, and no one else at Castle O’Brien had ever met Shylie.”
“Your husband does not give you the respect you deserve, daughter. If not for my grandsons, I would tell you to leave the man and return to your home.”
/> “You would have me leave my husband?” She considered it for a moment but shook her head. “Father, I could never desert my sons. No, my home is here now.”
The elderly man patted her arm consolingly.
“But, tell me of this girl, Siobhan. What do you know of her? Could she be our kin?”
“I have wondered that very thing for years, Father. I have tried to reason how it could be possible, for, in all the years she has been in my life, I have seen resemblances to Rory as well and Teague; sometimes I think I see myself as a young girl. But, I cannot come up with a reasonable explanation for the likenesses.”
“I know this will be a painful subject, my daughter, but could she be your child? By some cruel treachery could one of your lost children have lived and been raised by others?”
“There is no possibility of that, Father. I only bore one daughter and she lived but a matter of hours. I saw her laid in the ground. I met Alainn shortly thereafter, but she was already past three years of age.”
“Then what of her parents? Might they be kin to us?”
“I think not, the families of the old farrier and his wife have been servants to my husband’s family for nearly a century. They have no druid connection that I know of.”
The old man’s brow grew increasingly furrowed.
“Does she possess any abilities, mental or physical? Does she speak the language? Does she have the voice? Do you think she knows of our ways?”
“Father, so many questions! I will tell you what I know. She is a healer and a seer, and I suspect she has control of the weather.”
“By the gods, Siobhan, perhaps she is the one of legend!”
“I am uncertain, Father. I don’t know what other abilities she might have. If she doesn’t know of our connection to those abilities she might keep them guarded so as not to draw suspicion to her powers. I have never spoken the language to her, and though I have listened to her sing a time or two in her garden, ’twas done softly, so it was difficult to tell. And though Rory has a fine singing voice, Riley is tone deaf. Perhaps, as time passes, the druid ways are being lost.”
The elderly man grew sad and nodded. “Aye, as the druid blood grows more dilute, the ways are being lost. And with men such as your husband and many others so opposed to passing the teachings onto their children, one day we will be no more, I fear.”
“But there are qualities passed on through the blood, memories that are inborn.”
“Aye, how else might we explain the girl knowing the name your sister always called your mother? She said, ‘Wee Mama.’ She must be ours somehow! Your eldest brothers were never near this part of the country so they could not have fathered a child, but what of Teige? He was here for those months many years ago.”
“Aye, he was here.” The woman grew saddened at thoughts of her younger brother.
Her father spoke on, “I know he loved a woman, that he spoke of wanting to marry her, but he told me she died. He wanted me to bring my army and start a feud with your husband’s father. That is what our quarrel was about all those years ago. What do you know of this woman, Siobhan?”
His daughter had risen and was watching the jousting in the field below. Rory was galloping toward his opponent. She turned her back and could not watch. The games always unnerved her. Her eyes met her father’s. His stern expression induced her to declare the truth.
“She did not die, Father. Teige was told that falsehood, I found out later. My husband’s father forced them to be kept apart then told Teige she was dead. He left without farewell to me, I think, perceiving me as the enemy as well, for I was helpless to assist him.”
The man became agitated; his face filled with hope. “Could he have fathered a child then? Was there a child, a daughter? You must tell me.”
“Aye, a child was born, but not a girl-child, Father, a son. And I could never be certain it was Teige’s child, for Hugh’s father told us the woman had been with many men.”
“Where is the son? You must take me to him so I can decide for myself.”
“He has died, Father. He was never able-bodied or sound of mind. I tried to view him from a distance but could never see a likeness to Teige or any of our kin. He died some weeks ago. Although I came to despise his mother because of her hellish curse, I felt grieved that she and her son were made to live in such dismal conditions. On the possibility that he could be Teige’s boy, I often had a servant leave food and provisions for them. But, I feel within me he was not Teige’s child.
“I thought perhaps twins were born, that the farrier and his wife took the healthy child, but why would the woman send off a healthy twin and keep the boy who had so many difficulties? None of it made sense to me, and I know the farrier’s wife was with child. She was of an unusually advanced age to carry a child, so everyone in the county knew of her condition. I can make no sense of any of it, for Alainn was surely born to the farrier and his wife, yet I feel such a connection to her, even beyond the physical resemblance to our family. I feel drawn to her.”
The elderly man sat down upon the settee in his daughter’s chambers. “Have you used your seeing ability to think on it, daughter?”
“Aye, I have, but I am not so well skilled in that area, Father. Each of your children was given a druid gift. I have the voice and the musical abilities. Shylie had the gift of second sight. My older brothers, unusual physical strength. But ’twas Teige who had some of each. And you are gifted in many areas, Father. Perhaps you might try to see what you sense from her.
“And there is more, Father. She possesses an amulet, one of ours. I am certain. But the crest has been removed. Until it is found, we cannot be entirely certain of her identity. Did you sense anything when you were near her?”
“Aye well, I was much occupied with my own concerns for your mother, but indeed, I did feel a strong bond to her. If she has the amulet, it must surely be Teige’s. The only others were buried with your siblings and our kin. We must learn more about her. You must arrange for her to be with us for a time. I must see the amulet. Perhaps on the morrow. Would you be opposed to her attending your mother’s burial ritual?”
The woman considered it and smiled sadly. “No, Father, I would be greatly pleased to have her with us, and because she was the last to touch mother, she should be there to bid her a final farewell. I will speak with her at once. But it is Killian who has the amulet at the moment.”
“Why would he have it?”
“She charmed it as well with a protection spell and gave it to him. But, if she is a daughter to the woman who I think is her mother, then I believe she may be more powerful than we know.”
The grey-haired man stamped his foot with impatience.
“Daughter, tell me what you know, the whole of it!”
“I believe she may be the daughter to Mara, the woman Teige loved, the woman who cursed my husband’s line.”
“Was she druid?”
“No! But she is witch. Her mother was a tweenling, half fairy, half human. If Alainn is the product of druid and witch, of a line of fairies, her powers are sure to be great.”
The man tapped his fingers against his chin and considered this for a long while.
“And she is without her amulet to protect her and calm her powers. We must deal with learning her identity at once.”
Lady Siobhan’s eyes widened and she gasped, “Oh dear, Father! I have been so consumed with losing Mother that I nearly forgot what day this is. Alainn is to be wed tomorrow, and I promised her I would assist her in this matter and see to it she is allowed to wed the man she truly loves.”
“She will wed no one until we discover if she is connected to our kin!” the man’s voice boomed. “Who is this man she is to be married to?”
“My husband has selected a local farmer, but Alainn does not care for him.”
“And it is your husband’s nephew she loves? It must be or she would never have given the amulet to him.” The man smiled broadly. “I would be proud to have a kin of ours wed the
lad. He has always been a strong young man with honor and conviction. We must search for the crest to ensure they may be married.”
“Aye and he is promised to the Scottish girl, a match my husband has also arranged, though Killian is much opposed to the arrangement.”
“Then I will see what might be done to alter the plans of Killian’s betrothal. You speak with the young girl, and I will seek your husband. He will not care for any interference on my part, but I think I will be capable of making him see reason.”
“Pray that you will, Father, and I will do what I can to make certain Alainn does not wed the farmer. We have little time. I must be off, Father. May your audience with my husband be fortuitous.”
Chapter Twenty
Alainn stood outside Hugh O’Brien’s bedchamber waiting most impatiently. The guard at the door insisted the chieftain was not willing to see anyone at that time, but she was not planning to be sent away so easily; they had matters to discuss. She stood with arms crossed, glaring at the guard who refused to tell the chieftain she was waiting. When she glanced down the long arched corridor and noticed Killian heading toward his own chambers, she quickly turned her back to him to hide her face, for he would surely be displeased.
The door flung open before her and Breena McTeer came out, straightening her crumpled clothing and carrying a chamber pot. She glowered, red-faced, at Alainn and hurried away. Before the guard could prevent it, Alainn pushed her way inside the door and strode toward the partially-clad chieftain.
“Get her out!” he hollered to the guard who was already in the process of trying to grab her struggling body, when Killian barged inside.
“Uncle!” he cried.
“What the hell is this!” roared the chieftain. “If either of you is here to talk to me about the marriage on the morrow you’ll not persuade me to cancel it. It will happen! There have been far too many people seeking me today regarding this topic. There seems to be as much interest in it as there was when the English King Henry took his bride!”
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