Warrior Untamed

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Warrior Untamed Page 22

by Mayhue, Melissa


  This was a perfect example of why he hated dealing with the Fae. Were it not for Bridget’s desire to see her brother happy, he would wash his hands of these creatures forever.

  “And what right have you to criticize me,” Syrie demanded, “to order me to do that which I know I must not? Is it not bad enough that your rash behavior has called down the attention of every being in every world to what happens here in this very spot? There are serious consequences for disobeying my goddess. Consequences I’d rather not pay, thank you very much.”

  “Consequences and your false goddess be damned!” Thunder pounded the sky above them and the earth trembled under their feet. He shouldn’t allow his emotions to run wild, but for Brie he would do anything. “It is your duty. This is what you were born to do, Elf!”

  “You well know I’m a Faerie, not an Elf!” she shouted back, her temper ignited by his. “None of you are ever satisfied! No matter how much I tread the line, no matter how often I give. Fine: I’ll grant you what you want. But it won’t stop with Jamesy. It never does. You say that’s all you want now, but there’s always another in need of their one true love. Malcolm, Christiana, now Jamesy. Next will it be all of his friends? And all their relatives? The friends and relatives of every man, woman, and child at Castle MacGahan? So be it, Northman. No matter the wrath of my goddess, may each of them find their own true SoulMate! There. There is surely nothing left for you to ask of me. Is that what you wanted?”

  “It is, indeed, sweet Elf!” With a kiss to her forehead, he picked up the furious little Faerie and swung her around in a circle before setting her down to race off to the keep. He had no particular desire to be near her when she had a chance to reconsider the magnitude of what she’d done, or the full consequences of her tantrum.

  Wedding Day

  SYRIE AÍ BYRN ran her hands down the front of her dress, brushing away imaginary wrinkles. She needed something to keep her hands and her mind busy.

  She wished, for perhaps the one hundredth time today, that Patrick were here instead of at Tordenet. As annoying and bossy as he could be, he was always sure to give her a platitude to console her or an argument to distract her from her worries.

  And worries she had aplenty.

  When the Tinklers had passed through the last time, Editha had carried a warning from the goddess herself. Danu had fixed her eye upon Castle MacGahan and the Great Lady would brook no more indiscretions on Syrie’s part. No more tinkering with individual lives. Bringing Dani here had been the gift she was granted when she’d been allowed to pass through the curtain separating Wyddecol from the Mortal Plane with her Magic intact.

  She should have returned to Wyddecol as soon as her reason for being here was fulfilled, but she hadn’t. She’d found pleasure in this world with these people. She’d felt needed.

  But being needed occasionally led her to use her forbidden Magic, and because of that, the goddess was displeased.

  So displeased, in fact, she’d sent Editha to inform Syrie that she was forbidden from returning to her home world until she could prove herself worthy of her powers.

  And should she fail? Editha had been clear on that point, too. The goddess herself would see to Syrie’s punishment if she used her Magic again.

  All she had to do was mind her actions and go about her days as if she were a Mortal. It should have been so simple.

  But today, guilted by that great oaf of a Northman, Thor’s annoying grandson, she’d gone far, far beyond an individual bit of tinkering or indiscreet use of her Magic. She’d agreed to set to rights a great swath of what her people had broken well over a millennium ago.

  While a tiny corner of her heart rejoiced at the virtue of her actions, her rest of her internal organs quivered in fear of the imminent consequences.

  It was only a matter of time. There was no way something this large could sneak by unnoticed. Retribution would come, swift and sure, and Syrie’s world would never be the same again.

  MALCOLM MACDOWYLT, LAIRD of the MacGahan, skimmed his gaze over the crowd filling his great hall. They were his people, his responsibility, and for the first time since he’d made that claim, they were all safe from the evil that had hunted him.

  A great weight had lifted from his shoulders with Torquil’s death. The people of MacGahan could look toward a future free from the threat of his half brother’s vengeance.

  He felt ten years younger. Even the headaches that had plagued him for the past year were gone.

  “Malcolm!”

  He looked up to find his beautiful Dani running toward him, her cheeks pink with excitement. She’d been a whirlwind of energy over the past days, organizing what she’d insisted was a proper wedding for Hall and Brie. He’d never seen the like of what she’d planned, but it made her happy and that was all that mattered to him.

  “Is everything ready in here?” she asked. “Jeanne is putting the finishing touches on Brie’s hair, and then we’ll start her walk down the aisle. Once their vows are recited, that’s your cue to kick off the wedding reception, which will rival your old Odin’s Feast. Ada’s even serving up the bog myrtle beer, so there’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight, if you know what I mean.”

  No matter how long she’d spent in his world, in his time, her strange way with words still brought a smile to his lips. She was the joy of his life, and he sent a silent thanks to Elesyria for having brought his Dani to him.

  He snagged her hand and lifted it to his lips before tucking it under his arm. “Stop for a moment, love. Take a breath and enjoy what’s been accomplished.”

  “I don’t have time to take a breath. I’ve a million last-minute things that need doing.”

  “And they’ll all still be here a minute from now. Relax. Enjoy what you’ve already accomplished.”

  With an arm around her shoulder to keep her at his side, he surveyed the room once more.

  Hall caught his eye first, standing on the dais with Chase Noble at his side, impatiently drumming his fingers against his sporran as he awaited the arrival of his bride.

  Impatience or nerves. It was, after all, the big warrior’s big day.

  Chase leaned away from the groom to catch Christiana’s hand as she hurried by, no doubt on some wedding errand Dani had devised. Malcolm’s sister stopped and shared a quick conversation with her new husband—and a not-so-quick kiss—before going on her way.

  Christiana had blossomed into her own since she’d found her life partner in Chase Noble, smiling more than he’d ever known her to.

  “We’ve a good life,” Malcolm mused, tightening his arm around his wife. “Surrounded by those we love. Our family has certainly grown in this past year, has it no?”

  “It has at that,” Dani agreed, turning her radiant smile on full force. “And it’s getting ready to do some more growing, my love.” She pulled his hand from her shoulder and rested his palm against her stomach. “In about six or seven months.”

  Words deserted him as the blood in his body drained to his feet. He could only stare into her smiling face, doing his best to absorb the glorious news.

  “A child?” he managed at last. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” she answered, her smile even broader than before. “I wasn’t going to say anything yet, but I suppose a joyous day like this is as good a time as any to tell you, right?”

  A child. His child. “How did this happen?”

  The musical tinkle of Dani’s laughter drew several sets of eyes to where they stood.

  “Well, dear husband, we can’t spend all our time acting like rabbits without producing a bunny or two, can we?” She squeezed his hand. “You happy about this?”

  Happy? He was beyond happy. He was ecstatic. Here he’d thought the day he married Dani was the best of his life. He should have realized that with her at his side, his life could only continue to get better and better.

  JAMESY MACCULLOCH SAT on the bench in the great hall, waiting for a signal from Lady Danielle for whatever new oddities sh
e had planned for the day.

  Already she’d ordered all the tables moved so that they lined the walls. The benches were left behind to form neat, angled rows of seating, reminding him of the pews in the cathedral he’d visited in Edinburgh. And considering the whole of the castle was gathered to witness the marriage of his sister to Hall O’Donar, he was forced to give grudging approval of the arrangement.

  Eccentric little thing that Lady Danielle was, she must please his laird well enough, since Malcolm appeared more relaxed than Jamesy had ever known him to be.

  Theirs was a happiness Jamesy might be tempted to envy, if he were a man with any interest in such a dull, domesticated life.

  He wasn’t.

  He would, however, pray that his sister had found the same sort of delight. She certainly seemed well on target for it. He’d never seen her so contented as when she was in the presence of her groom.

  As pleased as he was for his sister’s happiness, his emotions were in turmoil as he waited for her wedding to begin. So much had happened in the last weeks to hand him the freedom he’d so long desired.

  An immense sense of relief filled his heart. His days of worrying over Brie’s rash behavior were quickly coming to a close. In an hour’s time, his wildling sister would be O’Donar’s responsibility. Though, as he’d pointed out to the big warrior last night more than once, Jamesy would gladly hand him his arse on a spit if he failed to care for her properly.

  Jamesy fidgeted on the bench, anxious for the day’s events to get moving. The excitement coursing through him was more than relief. The exchange of vows was to be followed by a feast that would last late into the evening, though he planned to make his exit early.

  Tomorrow would mark the beginning of a new adventure, and Jamesy was nothing if not a man who lived for the next adventure. With the security of both Castle MacGahan and Tordenet now assured, he was free to join his friends Finn and Alex in settling the problems that plagued the MacKillican clan.

  Tomorrow the three friends would set out, beginning their journey with a short side trip to see Mathew and Eleyne safely returned to their home at Castle Glenluce. Once that task was out of the way, they would head for Alex’s family home, where his friend would inform his father of his intent to join Finn and Jamesy in their search for adventure.

  With the English rattling swords at the border, he doubted his peace and quiet would last long. A good thing, too, since, to his way of thinking, peace and quiet were highly overrated.

  Lady Danielle’s laughter drew his attention and she waved her hand in his direction, his signal to join her outside the entry doors so that he could walk Brie the length of the great room to present her hand to Hall O’Donar.

  His wait was over.

  CHRISTIANA MACDOWYLT NOBLE hurried through the great hall toward the kitchens to fetch a sprig from the rosemary plant Cook kept there. Dani had insisted that Brie must have something new to carry on her walk down the aisle. Apparently the old, the borrowed, and the blue items weren’t satisfactory on their own.

  Though she’d grown exceptionally fond of her sister-in-law, Christiana was utterly grateful to Chase for having insisted upon a quick, quiet, private exchange of vows when they wed. All this attention would have been far too much for her taste.

  Brie, on the other hand, appeared to be floating through the whole experience, allowing others to set the terms and rules of her wedding, her eyes focused on the prize at the end of the day.

  Christiana had known from her first meeting with Brie that she was an extraordinarily strong woman. Her good grace in the face of these festivities only served to solidify that opinion.

  Ahead of her, Chase stood on the raised dais next to his friend and brother, Hall O’Donar. According to Dani, Chase served the purpose of best man in this ceremony.

  She couldn’t agree more with the title. Her handsome, wonderful Chase, the light of her life, was indeed the best man she’d ever met.

  She could hardly wait to travel with him next month to take possession of Tordenet. Malcolm’s home was a wonderful place, and everyone had gone above and beyond in their efforts to make her feel welcome. But returning to Tordenet was a dream come true. There she’d be close to Orabilis and surrounded by the things she loved.

  Chase snagged her arm as she attempted to pass, and pulled her close.

  “I canna dally, my love. The bride is waiting on my return,” she said.

  “She’s waited all day. Another minute isn’t going to kill her.”

  He dipped his head to kiss her, and for an instant, transported away by the feel of his lips on hers, she forgot that anyone else shared the hall with them.

  Hall’s pointed clearing of his throat brought her back to her senses, and her face heated rapidly as she realized the groom wasn’t the only one who’d been watching.

  By the old gods, Chase had the ability to steal away what little sense she’d been given.

  “Save me a seat,” he called after her as she raced away on her mission.

  As if he thought he’d need to remind her to do such a thing. He was such a part of her now, she couldn’t imagine not having him at her side. Thanks to him, and the Faerie who’d helped her find him, her life was every bit as wonderful as the charred runes she wore around her neck had foretold it would be.

  HALL O’DONAR ALLOWED himself a wide grin as Christiana hurried from the dais. His debt to his old Faerie friend was settled well and good. Chase was safe and sound and, from the looks of it, couldn’t be happier.

  That this was due in part to Syrie’s intervention only proved that what he’d done this morning in tricking her had been the right thing to do in the long run. Granted, it would take some time for the Magic to run its course for everyone concerned, but in the end, everyone in this room would benefit.

  Even the hot-tempered little Faerie herself.

  It was shaping up to be a banner decade for weddings at Castle MacGahan.

  A hush fell over the crowd as a lone piper picked up the strains of a song unlike any Hall had heard before. All heads turned to the back of the room, toward the great entrance doors where Jamesy MacCulloch entered with the most beautiful woman Hall had ever seen in his life on his arm.

  “Here we go,” Chase whispered next to him. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

  Hall couldn’t answer, could hardly breathe. All that was left to him was to stare at the woman walking toward him, her face adorned with a smile to match his own.

  By some frippery known only to the fairer sex, Bridget’s hair had been piled upon her head and surrounded by a garland of dried flowers.

  She wore a dress of pale yellow, similar in color to the frock the Tinklers had given her, but the similarities stopped there. This garment had been fitted to his woman, baring her shoulders, hugging her breasts, and flaring over her hips.

  A thin strip of rawhide circled her neck and disappeared into the lace and ribbons that contained her breasts.

  She wore his necklace.

  “I give unto yer care the well-being and happiness of my only sister,” Jamesy said when they reached the dais. As he placed her hand upon Hall’s, he whispered, “And dinna you forget the warning I gave you last night, aye?”

  As if Hall needed his brother-in-law’s admonition to watch after Bridget.

  “You look . . .” He paused, awed by the moment.

  “Amazing,” Chase whispered loudly.

  “You look amazing,” Hall finished.

  Perhaps this was why Lady Danielle had insisted that every groom needed a best man. To offer help when his words failed him.

  He tried again on his own. “Your dress is . . .” Not like anything he’d ever seen before.

  Bridget shrugged, her cheeks coloring a delightful pink. “A bit revealing, is it no? Lady Dani assures me it’s quite modern.”

  “Beautiful,” Hall assured her. “The gown is almost as beautiful as the woman who wears it.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears. />
  “Vows!” Chase hissed, with an elbow to Hall’s back.

  Vows. Yes. Everyone in the great hall waited for him to start.

  He cleared his throat and squeezed the hand he held within his own two.

  “I, Hall O’Donar, take thee, Bridget MacCulloch . . .” He began reciting the words that would change his life forever, setting him on a path to happiness far greater than he had ever expected.

  Epilogue

  BRIE UNFURLED HER blanket over the soft green grass and kneeled to unpack the basket of food she’d brought. Once the midday meal was laid out and ready, she sat back to await Hall’s arrival.

  As usual, she was much too early.

  Not that she would complain about sitting here in the quiet beauty of this Irish hilltop, with the sun warm upon her skin and nothing but green as far as she could see. Far from it. Haven Castle had truly lived up to its name.

  The spring and summer in her new home had been the most glorious months of her life, with each and every day bringing some new delight.

  Saturday, as today was, had become her favorite day of the week.

  With the arrival of warm weather, she and Hall had taken to meeting out here for their midday meal every Saturday, followed by her lessons. Between her determination and Hall’s, she’d managed to turn her knowledge of letters into an ability to read and write over the past seven months.

  More or less. Brie was the first to admit that she could decipher words much better than she could form them with the tedious quill and ink that often taxed her patience to its limit.

  She might have mastered even more, had their Saturday lessons not always dissolved into unfettered lovemaking. Though, in truth, it was mostly the lovemaking that kept her coming back for the lessons.

  A smile lit her face as she spotted her beloved husband in the distance. He rode toward her at breakneck speed, shirtless, standing in his stirrups, one arm raised in greeting.

 

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