Warrior's Moon

by Lucy Monroe

“What gifts? What do you mean?”

  “Each Éan is gifted with mystical talents during the ceremony of their first shift.”

  “We do not have a ceremony for our first shift?” she asked, rather than said, because she was not sure.

  “The Faol gave up many of their ceremonies over the centuries, but the Éan have always been the race with more mystical abilities.”

  “Which makes some of you believe you are better than the Faol?”

  “Aye.”

  “And many of the English believe themselves better than the Scots.” This false sense of superiority seemed to be a universal problem among all of humanity.

  His hazel eyes doubted her words. “You do not?”

  “There is enough to occupy my mind and time without spending any of it worrying if I am in some way better than others.”

  “Even a barbarian?”

  Heat suffused her face. “I said that in anger.”

  He nodded.

  “You believe me?”

  “We are Chrechte. I could smell a lie.”

  Oh. Yes. It would take effort to grow accustomed to being around others of her kind besides her brother.

  Which meant if he lied, she would smell it on him. “You are no longer disappointed to be mated to an Englishwoman?”

  “No.” Only truth and sincerity infused his scent and his tone.

  Inexplicable tears burned her eyes. She blinked them away. “That is good.”

  He smiled, his handsome face even more compelling.

  “You are very appealing in your looks.” Had she really said that?

  Perhaps there had been something besides valerian root and chamomile in her tea.

  His smile turned to a feral grin. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Do not be arrogant.”

  “According to you, I have reason to be.”

  “Annoying warrior.”

  She went to rinse the cloth and wring it out, but it was an awkward task with only one hand.

  He took the cloth from her and did it, handing it back to her when he was done. “Your touch, even in such an innocent fashion, evokes a strong reaction in me.”

  Her gaze flitted to his very large manhood. “I noticed.”

  He chuckled. “You are careful to look everywhere but there.”

  “We are married, but we are not mated.”

  He stilled, his expression turning almost frightening. “This is true.”

  “I would prefer not to engage in certain…activities until after we are mated,” she said, her words speeding up until the final ones ran together.

  “Why?” Had he even understood them?

  “Neither my brother nor my dearest friend was there to witness our promises.” They’d barely spoken any. “I would have both by my side when I speak my Chrechte vows of mating.”

  He didn’t reply and she kept herself occupied finishing what she had started.

  “Look at me,” he ordered in an almost gentle tone when she was finished tending him and had dropped the cloth back in the bowl. He was back to looking and sounding dangerous. “Do you question the validity of our marriage because it did not happen before a priest?”

  “No, though I will expect a priest’s blessing in the future.” It was not something she was willing to compromise on.

  “Aye.”

  She nodded.

  Surprisingly, he relaxed. “Why, then, do you wish to wait on consummation?”

  She shook her head. She did not want to see his anger at her request.

  “Audrey.”

  She bit her lip at the command in his tone, but did not obey it. “Surely you can understand my desire.”

  He barked out a laugh. “I think, sweet mate, it is you who does not understand desire.”

  He was not far off. Audrey was wholly innocent, Shona’s claim earlier that there was great pleasure to be found in the act of copulation for a woman, the closest thing she had received to instruction on the matter.

  “I wish to wait,” she repeated.

  “Mate.” There was no doubt that this time, Vegar fully expected her compliance.

  He would learn that using that tone would not always benefit him. Another time.

  She found herself lifting her head so their eyes met.

  His were devoid of the anger, frustration or even disappointment she expected. “You are healing, mate. I would not choose this moment to consummate our marriage regardless.”

  “Oh.” That was…it was really rather considerate of him. “Thank you.”

  “Dinna thank me for doing right by you. No matter our differences, you can always expect that, at the very least.”

  “Oh.” His words were not as comforting as the unexpectedly kind expression on his masculine features. “Can I expect anything else?”

  “What do you mean?” The question as much as the perplexed drawing together of his brows made it quite clear Vegar truly had no inkling what she was talking about.

  It was a bit disheartening, but she forged on anyway. “Do you believe in love between mates?”

  “I believe it happens, yes.” He did not sound any further enlightened.

  She had no choice but to bluntly ask, “Will you love me, do you think?”

  “Will you love me?” he asked, instead of answering.

  She frowned at him, wanting to lie, but after his consideration felt obligated to reply with the truth. He’d smell the lie anyway. Arrogant, uncooperative, decidedly not forthcoming warrior.

  He waited with eyes narrowed, a tension about him she could not understand.

  She blew out a breath and spoke the truth. “Yes, I think I will.”

  “You do not sound happy about that.”

  “Truly? I am not.” She’d seen the pain a woman lived with loving a mate who had not discernible deeper emotions for her.

  “Is it because I am Éan?”

  “It is because you are a hard man. I do not think love will come easily to you.” If at all.

  “This very morn, I would have agreed with you.”

  “Something has changed your opinion in such a short time?”

  “Aye, you could say that.”

  “What?” she asked, perplexed.

  “Seeing you fight with another wolf to protect me.”

  “How could that be?” In no way had she been at her best.

  “You could have died.”

  That was true enough.

  “I do not know how to fight.” In fact, she’d done very little damage. Thinking back on those fraught minutes, it was a wonder she’d survived them at all.

  “You fought with your heart. That, sometimes, is more important than training.”

  “You killed him.” She would never regret the killing blow had come from him and not her.

  Audrey did not think she would like knowing she had killed a man, be he in his beast form or not when he died.

  “Aye.” The word had a weary, unhappy undertone.

  She would have expected him to be pleased, or at the very least proud of his feat. It was clear, however, that he regretted the other Chrechte’s death.

  “You didn’t want to.”

  “Too many Chrechte have died from bloodshed.”

  “It is in our nature.”

  “Our human nature, mayhap.”

  Her lips curved in a small smile at the joke she knew he meant half seriously. “It will be no easy thing to fight the Fearghall.”

  “You are right, but the Éan and Cahir have been doing it for centuries.”

  “It is different now, is it not?” This joining of the clans by the Éan, it changed things.

  The MacLeod laird’s machinations were worrisome as well.

  “It must be done.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your brother will join the Cahir.”

  “How can you be sure?” An awful thought formed. “You will not force him?”

  “Nay. He has your heart. He seeks justice and truth. The Cahir will do well to have him join our r
anks. And Thomas will find the destiny he seeks.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  The firm set of Vegar’s jaw and mouth said he did not agree.

  But how could he claim otherwise? “You truly are very arrogant, aren’t you?”

  “I am a warrior of the Cahir.”

  “And that makes you always right?”

  “It makes me more aware than even others of our kind.”

  “You would have me believe that with your training, you can tell a man’s character after a single meeting?”

  “We are Cahir.”

  “You already said that.”

  He smiled at her jibe rather than getting annoyed. “Chrechte have many gifts, which, when honed to a knife point, can slice through deception and illusions.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You do not sound convinced.”

  “And you sound much too certain.”

  “I am not claiming all Cahir, much less all Chrechte, can read a man’s nature upon meeting him, but I can.”

  “How?”

  “Our sacred stones bestow many gifts.”

  “So?” Would she spend the rest of her life trying to understand this maddening man’s riddles?

  “So, one of my gifts is to read a man’s heart.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Even his most deeply hidden tendencies are as transparent as a loch in the still morning air.”

  “You can read thoughts?”

  “Nay. Character.”

  It was all so very confusing.

  “That explains it then,” she said, her intention to tease as she felt nothing had really been explained at all.

  “Aye.”

  “You don’t know my meaning.”

  “What is it then?”

  “You were so quick to judge me lacking when you learned of my country of birth.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  “Yes, but an understandable one.”

  “I am glad you think so.”

  She nodded. “If I had been a man, you could have read my heart. But since I am a woman, you had to spend time with me first.”

  She giggled at his outraged expression, her laughter ending on a yawn as the tea took its effect.

  “You will lead me a merry chase, I think, Audrey of England.”

  “I do not think I am of England any longer. I have no home to return to.” Not if she wanted to keep Shona safe.

  “I am your home now.”

  That sounded nice.

  She yawned again, trying to smile. “After the Chrechte ceremony, you will be.”

  He did not argue and she counted that a victory with the overconfident Éan warrior.

  Vegar helped her to get comfortable in the furs, laying down beside her in a most comforting manner as she slipped into tea-induced sleep despite the hour of day.

  * * *

  When they returned to the keep, Maon and the two others who had promised fidelity were taken for intensive retraining with those assigned to the task by the Sinclair. They would learn the ways of true Chrechte honor that Caelis himself had undertaken before going to Balmoral Island to train with the Cahir.

  The warrior who was not MacLeod was taken to the prisoner’s tower. He had yet to reveal his clan and the Sinclair had declared him prisoner until such time as his loyalty could be ascertained.

  Unlike a year ago, Caelis was no longer shocked by the fact the Sinclair did not simply kill the offenders. Talorc had not ordered Caelis’s death, either.

  He was far more impressed by the laird’s wisdom and strength of character now, though. As Talorc had taught him, and later the Balmoral had reiterated, it was easy to kill. Not so easy to convince a man to change his path.

  Shona insisted on Caelis and the children eating, though she did not even pretend to pick at the food Abigail had placed before them.

  “How is Audrey?” she asked Abigail as soon as Marjory and Eadan were tucking into their food.

  There could be no doubt that Shona wished she could be with her friend, checking on her well-being in person. She put her children’s needs ahead of everything, however.

  The fact that included staying with Caelis was to his benefit.

  “Audrey will be fine. She’ll heal fast, you’ll see,” Abigail promised. “She is resting with Vegar in his room.”

  “But…” Shona stopped, clearly unsure how to go on. After a guilty look at Caelis, she simply bit her lip and nodded. What was that about?

  And then it hit him. Shona was upset her friend was in a compromising situation with the Éan warrior, but did not feel she had the right to say anything after the way Audrey had caught her with Caelis that morning.

  “When is the ceremony?” Caelis asked Abigail, no doubts at all that one was planned.

  “This evening.”

  “What ceremony?” Shona demanded. “You aren’t telling me that Audrey and Vegar are getting married, this evening? Are you?” Shona’s emerald gaze implored Abigail. “They’ve only just met.”

  Abigail bit her lip and looked at Caelis as if asking him a question.

  He had no guess as to what that question might be.

  After a couple of tense seconds, Abigail blew out a clearly frustrated breath and frowned at Caelis before smiling tentatively at Shona. “Talorc heard their vows before he would let Vegar take her upstairs.”

  “But…” Looking lost, Shona seemed to sink in on herself. “What is the ceremony you two are speaking of then?”

  Caelis reached over and brushed her cheek. He wanted to touch her all the time. It was only more acute in his conriocht form.

  This time, though, he was seeking to give comfort. “It is for their mating.”

  “She is my dearest friend and she was married without me.” Shona gave Caelis a very unfriendly look. “I do not believe I like this world of the Chrechte.”

  “Things are not done the same in the Highlands, Chrechte or not,” Abigail offered in a clear attempt to smooth things over.

  The gaze Shona leveled at the Sinclair lady was not exactly warm either. “Even in the Highlands, weddings do not happen in such an unplanned fashion.”

  “You would be surprised.” Abigail’s tone was wry, her expression knowing.

  Shona crossed her arms and went back to glaring at Caelis as if the circumstances were entirely of his making. “I won’t have it.”

  “She will be there for ours,” he promised, hoping that reminder would improve Shona’s rapidly deteriorating mood.

  Her eyes snapped green fire. “Our what, Caelis who would be laird to Clan MacLeod?”

  “Our wedding.” He had made his intentions clear. Did she doubt them now?

  “I am no Chrechte to be dictated to by my animal nature. And none can deny that I have earned the right to choose my own future. There will be no second marriage dictated to me.”

  Chapter 17

  A Chrechte’s senses are superior to a human’s, but he does not always interpret what they tell him aright.

  —GUAIRE OF THE SINCLAIR

  “You would deny me?” Caelis asked, his dizziness after shifting nothing compared to the swirling in his head now.

  Was she intent on denying his claim on her and their children? “Is it because you have seen my conriocht and now find marriage to me too frightening a prospect?”

  “It is not your conriocht I find objectionable.”

  Meaning what? It was his wolf she found unpleasing? No. She’d claimed to trust him in animal form and had behaved near entranced by his beast when Caelis had shared the wolf with her.

  His man, then?

  He had never heard of such a thing. How could she find the form most like her humanity unacceptable?

  “Because it was the man who betrayed me and who seeks to run roughshod over my feelings and rights as an independent widow now.”

  What rights as a widow?

  “Those recognized by the law; while not near the freedoms granted a man, they are far superior to those
of a never-married woman.”

  She was right. Having questions he had not uttered aloud answered would take some getting used to. He had thought the question, though. Mindspeak seemed limited to directed thoughts and he would have to guard his own if he did not want to share them with his mate.

  Chrechte were taught that though mindspeak was a benefit of a true bond, it did not always happen immediately upon bonding with one’s sacred mate. It was like other gifts of the Chrechte, bestowed in its own time and growing stronger with use. Just as his ability to shift had been.

  “What have these legal boons granted to your status to do with my claims to our children, or you, my mate?” he demanded, more confused than he’d ever been.

  Talorc had once given the opinion that women were more different from men than the Chrechte from their human brethren. The man obviously knew what he was talking about.

  “Everything!”

  “Mama?” Marjory asked around a mouthful of berries. “You mad at our new daddy?”

  Expecting Shona to deny it to protect her daughter from upset, he was shocked when she nodded her head without hesitation.

  “I am, sweeting. Very angry.”

  “Oh.” Marjory went back to eating, taking a bite of her bread and cheese, apparently unworried.

  Why this was different than her mother’s upset before, he did not know.

  Shona turned her glacial green gaze back on Caelis. “Well?”

  He had no idea what it was she was expecting. “You can invite anyone you like to our wedding,” he promised, hoping she didn’t have anyone in England she’d want brought north to witness their vows.

  They needed to marry quickly, as he had to return to the MacLeod lands and wrest the pack and clan from Uven’s control.

  “There. Isn’t. Going. To. Be. Any. Wedding.” Each word came out with precise enunciation, her voice as cold as the look in her eyes.

  Unexpected pain lanced through Caelis. “You are denying me my mate and my children?”

  There was no softening in her expression, but she shook her head with firm decision. “No.”

  “You said—”

  “There will be no wedding or mating ritual, or any permanent bonds acknowledged between us until you have done what needs doing.”

  “What needs doing?” he asked with genuine confusion.

  The way she reacted, it was clear she believed he was being sarcastic. Shona’s eyes narrowed, her body going rigid as a distinct string of words came across the mating bond.