“And ye’re such a creature?”
He straightened and determination filled his eyes when he looked back at her. “Tá me—”
Rocks tumbled down the embankment leading to the lake shore, punctuated by a colorful curse in a thickly accented voice that cut off Donal’s words.
“By the valkries wings Neala, what in hell?” Tyr said as he skidded to a stop on the rocky shore.
The pain in his voice made Neala cringe but the look of betrayal in his eyes was so much worse. Still, she was reluctant to pull away from Donal. He was her touchstone and she feared that if she let go of him she’d spin out of control.
“Tyr, I…” she couldn’t finish because she had no idea what to say.
Twice in as many days Tyr had caught her in such a state. Heat burned her face at the realization. What must he think of her? The fierce glare he shot Donal carried no power but held plenty of threat. Neala thought she saw the glimmer of moisture in his eyes before he spun and stormed off toward the forest path. Dredging up all the strength of will she could, Neala moved back from Donal. Her energy pulled at his and his at her, making it even harder.
“I’m sorry, I have to go talk to him,” she said.
Though his expression was stoic, Donal nodded and let go of her. Her power slowed her more than the water of the lake, resisting each step she took away from him. The pull eased a little once she reached the shore but the desire to return to his side remained. Fighting the instinct to glance over her shoulder, she forced her eyes forward as she ran after Tyr. Her feet flew across the rocky shore and down the pine-needle strewn path, catching up to Tyr in only moments. When he refused to stop, she stepped in front of him and used a touch of her power to push against him.
Eyes narrowing, he stopped and took a step back as if repelled by her. The pain in his eyes stabbed at her heart.
“Don’t you dare tell me that wasn’t what it looked like.” The anger that punctuated each word made her cringe.
“I won’t,” she said in a voice that sounded as small as it felt.
Tyr’s glossy blue eyes bore into her, the cords of his jaw muscles standing out as he ground his teeth. “Really, you’re not even going to try then?”
Her mouth opened but the words wouldn’t come. She had no idea what to say to make it better. Shaking his head, Tyr spun away from her. Before he could storm off she grabbed his arm. He tried to wrench away from her and she had to pour power into her hand to keep her grip. Rage contorted his face when he turned back to her.
“It seems I’m destined to find you in another man’s arms. First the Irishman, which I get. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He moved closer as he spat the words at her, forcing her back a step.
“And now, a slave. Really Neala, a slave? What in hell? Would you have preferred I try to have my way with you? Would that have made you notice me?”
Suddenly Donal was between them. “I don’t think I like what ye’re implyin’,” he said in a tone that vibrated with power and warning.
They stood chest to chest, eyes boring into one another. The contrast between the two of them was startling, like sunlight and darkness. Though they were nearly the same brutish size, they couldn’t have been more different.
Tyr’s lips pulled up into a humorless smile. “Fine then, I won’t imply, I’ll come out and say it. The woman gets around so you’d better satisfy her fast, slave.”
Donal’s back went rigid and his hands tightened into fists. His lips curled back from his teeth which were clenched tight together. “How dare ye speak about Neala that way.” Green power crackled along his dark skin.
The tension in the air was bordering on exploding, Neala could feel it deep in her power. Not wanting a repeat of the other night, she forced her way between them. With a hand on each of their chests, she felt like she was stuck between two boulders that were about to collide.
“Stop, please stop,” she begged them.
Relaxing beneath her hand, Donal nodded. Tyr however, puffed up and shifted his furious gaze to her. Through the anger she caught a glimpse of the pain he was trying to hide. Knowing she had put that pain there, again, made her feel sick. He shook his head and looked down, blond curls falling forward and obscuring his face.
“I’m just a barbaric Dane, I should have known that’s all you would see. I’m an idiot,” he said before turning and walking away.
Heart aching more with each step he took, she tried to get her numb legs to move and couldn’t. “Níl. I’m the idiot,” she mumbled.
Grumbling something unintelligible, Tyr sped up. When he was out of sight, Donal stepped beside her. That he didn’t try to block her path meant everything to her, yet she couldn’t go after Tyr. Not without explaining.
“I know how bad that seems, me knowin’ a Dane and all—”
Donal put a finger on her lips and stopped her words.
“Ye don’t have to explain. Yer ma had to heal him, I know. And ye’re a good person, of course ye would care about him,” he said.
Head dropping into her hands, Neala mumbled. “Does everyone know? As if things aren’t bad enough.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve complicated ye’re life more,” he said.
Just the sight of him and the feel of his energy—like the warmth of a fire on a cold night—was enough to take away some of her pain. But the guilt remained. She didn’t want to hurt Tyr, she liked him, a lot. Looking into Donal’s eyes though, she found she couldn’t regret kissing him. What she felt for Donal was instantaneous, and pulled at her very being. It couldn’t be denied.
“I’m not.” Giving him her full attention, she grabbed both of his hands. “I’m not sure what we are to each other, or why I’m so drawn to ye. But I want to find out.”
The creases around Donal’s eyes relaxed a bit and he almost smiled. “So do I.”
Remembering Tyr’s words, she flushed. “What he said… it’s not true.”
With a finger, Donal lifted her chin. The look he gave her, so full of patience and longing, wiped her guilt away.
“I know. Ye’re an amazin’ lass with more honor and self-respect than I’ve seen in any other. We’ll take things slow, figure it out as we go,” he said.
Her knees grew weak and she had to cling to his hands to keep her balance. It was an enormous relief to know that not all lads would expect her to lie with them so quickly. Bren was the first who had ever taken any interest in her and after Tyr’s words she had begun to fear they may all be that way.
She smiled at Donal. “I’d like that. Will ye meet me tomorrow?”
“I’d love to,” he said.
Hand in hand, they walked back and got their clothes. Neither spoke much on the walk but it was a comfortable silence. As they neared the end of the forest the grunts and mock battle cries of Tyr’s daily work out sent tension singing through Neala. Fingers tightening around her hand, Donal stopped.
“I should go. I don’t think I could resist the urge to teach the Dane a lesson if I saw him again. And besides, I’m not sure how ye’re parents would feel about a black warrior friend of Lorcan’s hangin’ around their daughter.”
The thought of not seeing him again made her stomach twist. “But ye’ll come by tomorrow?”
“Tá, can ye meet me here, at the edge of the woods?”
He raised her hand and pressed his full lips to the back of it. The sensation of his soft lips, combined with the tingling of his power that spilled onto her, made her shiver. He laughed against her skin, sending a whole new wonderful sensation dancing along her nerves.
Letting go, he took a step back toward the forest. “Until tomorrow then.”
Their power clung together like two vines that refused to be separated. How he kept walking against that pull, Neala couldn’t fathom. From the strain on his face it was clear it wasn’t easy.
“Until tomorrow,” she echoed.
A breath shuddered from her as Donal got far enough away that their power released its hold on one another. The
urge to run after him was so strong she almost gave in, but the sound of Tyr working out kept her rooted to the spot. First thing was first.
27
No matter what she said, Tyr refused to speak to her. For at least a candlemark she had begged him to let her explain but he had refused. Eventually had had locked himself in his room. Only when her parents returned had she given up.
Later that night Bren came to her window and begged for forgiveness, saying he only wanted to bond with her, not dishonor her. Then he had gone on about how if she would only lie with him, he was sure they would bond. She had closed the shutters on him. There was too much on her mind to deal with him.
Neala woke feeling exhausted. Sleep had been elusive at best. Crawling out of bed, she realized the feel of Bren’s energy outside her window was gone. Relief and disappointment fought within her. Relief quickly won. A day without drama sounded like exactly what she needed. Besides, she was really hoping Donal would come by. The desire to get to know him better was eating at her, and she wanted to hear more about his and her brother’s battles up North.
She stepped out of her room and couldn’t feel Tyr’s energy. There were no sounds or scents of breakfast being cooked. That was odd. Her da was nowhere to be seen and her ma was packing food into a basket.
“What’s going on, ma?” Neala asked.
Cecily turned to her, brushing a loose strand of hair from her wide eyes as she did. The fear that contorted her face and suppressed her power sent a chill through Neala.
“The clan elders have called a meetin’. Yer da and I have to go.”
“About what?” Neala asked.
Cecily turned back to continue packing the basket but Neala wasn’t fooled. She knew she was only doing it so she didn’t have to look at her. The tense feel of her energy was not encouraging.
“Nothin’ ye need to worry yerself about. We need ye to take care of the chores while we’re gone. We may not be back before moonrise.”
She picked up the basket and started for the door. Neala was forced to follow her or be left behind.
“Ye look plenty worried. I should go with ye. This concerns me too,” she said.
Cecily walked across the damp grass as fast as her legs could go without breaking into a run. She went straight for the lean-to where Ardal was hitching the geldings to the cart. Neala had to fight back the impulse to lash out with her power. There was little she hated more than being ignored. Breaking into a sprint, she reached her da’s side before her ma could.
“Da, surely ye’ll see reason. I should go with ye,” she said.
Her da wouldn’t look up from the harness straps. “No. We need you to stay here and take care of the animals,” he said.
Neala’s power snapped and popped around her in response to her anger. It was getting difficult to hold it back.
“I’m not a child anymore. If something is going on I deserve to know,” she said.
Still he wouldn’t look up. Before she could stop it Neala’s power lashed out and shoved at her da. It wasn’t much, just enough to move his shoulder and make him pay attention to her. Concern etched deep wrinkles into his brow and cheeks. Anger she had been prepared for, wanted even, but not concern.
“You’re me child,” he said in a thick voice that tugged at her heart.
She pushed the feeling aside and squared her shoulders. There was no way she was going to let him guilt her out of this.
“I have a right to know what’s going on,” she said.
Her ma shook her head but said nothing as she climbed into the seat of the cart. Nervous energy touched Neala a moment before her da’s hand settled on her shoulder.
“And ye will. We have to find that out at the meetin’. When we get home we’ll sit down and talk with ye about it,” he said.
Not giving her a chance to respond, he turned and climbed into the seat next to Cecily. He tried to give Neala a smile but it looked more like a painful grimace. Cecily took up the reins and fixed Neala with a haunted look that was as cold as the grave.
“Be careful Neala. If anyone comes, ye hide. There isn’t anythin’ on this farm that is worth your life,” she said.
Neala was struck silent for a moment. What an odd thing for her ma to say. Whatever was going on had to be bad. That wasn’t the only odd thing though. Tyr hadn’t shown up during the whole argument. The horses responded to the slap of the reins by picking up a brisk walk. As the cart rolled by her Neala looked around for Tyr.
“Where is Tyr?” she called after them.
Ardal glanced back at her. “He left to meet up with his people. There’s a note on the kitchen table,” he said.
Dread crawled its way up Neala’s spine. He had left without saying goodbye. Sure it was probably to keep his people from coming here, but he was gone, really gone. That hurt a lot more than she was prepared for.
28
Neala worked the handle of the well pump a few times and let the water run so she could put her head under it. In only a few hours, the sun had grown hot enough to burn off the clouds and make her sweat through her tunic. The water cooled her as it saturated her hair and washed the heat of the morning away.
She didn’t want to run out of things to do. Every time she did she reread Tyr’s letter. He had left to protect her—he said—so his father wouldn’t come and hurt her family. He was going to try and lead them away if he could. There had been other parts that were harder to read, parts about how he cared for her and would never forget her. The worst part though was how he apologized for being a Dane and said he wished he could have been anything but an invader to her.
Something pulled at her with the force of the Irish Sea undertow, an energy that compelled her toward the forest. Flinging wet hair back over her shoulders, Neala stood and turned toward the energy. From the wild and breathtaking feel of the power, she knew it was Donal in an instant. It was all she could do to keep her pace at a walk toward the forest. Her legs ached from resisting the urge to run. She didn’t want to seem too eager to see him. Turmoil boiled within her over how fast she had developed feelings for Donal. That combined with her confused feelings for Tyr and Bren, were enough to keep her pace at a walk.
With each stride of his long legs, her heart beat faster. In leather breeches and a green tunic that contrasted beautifully against his dark skin, he looked just as amazing as he had in only short drawers. He held his hands behind his back which pulled his tunic tight across his broad chest, accentuating the muscles. Then again, maybe that was because she wanted to see him so badly that he would look good in anything.
It still shocked her that she had become so completely attached to him so quickly. But then, she supposed that’s what pair bonding did. She didn’t understand it yet, but she knew what she felt was real.
Though she wanted desperately to throw herself into his arms, she resisted. Things were complicated enough without her acting like a love-sick lass over a man she had just met.
“Sorry I’m late, I had a bit of business to attend to,” he said.
He brought his arms around from behind his back and within his hands was a basket of blackberries.
Her mouth started to water at the very sight of them. Smiling, she accepted the basket. “They’re me favorite, thank ye.”
“Tis the least I could do for being late.”
The smile that he gave her was worth the wait and then some.
“No worries, I’m glad ye made it. But ye’re forever catchin’ me a sweaty mess. Ye make it hard for a girl to impress ye,” she teased.
Eyes widening, Donal looked her up and down. Neala was suddenly very aware of just how wet her tunic was and how much it was clinging to her chest. “I beg to differ. Besides, ye look mighty fine when ye’re covered in sweat.”
She laughed and slapped at his huge bicep. “Donal!”
Flattered though she was, part of her couldn’t help but recall how the only time Bren had complimented her looks was when she was wearing a beautiful dress.
&
nbsp; They turned and started back toward the barn, pausing at the house so she could set the basket of blackberries on the porch railing.
“So, if I’m not intrudin’, may I ask what business ye had?” she asked.
One of his dark eyebrows went up. “The Orders are all abuzz about the Danes advancing inland. I decided to eavesdrop on one of the Clan meetings.”
“And did ye learn anythin’?” she asked, unable to keep the eagerness from her tone.
“Tá. How about I help you finish up yer work while I tell ye all about it?” he asked.
Neala shook her head and veered off toward the barn. “All right, but ye have to promise to let me make ye lunch afterward,” she said.
“It’s a deal.”
They cleaned the stalls, hauled in water, and picked vegetables for lunch. All the while Donal filled her in on how nervous the clan members were getting and how they were talking about either taking action or fleeing. Some had already started to leave he said. Donal had heard them discuss turning over what druids they knew about to the Danes to help save their villages and spare their clans from having to fight. As infuriating as it was, this didn’t surprise Neala. They had been turning druids over to the crusaders for years now.
During lunch the conversation shifted to more stories about Donal’s time spent with her brother. The subject of the bonding was something Donal was careful to avoid and Neala didn’t press the issue. She wasn’t quite ready to talk about it anyway. Nor could she bring herself to ask him to finish the sentence that Tyr had interrupted yesterday. They’d said they were going to take it slow and that was exactly what she intended to do.
Once they were finished with lunch she walked him back outside. A group of fairies that had gathered on the porch railing flocked around Donal. The sound of their strange language filled the air, much like wind chimes made from loch reeds. It was a lovely sound, like music. They landed upon his shoulders and played with his hair, surrounding him in a rainbow of colorful wings. He smiled at them as if used to their attention, then made a soft whistling sound. They circled him a few times, gathered together, and disappeared in a blink.
To Ride A Púca Page 24