Irish Moon

by Amber Scott

  Breanne drew her eyebrows together. “I’ll thank you to not take it out on my bedding. You’ve been gone stewing in your anger these last days, then, haven’t you?”

  Finn lay into the nest he created, silent.

  “Fine. Don’t tell me. I care not what you’ve been off to. I rather like the freedom of it and encourage you to go again whenever possible.”

  “And allow you more time with the knight? Or did you not notice he spends most time with your beloved Quinlan nowadays?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Of course you don’t. By the by, Breanne, how goes the husband hunt?” Finn closed his eyes, his mouth curled.

  Her bath was delivered at that very moment and Breanne swore that had it not, Finn might have been tossed out the window.

  The damned feline not only managed to ruin her excitement over the book, but also knew too damned much. Yes, she’d spent time with Ashlon and no, he had not been keeping company with Quinlan. She was sure of it. Finn could only be finding the right chords in her to play her well. She should know just how proficient he was at it by now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He hadn’t been at dinner that night or the next. Breanne tried to keep her mind off of the fact by translating Heremon’s book but it made it all the worse. Finn’s silence didn’t help. In fact it made his statement actually seem potentially legitimate.

  She didn’t want to believe it. Certainly, she had seen the two men together and it wasn’t untoward of Quinlan to continue to befriend Ashlon. After all, he had been the person who had come upon the knight on the road and brought him in.

  But, why did Ashlon no longer join them at dinner? He had been a staple every other night since his arrival. She tried to tell herself that it was a good thing, that it allowed her time to work without added pressure. But, then why had the ‘life and death matter’ suddenly stopped being so vital as to lure her into a midnight meeting by moonlight?

  Exasperated, Breanne tossed the book aside. Her head hurt, her eyes ached and her brain felt numb. She was making little progress and at this rate, Ashlon would be here through winter solstice, if he weren’t dead by then. And she would have failed Heremon.

  What could a wooden box hold that could be worth such trouble? Her first thought, that Ashlon was merely attached to the chest, evolved when he’d shown her the drawing. The chest must hold significance for the Druid to put it to paper. And, with the riddling script border, doubtlessly it was worth far more than she could guess.

  Perhaps Heremon’s death was linked to the chest. But who could know of it or of Ashlon’s arrival? If she ever solved the puzzle she’d be using it to find out from Ashlon exactly what lay inside.

  The first wedding guests arrived that morning and she had nothing to give Ashlon. She didn’t doubt at any moment he would come knocking for answers she didn’t have. What in the world could he be doing with himself in the meanwhile? Certainly, Quinlan and he had little in common, and to what end if he truly meant to leave soon? It felt too much to hope his absence from the keep was an attempt to become the unremarkable visitor as she’d advised.

  The clang of metal on metal echoed up from the yard. The clang in and of itself wouldn’t have called her attention but when a round of cheers followed it, Breanne shot to the window, mindless of disturbing Finn.

  She peered down but couldn’t see past the growing crowd in the yard. Without a second thought, Breanne left her room to look out the corridor’s window. She gasped when her eyes landed on Ashlon, sword raised in arms against Quinlan.

  “What in the world are they thinking?”

  She returned to her room to grab her sapphire cloak and replace the book in her trunk. Finn gazed at her through sleepy eyes but didn’t ask what she was hurrying about for.

  Breanne almost tripped down the flight of stone stairs, she went so fast. Upon reaching the yard, she was shocked at how large the gathering had grown in the small space of time. Rose and Rhiannon stood at the edge. Rose waved her over.

  “Can you see much from your chamber, Bree?”

  She shook her head. “What are they about, then, Rose?”

  “It’s a test of skills,” Rhiannon said with a faraway smile. “Sir Ashlon means to take on every last man among Niall’s guard.”

  “We need a better view, girls,” Rose said. “Come now, let us think a moment before its over and done and we miss the lot of it swooning here in the back of it.”

  “I don’t understand,” Breanne said. “He battled Quinlan just now, might be still. Are you certain they do not fight, Rose?”

  “Of course not. My brother counts the knight as a friend. He is simply the first in line to take Sir Ashlon to test. Now, look there. Do you both see that window?”

  Rhiannon nodded expressly while Breanne held her hand to block the sudden slant of sunlight. She couldn’t see much at all and looked back to Rose. Her friend was walking away with Rhiannon, back into the keep. Breanne rushed to catch them.

  “He can’t mean to take on every man. That would be more than twenty.”

  Rose led them up the west stairwell. “He’ll take on every man he can and whoever bests him will take on the next and so on until the winner is named. Whatever man succeeds the most, with the best skill demonstrated, to be judged by the O’Doherty’s. They’ve men in, as well,” Rose said as they climbed.

  Rhiannon clapped and squealed. After her spinning lesson with the girl, Breanne counted her as a friend. Rhiannon had taken pity on her once it became obvious to them both how terrible a hand she had at the needle and wheel.

  But, as she gushed and blushed over the games in the yard, Breanne found herself getting quite annoyed.

  “How many do you imagine he’ll sustain?” Rhiannon said to Breanne. “I’ll wager he has more’n a bit of stamina, that one. Think you five, or six? More?” Her pretty blue eyes sparkled.

  Breanne wanted to point out that Ashlon would not be up to so many after his recent illness and that he really had no business engaging in arms at all. But, neither Rose nor Rhiannon knew about the man delirious with fever, stripped bare and ministered to by her in absolute secrecy.

  And the risk was worth this of all things? All her worry and sneaking about, suffering the mindlessness his kisses put on her, the very distraction of it when she should be focused on finding a husband or helping Niall find Heremon’s murderer.

  She almost hoped he got wounded. No not wounded, fatigued, really and suddenly fatigued. That would teach him making a spectacle out of himself for every man and lusting woman in the whole clan. By the time they reached the window Rose had spotted, Breanne was ready to go back to her room. But when she glimpsed the shillelagh coming down fast at Ashlon’s head, she stood her ground.

  Rhiannon squealed, her hands fluttering in the air, knocking into Rose and Breanne. Breanne suppressed the overpowering urge send her away.

  Ashlon deftly blocked the heavy club and with a fast twirl of his silver blade, unarmed the man. He’d beaten Quinlan then, and was securing his second defeat. The tall man knelt in defeat before Ashlon and bowed. The crowd roared with cheer and applause.

  The next opponent stepped into the circle, which widened its berth in anticipation of the coming spar. Ashlon and the burly man holding a mace were in their direct line of sight.

  “Ah, but he’s all man that one. Do you see the muscle on him?” Rose asked.

  Breanne didn’t need clarification on which man she referred to with all the fat on his opponent hiding any muscle tone. She flushed, remembering just how muscular he was. His smooth nearly hairless chest, hot to the touch, glistening in the moonlight, recalled far too freshly in her mind.

  The flush raced from her cheeks to her belly, spreading lower. Her heart leapt as the huge opponent suddenly ran at Ashlon, swinging his mace in crisscross motions and sending him backward. The crowd swam with the men. If an onlooker got too close, they’d be surely injured, possible killed with that mean looking thing.

&
nbsp; “I cannot watch,” Rhiannon said.

  The larger man wasn’t as swift on his feet and Ashlon had him on his back with a move so fast Breanne couldn’t have explained its process were she to retell what she had witnessed. She found herself leaning forward, gasping.

  The crowd roared again.

  “Blimey, that’s more man than I knew existed,” Rose said.

  Breanne rolled her eyes. “He’ll tire soon.” She said the words but hoped he proved her wrong. He wasn’t a peacock about his wins.

  Rose shot her a curious look, one eyebrow raised. “What has the man done to you this time, Bree?”

  Breanne frowned. The image of his mouth sucking her neck popped into her mind. “I don’t know what you mean, he’s done nothing at all to me.” She cursed her cheeks for the heat climbing into them. Worse, for the warm ache far lower.

  Rhiannon was blissfully unaware of Breanne’s cold gaze, so enraptured by the sight of Ashlon taking on yet another opponent, this one a mite smaller than the last. The loser had finally managed to get back to his feet and didn’t seem the least bit offended by the expedient end to his turn. He accepted many a handshake, nodded at Ashlon with a look on his face that seriously smacked close to admiration.

  “Pardon me for not being utterly smitten with the man as everyone else seems to be,” Breanne said, and crossed her arms. But the scowl on her face was doing little to stop the heat in her belly. His bare biceps were so well defined. The strong set of his jaw, the ease with which he danced around his opponents….

  “And, may I say, I’m glad to hear it,” Quinlan said low, behind her. Breanne started and swung around, almost bumping into him. “Are you ladies enjoying our brutish sport, then?” He kept his eyes on Breanne.

  “Oh my, yes,” Rhiannon said breathlessly. “Thoroughly enjoying the fine display of prowess. I must say we’ve the best view thanks to your kind and clever sister.” Her eyelashes fluttered, her gaze torn between the fight below and the man before her.

  Breanne almost rolled her eyes again. Glad to hear it, he’d said in that husky tone. Of course he was glad to hear it and that meant he still had her hand in mind. He’d made no overtures in the time since their ride, discounting carrying her upstairs when she’d fainted. She’d not only begun to hope he’d given up the notion of marrying her, but had nearly forgotten his interest these last two days.

  Ever since she’d returned that morning, she’d been too consumed with other things to recall his vow to try to do better. That husky tone spoken far too close at her back was more telling than the words themselves and had instantly chilled the heat in her.

  “Was your turn over as quickly as the others?” Rose asked, a half smile curving her lips.

  Quinlan gave his sister a mocking glare. “More,” he said, rubbing his backside.

  Rhainnon burst into laughter. Rose chuckled. Breanne smiled, as well. She did miss him. He’d always managed to make her laugh, even in the worst of moods.

  Quinlan smiled warmly and equally at each of them and, for a moment, Breanne counted him as back to himself, not in the least bit awkward.

  “Are you very much attached to watching Breanne? If not, I would ask a private word with you?”

  Breanne swallowed, glancing at Rose, who had her gaze on the clash below, for help. Rhiannon eyed them suspiciously.

  “Will you return after, Quinlan?” Rhiannon asked.

  He nodded, taking his eyes off Breanne’s for only a moment, long enough for her to close her eyes shut and re-open them determinedly. If he wished privacy, she saw no way around it. To help quell rising nerves, she reminded herself of his promise not to kiss her again without permission.

  “As you please,” she said and took his offered arm.

  They walked to the end of the corridor and up another flight to the rooftop.

  “Did he really best you that fast, Quinlan?” Breanne clung to the earlier topic, hoping to sustain its relief now.

  “He is very skilled. It was over much faster than I anticipated it to be. I’ll not be surprised if he lasts another ten men at this rate.”

  Too bad. He’d taken her question as serious interest when all she’d wanted was another jest. They came to a stop near the wall, the fighting behind them.

  “Thank you for speaking with me. I know you are distressed in doing so.”

  Breanne winced. “It’s not that I’m distressed Quinlan. It’s more that I’m nervous, I expect. We used to be such friends and now….”

  “I have gone and muddled it with a kiss.”

  She didn’t know which she liked less, the memory his statement brought or the fact that he’d brought the subject up. She’d rather it stayed dead and buried on both counts.

  “I have no good excuse for it, Bree, other than to say I’d had drink and was nervous myself.” He clasped his hands behind him. “But I believe I have a solution that will help rid both of our nerves.”

  Breanne looked up. “Truly?”

  “Yes, truly.” He rocked on his toes. “What do you say to returning to being no more than friends?”

  Breanne didn’t know what to say. Relief flooded her but also guilt. “But, I thought you spoke with Niall, that you’ve asked for me?” Was he giving up then? Had she crushed his hope?

  “I have and I do not rescind that request, no mistake. I simply feel that if we return to being friends, then mayhap we will both remember the ease with which we handled each other’s company and the next kiss will not go so badly.” He smiled broadly.

  Breanne’s relief ended but she did remember the resolution she’d thought of the morning before. She could try the kiss again, to see if he could create the wonder Ashlon had.

  She toyed with her cloak hem. The wind billowed it. Quinlan’s gaze pierced hers, hope shining there. She wouldn’t deny it went badly, as it wouldn’t comfort him and only prolong the memory of it.

  “How do you propose we do such a thing? How can we act as friends and yet try again to test those waters?” She tried to keep an open mind.

  Quinlan looked down. “I don’t know, perhaps I can make you laugh a bit and then when you’re ready, we might sit and proceed slowly and then give each other an honest opinion of it. Is it not what a friend would offer?” He peered at her through his lashes.

  Breanne’s stomach got a funny squirm in it. She gulped in some air and gripped her cloak. She didn’t need him to spell out his intention of trying the kiss again here, now. She could tell in his shy manner and didn’t doubt he’d been working up the courage to ask it of her for some time.

  “It sounds friend-like, to be sure. And what will we do if the same happens as the last?”

  “Well, I must say I’m hopeful that you’ll not slap me,” he said and rubbed his cheek.

  Breanne smiled and tilted her head. He was jesting with her again. It helped lighten the heaviness that occupied her squirmy belly.

  “Alright then. I expect now will do,” she said.

  Quinlan brought his head up. His Adam’s apple moved down and up. He nodded and stepped closer.

  As his head lowered, Breanne placed a hand on his chest. “Do you mind very much if we talk it through as we go? I think it will help my own nerves, that is if you don’t mind.”

  Quinlan smiled.

  “I know, its not terribly romantic this way, but I really believe it will help,” she said.

  “Fine then. What would you have me do?”

  “You might put your hands, well, upon my shoulders?”

  He did.

  “And I could keep mind about your waist? There, how does that feel?”

  “Fine. It feels nice, I suppose.”

  Breanne stopped from frowning. “All right then. I’m ready.” She closed her eyes. Her heartbeat thumped in her throat so hard she could nearly feel its pulse in her tongue. Would he shove his tongue in like the last time? Would it weaken her knees like Ashlon’s had?

  Ashlon’s face swam into her mind’s eye. The hazy look his eyes got when they wer
e on her face, on her mouth, the way her whole being seemed to buzz in awareness of him. The squirm in her belly changed to a flutter.

  Quinlan’s lips met hers. They were soft and gentle and kissed her tenderly several times. When he was pulling his away, she seemed to be bringing hers close, like their rhythms weren’t in sync. Then his mouth lingered a moment. Breanne swallowed. She concentrated on breathing through her nose, though it didn’t seem to be getting her enough air.

  His lips parted first, his tongue warm and wet on her upper lip and Breanne found herself envisioning a serpent’s tongue slithering in and out as his was now.

  Breanne parted her lips and tentatively pressed her tongue to his. Quinlan’s body flinched slightly, his tongue pulled back then he seemed to return to his earlier determination. Gently, he returned her kiss and they allowed their tongues to explore, their lips to press, part and reconnect. After several moments, Quinlan closed his mouth to her, pecked hers rather quickly and stepped back.

  Both exhaled and Quinlan’s gasp struck her as sounding quite relieved. She wondered on what count. Had it gone better than he hoped for or was he just as glad as her that it was over?

  She didn’t ask. The warm smile he bestowed on her was answer enough.

  “I’d say that is significant progress, wouldn’t you? I must say I found it rather nice.”

  Breanne pinched her lips together, resisting the urge to wipe the wetness he’d left there for the wind to chill. She nodded. It was an improvement after all. It hadn’t brought her to her knees with desire but mayhap that was better. With Quinlan she would never have to fear losing all thought and wits.

  And it hadn’t turned her stomach. If she allowed, there was a small warmth there now. She was right to have agreed to this trial and it must have been meant for if they each considered the test separately.

  Quinlan stepped forward, his smile suddenly eager. He bent his head. Breanne closed her eyes and braced herself when a throat cleared behind them. They jumped apart and turned to see Ashlon and Rhiannon joining them.