by Darby Kaye
“You keep saying that.” Shay curled her lip and held her ground. “What does that mean, anyway? That you’ll hand over two of our own people, one of them just a child, to that monster?”
“To keep my clan safe? Yes. I would. In a heartbeat.”
You don’t have a heart. “We Doyles will stop you, you know.” At least some of us will.
The clan leader shrugged. “Your choice. Don’t blame my clan if some of you end up under a burial cairn.”
A low rumble filled the midday air. It grew louder. Tully spun around. Glancing past her visitor’s shoulder, Shay saw Bann’s truck turn into the cul-de-sac. The sun bounced off the vehicle’s chrome and windows like heliographs signaling the start of war. Driving at a speed that made her wonder briefly if her betrothed was planning on ramming Tully’s car, Bann skidded to a stop at the foot of the driveway. He climbed out with a quiet word to Cor, then closed the door.
Striding up the driveway—more like marching into battle—Bann locked gazes with Weston Tully, who had moved to take a stand on the pathway. Each Knight drew his knife.
Damn, Shay thought. This is going to get fugly. Movement inside the truck’s cab caught her eye. Cor was clambering between the seats to get a better view.
Bann halted a few feet away. Both men shifted about, giving themselves room. “Shay,” he said, gaze never leaving Tully. “Go inside and close the door.”
“Yeah, right,” she said, drawing her own knife and stepping out onto the porch. “I’ll just do that.” She ignored his glare.
“What do ye want, Tully?”
“I thought I’d give you one last warning to get out before things get nasty.”
“So noted. Now, leave. And do not come near me or mine again.” Bann stepped to one side, motioning Tully with his knife. With a sneer, the Knight walked backwards toward his car until he had put enough distance between himself and Bann, then climbed in and gunned the motor. He drove away in a squeal of tires.
Shay shoved her knife back in its sheath. “Well, that could have turned messy.” The adrenaline surge made her feel slightly nauseous and filled her mouth with a sour taste. “You won’t believe what he just said—”
Bann whirled around, the skin on his face stretched tight with anger. “I told ye to go inside!” Spittle flew from his mouth.
Shay blinked in surprise. Then her own irritation surged. That’s the second time today he’s given me an order! Knowing full well that getting into a shouting match was not a good idea—not with this jackass of a man—she yelled back anyway.
“What the hell is your problem this morning?” She stomped up to him, crowding him as she raised her chin. “You act like since we’re getting married, you can just boss me around.”
“I’m trying to keep ye safe, woman!”
“I’m quite capable of keeping myself safe. And stop calling me ‘woman.’ It’s demeaning!”
The truck’s passenger door opened. “Dad?” Cor leaned out. “Can I—?”
“No!” Bann roared over his shoulder. Cor ducked back inside, banging his head. The door closed hastily.
“Hey!” Shay pushed even closer. “Stop being a jerk to Cor.”
“He’s my son and I’ll do whatever—”
“He’s going to be my son, too!” She jabbed a finger into Bann’s chest. He’s so lucky I sheathed my blade already. “And I don’t want his spirit broken because his father is a freaking control freak!” Ye gods, what’s happening to us? Seems like we’ve been at each other’s throats all morning.
Bann must have thought the same thing. Dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, he started to speak, then stopped and cut his eyes toward the truck. Shay could almost see the anger steaming away from his pores as he raked his fingers through his hair with his free hand, then massaged the back of his neck.
“Control freak, eh?”
“Well, a bit dictatorial at times.” She narrowed her eyes. “Neck hurting?”
“How do you do that?” He dropped his hand and stared at her.
“Do what?”
“Go from war maiden to solicitous Healer in between heartbeats?”
“Oh, I’m still pissed at you, Bannerman Boru.” She let the hint of a smile slip out. “And you can bet your sweet ass we’re going to sit down and talk about our roles in this relationship. In. Detail.”
“Fair enough. However.” Bann held out a hand to her. “I am who I am.”
“I know. Friend and lover and warrior and father.” She grinned. “Not always in that order.” She took his hand and stepped closer and kissed him lightly on the lips. “And I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Now, we really should let Cor out. Plus, I think we all need some lunch, and afterwards, you’re getting a neck massage.”
“Just my neck?”
The truck door opened a few inches. “Um…Dad? I have to pee. Really bad.”
“Come along, son.” Bann waited until Cor dashed past them into the house, and then asked. “What did Weston Tully say?”
Shay told him. “We need to talk to Hugh and Ann. As joint leaders of the clan, they would want to know about his threats.” As Bann started to speak, she laid a finger on his lips. “Don’t even start with the whole it’s-my-fault-your-clan-is-in-danger crap. This posturing is typical Tully behavior. Belligerent little bastard.”
“But—”
She pushed him toward the house. “Nope. No buts allowed,” she said following him inside. She eyed his posterior. Well, maybe just one.
5
“DAD?” COR SPOKE AROUND a mouthful of ham and cheese sandwich. Dots of bright yellow mustard decorated each corner of his mouth. “Is Tully coming back?”
“No, son. Never again. And swallow, then speak.” Bann took another bite of his own lunch.
The boy complied, almost choking before he got the mouthful down. “Dad?” he asked again, this time with a note of wariness in his voice. “Are you…are you and Shay still mad at each other?”
Bann recalled all the times he and Cor’s mother had fought, often right in front of the boy, slashing each other with words chosen, like freshly honed blades, to leave the most damage. The boy would flee to his room, neither parent noticing his absence until after the bloodbath had ended. Mostly, it was Bann who would go in search of his son, pulling the small body out from under the bed—Cor’s favorite hiding place—and sitting on the floor, cradling the boy in his arms as he tried to explain how you can love someone and be mad at them at the same time. I wonder if, even then, I was lying to him and to myself.
“Not at all.” He reached over and swiped the nearest blob of mustard off the boy’s face with his thumb, then licked the digit clean.
“Trust me. You’ll know when we are.” Shay joined them at the kitchen table and placed a plate of sliced apples and pears in the middle of it. “Five slices, kiddo.”
As Cor selected the five smallest pieces, Bann cleared his throat. “Cor, Shay and I were not really angry. We were just—”
“You were yelling at each other,” Cor pointed out. “I don’t like it when you guys yell,” he added in an undertone.
“We were frustrated, not mad. And we weren’t taking time to really listen to each other,” Shay said. “But, now we’re going to sit down and talk about things in a calm manner.”
Cor munched on an apple slice. “What kind of things?”
“All sorts of things.” Shay reached for the pear. “Since the three of us are going to be a family, we need to decide who does what.”
“Like who’s the boss and all that?”
Bann smiled. “Aye. Although it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“I know an easy way,” Cor said.
“You do, do you?”
“Yup.” He looked from his father to Shay. “Shay’s the boss when we’re inside the house and Dad’s the boss when we’re outside the house,” he said in perfect eight-year-old logic.
“You did not just say that!” Shay growled in mock indignation.
The doorbell rang. “That’s probably Hugh and Ann.” Shay started to rise.
“How do you know?”
“I went ahead and called them about Tully. Hugh wanted to come over and talk about it in person.”
Bann pushed to his feet, waving her back down. “I’ll answer it. Enjoy your meal.” As he walked across the great room to the front door, he found himself wishing for Max’s sharp ears and nose. We really should get another dog. It might help Cor move past the horror of Max’s return from the dead. Even knowing the wards protected the entire property, Bann tensed until he spied Ann through the window, waiting on the porch. He opened the door. Beyond her, Hugh was standing by the truck, one hand shading his eyes as he peered inside the driver’s-side window.
“Fáilte.” Bann stood aside as she entered. “Care to join us for luncheon?”
“We’ve eaten already, thank you. Hugh?” She turned and called to her husband. “Come along. You can play with Bann’s new toy later.”
“Let me take your coat.” As he draped it across the entryway table, she headed for the kitchen. A moment later, Hugh came bounding up the steps, a grin flashing white in his red beard.
“I see you’ve a new vehicle, Bannerman Boru.” Hugh’s eyes twinkled, clearly in on the surprise, as they followed Ann. “A gift from Shay?”
“It was.”
“Are you keeping it?”
“I am.”
“Did it hurt to admit defeat?”
“It did. And I’ll thank you to drop the subject, Hugh Doyle.” The other Knight slapped him on the back with a laugh as they stepped into the kitchen.
“Oh, Shay!” A sudden exclamation of joy burst from Ann.
The two women stood by the sink, Ann looking down at Shay’s left hand. With another cry, she flung her arms around the younger woman, who hugged her back just as hard. After a moment, they pulled apart, beaming at each other.
“When?” Ann asked.
“Just last night,” Shay said, her face aglow. “We were going to swing by and tell you two the good news this afternoon. But then Tully showed up…”
“What good news?” Hugh looked at Bann in confusion.
“Shay and I are betrothed.”
“That means they’re getting married,” Cor piped up from the table, where he was furtively putting the rest of his fruit slices back on the serving platter.
“Lass!” With a shout, Hugh swept Shay into a bear hug, lifting her from the floor and twirling her around.
Meanwhile, Ann made a beeline for Bann and took his hands in hers. “You know how much Hugh and I wanted this for you. For all of you,” she added, with a nod toward Cor, who was making his way over to his father. “Shay is so fortunate.”
“No, Annwen Doyle. Cor and I are the lucky ones in all this.” Slipping a hand free, he pulled Cor to his side.
“Well, I think this news demands a party. Next Saturday. One o’clock. Our place. We’ll spread the word to the rest of the clan.”
“Might it be on Sunday, instead?” Bann ruffled his son’s hair. “Next Saturday is Cor’s birthday and we’ve not made any plans yet.”
“Say no more. Sunday is just as easy.” Ann smiled down at Cor. “After all, you only have a birthday once a year. It should be special.” She spoke to Shay, who was still talking with Hugh. “Shay, call your mother and your brother and let them know they’ll stay with us.”
Bann’s heart did a stutter-step at the thought of meeting Isobel Doyle, especially after Shay had confided her mother’s less than enthusiastic reaction. I don’t know what’s worse—dealing with the threat from the Tully clan or meeting my future mother-by-law.
After shooing Cor off to watch television, Ann and Hugh took seats at the kitchen table. While Shay poured coffee for everyone, Bann cleared the remains of lunch and stacked the dishes in the sink. Hugh snagged a pear slice from the platter; it disappeared in a crunch and a swallow. Once they were all gathered, Shay explained what had happened. Hugh and Ann listened without interruption, with an occasional knowing look between them, until she finished.
“Since we’ll have most of the clan assembled at the party,” Ann said, “we’ll wait and discuss strategy in the event that Weston Tully decides to escalate this further.”
“Are you talking about…clan warfare?” Shay looked from aunt to uncle.
Hugh nodded. “Of course, that would likely depend on whether—” he paused, glancing across the great room at Cor sprawled on the sofa, then lowered his voice “—on whether Cernunnos attacks another Tully.”
Guilt souring the food in his belly, Bann shook his head. “I cannot let that happen. It is because of me that your clan is in danger from—”
“Hi. My name is Bann.” Shay interrupted him.
“Hi, Bann,” Hugh and Ann murmured, right on cue.
“And it’s been an hour since I last tried to take the blame for something beyond my control,” Shay finished.
Bann laughed, despite the worry beating black wings in his chest. “I see now why the mortals who share the Doyle name chose ‘Fortitudine Vincit’ as their motto.”
“Why, would you look at the man—a scholar he is, what with the Latin and all,” Hugh said with a grin. “And just where did you come by that obscure bit of information?”
“Why, James, of course.”
Ann patted his hand. “You’re going to fit in so well with our family. But, for now, we’ve a betrothal celebration to start preparing for. After all, we must keep our priorities straight. I’m thinking a pig roast and some piñatas for the children, as well as—”
Hugh leaned over and whispered something in Ann’s ear. “Really, Hugh?” She gave him a look. “That’s all you think about.”
“Why, ’tis not true, wife,” Hugh said. “Sometimes, I think about beer.” He turned to Bann. “Say, can we borrow Cor to aid us in picking out the piñatas? That is, if the two of you can stand the thought of an empty house for an hour or so.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down, elbowing Bann in the ribs.
Five minutes later, Cor was bouncing along between Hugh and Ann as they walked down the driveway to their car, talking a mile a minute about a birthday party he had once attended and how he was now an expert on piñata whacking. Bann stood in the open doorway, arm around Shay’s waist, and watched as they drove away with a honk and a wave. They waited until the vehicle turned the corner and disappeared out of the cul-de-sac, then glanced at each other.
“Well, here we are,” Shay said. “All alone.”
“Aye. All alone.”
“Whatever shall we do?”
“I’ve an idea.” Bann drew her inside the house and locked the door behind him.
“Which is?”
“Why, a bit of ‘round the house and mind the dresser.’” With a fluid move, he scooped her up in his arms. The old expression made him grin, as did Shay’s squeal of delight.
Clinging tightly to his neck, she spoke. “I always wondered what it’d be like to be swept off my feet and carried away for some hot sex. Ooh, wait! Better yet, hot make up after a fight hot sex.”
“Now, you will know.” He headed down the hallway, pausing halfway there to hoist her higher.
“Although, technically, we haven’t gotten to the hot sex part yet,” she pointed out.
“Jeez, I’m working on it.” Nudging the door aside with an elbow, he walked over to their bed, then tossed her on it.
Shay hooted with laughter. “Last one naked loses.” She stretched out flat and unzipped her jeans while Bann yanked his shirt over his head.
In the end, it was a tie.
6
WITH A GASP, BANN slumped back on the pillow, his pulse humming a reel in his ears and temples. Shay sprawled naked on his chest, her legs straddling his hips. He reached up and tucked her hair behind one ear, then slid his hand along her bare back. Sweat coated them both—nature’s lubricant. She murmured s
omething, her face buried in his shoulder.
“If that was a request for a third round, Shay darlin’, then I’ll have to beg off this time.”
“Slacker.” With a groan, she slid off and flopped down on the mattress. “I think I pulled a groin muscle.” She plucked her cell from the bedside table and squinted at the screen. “We better get cleaned up. Want to shower first?”
“We could share.”
“Yeah, like that would speed things up.” Rolling off the bed, she walked toward the bathroom, staggering a little.
Linking his hands behind his head, Bann watched her, enjoying the show, until she closed the door. The toilet flushed a few minutes later, followed by the whoosh of the shower running. For a few minutes, he drifted, staring unseeing at the ceiling, body relaxed to the point of uselessness, much like his manhood, now down for the count, between his legs.
He forced himself out of bed with the thought of his son and the Doyles returning earlier than expected. After taking care of the used condoms, he walked around, gathering his scattered clothes. Stepping around to the far side of the bed in search of his jeans, he idly glanced out the window, still unused to the view of the wooden fence instead of the scattered boulders marking the edge of their property. He started to turn away. Movement on the other side of the wall. A shape flitted from the nearest boulder toward their home; reaching the wall, it disappeared from sight.
A dog-shaped shape.
“Shite.” Scrambling for his knife and his jeans, in that order, he hurried out of the bedroom and across the house to the back door. He paused, peering through the glass as he yanked on his pants, then eased the door open. Stepping out, the cool November air was balanced by the warmth of the midday sun; even so, goose bumps broke out on his bare torso. He crept toward the wall, knife at the ready and bare feet protesting.
On the far side of the barrier, something paced back and forth, its passage marked by the whisper of dried grasses being trampled underfoot. Under paw. A snuffle, then more pacing.