Dawn of Desire

Phoebe Conn

DESIRE’S PROPHECY

Unaware of Egan’s torment, Oriana rested her hand lightly upon his bare shoulder. “I wish you would listen rather than discount my opinions before I voice them.”

What Egan wished was to ravish her until dawn, and he raised up as he rolled over to face her. “If you wish to become the cherished bride of some magnificent god, you’ll hush and not touch me again.”

Oriana’s eyes widened in surprise. Egan was blocking the firelight and it gave his silhouette a handsome glow. “What has one thing to do with the other?”

Believing no woman could be that innocent, Egan replied with a primitive growl, and with astonishing ease moved to pin her beneath him. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, nuzzled the smooth softness of her throat, then framed her face with his hands and kissed her tenderly.

“You warned the day would come when I would want you,” he murmured against her ear.

Contents

Cover Page
Title Page
Desire's Prophecy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Praise
Also By Phoebe Conn
Copyright

Chapter One

Celtic Ireland

Autumn held the promise of a bountiful harvest, and the small village fair was alive with a joyous sense of prosperity and hope. Unmarried couples danced and stole kisses, while young mothers balanced their rosy-cheeked babes on their hips and sang along with the minstrels. Ignoring such lighthearted merriment, the farmers strolled the peddlers’ tents in search of a bargain or simply sipped ale in the shade of an ancient oak.

Though hastily constructed, Oriana’s booth afforded the privacy necessary for telling fortunes, and, as usual, she was enjoying a profitable, and therefore quite pleasant, day. Then, without warning, she felt an abrupt change in the afternoon, as though the whole world had suddenly taken a deep breath, and a deathly stillness settled around her.

She cast an anxious glance over the head of the young woman seeking her advice and was surprised to find the colorful pennants atop the tent opposite hers still fluttering in the breeze. She would never have left her forest home had her need for a new woolen cloak not been acute, but now she did not care whether she had earned sufficient silver to provide the warm garment.

Ever mindful of her own reputation, however, she attempted to affect a reassuring calm and murmured persuasively, “Love can’t be rushed, nor can it be coaxed from an unwilling suitor. You’re very pretty; isn’t there another man who longs to make you his wife?”

The tearful young woman replied between choked sobs, “Yes, but he isn’t nearly as handsome as the one I love. That’s why I’ve come to you. Oh, please, my lady. Isn’t there something better in my future?”

Sadly, Oriana knew the poor girl would soon be forced to wed a farmer who was not unkind, but simply too old for her. Then, with her heart overflowing with love for the babe she carried, she would die in childbirth. Oriana would never reveal that heartache, however, for though no one could avoid fate, she would not condemn them to live in deathly fear of it.

Instead, Oriana considerately presented the elegant theatrics she always performed for an audience of one. With a warm smile, she offered a small leather pouch heavily embroidered with golden thread. “Let us consult the Stones of Tomorrow,” she invited. “Reach in and choose the first one you touch.”

Turning shy, the young woman brushed the moisture from her cheeks and slowly slid a trembling hand into the bag. Just as hesitantly, she withdrew a smooth gray stone and placed it in Oriana’s outstretched palm.

“Here. Does this one provide a good omen?” she asked.

Oriana rested the pouch in her lap to free her hands, and then rolled the stone between her palms. She closed her eyes briefly to pretend rapt concentration, and when she looked up, her tone was thoroughly convincing.

“You’ve made an excellent choice. This pretty stone comes from the Stream of Life. It means there’s another man you’ve not yet considered—he’s your true husband. The family you’ll create together will bring you great happiness. Now dry your tears, and do not shed another until it springs from boundless joy.”

Oriana gestured gracefully. “The ribbon merchant has such lovely wares. Go across the way to his tent and purchase colorful ribbons for your hair so your new man will be sure to notice you.”

“Oh, thank you, dear lady,” the girl said, her voice catching in her throat. Greatly encouraged, she dropped another silver coin into Oriana’s basket and swiftly left the tent to do her bidding.

With no further need to treat the gray stone as precious, Oriana tossed it into her bag and yanked the drawstrings tight. Before she could rise and be on her way, a man’s dark shadow fell across the entrance of her tent.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she called out to him, “but I’m finished for the day.”

“No. I think not,” he replied in a resonant baritone. He bent low to enter Oriana’s booth and with the same sure grace, he seated himself upon the cushion facing hers. A slow smile spread across his face as he regarded her with open admiration.

She was a rare beauty with hair the fiery red of a summer sunset. A golden cord encircled her head to tame her wavy tresses, and it allowed him to fully appreciate the perfection of her delicate features. But it was her remarkable eyes that touched his soul. More gold than green, they sparkled with the unmistakable glow of lively intelligence.

Her perfume was an enchanting floral blend with a subtle hint of cloves. He drank it in with every breath, and his compliment was entirely genuine. “Your praises are sung by many, Oriana, but I was not certain you really existed. Now I can truthfully swear you were well worth my lengthy search.”

His gray cloak was tattered at the hem, his tunic and leggings were dusty, and his leather shoes were scuffed, but his muscular build and handsome appearance spoke of a heritage far wealthier than that of a careworn peasant. His hair was darker than a moonless night and fell over his shoulders in a wild mane, but a sophisticated humor lit his smoky blue eyes. He was clean-shaven, and his teeth were even and white against his deep tan.

Oriana had never seen a more charming smile, but she was accustomed to leading a solitary life, and was uncomfortable when anyone came near. This man’s presence so filled her small tent that, when combined with her earlier need to take flight, she was fast becoming as desperate as a rabbit caught in a snare.

“I’m truly sorry for your trouble, sir, but it doesn’t naturally follow that I wished to be found,” she replied in a hushed whisper.

Amused, the man shook his head. “No, obviously you did not, but now that I’ve succeeded in my quest, I refuse to return home without you.”

Startled by such an unexpected boast, Oriana drew back as best she could, but there was still far too little space between them. With an effort, she forced herself to breathe in and out in a deep, regular rhythm, for despite the young man’s remarkably appealing appearance, she sensed a grave peril that demanded she keep a firm hold on her wits. Surely it had been his arrival that had disrupted the peace of the afternoon, and she regretted not being quick enough to elude him.

“Your home is undoubtedly a fine one, sir, but I go where I choose,” she announced proudly, feigning far more confidence than she felt.

Her distress was too obvious to miss, and the man softened his tone. “Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you, but if you truly possess the ability to see the future, you must already know that I mean you no harm.”

A teasing grin tugged at the corner of his well-shaped mouth, but Oriana remained wary. Perhaps he truly believed what he said, but she saw a looming danger wrapped around him as snugly as his ragged cloak. The knowledge that he did not deserve to live under such a dreadful threat came to her just as swiftly.

“If it is merely a fortune you wish, I can tell it now.” Oriana pulled open the beautifully decorated pouch and extended it slightly. “I rely upon my Stones of Tomorrow for insight. Simply reach in and withdraw the first one you touch.”

The man extended his hand, but as his slender fingers brushed the edge of the bag, he drew back. “Shouldn’t you at least ask my name before we begin? Or do you already know it?”

Oriana had never met a man who was more pleasing to the eye, but she was still eager to escape. “Whoever you are, sir, you are in terrible danger. Anything else I might provide will have scant worth compared to that knowledge.”

He shrugged off her warning as he would a hasty comment on the weather. “Though you may not be in the least bit curious, should your friends ask, I am Egan, of the Dál Cais, and I have yet to encounter an enemy I could not easily defeat.”

His taunting chuckle echoed softly against the folds of the tent as he reached into the embroidered pouch, and then, deliberately allowing his fingertips to caress Oriana’s palm, he placed a sparkling amethyst in her hand. His lashes were so long and thick that they cast shadows upon his cheeks but failed to veil the sly sparkle lighting his eyes as he awaited her prediction.

Oriana stared first at the crystal, for it possessed its own inner fire, and then looked up at Egan. “This isn’t mine, and if you are half as good with your sword as you are with sleight of hand, you just may have a chance to survive the peril that stalks you.”

Egan rested his arms on his crossed knees and sighed with frustration. “I need more than vague warnings, my lady. That pretty crystal, as well as ample gold, is yours if you’ll but tell me my fate as quickly as you did the maid before me.”

“You have no idea what you ask,” Oriana admonished. “Women consult me on matters of the heart and always Phoebe Conn find comfort. But the last man who sought my advice now wishes me dead simply because it proved true.”

Alarmed, Egan sought to reassure her of his own good intentions, but as he drew near, he saw his reflection in the depths of her golden gaze. The image made him so dizzy he had to glance away. “It’s said you’re the daughter of the god Lugh and a mortal woman. Is it true?”

His profile was as magnificently carved as the rest of him, and Oriana took her time to reply. “You saw the truth in my eyes just now, so you need not question the wisdom of my advice. You must return home with all possible haste. The lives of those you love are at risk, but I fear you are already too late to save them.”

Egan’s expression darkened as he turned back to meet Oriana’s gaze. “Again, I think not.”

Oriana anticipated his sudden lunge but had no room to dodge away before he caught her wrist in a bruising grip. “I make far too many enemies with the truth, Egan. Do not beg me for more.”

“I never beg,” he snarled, and the same teeth that had made his smile so charming flashed with a menacing gleam.

Nearby, a musician sat strumming his lyre, but Oriana could barely hear the melody over the fierce beating of her heart. The distant laughter of children running through the peddlers’ tents carried on the gentle breeze, and much closer, there was drunken shout. Oriana yearned for the peace of the forest and viewed Egan’s confining hold on her with clear disgust.

“Have you no Druids to advise you, sir? Surely the powerful Dál Cais must have dozens of the learned men.”

Finally noticing the delicacy of her bones, Egan relaxed his grip until it was a loop as gentle as her gold bracelet. “Forgive me if I’ve been too rough. I’m not usually a violent man, but this means too much to me. The only Druid I trust is a boyhood friend, and he is still away mastering their secrets.

“I need someone with your clear view of the future, today. My stepmother constantly plots against me, but I wish to know of dangers from an unexpected source. If I’m really in as much peril as you say, then it’s all the more reason for you to accompany me home. I have a fine horse and provisions, so I can promise you a comfortable journey.”

Freedom was far more important to Oriana than comfort, and she quickly peeled Egan’s fingers off her arm. “Where is your home, sir?”

“West of here, near the mouth of the river Shannon. We have a fine view of the sea, and I miss it terribly.”

Oriana had never encountered such a perplexing individual, and she was deeply disturbed by the growing awareness of her lack of insight where he was concerned. Egan’s presence, however, brought such a terrifying flutter to her stomach that she had great difficulty fighting him, as well as her own confusion.

The knowing, as her mother had called it, was a gift from Lugh. It was his sign that she was his daughter. She had never seen visions; instead the future opened itself in her mind with a certainty she had come to trust as a child. She simply knew a person’s fate, as though Lugh himself were whispering it in her ear. Other than to offer a dire warning, she had no clear messages concerning Egan’s future, but she still sensed he had been wise to seek her out.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

Egan laughed as though she had just told an amusing joke. When he noticed Oriana’s slight frown, he thoughtfully reined in what he saw as a natural response to such an absurd question, but it was only because he dared not insult her.

“I’ll not reveal my methods, dear lady, for if by some chance we’re separated, I’ll need that same means to find you again. But I’ll wager it won’t take me half as long the next time.”

Oriana valued her privacy far too highly to accept such a self-assured boast calmly. “You, sir, are an arrogant swine,” she replied coldly.

Rather than violently disagree, Egan inclined his head slightly. “Aye, you’re not the first to have made such an unkind observation, but as I said, you’ll be well paid for your prophecies, and my gratitude, should they prove useful, will be endless.”

Oriana had been raised to flee at the first sign of trouble, and it was only through a great act of will that she had remained with Egan for as long as she had. He was most definitely cause for alarm because if he had found her, then Duncan could as well.

She needed time to think, but alas, Egan would surely allow her none, and the longer she tarried in the village, the closer Duncan would undoubtedly come to her trail. She closed her eyes, but this time it truly was in serious contemplation, and she was swiftly presented with a plan so desperate she thought it just might succeed.

She needed only the space of two breaths to decide that she and Egan might each profit by serving the other. When viewed in that regard, Egan did not simply pose a thorny new problem; he offered the perfect solution to another.

Oriana was uncertain she actually possessed the courage to suggest such a bold plan, and had to clear her throat to dislodge a painful lump before she was able to speak. “I shall require more than promises of gold and exotic crystals to assist you.”

Although elated that she was at last discussing the matter, Egan’s brows dipped in a puzzled frown. “More than gold? Just what is it you want from me, Oriana?”

As a suggestive grin slid across his lips, it became plain what he hoped she would ask. But Oriana fully expected to wed one of the splendid gods who dwelt in the Otherworld, and she was not even tempted to conduct more than business with a mortal, no matter how handsome. She did not want to offend him, though, and took the precaution of weighing her words before she answered.

“I mentioned a man who wishes me dead. If you’ll serve as my champion and kill him, then I will accompany you home most willingly.”

It was now Egan who had to lean back to put more space between them. Oriana was regarding him with a level, faintly curious gaze, and he recognized her ploy for the outrageous dare it was. She expected him to refuse and depart. But now that he had finally found her, he did not want to risk losing her for any reason, even this absurd demand.

“Aye, my lady. I’ll be your champion,” he vowed, all traces of mirth gone from his expression. He sincerely doubted she could have made an enemy he could not dispatch with a single mighty blow of his sword. “But because I am so eager to risk my life for yours,” he countered, “we must visit my home before we attack your enemy.”

“No,” Oriana said resisting stubbornly, for now that he had agreed to help her, she intended to hold him to his word. “Once we reach your home, you’ll have no time to help me. Duncan must be slain first.”

“Duncan? I’ve heard the name, but know him not.”

“You do not wish to know him, sir, for he is an evil man who blames me for his misfortune even though I could have done nothing to save his intended bride’s life. If you have found me, then he may also be near, and surely you do not wish to slay him where an entire village can witness the deed. Now, help me fold up my tent, and we’ll be on our way.”

Astonished by the abrupt change in Oriana’s attitude, Egan’s mouth nearly fell agape. “You intend to give me orders?”

That he had apparently not even considered such a remarkable occurence made Oriana laugh in spite of the seriousness of her mood. “Yes, indeed I do, sir. Why have you gone to the trouble of seeking me out if you plan to disregard what I say?”

Egan was known for his eloquence, but he simply stared at Oriana, and convinced he had gotten the worst of their bargain, he slowly rose and slipped out of her tent. The ends of four long branches had been buried in the ground to support the coarse fabric walls, all of which hung at peculiar angles, and he thought most children could have constructed a more attractive structure.

“Did Lugh not teach you how to make a better tent?” he asked. With a single fierce yank he ripped the fabric from the branches before Oriana had time to leave her comfortable cushion. Ignoring her surprise, he bowed low, and then rolled the material over his arms to fashion a neat parcel.

Blinded by the sudden brightness of the sun, Oriana quickly looked down at her ornate pouch. Egan surely must have understood that she expected him to allow her the opportunity to exit the small enclosure before he tore it apart. He had acted precipitously out of spite, but she refused to allow him to gloat, and rose with a graceful ease to face him.

She was taller than most women, but her head barely reached his shoulder. He had very wide shoulders, she noted, and a broad chest that narrowed to a flat belly and lean hips. His worn tunic hid none of those superb physical assets, and his leggings were pulled tight over long, powerful legs made taut by his belligerent stance. When she ended her slow perusal and glanced up, she found him observing her with a mocking grin.

“Well, my lady, do you find me fit enough to serve as your champion? But I forgot, you undoubtedly know just how worthy I am, don’t you?”

Oriana clutched her ornate bag more tightly; other than the fact Egan was in some terrible danger, she could discern nothing about his future. She was confident that he had one, but for some maddening reason it was hidden from her, and that was a very troubling sensation for one who survived solely on her ability to know what others did not. Unwilling to share such a damaging confidence, she merely nodded.

“Aye, Egan, I expect you’ll do.”

Egan could not recall another woman ever dismissing him so casually, and his expression simmered between annoyance and disgust as he watched Oriana gather up her belongings. Her cushion was actually a spacious bag that contained her clothing. Once she had removed her long cloak from inside, there was ample room to slide in the small cushion he had used, along with the little basket that held coins and bits of hack silver, and the embroidered bag containing what he assumed were magical stones.

She went about her task with such fluid grace that Egan was swiftly distracted by visions of how beautifully she would dance. There were such talented musicians nearby that he was tempted to spend a while longer at the fair to satisfy his curiosity, but when Oriana wasted not a single motion before donning her cloak and pulling the hood low to hide her face, he knew she would never agree.

“You’ll not need your cloak on such a lovely afternoon,” he advised.

“Not for warmth, surely,” Oriana agreed, “but I’d rather not give those who’ve not yet seen me the opportunity to do so.”

She produced a thick cord from her bag, and after taking the bundled tent fabric from Egan’s arms, she wrapped it securely and used the last of the cord to fashion a strap she slipped over her shoulder. Then, with the bag containing her belongings gripped firmly in her hand, she quickly surveyed the small tent site to be certain nothing had been left behind.

“Where is your horse, Egan?”

Her gown was a pale gray he had mistaken for a soft blue white inside her tent, and her cloak, while patched, was as rich a dark brown as fertile earth. With her red hair, the color was a glorious accent, but he longed to see her dressed in bright green. He had expected her to be much older, perhaps a frail wisp of a woman he’d have to carry in his arms wherever they went. To find her young and lovely, and yet so distant, had unsettled him completely, but he quickly sought to regain control of their small party.

“If you’ll but follow me, mistress, I’ll take you there.” He considered making her traipse around the long way so she would be too tired to argue, but she had shouldered the tent without a word on its weight, and he knew he ought not to let her carry it.

“I’ll take that,” he offered, and grabbed the rough bundle before she could stop him. Egan led the way to his horse without causing her a single extra step, but he cursed under his breath the whole way.

Chapter Two

Oriana had slipped Egan’s beautiful amethyst into her embroidered pouch, but as they made their way past the village to his horse, she doubted that had been wise. The crystal’s uneven facets would prevent her from using it with her other stones, and it was too large to be fashioned into a piece of jewelry. It would be an attractive keepsake, but she had no idea when she would return home and put it on display.

Suddenly Egan paused in midstride and turned to face her. “I’ve been most inconsiderate,” he announced with sincere regret. “Would you rather return to your home before we leave for mine?”

Appalled that he seemed to have read her mind, Oriana took a quick step backward. “Unlike you, sir, I invite no one to my abode.”

Egan was doubly annoyed that while tardy, his effort at courtesy had been rudely rebuffed. He shrugged in dismay. “I didn’t expect to be entertained. I merely thought you might wish to bring other clothing, or whatever else you might need on our journey.”

Oriana rested her free hand on her hip. “Do you think me so easily fooled? I’ll caution you now that I move often and never return to the same dwelling twice.”

Egan had tethered his horse some distance from the village, but he quickly glanced over the gently undulating fields of oats and barley to make certain they had not been followed from the fair. No one had ducked out of sight as he had turned to face Oriana, and he was convinced they were alone. Still, he took the precaution of lowering his voice.

“We’re sure to have frequent arguments, but I’ll warn you only this once that you may not question my motives in front of others. If you must shriek and spit, you’ll do so in private. Is that understood?”

Out in the open Egan looked even taller and stronger than he had first appeared, and Oriana quickly vowed to behave in a more circumspect manner around him. Or at least she would make that attempt until Duncan was dead, and then she would do as she pleased. She slid her hood back to rest upon her shoulders so he could not mistake her expression, and nodded.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll not shame you in front of your kin. Now, it’s already afternoon. Can we not travel while we argue about whatever other disagreements we might have?”

Had her suggestion not been so reasonable, Egan would have argued with her simply to vent his temper, but forced to agree, he turned without comment and led her along the path toward the forest. He was uncertain how a considerate question could have prompted such an angry response. If Oriana continued to view each of his remarks in the most unflattering light, then he would swiftly stop speaking to her unless absolutely necessary.

Egan had left his stallion grazing in the sweet summer grass, and the ebony animal raised his head to whinny a greeting as they approached. Before Egan could warn Oriana to stand back, she walked up to the magnificent horse, and after caressing his neck lightly, stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. The stallion tossed his finely shaped head and snickered softly, as though he appreciated whatever had been said.

“Raven doesn’t usually take to strangers,” Egan offered as he gathered up his mount’s reins. “But he seems to have enjoyed your secrets.”

“He’s a horse fit for a king,” Oriana replied. “That’s all I told him.”

“Aye, he is that,” Egan agreed with an amused chuckle, and quickly tied Oriana’s bundled tent behind his saddle, where he stored his own belongings. Then he took a long look at her.

“We’ll both ride, but I thought you’d be an old woman who’d weigh no more than a leaf.”

Oriana straightened up proudly. “While I’ll readily admit to weighing more than a sprig of greenery, what makes you think that I’m not the oldest women in the valley?”

Egan’s eyes widened slightly. Oriana had been lovely in her shadowy tent. In sunlight, her flawless skin held a golden blush that was utterly enchanting. “You can’t have seen more than seventeen summers,” he swore.

“The gods do not age,” Oriana reminded him with gentle amusement. “So why should I? Perhaps I have seen several hundred summers. Would that astound you?”

“Yes, it most certainly would.” Egan bent slightly and offered his interlaced fingers as a convenient step for Oriana. “You must regale me with tales of your many years as we travel.”

“I doubt that you’d find my life sufficiently entertaining to remain awake,” Oriana cautioned. Still holding her cumbersome bag, she placed a hand on Egan’s shoulder, stepped first in his hands, and then with an agile leap mounted Raven’s back. The horse shook his flowing mane, then turned to look at his master. Oriana gave the horse a reassuring pat on his elegantly arched neck.

“Raven’s in as great a hurry as we are, Egan. Let’s be on our way.”

“I’ve no reason to tarry, but every champion needs a sword.” Without further explanation Egan strode into the trees. Before the wait became uncomfortably long, he returned with a broadsword slung from a leather belt worn low on his hips. The sword’s copper hilt caught the sunlight to reveal an incised design of interlocking circles.

Egan had also retrieved his bow and quiver of arrows. He slipped them over his shoulder before looking up at Oriana. He had meant for her to ride behind him, but she had made herself comfortable in the saddle as though she were the one who belonged there. He was about to complain when he realized she had unwittingly placed herself in his arms, where he could conveniently place one hand over her mouth if need be. Cheered by that thought, he swung himself up behind her. After sliding his right arm around her waist, he held Raven’s reins in his left hand and urged the horse west, toward his home.

Egan’s broad chest made a surprisingly comfortable backrest, and without conscious thought, Oriana gradually relaxed against him. She was still preoccupied with thoughts of Duncan, but knew she should try to prepare herself for whatever she might find at Egan’s home. She supposed that like other wealthy men he must live on an impressively large crannog. She had never spent more than a single night in a water-ringed fort herself, and hoped she would not be confined to his for long.

“You claim to need someone you can trust,” Oriana remarked absently. “When we arrive at your home, do you wish me to merely tell fanciful fortunes, and then tell the truth to you?”

Egan had expected Oriana to continue to be as annoyed with him as he was with her, and he had never expected her to cuddle against him with the easy familiarity of an affectionate lover. When her golden curls brushed his chin, she smelled so sweet, and felt so enticingly feminine, it was difficult to form a coherent reply.

“Aye,” he rasped. “That will do for a start.”

“I should have made you promise not to become as furious with me as Duncan is if the truth is not to your liking.”

“I’m already expecting the worst, so you needn’t worry that you’ll disappoint me.”

Egan’s thighs were pressed along the length of Oriana’s, and he was grateful the thick folds of her cloak separated the inviting roundness of her buttocks from the uncomfortable fullness in his groin. He drew a ragged breath and wished he had simply let her ride while he led Raven. Seeking to distract himself from the taunting physical need he knew she would regard with disdain rather than satisfaction, he sought to allay his curiosity about her.

“For now, I want to hear how Lugh came to choose your mother for his wife. It has to be a fascinating tale.”

Caught off guard, Oriana dipped her head momentarily. She leaned forward on her lumpy travel bag and ran her fingers through Raven’s mane. She wasn’t in the least bit ashamed of her heritage but still hesitated to share such a personal story.

“What’s wrong?” Egan persisted. “You’re trusting me to protect your life. Surely you can trust me with a romantic story.” He raised his right hand from her waist to make a solemn vow. “I promise never to repeat it.”

Oriana licked her lips nervously, for in truth, she had never been called upon to trust anyone. The only time she was with strangers was when she told fortunes, and then people placed their trust in her, not she in them. With the gift of the knowing, she trusted in herself, and that was all that truly mattered. A long moment passed before she straightened to rest against Egan’s chest.

“Egan, when you mentioned your need for a clear view of the future, I should have asked if you didn’t trust your own instincts,” she mused aloud.

“Oh, yes, indeed I do,” Egan assured her. “But I still need confirmation I’m correct in my judgments before I act on them. Now stop attempting to distract me. Tell me about your mother and Lugh.”

“I’m not certain I can do their story justice,” Oriana murmured softly, “but because you insist, I will try.”

“Please do, and you will earn my undying gratitude, dear lady,” Egan responded, with more sarcasm than he had intended.

Even with her decision made, Oriana needed a long moment to gather her thoughts, and she completely missed Egan’s rudeness. “People sometimes describe me as pretty, but my mother was the embodiment of beauty itself. She was the daughter of a wealthy farmer, and was greatly admired. She had many fine suitors, but regarded the whole lot as unbearably tedious and at every opportunity escaped into the forest to be alone.”

Oriana paused to look up at Egan, and he responded with an encouraging nod. “One afternoon she chose a new path, and came upon a lake of such crystal purity that she tarried far longer than she should have merely contemplating the reflection of the clouds overhead. When she finally started for home, darkness overtook her, and wandering lost, her steps circled back to the beautiful lake. That was where Lugh appeared, and he took her hand in a clasp of exquisite tenderness and guided her home.

“Unlike her suitors, who talked of nothing but themselves, Lugh spoke not a single word that night. As you might expect, my mother was very favorably impressed, and the next day, she returned to the lake where they had met. No,” Oriana corrected herself. “What she always said was that she was drawn back, as though pulled by an invisible tether. It was a lure so powerful, she swore she could not have resisted its force. She found Lugh pacing the shore of the lake, anxiously awaiting her arrival. When he drew her into his arms, the whole forest came alive with a hauntingly beautiful melody.”

Egan believed that gods and spirits inhabited every rock, tree, river, and hill, but that did not mean he believed a single word of Oriana’s enchanting tale. However, he was immensely entertained. “Was your mother always so poetic?”

Oriana had only to close her eyes to hear her still. “Yes, and her voice was as sweet as a songbird’s. She was lovely in every way, a fit bride for a god. Her parents had expected her to make a fine marriage and enrich the whole family. But she couldn’t return home and wed another after giving her heart to Lugh, so she fled with him deep into the forest.

“He was with her when I was born, and I imagine quite often after that, but he didn’t allow me to see him until I was grown, and he came to escort my mother into the Otherworld.”

Egan thought it far more likely that Oriana’s mother had had a mortal lover of whom her parents did not approve. The scoundrel must have abandoned her when she had conceived, and she had hidden in the forest rather than face her parents’ wrath. That she had raised her daughter on a poetic fantasy rather than an ugly truth was understandable, but that Oriana claimed to have seen Lugh was absurd.

“Wait a moment,” Egan urged. “I’ve no doubt that you saw someone, but how did you recognize him as Lugh?”

Oriana turned slightly to face Egan and instantly took exception to his skeptical frown. “He was exactly as my mother described him, a being of such radiant light he could have been no one else. You may scoff as loudly as you please, but it will not change the truth of what happened.”

Egan found the stubborn tilt of her chin so charming, he refrained from any such rude outburst. “No, I’ll not laugh, my lady. Now, I should not have interrupted you. Please continue, and tell me where you spent your childhood.”

Oriana shook her head slightly and turned back toward the road. “No. I should have known better than to confide in you. The mistake was entirely mine. Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Egan stressed, but failed to hide his discontent. “Were you a happy child?” he asked. The slump of Oriana’s shoulders made it plain that she had not been. He could easily imagine her chasing squirrels and climbing trees. He could not bear to think she had been unhappy.

“Please,” he urged with surprising tenderness.

Oriana could not recall a man ever speaking to her in such an intimate manner. While telling fortunes, she had heard everything from polite inquiries to bawdy teasing, but nothing ever quite that softly suggestive. It brought a strange longing for something she could not even name, and she spoke more to herself than to him when she replied.

“I don’t like to recall that time because people were often cruel to my mother, but the creatures of the forest were kind, and once we discovered I possessed the knowing, we never lacked for anything.”

“Wait a moment,” Egan urged. “Did your mother never return to her people to tell them about Lugh, or to show off her beautiful daughter?” He could not believe any family would disown Oriana’s mother if she had been even half as lovely as her daughter.

“Once my mother left to be with Lugh, she never returned home. I’ve no idea who my mother’s people even are, but it’s always given me great comfort to know I am the daughter of a god. Would you like to hear his song?”

Egan could not resist giving her a fond pat. “Please sing for me. I’m most eager to hear your father’s song.”

From such a beautiful young woman, Egan anticipated a delicate soprano, and perhaps a pretty tune the minstrels would covet, but when Oriana began to sing, it was in a rich, throaty alto. There were no words, but the most haunting melody he had ever heard. It soared, then dropped to a near whisper, at once joyous and so poignant it brought tears to his eyes.

He had not believed such a thing was even possible, but surely the song was divine, and Oriana really had learned it from Lugh. All too quickly she fell silent, and Egan had never felt so deprived. He was at a loss for a means to describe how deeply he had been touched by the deceptively simple song.

Egan drew Raven to a halt with a quick yank on the reins. “Would you sing that again, please?” he whispered.

When Oriana turned to look up at him, she found his eyes had lost their amused sparkle and reflected instead a stunned amazement. At that moment she could have given up speaking entirely and for the rest of her life sung only that one painfully sweet song.

But as she drew the breath to reply, she heard the faint echo of hoofbeats in the distance. A chilling terror stole up Oriana’s spine, and she grabbed hold of Egan’s tunic.

“That’s Duncan coming. He’ll be upon us swiftly, and a meaner man was never born.”

Jarred from the blissful music of paradise to that gruesome image, Egan urged Raven off the worn trail, leaped down from his back, and thrust the reins in Oriana’s hands. Although he thought it might be a different, harmless man on the road, he intended to be ready for the worst. He shed his cloak, drew his sword, and swung it around above his head before bringing it down upon the grass in a powerful blow.

“Remain with Raven,” he ordered. “If it looks as though I’ll be the one to die, save yourself and ride away.”

Oriana was already tempted to flee, but fought down her fear long enough to shake her head. With Duncan intent upon killing her, she wasn’t intimidated by the mere fierceness of Egan’s scowl. Celtic warriors would kill for mere sport, but her cause was just, and Egan would be a true champion.

“Even if you have never trusted anyone, trust me now,” she begged of him. “Duncan will swear to the boldest lie. Nothing will appease his lust for my blood, but I am innocent of any crime. Please believe me.”

Forcing his concentration away from her and toward the road, Egan shoved the tip of his blade into the earth, rested his palms on the incised hilt, and widened his stance. “It is you who are not trusting me, Oriana, or you’d know I’d never forsake you.”

Before Oriana could respond, Duncan O Floinn came into view. He was a great bear of a man with a full red beard. His mud brown steed exhaled with a groaning snort each time his hooves struck the packed earth of the trail. Duncan had let it be known that he would pay well for word of Oriana’s whereabouts, and only that morning a runner had brought him the news he desired. For the last hour he had ridden hard to reach the village before Oriana again vanished into the forest.

He had not expected to find her alongside the trail, nor had he anticipated her having a warrior’s protection. He barely slowed his mount before leaving his saddle with a flying stumble. Regaining his balance, he brandished his sword and approached Oriana cursing with the foulest language possible.

“Step aside,” Duncan shouted at Egan. “Just hand over that flame-haired bitch, and I’ll allow you to live.”

Egan laughed as he raised his sword. “I’d never abandon a lady, nor will I allow you to address her as though she were the unfortunate woman you call ‘wife.’”

At that taunt, Duncan let out an enraged howl and charged Egan. With blurring speed, Egan swung his sword to block Duncan’s blow. Their iron blades crashed together with a bone-jarring clang that sent every bird in the nearby forest screeching from its nest. The sky darkened with beating wings, then cleared as the graceful wave soared aloft.

Equally startled, Raven reared up on his hind legs, and Oriana threw her weight forward and clung to his mane to steady him. She had not ridden on horseback more than half a dozen times in her life, and would have had difficulty controlling such a spirited mount when he was in a tranquil mood. Now it was all she could do just to stay in the saddle. Certain she would be trampled to death beneath Raven’s dancing hooves should she be thrown, she hung on tightly.

Unaware of Oriana’s predicament, Egan continued battling Duncan without a glance in her direction. The weight of the broadsword soon made his shoulders ache, but he was too finely trained to allow fatigue to slow his moves. He blamed himself for not taking Oriana’s bargain more seriously when she had made it, but he would be damned if he would die for the mistake of arrogant pride.

Far more agile, Egan drew back and circled just out of Duncan’s reach. “Before I cleave you in two,” he boasted, “tell me what wrong Oriana has done you.”

“Her curse killed my beloved,” Duncan screamed, and he charged Egan with renewed fury. Egan countered each of Duncan’s vicious blows with his own blade, and after a rough shove, Duncan drew away.

Barely able to draw the breath to defend herself, Oriana fought to turn Raven toward the men. “I gave only a prophecy, Egan, not a curse!”

“My Rose is dead!” Duncan turned his head to shout.

With one mighty blow, Egan could have beheaded the larger man in that split second of inattention, but instead he gave him only an insulting slap with the side of his sword before again stepping out of Duncan’s range.

“Your fight is over here with me, Duncan,” he reminded him with a wide grin.

Nearly blinded by the sweat dripping into his eyes, Duncan swung his sword in a dizzying swirl. He had always relied upon his great size to overwhelm an enemy, but none had ever possessed Egan’s combination of strength and grace. Duncan had fought hard, but with his arms growing weary, he feared he could not fight much longer. In what he hoped would be his last blow, he let out a bloodcurdling yell and charged Egan.

Appearing paralyzed by fear, Egan stood his ground, but at the last instant he stepped aside, stuck out his foot, and sent the larger man sprawling onto the dusty trail. Before Duncan could catch his breath and rise, Egan kicked his sword out of his hand and picked it up.

He feigned a momentary interest in the weapon and then tossed it away. “You’d be far better off making a plow of that blade. Now apologize to the lady and be on your way.”

Duncan was astonished that Egan had not pinned him to the road by driving his own blade through his back, and sensing a trick, got to his feet with a rolling scramble. His leggings were torn at the knees and blood dripped down his shins. Backing away, he raised a shaking hand to point at Oriana.

“She is no lady!” Duncan screamed. “The bitch killed the lovely lass I meant to take for my wife.”

“That’s a lie!” Oriana again protested in her own defense.

“Be quiet, Oriana,” Egan warned darkly. “I’ll handle this.”

“I’ve no quarrel with you,” Duncan repeated, but his eye darted toward his sword, which lay in the thick grass at the side of the road. “Stand aside and let me avenge my dear wife.”

Egan cocked his head. “Now you have confused me. Was this poor dead lass your wife or not?”

Duncan sputtered with rage. “She was mine! And that murdering bitch killed her!”

“You are beginning to annoy me,” Egan complained. “What proof do you have of your accusations?”

“I need no proof when my dear Rose is dead!” Duncan yelled back at him.

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Egan acknowledged wearily. “But how did she die? Was she struck by lightning, or thrown from a horse? Could she have drowned?”

Duncan raised his hands to his hair and looked ready to yank it out by the handful. “No. None of that. She just stopped breathing. It was a curse that struck her down.”

Despite Egan’s objections, Oriana countered softly, “Rose had a weak heart.” Raven had stopped his restless pacing, but she continued to cling to his back with a terrified grip. “I warned Duncan not to expect many fine sons from such a frail woman, but he refused to believe me.”

Duncan clenched his fists at his sides, and growled, “Murderess.”

“Why would she murder your beloved?” Egan asked, and began to circle Duncan with a slow, sliding step, forcing the brute to keep turning to face him.

Duncan raised his hands in a helpless shrug. “She must despise me. I know not why.”

Egan kept circling. “Oriana, do you hate this poor wretch?”

“No, sir, I do not.” Oriana held her breath, for she feared Egan was merely playing with the defeated man. Surely he was lulling him into a foolish complacency and would soon lunge and drive his blade clear through Duncan’s sagging belly. She shuddered at the thought of such a dreadful sight; she did not wish to hear Duncan’s flesh tear, nor his horrible screams of agony, but she could not force herself to look away.

She had been too busy hanging on to Raven to view more than momentary flashes of the men’s battle, but she had seen how smoothly Egan fought compared to Duncan’s wild, hacking blows. It had been such a sickening spectacle that she felt nauseated still, but she thought Egan cruel for prolonging its inevitable end.

“Who are your people, Duncan?” Egan asked suddenly.

“The O Floinn, and if I fail to kill that lying bitch, they will track her down and slay her,” he bragged bravely, and then spit in the dirt.

“No. I think not,” Egan replied. “Because I’m generously going to allow you to exchange your sorry life for hers. Should any harm ever come to her, I’ll be the one to hunt you down. I’m Egan of the Dál Cais, and I don’t issue idle threats, so mark my words carefully and remember them well. Now give me your solemn promise to speak nothing but praise for Oriana’s name. I think I’ll also take your horse, although he is no better a mount than you are a warrior.”

Duncan cast a confused glance toward Oriana, unable to believe Egan simply meant to let him go. “All you expect is my word?” he asked incredulously.

“Aye, and that ugly horse.” Egan nodded toward the beast, who had lumbered into the forest when their battle had begun, and stood grazing in the tall grass. “And your sword,” Egan amended.

Duncan stared at him as though uncertain whether to accept his conditions, prompting Egan to be more explicit.

“Would you rather meet your death here in this narrow road? I will warn you now that I’ll not kill you cleanly, so you can expect to lie moaning in your own blood for hours before I finally slit your throat. Well, make up your mind. Which is it to be?”

Egan had now quelled any hope Duncan might have had of regaining his sword, and though Duncan’s glance remained murderous, he nodded stiffly.

“Swear,” Egan prodded.

In the long silence that followed the order, Oriana was as deeply confused as the newly humbled Duncan. As she relived the vicious sword battle in her mind, she wondered if Raven had commanded so much of her attention that she had simply missed seeing Egan attack. She had seen him defend himself admirably, but not once do more than taunt Duncan with his blade.

By the time a crestfallen Duncan finally raised his hand and swore that he would never harm her, she was convinced this stunning defeat was all Egan had ever wanted. From the start, perhaps from the moment he had accepted her bargain in her tent, he had not meant to strike Duncan dead.

Appalled, Oriana slid off Raven’s back, and after dropping his reins so he would remain where he stood, she walked away into the woods. She was shaking so badly that she had to lean back against an oak, and even then, she didn’t feel secure. She had given her word to a man who made expedient bargains, but that did not mean she would go back on her own.

When several minutes later Egan touched her shoulder, she jumped in surprise. “Is Duncan gone?” she asked fretfully.

“He’s limping back to the village. He’ll find somewhere to stay the night, and start for home in the morning. You needn’t worry he’ll overtake us on the road.”

Oriana watched Egan rake his hair off his forehead. A light sheen of perspiration coated his features, but otherwise, he scarcely seemed to have exerted himself. “You’ve made a very bad mistake,” she warned. “In sparing Duncan’s life, you’ve left mine in danger, and created a new enemy for yourself. It isn’t too late though. You can still kill Duncan before he reaches the village. You have that right. Go now and do it.”

She was pale and obviously shaken, but Egan was unmoved by her plea. She had a peculiar habit of ordering him about, but he saw no reason to obey. “No. I’ll not go back on my word,” he stated firmly.

“What of your word to me?” Oriana felt her lower lip tremble and slid her teeth over the soft fullness to hide such a pathetic show of weakness.

Egan found the gesture charming. He rested his arm against the tree and leaned so close that their noses were nearly touching. “I agreed only to be your champion, my lady. I said nothing about killing anyone. Duncan is a clumsy oaf, but I did risk my life defending yours, and now I expect you to show some gratitude.”

He closed his eyes as he inclined his mouth toward hers, but rather than meekly acquiesce, Oriana shoved away from the tree and ducked under his arm. “How dare you!” she cried. “I willingly offered my gift, but that’s all I’ll exchange for your defense, inadequate as it was.”

Dismayed by the insult, Egan straightened to his full height. “Inadequate? If I went around killing every man who’d ever offended a woman, I’d be the only man left alive.”

“Duncan did not merely offend me, sir. He threatened to kill me merely because my prophecy proved correct!”

The color had rushed back to Oriana’s cheeks, and as she shook her fist at him her hair flew about her head in a wild tangle. Egan wanted to laugh, but even more, he longed to lure her back into his arms, spread her worn cloak over the grass, and bury himself in her heat.

“Tell me exactly what transpired between you and Duncan,” he suggested instead. “You’ve yet to supply the details, and I believe that’s where my confusion lies.”

Egan crossed his arms over his chest and looked prepared to listen to a lengthy confession, but Oriana’s words were few. “It was at a fair similar to the one where we met. Duncan was with several drunken friends who dared him to consult me. He asked only if Rose would give him many fine sons, and I couldn’t lie.”

“Of course not,” Egan scoffed, “but couldn’t you have softened the truth a little?”

Oriana began to twist her hands, then quickly hid them behind her back. “Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “I have done that upon occasion when the prophecy is a gloomy one, but what can one say when the specter of death is so clear?”

In spite of himself, Egan was being drawn into her tale and he had to agree that death was indeed a very difficult prophecy to soften. “Well, yes, I see your point, but just what did you tell Duncan?”

Oriana tried to recall her exact words. “I told him that while Rose was very beautiful, she was too frail to be his wife. I begged him to set his sights upon another. When he refused, I told him how sorry I was, but that Rose would not live to see their wedding day.”

“And she obviously didn’t,” Egan surmised.

“No.” For a long moment Oriana studied the grass curving over her soft leather shoes. “Actually I was being very kind to him, and I hope he never learns the truth.”

“You mean there’s more to this story?” Noting how preoccupied she was, Egan closed the distance between them with silent steps.

“Yes. Duncan was desperately in love with Rose, but she thought him as clumsy an oaf as you do. Her parents were thrilled by his wealth, though, and welcomed him as her husband. When they told Rose they had arranged the match, she was so terrified she ran from their home, and the strain on her heart was too great. She fell dead in their meadow before anyone could reach her.”

When Oriana looked up at Egan, she wasn’t at all surprised to find him again standing so near. He always seemed to be at her fingertips, and yet now it wasn’t disconcerting. “I would never have told Duncan that Rose would rather be dead than his bride, however. That would have been too cruel a thing to say to anyone.”

“I agree. Did all this fascinating information come to you when you first met Duncan?” Egan tried to keep the laughter out of his voice, but failed.

“I don’t blame you for not believing in me, but all I actually saw was that his dear Rose would soon die. As for the details of her death, I learned those later from one of her friends.”

“Oh, I see,” Egan murmured, and ran his hands up Oriana’s arms. When she didn’t flinch, he tightened his grasp slightly. “Perhaps you’ll answer this one question for me.”

Oriana tried to hide her panic, but she really didn’t believe she could tell Egan anything more than she already had. She had never been able to see into her own future, and had only the faintest glimpse of his.

“That depends upon what it is,” she replied unsteadily.

“Whether you have lived for several hundred years, or merely seventeen, why have you no husband to defend you? Had I not come along, you’d have had to face Duncan all alone.”

Oriana licked her lips, not realizing how provocative it appeared. “I have no family, no dowry to offer any mortal man, so I’ve received no proposals, but my mother always assured me that Lugh meant for me to wed a god just as she had.”

“Is that what you want?” Egan asked in a hoarse whisper. He still believed her mother had raised her on fantasy, but the song Oriana had sung hovered in his mind as a taunting reminder that perhaps at least a part of her past was true. He made the mistake then of looking into her lovely golden eyes, and realized he wanted her so badly that he did not care if a god cursed him.

What Oriana saw in Egan’s expression was such naked desire that she quickly broke free of his grasp. He had boldly asked for her gratitude, but she would never surrender her body while her heart remained untouched.

“I will hold you to our bargain, sir,” she swore as she backed away. “I owe you my prophecies and nothing more.”

She turned and ran away from Egan as swiftly as Rose must have fled the awful news that killed her. Overcome with an unfamiliar sense of defeat, Egan took his time in following.

Chapter Three

Oriana rode Duncan’s huge beast of a horse for the remainder of the afternoon. Unlike Raven, who possessed a smooth dancing step, the brown gelding swayed from side to side in an exceedingly awkward gait. Oriana gripped the reins so tightly that her hands began to ache, and she feared after riding for so long that she would be sore from her waist to her knees on the morrow.

Without Egan’s firm shoulders at her back, she soon grew weary and oddly bereft, although she considered it ridiculous to miss a man she had known less than a day. And yet she could still feel his disquieting presence from where he rode ten paces behind her. She could feel his deep scowl without turning to observe his expression.

Egan’s mood was of slight consequence, however, when danger still surrounded him with a thick, ugly shadow that deepened as they traveled toward his home. Someone was dead, someone Egan held dear, but Oriana felt none of the poignant sorrow she associated with a woman’s demise. She heard only a faint whisper rather than the clear voice of the knowing, but she sensed it was a powerful man whose death had sent tremors of agony throughout his family. Egan might have ridiculed her prophecy, but she shuddered to imagine how terrible his grief would be when it proved true.

Lost in thought, Egan rode farther than he had intended before urging Raven into a trot to overtake Oriana’s plodding mount. “Follow me into the woods,” he ordered, and after easily herding her horse off the trail, he rode ahead.

Selecting a secluded spot above a rapidly running stream, Egan dismounted, released the tent and his gear from the ties behind his saddle, and tossed them to the mossy ground. The saddle quickly followed.

Without a glance toward Oriana, Egan surveyed the small clearing, chose a low limb of a gnarled oak, and unfurled the tent over it. He then slipped his bow and quiver off his shoulder, unbuckled his sword, and placed his weapons high in the tree. He pulled his tunic over his head and, carrying it over his shoulder, led Raven down to the stream.

Oriana had avoided looking down ever since Egan had shoved her into Duncan’s horse’s saddle. Now rudely abandoned rather than graciously assisted to dismount, she hazarded a peek toward the ground, gasped at how very far away it seemed, and shut her eyes tightly. Certain she would break her neck in the fall should she dismount on her own, she had no choice but to remain astride the great brute of a horse.

The big gelding tossed his head, jerking the reins from Oriana’s grasp, and nibbled at the lush grass underfoot while she was left to struggle with her own gnawing hunger. Hot tears of frustration had begun to roll down her cheeks before Egan finally returned from the stream where he had left Raven to graze.

“Oriana,” he called as he approached her. “Are you ill?”

Oriana stared at him coldly. His dark hair was wet and dripping glossy trails down his bare chest, but that he would speak to her half clothed only increased her anger.

“I’m surprised you finally found the manners to ask, my lord, but the answer is no. I’m so desperately tired I don’t trust my legs to hold me should I somehow find the courage to leap from this horrible beast’s back.”

Egan had expected to find Oriana seated in front of her tent brushing the dust of the trail from her long curls and cursing him for one imagined slight or another. Because he knew her to be far from helpless, he had to laugh at her near hysterical description of her predicament.

“Forgive me, my lady, but you made what you thought of me so plain that I doubted you would appreciate my attentions.”

He did not make her beg, however, but instead reached up to grasp her narrow waist and with a smooth pivot deposited her on the grass. When she wobbled as though she might truly fall, he scooped her up in his arms.

Oriana kept a grip on her bag rather than loop her arms around Egan’s neck, but she still felt the smooth warmth of his golden skin. She had never been in a man’s arms, but she was far too distraught to appreciate how gently Egan held her. He carried her with ease to her tent, placed her gingerly on her feet, and she quickly grabbed hold of the low limb to remain standing.

“Thank you,” she murmured through clenched teeth. “Now I do hope the provisions you mentioned will be better than the rest of this awful day.”

“Had I known you were hungry, I would have stopped much sooner,” Egan assured her, but indeed, it had not even occurred to him that she might not have eaten earlier in the day. “I’m accustomed to traveling alone, but I didn’t mean to neglect you. Tomorrow, please speak up when you wish to stop and rest or eat.”

Oriana could not fault the courtesy of his words, but his expression held more of a dare than a concession to her comfort. He was a proud man, and perhaps justly so, but she had her own pride as well. Her skin felt gritty, her clothing reeked of horse sweat, and she longed for the coolness of the stream. While Egan’s confidence apparently never failed him, she feared she looked far from her best and shrank away from him.

“Thank you, my lord,” she responded, mocking the insincerity of his tone. Turning away, she drew in a deep breath, and while weaving slightly, walked toward the water with an admirably even step. She glanced back only once, and found Egan sorting through his belongings for what she hoped would be the makings of a delicious meal.

She moved upstream to bathe, and after dressing in a clean linen chemise and gown, washed the wrinkled garments she had donned that morning. She cared little for clothes, and reclusive by nature, required only a few changes rather than the many pretty gowns wealthy maidens wore to impress their suitors.

Following Egan’s example, she spread her wet clothes to dry upon the shrubbery crowding the stream, and, driven by hunger, returned to him. She was relieved to see that he was now wearing a clean tunic and grateful he had unsaddled her mount, as she had completely forgotten the animal. But as she set her bag by the opening of her tent, she was disappointed to find he had provided only bread, carrots, and cheese.

Correctly reading her glance, Egan poked a long branch into the fire he’d coaxed to life, then picked up his fishing line. “This is a poor time to fish, but I’ll catch us some. Mind the fire while I’m gone.”

“Aye, I’ll give it a stick or two,” Oriana promised, and the instant his back was turned, she tore a hunk of bread from the small loaf. It had been baked that morning and was still soft in the center. She used her own knife to slice off a hunk of cheese, and then was content to rest until the fire needed tending.

All too soon she had to struggle to her feet, and then wander in ever-widening circles to gather fallen branches. Though she was concerned wolves might be lurking in the woods, she was more worried about getting lost, and kept a watchful eye on their small camp.

She knew every hill and stream, all the footpaths through the forests farther south, and never lost her way there, but Egan had taken her into unfamiliar territory. She rejoiced in the tranquillity of the woods after a harrowing day, but sunset brought a cool breeze and inspired the necessary industry to keep the fire burning bright.

The gathering dusk had deepened to a soft purple haze before Egan reappeared, but he was carrying three good-sized fish, and Oriana greeted him warmly. “You appear to be an excellent fisherman at any hour, and those shouldn’t take long to cook.”

Rather than move toward the fire, Egan stood back and left his catch dangling from his line. “Who fishes for you, Oriana? Who hunts to provide game for your table? Is it some lovesick man or boy, or do the gods come with the rising moon and leave delectable meals on your doorstep?”

He was taunting her again, and Oriana moved to place the crackling fire between them. “It’s foolish to laugh at me, Egan, for you’ll have great need of me once we reach your home. Or perhaps you’re as sorry as I am that we ever struck a bargain. If so, I’ll gladly leave you now, and you’ll be able to return home without the bother of my annoying company.”

“Oh, no,” Egan chided. “With things as dire as you predict, I dare not let you go.” He took a step toward her, and when she again shied away from him, he doubted being ridiculed was her real worry. Such fearful innocence in a beautiful woman was amusing when it was so unnecessary, and turning his attention to the fish, he knelt to remove them from his line.

“You are lovely, Oriana, but I have more than my share of willing women and won’t force myself on you. I’d be a poor champion if I did, now, wouldn’t I?”

Oriana was surprised by what struck her as a bizarre change of subject, but she would not encourage Egan by denying his ludicrous assumption. She already thought him a poor champion, but despite her offer, she was too sore and tired to leave him that night. She watched him fashion a rack from green branches, and when he placed it over the fire and lay the fish across it, it occurred to her that he frequently cooked his own meals.

“You travel often,” Oriana mused aloud.

“Aye, that I do,” Egan replied, and he slowly wound his fishing line around his fingers.

He was avoiding her glance, which was so unlike him, Oriana became very curious. “Why? Are you merely seeking adventure, or driven to escape a vexing situation at home?”

Oriana had Egan’s full attention now, and the fire clearly illuminated the disgusted downward curve of his mouth. “The last time I left home, it was to find you.”

“No,” she replied softly. “Finding me was a convenient excuse. You wanted to leave. Nay, needed to get away. Why?”

Oriana’s bright curls caught the fire’s flickering light, but what Egan saw was her own seductive glow. He reminded himself that she claimed to know the future rather than the past, but he could not shake the horrible sensation that she understood more than he would ever want to reveal.

“Why?” he repeated hoarsely.

“Yes, why? It’s now your turn to entertain me, Egan. Tell me about your parents and your childhood. Did you foster with another wealthy family? Have you handsome brothers and perhaps several pretty sisters with your dark hair and blue eyes?”

The scent of burning fish prompted Egan to stoop and turn their supper, but the mention of family had taken the edge off his appetite. He rose but kept his attention focused on the fire. “My story is not nearly as engaging as yours, Oriana.”

“I’m still eager to hear it,” she replied.

Egan nodded reluctantly, but he waited until the fish were cooked and he and Oriana were seated to eat before he began. Even then, he parceled out his tale between lengthy pauses as they sampled their simple fare.

“My mother fell to her death when I was small. My father mourned her loss deeply, but was eventually enticed from his grief by a beautiful young girl named Ula.

“They wed and had a son, but while Kieran and I are related by blood, we’ve never been brothers. Ula intended for me to foster with her family, but I refused, and my father lacked the heart to make me go.

“The Druid I mentioned, Albyn, he and I spent our youth hunting, raising falcons, and racing horses. Then he was drawn to the Druid’s life and left to seek their knowledge. Since then, I’ve traveled often, but on my own.”

Despite her hunger, Oriana listened attentively with an ear to the emotion underlying Egan’s words. Clearly he was his father’s son, but he held no trace of affection for his stepmother or half brother. She could readily imagine him as a handsome youth violently opposing any suggestion Ula made. Now he apparently avoided conflict by frequent travel. The thought that he must miss his father as greatly as she missed her mother filled her with sorrow.

“Then you’ve grown up as alone as I,” Oriana murmured thoughtfully, surprised to find they shared an unexpected kinship.

Egan watched Oriana cut a slice each of bread and cheese, and wondered how she could draw any comparison between them. “At least I know my father,” he remarked, and then instantly regretted being so unkind.

While hurt, Oriana pretended a rapt fascination with her last bite of fish rather than meet Egan’s gaze. “I’ll not argue with you, but simply remind you of my warning.”

Finished with his meal, Egan brushed the last crumbs from his hands. “I’ve not forgotten. You believe I’m in some terrible danger and that the lives of my loved ones are at risk.”

“Indeed,” Oriana whispered, understanding now that his father was the only person who could be described as such. “But there’s more.”

Egan rested his arms on his knees and leaned toward her. “More terrible danger? You saw how easily I defeated Duncan, and few men could give me a tougher battle.”

He had a remarkably expressive face, but Oriana’s glance lingered on his eyes. “Someone is dead. A man, I believe, and I fear it’s your father.”

The shock of her words registered immediately, and, horrified, Egan leaped to his feet and began to back away. “My father is still a young man and as strong as a bull. Your prophecy is wrong this time, Oriana, very wrong.”

Oriana let him stalk off into the night without comment, but her confidence in the knowing remained unshaken. However, now she understood the terror that prevented Egan from believing.

After a deep, dreamless sleep, the next morning Oriana awoke with a start and found a still sleeping Egan snuggled against her. He had not returned to their camp before she had fallen asleep, but she certainly did not recall inviting him to share her tent while they’d eaten supper. He obviously thought an invitation unnecessary, but a quick jab of her elbow served to disabuse him of the idea.

It wasn’t until Egan propped himself up on his elbow and raked his hair out of his eyes that the width of his grin made her realize the gravity of her error—it was now too late for her to slip out of the tent unnoticed.

“Yes, mistress?” Egan asked. Before she could respond, he used his free hand to pull her closer to his chest and leaned down to place a light kiss on her forehead. “May I be of some service?”

Oriana had never shared a bed with anyone other than her mother, and Egan was fast coiling himself around her, trapping her in his muscular arms, which was the very last place she wished to be. “You presume too much, my lord,” she stated accusingly, “and I’ll thank you to stay away from my tent from now on.”

“Very well. I’ve no real interest in your tent,” Egan assured her with a deep chuckle.

“And me as well,” Oriana quickly demanded.

“Well, now, that is another matter entirely, my lady.” Egan was accustomed to young ladies who enjoyed a playful jest, and he thoroughly enjoyed teasing Oriana, but her hardy distaste was impossible to mistake, so he regretfully released her.

Egan sat up and stretched his arms. “I shouldn’t have become angry with you last night. I meant to apologize, but you were already asleep, and I saw no reason to sleep out in the cold when you have this fine tent. Perhaps someone really has died, my stepmother or cursed half brother, but it can’t possibly be my father. He was in robust good health when I left home, and I haven’t been away long enough for such a strong man to grow frail.”

That Egan was distracted enough to release her was all Oriana craved, and she left the loosely draped tent at a quick crawl. Once outside, she pulled her chemise into place and grabbed the gown she had left folded atop her bag. She yanked it over her head and smoothed it over her hips with an anxious pat.

“Think whatever you like,” she said, “but we must be on our way.” She slid her feet into her shoes, but her first step toward the stream brought the agonizing burst of pain she had feared. Muscles she had not even known she possessed screamed with the effort to walk, and she lurched into the limb supporting her tent and hung on.

Egan left the tent in time to observe the unsteadiness of Oriana’s step. “You’re unaccustomed to riding, aren’t you?”

Oriana’s sleep-tousled curls bobbed as she nodded. “I don’t think I can ride again today,” she moaned. “Just go on without me, and I’ll follow the road back the way we came to return home.”

Egan circled the ancient oak to face her. “No, I think not. If you ride seated across my lap you’ll be comfortable enough, and Duncan’s horse can carry our gear.”

Despite the shadow of his beard, Egan looked remarkably refreshed, while Oriana ached all over. The prospect of riding with him again wasn’t at all unpleasant, but she doubted it would be wise, as he used any excuse to hug and kiss her. He undoubtedly showed all young women the same easy affection, and although she was loath to accept it, she still wished it had been inspired by true regard rather than mere habit.

“I went to the fair simply to earn enough silver to purchase a new winter cloak,” she blurted out. “I didn’t long for an adventure.”

As expected, Egan stepped close and slid his arm around her shoulders in a comforting hug. “Perhaps you should have told your own fortune.”

“The gods won’t allow me to see my own future, but it doesn’t mean I can’t see yours.” Although she certainly wished she could discern more than menacing shadows and the uncomfortable presence of death.

“How much longer will it take us to reach your home?” she asked anxiously.

Egan shrugged and released her. “Two, maybe three days. It depends on how fast a pace we set.”

Oriana glanced over her shoulder to search for the horses and found they had not wandered far during the night. “How fast a pace can we set if we both ride Raven?”

The pain was too bright in her golden eyes for Egan to suggest otherwise. “You’re very slender, Oriana. I doubt Raven will even be aware of your weight. Now, can you walk to the stream on your own or shall I carry you?”

“No, thank you. I believe I should make the effort to walk there on my own.” Oriana clung to the branch to gather her resolve.

Egan had never met such a single-minded young woman, and disappointed his efforts at distracting her from her dreary predictions had again proven futile, he left to gather firewood to cook the fish he would catch for their breakfast.

It was a fine morning for travel, but he refused to be influenced by Oriana’s sense of urgency. Instead he allowed himself to dwell on how good she would feel in his arms rather than what he might find when he arrived home.

Oriana understood how desperately Egan needed her prophecy to be false, and thoughtfully did not repeat it. The specter of death still loomed between them, however, making them increasingly awkward companions. Their journey finally drew to an end on a breezy afternoon.

“Can you smell the sea?” Egan asked, and urged Raven forward at a swifter pace, while the brown horse they’d named Brute trailed on a tether.

“Aye, I can,” Oriana replied, for the salty scent drifted easily on the light wind. It was an invigorating fragrance, but, filled with dread of what lay ahead, she kept her fingers laced in Raven’s mane.

As they neared the rocky coast, Egan pointed toward the craggy face of a mountain half veiled in mist. “My home lies just ahead,” he bent to announce, his breath warm against Oriana’s ear.

Oriana strained to see. This was no crannog with thatch-roofed huts, but a stone fortress cradled against the mountain’s stark cliffs. She caught sight of the black pennant flying from the tower the same instant as Egan did. He cried out as though he had been struck, and she had no time to brace herself before he yanked Raven to a jarring halt.

Egan leaped from his stallion’s back with Oriana still clutched in his arms. He swung her around to face him, and his fingers dug into her arms like claws. “This was no mere prophecy,” he screamed. “All this time you’ve known my father was dead!”

Furious anger darkened his eyes to a threatening gray, and Oriana looked up at the mighty warrior she had hoped would slay Duncan O Floinn. Egan had possessed the strength that day, but not this stunning violence. He could snap her neck as easily as a twig, and she sensed he was sorely tempted.

“I shared all I knew as a warning,” she reminded him. “Perhaps now you’ll believe in the danger that surrounds you.”

Egan shoved her away with a foul oath. “You are the greatest danger I’ll ever face!”

“I’m no threat,” Oriana assured him calmly. “You are your father’s heir, and that’s where the danger lies.”

Egan could barely force himself to think beyond the crushing pain of his loss. He stared at the black pennant and thought himself a fool for leaving home to chase a prophecy that had led him to the greatest tragedy he had ever known. He drew his knife and cut Brute’s tether, then tossed it to Oriana.

“Aye, I am his heir, and now king of the Dál Cais. I have no further need of you. Take this cursed horse and be gone.”

Oriana stared in stunned silence as Egan left her to lead Raven up the wide trail to his home. She had sought to end their bargain, but not with this bitter scene and his heart broken.

“No, I think not,” she said in a vivid imitation of Egan’s frequent vow.

A gust of wind whipped her curls, lashing her face, and she quickly pulled her hood low to protect her eyes. She then gave Brute a fierce yank to start him along the path, and with a regal step followed the angry young king.

Chapter Four

Oriana struggled to keep up with Egan, but within moments the mist rolled down off the mountain, slid into the valley, and surrounded her in a thick shimmering veil. One moment Egan and Raven were just ahead of her on the trail, and the next, both man and horse had vanished in the moist haze. Oriana dared not call out and infuriate Egan further, so she hurried after him, straining to follow the echo of Raven’s hooves on the rocky trail. She yanked on Brute’s tether, but he was unwilling to tread upon ground he could no longer see clearly and stubbornly resisted her lead.

To Oriana’s left, the sea slammed against the rocky cliffs, inspiring her to guide Brute to her right. Unwilling to abandon her mount, she feared she had missed the entrance to Egan’s fortress when just ahead she saw a torch flare. The light barely pierced the deepening mist, but allowed Oriana to make out the shadowy outlines of Egan and Raven.

They were standing outside a wide iron gate that was embedded in a high stone wall. In another few steps, she would have led Brute right into them. Relieved and yet anxious still, she hung back as the gate was raised with a squealing clang. There was still time to retreat unnoticed, but she watched in rapt fascination as Egan was quickly surrounded by six torch-bearing guards.

For an instant, they appeared to dance around him in a welcoming circle, then reversing direction to uncoil, they led him through the gate. The instant Egan again disappeared from view, Oriana’s decision was made. She urged Brute forward. Because of her flowing cloak, she was immediately mistaken for a servant Egan had acquired on his travels. She kept her head low, pressed close to the huge gelding as she untied her travel bag and went unnoticed as Egan questioned the men.

Egan shouted at each in turn, yanked them forward and then shoved them aside as he sought a reasonable explanation for his father’s sudden and totally unexpected death. Nothing he heard satisfied him, and he began a second round of insistent questioning. In the flickering torchlight, his expression was as harsh as the raw edge of his voice, and his gaze as dark as his grief.

Oriana caught only snatches of the disjointed conversations, but heard enough to understand Egan’s father had fallen ill rather than suffered a fatal accident. Others had also contracted the same grave illness, but clearly Egan cared only about the man the guards referred to as Cadell.

In an anguishing quandary, Egan did not catch sight of Oriana until he turned to hand Raven’s reins to one of the guards. His eyes widened slightly, as though her lingering presence was an additional dreadful shock. He raised his hand to point accusingly, and his lips curled in a menacing snarl.

Oriana straightened to face Egan squarely, and heard more than one gasp of surprise as the men who had greeted him now recognized her as a woman rather than a helpful lad. The abrupt arrival of darkness had brought a chill, and it was all she could do not to shiver pathetically. She watched Egan’s hand as his gesture took form, but there was no dread in her expression. She smiled slightly, as if to remind him that he had been the one to seek her out and bring her there.

Egan stared at Oriana, more furious with himself than he could ever be with her, but he could not understand why she had followed him when the sight of her sickened him so. Perhaps all she wanted was the gold he had promised, but she had been a fool to risk his continuing wrath when the price could very well be her life.

Who’s the fool?

Egan heard the softly voiced question clearly but when he glanced over his shoulder, no one stood behind him. Indeed, the guards at the gate had pressed themselves back against the wall to escape another taste of his anger.

He had never heard voices and could not even imagine who might have spoken now. His father’s ghost, perhaps, he agonized. Then the melody Oriana had claimed belonged to Lugh brushed by his ear in a gentle hush, and its sweetness filled his heart with an aching sorrow. Confused and bewildered, he swayed slightly, then turned his palm upward to beckon Oriana to come forward.

Even in her patched cloak, she moved so gracefully she seemed almost to float, and though Egan was certain it was a trick of the mist, he was still moved by the sight. Shaking off that unwanted distraction, he gave the guards a quick order.

“Care for our horses, and one of you should show my lady to my chamber. I’m going to find Ula.”

Egan turned away, leaving Oriana surrounded by men too awestruck to carry out his commands. There was no hostility in their eyes, but simply undisguised amazement. She was equally astonished that Egan had referred to her as his lady, but there had been no time, nor was he in any mood, for her to debate the curious label now.

Striving valiantly to assure respect for Egan’s orders, she cleared her throat. “I doubt the horses are any happier than I am to be kept waiting out here in the cold, but Egan will scarcely be pleased to learn how slowly you do his bidding.”

After an embarrassed jostling, one of the men was shoved forward by his companions. He made a perfunctory bow, then raised his torch and led the way across the open bailey to the inner fortress. A small door cut into a much larger wooden entrance swung open as they reached it. A tiny white-haired woman wrapped in a long gray shawl held up a small lantern and greeted them curtly.

“I’ll see to her now,” she announced to dismiss the guard. “Enter quickly, my lady, or we’ll need the warmth of a thousand fires for heat.”

Oriana had never been inside a stone structure of any size, and as she crossed the threshold, she looked up at the massive wooden timbers that supported the floor above. Her hood fell back upon her shoulders to reveal her windblown curls, and she heard the little woman cry out in surprise.

“Forgive me, my lady,” the elderly servant begged, “but for a moment, I thought the master’s dear mother had returned from the dead. It’s only the red hair that fooled me, though. You don’t resemble her otherwise.”

Oriana wondered if she also reminded Egan of his mother. If so, he had neglected to mention it. “My name is Oriana,” she offered politely. “And who might you be?”

The little woman tugged at her shawl. “I’m Myrna, an old nurse with no babies to tend, but the master asked me to show you to his chamber, and I best be taking you there.”

Oriana followed Myrna’s glance toward a spiral staircase built into the large entryway’s rounded corner. She did not want to share Egan’s quarters, but overwhelmed by the sheer size of his home, feared she might never find him if she asked for other lodgings.

The remaining ache in her hips and legs from the long ride went unnoticed as she followed Myrna up the steep stairs. She trailed her fingertips along the wall for balance, but the rough stones held an aura of dread that caused her to quickly pull away. She had never felt so out of place, and wondered if Egan felt lost there too.

“Does the weather often change so abruptly?” Oriana inquired. “The afternoon was so pleasant.”

“Aye, the mists settle around us most nights,” Myrna murmured, and grateful for an excuse to catch her breath, she paused on a narrow landing.

“ ’Tis Mount Royal, the mountain at our backs. Some say it’s enchanted. Others swear that it’s cursed,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Which do you believe, Myrna?” Oriana had already begun to lean toward the latter opinion.

“Oh, that I’ll not say, my lady.” Myrna grasped a bit more of her skirt, raised her lantern, and continued up the stairs.

Oriana hung back. She did not want to leave without speaking to Egan, but she had not anticipated feeling so severely confined. “Where is Egan’s chamber?” she asked fretfully.

Myrna gestured as they reached a wide landing that opened out onto a long hall. “It’s at the end here, but you needn’t fret. I’ve already sent a boy to light the fire, and the chamber’s always well-kept, even when the master’s away, which is usually the case. He’s not been in residence for more than a month in many a year.”

Huge tapestries lined the wide hall, but the occasional torch did not provide sufficient illumination for Oriana to recognize their subject. “I thought he’d been home quite recently,” she responded as they made their way down the hall.

Myrna appeared confused. “Did he say that? Then it must be true. I’ve become rather forgetful of late. Here we are.” She entered a deep arched doorway and gave the heavy wooden door a practiced shove.

Oriana was uncertain what to expect, but as she entered Egan’s chamber, her attention was immediately drawn to the raised platform which supported Egan’s bed. Strewn with furs, it was indeed a bed fit for a king, but she had absolutely no desire to share it. It was only the sure belief that Egan would not want her there either that kept her from turning to flee.

Fresh rushes covered the plank floor, and candles lit the wooden chests stacked along the wall. The breeze off the sea billowed the tapestry hanging over the narrow window, but the design was easily discernible as falcons in flight. A crackling fire burned on the hearth, but Oriana sensed more than mere warmth in the room.

Unlike the dreary stairwell, Egan’s spacious chamber radiated calm strength. It was as though the essence of the man himself lingered even when he was away. Oriana turned slowly to observe the room more carefully, and then successfully hid her surprise when Myrna directed her attention toward the adjoining privy. Certain the fortress must contain all manner of astonishing features, she hoped to enjoy a complete tour.

“You’ll be wanting some supper,” Myrna announced, and moved toward the door. “And hot water to bathe after your long journey.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf,” Oriana begged, embarrassed by how disheveled she must appear. She clutched her travel bag a little more tightly and cast an apprehensive glance toward the huge bed.

“Oh, I don’t plan to climb the stairs again, but I’ll send up some bread and cheese with the tub and water.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Oriana murmured softly as Myrna slipped out the door.

There was a beautifully carved wooden chair with a comfortable leather cushion near the fire, and Oriana sat down to wait. She doubted she would spend more than a single night in Egan’s home, but she was grateful she would at least have an opportunity to bathe and fill her stomach before she faced him again.

When the wait proved uncomfortably long, she wondered what the intricately carved chests might contain. His clothing, weapons perhaps, or treasures from his travels, but she made no move to satisfy her curiosity. She simply sat, consciously absorbing the sense of Egan’s presence and wishing, however forlornly, that he had trusted her.

When later that night Egan finally returned to his room, he found Oriana asleep on the foot of his bed. She lay dangerously close to the edge, as though she were deliberately taking up as little space as possible. Her pose reminded him of the hunting dogs who loved his bed but knew they belonged on the floor.

Oriana’s fiery hair curtained her face and spread around her shoulders to mingle with the furs. She was wearing a gown he’d watched her wash in the river and smelled enticingly of perfumed soap rather than Raven’s sweat as he did, but he reacted to her fair beauty with a rude shove.

“Wake up,” he chided. “I’m hoarse from yelling at Ula, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go easy with you.”

Rudely jarred awake, Oriana sat up slowly and swung her bare feet off the high bed. She brushed her curls out of her eyes, and stared up at him with what she hoped would pass for sincere sympathy rather than abject pity.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she replied. “I tried to wait up for you.”

Egan tossed his cloak over a nearby chest, then ripped his tunic off over his head and threw it atop the cloak. “Why? Did you really believe I’d listen to your apologies?”

Oriana’s eyes widened, and she hoped Egan would not continue tearing off his clothes to confront her naked when she was already all too aware of his size and strength. “Why would I apologize to you, my lord? You were the one who not only doubted me, but abandoned me at the edge of the sea.”

Considering Oriana worse than insolent, Egan’s face filled with rage. He bent to yank her off his bed, to shake her, to punish her for the unbearable pain of his father’s loss, but the word fool again rang in his head so loudly that he released her as though her pale skin had scorched his hands.

“How do you do that?” he demanded.

Oriana was trapped between the broad wall of Egan’s chest and the foot of his bed, but with a great force of will remained calm. “Just what is it that you believe I’m doing?”

“The voice. It’s calling me a fool just as it did at the gate, and I’ll not tolerate it another moment.”

He looked ready to rip her head from her shoulders, and yet Oriana was more intrigued than frightened. “You heard someone call you a fool just now?”

Egan swiped his hand through his hair as he turned away and began to pace in front of her. “Aye. I’ll not have you running through my head, Oriana.”

He had not reached for the knife at his belt, but bare-chested with his hands rolled into fists, he looked as though that might be his next move. Oriana extended her hand to graze his arm in a tentative caress, and he spun toward her, his light eyes aflame.

He was a terrifying sight, and yet as wildly handsome as she had ever seen him. That stunning awareness came at such an inappropriate time that her cheeks flushed with shame. “I possess no magical powers, Egan. None at all,” she stressed. “If the gods are speaking to you, please listen. They’ve never lied to me.”

“Do you think me a fool as well?” he asked accusingly.

“No. Of course not,” she assured him. “You’re heartbroken over your father’s death. I wish I’d been better able to make you heed my warning, but even if you had, it wouldn’t have softened this terrible blow. Now please tell me what Ula said.”

Egan’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “You’re simply trying to distract me,” he swore darkly.

Oriana held her breath a moment and willed herself to look deeply. She was disappointed when, as before, her gift failed to provide clear insight into Egan’s future, but she was convinced she would never come to any harm at his hands. He hated her, she could see that without relying upon the knowing, and though it saddened her, she wasn’t afraid.

“No,” she confided in a hushed whisper. “That would be devious, and I merely wish to learn what she revealed.”

Taking that for a blatant lie, Egan cursed under his breath and resumed pacing. He would never forgive himself for failing his father in his time of desperate need, and as the guilt raged within him, he spoke to unburden himself rather than out of any desire to confide in the beauty whose honeyed voice had always warned of doom.

“Ula swears she fell ill and suffered such violent pains she begged to die. Father summoned her Druids to cast their spells, but though they succeeded in curing her, when he fell victim to the same torment, their incantations failed to save him. Several others fell ill and died, an ancient Druid among them, but apparently my half brother, Kieran, felt no more than a slight twinge and recovered fully.”

Egan abruptly ceased pacing to stare accusingly at Oriana. “I hate Kieran all the more for that.”

Touched by the depth of his anguish, Oriana again extended her hand. “Come. Sit down with me,” she invited.

“I am now the king!” Egan shouted back at her.

Clearly he was so angry that he longed for a fight with anyone who’d respond, but Oriana was far too wise to fall into that unfortunate trap. “Yes, I understand, and even if I am not among the Dál Cais, I am in your home where you won’t do anyone else’s bidding. But please, sit down with me, and let’s consider what you’ve learned.”

Bewildered by her sensible request, Egan reluctantly slid his hand into hers and sat beside her at the foot of his bed. “Ula tells nothing but lies, so we’ll never know what really happened.”

That he had included her in his anguished reply gave Oriana a moment’s pause, but she grasped his hand fondly in both of hers. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to clear her mind. The suspicion Egan’s father had been poisoned grew strong, but she knew if she spoke that fear aloud, Egan might well respond with a murderous rage that would leave both Ula and Kieran dead. Killing his remaining family was no way for any king to begin his reign, and the consequences among the Dál Cais would surely be dire.

Though the need to protect him surprised her, she did not doubt its value. “You may hate me, Egan,” Oriana began slowly, “but I would like to remain here with you for a few days.”

Egan was feeling too hurt and guilty to think clearly. He had sought her out when he should have been home to care for his father, and her presence cut him as sharply as any knife. Filled with revulsion, he hesitated, but then haunted by the strange voice only he had heard, he thought better of sending her away.

“First swear you aren’t responsible for the voices I heard,” he ordered.

“You have my word on it. I’ve never thought you a fool,” Oriana replied thoughtfully. There was a whole string of uncomplimentary names she still thought applied, but fool was certainly not among them.

“If I’m to remain, however, I’ll need my own chamber,” she added.

“No,” Egan replied, much too swiftly. “It will be better for us both if everyone believes you are my mistress.”

Deeply insulted, Oriana drew back slightly. “It matters not at all what others may assume, but I’ll never be your mistress, Egan. I absolutely refuse that high honor.”

Egan yanked his hand from hers and rose to his feet. A disdainful sneer tugged at the corner of his mouth. “With my father’s body barely cold, do you actually believe I’d seek to lose myself in you?”

He looked thoroughly disgusted with her, but Oriana rose gracefully to face him. “Perhaps not tonight nor on the morrow, but the time may soon come when the prospect will hold more appeal, and then I’ll have to take my leave. You must agree to that condition now.”

Egan’s scowl deepened. “And must I again remind you not to give me orders? You’re the one who can see the future, but to crave your affection I would have to forget that I was off chasing you while my father lay dying. That day will never arrive, but perhaps you would rather I pay you now than wait for me to be overcome with lust?”

Oriana was as offended by the reference to pay as she was to that of lust, and shook her head. “I didn’t ask to be paid for my help, Egan. I asked only that you slay Duncan.”

Egan waved her off. “Do not speak his name again. Now come to bed.”

Oriana’s eyes widened as he reached for his belt. “Surely you do not intend to sleep nude.”

“We’re no longer traveling, Oriana. We’re home, and the king may sleep in whatever manner he chooses. Sleep in your gown if you must. Tomorrow I’ll have Ula’s seamstresses begin fashioning your new wardrobe. The king’s mistress ought to own far finer garments than you possess. Your worn and patched rags are an embarrassment.”

“My gowns are not rags!” Oriana contradicted through clenched teeth. She would not argue that her garments were comfortably worn, but none could rightfully be described as ragged.

Egan shot her a dark glance before he spit on his fingers and snuffed the candles. The last embers of the fire lent his finely sculpted profile a soft glow. “Rags,” he repeated scornfully. “You’ll burn the lot as soon as the new gowns are ready.”

“No. I think not,” Oriana replied proudly. “I’ll have a long walk home, and wouldn’t want the dust of the trail to ruin the fine gowns you’ve so thoughtfully provided.”

Egan sat down to remove his shoes, then stood to shuck off his tight-fitting trousers. He slipped beneath the furs and stretched out. “You’ll take Brute with you and ride.”

Oriana had no affection for the big brown horse, and briefly considered refusing him, but then decided she could sell him in the first village she entered. She was briefly cheered by that prospect, but it failed to ease her fear of sharing Egan’s inviting fur-heaped bed.

The sense of evil in his home gave her chills, but as she stood stiffly at the foot of the handsome man’s bed, she was at last struck by the threat he posed to her emotions. Recoiling at that dizzying truth, she hastened toward the chair to take in the lingering warmth of the hearth while she considered the great lack of wisdom in their latest bargain.

Her reluctance elicited a low, taunting laugh from Egan as Oriana’s lithe presence began to ignite the very passion he had sworn she would never arouse.

Chapter Five

Early the next morning, Ula burst into Egan’s chamber without bothering to knock. She swept across the threshold with the force of a fierce storm off the sea and began to swear in a vicious hiss. “Get off the bed, you lazy slut. Egan demands that you be dressed in our softest wools and finest linens, but I refuse to grant you even a frayed handkerchief of my own.”

Abruptly awakened by the harsh clang of the heavy door’s iron handle against the stone wall, Oriana was as shocked to find herself in Egan’s wide bed as she was by Ula’s rude greeting. Because she would never have sought the comfort of his muscular arms on her own, she was certain he must have plucked her from the chair after she had fallen into an exhausted slumber. That he would so blatantly disregard her wishes was annoying in the extreme, but for the moment, her uninvited visitor presented a far more vexing problem.

Striving to appear dazed, Oriana peaked through her tousled curls for a glimpse of the petite woman she assumed must be Ula. The diminutive beauty’s furious scowl narrowed her dark eyes, but scarcely diminished her exotic appeal. That in her youth she could have charmed Egan’s father, or any man, was easy to imagine.

Oriana had failed to give Egan’s stepmother any thought, and she now required a moment to decide upon her best course of action. One option was to act so docile that Ula would dismiss her as being of little consequence. She and her mother had been so adept at escaping notice, they could vanish into a crowd at will. Since her mother’s departure, Oriana had refined that art, and she could now walk through a small village without arousing a ripple of curiosity.

“Are you mute as well as stupid?” Ula chided before taking up a poker to jab angrily at the thick log burning brightly on the hearth. After creating a brilliant shower of sparks, she dropped the iron implement with a noisy clatter.

Thinking Egan must have added fresh wood before leaving his chamber, Oriana accepted the gesture as a sign of concern for her comfort. He was a perplexing man, but not one who would be drawn to a woman lacking in spirit. With that thought in mind, she quickly shoved aside the fur robes and rose to face Ula.

“If anyone is stupid here, it is you, madam,” Oriana responded with clear distaste as she proudly drew herself up to a regal height. She knew from experience that she possessed a disconcerting gaze and deliberately turned the full force of its brilliance upon Ula.

“I had been led to believe that you would be in deep mourning,” Oriana continued with a dismissive sweep of Ula’s bright green gown and flowing black hair, “but obviously I was misinformed.”

Ula had expected some silly wench Egan had snatched from the roadside, not this defiant flame-haired creature who would be impossible to either control or banish. The shock gave her a moment’s pause, but she quickly recovered.

“I will grieve for my dear Cadell forever,” she breathed out, “but I will never welcome his son’s whore.”

“It is now Egan’s home,” Oriana reminded her with a taunting smile, “and you may swiftly find that you are the one who is unwelcome here.”

“How dare you?” Ula shrieked, and she lunged to claw Oriana with a vicious swipe.

With her much longer reach, Oriana easily caught Ula’s wrist before the irate woman’s nails grazed her cheek. Then with a sharp twist to her arm, she propelled the venomous widow toward the open doorway and released her with a shove.

“Do not disturb me ever again,” Oriana ordered darkly, and promptly swung the massive door closed.

“What a distasteful episode,” she murmured under her breath.

She brushed her hands as she turned away from the door, and having no intention of cowering in Egan’s chamber, grabbed her bag to choose clothing. Only her comb and the ornate pouch containing her collection of unusual stones tumbled out. Spilling from its container, the new amethyst glowed in the fire’s leaping light, but Oriana was far too enraged to appreciate the stone’s rare beauty.

That Egan would steal her clothes, and then order his hateful stepmother to fashion a new wardrobe for her was unforgivable. Before she could finish cursing him, however, there was a perfunctory knock at the door and in he strode.

Seizing the moment, Oriana shook her now empty travel bag at him. “What have you done with my garments?”

Egan widened his stance and rested his hands on his hips. He had bathed, shaved, and dressed in a fresh tunic and trousers that morning, but the improvement in his appearance failed to extend to his mood. He regarded Oriana’s sleep-creased gown with a scowl.

“I’ll not repeat what I think of your drab wardrobe, but you needn’t fret that I burned it. Instead, I gave the whole lot to Ula’s seamstresses to cut apart for patterns. That will guarantee a superb fit to their creations.”

Thoroughly exasperated by the man’s unending arrogance, Oriana chucked the amethyst back into its pouch, then shoved the smaller bag into her travel satchel and flung it upon the bed. Anxious to make him understand how wrong he’d been, she gestured with quick jabs as she began to pace with a long, restless stride.

“Do you expect me to thank you for disregarding my wishes not once, but twice? I had no desire to share your bed last night, nor to wear whatever clothing Ula’s seamstresses might create. As for Ula, after the wretched scene she just created here, she’ll undoubtedly forbid her seamstresses from sewing a single stitch for me.”

Caught off guard, Egan took a hesitant step toward her. “Ula has already paid you a visit?”

Chilled by the memory of their encounter, Oriana grabbed a fur from the bed and draped it around her shoulders. “Only long enough to call me a lazy, stupid slut. I threw her out.”

Oriana’s glorious curls were a tangled mess and her gown a pleated web of wrinkles. Barefoot, she could not have looked more pitiful, but she still moved with a dancer’s grace, and Egan fought to maintain a deliberate scowl to mask the admiration in his gaze.

“I did not anticipate the two of you ever becoming friends,” he confessed crossly, “but this is most unfortunate, indeed.” He grabbed the chamber’s single chair, swung it around to face Oriana, and then settled down with his back to the fire. “Perhaps the fault is mine.”

The softening in his tone surprised Oriana; she would have preferred him to remain hostile and aloof. Too anxious to follow his example and sit, she continued to pace. “Did you actually describe me to her in such coarse and uncomplimentary terms?” she challenged.

“No, of course not. I said only that I’d brought home a woman who was in need of a new wardrobe, which I expected to be fashioned from our finest fabrics and lace.”

“Which was totally unnecessary,” Oriana admonished. “I may have asked to remain here a few days, but now I would prefer to take my leave. I’ll wear your cast-off garments if I must, but the prospect of remaining here another hour is intolerable.”

Egan sat back to observe her with an incredulous stare. “You’d look ridiculous in one of my tunics. It would drag on the ground.”

“I’ll cut it off,” Oriana replied. Her shoes lay where she’d left them near the hearth, and she bent to retrieve them. “Anything old and ragged will do. After all, according to you, it’s what I’m accustomed to wearing.”

Oriana had carelessly strayed close, and Egan caught her hand and pulled her down across his lap where, thoroughly flustered, she struggled against his confining grasp. “Sit still,” he ordered, and then strengthened his hold until she complied.

“I still have need of your talents,” he scolded. “I didn’t expect you to meet Ula this soon, but other than an instant and obviously hearty dislike, what do you make of her?”

Trapped upon his tautly muscled thighs, Oriana was far too aware of Egan to consider anything else. She dared not rest her head against the smoothness of his cheek, nor gaze into his hazy blue eyes. She wondered how often had he yanked her against him. She had lost count of the times he had pressed her close to his chest on one ridiculous pretext or another, but until last night, she had merely rebelled at being confined, rather than tortured by his touch.

She breathed deeply to focus her thoughts elsewhere and instantly regretted the error, for he smelled of deliciously spiced soap, subtle aroma of which made her yearn to draw closer still. She held her breath to fight that traitorous impulse, but after a long moment released a tormented sigh.

He had asked about his stepmother, but there was more than animosity to her reaction. Poison was a woman’s weapon, and meeting the haughty Ula had strengthened her suspicion that Cadell had been murdered. She remaining unwilling, however, to endanger Egan’s life by sharing such a dangerous insight. Instead, as she so often did with strangers, she related only a portion of the truth.

“Ula is precisely what you know her to be,” Oriana began with deliberate care, “a woman who delights in entrancing men. She still has the beauty to achieve her desires now, but as time gradually fades her allure, she will lead an increasingly bitter existence. But you already knew there’s nothing about the woman to admire.”

Clearly ill at ease, Oriana was perched stiffly upon his knee, and yet Egan found her presence an unexpected comfort. He raised a hand to stroke her hair, and when she seemed not to notice, he coiled a long curl around his hand. What he felt then was a longing so intense he was immediately shocked to his senses. He quickly dropped his hands to Oriana’s slender waist and with a trembling grasp set her on her feet. Egan rose to cover his dismay and shoved the thickly padded chair back into its customary place.

“As always, your observation is correct,” he said brusquely, “but you must take care not to cross Ula again. She may already be plotting a means to disgrace you.”

Oriana’s brittle laugh discounted the significance of that threat. “I have no reputation to lose, other than as a woman with a view into the future. Because we’ve chosen not to reveal my talent, how can Ula possibly besmirch it?”

“Do not trifle with her,” Egan emphasized with a menacing glare. “Nor with me either,” he added darkly. “Now, I promise to provide you with adequate garments, and women’s garments at that, by the evening meal. I want you to meet my brother, and because he’ll wisely not trouble you by coming here, it will be your first such opportunity.”

Totally dissatisfied with their latest exchange, Oriana rocked back on her heels. “I shall look forward to it with eager anticipation.”

Her sarcasm stung, and Egan paused for a moment in search of an equally cutting reply. He watched Oriana draw in a breath in anticipation of a vicious insult, and the enchanting swell of her bosom, even beneath her colorless, wrinkled gown, so clouded his mind, he was forced to show his displeasure simply by slamming the door on his way out.

Though jolted by the noise, Oriana was enormously relieved by Egan’s hurried exit, but she remained frozen in place until she was certain he would not return. It was now difficult for her to believe that only last night he had been sickened by the sight of her. She should have taken advantage of the opportunity to flee, even in the thick fog.

Feeling trapped, she crossed to the falcon tapestry and pulled it back to reveal three tall, narrow windows overlooking the sea. As she drank in the tangy air, the sun caught the constantly shifting waves with a near blinding sparkle, and the cloudless sky beckoned invitingly.

It was a haunting reminder that she was a creature of the forest and belonged outdoors on this beautiful morning. Egan had not forbidden her to leave his chamber, but she doubted it had even occurred to him that she might want to venture out into the countryside.

Disgusted to have nothing more than a single wrinkled gown in which to explore, she turned a curious gaze upon Egan’s carved chests. Believing they must contain at least one serviceable cloak, she took a tentative step toward them, but a soft knock at the door brought her to a guilty halt.

“I’ve brought you fresh clothing, my lady,” Myrna called out, and after shifting the bundle, she pushed the door ajar and peered in.

“Yes, do come in,” Oriana encouraged, and she rushed forward to receive the tiny servant’s burden.

When she unrolled it upon the bed, she found a deep green woolen cloak, three linen shifts, and two whisper-soft gowns with matching sleeveless tunics, one in a lovely shade of amethyst and the other an appealing blue-violet. She shook them out and held them up to judge the length. As near as she could tell, the costly garments appeared to be a perfect fit.

“Oh, Myrna, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Clearly they aren’t Ula’s. Who’s lent them to me? I must thank her.”

Myrna held her hands tightly folded at her waist and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “There’s no one to thank, my lady. They belonged to Egan’s dear mother.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t borrow her clothes,” Oriana exclaimed, but they held such an enticing lavender scent, she could not bear to refold them.

Myrna shook her head. “She’s had no need for them in many a year, my lady. You have the same glorious red hair, and they’ll look splendid on you.”

Sorely tempted, Oriana still held back. “Won’t Egan forbid it?” she asked.

“Adelaine died when he was quite small,” Myrna confided wistfully. “He’ll not recognize her gowns, nor will anyone else. I am the only one left here who loved her.”

Oriana still weighed the wisdom of wearing Adelaine’s clothing, but it felt so soft and light in her arms, she hated to refuse. “If Egan should inquire, I’ll have to tell him the truth,” she worried aloud.

Myrna raised rough hands in a dismissive wave. “I tended him when he was a babe; he doesn’t frighten me now.”

“He was a handsome lad, wasn’t he?” Oriana asked without thinking.

“Oh my, yes,” Myrna assured her with a knowing smile. “It’s high time he was wed and making beautiful babes of his own.”

The impropriety of the little servant’s opinion brought a deep blush to Oriana’s cheeks, and she quickly ushered Myrna from the room. This time she took care to slide the bolt to prevent any further interruptions while she bathed and dressed.

There was a kettle of water warming by the hearth, and she used it to wash away all traces of the night. She combed her hair and pulled on a linen shift, followed by Adelaine’s blue-violet gown and matching tunic. The clothes were much too fine for a stroll along the shore, but she rolled up her own gown and stuffed it into her travel bag.

Oriana set her sole piece of luggage out of the way behind Egan’s trunks and left the confining chamber at a near run. At the end of the wide hall, she swung toward the coiling stairwell, but the passageway was blocked by a tall Druid whose hooded cloak shaded his eyes.

Her chest tightened in fear. Her mother had insisted his kind would be so jealous of her ability to foretell the future that they would plot her death rather than allow her to usurp their power. She had never stood this close to a Druid and, terrified, she tried to escape him.

“Excuse me, please,” she offered with a polite curtsy, her gaze lowered demurely. But rather than step aside to allow her to pass, the Druid moved closer still.

“So,” he breathed out slowly, his voice deep and grating, “Egan has finally found an amusing companion.”

He reached out and cupped Oriana’s chin to lift her face toward the torch burning in the adjacent sconce, and then scrutinized her with a narrowed gaze. His eyes were as dark as his cloak and filled with impatience when he discovered no flaws in either her delicate features or creamy smooth complexion.

“I am Garrick,” he finally murmured, “and like Egan, utterly awed by your beauty.”

It was a mocking taunt rather than a compliment, but Oriana had expected as much. She continued to avert her gaze but promptly brushed his hand aside. Egan had mentioned Druids, but with the same lack of forethought she had shown regarding his stepmother, she had failed to devise an effective strategy to avoid them. Still, she would have disliked this menacing individual regardless of his calling.

When he slanted her a mocking glance, his hood slipped back to reveal thick silver hair that contrasted sharply with his black brows and lashes. He was handsome in a coldly chiseled way. Indeed, there was not a hint of warmth in him as he continued to block her way with a forbidding frown.

She had no wish to see into his future and absolutely no faith that he could perceive hers. Desperate to elude him, she coiled a finger in a curl at her temple and swayed coyly as though she were incapable of any but the most flirtatious thoughts.

“You flatter me,” she purred seductively, and when he responded with an amused chuckle, she flattened herself against the wall and finally succeeded in slipping past him.

Oriana raised her gown above her ankles and flew down the stairs with a light step, but the echo of Garrick’s discordant laughter pursued her through the steep stairwell. The eerie sound fed her desperation to escape the chill fortress, and even after bursting out into the sunlight, she kept running.

Egan returned to his chamber in the early afternoon. Rather than focus on his own misery, he had prowled the fortress and contemplated the chaos his father’s sudden death had created in their clan. His father had schooled him well and there was no aspect of the duties he had suddenly been forced to assume that he could not manage at least passably well, but he was not eager to shoulder such a heavy burden of responsibility.

He was confident he could keep their enemies at bay, but he would also be expected to handle all manner of arguments within the clans, some serious and others merely tedious. His father had been praised for the fair manner in which he had settled disputes, but Egan knew he lacked Cadell’s patience and keen ear for the details that revealed the truth. Cadell had been wise even in his youth, but Egan feared he was more warrior than sage and would be sorely tempted to settle even trivial arguments with his sword.

“At least I’m wise enough to recognize my limitations,” he muttered as he approached his chamber. He was also clever enough to realize just how useful a maiden who could divine the future would surely be. Because her counsel would prove so enormously valuable, he forced a pleasant smile before rapping lightly at his door.

When Oriana failed to offer a polite summons, he regarded the effort to feign a good mood as wasted and shoved the door open. “This is my own chamber,” he announced proudly. “If I can remember to knock, you should deign to respond.”

He turned in a slow circle to confront the continually perplexing young woman, then felt exceedingly foolish when he discovered he was alone. A swift glance revealed no trace of his guest, but lacking a change of clothes, he could not imagine where she might have strayed, unless— “No!” he shouted, and suddenly certain Oriana had made good on her threat to borrow his clothing and again lose herself in the forest, he ran from his chamber and down the circular staircase at a pace even swifter than hers had been.

After the terrible encounter in the fortress, Oriana had sought a comforting view of the sea and had lingered for hours perched upon a moss-cushioned bluff below the castle. Manannan was the god of the sea, and she wondered if perhaps he had led her there. The Otherworld could be entered not merely through lakes, but also though mists, although she had felt no magic in yesterday’s forbidding fog.

“Did you call me here, Manannan?” she cried into the salty breeze. Are the Druids merely a necessary risk as I near the sea and my destiny? she pondered. She had always expected her husband to appear in an emerald forest as her father had, but perhaps Lugh had other plans for her.

“I do wish you’d hurry,” she said aloud, not voicing her true fears.

She and her mother had not mixed with the common folk, so there had been scant need for frequent admonitions to guard her virtue, woman’s greatest treasure. Indeed, she had understood the demand for purity in a bride without her mother having to belabor the issue, for no god would claim a wife who had known earthly passion.

For that reason, Egan posed a damning threat—not merely to her virtue, but to the future she had been raised to claim. She hugged her knees tightly and tried to imagine the magnificent god who would surely soon come for her. She had seen nineteen summers rather than the seventeen Egan had guessed, and was already past the age when most young women were safely wed. Time mattered little to the gods, but she hoped her future husband would not tarry much longer and then refuse her in favor of a younger lass.

“I lack your faith, Mother,” she admitted softly. Instead of the god she had been raised to expect, it was a handsome mortal who fired her longings. Her tears blurred the soothing view of the sea. When she first heard Egan calling her name, she blamed the sound on her imagination until he drew alarmingly near.

She rose then and wiped the moisture from her lashes to hide her sorrow. Turning shy, she smoothed the soft folds of her borrowed tunic over her gown. She wished she could confide how badly Garrick had frightened her, but fearing Egan would use that very fear against her, she posed an innocent greeting. “You have some need of me, my lord?”

Egan had torn into the stable ready to ride Raven bareback to overtake her, but when he had found Brute still in his stall, he had taken the time to inquire if any of the guardsmen has seen his lady. Calling her such had nearly choked him, but he had swiftly learned that she was nearby.

“How dare you leave the fortress without my permission? Indeed, how dare you even leave my chamber?”

He was furiously angry and gesturing so wildly that Oriana feared he might strike her purely by accident. She took a prudent step backward before issuing a hushed reply, “How foolish of me; I failed to realize I was your prisoner.”

The cheeky wench was mocking him, which Egan was positive he had warned her not to do. He had expected her to stay put, but it was clear to him now that she would never do the expected, unless, of course, it suited her. He raked her with an accusing glance, and, finally noting her beautiful garments, felt a sudden jolt of recognition.

He turned toward the sea to shut out the image but it stubbornly lingered on the edge of his memory and gradually cleared. Years ago he had been there, on that same exact spot with the beautiful woman who had owned the lovely blue-violet gown. Her golden-red hair had also been tousled by the breeze coming off the sea, but her gaze had been loving rather than coldly defiant.

“That’s my mother’s gown,” he spit out between clenched teeth.

Oriana was badly disappointed that he had not hotly denied that she was his prisoner and hoped it was not merely a ploy to distract her. Because he had already been angry before he had noticed her clothing, she graciously accepted his change of subject rather than push him into a blind fury.

“I warned Myrna that you’d be offended, but she swore you’d not recognize your mother’s things. Obviously she was mistaken. I will change at once.” She raised the softly flowing gown above the toes of her own scuffed slippers to make her way up to the fortress, but Egan reached out to stop her.

“Who are you?” he asked hoarsely.

The anger had left his expression, but in Oriana’s view, narrow-eyed suspicion was no improvement. His fingers tightened on her arm, but she remained relaxed. “You know more than anyone else. I am Oriana, daughter of Lugh.”

“But your mother’s people, you truly know nothing of them?” he persisted.

“My mother had many suitors, so her family must have been powerful and wealthy. She was also good and kind, so her people must have set a fine example. Knowing that, what does their name or clan matter?”

It mattered greatly to Egan, but he knew he was a fool without hearing the whispered condemnation, and he hurriedly released her to yank his tunic off over his head. He bent to unlace his boots and flung the first one aside.

Refusing to fear the absolute worst, Oriana stood her ground. “What are you doing?” she asked, and quickly ducked the second flying boot.

“There’s time for a swim before the mists descend. Would you care to join me?” He stood and loosened his leather belt, but his harsh expression wasn’t inviting.

Offended that he would take such blatant liberties in front of her, Oriana fully intended to turn her back on him and return to his stifling chamber, where she sincerely doubted she would find the garments he had promised. Unfortunately, her feet refused to carry her away, and she swayed slightly as he hooked his thumbs in his waistband.

His skin was a pale bronze, and his body so handsomely muscled she could not bear to turn away. If the gods had sent Egan to tempt her, she feared she was rapidly failing their test. She had never been weak, had always been steadfast in the belief in her destiny. She had never met Egan’s equal, however, and she suddenly feared he must have inquired about her people for a reason.

He was a king, after all, a man who must wed to create or strengthen an alliance with an equally powerful family, and she was a wanderer dressed in a dead woman’s clothes. It was a sobering thought, but still she could not leave him.

In her travels, she had glimpsed a small boy or two running naked, so she understood how males were created. She was nonchalant as Egan stripped off his trousers, then realized there was a great difference between little boys and grown men. Her glance circled the dark curls framing the heavy weight of his manhood before trailing up the hard plane of his belly to his face.

A compliment seemed to be in order, and she supplied the first that came to mind. “It seems you have good reason to be such a proud man, Egan.”

That she could be so boldly admiring and yet insultingly flippant astonished him. His first impulse was to push her down on the ground and take her right there. He didn’t care if every guard in the fortress was hanging over the wall to watch.

He had never wanted another woman as he did this sharp-tongued prophetess who haunted his every thought. Oh, how he wanted her! He wanted her hot and angry and coiled around him like a snake. He wanted her to writhe, scream, and claw his back.

That only last night he had sworn she was the last woman he would never want struck him as ludicrous now, but as he began to grow hard, he turned toward the path while he still had the strength to leave. Egan was ashamed to want her so badly, and yet he longed to make her a willing captive, not a prisoner who would refuse to issue the warnings he desperately needed to hear. He cursed all the way down the rocky trail to the sea, but the frigid water chilled only his body and left the fire in his soul undimmed.

Oriana was uncertain just what had transpired between them, but she was deeply grateful Egan had pursued his interest in swimming rather than her. She knew he would be a strong swimmer, but she did not trust Manannan not to have a little sport with him.

That possibility terrified her even more than Garrick’s horrid laugh, and she watched from the bluff to make certain he returned safely to dry land. Then, ashamed she had not had the good sense to flee when he had first removed his tunic, she hurried back to the fortress, where the evening promised to provide exquisite terrors of its own.

Chapter Six

Ula clenched her fists and shrieked, “Make her disappear this very night!”

Garrick nodded as though he were in complete agreement, then crossed his arms and slid his hands into his flowing sleeves. “While I could spirit the wench out of the fortress, I doubt the effort would prove worthwhile, my lady. She’s nothing more than a comely peasant. Egan will swiftly tire of her.”

Ula grabbed a small ceramic pot filled with perfumed oil and hurled it across her chamber, where it burst against the stone wall in a fragrant, dripping splatter. “No mere peasant would have dared to threaten me. The slut’s dangerous, and like a tenacious weed, must be ripped from our soil.”

As Garrick stepped soundlessly toward the hearth, his elongated shadow brushed across the chamber’s high ceiling in an eerie dance. The Druid was careful not to stray too close to the leaping flames, and while he enjoyed watching the shifting colors, he dipped his head to feign a contemplative mood. Unwilling to engage in senseless debate, he allowed Ula to spew her vicious insults until she at last fell into an exhausted silence. He then turned to face her, his expression filled with sympathetic concern.

“Rather than protest so violently, my lady, you would be wise to encourage Egan’s infatuation with the girl. After all, as long as Egan is so conveniently distracted, Kieran will be able to amass support unopposed. He may well be named king of the Dál Cais before Egan even suspects there might be a challenge.”

“Aye, I understand,” she said, still fuming. “As always, your counsel proves invaluable, and I’ll endeavor to turn the willful chit’s presence to our own advantage. But how shall I tolerate dining with her this evening? Perhaps simply ignoring her would be best.”

Garrick bowed deeply from the waist. “It will be the perfect strategy, my lady. She will grow increasingly uncomfortable, beg to retire early, and Egan will pursue her with the speed of a rutting stag.”

Highly amused by that ludicrous image, Ula raised her tiny hands to muffle riotous peals of laughter, and Garrick departed wearing a satisfied smile of his own.

The new sleeveless tunics and gowns Oriana found draped upon Egan’s bed were fashioned of as superb a woolen fabric as those borrowed from Egan’s mother. She raised the splendid cloth to her cheek and snuggled it gently. The garments had been sewn with delicate, nearly invisible stitches, making them a joy to behold. They were lovely and would surely be a perfect fit.

They were cut from cloth of a muted grayish brown. Oriana sat down and folded her new clothes across her lap. Clearly Egan’s orders had been followed with respect to fine fabrics. That the color was more suited to a man’s trousers than a woman’s gown was surely of no consequence, and yet she suspected the cheerless hue had been purposely chosen to dim rather than complement her vibrant coloring.

She wondered if Ula had hoped she would be so insulted by the drab garments that she would remain ensconced in Egan’s chamber rather than join the others for the evening meal. If so, the haughty woman would be sadly disappointed, because there was an advantage to owning garments whose color easily melted into the shadows, and Oriana knew it well.

Still, after wearing Adelaine’s colorful blue-violet gown, she could not help but wish for something equally pretty. Vanity was inexcusable, of course, and it was doubly foolish when in her travels bright colors would draw attention and be all too easily remembered.

Her shoulders slipped into a dejected slump as she wondered how long Egan would remember her. After the shocking scene out on the bluff, it would certainly be impossible to forget him. No, she chided herself, had she never seen him in anything less revealing than a Druid’s voluminous cloak, she would always remember him.

The unsuitability of that indelible memory left her drained of hope and feeling utterly lost. She found it impossible to summon the enthusiasm to dress for the evening and remained clad in Adelaine’s gown. Not relishing another of their apparently endless confrontations, she hoped when Egan finally did appear, he would be too preoccupied to comment on her wardrobe.

After ripping off his clothes in front of Oriana, Egan had spent the remainder of the afternoon cursing himself as twice the fool the disembodied voice had called him. What could have possessed him to behave in such an insufferably arrogant manner? Oriana’s presence had become a deep and painful torture, but he knew he should have behaved with more courtesy and far more dignity than he had exhibited that day.

When the onset of Mount Royal’s damp fog forced him to return to his chamber, he drew a deep breath before pausing to knock. Oriana promptly invited him to enter, but when he found her absently fondling garments whose color was more suitable for a goat herd than a fine lady, he lost his temper anew.

“I’ll not have you wearing those ugly gowns. Not today, not ever. Instead you’ll dress in my mother’s gowns until some more flattering garments are finally fashioned for you.”

Oriana sighed wistfully. “While somber, there’s nothing wrong with these gowns.” She continued to caress them fondly. “Brown is an excellent choice for travel, and that’s all I do.”

Despite her insistent objection, Egan’s decision was firmly made, and he pointed out a more obvious problem. “When you have no permanent home, how is a god to take you for a wife? Will you lead him on a merry chase through the forest as you did me?”

Oriana attempted to recall if they’d ever had what could be described as an amicable conversation, but sadly, no such example came to mind. “You ought not to blame me for your trouble when I had no idea you were giving pursuit; but surely a god will find me more easily,” she replied, but her tone lacked conviction.

“Aye, I suppose.” Egan went to close the door he had left standing ajar, but assuring their privacy made offering an apology no less difficult. That Oriana continually provoked him was her fault rather than his, but he cleared his throat and tried not to sound gruff.

“You are a lady and gently raised,” he began, trying to ease his way. “I should not have shed my garments in your presence. It was not the act of a champion, and I’ve given my word to be yours.”

He appeared to be sincerely contrite. Oriana was completely taken aback, but she dared not admit she had been more incredulous than insulted. He was such an audacious man. From the moment he had forced his way into her tent, he had proven impossible to guide in any pleasing direction. No, indeed, he simply issued demands and expected obedience as though he were already king. To her everlasting shame, she still found him appealing.

“You were angry not to find me here,” she reminded him.

“Aye, that is true, but I had no right to that anger when anyone would prefer a view of the sea to this bleak chamber. Go wherever you please, but you may not leave me just yet.”

“Not while I am still useful,” Oriana amended. She watched a swift return of his earlier anger shade his glance and after silently cursing her own obstinate nature, spoke quietly to deflect his often bitter wit.

“I’m concerned about something Myrna told me. She claimed to be the last here who loved your mother. Were you aware the others have no memory of her?”

Egan had been about to shout he would be the one to decide just who and what was useful, and caught off guard, he folded his hands behind his back. After glancing down at the floor, he rearranged the carpet of rushes with his toe and wished Oriana were half as compliant.

“I’ve given the matter no thought whatsoever. I’m a grown man with no need for either a mother or nurse.”

Oriana fought to remain calm, but Egan was often so dreadfully shortsighted it was extremely difficult to display the necessary patience. “Every king depends upon allies, and if you’re to rule the Dál Cais successfully, then you’ll need the backing of your mother’s people.”

Annoyed with her logic, Egan strode toward the hearth. A log had been propped across the firedogs in preparation for the evening, and he gave it a rough kick to roll it over the glowing embers. “My mother’s kin are a proud family, but weakened by losses in battle. Consequently, they look to me for protection. It matters little; I depend upon no one.”

No one but me, Oriana thought to herself, and she wondered if her most valuable service might not be in making Egan see the error in his solitary ways. Once that feat was accomplished, if it were even possible, she would feel free to leave him. A sharp burst of pain greeted the prospect of that sorry triumph, and she bit her lip to stay the threat of tears.

Dipping her head, she smoothed her fingertips over the seductively soft new garments and longed for Egan’s heat. She would have to leave him one day, and although painful, now was the best time to begin pulling away.

“No matter how small,” she murmured, “a warm alcove meant for a servant will do, but I must have my own chamber.”

“No!” Egan thundered back at her. “I’m not nearly that remorseful over this afternoon. I promise not to sleep naked as I did last night, but you’ll remain here with me.

“As for those hideous gowns, save them for the travel you’re so eager to begin and dress tonight for me.” He crossed to the neatly stacked trunks and opened a small chest at the top. “Here, you need more than a single gold bracelet, my lady.”

Oriana ducked as he flung a gold torque in her direction, but the magnificent coiled collar still landed in her lap. She had never seen anything nearly as beautiful, but she was loath to touch it. It was an ornament designed for a queen, while she preferred weaving flowers into crowns.

“Oh, Egan, I can’t wear this.”

“You can and will. I want everyone to believe I’m so besotted with you that I’ll be deaf to their lies. That will be easy enough, but can you possibly feign some slight interest in me?”

Her heart beating wildly in her breast, Oriana scarcely dared look up at him. He was so close, she could have reached out to caress his thigh, but thus inspired, grabbed up the torque instead.

“Is pretend to be equally smitten what you really mean?” she asked.

“Aye, smitten will do. Can you give me that?”

Oriana traced the gentle curve of the golden torque. With every fortune she told, she gave a subtle performance, but none was really required with him. She licked her lips thoughtfully. “I have already promised not to embarrass you in front of your kin. I will regard whatever devotion I might show as an extension of that vow.”

Though that was not as straightforward a consent as Egan would have preferred, he decided he had finally won one of their arguments and departed to allow her the privacy in which to dress for a meal he doubted either would taste.

Oriana clung to Egan’s arm as they entered the great hall, but it was fright rather than feigned affection that prompted her to draw close. A massive stone fireplace dominated the far end of the long rectangular room, and the evening meal was being served on low tables surrounded by cushions of furs. There was only a small gathering tonight rather than the hundreds the room could accommodate for a feast, but Oriana felt more dread than curiosity about what the evening would bring.

“You’re shaking,” Egan whispered. He patted her hand tenderly. “You’ll not be cold seated close to the fire.”

Allowing him to believe she was merely chilled rather than nearly paralyzed with fear, Oriana glided along by his side. She had donned Adelaine’s amethyst gown and tunic, but had waited for Egan to assist her with the golden torque. A simple twist was all that had been required to secure the magnificent necklace, but it rested upon her collarbones with the weight of a captive’s chains.

She held her head high, and with her long hair streaming over her shoulders, moved with forced grace toward the group already seated near the fire. A young bard strumming a lyre began a new tune as she and Egan approached, but it was more discordant than welcoming.

A dark-eyed young man with a rakish smile rose to greet them. Tall and handsome, he could have been Egan’s twin except for the difference in their eyes. “Come, Egan,” he encouraged, “draw close. I wish to meet your lady.”

Rather than comply, Egan chose places as far from his half brother and stepmother as the narrow table permitted. He saw to Oriana’s comfort before responding to his brother’s greeting. “Kieran is an impetuous sort, but I have no doubt that you’ll forgive him, Oriana.”

What Oriana could not forgive, however, was Egan’s continual description of his younger brother in such uncomplimentary terms. Since they resembled each other, and surely their father, so closely, it seemed unlikely that there would be much of the despicable Ula in the young man.

“When Kieran reminds me so much of you, my darling,” Oriana responded in a honeyed purr, “I shall be able to forgive him anything.” She bowed her head demurely and fluttered her thick lashes as she peered up at Kieran.

Believing Oriana had completely misunderstood how she was to play her part, Egan sank down beside her and drew her into a possessive hug. He buried his face in her hair and whispered in her ear. “You must flirt with me, not him!”

Leaning into him, Oriana rested her hands lightly on his arm and giggled softly. “You mustn’t say such naughty things here. What will your dear brother think of us?”

Surprised Oriana would be so bold, Kieran glanced down at his mother’s narrowed gaze, and understood precisely why she disliked her. The flame-haired beauty was so intent upon Egan that she had not even acknowledged Ula’s presence, which he considered rude in the extreme. He gestured toward her now.

“My mother and I wish to extend a warm welcome.”

Egan released Oriana and scolded his brother, “That is my honor, not yours, and we’ll all find more enjoyment in the meal if you keep your misguided thoughts to yourself.”

Rather than return to his seat, a deeply insulted Kieran moved toward the fire, but not before Oriana had glimpsed the rage darkening his expression. She doubted Egan ever spoke a civil word to his half brother and she felt sorry for both men.

“You did not care for my seamstress’s finest work?” Ula observed pointedly.

“If that was their finest effort, then we need to find women possessed of more talent with a needle,” Egan announced before reaching for a flagon of wine.

“The gowns were lovely,” Oriana contradicted sweetly, “and I look forward to wearing them soon.”

Disgusted Oriana would tease him about her eagerness to leave, Egan shot her a disapproving glance. Rather than cower, however, she responded with so dazzling a smile he was left to wonder just what it was she had said. Despite her preference for the forest, she appeared to be perfectly at ease at his table—but then, she had been raised to hold lofty expectations.

Quill, the bard, began another tune about a lovely lady with golden hair. Embarrassed to be so easily distracted, Egan forced himself to glance down the table to the place where his father should have been. His appetite vanished instantly, and he filled his cup with wine and swiftly drank it down. Belatedly recalling the woman at his side, he again grabbed the flagon to fill her cup.

“I see your manners have not improved in your travels,” Ula chided. “It is a great pity that you lack your father’s grace.”

Had Oriana not caught his wrist, Egan would have flung his silver cup at his stepmother. “Father still made grave mistakes,” he taunted, and left Ula to imagine just what, or rather who, he had in mind.

Garrick had been standing in the shadows, and thinking the evening a wonderful success, he took Kieran’s elbow as he passed by and urged him back to the table. “We are all troubled,” he mused as he folded himself down upon a thick cushion beside Ula. “But we share in a common hope for a better future.”

Egan stared at the Druid, and took immediate exception to how hungrily he eyed Oriana. At the same time, he felt Oriana press close as though she shared his low opinion of the silver-haired Garrick. “No future, however fine,” he challenged, “will compensate us for the great treasure we’ve lost.”

Garrick nodded absently. “Of course, but we must begin to make plans for Samhain and the coming of winter. The whole clan will gather then and proclaim you the new king.”

The mention of the late autumn holiday forced Oriana to recall her desire for a warm cloak, and how swiftly that pursuit had led her to Egan. She glanced around the darkened hall and tried to imagine it ablaze with a hundred torches and filled with his kinsmen, all as broad-shouldered and handsome as he.

“Aye, but it will be a sad day rather than a glad one,” Egan cautioned.

“It always is,” Garrick posed. “But the old must give way to the young. It is as the gods divined.”

“My father died in his prime,” Egan nearly shouted.

“He was my father too,” Kieran interjected. “A fact you continually overlook.”

Egan did not object to sharing a father. It was Ula he could not abide.

Oriana ran her fingertips down his arm and took his hand. She did not need to study his expression to feel his rage, and yet there was something else in the room, a presence as pervasive as the smoky scent of the fire. She puzzled over it silently, then caught Ula’s lethal glance and recognized it for hatred’s rancid stench.

Apparently unaware of Ula’s mood, Garrick appeared to be preoccupied with the meal, a rich vegetable stew laced with smoked ham, which he sopped from his silver platter with hunks of barley and oat bread. Kieran was staring off into the distance, a look of thorough disgust pulling at his finely shaped mouth. Ula now sat brooding over her wine, and while Oriana had not eaten in a long while, she had to force herself to take a few bites of bread and stew.

She hoped that the rest of Egan’s powerful family were a more personable lot, but the old terror kept tugging at her conscience, and she feared the danger to Egan would continue to compound. Then with a sickening dread she began to think it odd that none of the nobles had tarried there to await his return. Surely they would have been summoned at Cadell’s death and hastened to the fortress to bury him.

“Where are your kin?” she whispered. “How could they have come and gone so swiftly?”

Egan brought his finger to his lips to encourage silence before he replied. “They use the river as well as fine horses for travel. That’s the beauty of this place and its curse for our enemies.”

Overhearing their exchange, Kieran joined in. “A man could grow old awaiting Egan’s arrival. Do not fault our kin for returning to their own homes. They will spend Samhain with us.”

That it would be the last festival before the arrival of a long, cold winter lent the feast special significance, but with Egan so unwilling to celebrate, Oriana doubted anyone else would enjoy it. Appreciating Kieran’s concern, she sent him a grateful smile and was surprised by how quickly a deep blush filled his cheeks. While it was obvious Egan barely tolerated him, she decided she liked Kieran and would continue to treat him kindly.

She caught Garrick staring at her, but Egan appeared to be in no hurry to complete the meal he had scarcely tasted, and so she remained seated quietly at his side. Directing her attention elsewhere, she gradually became aware of a gathering of Druids at another table placed off to the side. Apparently they had been so quiet she had not noticed them when she and Egan had entered, but she could not be certain the group hadn’t just taken their places.

The whole fortress was filled with shadows, but she trusted the knowing to protect her as valiantly as the champion by her side. Of course, she already knew better than to go anywhere near a Druid, and here she was seated at the same table with one.

As the meal progressed, serving maids scurried around the low table to replenish the wine, stew, bread, cheeses, and fruit. Oriana sensed their fear, for it was a palpable presence as dank as the fortress’s perpetual chill. The young women wore their hair in long braids and were dressed in gowns far finer than those in which she had arrived. They hovered near Egan and offered an assortment of treats.

Oriana saw Kieran glance their way and frown; then Garrick spoke and again caught his attention. From what Oriana overheard, they were still discussing Samhain, and the possibility of several marriages taking place at that propitious time. Recognizing none of the names of the prospective brides and grooms, she munched a bite of apple rolled in chopped walnuts.

She leaned close to Egan to whisper, “It’s plain they prefer to gossip rather than converse. To whom do you usually speak?” She regretted the question the instant it left her lips, and after resting her hand upon his sleeve, she struggled to take it back. “I’m sorry. I know it was your father.”

Egan shifted uncomfortably, then responded with a hushed comment meant solely for Oriana’s ears. “Ula speaks incessantly of nothing, and Garrick pretends to listen. Kieran is probably daydreaming about hawks and horses.”

“Are they not your interests as well?”

Egan gave a grudging nod. “Aye, but it is not enough to make me like him.”

“A man who makes enemies in his own house is surely a—” This time Oriana caught herself in time, but Egan completed the thoughtless insult for her.

“Fool? That word has been spoken too often of late,” he swore.

Egan’s stern expression did not invite further comment, and Oriana was sorry she had said anything at all. Kieran looked no less happy and was sullenly slurping up his stew. He made an occasional murmur to join in his mother’s conversation with Garrick, but even without Egan’s insight, it was plain to her Keiran wasn’t listening. He also sent frequent glances toward the empty place at the table, and Oriana saw the sorrow Egan refused to see. She thought it terribly sad the brothers could not comfort each other during a time of such tremendous loss.

“We’ve heard little from you this night, Oriana,” Garrick prompted suddenly. “Won’t you tell us something of your people and how you and Egan met?”

“She’s not here for your entertainment,” Egan cautioned. “That she is my lady is knowledge enough.”

“But Egan, we should invite her family to join us for Samhain,” Ula argued, seeking what might be a wonderful opportunity to belittle them. “If they must travel far, the invitation should be extended immediately.”

“No, there’s no need for that,” Egan replied.

Sensing something amiss, Ula immediately seized upon it. “We would be delighted to meet your kin, Oriana. To exclude them from the celebration while you are here would be a grave insult to you as well as them.”

Oriana was seated so close she could feel Egan draw in a deep breath to rebuff that demand, and she spoke first to save him the trouble. She smiled and showed the fine manners her mother had instilled.

“I am quite alone in the world, my lady, but thank you for thinking of my family. If they were able, they would surely be delighted to accept your kind invitation.”

“Surely you are not an orphan,” Kieran interjected.

“Her story is a tragic one,” Egan offered quickly. “I’ll not force her to relive it simply to satisfy your curiosity.”

Sweeping aside that objection, Garrick persisted. “Perhaps you’ll confide in us another time.”

Oriana shuddered at the malicious glint in his eye and slid her arm through Egan’s to silently beseech his protection. “My family was precious to me, my lord, and I’ll mourn them forever in my heart, but once endured, sorrow is best left unspoken.”

Clearly frustrated by her refusal, Garrick turned back to Ula and offered a quiet jest which made her laugh. Kieran appeared disgusted by that bit of levity, and after offering a hasty good night, left the hall. Barely acknowledging her son’s departure, Ula continued making plans for Samhain.

Oriana was relieved beyond words that Garrick and Ula had lost interest in her so quickly, but she suspected that she had merely been granted a temporary reprieve. If only to identify her clan, they would make subtle inquiries on the morrow, or the next day at the latest, and what could she possibly say?

Egan shook his head slightly to clear it. Then, recognizing he was well on his way to being drunk, he slowly rose to his feet and offered his hand to assist Oriana.

“The hour grows late,” he said.

Oriana had to restrain the impulse to leap to her feet and flee the hall, but managed to rise gracefully. “Thank you for your kind hospitality, my lady. I bid you a restful night.”

As if on cue, Ula burst into tears. “With my dear Cadell dead, sleep will surely elude me.”

“I will mix you a soothing sleeping potion, my lady. Come, allow me to escort you to your chamber.”

Egan waited for the pair, huddled close, to leave, then slid his arm around Oriana’s waist. He leaned down to whisper, “I’ve always suspected Garrick was Ula’s lover.”

Considering it unwise to speculate where the other Druids and solicitous servants might overhear, Oriana remained silent until they reached the winding staircase. “I doubt Ula would have dared incur your father’s wrath, but this whole fortress is alive with evil forces. I do not envy you having to rule here.”

His thoughts moving in another direction entirely, Egan was grateful flickering torchlight hid the hunger in his expression. “There are compensations,” he murmured, thinking she was most definitely among them.

Oriana was too preoccupied to catch the husky note of desire in his voice. “I may have survived my first meal here, but we should have fabricated some credible story about my background. To describe me as your mistress obviously isn’t enough. Garrick will continue to pry, wheedle, and coax, but he’ll never accept what little we told him.”

Egan stroked her hair. “You needn’t worry so. My father never relied upon Garrick as Ula does, and he has no real power here.”

“No, you’re very wrong. The Druids will fight to preserve and extend their influence, whatever the cost.”

Convinced of the truth of her words, Oriana girded herself for another bitter argument, but as she stepped out into the corridor, a Druid standing by Egan’s doorway brought her worst fears to life. He was taller than Garrick, and with his hood pulled low, even more imposing. Sighting them, he came forward with a long purposeful stride that billowed his dark cloak into ominous wings.

Oriana shrank back against Egan, but if her name had been enough to alert the Druids to the very real threat she posed, then no champion could save her. Her breath caught in her throat as the Druid reached out, and she fainted before the dark folds of his sleeves could brush her face.

Chapter Seven

Oriana awoke with a start. She was lying across Egan’s bed, and both he and the Druid were leaning over her. Each wore a mask of such tender concern that she was ashamed to have been so badly frightened.

The Druid’s cowl now rested on his shoulders. His hair was the color of ripening wheat, and his eyes were as vivid a green as the first leaves of spring. He appeared to have wandered far in his travels, for he was deeply tanned, and in his own way, as handsome a man as Egan.

“Albyn,” she whispered.

“I’m gratified that you’ve heard my name, but you must rest, my lady,” he urged. “I should not want you to faint again while Egan and I were not present to catch you.”

Relieved she had responded so promptly to the cool cloth he had dabbed at her cheeks, he leaned back and shot Egan a grin. “While I’d not thought it possible, your lady is even more lovely awake. I feared you were alone with your grief and am pleased you’ve had her comfort.”

Unable to accept that absurd assumption graciously, Egan moved back a step and straightened up. “Oriana is scarcely the type to faint.” He studied the incriminating blush flooding her cheeks and easily drew the correct conclusion. “You’re the one who frightened her so badly, Albyn, and I’ve never known you to have that affect upon women.”

With Albyn standing at the foot of the wide bed and Egan at her side, Oriana felt trapped and had to fight her earlier breath-stealing panic. “Please forgive me, Albyn. This fortress abounds with menacing shadows, and I’d not expected Egan’s dear friend to emerge from one.”

Albyn responded with a mock bow. “You are forgiven, my lady. Perhaps I should sing when I approach so that you’ll recognize me even in the dim light.”

Egan thought Albyn’s charm misplaced, but Oriana’s bashful smile tore at his heart. “I’ve heard you sing, and Oriana won’t be the only lass to faint if you begin howling through our corridors.”

“I do not howl.” Albyn was tempted to hurl the damp cloth at Egan, but at the last moment wadded it up and set it beside the pitcher of water. “You must not believe a word Egan says about me,” he warned. “He’s my closest friend, but he treats the rushes beneath his feet with more compassion.”

“Have some compassion for our ears,” Egan countered.

Oriana listened without comment as the two old friends exchanged teasing taunts. They had easily accepted her explanation for her fright, but should they delve any deeper, she was certain they would swiftly recognize its true cause. She moved to put the wall at her back, but the chill stone offered no consolation.

Egan watched her draw a fur up to her chin and assumed she must be tired. He thought he had had enough wine to deaden his pain and bring rest, but now that Albyn had arrived, he longed to confide his anguish over his father’s untimely death.

“A fire should be banked in your room. Let’s converse there so Oriana might rest,” Egan suggested.

Albyn immediately moved toward the door. “Of course. I bid you a good night, dear lady.” He paused a moment to muse aloud, “Though I’ll not sing tonight, your name does inspire music. A peasant once told me of a magical child named Oriana, whom he believed to have a gift for prophecy. That she exists is a persistent rumor, but she is more elusive than the gods, and I doubt anyone has ever actually met her.”

Oriana dug her nails into her palms. She knew Egan trusted Albyn with his life, and therefore hers, but she trusted no Druid and never would. “ ’Tis a shame such fanciful tales never prove true,” she responded wistfully.

After Albyn moved through the door, Egan paused to look back and offer a hushed good night. “Rest easy, my lady. I am still your champion.”

Oriana could only nod and hope he would keep her secret. She doubted she would catch a wink of sleep before he returned.

Growing up, Albyn had lived in a small chamber on the same corridor as Egan’s room. It was near the stairway and lacked a fine view of the sea, but as he stepped across the threshold, the years melted away and he felt at home.

“How could this have happened?” he asked. “I don’t recall Cadell ever being ill in all the years I knew him.”

“Nor do I.” Egan sat down on the end of the bed and rested his head in his hands. While he discounted what Ula had told him, he shared her words with Albyn. “I fear I might never know what really happened, but I can not bear the thought of how terribly he must have suffered while I was away.”

Pained by his friend’s torment, Albyn moved to the hearth and turned his back toward the crackling fire. He had studied with the wisest of Druids, a man who had tutored him in the vital lessons of history and claimed the future was foretold in dreams. He had also taught him the great value of listening to enhance good judgment. Albyn still had to chew the inside of his cheek to remain quiet, but he heard more than regret coloring Egan’s disbelief.

“Could something other than fate have hastened his death?” Albyn whispered.

“He had enemies; we all do,” Egan mused, “but they would have challenged him in battle.”

Growing warm, Albyn pulled off his cloak and rolled it around his arms. He laid the resulting bundle upon a low chest and widened his stance. His gray tunic and trousers were worn and did little to disguise his muscular body.

“Granted, but you must still suspect a sinister force. Whatever your decision, I’ll stand with you.”

Egan glanced up. “I’ve not known a Druid warrior. Are you to be the first?”

Uncomfortable now that the subject had shifted to him, Albyn shrugged mirthlessly. “I had such grand dreams when I left here, but I was little more than a reckless boy. I might make a talented bard despite my lack of fine voice, but I’d longed to become more.”

Intrigued, Egan rested his hand on the bed and leaned toward him. “Do you wish to interpret the law as a judge? You possess the requisite fine mind.”

Albyn weighed his words carefully, for he had kept his own counsel for so long it was now difficult to speak freely. “That I have a keen mind is precisely the problem. I believed the Druids possessed all knowledge, all wisdom, all that’s imperative to learn in life, but once I became a part of them, I found only fragments of truth. I swear you and I discovered more about the world racing our mounts against the wind than I’ve mastered in all the years since.”

Egan was stunned, for he had never challenged the beliefs Albyn had just cast aside. “But what of the secret ceremonies?”

“There are secrets,” Albyn admitted thoughtfully. “But none that revealed what I truly ache to know. It’s the future I long to see, but the silent stars, nor fleeting dreams, nor even the bloody entrails of animals sacrificed to the gods reveal anything to me.”

Growing cautious at that admission, Albyn hastened to the door and peered out. The torches along the corridor were growing dim, but no one was about. He re-closed the door, and relieved their privacy was assured, leaned back against it.

“You know what Garrick, or any other Druid, would do to me for voicing my doubts?”

Egan drew in such a deep breath his chest began to hurt. “I imagine they would inflict hideous tortures.”

“Aye, they’d begin with those.” Albyn held his breath for a moment, and then laughed at the absurd drama of life. “It’s good to be home, Egan. By all the gods, it’s good to be home.”

Egan pushed himself off the end of the bed. “I’ll say only that it’s good to have you here. We’ll not repeat this conversation to anyone,” he promised. “But if I must avenge my father’s death, I’ll command you to fight by my side. Your leaving the Druids will be my choice then, not yours, and should any man dare to raise a hand against you, he will have made an enemy of the king.”

Albyn stepped aside to allow him to pass. Not even kings dared anger the Druids, but he knew Egan was sincere. “You’ve also been blessed with a keen mind, my lord.”

Egan punched his old friend on the shoulder as he walked out. “I’ve the better voice, too. Meet me at dawn, and we’ll hunt as we once did.”

“I shall look forward to it,” Albyn promised, but as he prepared for bed in the small chamber that had been his one true home, he doubted anything could ever be as fine as those days long ago.

Egan slid his door open slowly so as not to awaken Oriana, but she was pacing in front of the fire rather than asleep on the foot of his bed or huddled uncomfortably in his chair. “You needn’t have waited up for me,” he said.

Oriana ran her fingers through the curls at her temple and shook out her hair. In truth, she had been awaiting the arrival of doom. “There is so much we must discuss,” she responded. “To begin, I had not expected to remain here until Samhain.”

“I had not expected to find my father dead.” Clearly considering the matter closed, he sat down on the bed to untie his shoes.

Oriana, however, had barely begun, and promptly dismissed his rude rebuff. “I’ll grant that is a far deeper disappointment, but you wished my advice on the loyalties of your kin, and it complicates matters that I must await Samhain to meet them.

“We had not anticipated Albyn’s arrival either, and with him but a thought away from recognizing precisely who I really am, whatever advantage I might have provided you may swiftly be lost. Perhaps the wisest course would be for me to depart before my presence provokes any more troubling questions.”

Egan rolled his eyes. “I think not. I put an end to our companions’ curiosity easily enough tonight and will continue to do so. As for Albyn, he’s far too preoccupied with his own problems to care about you.”

Obviously insulted, Oriana replied with a threatening glance, but Egan was not intimidated. From one moment to the next he was never certain what to expect from her, but still, she appeared especially anxious this night.

“There’s something more you’re not telling me,” he insisted. When she looked away, he was certain he had hit upon a secret worth hearing, and after peeling off his shoes, rose to confront her.

Oriana refused to look up at him. If he did not realize the threat she posed to every Druid’s power, she would not hand him that weapon to use against her. She would never endanger his life, but doubted he would continue to be a faithful champion should the Druids condemn her.

“I’ve never known you to be this strangely quiet,” Egan complained. “If you’ll not share any additional worry, share whatever you can about Albyn. I doubt he needs to select one of your Stones of Tomorrow for his future to be revealed. Come on, now. You needn’t cling to your shy pose when we’re alone. Tell me what you can.”

Oriana raised her chin proudly. “I’ve no wish to see into a Druid’s future.”

Egan offered the chair, and when Oriana refused, he eased himself down into it. “Are you admitting that you’re unable to do so?”

“No. I simply won’t. There’s a vast difference between the two.”

“I’ll concede the point, but Albyn might have greater need of your advice than even I do, so I’m begging you to give it.”

“A king does not beg,” Oriana reminded him.

Egan doubted a more stubborn wench had ever been born. “There are times when I regret allowing Duncan to live. Perhaps if I’d left his headless body twitching in the road, you’d be more eager to do my bidding.”

“Perhaps,” Oriana agreed absently, but she did not enjoy his grisly image and dropped to her knees beside him. Eager to soften his stance, she was forced to risk trusting him with at least a partial truth.

“You must understand, to tell a Druid’s fortune is to challenge his own abilities in that regard. When it might provoke a furious response, I dare not do it—not even for you.”

The fear in her eyes was so real that he was surprised her true predicament had eluded him. Her glossy curls caught the fire’s churning light, and he stroked her hair gently. “We may have a strange pact, but I’ll not break it. If you won’t tell Albyn’s fortune, then tell me instead if I can trust him.”

Oriana tipped her head, unconsciously leaning into his caress. “You won’t tell him what I’ve said, nor repeat it to any of the others?”

Egan had already given her his word and found this additional request merely annoying. “What? And risk having them kidnap you to serve them?”

Oriana had been terrified of a swift death rather than being held captive, but she nodded as though being forced to tell fortunes for another were her sole concern. “You must swear it,” she insisted.

Egan had to shift in the chair to raise his right hand. “I promise, yet again,” he said, but she was so very lovely in the firelight that it was impossible for him to be cross with her. When she rose and moved a step away, he nearly cried out, and he reached out to brush his fingertips along the hem of her tunic.

Completely unaware of Egan’s change in mood, Oriana stared into the leaping flames to focus her mind. She called upon the knowing to speak of Albyn’s fate, but rather than the calm reply she had always heard, this was a mere whisper above the crackling fire. She had to strain to catch it all.

After a long moment, she spoke softly. “You were right; Albyn is deeply troubled. He’s chosen the wrong path in life, and his heart longs to begin a different journey.” She saw glorious things for him but limited her response to satisfy the minimum of Egan’s request.

“Before Albyn departs, he’ll prove his worth to you a dozen times over. He is more brother than friend, but when the time comes, you must bid him farewell without argument.”

Egan had fiercely opposed Albyn’s desire to forsake the fortress, and their friendship, to pursue a Druid’s quest, but Oriana’s prediction offered little satisfaction that he had been right years ago. “How will I recognize that crucial moment?” he asked.

“It will be as clear as your own reflection in a placid lake,” Oriana assured him.

“Are you thinking of that magical lake where your mother met Lugh?”

The impatient edge had returned to his voice, but suddenly weary, she refused to argue. “Yes, but any lake will do.”

Egan stared up at her, as much to memorize her delicate features as to study her closed expression. She had accurately described Albyn’s dilemma when he had given her no real clue as to its origin, but he wanted still more.

“What if I were to refuse and instead insisted that he remain here with me?” he asked.

It was his very nature to press for every advantage, and because she had given in to him once, he would be merciless in seeking more. Oriana was sorry she had deigned to confide in him.

She had the true advantage, of course, because she could read Albyn’s future, if not Egan’s, and knew Albyn would be gone before spring. That allowed her to be creative and indulge in a bit of dark fantasy.

“Should you dare to oppose his departure,” she reported with mock dread, “you will create a more powerful enemy than even your bloodthirsty imagination can devise. You must not even consider defying his need to seek his own fate separate from yours. Now you must excuse me, my lord. It has been a very long day, and I can no longer remain awake.”

Egan dismissed her with a slight wave, but he continued to absorb the warmth of the fire and mull over her prophecies. Albyn was desperate to glimpse the future, while Oriana was loath to admit she possessed such a wondrous gift.

The possibility they might make a perfect pair haunted him, but rather than forcing Albyn to stay with him as Oriana had feared, he thought his old friend would be better off gone. They would not be the first friends to part over a beautiful woman, but the possibility weighed heavily on his heart.

Finally he rose, stretched lazily, and removed his tunic. Oriana was asleep on the far edge of the bed, but as he slipped under the furs, he kept well away from her. He propped his head on his hands, stared up at the darkened ceiling, and wished he were again sleeping beneath a canopy of stars.

His muscles ached with fatigue, but he could not rest with Oriana so temptingly close, and he swiftly began to hate the night and its endless silences. The deathly quiet brought thoughts of his father, and he wanted to scream with rage, but he had been raised to conceal his pain no matter how terrible the hurt.

Torn by an agonizing mixture of grief and desire, he got up to tend the fire, and when he returned to bed, he found Oriana watching him. He had never had a more lovely woman in his bed, nor shared it with one who had regarded him with such an insulting detachment.

“You can’t sleep either?” he asked.

“No, I have just been worrying. I should have been mindful of your grief and not spoken so crossly to you,” she murmured.

Her hair pooled over the furs and the lush pelts’ deep colors warmed her fair skin. He could not help but find her alluring, but there was no hint of welcoming desire in her glance. His only comfort was that she had shown a similar lack of interest in Albyn.

“When we agree on nothing, disputes are bound to occur,” he conceded generously.

“There is one thing,” Oriana reminded him. “You would not have sought me out had you not already believed you were in some terrible danger. I once inquired as to your own instincts. I now believe they’re very good.”

“If this is another argument in favor of your immediate departure, I would rather sleep than hear it.” Egan promptly turned his back to her and snuggled down under the furs, but he could still smell her delicious lavender scent and feel her slight weight on the bed. That he had so recently sworn never to want her struck him as demented now. Want her he did, and very badly.

Unaware of Egan’s torment, Oriana rested her hand lightly upon his bare shoulder. “I wish you would listen rather than discount my opinions before I voice them.”

What Egan wished was to ravish her until dawn, and he raised up as he rolled over to face her. “If you wish to become the cherished bride of some magnificent god, you’ll hush and not touch me again.”

Oriana’s eyes widened in surprise. Egan was blocking the firelight, and it gave his silhouette a golden glow. “What has the one thing to do with the other?”

Believing no woman could possibly be that innocent, Egan replied with a primitive growl, and with astonishing ease moved to pin her beneath him. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, nuzzled the smooth softness of her throat, then framed her face with his hands and kissed her tenderly.

“You warned the day would come when I would want you,” he murmured against her ear.

Dazed, it took Oriana a moment to catch her breath. “Oh, aye, now I understand,” she was barely able to whisper.

She knew him to be an agile warrior but had not known he could move as quickly as he had just now. Only a thin linen shift separated his bare chest from her curiously aching breasts, and she had only to turn her head slightly to kiss his shoulder.

She closed her eyes for a moment, but that only intensified the exquisite sensations created by the weight of Egan’s body. Surprisingly, she welcomed the burden until he rolled his hips to stroke the fierceness of his desire against her cleft.

Once Oriana was of a marriageable age, her mother had described the joys of making love. Now Egan seemed intent upon providing an affectionate demonstration, and rather than refusing, she longed to slide her tongue along his bare shoulder. She would not stop there either.

In the next instant, she felt herself falling as if from a great height and reacted with a startled jerk. “I’ll not touch you again,” she vowed through teeth clamped in anger. “Now get off me and go to sleep.”

Egan raised up only slightly. Her voice had changed so abruptly from sweet to furious that he could only wonder what she would demand next. “Are you certain that’s what you truly want?” He grazed his thumb along her jaw as he awaited her reply.

Oriana nearly choked on tears. “Truly.”

The catch in her voice shamed him as nothing else would. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he swore, and sorry he had made such a clumsy mess of things, he instantly moved aside, then slid his arm under her shoulders to pull her close and cradle her head against his chest.

“Just go to sleep, and we’ll sort out everything in the morning,” he urged.

After a brief hesitation, Oriana relaxed against him. As she saw it, there was nothing to be sorted; she was born to be a bride in the Otherworld, not his mistress in this one. Surely it was Lugh himself who had grabbed hold and yanked her to her senses just now, but it would take a long while to recover from the frightening sensation.

She listened as Egan’s breathing slowed into slumber’s easy rhythm, but she did not sleep until exhaustion overcame her defenses. When she awakened the next morning, Egan was gone. Her head and soul ached, and the day promised to bring nothing but sorrow.

Egan rode Raven for the hunt, and Albyn chose a gray gelding he had admired in the stable. The pair took three plump pheasants in what had swiftly become a contest as to who was the better archer. Egan had killed two of the delicious fowl, but Albyn’s aim had proven truer on the third.

Several of the young men who served as guards at the fortress gate had accompanied them, but they dismounted and kept to themselves when Egan and Albyn stopped to rest beneath an ancient oak.

Egan covered a wide yawn and stretched out on his back in the shade. “Give me but a moment to rest, and I’ll find us a stag.”

“Oriana gives you no opportunity to sleep?” Albyn teased. “It appears you’ve finally met your match. Who are her people?”

“No one you know,” Egan exclaimed through another noisy yawn.

“How can that be? She is clearly a lady. Does her father approve of your taking her for mistress rather than wife? Or do you intend to marry her soon?”

“Regretfully no, and no. Now let me rest.”

“I offered my sword should you desire vengeance,” Albyn countered. “I’d not realized you’d been so busy making enemies of your own. Now tell me Oriana’s clan so I’ll at least know how many men we’ll have to fight.”

“It’s always wise to keep a sharpened sword, but now you could spare the time for a nap,” Egan suggested.

Albyn thought Egan daft but rather than argue, scanned the lush countryside. It sloped down to the cliffs bordering the sea. When they were children, they’d rolled through the heather and laughed themselves silly not far from that very spot. That day was such a distant memory, it seemed part of another lifetime now.

“I’d rather not be caught sleeping should Oriana’s kin appear brandishing spears.”

Unconcerned by that unlikely threat, Egan threw his arm over his eyes. “She has no one. Now hush so that I might rest, or my next arrow might go wide and strike you.”

“There is always that danger when we hunt,” Albyn muttered under his breath.

More amused than insulted, Egan sat up ready to pummel him, but Albyn was gazing off toward the sea. Egan turned to see what he was watching, but there was no sign of a boat on the horizon. “Are you thinking of going to sea?” he asked.

Albyn wore a preoccupied frown. “I’ve heard of fabulous islands,” he confided almost reverently.

“All populated by such beautiful virgins no man ever sails away,” Egan chided. “We’ve all heard those tales, and they hold no more weight than sunshine.”

“Perhaps not, but just seeking such a glorious isle would be a fine adventure. Or I could remain here and die fighting Oriana’s kin.”

“You must rein in your imagination, for I speak the truth when I swear she has no kin walking the earth. That is why I’ve offered her my protection. Now I have given up all hope of becoming refreshed, so let’s be on our way.”

Albyn also struggled to his feet and brushed the leaves from his trousers. “Didn’t you just admit her father did not approve of you?”

“That is another story,” Egan admitted, “and far too long and complicated to begin today.”

“It isn’t like you to keep secrets,” Albyn complained.

Egan grabbed Raven’s trailing reins, but paused to study his old friend’s puzzled expression. They had each grown a foot since they had parted, but the physical difference was but a slight change compared with all the others.

“You’ve been away long enough for me to have a great many things to hide,” Egan scolded. “Now cease your complaining and let’s hunt as we intended.”

“Aye, my lord,” Albyn agreed grudgingly, but despite the warning, his curiosity about the lovely Oriana continued to build. “Perhaps it was merely my imagination, or a trick of the firelight, but your lady seemed to glow with an inner light. It made her all the more enchanting.”

“Another word about her, and I’ll pin a target to your chest and send my arrows your way on purpose,” Egan threatened, but as they continued their ride, he wondered if Albyn did not possess more insight than he had realized.

“If you must keep that restless mind of yours occupied,” Egan suggested, “concentrate on who would have wished my father dead.”

Albyn nodded, but he sensed they were in for a brutal fight.

Chapter Eight

Oriana returned to the bluff overlooking the sea. Dressed again in the blue-violet gown, she sat cross-legged in the thick grass with Egan’s wondrous amethyst lightly cradled in her folded palms. The salty breeze caressed her cheeks, gently tossed her long curls, and kept her mind clear as she attempted to focus on Egan’s fate.

She had hoped that close to his fortress home, the knowing would speak of him, but the clouds of danger refused to lift and no more was revealed than in her earlier attempts. Determined to discover something of significance, she cast around him to concentrate on those he knew best. She swiftly settled upon Kieran.

His face readily formed in her mind, then dissolved, leaving her to fear that his fate and Egan’s were too closely entwined to be viewed separately. Discouraged, she breathed deeply to calm her own troubled spirit and simply waited for whatever thought might appear. It was Egan’s proud grin that came to her next, attended by a deep blush at the memory of last night’s wanton kiss.

There was a magic to his affection that she had longed to savor, but Lugh, or perhaps even her future husband himself, had promptly put an end to that folly. What tonight might bring she dared not even contemplate. Distressed her thoughts had strayed so far from her original purpose, she tightened her grasp on the glowing purple crystal and wished with all her heart to see her own future in its faceted depths.

As they neared the fortress, Albyn was the first to catch sight of Oriana. “Look there! It’s not merely her hair that shimmers in the sunlight; her whole body has a near blinding radiance. Do you not see it?”

Egan pulled Raven to a halt, but eager for the comforts of the stable, the horse danced with impatience. Egan slapped his mount’s neck in a gentle reproof, then turned him in a tight circle.

“ ’Tis the light reflected off the water, nothing more,” he insisted, but he was also struck by the sheer beauty of the moment.

Oriana had described Lugh as a being of light, but he now wondered if she had not seen a mortal man with the sun at his back and mistaken the glow for the god’s own brilliance. Then he recalled Lugh’s poignant song and ceased to wonder if he were only seeing a trick of sunlight and sea.

He nudged Raven with his heels, and leaving the guards to carry the stag and pheasants they had slain to the fortress, he turned off the trail and rode toward Oriana. She was so still that for an instant he actually feared he might find a magnificent sculpture of wood or stone rather than a flesh and blood woman. He called her name as he dismounted and sighed with relief when she turned to face him.

He offered his hand to help her rise and took note of the amethyst before she had time to hide it behind her back. “I’m pleased you think enough of my gift to carry it with you. The sun lends all jewels a rare beauty, and lovely ladies as well. We’ve been hunting, but I promise to provide you with fine company for the remainder of the day.”

Albyn had also left the trail and was approaching on foot. Oriana forced a hesitant smile in greeting, then looked up at Egan. Laughter hovered on his lips and shone in his eyes, but she found nothing humorous.

“Wasn’t Kieran with you?” she asked.

“No, of course not. After we’d decided falcons would be a distraction, we’d scarcely have invited Kieran to come along.”

“There will be venison for dinner,” Albyn announced as he joined them. “You mustn’t believe Egan if he claims it was his arrow that took the prize.”

“You may have all the credit,” Egan assured him, but his glance never left Oriana’s wistful smile. “I’d not lie to her.”

Albyn tugged on his sleeves to adjust the fit of his cloak. “I’m pleased to hear it, but I wish she’d use her influence to inspire you to be equally truthful with me.”

Egan had moved to Oriana’s side in what she believed to be an attempt to convincingly portray her lover. He smoothed his hand along her back in small proprietary circles, creating disconcerting tingles. She stepped away to converse with Albyn, but unwilling to arouse more than a passing interest, kept her glance shyly averted.

“Rather than lies, I find Egan speaks the truth with a near brutal flourish. I do wish you’d encourage him to treat Kieran more kindly. It is unfortunate when brothers are estranged.”

“I’ve not seen Kieran since my arrival, my lady, but I’ll do whatever I can to cultivate harmony between Egan and his kin. I’m most curious about your family. Please describe them to me.”

Egan took a deliberate step forward. “I warned you not to pry. Consider me Oriana’s family, and you know all there is to know about me.”

Ignoring that rebuke, Albyn moved close to brush a stray curl from Oriana’s cheek, and his voice became a husky whisper. “Your mother must have been a rare beauty. What was her name?”

“Albyn!” Egan was ready to silence his friend with his fists, but Oriana blocked his way.

As she deftly slid between the two men, she graced each with a smile. It was imperative that Albyn consider her charmingly naive rather than mysterious, and so she answered his question as though she had nothing to hide.

“Not long before I was born, my mother began calling herself Rain. I’ve no idea what she’d been named at birth. Now, aren’t you men hungry?”

She took Egan’s hand to lead him toward Raven. “I could do with a piece of fruit or small wedge of cheese. I shan’t want too much though, when you’ve promised such a fine meal tonight.”

Egan raked Albyn with a caustic glance as he passed by, but he could see that rather than having silenced him, Oriana’s peculiar comment had merely whet his appetite for more. “Rain is a beautiful name,” he responded suddenly. “It has such a gentle sound.”

“Yes, my mother was a lovely, sweet-tempered soul, and it suited her well.”

Albyn studied the ease with which Egan grasped Oriana’s waist to set her astride Raven. Clearly it was not the first time they’d ridden together, but Oriana did not glance coyly over her shoulder to flirt as most young women would. She simply took told of Raven’s silken mane and held on tight.

“Egan won’t let you fall,” Albyn assured her.

She turned, and in a silent plea mouthed a single word: Kieran.

Thinking her preoccupation with Egan’s younger brother odd, Albyn tarried a moment before strolling back to his horse. Their exchange had lasted a mere instant, but he wondered if there hadn’t been an unusual light in her eyes. Last night he had thought they were as green as his own, but that day, he would have sworn they were a honeyed gold. A golden-eyed woman with the beauty of a goddess would inspire poetic tributes from any bard, and he briefly considered composing one himself.

Then, certain it would only anger Egan anew, he turned his thoughts to Kieran as she had asked. He remembered a handsome boy and was uncertain how old the lad would be now. Albyn got on his horse, then hurried his mount and caught up with his companions just as they reached the fortress gate.

The man standing guard threw out his chest proudly and shouted, “Bevan has arrived, my lord.”

As they entered the bailey, a dozen fine horses could be seen outside the stable, and Egan would have recognized their owner by their colorful red and green saddlecloths even without the guard’s announcement. He slid down from Raven’s back and handed his reins to a groom before swinging Oriana to the ground.

“Bevan is a cousin,” he explained. “He was close to my father in age, but never his confidant.”

Before Oriana could reply, Bevan exited the inner fortress and came striding toward them. He was as tall a man as Egan and half again as wide. His brown hair was streaked with gray, but he moved with youthful vigor. His deep-set brown eyes gave him a hawkish appearance, and his mouth formed a bitter downward curve.

“Welcome, cousin,” Egan called. “Have all in your party been made comfortable?”

Egan could feel Oriana pulling away, and took a firm grip on her hand to hold her close. Albyn had continued on into the stable with his borrowed mount, and Egan could not blame him for avoiding Bevan, who tended to be difficult even on his better days.

“Aye, as always,” Bevan replied. He halted a few steps away and rested his fists on his hips. “I heard a wild tale about you and Duncan O Floinn and thought you should spend a day or two as king before such foolish brawling takes you. I sent word to the others, and they’ll arrive by the morrow. Is this the fair lass who caused all the trouble?”

“Oh, no,” Oriana gasped, for if Duncan had described her with any accuracy, Bevan would surely know who, and what, she was. The truth might have already reached Garrick’s ears, and then both she and Egan would be in terrible danger.

Egan felt her tremble and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “It was Duncan himself who caused his own misery. If he’s spoken a single word against Oriana, he’ll not live a day longer than it takes me to find him.”

Bevan nodded thoughtfully. “You needn’t search, for I heard only that he’d lost both his horse and sword when the two of you fought over a woman.”

Bevan cocked his head slightly to observe Oriana with undisguised admiration. “I’ll grant that you’re worth a good fight. What’s your clan, lass? I might know your father.”

Egan felt Oriana sway against him and hurriedly cleared his throat. “Oriana lost her parents years ago. She’s part of the Dál Cais now.”

Leaving the stable, Albyn stepped just close enough to notice how pale Oriana had become. Clearly she was not flattered by Egan’s eagerness to include her, and he had a sick feeling something was terribly amiss. He had never cared much for Bevan, but when the man’s gaze swung his way, he greeted him warmly.

“I’ve been away many years, and you may not remember me. I’m Innis’s son, Albyn.”

Bevan appeared to call upon memory for a brief moment, then nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, I remember you well enough. Whatever trouble Egan found as a lad, you were in twice as deep. I trust the Druids have tamed you.”

“They have certainly tried,” Albyn replied, unable to suppress a sly grin.

“You must remain for the ceremony, although it’s doubtful Garrick will assign you any duties.”

“I shall remain as long as Egan has need of me.” With that promise, he turned to Egan. “I should seek Garrick before he is forced to summon me. It would be a mistake to anger him with disrespect.”

“I wish you harbored such qualms about angering me.” Egan shook his head in dismay. “Go and find Garrick. We’ll speak again tonight.”

“I must also beg to be excused,” Oriana interjected quickly, and before Egan could forbid it, she hurried toward the inner fortress with Albyn.

“You know Garrick?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

Albyn held the door for her, but took care to reply before either had entered. “Aye, but that I went elsewhere to study makes my opinion of him plain.”

She had not thought she would ever dare touch a Druid, but his deep regard for Egan made her bold, and she rested her hand lightly upon his sleeve. “I doubt Garrick has improved in any regard while you’ve been away. Take care not to make an enemy of him.”

Albyn’s hand closed over her slender fingers. “You have the most beautiful eyes, and when I look into them, it’s difficult to recall what you’ve said.”

Frightened she had revealed too much, Oriana instantly averted her gaze and raised her gown to start up the winding stair. “I’ll not trouble you then.”

Certain Egan would not approve of a more lengthy conversation, Albyn let her go. She was an extraordinary young woman, and he could not help but wish he had met her first.

Egan found Oriana seated atop his bed combing windblown tangles from her long hair. He hesitated at his door and gestured impatiently. “Come with me. There’s something we must do.”

He had not spent nearly as long with Bevan as Oriana had anticipated, and after laying her comb aside, she rose quite reluctantly. “You have guests. I don’t wish to intrude.”

Egan held his tongue and waited but had nearly lost his tenuous hold on his temper before she crossed the few steps to reach him. He longed to have her do his bidding without constantly questioning his motives, but feared she had lived too long in her own world to follow any man.

“I want to show you my mother’s chamber. It’s not been used since she died, but my father had it kept ready, as though she were expected to return.”

Intrigued, Oriana willingly followed him along the corridor. “How touching, but what must Ula have thought of his lingering devotion to another woman?”

Egan paused in the beam of light cast by a long narrow window. “She couldn’t have been pleased, but I don’t believe my father ever stopped grieving for the wife he’d lost. Ula amused him, certainly satisfied his physical desires, but my mother must have meant so much more to him.”

He looked so sad, Oriana could not help but wonder if he did not recall more of his mother than he would admit. Perhaps that was why he had never accepted Ula, nor the son she’d borne his father.

“Is that why you think so little of Kieran?”

Egan responded with a rueful laugh. “I don’t think of him at all, and you shouldn’t either.”

Egan slid his arm around her shoulders to pull her close as they continued on their way. “My chamber, as well as Kieran’s, Albyn’s, and quarters for guests are on this corridor. We must go past the stairwell to the opposite corridor to visit my mother’s room.”

As they approached the arched doorway, Oriana was buffeted by a wave of icy air. Startled, she raised her hand. “Wait, did you feel a sudden chill just now?”

Egan rested his hand lightly on the door’s iron handle. “The fortress is always cold. I should have had you don a cloak. Come inside and wrap yourself in furs.”

It had been a chill of the spirit rather than of the flesh, and Oriana first peered inside the chamber to assure herself no danger lurked within. What she found was a tidy room with a fur-heaped bed, magnificent floral tapestries lining the walls, and intricately carved chests stacked neatly in the corners. A subtle lavender fragrance hung in the air, as though Adelaine had dressed there that very morning.

As Oriana stepped cautiously over the threshold, she felt not a chill, but instead a depth of sorrow so profound it brought a mist of tears to her eyes. She heard but a whisper of the knowing, and eager for more, raised a finger to her lips in a plea for silence. She waited a long moment, but all trace of the knowing had evaporated as swiftly as dew on a summer morn.

“I’m sorry, I thought there was some insight to be gained, but it has slipped away without revealing itself.”

Egan grabbed a thick fox fur from the bed and draped it around her shoulders. “Perhaps it will reappear later. I brought you here because these chests contain such beautiful gowns. I want you to wear them rather than wait for Ula’s seamstresses to fashion something new. I’ll not listen to your objections, so for once, do not voice them.”

He gestured for her to take a seat on the bed. Once she had, he sat down close beside her. “We also came here to talk where we’d not be disturbed. I’d not anticipated how curious everyone would be about your family, and you were right, we should have created some believable tale to put the questions to rest. That you are an orphan under my protection is the truth, and I will say no more. You mustn’t either.”

Oriana folded her hands inside the silky fur. “The truth, as you describe it, is all I care to reveal, so you needn’t worry I’ll confide more in anyone.”

Torn by a desire to help him as well as protect herself, she drew her lower lip through her teeth and frowned pensively. “We should also have expected someone to have heard about your fight with Duncan. I warned that we’d not heard the last of him.” She rushed on while she still possessed the courage. “Perhaps it’s because I’m not comfortable here, but thus far, I’ve been of little real value to you.”

She appeared so sincerely troubled, Egan again dropped his arm around her shoulders to offer a comforting hug. “From what you’ve told me, a man’s future is simply revealed to you, but in my case you sense only a terrible danger?”

Filled with a numbing dread, Oriana nodded. “I saw a death, and your father is dead, but the danger still surrounds you. I have tried to see more, but if there is a pathway into that vision, I can’t find it. Perhaps if I knew more of your family.”

Egan considered her request far too reasonable to refuse. “I’ll tell you all I know,” he offered amicably. He released her to hook his thumbs together and fanned his fingers.

“The Dál Cais, like any tribe, began with a single powerful man who became our first king.” He paused to wiggle his fingers playfully. “He sired both sons and daughters, who were equally fruitful, and his descendants spread out to form many clans.

“His eldest son became the next king, and that man’s eldest son followed. If you wish more detail, you’ll have to ask Albyn, for our Druids can recite every name and date, while I’m not expected to learn them. What I do know is that there has been deceit and treachery of every sort imaginable, as there is with any great family.

“That is why I sought you out. So when the day came for me to be king, although I did not expect it to come so soon, I would already know my enemies, no matter how loyal they pretended to be.” He dropped his hands to his knees. “Now, tell me what you think of Bevan.”

“Frankly, I was so frightened that he knew about Duncan, I was unable to do more than tremble.”

Appreciating that grain of truth, Egan searched her face for more. “You still don’t trust me to protect you?”

He was so near, Oriana could smell the scent of the leaves in which he’d lain. The fragrance of the forest clung to his clothes and made her long for home. “If the choice were your own life, no.”

Egan was mystified by her response. “How could it ever come to that? A king might have a dozen mistresses and no one would fault him for it. You were raised by a mother fearful of discovery, and it is understandable why you took on the same terror. That you are so elusive also preserves your power as a seer. But here, you are merely my woman, nothing more. Don’t allow your mind to create trouble that doesn’t exist.”

Oriana’s expression filled with disbelief. “As if pretending to be your mistress weren’t trouble in itself,” she reminded him.

Egan laughed as he rose and went to open the largest of his mother’s chests. “It’s such a fine day, I’ll forgive you for that unfortunate opinion. Now I want you to have fine slippers as well as lovely gowns. Help me find them so that you may try them on.”

Oriana remained where she sat. She had enjoyed wearing Adelaine’s gowns and felt no hint of disapproval from their original owner, but shoes were another matter entirely. “She must have had a fine lady’s dainty feet. I’ve walked farther than most peasants, and her slippers will never fit me.”

Egan glanced down at the scuffed toes of the slippers peeking out from beneath her gown. “You also have beautiful little feet, Oriana. Now stop being so contrary and come help me search.” He pulled out a pale linen shift edged with lace and tossed it to her. “Look at this. Don’t you need several?”

Oriana caught the soft garment and folded it across her lap. “It’s lovely, but I’ll wear it only while I’m here.”

Annoyed by her continued eagerness to depart, Egan leaned against the trunk and folded his arms across his chest. “I believe I’ll ask Albyn to recite our complete history. It will not only enable you to foretell my relatives’ futures more confidently, but the undertaking will undoubtedly require several years’ time. By then you may have finally ceased threatening to leave me.”

His expression was as dark as his taunt, but unafraid, Oriana set aside the shift to rise and face him. “It isn’t a threat, my lord. I am not your mistress, and I will leave just as soon as the danger to you is past.”

As Egan saw it, the challenge was to again make her beg to stay. He glanced toward his mother’s bed, but swiftly decided that rather than now, the coming night would present a much better opportunity to bind her to him. He waited, half expecting to be called a fool for defying the gods, but the only sound was the familiar distant roar of the sea.

He flashed a charming smile. “We will have to agree upon a mutually satisfactory date. Now come and select a few gowns, while I burrow through all these clothes to find the shoes.”

Oriana breathed deeply. Egan, with his quicksilver moods, was adept at brushing problems aside rather than facing them, and she instinctively knew the habit would not serve him well as king. She scanned the chests and pointed to a small square one.

“I believe Adelaine must have kept her shoes separate from her gowns. Why don’t you open that one?”

“Whatever you say, my lady,” Egan responded with a deep bow. He found the lid a bit difficult to raise, but with increased effort pried it open. Inside there were several pairs of soft suede slippers, some obviously never worn.

As he removed a new pair, out fell a long necklace fashioned of delicate wooden beads linked together by a fine silver chain. A small heart-shaped yellow agate was suspended from the unusual piece. He recognized it instantly and scooped it up from the floor.

“My father carved these beads for my mother when they were courting. They found the pretty stone while walking along the shore. He gave her such beautiful jewelry, but this was her favorite and the only one I recall her wearing.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped it over Oriana’s head.

“You must keep it,” he insisted. “It’s the perfect adornment for a princess from the forest.”

Oriana ran her fingers over the small barrel-shaped beads. They had been cut from slender twigs and surely it had been Adelaine’s touch which had worn the bark smooth. The pretty necklace weighed no more than a feather and would be a joy to wear.

“Thank you,” she murmured without looking up. “I’ll wear it now, but return it so that your wife may treasure it and pass it along to your first daughter.”

Egan swept her with a perplexed glance. “Are you telling my fortune, or just wishing me a good one?”

“The latter, I’m afraid,” Oriana admitted with an embarrassed laugh.

Egan had always expected to wed, but he had never set his sights on any particular lass because there were so many comely possibilities. He was stunned that the mere mention of a wife now sickened him and, annoyed by the uncomfortable sensation, he continued his perusal of the chests’ contents.

He hoped he would find other trinkets that would prompt pleasant memories. Since he had not seen the necklace in so many years, he was amazed he had recalled its story. Perhaps his father had told it often, or only once with such fervor Egan had been deeply impressed by the love with which the small wooden beads had been carved.

Oriana sat down to try on Adelaine’s slippers. To her immense surprise, like the beautiful gowns, they were a perfect fit. She knew the fact they shared the same size and coloring was merely a coincidence, but in the forbidding fortress, any comfort was most welcome. If the gods had led her there to learn of Adelaine’s existence, though, she wished they would reveal why soon.

That night the great hall was ablaze with the light of a hundred torches. More than a dozen low tables had been set out for the evening meal, and Egan’s kinsmen were streaming around and through them in a careless shuffle. Their many animated conversations produced a low, rolling hum and an occasional burst of raucous laughter carried above the bard’s lively tunes and the crackling hiss of the enormous fire.

As they neared the wide doorway, Oriana felt crushed by the noise and clung even more tightly to Egan’s arm than she had the previous evening. She recognized Bevan standing with three younger men who resembled him closely, and she assumed they were his sons. She watched them part and join other groups. Indeed, the whole hall was a churning mass of visitors.

Kieran was perhaps twenty feet away and leaning close to speak with a striking young woman whose raven tresses were braided with strands of golden cord. She was clothed in a rich emerald green and stood so close to Kieran that she appeared to rub against his whole length each time she whispered a confidence.

Egan followed Oriana’s glance and explained softly, “That’s Madi. She’s a cousin to Ula and visits often. She’s adored Kieran since they were children.”

Oriana noted the width of Kieran’s grin and thought his feelings for Madi were equally plain. “He appears to return her affection,” she replied.

“Aye, he does. They may wed soon, although I’d rather not have more of Ula’s insufferable kin in residence here. But with Madi so intent upon seducing Kieran, he’s unlikely to seek a wife elsewhere.”

Hoping to ease her dread, Oriana sought out other familiar faces, and Ula quickly caught her eye. Some might have described the tall, slender man by her side as handsome, but while he looked vaguely familiar, it wasn’t at all reassuring. “Who’s that with Ula?”

Egan dipped his head so close to answer, his lips brushed her ear. “That’s Skell; he’s Madi’s father and Garrick’s younger brother.”

Shocked, Oriana’s breath caught in her throat and strange patterns began to form in her mind, but they scattered before she could make sense of the tumbling colors and shapes. “Something is dreadfully wrong here,” she moaned.

Fearing she had taken ill, Egan slid his arm around her waist to steady her. “You didn’t sleep well. Perhaps all you need is an ample meal.”

“No. I can’t stay.” Oriana turned away from him in a vain attempt to avoid his grasp but he caught her arm in a confining hold before she could take a hasty step back through the doorway. “Please, you must let me go. Be on guard tonight, and we’ll speak later.”

At that instant, Egan’s entry was acknowledged with a hoarse shout. A fresh ripple of motion rolled through the hall as the crowd swung toward him. The conversation tapered off to a low hush that became a startled silence as they noted both Oriana’s presence and her obvious reluctance to remain.

Within minutes of her arrival, Madi had appraised the other young women gathered in the hall and dismissed them all as pitifully wanting. She had been supremely confident her beauty was unrivaled until Egan had appeared with a flame-haired stranger dressed in deep lavender. Sensing a most unwelcome threat, she pressed against Kieran.

“Who is Egan’s unwilling companion?” she asked.

“His whore,” Kieran sneered. “She’s an orphan you needn’t befriend. Don’t even deign to speak with her.”

Skell had already heard about Egan’s woman from Ula, but she was far more beautiful than he had been led to expect, and he moved swiftly to his daughter’s side. He slid his hand along her shoulder in a protective caress and insinuated himself between her and Kieran in time to hear the latter’s disparaging remark.

“He’d not dare flaunt a common whore before his family,” Skell chided. “She has the face and figure of a goddess and is obviously highborn. Clearly Egan has forged a secret alliance, and then stupidly believed we would accept a transparent tale about a pretty orphan. You mustn’t dismiss her, my child. She is more dangerous than you can even dream.”

Madi’s glance narrowed to hostile slits. “She’s as slender as a leaf and undoubtedly fragile. I’m not afraid of her.”

Skell looked over her head to nod at Kieran and was pleased to see just how well the young man understood his warning.

Ever alert to the reactions of others, Egan placed his hand firmly on Oriana’s back to propel her into the hall ahead of him. “You swore to obey me whenever my kin were near. Now do it!” he ordered through clenched teeth.

Oriana recoiled, but she was caught and knew it. She glared a silent curse at Egan, then called upon a lifetime of deception to project the confidence of a queen. She straightened her shoulders, raised her chin, and moved with extraordinary grace while a terror she had yet to name tore at her heart and threatened her very soul.

Chapter Nine

Egan had known men who never allowed their wives to stray from their sides, possessiveness he had previously found pathetic, but that he now finally understood.

Nothing Oriana did was provocative. To the contrary, she was the least flirtatious woman he had ever met. He had introduced her to his kin with pride, but on every occasion, she had responded with no more than a polite nod and a slight smile. Then, with a demure downward glance, she had retreated from the conversation without taking a single step away.

She was not really his woman, as she oft reminded him, but her lack of interest in impressing his family insulted him nonetheless. She might have been unfazed, but he was acutely aware of the attention she garnered. There was not a man present who did not eye her with open lust, while the women’s furtive glances were filled with dark reproach. Uncertain which was worse, he welcomed the distraction of a fine meal but noticed that Oriana ate nothing and sipped from the same small cup of wine all evening.

When the first of his guests began to yawn, he was inspired to suggest they take the falcons out to hunt at dawn, and that prompted many to retire. He then left Ula and Kieran to entertain those who remained and exited the hall with Oriana firmly in tow. He heard more than one ribald suggestion as they passed, but because a king was expected to be virile, he stubbornly ignored the crude remarks.

Oriana was deeply grateful that Egan had not told tales of his travels to his guests until dawn, but when they reached his chamber she stepped through his doorway and spun to face him.

“It’s my gift you want, not me, and you shouldn’t have shoved me through that crowded hall. I found the noise nearly unbearable and even if the knowing had spoken an eloquent warning, I’d not have heard it over the din.”

Eager for a fight, Egan’s disgusted scowl deepened as he slammed his door and leaned back against it. “I did not once shove you toward anyone, but perhaps you were too distracted to notice how well you were treated.”

He was furious with her, although his voice was as soft as smoke. “You’re also wrong about my not wanting you, and while you’re too willful to admit it, you want me too.”

Aghast at his boldness, Oriana responded with laughter that bordered on a feral howl. “I’ve no control over your wild imaginings, but did you see the same brooding restlessness that I observed tonight? It’s plain in the sly glances passing between the men. If I knew more names, I could better describe a particular individual’s mood, but your whole family appeared to be passing secrets they’d not share with you. That can’t possibly be good.”

Oriana went straight to the fire and grabbed the poker, but she left the half-burnt log untouched. She thought Egan was merely taunting her, but if he turned amorous, she would have only one chance to strike him. She intended to make the blow count.

Her disturbing comments caught Egan by surprise, and he hurriedly latched the door and came toward her. “First my kin were a noisy lot, and now they’re brooding, restless, and secretive? Did you find nothing to admire about them?”

Although Oriana had been too frightened to dwell on anyone for long, she had swiftly grown bored with tales of long-dead men. “I prefer my own company to that of bloodthirsty Dál Cais warriors seeking new enemies to slay.”

It was now Egan who responded with hoots of laughter. “I’ll scarcely have time to seek new enemies after dealing with the multitudes you’ve undoubtedly insulted here tonight.”

Oriana gritted her teeth. “Do not mock me, Egan. There’s mischief afoot, and when you’ve been left out, it must concern you.”

Her posture was as rigid as the poker in her hand, and Egan wisely kept his distance. “No one was whispering about me, you blind little fool. You were the subject of whatever controversy occurred here tonight.”

As Oriana turned to face him, the poker slipped from her hand and struck the floor with a loud clatter. “But I did nothing to arouse curiosity!”

Egan shook his head in dismay. “Oh, no, you merely cloaked yourself in mystery as darkly intriguing as the night.”

When Oriana sent a confused glance toward the fire, for one terrifying instant he feared she might hurl herself into the flames. He reached her without feeling the steps and gathered her into his arms. She was trembling, and he held her tightly.

“Must I remind you yet again that I’ll protect you? Why do you still doubt me?”

Since she had made a concerted effort to avoid drawing notice, it had not occurred to her that his kin could have been preoccupied with her. For an awful moment she clung to him, and when he brushed her brow with a tender kiss, she bit her lower lip to stifle a grateful moan.

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, but not enough to prompt Egan to release her. “What is it?” he shouted.

“It’s Albyn. Forgive me, but I must speak with you immediately.”

Egan drew in a deep breath, and held it while he wondered what Albyn could possibly find so urgent. He rubbed his cheek against Oriana’s silken hair, and for a long moment refused to let her go. When he at last slackened his hold, he guided her toward the chair.

“Do not worry so,” he whispered. He waited until she was comfortably seated, and then placed a hurried kiss atop her head.

When he reluctantly opened the door, all Albyn observed was a contemplative young woman seated by the fire and an old friend who could not have been more annoyed.

Albyn shouldered his way past Egan, and mindful of the many guests in the fortress, spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I said nothing tonight, but merely listened, and there’s wild speculation of a secret alliance between you and Oriana’s father.”

Egan swore a particularly inventive oath as he again slammed his door. “For what purpose?”

“The usual,” he said. “To better prey on enemies and increase the size of your kingdom.”

Eager to improve his view of Oriana, Albyn moved toward the center of the room. She had appeared distracted all evening, but he had her full attention now. “Is it mere conjecture or the truth?” he prodded them both.

“Before we returned home, I’d no idea my father had died,” Egan reminded him. “So I’d not be out making alliances on my own. Has no one considered such an obvious fact?”

With an agonizing burst of awareness, Oriana was struck by how quickly her arrival had created a danger in itself. Terrified she had unwittingly fulfilled her own prophecy, she issued a frantic order. “Send Albyn away, now.”

Egan nodded, then broadened his stance and gestured toward the door. “Until dawn, Albyn.”

Dumbfounded by how swiftly Egan had done Oriana’s bidding, the handsome Druid shook his head. “Listen to her! Clearly she’s no homeless waif, but a lady accustomed to giving orders. Don’t you care what’s being said about her?”

“Not in the slightest.” Egan swiped his hand through his hair. “The whole lot were drunk. They’ll not hold such fanciful notions in the morning.”

Albyn noted the anguish in Oriana’s beautiful golden eyes and could not silence a final protest. “No one was too drunk to appreciate Oriana’s beauty and bearing. She’s obviously from a proud family, and her father would not have entrusted her to you without extracting a promise of something valuable in return.”

Before Egan could respond to Albyn’s logical conclusion, Oriana stood to confront him. She dipped her head slightly, unconsciously adopting a threatening pose. “If you are forced to choose between Garrick and Egan, will you be allowed to leave the Druids?”

Completely unprepared for such an alarming challenge, Albyn sent an accusing glance toward Egan, but his old friend shook his head to assure him he had not violated his confidence. Nonetheless, Albyn was deeply disturbed to have his private torment voiced aloud, and by a woman no less.

He was even more firmly convinced Oriana and Egan were hiding her true identity, but what their purpose could be confounded him. Since he had kept no secrets from Egan, he was deeply insulted not to be shown the same respect.

Albyn let his sleeves slide over his hands to hide his clenched fists. “You’ve posed a dangerous question, my lady.”

“As have you,” she replied. “I bid you a good night.”

Albyn hesitated, but with Egan in such a recalcitrant mood, he would not waste his breath further. “Come on the hunt alone,” he cautioned as he passed by, and while it was an effort, he closed the door quietly behind him.

Once their privacy was again assured, Oriana scanned the chamber, but between the flames and fur-heaped bed, the chair offered the only island of safety. Assailed by a bitter truth, she sank down upon it and clasped her hands tightly between her knees.

“How could I have been so blind?” she moaned. “No one can escape his fate, and by bringing me here, you’ve simply hastened the danger I foretold.”

Not so easily disheartened, Egan knelt in front of her. He parted her hands and placed soothing kisses on her palms. “You’re unaccustomed to crowds,” he offered, “and found the evening unsettling. I should have understood what was enjoyable for me was a tedious ordeal for you. Come to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Oriana felt the strength in his capable grasp but knew while sincere, he was again gravely mistaken. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Don’t you understand what’s happened?” she chided. “Rather than proving beneficial, my presence has created the very danger you sought me out to avoid. I’ve brought you only ruin.”

Egan rocked back on his heels, but he was more amused than concerned by her dread. “I’m far from ruined, and you can’t blame yourself for my father’s death.”

That it was even a possibility made Oriana sick clear through. She could not bear his confident glance and focused instead upon their entwined hands. She enjoyed his gentle touch, but feared it came at far too high a price.

Her chest ached when she drew the breath to speak. “It’s said the gods enjoy making sport of mortals’ lives. They could have made you king, all for the fun of using me to destroy you.”

“No,” Egan said emphatically. “Lugh may be a mighty warrior with the sun’s own brilliance, but he isn’t cruel, and he’d never allow you to be used so badly.”

Oriana raised her hand to caress his cheek. He was the only man she had ever touched with true feeling, and after knowing him, there could be no others. His slight smile was so sweet, she had to close her eyes for a moment. When she looked up, their golden depths reflected the flames’ dancing light.

“You no longer doubt who I am?” she asked.

Egan rose and drew her up into his arms. “No. You’re Lugh’s daughter; you could be no one else’s.”

Although fearing his growing fondness for her had put an end to his skepticism, she rested her head against his chest. Beneath her ear, his heart beat with a slow steady rhythm, while hers was all aflutter. She knew what she longed to do, but what she had to do to protect him was all that truly mattered. When at last she could bear to, she pulled away from his embrace.

“You must marry a woman whose family actually does offer a powerful alliance. It’s what kings do; what they must do to survive. I’ve no warriors to defend you, and if I were to remain here, the controversy about me will surely grow. When you refuse to name my father, your kin will swiftly conclude you’re plotting against them. The ceremony that makes you king has yet to be held. What if another man is chosen? Would he allow you to live?”

Astonished she held so many desperate fears, Egan reached out to encircle her waist, and after encountering only mild resistance, succeeded in pulling her close. He was certain she could feel her affect upon him through her soft woolen gown, but he was not ashamed to be so easily aroused and slid his hands down her back to press her hips closer still.

“Are you now able to see my future with a new clarity?” he asked.

Exquisitely aware of his pride and strength, Oriana hung her head. “No. The knowing confides nothing more than a sense of foreboding where you’re concerned, but you’ve told me something of your family’s history.”

Egan shifted slightly to enfold her soft, slender curves in an even more confining embrace and rested his chin atop her curls. “I intend to be king of the Dál Cais, Oriana, and I’ll rule with the woman I choose.”

“Now who is being willful?” she breathed out against his chest. She slid her arms around his waist and clutched his tunic to hold him with equal strength. He swaggered through life brandishing a broadsword, while she crept along the shadows. They could not have been more different, and yet, for a few glorious moments, she felt safe in his arms. That he was not also safe in hers broke her heart.

Egan forced himself to stand still but it was all he could do not to swing Oriana up into his arms and carry her the few short paces to his bed. He ached to have her and yet remained motionless while she leaned into him. She had always recoiled from his touch, but now that she could at last tolerate a warm embrace, he dared not move and frighten her away.

He closed his eyes to heighten the sensation, no, the havoc, she created within him. No other woman had ever invaded his soul with a single glance. There was an ever present remoteness about her that he sensed masked a deep longing, but he had no hope of satisfying it other than with the generous affection she had always refused. He waited a long while to find words worth speaking.

“What do you know of falconry?” he murmured.

While she rested so comfortably in his arms, his voice surrounded her with a deep, seductive resonance. It was a richly masculine sound, and in its own way, as compelling as Lugh’s song.

“I know only that the hawks are both beautiful and deadly.” Like you, she thoughtfully did not add.

Egan stretched slightly to ease the growing tension in his shoulders and began to sift her long curls through his fingers. “We hunt with the gyrfalcon or peregrine. Females are preferred because they’re larger and stronger. It’s best to take them from their nests or aerie and train them before they’ve learned to fly and hunt on their own. Such a bird is known as an eyas. But a hawk of passage is one caught during migration. It is still young, but having known freedom, is a far greater challenge to train.”

Oriana tipped her head and saw his sly smile. “Are you likening me to one of your falcons?”

That was precisely what Egan had been doing, but caution forced a denial. “Nay, I doubt any man could tame you.”

It pained her that he appeared unwilling to even make an attempt. She lowered her head and rubbed her cheek against his soft woolen tunic. They were so close his heated desire warmed her clear through, but she still felt terribly alone. Perhaps like the birds of prey, she should have been taken when very young. Now the gods had waited too long to claim her, and mortal men dared not even try.

Then who had yanked her from Egan’s passionate embrace last night? Torn by the ever present danger to him and by her own confused folly, she placed both hands on the solid wall of his chest to push him away. “Tonight I would like to sleep in your mother’s chamber if I may.”

Her tone was softly apologetic, but all Egan heard was a plaintive plea to sleep anywhere but with him. Badly disappointed the tenderness of his touch meant so little to her, he dropped his hands to his sides, but his thoughts were not so easily controlled.

“You may sleep wherever you choose, my lady, but I’ll rest there as well,” he promised, and his steady gaze brooked no argument.

Oriana accepted the inevitable defeat with a slight shrug. “There is no point in going elsewhere then,” she replied, but she had heard Albyn caution him to hunt alone tomorrow.

She smiled slightly as she returned to the chair for another restless night, but the moment Egan was out of sight on the morrow, she would ride Brute into the forest and not once look back.

Egan knew better than to believe Oriana had suddenly become agreeable, but bit back a vile curse before it sprang from his lips. “I’m going to step outside and count to twenty. When I return, I expect you to be in my bed and dressed in no more than your shift.”

Oriana was already absorbed in the leaping flames. “Expect whatever you please,” she responded absently. “I’ll wait here.”

Egan was tempted to kick the chair right out from under her, but he doubted it would do any good. “I’ve never struck a woman, but I swear you are well on your way to becoming the first.”

Unconcerned by his threat, Oriana propped a foot on the seat of the chair and looped her arms around her bent knee before glancing toward him. “I’ll grant that you could kill me with a single mighty blow.”

“Nay,” Egan responded with a derisive snort. “I’d rather strangle you.” He had meant to sound fierce, but caught by the absurdity of his ever truly wishing to harm her, a tug of barely suppressed laughter ruined his frown.

Oriana watched as his lips widened into a charming grin and doubted he had ever met anyone else who would not gladly bow to his wishes. She still fought to warn him. “What’s needed here is cunning rather than your bold strength or boundless charm.”

“Cunning,” Egan repeated. He rolled the word around in his mind and swiftly rejected any need for subterfuge. “I am the rightful king, Oriana. Conjecture about your possible origins is merely tantalizing gossip. We’ll pay it no heed.”

Oriana had spent too many years hiding her identity to casually dismiss questions about her background. By coming there she felt as though she had stumbled into a deadly maze fraught with challenges, while, as usual, Egan insisted upon standing atop a wall of confidence to survey a sun-drenched kingdom. Unfortunately such an arrogant attitude would offer scant protection if her arrival continued to create chaos.

Guilt-ridden, she offered a truce. “The night has already been too long. Can’t we continue this argument on the morrow when you return from your hunt?”

She sounded as though her suggestion were a perfectly sensible one, but Egan refused to be so easily distracted. “No, not when the issue is where you’ll sleep tonight.”

Oriana continued to regard him with a level gaze. “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose not.”

It seemed they were at an impasse. With barely concealed longing, her glance wandered down Egan’s impressively muscled frame. Last night Lugh had yanked her from his arms before he could become her lover. Would Lugh grab her so quickly tonight? Did she dare test the god’s resolve, or her own?

Ashamed of where such thoughts had led, she softened both her pose and expression. “Last night you complained I was too flirtatious, and tonight too distant and mysterious. It appears I am a failure in my pose as your mistress.”

Surprised she wished to discuss the usually volatile subject, Egan relaxed as well. “No, on both evenings you were much admired.”

“Perhaps,” Oriana mused thoughtfully, “but you had hoped my presence would distract everyone, not send them into a frenzy of absurd speculation that could endanger both our lives.”

While that was certainly true, for the moment Egan cared nothing for the world outside his chamber. He went to Oriana and again coaxed her from the chair she sought all too often. He hugged her close to savor her faint lavender scent and ran his hands over her long, pretty curls. Were she truly his mistress, he hoped he would do a far better job of pleasing her.

“You ate sparingly this afternoon and nothing this evening. While you prepare for bed, I’ll fetch us some warm bread and cold venison.” He would also bring wine to sooth her troubled mood.

They had apparently reached an uneasy accord, and Oriana was amazed her clumsy apology had prompted such unexpected consideration from him. “I’m too frightened to be hungry,” she confided shyly.

Egan wondered how she had found the courage to boldly follow him into the fortress, but hoped she had been prompted by concern for his welfare. Seeking to deepen the regard she refused to voice, he placed a hasty farewell kiss on her cheek.

“You mustn’t argue with me,” he scolded softly. “You must simply eat. I’ll return before you’ve noticed that I’ve gone.”

Oriana was impressed by his sweetness, but badly disappointed by how little her dire warnings had meant to him. Perhaps after she left the fortress, the threat of danger would vanish with her. If no horrible consequence occurred to him later, then he would undoubtedly laugh at her memory, but that was preferable to her weeping at his grave.

She could remove the heavy golden torque by herself now, but as her fingertips played over his mother’s smooth wooden beads, she knew she would miss them almost as much as the charming man who had given her the beloved token.

When Egan found guests still lingering in the great hall, he slipped through the narrow back passageway usually reserved for servants. Upon reaching the kitchen, he told the startled cooks that he was too hungry to summon a servant to bring food and stood by while they filled a platter with the bread and venison he had promised Oriana. He balanced it upon his fingertips and picked up a full flagon of wine on his way out.

He was convinced Oriana was simply tired and hungry, and he hoped she would turn affectionate once she felt refreshed. He began to whistle, then caught himself before he drew any unwelcome company. He nearly shouted for joy when he found her in his bed, but then realized she had fallen asleep.

He was tempted to wake her and make her eat a late supper, but then decided he could use a short nap himself. After setting the food and wine aside, he discarded his tunic and shoes. Then with the stealth he usually reserved for the hunt, he slid into bed and waited for the woman of his dreams to awaken in his arms.

Chapter Ten

Kieran’s hand rested lightly upon Madi’s waist as he escorted her to the chamber prepared for her visit. Once they reached the recessed doorway, however, he stepped behind her and slid his arms around her in a possessive hug. He gave a low, suggestive growl and lowered his head to nibble her ear.

“Don’t make me wait any longer. I want to stay with you tonight.”

Although nearly crushed against his lean, muscular body, Madi shamelessly twisted her hips across his rigid arousal. It was sublime to possess such exhilarating power over a man, and yet she kept her spoken response deliberately innocent.

“ ’Tis bliss simply to rest in your arms like this.”

Kieran relaxed his hold to slide his thumb up the fullness of her breast, and his voice grew husky with desire. “Not for me it isn’t. I want to glory in all of you, and now, tonight.”

Madi replied in an enticing purr, “I’ll grant a kiss or caress, beloved, but nothing more until after we’re wed.”

Kieran raised a hand to smooth a dark curl from her cheek and brushed his lips against her ear. “We’re mere days from Samhain, which would be a splendid time.”

“Yes, indeed, but the appropriate agreements have not been struck,” she reminded him regretfully. “If only your father had spoken to mine. Perhaps you could ask Egan to—”

Instantly repulsed, Kieran released her with a rude shove. “I’ll not ask Egan for anything, ever!”

Madi turned toward him, and even in the flickering torchlight, her displeasure was clearly etched upon her finely shaped brow. She closed the distance between them with a graceful sway and spread her small hands over Kieran’s broad chest. Madi looked up at him through her long sable lashes and relied upon well-practiced charms. “Am I not worth such a small sacrifice?”

Kieran grabbed her wrists to force her away. “Not without a more enticing incentive than you’ve offered tonight, my lady.”

Yanking free of his grasp, Madi stared at him coldly. Her mother had not felt up to making the trip, but she had been raised to place such a high value on her virtue that to bed Kieran without the security of marriage was unthinkable. That he had not responded positively to her softly voiced encouragement to bring their union into reality cut her temper as short as his.

“Earlier this evening you referred to me as your treasure. Now it appears your hatred for Egan is far stronger than your love for me. How fortunate that I discovered the truth before you hurt me any more deeply. I’ll not bid you a good night when I hope you’ll choke to death in your sleep.”

She had slipped into her chamber and thrown the bolt before Kieran could think of a suitably insulting reply. No woman, no matter how lovely, was worth what it would cost him in pride to approach Egan for a favor. He despised his brother and wished with all his heart that Egan had been the one to fall ill and die.

After Albyn’s utter failure with Egan, he left the fortress to walk the bailey in distracted circles. He had rushed home to offer sympathy, which Egan had certainly appreciated, but that the future king placed a higher value upon his elegant companion’s advice than his boyhood friend’s was appalling.

When lightning tore the chilly mist, Albyn adjusted his hood with a disgusted tug. The gift of prophecy might elude him, but he still trusted his instincts, and no matter how stubbornly Egan refused to see the tumult swirling around him, it would remain.

“And so will I,” Albyn vowed, for he would not abandon Egan when the situation could only grow worse. The first drops of rain forced him back to the fortress, but he was as uneasy as when he had stepped outside and doubted he would find any restful sleep that night.

After they had all enjoyed a hearty meal, Garrick had included the visiting Druids in the final plans for the coming ceremony. The meeting had closed with a familiar chant, but even as he had swayed with the ancient rhythm, he had noted Albyn’s conspicuous absence.

Cadell had been an astute ruler, and though he and Garrick had never been close, each had respected the other. The Druid and Egan shared no such mutual regard, however, and now the dutiful Albyn had returned home to provide a most unwelcome complication. Garrick had spent too many years amassing power to relinquish a modicum even momentarily, but as he made his way to Ula’s chamber, he shoved such distressing thoughts aside and turned his mind toward pleasure.

Her door was unlatched, allowing the fragrance of her haunting perfume to seep into the corridor. It was an enchanting invitation, and after making certain the guards who toured the fortress during the night were not lurking about to observe, he entered. On the hearth, a bright fire blazed to clearly illumine Ula curled atop her bed. Clad only in a lace-trimmed shift, her fair skin still glowed with a youthful beauty, and she was as lovely as the first time they had made love years ago.

“Why have you kept me waiting so long?” she asked accusingly. “Don’t bother to blame the length of the Druid’s incantations. Had you wished, you could have brought them to a prompt close.”

As usual, Garrick chose not to take affront at her tedious complaints. He drew his robe and tunic off over his head and cast them aside before replying. “Aye, I could have done that easily, but these are sensitive times, and it would not serve our purpose to arouse anyone’s suspicions.”

Bored and eager to capture his full attention, Ula arched her back toward him and pinched her nipples to create enticing buds that pushed against her soft linen shift. “I heard rumors all evening about Egan’s whore. She has proven to be even more useful than you’d promised, for she distracts not merely Egan, but all who see her.”

A sly smile lit Garrick’s face as he removed his shoes. He then slid across the end of the fur-strewn bed to reach for Ula’s tiny feet. “Aye, she makes Egan almost too easy to destroy, and I know how much you’ll delight in his undoing.”

“It will scarcely compare to the boundless joy of having Kieran named the rightful heir and king of the Dál Cais.”

“You must be patient for a few more days, my beauty, and for tonight, enjoy only me.” He slid his hands up her thighs to open her to him and laughed as she drew in a startled breath. He explored her moist depths with his fingertips, slowly tantalizing her until she squirmed beneath his touch and begged for more.

“Not yet,” he cajoled, and he paused to remove his trousers so that she might first pleasure him with her mouth. It was an erotic entertainment he had taught her on the journey to wed Cadell, and he was still amused that he had successfully delivered a virgin bride without denying himself a single opportunity to sample her favors. There was no longer any need to hide their lengthy affair, but the inherent danger had always enhanced Ula’s appeal, and he had no intention of ever revealing their liaison.

He considered Ula as great a whore as Egan’s mistress, but that was merely one of the many dark secrets locked away in his heart.

The wind-driven rain ruffled the tapestry covering the narrow windows in Egan’s chamber, and thickened the air with the dank odor of the ocean’s depths. A sizzling bolt of lightning filled the room with a blinding flash, and the whole fortress vibrated under a deafening clap of thunder.

Jolted awake, Oriana sat up and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. She’d had a greater fright than any caused by the inclement weather. Fighting panic, she longed to run, but in the dead of night there was no escaping Egan or the fortress.

Egan had slept so fitfully, he had already been awake and eased himself up to a sitting position. “It’s just rain clouds hovering over Mount Royal,” he assured his uneasy companion. “Tonight’s storm is more violent than most, but it will pass with the dawn. It always does.”

“I’m not afraid of the storm.” Oriana dipped her head momentarily, and then swept her hair from her eyes. “I’ve just had the most vivid dream.

“An enormous hawk soared above me. His wings were outstretched, beating the air, while his long, sharp claws reached out toward me like daggers. I truly thought he was going to pluck me from the ground, and my only defense was to roll into a small, tight ball. Then I heard my mother’s laughter and peeked through my fingers to see the hawk land upon her gloved wrist.”

Rocking slightly, Oriana paused to glance toward Egan. His hair was as sleep-rumpled as hers, and dark stubble shadowed his cheeks, but she had grown so accustomed to his presence she did not find his unkempt appearance alarming.

“You once asked me if the gods brought food to my doorstep. I thought it a rude question.”

Anticipating an exciting story, Egan chose not to argue. “Which it was. Please forgive me. Go on.”

Oriana dismissed his apology with an impatient wave. “I’d completely forgotten that my mother once owned a hawk who’d hunt for us. I must have been very young, and I don’t recall the bird’s name, but I’m positive it was a memory just now, not a dream.”

Easing closer, Egan dropped his arm around her shoulders to encourage her to lean into him. When she did, he offered a comforting squeeze. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. I saw her clearly as the hawk swooped down through the trees to settle upon her padded glove. She was dressed in a beautiful emerald green gown. It was as lovely as those your mother wore. By the time I was old enough to take any notice of our clothing, she must have replaced all her fine garments with the simply tailored clothes we traded for at village fairs.”

Envying Egan’s confident calm, Oriana snuggled against his side. “I never asked Mother a single question about her heritage, and she stressed only that I was Lugh’s daughter and a precious gift to the world.”

“Which you are,” Egan murmured, this time sincere.

Oriana shrugged. “Perhaps, and it was always enough for me, but now that everyone here is so curious about my family, I feel a great fool for not pursuing the issue with my mother while I could. The delicacy of her speech and grace of her manner revealed her to be a lady unlike any we met on our travels, and even if I never sought them out, I do wish I knew who her parents were. I don’t even know if she had brothers or sisters.”

Egan had both arms wrapped around her now, and he rested his cheek against her curls. He had always known exactly who he was and what he was to become, but he could imagine how confused she must be to confront her identity at such a late date.

She was more vulnerable than she had ever been, but the response she aroused within him was anything but protective. He forced himself to breathe in and out in a steady rhythm, but the remainder of his body was not so easily controlled. She was trusting him with her thoughts, as he had feared she never would, but he wanted more from her. He waited for some small sign, a plaintive sigh would do, that she would now welcome his affection.

Unfortunately for him, with a sudden hoarse cry Oriana broke free of his grasp. She remained on the bed and knelt to face him. “Who is your worst enemy?” she asked breathlessly.

Furious with himself for not grabbing the opportunity to seduce her before it had been lost, he responded with the first name which came to mind. “Duncan O Floinn.”

“No, you’d never heard of the man before you met me. Who has your family battled for generations? Who were you raised to despise?”

There was a wild light in her amber eyes, and Egan dared not gaze too deeply before he leaned close and murmured, “We’ve fought the O Loegaire, but not since I was a lad. My father was not only adept in battle, but also at avoiding a foolish fight neither side could win.”

“Did he make the O Loegaire welcome here?”

Egan scoffed at that notion. “No, of course not. They are enemies still and always will be, but with equal strength there’s no gain for either side if we must fight to the last man.”

Oriana paused for a moment to listen to the steady beat of rain against the fortress’s thick stone walls. There was a distant rumble of thunder as the storm retreated. She could not bear to look at Egan and focused instead on her hands.

“If as I believe, my presence here has created the very danger you wished to avoid, then it is certain my mother’s people were the O Loegaire.”

Egan stared at her, as though a search of her sweet features would provide damning evidence, but all he saw was the fascinating young woman he wanted for his own. “In all my travels, I’ve met only a few O Loegaire. They were handsome brutes, with hair as red as yours, but that proves nothing. If you wish, I’ll send Albyn to find a bard or Druid who knows their history. If one of their women vanished without a trace, it will be remembered.”

“No!” Oriana cried. “You must not make any inquires on my behalf. My mother never regretted forsaking her family for Lugh, and I’ll not dishonor her memory by going back.”

Egan rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Now you’re making no sense at all, Oriana.” He rolled off the bed to add a log to the fire, but quickly returned to the warm tangle of furs. “Even if it were discovered you’re the granddaughter of the king of the O Loegaire, no harm would come to me. In fact, you’d be a valuable hostage should one be needed, and enhance rather than damage my reign.”

“You understand nothing,” Oriana scolded.

“Aye, that’s certainly true where you’re concerned, but you need have no fear that you’ll destroy me. Now get back under the furs so that we might sleep a while before the morning’s hunt.”

Oriana held her breath for a long moment but finally found the courage to inquire, “Don’t you understand how easily a woman can destroy a man?”

She was a creature of many moods, none amorous, he feared, but her question was impossible to turn aside. He coaxed her with a careless gesture. “Come back to me, and I’ll welcome the risk. I don’t care what Lugh might have planned for you. You shall be mine.”

Oriana had lived on her own too long to doubt her own courage, and there was no mistaking his; but to blatantly scorn the gods was to invite such horrible disasters that she dared not even imagine them for fear of hastening their arrival. And yet, how she longed to throw herself into Egan’s waiting arms!

Egan could almost hear her grappling with what he hoped was temptation, and just as he did in battle, he seized the advantage. With a quick lunge, he grabbed her shoulders and in one deft motion rolled her beneath him. He was so drunk with desire he longed to ravish her and argue about it later, but doubting such an argument would ever end, he fought to keep a painful check on his emotions. He kissed only her fluttering eyelids and then propped himself on his elbows and smiled.

What Oriana truly feared was that they were damned no matter what choice they made. The gods had the power to bewitch as well as destroy, and she felt incapable of outsmarting such clever beings. Egan, of course, harbored no doubts whatsoever. She envied him the ability to take what he wanted without the fear of dire consequences, but it was far too great a leap for her.

“I’ve never had a suitor,” she confessedly shyly.

Her remark was so completely unexpected that Egan barely caught himself before laughing out loud. Grateful to have avoided unwittingly humiliating her, he slid his lips tenderly over hers. “You do now.”

“It would appear,” Oriana agreed, “but you are far too forward, my lord.”

“A king is expected to be bold,” Egan exclaimed before kissing the tip of her dainty nose.

Oriana reached up to brush his hair from his eyes. “Whom did your father tell you to wed?”

In truth, the selection of his future bride had been the subject of many amusing conversations, but that Cadell would never know the lovely lass in his arms filled Egan with a profound sense of loss. That he had so recently sworn never to want the woman who had kept him from his father’s bedside struck a particularly discordant note. His chest tightened with an anguished sorrow, and while he still wanted Oriana, he moved aside to gently cradle her head upon his shoulder.

Robbed of his warmth and strength, Oriana knew she had only herself to blame. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned your father at such an inappropriate time.”

“No, you needn’t apologize. I don’t want him to be forgotten.”

Certain he was merely being polite, Oriana settled into his embrace. For a few precious moments, she had felt adored, but by mentioning Cadell she had stupidly inflicted needless suffering. She had such little experience at pleasing men that surely nothing would ever run smoothly for them. Egan’s swift downturn of mood served to confirm her decision to leave the fortress on the morrow.

“Cadell would not have approved of me either,” she murmured absently.

“Not only would he have approved,” Egan teased, “he would probably have insisted on your spending our wedding night with him. It is a king’s right.”

“What?” Oriana sat up with a start. “Oh, I’ve heard there’s such a custom, but no king would treat his son that badly, would he?”

Intrigued by her question, Egan propped his head on his hands. “Would that be treating only me badly? Would you welcome the opportunity to make love with another man first?”

“First?” Oriana mimicked. “I don’t recall agreeing to make love with you.”

“And yet we’re discussing how you might have spent our wedding night?” His earlier hesitance forgotten, Egan began to laugh at the absurdity of her complaint. “My father never took another man’s bride, nor will I, but there is no pleasing you, Oriana.”

“Nor you either, my lord,” Oriana was quick to respond, but she had not meant to sadden him and was enormously relieved to hear him laugh. Turning away, she yanked a pelt up to her chin and tried to sleep, but she missed the comfort of his warm shoulder and wished there might have been a different end to their final night together.

The next morning, Egan waited until he was ready to leave his chamber before waking Oriana. She was curled amidst the furs like some hibernating forest creature and sleeping so soundly he had to shake her shoulder twice.

“Come, my beauty, the pheasant are waiting.”

Oriana opened one eye to peer up at him. He had rolled back the tapestry covering the windows, and the chamber was aglow with the pale rosy light of dawn. She covered a noisy yawn and snuggled deeper into the furs.

“I wish you great success. I’ll sleep until your return.”

Egan rested his fists on his hips, but quickly decided he dared not leave her alone in a household filled with curious strangers. He again leaned down to grasp her shoulder and this time was insistent.

“You’re coming with me. Get up and dress while I fetch our breakfast. I’ll not allow you to go another hour without eating.”

Oriana raised her palms to muffle a second wide yawn. She had meant to feign sleep, but truly was too tired to move. “I don’t believe I slept at all last night. Please, hunt with your friends and leave me to my dreams.”

Her eyes fell closed as though he had granted her request, but Egan quickly scooped her up into his arms and then nearly tossed her into the air. “Wake up. It isn’t like you to lie in bed. I want you to see the hawks and tell me if any resemble the one your mother owned.”

Oriana slid her arms around his neck to hold on. Freshly shaven, his cheeks were so smooth, she could not resist the impulse to caress him with her fingertips. “It was too long ago. Please let me sleep.”

Her touch was featherlight, but she was fondling him nevertheless. It was a victory, although a small one. “If you’d rather, I’ll cancel the hunt and stay here in bed with you,” he offered.

Oriana watched his smile slide into such an enticing grin, there was no mistaking his intentions. “Is that my only choice, to be with you either in or out of bed?”

Egan laughed. “It’s still a choice, my lady, and I urge you to make it before I drop you. I should hate to see you too badly bruised to sit a horse.”

“You would never drop me,” Oriana replied.

Her voice was low, softly confident, and for an instant, Egan felt as though she could see into his soul. Though it was flattering to learn he had finally won her trust, the knowledge held a chill of danger. He wanted to drop her then, if only on the fur-cushioned bed, but his arms refused to release her.

No one had called him a fool this time, but he felt one all the same. He carefully placed Oriana on her little bare feet and with a forced bow backed away. “I promised breakfast,” he announced firmly, and swiftly left the chamber.

Deeply puzzled as to what had just transpired, Oriana thoughtfully reviewed their brief conversation as she bathed with the jug of water Egan had thoughtfully left warming on the hearth. Had she not known him better, she would have sworn fear had driven him away, but that was too absurd a notion to entertain.

Surely he had only been too hungry to tease her any further, but as she dressed, she began to wonder if perhaps he would be sufficiently distracted during the hunt to allow her to ride away. It was a possibility at least, and if the chance came, she vowed not to waste it.

When they reached the bailey, Oriana found not Brute, a horse she would have felt justified in taking, but a small gray mare Egan had chosen. “What a pretty little horse,” she exclaimed.

“If she pleases you, consider her a present,” Egan responded, but after assisting her onto the mare’s back, he quickly turned away.

Now convinced something truly was amiss, Oriana watched with a wary eye as Egan gave the final instructions to the boy who would carry the cadge, the wooden platform on which four magnificent hooded birds rested. Three were large gyrfalcons and the fourth a smaller peregrine.

More than a dozen young men were gathered for the hunt, as well as several guards who handled the hounds, but Oriana wondered about the absence of Bevan and his sons. She searched for Kieran, but when he and Egan got along so poorly, she supposed he had preferred to remain in bed. There were no other women present, but she received polite nods in greeting as though she were welcome.

As they left the fortress, Egan and Albyn closed in beside her and she soon gave up any hope of slipping away unnoticed. The morning air was crisp and cool, fine for hunting from what she overheard of the men’s conversation. The hunting dogs would flush the pheasant from their nests in the grass, and they trotted along seemingly as eager to hunt as the men.

“You’re very quiet,” Albyn observed.

“I didn’t rest well,” Oriana replied.

Egan glanced past her to catch Albyn’s eye. “You needn’t smirk. She’s complaining about the storm, not my attentions.”

Any young woman should have been happy with such attentive male company, but Oriana’s mind wandered as Albyn and Egan continued to exchange teasing barbs. The mare had a smooth gait, but she was still uncomfortable. She slid her free hand over Adelaine’s wooden beads and wondered if she had ridden over the same trail.

“This meadow will do,” Egan suddenly announced, and as the others drew to a halt, he slid from Raven’s back to pluck Oriana from her mare. He offered a heavily padded gauntlet. “Would you like to cast one of the birds, or merely watch?”

Still perplexed by her memory-laden dream, Oriana shook her head. “I’ll be content to watch, my lord.”

Egan slid his left hand into the glove. He waited for the cadge boy to place the cadge on the ground and then bent down to unfasten the leash holding his favorite bird. He lifted her easily, then took a firm grip on the belled jesses tied to her legs. He turned to face her into the wind, and she flexed her wings.

He removed the falcon’s hood, allowing the bird to peer at Oriana with its large dark eyes. “Is this the type of falcon your mother owned?”

She was a beauty, but smaller than what Oriana remembered. “I was very young, so it’s difficult to tell.”

“Perhaps seeing her fly will refresh your memory.” Egan called to his companions. “I’ll send my bird out first, then the rest of you will have a chance. Release the dogs.”

Set free, the spotted dogs leaped and barked as they rushed into the grassy meadow and immediately sent a pheasant fluttering into the air. Egan relaxed his hold on the jesses and cast his gyrfalcon aloft. She streaked away, her wings a graceful bow as she climbed high.

Fascinated, Oriana stood quietly by Egan’s side as they watched the falcon circle overhead to gain the necessary altitude to swoop down for the kill. Then from out of nowhere came a second and much larger falcon. It climbed with Egan’s female, then flew in close to catch a clawed foot, and with wings aflutter, the two birds spun together in a tight spiral.

Oriana reached for Egan’s arm. “Are they fighting?”

“No, he wants to mate with her, but I’ve never seen a male grow to that size.”

“Neither have I,” Albyn agreed, as did the men who closed ranks behind them.

The pheasant forgotten, the falcons continued their slow graceful descent until level with the adjacent treetops. Then the male released the female and soared toward the sun. Blinded by the light, all had to look away, but when they dared scan the sky, the male had vanished without a trace, and Egan’s female had brought the pheasant to earth unobserved.

The knowing spoke to Oriana clearly then, and she looked up at Egan with a radiant smile. “That was the falcon my mother owned.”

Egan cautiously turned his back toward Albyn. “Lugh cloaked in feathers?” he whispered.

“Did you hear that too?” Oriana asked excitedly.

“No, I simply saw it in your face.” Egan again glanced toward the heavens, but found only the clear azure sky. “What does it mean?”

Oriana considered it a sign that she had neither been forgotten nor abandoned. It had been an astonishing sight, and over far too swiftly. “It has to be a good omen. Now, shouldn’t you fetch your bird before she leaves nothing of the pheasant but a pile of feathers?”

Egan squeezed her hands in a gesture that made it clear he would have more to say later. “Aye, my lady. She’s been taught to expect a nice piece of meat in exchange for her efforts, and I’d hate to disappoint her.”

Oriana remained where she stood as Egan strode off through the meadow. She could feel the weight of Albyn’s glance, but was too elated to care. “It’s been many years since I’ve watched such a hunt, but it’s wonderfully exciting, isn’t it?”

Her eyes were aglow with a striking brilliance, and she was so beautiful Albyn found it difficult not to stare. “The wild falcon was huge, like nothing I’ve ever seen. You described your mother as being as gentle as her name. Did she truly own such a fierce predator?”

Oriana shrugged demurely. “Childhood memories are often vivid, but sometimes inaccurate. Perhaps she had only a pet sparrow.”

“I doubt that, my lady.” He raised a hand to cover a yawn. “Forgive me. I did not sleep well either.”

Oriana thought better of discussing how each had slept, but she was enjoying the morning more than she had thought possible. The sun lent Egan’s hair a glossy blue sheen, and striding through the meadow with his gyrfalcon on his arm, he was breathtakingly handsome. It was a memory she longed to keep, but as they neared the fortress on their return, she grew alarmed.

“Where’s the guard?” she asked anxiously.

Undaunted, Egan rode on through the gate, but he swiftly drew Raven to a halt, for it appeared his whole family had gathered in the bailey to await his return. Their expressions were darkly forbidding rather than welcoming, and grasping for a necessary advantage, he remained seated astride his stallion. When Garrick left the crowd to approach him, he swore under his breath.

“How good of you to make such a swift return,” the Druid greeted him.

“Was there some doubt that I wouldn’t?” Egan replied.

Garrick laughed and gestured toward the waiting crowd. “You have wandered in the past, and the habit has inspired a challenge.”

Egan sent Albyn a quick sidelong glance, but his old friend just shook his head, clearly as dumbfounded as he. “What sort of challenge?” he asked.

Kieran broke free of the crowd to approach his half brother. “There are those who believe that I’d make the better king.”

“You?” Egan responded incredulously. He thrust his chin toward the crowd. “Do you need our whole clan for the courage to confront me?”

“I need no one but you, and I demand the ancient trials.”

Egan shook his head sadly. “You are no match for me.”

“The trials will prove who’s fit to be king. Let them begin.”

Egan regarded Garrick with a menacing glance. “This is your doing. Do you really want Kieran’s blood on your hands?”

Garrick slid those same pale hands into his flowing sleeves. “Once made, a challenge can not be refused. Do you wish to begin now, or do you require a day to prepare?”

Oriana said a silent prayer that he would demand at least a day for whatever the ancient trials entailed, but just as she had feared, Egan threw his leg over his saddle and jumped to the ground.

“I’ll not waste another minute,” he shouted. “Let the trials begin.”

Oriana had seen Egan fight and was confident he would win, but she hated for it to come at the cost of his brother’s life. She searched above for a sign Lugh was still near, but the cloudless sky was unnaturally still, and her heart beat louder than the restless crowd’s murmurs.

Chapter Eleven

“Wait, my lord!” Garrick shouted.

Egan turned but continued to back away toward the fortress. “Has Kieran withdrawn his challenge?”

“No. I wish only to remind you that if the man who triumphs is himself severely wounded, he will forfeit all hope of becoming king.” Garrick paused to shift his icy gaze toward Albyn. “Should it be necessary to end a wounded man’s suffering, I will hand Albyn the ritual dagger.”

Egan accepted Garrick’s conditions with a careless shrug, but Oriana was horrified. She watched the color fade beneath Albyn’s deep tan, and knew he was equally sickened by Garrick’s threat.

“Can’t you stop this?” she begged.

Unable to meet her anguished gaze, Albyn drew in a ragged breath. “Unless Egan steps aside to allow Kieran to rule in his place, which he will never do, the challenge must proceed.”

Desperate for help, Oriana’s glance swept the restive crowd, and she swiftly took note of the many dark-robed Druids. Their spacing was curiously even and formed as well-ordered a pattern as a clan’s plaid. Noting the watchful glances passing between them, she thought it more likely they were there to incite trouble than to prevent it.

Unlike last night, she was the lone woman present. Where were Ula, Madi, and all their pretty relatives now? she wondered. Were they napping to restore their beauty? Were they bathing in water scented with perfumed oils? Could they be plaiting their hair with flowers? Perhaps their absence merely foretold the bloodshed she had been unable to predict.

Without so much as a wave for her, Egan had entered the fortress, but Kieran stood rooted in place, hands clasped behind his back. Even turned at an angle, he bore an eerie resemblance to his elder brother. Oriana thought it a great pity their hearts held no similar accord.

“Where has Egan gone?” she whispered anxiously.

“To fetch his weapons,” Albyn replied, “but the challenger has the first choice.”

“Did Cadell have to fight for the right to rule?”

“No. There’s not a man living today who’s actually witnessed a challenge, but we’ve all heard tales of the trials. They can continue for days, but a man need only win two of the three to become king.”

Oriana shivered despite the sun’s warmth. Her borrowed cloak was scented with the mare’s sweat and created a bitter reminder of how eager she had been to disappear astride Brute. What if she had succeeded in leaving Egan that morning, and then learned weeks later that he had died in a challenge that very afternoon? Even now, if he were distracted for the instant Kieran would surely seize to kill him, she would blame herself.

“There must be something we can do,” she implored Albyn.

Albyn responded with an angry sneer. “Was it only last night that I begged you for the truth? If you wish to lend Egan your support, then summon the proud family you refuse to name.”

He urged the gray gelding toward the stable, and while dizzy with fear, Oriana followed. When she reached the mare’s stall, a stable boy helped her to dismount and offered a steadying arm. She thanked him, then hurried to Albyn’s side.

“I’ll accept whatever anger you wish to heap upon me, but I truly am an orphan without family to call.” When with a disgusted snort he failed to slow his exit from the stable, she yanked on his wide sleeve. “How could all of Egan’s kin have turned against him in the space of a morning?”

It was an excellent question, and Albyn halted to respond before he thought better of speaking where they could be overheard. Instead, he took Oriana’s hand and, circling the crowd, led her across the bailey into the fortress. The stark entryway was empty, but he still took the precaution of moving close and dropped his voice to a husky whisper.

“It’s obvious they can’t have turned on Egan so quickly,” he swore. “Support for Kieran must have been building since Cadell’s death, or he’d not have dared issue a challenge.”

“Backed by Ula and her family?” Convinced he would not speak against a fellow Druid, she dared not include the hateful Garrick and his brother, Skell.

Before Albyn could reply, Egan left the great hall with his sword in hand. A string of guards followed carrying spears, battle-axes, and shields. He took one look at Oriana huddled in Albyn’s arms and stopped so abrutly that the trailing guards had to veer away to avoid a disastrous collision.

“Do you think so little of my chances that you’ve already sought the protection of another man?” Egan asked incredulously.

Not trusting the guards to be loyal, Oriana rushed toward him, took hold of his tunic, and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “We’ve no time to waste with such ridiculous accusations. I’ve no idea how a challenge is run, but it would be a grave error to kill Kieran. Please promise to let him live.”

Egan was as amazed by that absurd demand as he had been to find her in Albyn’s arms. “Have you forgotten that he’s the one who issued the challenge? He’s intent upon killing me.”

“Yes, I understand, but you’ll surely win, and then I beg you to spare your brother’s life.”

Egan’s expression remained darkly forbidding. “In your wildest imaginings, do you actually believe he would spare mine?”

Oriana knew he was right, but it did not serve to lessen her panic. “Probably not, but you’re the better man and can do more heroic things.”

Confused and yet strangely flattered, Egan simply stared at her. Since the hour they had met, she had predicted only death and doom, and yet his heart leapt with the hope that she at last had an uplifting prophecy. Eager for that blessing, he began to smile.

“Have you a good reason to let him live?”

Oriana clung to him as she searched for a means to convince him to obey her without any proof other than her own abiding sense that he must. Only one possibility came to mind, and without weighing the consequences, she quickly made an extravagant offer.

“Because I’m convinced what I suggest is right, I’ll make another bargain with you.”

Egan could feel the guards behind him straining to hear, while Albyn stood with bowed head as though he cared not what was being said. However, Egan was certain his friend was hanging on their every word. This was a far more dangerous conversation than Oriana realized, but he felt compelled to continue.

As he saw it, while vague, her earlier prophecy had been damnably accurate, but he was not inclined to offer anything more than he already had. He slid his arm around her waist and gently set her aside. “To strike a new bargain, you’d have to have something I want.”

Oriana was painfully aware of that, but she was convinced her virtue was a small price to pay for Kieran’s life. “Yes,” she countered, the decision she had never thought she would reach arrived at in an instant. “There is one thing.”

She was studying his reaction with such wide-eyed calm that for a moment Egan could not believe she was sincere. Suspecting a trick, he whispered, “You’ll be my mistress; but what are your conditions?”

Delighted he was behaving in such a reasonable manner, an impish joy lit her smile. “You must allow Kieran to live, and you’ll also have to survive the challenge yourself, won’t you?”

That she had the gall to tease him so amused Egan that for a brief moment he forgot why there was a sword in his hand. “Kiss me for luck.”

He bent down to make it easy for her, and she slid her arms around his neck. She knew now that she could not have left him, nor would she ever wish to. She kissed him with a slow, thorough sweetness that he returned with such heated enthusiasm, she again felt unsteady on her feet.

“It is not a mistress I want,” he breathed out against her slightly parted lips, “but a wife.”

He was gone and her way blocked by the exiting guards before she could argue that what he asked could never be. He was so damn clever, and while he had asked her to clarify her bargain, she did not recall hearing his acceptance.

She was frantic, but she had given Egan her word to hold her tongue in front of his kin. Filled with a terrifying sense of impending doom, she could not bring herself to return to the courtyard where all were gathered as though for a bit of sport. When the day could so easily end in a gruesome death for either Egan or Kieran, she had no wish to be a party to the spectacle.

Perhaps her presence had generated some controversy, but she knew Albyn was correct in assuming a challenge required more than the few days she had been in residence to foment. She leaned against the cool stone wall and doubted this horror had anything whatsoever to do with her.

It was not, however, something Egan had brought upon himself with his penchant for travel. This was an insidious plot, and her suspicion Cadell had been poisoned returned in a sickening wave. With her next breath came the stunning knowledge that Adelaine had not fallen to her death in a terrible accident; her untimely death had been part of a much grander plan.

Albyn did not follow the guards, but remained in the entryway with Oriana. She was so lost in thought that his presence went unnoticed, but he studied her with a rapt gaze. Even wearing a preoccupied frown she was lovely, but there had always been something remarkably distant about her. Finally he felt justified in intruding upon her thoughts.

“When I mentioned a magical child named Oriana, I failed to consider that she must now be grown. You do possess the gift of prophecy, don’t you?”

Oriana had completely forgotten about him, and her head came up with a startled snap. “No such gift is required to recognize a king bathed in his brother’s blood will surely have a blighted reign.”

Albyn took a step toward her. “That was not my question.”

Oriana was nearly as frightened as she had been the night he had walked out of the shadows. With no appreciation of the knowing, the Druids would demand she prove her gift, and when she failed their test, they would kill her. Of course, if she did succeed in correctly foretelling the future, they would still put her to death for disproving their supremacy.

“Isn’t one challenge enough for the day?” she asked pointedly.

Albyn’s deep laugh echoed off the cold stone walls. “I’ve no wish to fight you. I merely want the truth.”

“The truth is many things,” Oriana confided softly. “Now, wouldn’t you rather be with Egan? He’s in dire need of a trustworthy friend.”

Albyn glanced toward the doorway. “I’ll stand with him, but now they’ll still be discussing terms. I’d much rather speak with you.”

Oriana, however, had never felt less like talking. “I’d mistaken you for a gentleman who’d not force conversation from an unwilling woman.”

“In the interest of truth, I’ll admit to wanting to force a great deal more, but you are Egan’s lady and worthy of respect.”

Earlier in the day, Oriana would have argued that she was her own woman, but she felt in no way diminished by her latest bargain with Egan. She just wanted him to live to fulfill it. “You must not allow your curiosity about me to distract you from the real issue, which is Egan’s right to rule. Do you know where Adelaine fell to her death? I wish to see it.”

Albyn cocked his head slightly to observe her even more closely. “You give yourself away every time you open that pretty mouth of yours. ‘Do this, do that,’ and you do not even bother to say please.”

Oriana’s nails raked her palms as she folded her hands into tight fists. “I am unused to speaking with anyone, my lord, so you must forgive my lack of manners.”

“I must?” Albyn replied mockingly. “There, you’ve done it again. I’m not your servant, Oriana, no matter how much I’d like to be.”

“You’re flirting with me,” Oriana cried.

Albyn shrugged. “Aye, I’ll not deny it.”

Oriana stepped close and responded in a vicious hiss. “This is neither the time nor the place for such frivolity. Nor am I an appropriate choice for your affections. Now, do you or do you not know where Adelaine stood when she supposedly fell to her death?”

Not in the least bit chastened by her stinging rebuke when it served only to enhance her beauty, Albyn needed a moment to realize what she had actually asked. “By the gods, do you doubt her death was an accident?”

Oriana glanced down a moment. She closed her eyes and drank in the spirit of the cold, dank fortress. Rather than the calm voice of the knowing, she heard the echo of a heartrending scream. She looked up to find Albyn again studying her far too intently.

“There was no inquiry when she died, was there? Not even a thought that her death might have been due to anything other than a tragic misstep? You were a child, as was Egan, but someone here knows the truth.”

“Are you able to see into the past as well as the future?” he murmured in awe.

“I see nothing more than an obstinate Druid who’s blocking my way. You must excuse me, my lord. I need to find the one person who may remember exactly how Adelaine died.”

“Myrna?” he replied. “She’s a dear old woman, but rather forgetful now.”

“She’s not forgotten Adelaine. Now you should be with Egan.”

Albyn shifted his stance to block her way to the winding stairwell. “When we found you on the bluff, you were worried about Kieran even then. Why didn’t you warn Egan that there was treachery afoot?”

Oriana clamped her jaws shut rather than explain she had never been able to see into Egan’s future any better than her own, but until that moment, she had failed to consider that might be precisely why Egan’s path lay shrouded in mystery. Perhaps their destinies were as closely interwoven as the golden threads in an elegant tapestry. That tardy realization only added to her dismay.

She tapped her finger against Albyn’s chest as she scolded, “With your imagination, and claim of fine voice, you ought to create epic poems from your fanciful notions and set them to music. Now you must go before Egan begins to suspect how greatly you’re annoying me with your amorous attentions.”

Albyn caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “You, my lady, are the one possessed of the fine imagination, but because Egan truly does need me, I’ll go. You must heed my warning, however. Unless Egan is by your side to defend you, do not allow your suspicions about Adelaine’s death to go any further.”

Oriana pulled her hand free of his gentle clasp. His hands were warm, his touch pleasant, but it failed to evoke the same tingling thrill as Egan’s slightest caress. “Aye, I recognize the danger. The fortress is rife with it.”

Albyn moved aside to allow her to escape him, but he still feared she posed as great a danger to Egan’s life as Kieran’s challenge.

Egan noted Albyn’s arrival in the bailey with a casually raised brow, but he was disappointed not to find Oriana with him. After issuing such a serious demand, he was puzzled as to why she had not come to watch him make a great show of fighting Kieran without actually killing him. He intended to win the first two challenges. There would be no need of a third.

“You’d do well to emulate Oriana’s single-mindedness,” Albyn cautioned. “Don’t allow your focus to stray.”

Egan nodded grudgingly, but although they were apart, he still felt the haunting beauty’s presence. She lingered not merely in his mind, but in his body with the tenderness of a lover’s caress. He had never become attached to another woman, but Oriana had easily captured his heart.

Kieran was testing the weight of a spear, and Egan gathered his resolve to prod him along with his selection. “Grab whichever one is closest, and let’s hunt wild boar. They’re more dangerous than any man, and much more difficult to kill. It will be a far truer test of our courage than if we were to fight each other.”

That suggestion caught Kieran completely off guard, but after a moment’s pause, the idea took on an immense appeal. Once they left the crowded fortress, the dense forest would provide an abundance of thick cover for an attack. He might even succeed in herding a boar toward Egan. Then he could watch in feigned horror as his half brother was gored by the vicious beast.

“Aye, that’s a splendid idea,” he agreed with a grin, and then, after selecting a spear with a fancy bronze inlay in its iron tip, he gestured toward the stable. “To the horses, then.”

A murmur of confusion rumbled through the crowd, for clearly the whole assembly could not ride out. “Let’s each take a half dozen men,” Egan said.

Kieran responded with a sweeping wave toward their kinsmen. “Can you find that many to side with you?”

“Aye, and a great many more, but six will do for today.”

Albyn feared that might prove an empty boast, but a sufficient number of young men made their way to Egan’s side for him to choose among them. Albyn took note of their families, and just as Oriana had claimed, those with ties to Ula’s clan overwhelmingly backed Kieran, while those more closely related to Cadell stood with Egan. There were powerful families on both sides, but the real battle would still be between sons who had both inherited Cadell’s size and strength.

Albyn whispered a warning. “Keep a closer eye on Kieran than the boar.”

Despite the tension of the morning, Egan laughed. “Aye, I intend to.”

With the imminent approach of autumn, the forest was gloomy and cool. An occasional noisy flurry of crows swept overhead but the hunters were curiously silent. While still within a few yards of each other, Kieran and his men rode to the left; Egan and his followers kept to the right.

Still debating the wisdom of agreeing to Oriana’s plea, Egan made a concerted effort to drink in the calming influence of the woods, but before long, he began to curse his own stupidity in not recognizing the obvious fact of how well the wily Cadell had trained both his sons.

While impetuous in the past, Kieran’s present cautious restraint made it clear he had skillfully mastered their father’s lessons. That made the challenge impossible to dismiss as a tedious chore rather than a sincere attempt to seize power. Egan had been convinced his skills were far superior to his half brother’s, but for the hunt at least, the two young men were apparently an equal match.

An adept observer, Albyn read Egan’s doubts in his slight frown. “You underestimated him, didn’t you?”

Egan always preferred the truth to a lie, but this admission hurt. “Completely,” he murmured.

Nearing the heart of the forest, they left their mounts to continue on foot. Egan plucked a fallen branch from the leaves padding the forest floor and hurled it after his half brother. “This is more time than I’ve spent with him in years,” Egan confided softly.

Albyn might have lost track of Kieran’s age, but his memory was clear on one point. “He idolized you as a lad, but you ignored him.’ Tis no wonder he’s issued a challenge.”

Egan studied the angle of the sun overheard to judge the hour and cursed the day for creeping by much too slowly. He then raised his hand to signal stealth, and his party halted in midstride to listen for the low grunting snort of a boar. All they heard, however, was Kieran’s group filing by on their left.

Egan paused to consider a change of direction, and Albyn again came to his side. Frustrated, Egan spit before voicing his confusion, “I’ll fight Kieran in ways he’s never even heard of, let alone seen, but I can’t understand why it is so important for me to keep him alive.”

Oriana’s desperation had also weighed heavily on Albyn’s mind, but he had come to only one conclusion. “Perhaps there is simply too much of you in Kieran for Oriana to wish him any harm.”

“She is not overly fond of me,” Egan scoffed. “Why should the close resemblance matter?”

Not trusting their lives to the hounds, Albyn squatted down to scan the forest with a watchful eye. Relieved to find no sign of danger, he rose and spoke freely. “I fear you have also badly underestimated Oriana. Such a remarkable young woman would not give her love lightly, and her affection would surely spill over to include Kieran as well.”

Egan longed to accept Albyn’s wild raving as true, but he was reluctant to believe Oriana held any tender feelings for him. “Let us keep our minds on our task,” he grumbled, but with every step, it became increasingly difficult.

Finally, with a great strength of will, he locked the distracting thoughts of Oriana away in his heart. With every step his eagerness for a fight grew, and when a boar suddenly broke from the thicket in a wild, scrambling charge, he was poised for the kill.

Oriana went first to Egan’s chamber, left her cloak, and from there made her way to Adelaine’s room. Just as she had hoped, Myrna was there adding fresh rushes to the floor. The door stood ajar, but not wishing to startle the friendly servant, Oriana rapped lightly.

“Oh, it is you, lass,” Myrna exclaimed. “Is there something you’re needing?” She scattered the last of the rushes and came forward.

Oriana closed the door behind her, and taking Myrna’s tiny hand, led her toward the bed. “Please, sit here with me for a while. I’ve so many questions, and you’re the only one I can ask.”

Myrna blushed with pride, and she swayed a bit, until she was nearly dancing over the carpet of rushes to the bed. “I know so little, but ask whatever you please, and I’ll do my best to answer.”

Oriana waited for the little woman to make herself comfortable before she took her place at her side. “You seem to have such fond memories of Adelaine. If it would not sadden you too greatly, can you tell me how she died?”

Myrna leaned back, and her eyes widened in alarm. As though desperate for courage, she knotted her hands tightly in her lap. “It was all so long ago. Why do you want to go stirring up trouble?”

“She was Egan’s mother,” Oriana stressed, “and my curiosity about her is quite natural. I’d ask Egan, but he was too young to recall the details.”

Already cognizant of that fact, Myrna straightened until her spine was as stiff as a poker. She sat there frozen for an instant, and then a reply burst from her pursed lips. “Aye. I’ve forgotten them too.”

“No, you haven’t, and we’re going to sit right here until you describe in explicit detail exactly how Adelaine met her death.”

Myrna shook her head so violently, the bun atop her head began to list toward her left ear. “No one was there, lass, so the story died with her.”

Myrna was so terribly uneasy, Oriana was certain she knew far more. Egan might be able to force the truth from her, but she doubted he would agree to try. That meant she would have to find the answers on her own.

“Please take me to where Adelaine was standing when she fell. Once I’ve seen it, perhaps I’ll be better able to imagine what happened.”

“Oh, no, I never go up there,” Myrna vowed. “I refuse to make the climb.”

“Up where?” Oriana asked softly.

“Just follow the winding stairs to the top. You’ll come out on the wall walk behind the battlements. It’s windy and cold, so you best wear your heavy cloak.”

Oriana smiled at the motherly advice. “Did Adelaine enjoy strolling the battlements?”

Myrna’s scowl deepened. “No. I never knew her to seek out a chilly wind.”

Encouraged by that aside, Oriana offered another possibility. “Perhaps the magnificent view drew her.” Perhaps due to the depressing nature of their conversation, Oriana shivered from a sudden chill. “What time of day did she fall?”

The need to confide in a sympathetic listener continued to war with Myrna’s natural reserve, and a lengthy silence preceded her reply. “The mists had already drifted down off the mountain, but when I came to help Adelaine dress for the evening meal, her chamber was empty.”

Myrna paused to weigh her every word with care. “She spent many an afternoon with Cadell, or with Egan, so I did not worry until they both came to look for her here.”

“So she may have been missing long before her absence was noted?”

Hot tears stung Myrna’s eyes, and she wiped them away on the hem of her long tunic. “Like as not, she was already dead, my lady, but we searched the whole fortress for her. It wasn’t until dawn that a guard spied her broken body on the rocky cliff bordering the sea.”

The elderly woman raised shaking hands to cover her ears. “I’ll never forget Cadell’s anguished screams. By the time he reached his dear wife’s body, he was all cut and bloody from scrambling down the cliff, but he sat out there all day holding her in his arms. We all feared he would carry her out to sea and drown himself to be with her.”

“Oh, how awful,” Oriana murmured, and she began to pat Myrna’s bony shoulders. “But he lived many more years, so someone must have convinced him to embrace life despite the loss of his beloved wife.”

Briefly, Myrna appeared puzzled, but then she shrugged. “Well, of course you wouldn’t know, but it was Egan who traveled over the rocky cliff with the ease of a crab. He’s the one who led Cadell down to a waiting boat. It broke all our hearts to see him holding his dead mother’s hand as they were rowed around to the bay. He wasn’t more than five years old, but he became a man that day.”

Myrna reached out to touch the wooden beads Oriana wore. “Cadell dropped these around his son’s neck, and they dangled nearly to his knees. He wore them a long while, then packed them away with his mother’s belongings.”

Oriana smoothed her fingertips over the charming necklace. She had been immediately drawn to it, but could that have been a warning she had missed? “Adelaine was wearing these beads when she died?”

“Aye, it was her favorite gift from Cadell. Now I’ve said too much and really must be about my work. There’ll be another feast tonight, and we’re all needed in the kitchen.”

Oriana rose with her, but she tarried in Adelaine’s chamber long after Myrna had gone. In the solitude, far more remained of Egan’s mother than a treasured fragrance. Faint at first, it gradually grew into an unsettling presence that swirled around her, and then drew her to her feet.

Compelled to end her reverie, Oriana fetched her cloak and hurriedly retraced Adelaine’s final journey up the winding stairs.

Upon his return to the fortress, it took Egan a long while to locate Oriana up on the wall walk. She was leaning into a crenellation meant to shield a warrior, and was gazing out toward the sea. The salty breeze had tousled her hair, and as her cloak whipped about her, she resembled some wild spirit fully capable of flight.

“If you’re keeping a vigil for my safe return,” Egan called as he drew near, “you’re facing the wrong direction.”

Oriana looked up at him with a sad, sweet smile, and he slipped behind her to capture her in a tight embrace. He bent slightly to be heard above the wind. “Or were you hiding from me to avoid fulfilling our bargain? Since you neglected to ask, Kieran and I are both alive and fit, but the challenge will continue on the morrow.”

She had been lost in a crime that had gone unpunished, but relaxed against him and dipped her head slightly. A single glance at the waist-high crenellations was proof Adelaine could not possibly have slipped and fallen through one. There was no doubt her body had been found on the rocks below, but that meant she must have climbed through the crenellation and jumped, or far more likely, been hurled to her death by someone with the strength to carry out the ghastly deed.

Either was such a sickening possibility that she dared not share her suspicions with Egan. Not yet, at least. Not while his life remained at risk.

He was the elder brother, a proven warrior, and logic gave him the clear edge whether the challenge lasted mere days or weeks. She did not want to delay taking him for a lover though, and turned slowly in his arms. “I came up here to avoid not you, but all the others,” she stated convincingly.

“Rather than feel faint with worry, I’ve watched the sea, but now that you’re home, I want to hear all about the day’s challenge.” He had bathed and dressed in clean clothing, and she splayed her fingertips through the soft curls at his nape. “I wasn’t certain you’d accepted my bargain.”

Egan kissed her very lightly, and when she clung to him, he kissed her again. “Aye, I agreed, but we failed to work out the necessary details.”

“There are none,” Oriana assured him. “I trust you to spare Kieran’s life, and I am yours.”

Her slight smile was enchanting, but Egan still suspected she was up to some clever trick. “You are the greater challenge,” he swore with a laugh that caught on the wind. “But come with me now, and I’ll see you safely down the steep stairs.”

Oriana grasped his hand, but to follow him now would provide only a respite from danger, not a true escape.

Chapter Twelve

Sunlight flowed through the narrow slits in the thick stone walls and sent honeyed beams dancing over the flying folds of Egan’s cloak as he rushed Oriana down the winding steps. His resonant laughter echoed all around them, and when they burst into his corridor, he scooped her up into his arms.

Oriana raised her hands to encircle his neck and laughed with him. “You needn’t carry me. I’m content to accompany you.”

“Aye, that may be, my lady, but how far?” he teased.

It was Oriana who reached out to unlatch his door, but rather than set her on her feet, Egan kicked the door shut, went straight to his bed, and sat down with her cradled upon his lap. He longed to say that it mattered not why she had made a bargain that gave him exactly what he wanted, but even gazing into her warm golden eyes, he remained suspicious of her motives and terrified that she would change her mind.

“You’re a remarkable woman, and you’ve offered me something of great value, but the cost is extremely high.”

Oriana feared he had not accepted her bargain after all and pulled away, but when Egan refused to slacken his hold, she ceased to struggle. “I’m not selling myself to you.”

“Oh, but you are, and the price is my half brother’s life. I just don’t understand why you’re so desperate to save him.”

Oriana rested her forehead against his for a moment. His hair was still damp and his skin scented with soap. “He’s not the one I hope to save,” she explained softly. “It’s not the knowing that has convinced me of this, but simply my heart. Please believe me when I say that one day Kieran will be a staunch ally in a time of great need. That’s why he must survive the challenge.”

Egan was reluctant to concede the point, but while she might deny it, he was struck by the hint of prophecy in her heartfelt plea. At the same time, he wondered if she could see into the longings of his own heart, but as yet unwilling to declare himself, he wisely chose not to inquire.

“So I am simply to trust you and spare Kieran’s life now to safeguard my own in the future?” he asked. Before she could reply, he captured her hand and drew her index finger into his mouth to savor her taste. He had slept with many women, but never truly made love to one. Now he wished to take his time and explore every luscious aspect of Oriana’s fair beauty. Unfortunately circumstances made such a lengthy indulgence impossible.

He placed a tender kiss in her palm, and then murmured, “I wish we were still in the forest.”

Oriana thought him very clever for sidestepping her request but was as reluctant as he to waste time in argument. Instead she wove the fingers of her free hand through his glossy hair and was amazed at what a sensual delight the simple gesture brought. For so long, she had deliberately kept her distance to avoid touching him. Now it was difficult to accept the incredible pleasure their closeness brought.

“I’ll tell you in which forest I live and describe exactly where,” she promised. “You could visit me there.”

“Visit?” Egan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone was softly confident, his words a solemn vow. “You’ll not leave me, Oriana; not when the challenge is finished, not ever. You’ll live with me here, always.”

He had sworn he wanted a wife rather than a mistress, but she dared not even dream of marriage when she would bring nothing to their union save love. His need for powerful allies would eventually force them apart, and she did not want to leave alone. The longing for a child was too sad a desire to voice, however, and again avoiding conflict she leaned close, framed his face with her hands, and kissed him deeply.

While Egan was certain she had never kissed another man, he was astonished by how quickly she had learned to caress his lips and tongue with her own. Her taste was intoxicating, and her soft sighs so seductive that he fell back on the bed with her still clasped in his arms. Then, without loosening his adoring embrace, he rolled over and propped himself on his elbows to capture her beneath him.

Oriana gazed up at him, her expression filled with wonder. A yearning for more of him ached within her, but she was puzzled by how quickly he had become so dear. Despite their constant discord, had her initial appreciation of his wickedly endearing smile simply deepened into sincere affection? Or was love merely a possibility she had welcomed when she had followed him into the fortress?

Giving up the effort to trace the origin of desire when no other option now remained open, she licked her lips to invite another kiss. “I was raised to live in the Otherworld,” she confessed shyly. “But now, I cannot even imagine a life without you.”

Recalling how swiftly she had bolted from his embrace in the past, Egan was sorely tempted to peel off her sweetly scented garments and take her as his wife before she had time to regret her choice; but she deserved far more in the way of tender consideration. It was that certainty alone that enabled him to exercise restraint.

“I want to make love to you until you can’t tell night from day,” he confided, “but the dangers of abandoning ourselves in each other are too great. We must wait until after I’ve won the last challenge.”

Oriana traced the firm outline of his jaw with her fingertips. “You’re very strong. Is making love so very strenuous?”

“The way I want to make love with you, it most certainly is.” He nuzzled her throat to muffle the laughter he could not contain.

Amused rather than insulted, Oriana snuggled against him. She could feel the whole hard length of him pressed against her thigh, and knew while he might not be willing, he was most definitely able. She slipped her hand down between them to stroke him gently.

“Oriana,” Egan scolded, more shocked than angered by the boldness of her touch. He quickly captured her hands and held them pinned above her head in a firm grasp. Her long sleeves lay bunched against her arms, and holding her with one hand, he leaned down to lick the smooth, pale skin of her inner elbow.

“You’ve turned into a demanding vixen, and while I welcome the change, for the time being, you mustn’t tease me.”

Oriana rolled her hips to caress him with her whole body. “I’m not teasing.”

Egan shifted his weight in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue her amorous antics, but she had him throbbing with desire. “You’ve no idea what you’re doing to me,” he moaned.

“I want only to love you,” she insisted in an inviting whisper, “not exhaust you and endanger your life.”

That she would ever wish, or need, to seduce him had seemed an impossibility, but Oriana parted her lips and hungrily welcomed so many deep kisses she swiftly lost count. Egan kept a tight hold on her wrists, but she thought he was weakening until he paused to allow them both a chance to breathe.

Already lost in her, Egan shook his head to clear it. He stubbornly refused to admit defeat. Instead, he released her and hurriedly got to his feet. “If I don’t live through the challenges with you in my bed, the fault will be entirely yours. But I won today and provided a fine boar for tonight’s feast.”

His passionate kisses had left her slightly dazed, and unable to sit up, she stretched languidly and propped her head on her elbow. “When did you find the time to hunt?”

Her windblown hair tumbling over her shoulders and her kiss-swollen lips were almost more than Egan could bear to admire from afar. Turning away, he removed his cloak and folded it atop one of the large wooden chests lining the walls.

“Kieran wished to fight with spears, but I’ve been in real battle and would have beaten him so easily that I convinced him to hunt boar instead. I made the first kill, so I won the day.”

“Egan, look at me,” Oriana ordered with the snap of her old fire.

Recognizing that imperious tone all too well, Egan turned on his heel, but cautiously kept his distance. “Aye, my lady?”

“On the morrow, do you choose the trial?”

It was still too difficult to gaze her way and think, so he began to pace. “In the time I spent searching the fortress for you this afternoon, I decided to continue the effort to best him, as I did today, in ways that do not require us to turn weapons against each other. Mount Royal is a difficult climb, so I may issue that challenge.”

Greatly intrigued, Oriana felt sufficiently restored to sit up and kneel upon the bed with her hands resting lightly on her knees. “Can you climb it?”

“I have, and once while quite drunk.” He chuckled at the memory, but not at how foolish the adventure had been. “I’ll be sober tomorrow.” He paused so she would fully appreciate his words. “And let’s hope you’ll not leave me completely exhausted either.”

Oriana watched his smile glide into a sly smirk and hoped he meant what she thought he did. “You’ll not insist upon waiting until the end of the challenge? You want to make love to me tonight?”

Egan rested his hands on his hips. “I long to make love to you this very instant, but then neither of us would care to attend tonight’s feast, and I absolutely refuse to provide Kieran with another opportunity to plot against me.”

His intimidating size and strength merely tantalized her now, but her shoulders slumped at the thought of another meal with a lively horde of his relatives. “You are right, of course, but why must I go? I thought only men were invited to feasts.”

“On a ceremonial occasion that’s true, but this is merely a meal with a great many guests, and I want you there with me.” Egan’s expression was as deeply determined as his words. “You must understand that your company, whenever I desire it, is a crucial part of our bargain.”

What Oriana understood was that she had offered the bargain without any conditions, but obviously he had at least this one. Knowing him, she expected he would make up whatever stipulation chanced to please him. She let her tangled curls fall over her eyes to hide her dismay but could not stifle an anxious sigh.

“It will take me a while to comb out my hair and dress, but my appearance is scarcely the problem. What worries me is that I can’t recall the names of your kin, or how closely they are related.”

Readily appreciating just how little she would enjoy the evening, Egan came near to take her hands and lifted her off the bed. “No one will expect you to remember all the names. I’ll simply introduce everyone again and mention whether they are cousin or uncle. If anything, people will regard me as forgetful rather than you.”

Doubting they would be so charitable, Oriana looked down at her feet, caught a glimpse of the toes of his mother’s shoes, and feared she might miss the one person it was imperative to remember. If Adelaine had been murdered to create an opening for Ula to become Cadell’s wife, then surely many in Ula’s family knew of the deed, and they would undoubtedly protect the dark secret with their lives.

This was still not the time to burden Egan with her suspicions, and she chose to confide another logical, if entirely imaginary, reason for any nervousness she would surely display. “I’m so fearful that I’ll say or do the wrong thing, and then you’re the one who’ll be punished.”

Egan studied her expression a long moment, but while convinced she was being forthright, he had to scoff. “Yet with little hesitation, you demanded that I slay Duncan,” he chided. “Where was such charming concern for me then, my dearest?”

Deeply ashamed to have once valued her own life more highly than his, Oriana remembered their original bargain all too well. Sincerely contrite, she spoke in an anguished whisper. “I am so very sorry. It was unforgivable of me.”

Touched, Egan raised her chin with his fingertips. “Nonetheless, I will forgive you, if you’ll forgive me for allowing Duncan to limp away with his life.” He kissed her gently, then ran his hands up and down her arms in a warmly encouraging caress.

Oriana enjoyed his embrace, but she suddenly felt dizzy, as if a jealous god had again grabbed for her. She had to slip her arms around his waist and cling to him for support. Damn the Otherworld! She would not leave Egan until she absolutely had to go.

Alarmed by the strength of her embrace, he smoothed her hair away from her face. “Oriana, are you ill?”

“Merely light-headed,” she lied. “Perhaps because I can’t seem to eat here.”

Egan immediately blamed himself for not taking better care of her and guided her back to his bed. “Sit down. I’ll fetch your brush and untangle your curls. Then while you dress, I’ll bring some bread and cheese to take the edge off your hunger. At tonight’s feast, I’ll be awarded the champion’s portion of the boar, and you’ll share it with me.”

“Aye, my lord, as you wish,” Oriana promised, but when he leaned down to kiss her, she lost what little interest she’d had in food.

Once dressed and fortified with bread and cheese, Oriana took Egan’s arm as they left his chamber. “This morning, Albyn guessed who I really am. Did he tell you?”

“No, he lacked the time.”

“That’s our problem too, isn’t it?” Oriana teased.

Egan patted her hand. “We’ll eat quickly and see that the wine is poured freely. With the promise of another challenge, everyone will be as eager as we are to get to bed early.”

Oriana regarded him with mock dismay. “Oh, I doubt that, my lord.”

That she could now be so hungry for his loving filled him with wonder; he began to worry that she might expect more than he could possibly provide. He had not once worried about disappointing any other woman, but none had been as dear to him as Oriana. Believing such a delicate subject was best left until they could investigate it fully, he gave her an enthusiastic kiss and again led the way down the stairs.

When they reached the great hall, Oriana coiled her arm tightly around Egan’s to draw upon his strength. She focused her attention upon remembering names, but at the same time, she took care not to look at anyone directly and arouse suspicion about her unusual eyes.

She was still horribly uncomfortable to be the object of so much curiosity, but then she had never anticipated spending so many hours surrounded by mortals who despised her. Sustained by Egan’s presence, she was able to affect a confidence she did not feel, but she was surprised to receive many welcoming smiles among the puzzled frowns.

What sparked her curiosity, however, was how Madi, rather than being pressed against Kieran that night, stood sulking beside her father, Skell. The more Oriana saw of the man, the more he resembled Garrick, whom she watched move through the crowded hall with stealth.

“Something’s come between Madi and Kieran,” Oriana whispered on their way from one cluster of cousins to the next. “What can it be?”

“How should I know?” Egan joked. “Neither confides in me, but if a quarrel will serve to distract him, so much the better.”

“I fear I distract you,” Oriana whispered.

“Terribly, and it’s all I can do not to ravish you right here in front of everyone.”

Albyn approached in time to overhear Egan’s last remark, and he swiftly took Oriana’s side. “While such a barbaric display would undoubtedly enhance your reputation, my lord, it would irrevocably damage your lady’s, so I must advise against it.”

“I need no advice where Oriana’s welfare is concerned,” Egan countered almost too sharply.

As the two friends began an exchange of good-natured barbs, Oriana gazed out over the great hall. While she knew it was foolhardy, she attempted to envision the reception she would receive in five years, or ten, or even twenty when her sons’ laughter would mingle with the other young men’s. She had a lively imagination, but such promising images refused to come clear. Perhaps that meant she would have only daughters whom Egan would forbid to attend such boisterous feasts.

Or, as she feared, she had no real future there with Egan. Her thoughts strayed to Adelaine, and she squeezed Egan’s arm. “I don’t recall meeting any of your mother’s people. Are any here tonight?”

With a height advantage over most of the men in the hall, Egan made a quick survey. “My uncle Yowan is standing near the hearth. Do you see anyone else, Albyn?”

Albyn studied Oriana rather than the crowd. Puzzled by her interest, he appeared slightly perplexed. “I spoke with Yowan earlier, and both his sons are here with him. If there are any others, I’ve not seen them.”

Oriana waited until Egan had satisfied himself no one else had been overlooked. “May I meet them, please?”

Egan was grateful she was not the same completely disinterested beauty he had escorted the previous evening, he broke into a broad smile. “I shall be happy to introduce you to whomever you choose, but I must warn you that Yowan loves nothing more than the sound of his own voice, and his sons are so eager to talk, they constantly interrupt each other.”

“How charming,” Oriana replied, but she was elated to discover there was someone present who might know something more about Adelaine than her devoted maid was willing to tell.

Yowan was nearly as tall as Egan. Over the years his fiery red hair had deepened to auburn, but a lively light danced in his blue-gray eyes. He bowed slightly when Egan and Oriana approached, and took obvious pride in introducing his sons, who were strapping lads with the family’s bright red hair and blue eyes.

“I did not anticipate a challenge,” Yowan began in a conspiratorial whisper, “but I should have expected no better from Kieran. Clearly he has more of Ula’s blood in his veins than Cadell’s. I would not trifle with him as you did today. On the morrow, kill him cleanly, and welcome your title as king. Each minute you delay, Kieran grows stronger.”

Egan nodded as though he were in agreement. “It has been too long since your last visit. Please bring more of my mother’s people on your next journey.”

Yowan fixed his sons with a stern glance. “As soon as this pair are wed, I’ll do just that. Until then, I’ll have no more time for travel.”

While Oriana had made only polite murmurs during previous conversations, she reached out to touch Yowan’s sleeve. “You were Adelaine’s brother?” she inquired.

“Aye, that I was, and a dearer sister never lived. She was as joyous as a summer day, and that she was not alive when my sons were born has caused me great sorrow.”

Oriana was deeply gratified to learn Adelaine had possessed a sunny disposition, for it made suicide most unlikely. She smiled at Egan’s cousins, whose roving eyes proved they were far more interested in observing the young women present than in interrupting their father’s conversation. While their coloring was more vivid, they bore a slight resemblance to Egan and were equally muscular and fit.

“Have the two of you met Madi?” she asked. “She looks rather lonely tonight.”

“She’s no one we’d care to meet,” the taller of the young men replied with a barely suppressed snort.

“No, indeed,” added his brother. “I’d sooner court an honest shepherdess.”

While amusement tickled Egan’s lips, Oriana quickly encouraged the conversation in the direction she wished it to go. “Is it only Madi who’s not truthful, or her entire family?”

Yowan leaned close to whisper, “This is Ula’s home, my lady, and for my sons’ sakes, I’ll not question her family’s morals while we’re so badly outnumbered. Fortunately, no such inquiries are needed when it is a well-known fact that they will seize power by whatever means necessary. We should have foreseen Kieran’s challenge years ago and prepared for it.”

“Has such an eventuality always existed?” Oriana asked with feigned innocence.

“Aye, I’m sorely afraid that it has,” Yowan confided. “To protect Egan’s future, I advised Cadell to wed another lass from our family. But Adelaine’s cousins all reminded him too much of the dear love he’d lost, and Ula was a tempting distraction.”

Oriana watched distaste for the haughty woman twist Yowan’s expression into a revolted sneer and shared his sentiments completely. “Well, you did your best to protect Egan’s interests.”

“Aye, that I did, and you’d be wise to follow my advice on the morrow, lad, and become king of the Dál Cais without further delay.” Yowan looked to his sons for support, and they murmured the appropriate encouragement.

Egan responded with a deep chuckle. “No one has dared to address me as ‘lad’ in years, uncle. It’s good that you’re here, but I’ve set my own course.”

Yowan shook his head sadly. “You’re as headstrong as Cadell, but I hope you’ll not pay as dearly.”

In an instant the tone of the conversation darkened, and though Egan was obviously insulted, Oriana appreciated Yowan’s insight. “Is that a comment on his second marriage, or the manner of his death?” she whispered.

Behind them, the fire crackled in the huge hearth, and the minstrel’s voice soared in a bawdy refrain. Laughter echoed throughout the crowded hall, but they were encircled in a sudden silence. Oriana tilted her head slightly and risked staring directly at Yowan to prompt his reply.

Appearing shocked by the question, Yowan quickly looked away. “I’ve heard whispers about you, my lady, but even after Egan is named king, you’d best watch your tongue.”

Egan bristled at the warning. “In the future, direct all your advice to me,” he insisted, then dismissed his uncle and cousins with a curt nod. He took Oriana’s hand in a firm grip and led her toward the first of the low tables.

“It’s time for the evening meal,” he announced loudly, but he dropped his voice to insist, “You’ll save the rest of your questions for later.”

He sounded thoroughly annoyed with her, and perhaps she had been too bold, but there had been no way to speak privately with Yowan. Now she would have to think of some frivolous reason to explain why she had been so interested not merely in Adelaine, but also in Ula and Madi’s family.

Then who would be the liar? She had been quick to condemn Ula’s family for plotting murder, but perhaps she was merely attempting to justify her own lies. She wanted only to protect Egan, but now seated at his side, it hurt to have to keep secrets.

Guilt-ridden, her glance strayed toward the richly textured tapestries decorating the walls. Their deep colors added to the richness of the hall, and she could see in the flickering torchlight the subject of the largest appeared to be two men sailing skyward on huge wings. Because such a fanciful interpretation was absurd, she turned away to search the crowded hall for the one man she had not seen.

Just when she had convinced herself Kieran had decided against attending the feast, he strode into the hall with Bevan and his sons. Rather than being distraught at having lost the first challenge, he appeared supremely confident and hailed a friend with a jaunty wave. Ignoring Madi, he walked up to a young woman with flowing blond hair and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Oriana thought it a remarkable performance, but she could feel Egan watching her and raised her glance to his. “I wish we could have remained in your chamber,” she confided.

Egan smiled as he filled her cup with wine, but Oriana’s returning smile was shaky, and her stomach tightened into a painful knot. What if Yowan was right, and Egan should dispatch Kieran with all possible haste? What if it was merely her own lack of family which made her long to save Kieran’s life? What if every choice since the moment she had met Egan had been the wrong one?

A tear spilled over her lashes to splash into her wine, and she wished again to escape the crowded hall where everyone else relished the excitement of the challenge while she was so desperately afraid.

Egan watched the tears fill Oriana’s eyes and feared he had spoken too sharply. “I’m sorry for sounding harsh. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Oriana shook her head sadly. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t.”

Egan hoped she would still pay him the same compliment later, but he was positive she had yet to reveal something important. When his life might well depend on that very knowledge, he vowed to coax it from her lips with soul-grazing pleasure.

Chapter Thirteen

It was far later than Egan had hoped when he finally escorted Oriana into his chamber. He angled her toward his bed, and once she was seated primly on the edge, he knelt at her feet and rested his hands lightly on her knees. “Ula floods the fortress with secrets and lies. I sought you out because I needed trustworthy advisers, but I never dreamed I would become king so soon.”

He paused to marvel at the extraordinary result of that quest. “You are far more valuable to me now for the woman you are rather than for your gift for prophecy, but,” he emphasized, “I won’t allow you to withhold what might be significant insights.

“You’ve begged me to trust you, Oriana, but it’s time you trusted me. Whatever you sought to learn tonight, or perhaps already know, confide in me now.”

His earnest expression prompted an equally serious response, and Oriana fought to separate her cascading suspicions from the one undeniable truth in her heart. She raised a fingertip to trace the gentle bow of his upper lip, and he pressed a tender kiss to her palm.

They were quite alone, but Oriana spoke in a concerned hush. “Your mighty fortress conceals more secrets than I could bring to light in a lifetime, but you’re all that truly matters to me.”

Egan caught her hands before she could caress him a second time and decimate his last hope of pursuing a significant discovery that night. “You’ll not distract me so easily.”

“No, I seek only to protect you,” she swore.

Egan laughed despite the darkness of his mood. “I can control an ambitious half brother, but you, my lady, are beginning to try my patience. I’ll protect you most willingly, but for you to even suggest that you might reciprocate is ludicrous. Tell me what danger you foresee, and I’ll gladly defeat it on my own.”

In the fire’s reflected light, Oriana glimpsed a wildness in his eyes that revealed the real danger. He possessed a warrior’s fierce heart, and though she may have tamed it for the present, the innate threat was barely contained. She had watched him temper his strength with Duncan O Floinn, but he obviously possessed the cunning savagery to slay any real opponent.

“I did not mean to insult your pride,” she apologized calmly, “but by whatever means necessary, I’ll endeavor to safeguard your life. For the moment, I’ve no more than a haunting sensation of sorrow and loss. It may be your mother’s spirit lingering near those she loved, or merely the trick of a chilly draft. I’d not mentioned it for fear of distracting you when you must focus your wits on Kieran’s challenge.”

Oriana hoped he would accept that partial truth, for it was all she cared to disclose without proof of a sinister plot that might have been set in motion years ago. “You’re the only one who confides in me, Egan. All the others here regard me as an unwelcome stranger.”

“Not Albyn, surely,” Egan posed.

Oriana escaped his grasp to caress his temple and wound a lazy curl around her finger. “No, he has been friendly.” Much too friendly in her view, but that opinion was best left unspoken as well.

Egan studied the sadness of her expression and wished he could make her smile as she had that afternoon. He again caught her hand in a fond clasp. “I’m sorry we had to spend so much time pretending we’d rather entertain my guests than be alone here. I can’t promise that my life will ever become any less demanding, but you’ll always be first in my heart.”

It was a very thoughtful vow, but only served to increase her fear that their time together was merely an enchanted interlude not unlike the one her own parents had initially shared. It would not have to last, however, for her to believe he loved her deeply.

As a slight smile graced Oriana’s lips, Egan was no longer satisfied to simply have found a goddess wandering the earth in a patched cloak. Now he longed to know how she had spent every day since the moment of her birth. He craved even the smallest detail, a fleeting fright, an unexpected joy, the sum of experience that had created such a captivating creature. He hoped for a long, severe winter that would keep them locked in each other’s arms while they reminisced after making love.

“Sing Lugh’s song for me,” he begged. “Make it part of our memories of tonight.”

It was a touching request, but Oriana shook her head. “I’m not certain I can conjure up the tune; you fill my thoughts so completely there’s scant room for Lugh.”

Egan had never knelt at a woman’s feet, but it was not at all uncomfortable. In fact, he rather liked the pressure of her long, shapely legs against his chest. “I ask only for his song, not for a visit from the god himself.”

Yet even as he spoke, the logs on the hearth shifted with a loud crackle and sent a plume of bright sparks dancing wildly above the flames.

The timing of the impressive display startled Egan, but he recovered sufficiently to offer a confident challenge, “If that’s you, Lugh, I mean to wed your beautiful daughter.” Anticipating a fiery response, he held his breath, but the glowing hearth offered no additional signs of a blessing or curse.

“Do you see what tricks your imagination plays?” Oriana asked pointedly. “I want only you here, not Lugh. Let’s create our own song if you must have a melody to accompany your memories.”

While Egan was not so easily convinced that Lugh had not just sent a mischievous puff into the fire, he rose to join her on the bed. Then with a low, hungry growl, he caught her in his arms. “You never do anything I ask, do you?”

Oriana placed her hands on his chest in gentle reproach. “That’s untrue,” she protested. “I went to the feast with you tonight, did I not? It was not the first such meal I’ve attended.”

Egan responded with a grudging nod. “Aye, you have been at my side when I demanded it, but then tonight, as always, you did as you pleased.”

Oriana’s posture stiffened. “Would you rather I silently sipped wine until I had to be carried from the hall like more than one of your female relatives?”

Egan nibbled her ear. “I’d hoped you’d not notice the women who are overly fond of wine. In the future, we must dilute theirs with even more water.”

The slight growth of his beard tickled her throat, and Oriana’s pose softened as she leaned into his playful caress. “Perhaps the real problem lies not in the strength of the wine, but in the lack of a husband’s affections.”

“It could well be, but you’ll never suffer such a tragic fate.” Tightening his embrace, he lured her down onto the furs and captured her mouth for a long, lavish kiss.

In but a moment, Oriana felt his teasing mood change with the quickening of his breath. This was where he had pulled away from her that afternoon, but now, rather than being edged with caution, his kiss was suffused with desire. Deeply grateful, she welcomed his passion. There was no need to recall a haunting melody when he would be her first and only lover.

When he at last allowed her a moment to catch her breath, she whispered against his ear, “Are our clothes not in the way?”

Embarrassed that he had once discarded his so recklessly by the shore, Egan raised up only long enough to peel off his long tunic and toss it aside.

“There is no need to rush,” he assured her.

Oriana trailed her hand over his warm, bare shoulder. “No need for you, perhaps.”

Amused by her suggestive tone, Egan chuckled softly. “I mean to have you for a lifetime, my lady.”

Knowing some lifetimes were tragically brief, Oriana could not help but think of his mother, who must have died so very young. “I fear a lifetime with you may not be nearly long enough.”

“Then we must savor every moment.” Shifting his position slightly, Egan twisted his hands through her curls to hold her still for another deep kiss.

Cherishing every nuance of the affectionate exchange, Oriana sighed softly and then, with sudden alarm, confessed, “Rather than only seventeen summers, I’ve actually seen nineteen.”

Charmed by her candor, Egan indulged in another deeply satisfying kiss before leaning back to prop his head on his elbow. “I would love you even if it had been two hundred to my mere twenty-seven.”

The smoky scent of the fire blended smoothly with the lavender perfume of Adelaine’s clothes, but Oriana craved more of Egan’s clean, masculine essence. She snuggled close and breathed deeply. As always, he smelled so good, like soap and leather with a lingering hint of the mysterious forest depths. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the pulse in his throat beating in a sure, steady rhythm, and she fought to silence her fears.

His bare chest was so inviting, her own clothes were proving to be a frustrating distraction, and she sat up to pull off her sleeveless tunic, then leaned down to remove her shoes. “Perhaps you enjoy making love in your clothes, but I doubt that I shall.”

Egan watched as she stood to remove the golden torque he had placed around her neck and the delicate wooden beads his father had carved. He stretched lazily as she slid off her simple gold bracelet, and thought that even if they were blessed with a hundred years together, he would never tire of her guileless grace. He imagined the distant future when her hair would be a glossy silver rather than gold, and still she was so beautiful it took his breath away.

Unable to bear even a brief separation, he rolled off the bed, caught her in a warm embrace and nearly crushed her against his chest. “You’re right,” he admitted hoarsely. “Our clothes are in the way.”

As he dropped his hands, Oriana stepped back to unfasten his belt. “So you admit that I’m right about at least one thing?”

Egan sucked in his breath as her fingertips brushed his bare belly. He caught her wrists before she could undress him. “Wait. First you must remove your gown.”

That she had caused the catch in his voice made Oriana smile. “As you wish,” she replied. She bent to grasp her hem, and with a slow, easy twist pulled the lovely garment off over her head.

Egan had forgotten that she would be wearing a lace-trimmed shift underneath, and he waited impatiently as she laid her dress aside. When she turned back toward him, the rosy tips of her breasts were clearly outlined against the sheer linen, and it was all he could do not to rip her shift from neckline to hem with a single quick lunge.

Fighting for control, he ran his palms down his thighs and reminded himself that she was not only a rare beauty, but also an innocent who undoubtedly had no real understanding of what the night would bring. If he did not take care, there was a risk of frightening her so badly that she might also prefer wine to her husband’s company. Avoiding that wretched consequence would be worth the effort, but when he wanted her so badly, he was uncertain how he would maintain the necessary restraint.

Fearing the chamber was too brightly lit for modesty’s sake, he glanced toward the fire, and when he looked back toward Oriana, her shift lay pooled at her feet. With her stately elegance clothed, he had known she would be enchanting nude, but rather than demure, her glance was curious and direct. He tried to smile, but feared his expression conveyed only awestruck wonder.

Which of us is the true innocent here? he wondered. Before he could gather his wits to comment on her beauty, she crossed the distance between them in a single gliding step, and he was lost in her before their lips met in another lingering kiss. He picked her up to lay her across his bed, then sloughed off his pants and kicked them away.

With no effort to hide his erection, Egan stretched out beside her. Drawn by her enticing curves, he immediately slid his tongue over her breasts to lave the tender crests, and then pulled the puckered buds through his teeth. He traced the smooth fullness of her hip, caressed the length of her thigh, and then tightened his hand around her narrow waist to draw her close.

Oriana danced her fingertips across his broad back. Her touch strayed along the puckered edge of an old scar before plunging down over his hip, and certain of her goal, he quickly laced his fingers in hers to keep his desire focused upon pleasing her.

He knew he would never feel a greater joy, but he wanted so desperately for her to share it. He kissed her until they were both breathless and dizzy, and then shifted his position slightly to trail affectionate nibbles over her ribs and down into the gentle bowl of her stomach. A playfully sloppy kiss at her navel encouraged a rush of giggles, and straying lower, he rubbed his cheek against her soft triangle of golden curls.

Growing increasingly bold, he nudged her legs apart with his knee and settled himself between her slender limbs. At the first tantalizing brush of his tongue, Oriana responded with a startled gasp, but as she arched her back to escape him, he slid his arms under her thighs, clamped his hands around her waist to hold her captive, and tilted her hips toward his mouth.

He had never pleasured another woman in such an abandoned fashion, but none had ever been his Oriana. He lapped at the tender valley of her femininity and found her taste more luscious than any delicacy. He sampled, sipped, teased her delicate bud, then drank deeply, and still hungered for more.

Oriana felt as though she were being devoured by Egan’s ravenous desire but after the initial shock, she was lost in rapture. Emboldened by her own desire, she grabbed handfuls of his long wavy hair to encourage more of the stunning kisses that sent tingling tremors of ecstasy clear to her toes. He kept yanking her closer, but she no longer wished to pull away.

His tongue darted into her core, then swept up in a warm, wet arc to tempt her with glorious sensations. He traced the petals of her feminine flesh, nibbling gently, coaxing the surrender she was so eager to give. Her joy built with rippling waves that spiraled so tightly within her that the sweetness bordered pain.

“Oh, please, no more,” she sobbed.

As always, Egan was eager to argue, and without lifting his head, he slid a finger and then two inside to stroke her, lift her, carry her ever higher, until reaching the inevitable crest, she grabbed his wrist and writhed against his hand.

At the height of that thrilling climax, stars burst around her in a shimmering haze, but as she floated to earth, their searing heat left her as limp as a wilted rose. Egan drew her into his arms, but drained of strength as well as desire, she remained sprawled across his chest for what could have been days before she was able to draw a breath deep enough to inspire coherent thought.

Her mother had described the marriage act but not the depth of passion, nor the resulting pleasure, and Oriana wondered at that omission. Had Rain feared she would be so eager for a glimpse of the promised magic that at her first opportunity she would wed some handsome farmer?

Egan had worked a kind of magic on her, she was positive of that, but she was not too dazed to realize they were not actually wed. She folded her hands across his chest, raised up slightly, then shoved her hair out of her eyes.

“You should have come with me,” she scolded.

Egan had every intention of doing just that, but he feigned confusion with a dipped brow. “And just where is that, my lady?”

Oriana could feel the hard, blunt tip of his manhood against her thigh, and wished her mother had taken the time to instruct her in how to pleasure him. She licked her lips and then kissed him soundly. When the resulting taste was hers rather than his, she was embarrassed and yet deeply pleased.

“It was nowhere I recognized,” she replied enticingly. “Perhaps it was the Otherworld.”

Egan raised up to roll her off him into the furs, and then propped himself on his arms above her. “If it was the Otherworld, then now you know the way and can take me there.”

Oriana reached up to ruffle his hair. “I would take you anywhere.”

She drew a deep breath as he again parted her legs with his knee. Her mother had warned her that virgins could expect pain when they took a husband, but had claimed with Lugh, there had been only a joyous heat. Oriana did not fear the pain of joining with a mortal, but remained apprehensive a jealous god might again yank her from Egan’s arms.

Dreading that possibility, she braced herself as Egan began to tease her not with his tongue, but with the soft, smooth tip of his shaft. Riding her own slippery wetness, he slid along her cleft, and on each downward stroke dipped low to brush against her maidenhead. His slow, taunting rhythm soon coaxed a fresh burst of desire from deep within her, and this time, she knew exactly where it would lead.

Fascinated by her thoughtful lover, she coiled her arms around his and felt his muscles bulge as their shared rapture rose within him. His breath came in heated gasps. The sweat dripped from his brow to splatter on her breasts, and the need to feel him deep inside her grew to a now-familiar ache.

She dropped her hands to grip his waist, and on his next shallow thrust, she shoved down to take him deep. He was hard and thick, and her maidenhead tore as he filled her, but there was not even a nip of pain. Instead, she was filled with a delicious heat that made her squirm to settle him deeper still.

Taken by surprise, Egan went still, but when Oriana bucked beneath him, he lost all hope of restraint and began thrusting with a steadily increasing beat. He had wanted her so badly, but had never dreamed they would be so finely matched. Still, he held back his own release until he felt her welcoming contractions tighten around him.

As he plunged into that bliss, his chamber exploded with a blinding flash even brighter than lightning. When a long while later, Oriana lay cradled in his arms, he was still too stunned by the magnificence of her loving to speak. Then she began to sing Lugh’s song as he had asked, and the poignant melody brought a rush of tears he hid in her tangled curls.

Chapter Fourteen

As was Kieran’s unfortunate custom, he had drunk too much wine that night. But the thought-blurring spirits had failed to dampen his rage. He had made a brave show at the feast, but he was still so furiously angry with Egan for winning the first contest that he felt as though his heart were leaking blood.

Rather than show him the respect any worthy opponent deserved, throughout the evening Egan had not once glanced his way. Perhaps Egan was merely too besotted with his flame-haired whore to appreciate the risk his younger brother posed, but to dismiss him as inconsequential was unforgivable.

Humiliated at being ignored, Kieran was eager to end the wretched evening, and soon after Egan and Oriana had left the great hall, he also fled the crowd. He careened up the winding staircase, scraping his elbow on the way, and burst out onto the fog-shrouded battlements. The chill air slapped him back toward the doorway, but he sucked it in with deep, wrenching sobs. When he at last caught his breath, he stepped out on the wall walk and hurled his pain into the mist with a furious howl.

He had been Cadell’s favorite. He had been the son with whom Cadell had hunted and raced. They had brandished spears and swords in contests so ferocious yet playful, their true purpose had been disguised. More important, he had been the faithful son who had remained at his father’s side. He had heard Cadell embellish the tales of his battles so frequently, it seemed as though he had fought by his side.

Now he was left on his own to fight for the crown that was rightfully his. What did it matter that Egan was the firstborn when he had abandoned them all to spend the better part of each year chasing adventure?

He yelled a challenge that soared over the roar of the churning sea and vowed that no matter what dare Egan devised for the morrow, he would turn it against him in a win so decisive it would end with the crowd chanting his name.

“King!” he shouted into the night. “I will be king!”

Long after midnight, Albyn was still too restless to sleep, and he sat slumped in his boyhood chamber with his head cradled in his hands. He felt he was a fool for wasting so many precious years among the Druids, and although he had voiced his discontent only to Egan, he feared his every move revealed the depth of his torment.

An insistent tap at his door interrupted his musings, but he refused to respond when it was certain to be a Druidess seeking comfort from a virile young man. There had been a time when he would have welcomed such a diversion, but not now when losing himself in a woman’s heat would scarcely ease his pain.

Yet the memory of physical pleasure brought a forbidden longing for Oriana’s graceful touch. He had caught a glimpse of forever in her golden eyes, and had she belonged to any other man, he would have courted her with such imaginative devotion she would surely have come to him most willingly.

His chest tightened with sorrow, for he had made the journey home burdened by one anguish only to meet another he dared not share. Defeated in his search for peace, he stretched out across his bed and willed himself not to weep over what he feared might become an endless string of unfulfilled desires.

Egan dreamed that he and Oriana were floating in a magical sea, the waters of which were as warm and fragrant as a scented bath. The ebb drew her from his arms to create a nearly unbearable longing before the swell of the next wave carried her back to him. He quickly tired of that torture, and with her clasped to his side, rode a cresting wave to the shore.

They arrived in too lazy a mood to stand and lay nestled in the damp sand while the waves’ lacy foam teased and caressed their bare bodies with gently lapping tongues.

Egan wanted to make love to Oriana again, to dip into her luscious heat a thousand times. As before, she welcomed him, and on each thrust took him higher, until he could neither see nor hear the thunder of the ocean. He could only feel Oriana’s heart beating within his own chest, her blood coursing through his veins, and her dazzling thoughts whirling through his mind.

It was more than a passionate coupling. It was the glorious essence of life itself played out in an ageless dance. It stole his breath and left him gasping in a splendor brighter than any flame. When he could at last open his eyes, he was amazed to find himself still in his chamber, where the tapestry had been rolled back to admit the first blush of dawn.

Swathed in furs, he yawned, stretched, and made no move to contain the width of his smile when he found Oriana was already awake. She was cuddled close but lay studying him with a speculative frown he found most disconcerting. “Please don’t say that you were disappointed,” he urged. Almost afraid to touch her, he sat up and brought her hand to his lips.

In return, Oriana brushed his knuckles with a kiss and laced her fingers in his. “I’ll never be disappointed with you,” she swore convincingly.

Still, her smile remained wistful rather than joyous, and Egan could not abide that. “Then making love was not what you’d hoped. It will be better for you the next time though, or the next,” he promised. “You must give me another chance.”

Oriana sat up to face him, her curls wildly bewitching, but she kept a thick fox fur pressed to her bosom. “You’ve misunderstood my mood completely,” she scolded softly. “I’ve lived such a solitary life, and then there you were insisting upon becoming my husband.”

She dipped her head a moment to gather her thoughts. “But I didn’t even imagine what a true marriage entailed. Oh, I understood how the bodies of men and women fit together, but not how it felt. Now I just want to weep for all the years I didn’t know you, but at the same time, glory in the wonder we’ve finally found.”

That was much more complimentary than Egan had anticipated, and he drew her into an exuberant hug. “There is a magic in you, Oriana.” He caught himself before he blurted out what brief pleasures he had shared with other women. He had known only the rising physical tension and bliss of release, but nothing he had experienced had prepared him for loving her. It had been fleeting shadows, while she was a blinding light.

“I do love you, my lady. My wife,” he quickly amended. He leaned back to seek the truth in her eyes. “Will you finally admit that we’re wed?”

Oriana felt as through their shared passion had fused their very souls, and she did indeed feel wedded to him. “Aye,” she admitted shyly, “but I’ve still no magnificent dowry to offer a king.”

“True, but I’ve not had to pay your father an exorbitant bride price either. So in my mind, we’re even, just as though you had brought a fine dowry, and I’d had to pay dearly to call you my own. We’ll have the feast to celebrate later, but we are now wed.”

His eyes were more gray than blue in the dim light. Oriana was confident he possessed keen eyesight. There were just some things he adamantly refused to see.

“I’ll not argue while Kieran poses such a vexing threat,” she said, “but mark my words, beloved, those who’ll oppose me as your queen will not be easily defeated.”

Egan tilted her chin with his fingertips. “Is it simply impossible for you to trust in my love?”

Eager to avoid such close scrutiny of her thoughts, Oriana lay her cheek upon his shoulder, and he immediately enveloped her in a possessive embrace. “I trust you with my heart and life, but I’ll always be an outsider here and it creates a danger for us both.”

“Not once Kieran is defeated, it won’t.” Egan rested his chin atop her curls. He wanted to make love to her all day, and it pained him to have to leave her now. “Albyn is as great a worrier as you. He’ll come to fetch me soon.”

As Egan reluctantly relaxed his embrace, Oriana pushed away. She had not watched him shave, nor seen him dress, and suddenly understood why. “You’ve been using your father’s chamber, haven’t you?”

“Aye,” Egan admitted slyly, as though she had caught him in a trick. “I meant to avoid you at first, and then to give you the privacy a lady deserves.”

Oriana nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been wearing his clothes?”

Uncertain where their conversation was leading, Egan turned away to swing his legs off the bed. “We were the same size.”

As is Kieran, Oriana did not offer aloud. “It should bring you continued good luck. Do so again today.”

Egan grabbed his pants from the floor before entering the privy. He always awoke hard, but that morning he had to fight the urgent need to make love again. He wanted Oriana so badly, if he started he would not be able to stop should a hundred men come knocking at his door, so he dared not even begin. But denying his need was a worse torment than any Kieran posed.

He was surprised he was so steady on his feet when he felt giddy clear to his soul, but he did not think it a good day for climbing mountains. Recalling his dream, he decided a swim would be a better choice, but first he would have to find the strength to leave the chamber he shared with his bride.

Oriana returned Egan’s adoring kiss, but made no move to stop him as he strode toward the door. When she’d had such a vague notion of the rapture of making love, she now wondered how she could have offered such confident prophecies. She felt foolish for having been so incredibly naive.

“I knew nothing before meeting you,” she said to him sincerely.

Egan paused with his hand on the open door. “You mustn’t dismiss your talents so lightly, my lady. You read the future with magical stones, and it was your gift that drew me to you. Now rest here if you like, or come join the others and watch, but I’ll wager today’s challenge will be over quickly.”

He was gone before Oriana could admit her Stones of Tomorrow were nothing more than pretty rocks. In the chamber’s sudden silence, the fanciful deception swiftly became a hideously convoluted lie, and she vowed to tell Egan the truth at her first opportunity. That newfound guilt compounded by anxiety over the challenge prompted her to leave the bed in a hurried leap.

Her hands shook as, unable to make a quick choice, she sorted through Adelaine’s pretty garments. There were the new brown gowns she had set aside for travel, but she hated the sight of them now. She would have tossed them in the fire had the fabrics not been so fine; they ought to be passed along to some farmer’s wife or shepherdess in need of new clothing.

Finally dressed in a soft green-gray gown, Oriana was about to comb her hair when Myrna appeared with fruit, freshly baked bread, and cheese. “Egan insisted I remain to watch you eat, my lady, but I’d rather make myself useful. Hand me your comb, and I’ll tame your curls. Adelaine’s were every bit as wild, and I learned to begin at the tips to gently coax them into obedience.”

Grateful for her help, Oriana handed over the comb, broke off a bit of bread, and moved toward the chair. “I doubt I shall be able to eat much or sit for long. I don’t want to miss the day’s challenge and am eager to hear what it will be.”

As soon as Oriana was seated, Myrna stepped behind her and began to expertly untangle her curls. “I’ve missed having a pretty mistress to tend. Ula has her own maids and never has any need for me.”

“Is she troubled over the challenge?” Oriana inquired.

Myrna pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Not that I’ve seen. But then, she expects Kieran to win.”

Oriana waited for Myrna to separate another handful of hair before she murmured, “A mother should be loyal.”

Myrna clamped her jaws shut, but quickly lost her battle to keep still. “Ula is loyal only to herself, and Kieran is quick to do her bidding.”

“Egan would not treat her badly,” Oriana argued. “He’s too fine a man to banish his stepmother from her home.”

“He is a fine man,” Myrna agreed, “but like his sire, blind to the dangers in his own household.”

Intrigued, Oriana sat up a little straighter. “Have you recalled something more about Adelaine’s death?”

Myrna appeared to concentrate on a difficult snarl, but her expression betrayed her sorrow. “I’m an old woman, and my memories are as tangled as your pretty curls. Adelaine’s death has always been a great puzzle I can’t solve.”

With a soft sigh, Oriana abandoned the hope that Myrna knew more than she was telling, but at the same time, she remained firmly convinced there was still far more to discover. Fidgeting nervously, she feared the only person who could reveal the truth had either shoved, or thrown, Adelaine to her death.

“This fortress is haunted,” Oriana whispered more to herself than Myrna.

“Aye, that it is, and when so many poor souls died while laying the massive stones, it’s likely it always has been. But no ghost killed my dear Adelaine.”

“No, for if there were a murdering ghost, he or she would have tossed others to the cliffs, and that hasn’t happened, has it?”

“No, my lady. Men have died here in battles and brawls, and some like Cadell in their beds. Countless women have also died here, but none as tragically as Adelaine, or without a single witness.”

Oriana could accept a natural death, but the day’s likely prospect of a murderous brawl forced her from her chair. She smoothed out her curls, and taking the comb, pressed Myrna’s hands between her own. “I must go now, but thank you. I may call on you again. I should not want anyone to blame me for careless grooming and laugh at Egan.”

Pleased to be needed, Myrna glowed with pride. “He calls you his wife.”

“Yes, I know. Now let’s hurry to see what the day will bring.”

Easily distracted, Myrna had forgotten her promise to make Oriana eat. She shrugged as she led the way out into the corridor. “It can’t bring much until Kieran is pried from his bed.”

Oriana cared little whether it was drink or pleasure that kept him there, but with Egan clear-headed, he was bound to have the advantage. “Husband,” she murmured under her breath, and though the word sounded strange on her tongue, she loved to hear it.

Egan had discussed the advantages of a swim over a mountain climb or archery competition with Albyn, but as the crowd began to gather in the courtyard, he cared little what form the contest took. His only interest was in bringing their challenge to a swift end so that he might spend all his time making love to Oriana.

He scanned the faces of his relatives for his bride, but if she was there, he could not find her. He had not expected to miss her so badly and regretted not insisting that she be at his side.

Much to his disgust, he saw Madi making her way toward them. He doubted her intentions were good, but knew she would only lie if he inquired as to her true purpose. He greeted her with a curt nod, while Albyn barely glanced her way.

“What is it to be today, my lord?” Madi pressed close to Egan’s side and gazed up at him through provocatively angled lashes. “You have a fine horse. Will there be a race?”

“Raven is swift,” Egan offered agreeably, “but were I to win on his back, he’d doubtless claim he deserved the crown.”

Madi attempted to wrap her hands around Egan’s biceps, but her fingers failed to meet. “I’d not heard you owned a talking horse. Would you ask him to say something to me?”

Albyn turned away, but Egan could see his shoulders shaking from the effort to contain his amusement. He was tempted to swear Raven spoke only to the pure of heart, but making love with Oriana had left him in so generous a mood, he swallowed the insult.

“Nay, my lady,” he responded in a fine imitation of Raven’s whinny, and Albyn erupted in a furious fit of laughter.

Madi stepped back, but if Egan had told a joke, she failed to see the humor in it. As for Albyn’s behavior, she thought him rude to the extreme. “What is it you find so amusing?” she asked pointedly.

“Merely the whimsy of a talking horse, my lady,” Albyn assured her, but the dancing light in his eyes revealed otherwise.

Madi thought him lacking in manners, but she dared not voice a negative opinion to a Druid. Instead, she licked her lips and again focused her attention on Egan. “I wanted only to wish you luck,” she said.

“Thank you, but I doubt that would please Kieran,” Egan replied.

Madi lowered her voice to a suggestive purr. “I no longer care what pleases Kieran. Perhaps we can discuss my current desires more fully after tonight’s feast.”

Astonished she would be so brazen, Albyn’s expression instantly sobered, but Egan’s studied indifference betrayed none of his surprise. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the only desires I’ll fulfill tonight are my wife’s.”

“Surely you’ve not claimed your traveling companion as your wife,” Madi protested loudly, and a hush fell over the surrounding crowd as his curious kin strained to hear.

“Aye, that I have, but here’s Kieran, and we’ve a challenge to set.”

Madi bristled at Egan’s cool dismissal, but holding her head high, she smiled as she moved toward the crowd and hoped everyone would believe their parting had been cordial. As for his taking a stranger as his wife, that was as disastrous a mistake as Kieran’s brutish demand for her body.

After Myrna’s comment, Oriana was surprised to find Kieran a few steps ahead of her as she left the fortress. His step was steady, and if he’d had difficulty leaving his bed, his confident posture hid it well. Had she overtaken him on the stairs, she would have offered a word of encouragement for the future, but with the crowd closing in around them, there was no such opportunity.

After having avoided crowds all her life, she would never have pushed through the gathering to reach the clearing if Egan had not been waiting there. He noted her arrival with a wicked grin, and nodded toward Kieran to urge him to begin.

“It is your choice today, brother,” Kieran announced for all to hear, but there was no mistaking his lack of affection for Egan.

Egan glanced toward the cloudless sky as though he were still contemplating his choice. “It is a fine day for a swim,” he replied just as loudly. “Let’s walk down to the end of the bay, and swim back to the cliffs below the fortress. A boat can await us there.”

Kieran appeared incredulous. “You want to swim?” he asked. “The chill water will turn us to ice long before we reach the cliffs.”

Egan folded his arms over his chest and shot Kieran an indulgent glance. “If you refuse to swim, which is your right, then the challenge ends here.”

Oriana stood facing Egan, but she could tell from the tightening of Kieran’s shoulders that he was not nearly as at home in the sea as was his half brother. Most men avoided water deeper than their ankles, but she had seen Egan swim and thought this a brilliant challenge, until Kieran began to laugh.

“Have you not heard that I put the fishes to shame?” Kieran bragged when he had caught his breath.

Egan gestured toward the sea. “We’ll let the race decide who is shamed.”

Ula stepped to her son’s side and ran her tiny hand over his broad back. “So that there is no misunderstanding the result, the Druids should serve as judges.”

Averse to the idea, Egan’s brows dipped menacingly. “I doubt it will be such a close race, my lady, but by Druids, do you mean those loyal to you?”

Ula did not glance toward Garrick, who was already smirking. “There is a Druid by your side as well, and I have no objection to Albyn also calling the winner,” she stated graciously.

Albyn acknowledged her comment with a curt nod, then added a warning. “I am no more impartial than the Druids loyal to you, my lady.”

Garrick approached to take Ula’s side. “Despite our loyalties, we are honor bound to make unbiased judgments and can be relied upon to do so today. Three will be the perfect number, and I’ll call upon Neal to assist us.”

A young sandy-haired Druid of ample girth moved forward with a rolling gait. He appeared inordinately pleased to have been asked to serve. “I have a keen eye,” he boasted.

“It won’t even be close,” Egan swore.

“Close or not, I’ll serve as judge,” Albyn agreed, but he did not trust Garrick to decide in Egan’s favor unless he beat Kieran by more than an arm’s length. Equally confident Egan could do just that, he broke into a grin. “Let’s walk down to the bay then.”

Oriana felt the crowd surge forward, and might have tripped and fallen had Egan not come to her side. She tried to return his confident smile, but while she thought he would win, she was frightened for him all the same. “Please take care,” she whispered.

“I’m as at home in the sea as you are in the forest,” he assured her confidently. “Watch the race from the bluff where you admired the view.”

Oriana chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “I’d have an excellent view there, it’s true, but I’d be too far from the finish and unable to greet you.”

“Then stand wherever you please,” Egan offered. “It won’t affect the outcome.”

Oriana wished he had been open to her warning, but clearly he thought any need for caution absurd. As they reached the shore, she feared the men might strip nude, but each removed only his shoes and shirt. Their muscular bodies were so much alike, but the gleam in Kieran’s dark eyes was murderous. As Egan kissed her for luck, she felt a dark chill of foreboding and wished the race were already over.

“To accurately judge the winner, we should stand near the cliffs,” Albyn urged, and when he turned toward them, Oriana hastened to his side, followed by Garrick and Neal.

Oriana turned back to make certain Egan and Kieran were waiting for the Druids to take their places and a boat to be dispatched. Then she nearly had to run to keep up with the men. “Will this be the end of it?” she whispered to Albyn.

“It could be, if Kieran will concede defeat,” Albyn replied just as softly. “How likely do you believe that to be?”

“Not at all,” Oriana nearly moaned. When they reached a spot near the fortress with the best view, she stepped away from the Druids rather than give in to the temptation to cling to Albyn. The crowd now stood stretched out along the shore with the majority bunched behind the Druids.

Oriana felt their heat at her back and caught a glimpse of Ula standing nearby with Madi and Skell. As she glanced down the rocky cliff below, a shiver of dread coursed down her spine, and the knowing whispered a clear warning to step away from the edge. Because it would take no more than a misplaced elbow or a deliberate hand to send her tumbling onto the jagged rocks, she swiftly obeyed.

Unwilling to miss seeing her husband race, however, she slid in front of Albyn and sat down at his feet. With the solid earth beneath her, she felt secure, but she could still feel the hostile glances being sent her way and heard more than a few grumbling about Egan’s choice of wife.

Then Egan and Kieran waded into the water and Oriana lost all interest in the restless crowd. As the young men dove under the waves and began to swim, each displayed powerful strokes. They remained even for a time, but Egan gradually began to pull ahead.

There were those who shouted for Kieran to pour on the speed, while others cheered wildly for Egan. But with still a quarter of the distance left to swim, Kieran suddenly slipped beneath the surface of the chill water. A hush swept through his kin, and when he broke the surface, all heard his terrified screams.

“What’s happened to Kieran?” Oriana cried.

Albyn knelt by her side to respond. “He must have suffered a muscle cramp, and they cause excruciating pain.”

Kieran went under again, then drew himself up, his wildly flailing arms failing to produce a smooth stroke. This time his sputtering cries for help reached Egan’s ears. Alarmed, Egan glanced back over his shoulder just as Kieran slid under for a third time.

“The race is over,” Albyn moaned. “Egan won’t let him drown.”

“No,” Oriana cried, and she reached out to clutch his cloak. “It’s a trick, and Kieran means him great harm.” She was too far away to shout a warning to Egan, but as he turned back to save his half brother, her heart caught in her throat. She had been the one to insist he safeguard Kieran’s life, but she had never dreamed extracting that promise might cost Egan his own.

She watched in horror as Egan dove deep to pull Kieran to the surface, but rather than float meekly when he bobbed into view, Kieran rose up to fill his lungs with air and then shoved Egan under. The whole crowd gasped, then began to cheer as through a sheet of flying spray Egan emerged to tackle Kieran. Too slippery to hold, Kieran broke away and each rained heavy blows on the other.

“It was a trick,” Albyn cursed, and grit his teeth in horror. He covered Oriana’s hand with his own.

As quickly as it had begun, the fight ended with one brother pulling away with a long savage stroke while the over lay floating facedown in the sea. Albyn strained to discern which it was, for now the slick wetness of their hair made it impossible to recognize Egan’s longer curls.

“Who is it?” he cried.

“Kieran’s still swimming,” Oriana responded in an anguished sob. Using Albyn’s cloak for handholds, she scrambled to her feet, and he rose just as quickly to stand beside her. With the press of the crowd, there was no way for her to turn back and run down to the shore. Even there, she would not have been able to swim, but she refused to just stand by and watch her beloved drown.

“You must help him!” she screamed to anyone who might listen, but before her cry was lost on the breeze, Egan raised his head and began to swim for the cliffs. He swam as though he were now the one in agonizing pain, but at least he was alive, and Oriana shouted encouragement to him with joyous pride.

Kieran easily reached the cliff first and took the offered hand to climb into the boat. He waved to his cheering kin, and then appeared dumbfounded when he turned and found Egan nearing the cliff. Rather than swim toward the boat, however, Egan veered away to haul himself up on a small rocky ledge, where he used both hands to stem the blood flowing from a long gash in his side. Too weak to call to Oriana, he could only look up at her and smile.

“Kieran stabbed him,” Oriana screamed, and she turned the full force of her fury on Garrick. “You can’t name Kieran the victor when clearly he resorted to treachery!”

Albyn dropped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Hush,” he chided. “Everyone saw Kieran reach the cliff first.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to hush. Kieran cheated and that makes Egan the rightful winner of the race.”

Garrick shook his head and responded with a low indulgent laugh. He gestured for Ula to approach, and the crowd parted to allow her to come closer to hear his pronouncement. “A challenge may be won by whatever means necessary, my lady, and there is no rule banning a ruse. Indeed, there are those among us who prize a clever mind over a brave heart any day.”

“A clever ruse is one thing, but to stab the man who’s challenged you to a swim is quite another,” Oriana argued. “How can you condone such a foul deed?”

Garrick spread his arms wide. “I saw no weapon,” he announced with a careless shrug. “Did you see one Neal, or you, Albyn?”

Albyn couldn’t meet Oriana’s fiery gaze and hated not being able to take her side. “No, but that doesn’t mean Kieran wasn’t armed.”

Neal patted his ample belly before offering his opinion. “I saw no blood until Egan climbed out of the sea. He could have cut himself on the rocks.”

Oriana nearly shrieked in frustration. “How can you claim to possess a keen eye and then give voice to such a blatant lie? Kieran feigned drowning, and then not only attempted to drown Egan when he came to his rescue, but stabbed him as well. He’s won nothing today but disgrace.”

Ula drew herself up to her full height. “Of course you’re disappointed, but I’ll not have my son insulted.”

Garrick raised his hand in a plea for silence, then stared at Oriana a long moment. When his eyes narrowed, many of those standing nearby took a cautious backward step, but Oriana didn’t even flinch. “Without dispute,” Garrick stated calmly, “Kieran was the first to reach the cliff, and I declare him the winner of today’s challenge.”

Oriana had lived with a mortal fear of Druids, but when they abused Egan so badly, she could not keep still. She looked Garrick directly in the eye, and silently dared him to threaten her back. “The Dál Cais are guided by fools,” she swore. “May you have the king you deserve.”

Albyn’s hand closed over her mouth before she could curse the whole lot any further, and desperately afraid for her husband, she fainted in his arms.

Chapter Fifteen

When Oriana came to, she was lying next to Egan on his bed. Albyn was seated on her husband’s right side and methodically stitching up the gash crossing his ribs. The Druid glanced toward her, but all she saw were his bloody fingers, and she promptly fainted again.

“Your bride has no stomach for blood,” Albyn commented absently.

“ ’Tis no flaw in a lass,” Egan argued, but his eyes remained closed and his words were slurred by the potent ale Albyn had forced him to consume before he had begun sewing him closed like a sack of grain. “Are you nearly finished?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Just a few more stitches.” Despite Albyn’s confident reply, his hands were shaking so badly that he was making very slow progress. He hated to cause his friend additional pain, but he did not trust his care to anyone save Oriana, and she had proven to be worthless.

Egan turned his head to the side and slurped another mouthful of ale from the cup dangling from his fingers. It should have eased the searing pain in his side, but he was still in agony.

“If you wrap me up tightly tomorrow, I might be able to stand; but it’s Kieran’s turn to choose the challenge, and where will I find the strength to fight?”

Albyn shared that same fear and had to swallow hard before he took another bloody stitch. “A challenge allows no time for a wounded man to recover, but by striking you in the left side, Kieran failed to impair your strong right arm.”

“It was no act of kindness,” Egan replied. “The sea cushioned his blow, and he missed my heart.”

“You should have let him drown.” Albyn fumbled with the needle and silently cursed his own lack of skill, though he doubted Egan would complain about the width of his scar.

“His life was never in peril,” Egan reminded him.

When Albyn conceded the point, Egan fought to distract himself from his friend’s continuous jabs by thinking only of Oriana. She had been so distant on the afternoon they had met that he had not thought any man would ever win her heart. That he had achieved that miracle stunned him, and that she lay so near was his only comfort. Still, he was plagued by the vexing doubt of the value of a seeress who could foretell the future but was nonetheless unable to warn him of danger.

He cursed himself for blaming her when he had known from the outset that the challenge might well prove deadly. He had played it her way though, merely toying with Kieran rather than killing him quickly, and that ploy had cost him dearly. He drew in a deep breath and instantly regretted the searing pain that shot clear to his toes.

As soon as Egan could draw a breath, he muttered, “Now I shall have to kill him.”

“That’s the way to think,” Albyn encouraged. “You might have intended to win without taking Kieran’s life, but he’s lost all hope of such generosity now.” Yet even as he spoke, Albyn feared Egan would be unable to raise a dagger, let alone a sword, to continue the challenge.

Albyn knew Egan would not accept defeat with a manly bow either. No, he would demand Kieran fight him although he no longer had any hope of winning. Albyn was equally stubborn, however, and would not allow Egan to throw away his life in a doomed battle. Confident Oriana would be a willing ally in protecting her husband’s life, he vowed they would succeed in the effort.

The three of them might leave the fortress of the Dál Cais with no more than their lives, but that was a treasure beyond measure. Oriana had stirred, and until he had finally closed Egan’s wound, he hoped she would not open her beautiful golden eyes and faint for the third time in a single day.

Oriana lay snuggled against Egan’s side, and after awaking with a start, she was relieved to find him sleeping peacefully. A fur rested low on his hips and the line of Albyn’s uneven stitches danced down his left side like the tracks of some frantic bird.

Avoiding that gruesome sight, she stared at the flatness of her husband’s belly and followed the gentle curves of his hip bones. He had such a handsome body, and all of it so exquisitely male. She loved him so desperately, she did not care how many scars he carried.

“Don’t touch him,” Albyn cautioned from his place by the hearth.

Badly startled by Albyn’s command, Oriana sat up so quickly that she nearly rolled off the side of the bed. She had meant only to kiss Egan’s cheek, not throw herself upon him, but she had not realized they were not alone. Badly embarrassed, she rose with as much dignity as she could muster, then hesitated briefly to make certain she had not disturbed Egan’s rest.

“You should have announced yourself earlier,” she whispered.

“I hadn’t noticed you were awake,” Albyn replied. “Are you feeling better?” He was seated in the chair and appeared more exhausted than relaxed.

“No, I’m sick clear through. I don’t understand any of you.”

There was no fire burning, but Albyn found it easier to contemplate the heap of ashes on the hearth than meet her smoldering gaze. “Yes, you made that abundantly clear. Fortunately, Egan was too far away to hear you condemn the whole of the Dál Cais, but no one who heard found it endearing.”

Unconcerned by the opinions of the loathsome crowd, Oriana’s expression remained contemptuous. “You sided with Garrick and Neal. Did you explain that to Egan while you tended him?”

Albyn enjoyed the honeyed tones of her voice so greatly, he strove to forgive her caustic words. “There was no need to explain. He saw Kieran reach the rocks first.”

“Yes, but only by turning Egan’s own compassion against him, and you Druids rewarded Kieran for doing so. Have you no sense of honor?” Oriana accused.

“We could debate that question for days, but in the case of a challenge, your question is misplaced. A victory is still considered a victory regardless of how it’s achieved.”

Drawing comfort from her husband’s presence, Oriana remained close to his bed. “So the fact Egan won yesterday in a straightforward manner counts for no more than Kieran’s shameful win today?”

“Unfortunately, no. The challenge stands at a tie and will continue on the morrow when Kieran will choose the manner of contest. Now I have an important question for you. How could you have failed to warn Egan of the real danger Kieran posed?”

His words were closely clipped, and sharing his barely controlled rage, Oriana did not take offense. “Had I received a warning, I would have conveyed it immediately, but sadly, I was as surprised and horrified as Egan must have been by Kieran’s vicious ruse.”

Albyn remained skeptical. “Yet you’re widely admired for your visions of the future.”

The comment was a taunt rather than a compliment, but again, Oriana appreciated his dark mood and held her temper in check. “My own fate is hidden from me, as is Egan’s, and those close to him. I can only glimpse your future, not describe it in detail.”

Startled by that revelation, Albyn was instantly on his feet. “Tell me what it is you see.”

With the wide bed at her back, Oriana had no avenue of retreat. He was making her horribly uncomfortable. “Now which of us is rudely issuing commands?” she asked.

Albyn pointed toward Egan. “Do not trifle with me while the best friend I can ever hope to have lies so badly wounded. It’s a gift from the gods that Kieran failed to gut him, and with fish nibbling his entrails, Egan would never have emerged from the sea alive. It’s all I can do not to take up his sword and go after Kieran myself.”

He had removed the robe that disguised his muscular build, and after providing such a sickening description of what Egan might have suffered, Oriana readily believed he possessed not merely the righteous anger, but the size and strength to kill Kieran with a single mighty blow. She also knew he had sufficient control of his desires to allow Egan to act first.

Badly in need of refuge, she sat down beside her husband and slipped her hand into his. He had such capable hands, and she hoped he would not awaken too weak to defend himself. She had seen the blood seeping through his fingers, and feared he had lost more than his body could swiftly replenish.

“It’s difficult for me to think of anything other than Egan either,” she began, “but for your sake I’ll try.”

She looked away for a long moment, and then spoke with her customary confidence. “There are many paths leading to the same destination, Albyn. Rather than regret your years with the Druids, please view them as a valuable step along your way. While I wish there were more to reveal, you must believe in your future.’ Tis an enviable one.”

Albyn wasn’t impressed by her encouraging, maddeningly vague promises. “If I leave the Druids, where should I go?”

“You’ll hear the call when it comes,” she assured him.

Baffled, Albyn raked his hands through his sun-streaked hair. “I thought I’d been called to the Druids.”

Oriana again attempted to ease his anguish. “You were, but you’ve learned all they have to teach you, and you must continue your journey on your own.”

“I have always been alone,” Albyn complained bitterly.

“That’s not true. All along you’ve had friends who’ve loved you and eased your way.”

“Perhaps,” Albyn conceded, “but their kindness scarcely eases the ache in my soul.” He hesitated briefly, then asked what he truly wished to know: “Can you teach me how to divine the future? Whatever it is you do, will you explain it, or show me the steps? You have my word I’ll not pass along your secrets. This is something I want for myself alone, not for all Druids.”

Oriana did not doubt his sincerity, but she could not comply. “It isn’t something I learned or can teach,” she explained. “It is, just as you described Egan’s survival, a gift from the gods. When someone comes seeking their fortune, I hear a voice not unlike that of a friend whispering secrets, and it tells me all I wish to know. It wasn’t until I met Egan, however, that I encountered anyone whose path lay hidden from me. It took me a while to understand why.”

While disheartened, Albyn refused to abandon the subject. “Would you teach me if your gift could be taught?”

Oriana thought his question ridiculous, but he was a loyal friend and deserved a sympathetic response. “Because it can be more of a curse than a blessing, I’d have to consider the question and more carefully weigh the advantages and disadvantages.”

Completely dissatisfied with her evasive reply, Albyn returned to the chair. Oriana had such a persuasive manner, he feared she could convince him of anything, but he could not help but wonder if the voice she heard did not exist solely in her head.

Oriana was saddened by his dejected slump. “Unlike a bard, I never create fanciful tales to entertain,” she advised softly. “I can only repeat what is told to me.”

“Does anyone else ever hear your magical voice speak?” he asked.

“No,” Oriana answered, and then quickly caught herself. “I shouldn’t say that. On a couple of occasions, Egan complained of hearing a voice. He wasn’t at all pleased. You might not be either.”

Merely confused now, Albyn lost all hope of gaining any meaningful insights from Oriana and feared she was as great a fraud as the Druids who claimed to read the future in the entrails of the animals they sacrificed to the gods. His deepest fear was that there was no future to foretell, only a miserable present to be endured.

“What did the voice tell you about Kieran?” he asked.

Guilt-ridden that her vision of Kieran’s promise might have cost Egan his crown, Oriana refused to explain that rather than coming from the knowing, she had listened to her own heart. “My only concern is for Egan. I’ll tend him now. Please leave us.”

“No. Should he wish to stand, if only to visit the privy to relieve himself, you’d not be able to hold him.”

Oriana knew that was certainly true. “Where is your chamber? Should Egan require your assistance, I’ll summon you.”

“My chamber is at the end of this corridor, but I’ve no wish to sit there and wait like some prisoner confined to a cell. I’ll remain here until Egan sends me away.”

“You are as stubborn as Egan,” Oriana whispered under her breath.

“Aye, that I am. Perhaps even more.”

Caring little for Albyn’s warning, Oriana rested her hand against Egan’s forehead. Even that slight touch created a thrill that warmed her whole body, but she dared not fondle him and risk disturbing his rest when he needed it so badly to heal.

“He’s not feverish, but what if he’s unable to leave his bed on the morrow?” she asked.

Although not completely resigned to that sad but likely outcome, Albyn drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Then the challenge will be over, and Kieran will be king. But you don’t know your husband if you believe he’ll give into pain when not merely his own, but also the whole future of the Dál Cais is at stake.”

Thinking the situation truly desperate, Oriana wished the knowing would offer some sign of encouragement, but she heard only silence and felt as utterly abandoned as she believed Albyn must. “Let’s assume that Egan is able to face Kieran in the courtyard. When honor has no place in a challenge, will anyone object should I stab Kieran in the back?”

Albyn swore under his breath. “Weren’t you the one who begged Egan to let his half brother live?”

At the time, she had been so certain that was the right course, but now she felt sick with regret. “Since it now appears to have been a grave error, please do not remind me. However, I needn’t slay Kieran to leave him too weak to fight.”

Albyn had not thought to liken Oriana to a she-wolf, but now that she had shown herself willing to defend Egan with more than mere words, the comparison appeared apt. “I don’t doubt your courage, Oriana, but we must think of something far less desperate to safeguard your husband’s life.”

Oriana did not even know where to begin, but she was far too concerned about Egan to continue arguing with his friend. “How did you manage to get us both here to his chamber?” she asked instead.

“I didn’t,” Albyn confessed with a shrug. “I carried you. Yowan and a handful of others rescued Egan from the rocks and brought him here.”

At first, Oriana wondered why he had not passed her along to another man when she had fainted and gone after Egan himself, but in the instant before Albyn glanced away, the hunger in his gaze provided the answer. He could not leave either of them it seemed, and his distracted company merely fed her apprehension.

Awash in disgust, Albyn remained silent for a long moment. He was alone with Oriana, even if Egan was asleep in the same room, and he had simply squandered the opportunity to savor her company. Clearly only one subject occupied her mind, so he seized it.

“The knife wound is long, but not deep,” he said. “It was a reckless move on Kieran’s part, but thankfully, with the turbulence of the sea, it’s nearly impossible to stab a man with any accuracy underwater.”

Grateful for the gods’ intervention, or for whatever force had saved her husband’s life, Oriana nodded thoughtfully. “Rather than count on Egan’s luck to hold, we must plan for the morrow. You know Kieran better than I ever will. How can we turn that reckless streak of his against him?”

Albyn had hoped they might devise a plan to save Egan, but her question inspired an entirely new line of thought. In an instant, he recalled the most reckless challenge in all of Dál Cais history, and his spirits soared. “When Egan wakes, we’ll feed him meat to restore his strength. It won’t matter if he’s barely able to stand; if he looks strong, Kieran will believe it.”

Albyn’s sudden excitement left Oriana puzzled. “I’m sure you’re right, but how will the mere appearance of strength help Egan win the next contest?”

Albyn rose and began to pace. “The Dál Cais are an ancient tribe and some of our early traditions have been lost in the mists of memory. There is one, however, that lingers.”

Oriana felt a strange tingling along her scalp, and quickly ran her fingers through the curls at her nape. “You’re frightening me.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to, but at one time, the Dál Cais possessed the secret of flight.”

“The tapestries!” Oriana exclaimed. “I thought they depicted winged men, and then I discounted it.”

“No, the tapestries in the great hall do indeed show winged men. It was begun with a dare. Then, after many disasters, it was discovered that with a single giant wing, rather than a bird’s pair, a man could fly. Or at least he could hang on and glide like a falcon on the wind. It was an exciting time.”

Albyn’s whole mood had changed to one of near breathless elation, but all Oriana felt was an eerie sense of foreboding. “If the Dál Cais once had such a magnificent pastime, why did they cease to pursue it?”

Albyn halted in front of her. While he hated to confide it, she deserved the truth. “It was used in a challenge for the crown. Both young men leapt from Mount Royal, but rather than allow them to glide as was expected, the wind suddenly grew violent and dashed them upon the rocks. Their deaths left the Dál Cais with a child for a king, but he was a clever lad who ended the risk to his warriors by forbidding flight and burning every wing. No one has dared to build one since.”

Oriana’s throat tightened as she considered what Albyn had suggested. “A chance to fly would appeal to a reckless man like Kieran though, wouldn’t it?”

“Aye, I believe that it would, and because there’s no one alive who’s ever built a wing, it might take considerable time to accomplish.”

“Time in which Egan would recover his health,” Oriana added.

“Aye, that it would, but I’ll need your help to bring this about,” Albyn urged.

Oriana looked down at Egan. His features were relaxed, as though his dreams were sweet. “No. What you’ll actually need is for Kieran to imagine that he’s thought of flying on his own. Use Yowan, any others you trust, to start the rumor that Kieran lacks the courage to even suggest a flight, and it should quickly reach Kieran’s ears.”

Albyn had sought her help, but he had failed to anticipate how brilliant her strategy would be. “Aye, Kieran is so easily insulted, he’ll take the bait before he realizes it conceals a deadly hook.”

“Do not gloat,” Oriana warned. “Even if the plan works, we’ll still have the challenge of building the better wing.” She liked having both feet planted firmly on the ground, and she could not help but shudder.

Albyn nodded. “You are a most worthy queen, my lady. Now I must take my leave to put our plan in motion, but I’ll return as quickly as I can with a fine meal for Egan.”

Oriana waited until he had reached the door. “Tell the cooks that Egan is ravenously hungry.”

Albyn offered an agreeable grin, but he did not reveal he would also add that Egan was too lost in his bride to leave his chamber. That much he knew would be readily believed, and feeling more optimistic than he had in days, he left Egan’s chamber and ran for the stairs.

Egan had forced his breathing into a deep, easy rhythm, but the pain in his side made anything more than carefully imposed rest impossible. He felt Oriana move off the bed but lacked the strength to open his eyes and beg for her return.

The ale had muddled his thoughts, but he recognized the accusing tone in his once demure bride’s voice and feared she was arguing with Albyn, who in turn defended himself admirably. The subject eluded him, but their voices proved oddly soothing, and at last he fell asleep.

It was the smell of roast venison that awakened him, but rather than inspire hunger, it made him gag. “Get that away from me, or I’ll retch and rip out every damned stitch.”

Albyn carried the plate only as far as the hearth, where he had set a fire to keep Egan warm. “You have to eat,” he advised.

Egan turned his head to search for Oriana and found her gazing out the narrow windows. There were wet trails down her cheeks and although she hastened to wipe them away, it was plain she had been crying. “Don’t waste your tears while I’m alive,” he scolded.

“I’ll weep whenever I please,” Oriana responded. Then she noted more than disapproval in his glance, and feared he blamed her for the wound that could have cost him his life. “If you wish me to leave you, I’ll go now and never tell a soul we were wed.”

Astonished by her offer, Albyn turned his back and hoped they would both forget he was present. She had promised he would hear a call, and for an instant he prayed Egan would send her away, for he would gladly follow. Then he remembered how greatly his friend needed him, and although he would be badly torn, should Oriana leave, he would have to remain. Certain life would continue to provide such anguishing dilemmas, he hoped Egan would demand that she stay.

“I’ll not argue the point while I can’t leave my bed,” Egan countered, “but you’re to move to my mother’s chamber.”

Oriana’s knees felt weak, and she had to lean against the cool stone wall for support. He was going to send her away, and she knew precisely why. “I’d have warned you if I could,” she swore, so frightened she barely recognized her own voice.

“I know. Can you find my mother’s chamber? If not, Albyn will escort you.”

Clearly he wanted her out of his sight, and his cool rejection ripped her heart in two. He had sought her out for her visions, then claimed he loved only her. He had just proven otherwise, and she had never even imagined he could inflict such incredible pain. Only this time, it was not an injury Albyn could mend with a needle and thread.

“I’ll find my own way,” she announced with her last shred of dignity, and moved on shaky legs toward the door. “Just as I always have.”

Albyn admired her composure but barely managed to hold on to his own until the door had closed behind her. “What have you done?” he shouted. “I’ve never known you to be mean, but to blame Oriana for Kieran’s treachery is simply cruel.”

Too weak to argue, Egan cursed under his breath. “I’ll not have her here while I’m as helpless as a babe.”

“Oh, it’s only your pride, is it?” Albyn exclaimed with raised hands. He then refilled Egan’s cup with ale, bent to pick up the platter heaped with venison, and carried them both to the bed. “I don’t care if you get sick or not. Start eating so that you can get up off that bed and go apologize to your wife.

“She thought of a clever way to salvage a victory in the challenge, but I’ll not reveal what it is. What I will tell you, though, is that if you’re so stupid as to send Oriana away, she won’t go alone. You may be a great fool, but I’m not, and Oriana is worth more than any kingdom.”

Oriana had gone quietly, but Albyn grabbed up his cloak and slammed the door on his way out. His warning rang against the stone walls, and it was not the first time Egan had been called a fool where Oriana was concerned. But if he had trusted his own instincts rather than hers, he would not have been hurt, and he would not have had to send her away.

Until he could devise a way to keep a prophetess for a wife without heeding any more of her prophecies, he believed he was better off alone. “I know. You needn’t say it,” he begged the voice that spoke only in his head. “Without Oriana, I’ll be a fool no matter what I do.”

With that thought clearly in mind, he grabbed a hunk of venison and began to eat. As expected, his stomach lurched, but he kept right on eating because he intended to face Kieran tomorrow, and on his own terms. He just hoped he would not collapse in the dirt.

Albyn rapped lightly on Adelaine’s door, but Oriana took longer than he had anticipated to respond. Her eyes were dry, but her expression reflected her deep despair. Rather than invite him to enter as he had hoped, she remained in the doorway.

Always cautious, Albyn hid his disappointment and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Egan has never been so badly wounded, and he’s not himself. You mustn’t judge him too harshly.”

“He’s not the one being judged,” Oriana reminded him. She could not help but wonder whether his encouragement was sincere or merely a plausible excuse to see her. Whatever his reason, she took no comfort from his plea.

“You should be with Egan,” she urged. “Somehow you must inspire him to eat.”

Albyn rested an outstretched arm against the arched doorway. “For the time being, I’m going to ignore him. I left food and drink within easy reach, and he’ll just have to take care of himself.” He watched concern fill her gaze and could not help but wish it were for him rather than Egan. “You needn’t worry. I’ll look in on him before I go to sleep.”

“You mustn’t abandon him,” Oriana cautioned. “Wait a while if you must, but visit him before nightfall and sleep in his chamber tonight. He’ll suffer too greatly alone if you don’t.”

“If it will please you,” Albyn replied with a mere flash of a charming grin. “I told him you’d thought of a plan.”

Oriana shook her head dejectedly. “Now he won’t trust it.”

“Wait,” Albyn implored. “I didn’t reveal what it was, and I don’t intend to. That way, when Kieran offers a flight as the next test in the challenge, Egan’s surprise will be genuine. I’ll advise him to accept, and he’ll quickly understand why it’s to his advantage.”

When everything had gone so tragically wrong that day, Oriana found it difficult to cling to her earlier optimism. “I know you’ll do your best.”

Albyn wanted to circulate in the great hall to spread the rumor she had inspired, but he hated to leave her so dejected and alone. “You left with nothing in your hand. What may I bring you from Egan’s chamber?”

“Thank you, but I’ve been wearing Adelaine’s clothes and everything I need is already here.” Except Egan, she did not add.

“You’ll need food at least.”

“I’ve no more appetite than Egan,” Oriana replied. “Besides, you can’t bring food here and destroy the illusion of Egan’s health and happiness.”

“Unlike the homes of some great men, here there are no servants standing idly about awaiting a summons. So no one will see where I take a platter of food. You must eat too, Oriana, because I’m counting on your help to walk Egan down the stairs in the morning.”

“Going down will not be half the challenge of coming back up,” Oriana responded.

Albyn noted the determined angle of her chin, and took it as a good sign. “Tomorrow everything we do will be an illusion, but Egan will be in too much pain to notice, and Kieran is too full of himself to see through it.”

That she was plotting with a Druid was a happenstance Oriana could never have foreseen, but then, nothing had been as she had expected it since the hour Egan had entered her tent. Her former life seemed so far removed from her now, while the future was as dim as the mists hanging over Mount Royal.

“I’ll follow your lead,” she promised, but once Albyn had left, she leaned back against the door and wondered how she would survive the night, let alone tomorrow.

Chapter Sixteen

That same afternoon, Kieran succumbed to the flirtatious wiles of a charming widow. With Madi shunning him, he was more than willing to be seduced. Fiona had never made any secret of her passionate nature, and it was widely believed to have hastened her husband’s demise. Kieran, however, felt invincible that day and harbored no fear that bedding her would shorten his life.

Fiona was tall, curvaceous, and so fair that her flowing tresses shimmered with an ivory gleam. She was as lusty a lover as any man could ever hope to find, but best of all, she bore absolutely no resemblance to Madi. Kieran had not wasted a moment in conversation, but had immediately sought to satisfy their mutual cravings.

It was a diverting game, but eventually Fiona became sated and fell asleep. Kieran, however, quickly shook off the remnants of their bliss and left her bed. Fiona was a pretty thing. Not that he would have wed her, for a king has to have heirs, and since her appetite for men had brought her no babes, clearly she was barren.

He left without waking her and whistled a favorite tune as he moved with a careless swagger to his own chamber. He was eager to make ready for the night’s merriment and quickly rinsed away Fiona’s cloying perfume and dressed with meticulous care.

His cousins welcomed him into the great hall with loud whoops and cheers, but his mood remained restrained until it became obvious Egan was too severely injured to appear. He had concealed only a slender blade in his waistband and had feared it might prove too small to be effective.

Luck had been with him, however. If his good fortune held, that desperate swim would be the end of the challenge. His chest swelled with pride as he silently proclaimed himself the new ruler of the Dál Cais.

Garrick had spent the afternoon nurturing support for Kieran, and he had been gratified by the response he had received until a ridiculous rumor reached his ears. He had been astonished, but with several young men gazing up at the tapestries, he could smell the threat in the air.

He waited impatiently for Kieran to leave Bevan’s sons, and then strode to his side. “Where have you been?” he scolded under his breath, and turned away to smile confidently at those standing nearby.

Kieran took a long sip of wine before he replied, and a mischievous light brightened his dark eyes. “It was a strenuous morning. I needed a rest.”

“You weren’t in your chamber,” Garrick observed pointedly.

“The fortress has many beds, and I found another,” Kieran said with an amused chuckle. “Have you tasted the wine? Tonight’s seems especially sweet.”

Garrick grabbed Kieran’s wrist before he could down another drop. “Stay sober. You’ve not yet won the challenge, and it’s much too soon to celebrate.”

Kieran stiffened, and responded with such an icy glare, Garrick promptly dropped his hand. Still insulted, the young man chose his words with care. “Egan isn’t here, and I doubt he’ll be able to leave his bed on the morrow. If I want to celebrate that promising fact, I’ll do so with as much wine as I please.”

“The cellar does not hold enough wine to please you,” Garrick was quick to argue. “But while you’re still sober, we must make our plans. If we can count on Egan to do anything, it’s the unexpected, and while he might not be able to fight long tomorrow, he’ll fight hard. After the way you wounded him today, he’ll have no reason to temper his blows with any restraint either.”

Kieran glanced away to wink at a comely lass and continued to search the hall for Madi. That she was petite made her easy to miss, but she could not remain in her chamber all evening. “I thought you’d merely warn me not to humiliate him too badly,” he replied with a careless smirk.

Kieran was obviously in no mood to heed the wisdom of his words, but Garrick had invested far too much time and energy in tutoring him to allow him to fail. He knew precisely how to catch his attention and stepped close. “There’s talk of reviving the wings,” he confided.

Greatly intrigued, Kieran straightened to his full height. He took note of those gathered below one of the tapestries depicting an ancient flight and could barely contain his excitement. “It’s not just a legend then, such a contest is actually possible?” he asked.

Kieran had always been brash, a fault Cadell had tolerated if not encouraged, while Garrick had endeavored to rein in his charge’s youthful vigor. “Aye, it is possible, but at too great a risk.”

“And facing Egan with a broadsword poses none?” Kieran replied before breaking into another burst of chuckles.

As Ula joined them, she slid her arm around her son’s waist. She noted a lingering trace of perfume beneath the fresh scent of soap and immediately recognized its source. While she heartily disapproved of Fiona, the day had gone too well to dwell upon a brief liaison with an unsuitable companion. She had raised Kieran with an eye to the crown, but had never lost sight of the value of an occasional indulgence.

“Bets are being placed on the manner of the next contest,” she revealed. “We must appear to give credence to all suggestions, even the absurd notion of wings, but let us confer in my chamber later to weigh the value of each possibility and make the wisest choice.”

“I’ll listen with a keen ear as always, Mother, but I’m betting with my life, and the choice will be mine alone.”

Ula’s cheeks colored with fury as Kieran left them to study the tapestries on his own. “How dare he speak to me in such a disrespectful fashion?” she hissed.

Feigning tranquility, Garrick guided her toward the hearth, where he intended to ply her with wine. “You must not allow a frown to cross your brow, my lady,” he chided. “The secret of the wings has been lost, and even if Kieran is so foolish as to choose it, after a few bungling attempts to revive the art, he’ll realize his mistake. Then he’ll come begging for our sage counsel.”

“You’re overlooking the rip in Egan’s side,” Ula responded sullenly. “He’ll be unlikely to pose a threat in any manner of challenge, but there will be no excuse for a careless choice.”

“I agree, my lady,” Garrick assured her, but he refused to underestimate Egan.

Skell circled his lovely daughter. Her gown was deep blue, and with her black hair and fair skin, the effect was magnificent. “You are the most beautiful young woman in all the Dál Cais. Now come with me to the great hall, and all the men will compete to impress you. What does it matter that Kieran is behaving badly? Once he is named king, he’ll value you highly as a bride.”

Longing to be valued now, Madi’s lips were set in a childlike pout. She had always loved Kieran, and the dashing young man had been enough in himself, but she was newly intrigued by the prospect of becoming his queen.

“What if he should lose the challenge?” she asked petulantly. “Will you be so eager to have me wed him then?”

Skell paused at the doorway to give her question the consideration it deserved. Because Kieran would most likely be dead if he lost to Egan, he could see only one real possibility. “Egan is also handsome. Have you never harbored amorous feelings for him?”

Stunned by how deftly he had sidestepped her question, Madi wove a stray strand into her long braids. “I’ve not seen enough of Egan to consider him in any way,” she replied. “But he’s claimed a stranger as his wife.”

Skell walked back toward her, his long stride relaxed and confident. “Aye, so I’ve heard, and we’ll not speak of this again unless it becomes necessary, but I believe he can be made to see the wisdom in setting aside a woman who’ll bring him no staunch allies.”

“To wed me?” Madi could scarcely imagine calling Egan husband, and yet the thought of following Ula as queen of the Dál Cais held an infinite appeal.

“It’s Kieran I love,” she reminded her father. She came forward without further coaxing, and filled with a renewed sense of pride, left with Skell for the evening’s entertainment in the great hall.

Albyn had taken as generous a helping of food up to Oriana as he had carried to Egan, then had begun circulating in the great hall. In his Druid’s cloak, he faded into the shadows and listened to the conversations drifting by.

Quill had composed a new ballad about the challenge. While his verses described the combatants in heroic terms, he had wisely not prematurely taken sides. The rhythm was quick and the melody so appealing that many people were humming the tune along with the talented singer.

Albyn watched the women sway against the men and noted more than one fond caress not meant for a husband’s eyes. While some were dark, and others fair, the Dál Cais were a handsome lot, and he did not begrudge them their romantic intrigues. To be excluded increased his loneliness though, and as soon as he overheard someone exclaim that Kieran did indeed possess the courage to fly, he returned to Egan’s chamber.

As Albyn came through the door, Egan stared at him coldly. Had he not known what terrible pain it would cause himself, he would have hurled his empty platter at the Druid. “Anyone could have walked through my door,” Egan complained bitterly. “Did it not occur to you that Kieran might make a second attempt on my life?”

“As a matter of fact, it did not, but posting a guard at your door would have made you appear helpless.” Pleased that Egan felt well enough to insult him, Albyn folded his arms within his sleeves and widened his stance.

“I am helpless,” Egan nearly snarled.

“True, but you’ll feel better on the morrow. If you’ve been so eager for company, it’s a shame you sent your devoted wife away. I offered to take her whatever she might have left behind here, but she acted as though she had no belongings.”

“She doesn’t,” Egan admitted, “except for her Stones of Tomorrow.”

“What might those be?” Albyn asked with forced nonchalance. “Does she use them to tell fortunes?”

Albyn’s averted glance had not fooled Egan, especially now that he had made his interest in Oriana so plain. Early in the day, he could have discouraged that interest with his fists. Now he could only issue pathetic threats or ignore it altogether. He chose the latter.

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“I did, and she described only the voice of someone who remains unseen. Now you say she possesses some magical stones?”

Egan regretted mentioning them. “How she uses them is her secret and not mine to reveal. Now stop wasting our time and explain this clever idea she had. I can’t sleep, so I might as well devise ways to carry it out.”

“No, you needn’t do anything but listen carefully to what Kieran suggests when you next meet.” Albyn crossed to the fire and added another log.

“That is the plan, that I merely listen?” Egan raised up slightly, then fell back on the bed. “How brilliant. Fortunately, all I am able to do is listen. Has Oriana discovered a way to make listening deadly?”

“No, of course not, although I believe your uncle Yowan might be able to talk someone to death. As for Kieran, I doubt that he’ll waste a single word. Because listening will require such little effort, why not sleep?”

“I cannot even breathe,” Egan complained through clenched teeth.

Albyn came to his bedside. “Kieran’s knife bounced down your ribs. He didn’t pierce a lung.”

“Is that meant as encouragement?” Egan struggled to shift his weight to his side so that he could prop himself up on his elbow. It did not feel any worse than lying flat on his back, and it gave him the hope he would be able to get off the bed on his own.

“I don’t care what task or weapon Kieran chooses on the morrow,” Egan swore. “I’ll rip out his throat with my teeth.”

“A splendid plan, and no worse than what he did to you,” Albyn commented slyly. “Now, at least close your eyes and rest. I’ll remain to serve as your guard.” He hooked the chair with his foot and turned it toward to the door.

“Push the chair over here,” Egan ordered. “I can use it to stand.”

Albyn thought him daft. “Rest until morning.”

“Now.” Egan’s expression brooked no argument, and Albyn reluctantly set the sturdy chair beside the bed. Egan then grit his teeth and let his legs roll off the edge of the bed. After taking a firm hold on the back of the chair, he pulled himself up into a sitting position.

Every single one of his stitches offered a searing complaint with that motion, and he had to bite back the cry that rose in his throat. He waited breathlessly for the pain to subside, but then he adjusted his grasp on the chair and pushed down hard with his legs to haul himself upright. He swayed, but remained standing. Sweat poured off his brow, but he still regarded getting off the bed as a proud accomplishment.

Ready to catch him, Albyn hovered close. “There, you’ve proved you can stand. Now lie down before you faint as Oriana so often does.”

Egan counted slowly to ten before easing himself back onto the bed. He breathed in and out in short, shallow gasps to subdue the torture he had just caused himself, and then fell back down across his bed. He did not want to believe he might be too weak to face Kieran, but when it took all his strength just to stand, how was he going to leave his room?

“I won’t die like this,” he vowed, his voice hoarse from the strain.

Albyn was as terrified as Egan, but he refused to speak his fears aloud while he held the hope that Kieran had eagerly seized upon the construction of wings to continue the challenge. “You’re a very long way from death,” Albyn assured him, and quickly posed a distraction. “It occurred to me just now that it might be more than fear that sends Oriana into a faint. Have you already gotten her with child?”

Egan opened his mouth to argue he’d had scant time to accomplish that feat, but after considering the one night they had truly shared, his heart swelled with hope. “Aye,” he admitted proudly. “I may have.”

“Then rest with dreams of a son, and the morrow will dawn with a fresh ray of hope.”

“Did the Druids teach you to spout that nonsense?” Clearly disgusted, Egan pressed his shoulders down into the furs to get more comfortable and closed his eyes.

Albyn hid his smile as he crossed to the door and threw the bolt. He repositioned the chair near the fire, and satisfied they would not be attacked that night, he sat down. He gazed into the fire in an attempt to follow his own advice and relax, but his fears for Egan were far too strong to dismiss.

Oriana was also too anxious to sleep, but soon grew weary of pacing Adelaine’s chamber, and lay down upon her bed. She and her mother had never lived in a dwelling as spacious as Egan’s or Adelaine’s chambers, but as the fire died down, she took comfort in the memories of their tiny abodes.

They had lived one whole year in a stone cottage with a thatched roof that had leaked whenever it rained. She had repeatedly climbed up on that miserable old thatch to add a fresh layer of dried grass, but the next storm always brought another annoying drip. They had finally abandoned the house and for a long while had taken refuge in a snug cave.

Oriana had loved their forest homes best, although Egan would surely have mistaken the whimsical structures for heaps of kindling. They had often lived in tents and once upon a raft that floated in a placid stream.

Oriana had never heard her mother complain of their meager circumstances. Instead, Rain had always greeted each new day as an adventure, and Oriana’s childhood, while unusual, had never been unhappy. Rain had usually kept them on the move and avoided inquisitive Druids, but Oriana had always felt as though they were on an ambitious quest rather than shielding a dangerous secret.

Now she lay in a queen’s chamber, and while heartsick, had no dreams of home. All she had were memories of the one person who had truly loved her, and she hoped with all her heart that her dear mother and Lugh were together still.

It would soon be Samhain, and while the festival welcomed the winter, for a brief time at least, the barriers between earth and the Otherworld were believed to dissolve. It was on the eve of Samhain when Lugh had come for her mother. If she could not live in this world with Egan, then she would pray to enter the Otherworld, where sorrow never touched the gods, nor, she hoped, their daughters.

The next morning, Oriana knocked lightly on Egan’s door, and Albyn quickly admitted her. Among Adelaine’s many gowns, she had found one of deep purple with a matching tunic. She had tied her hair back with purple ribbons, and while she wore no jewelry other than the wooden beads Cadell had carved for Adelaine, she looked every inch a queen.

Albyn swept her with an awed glance, but she saw only Egan, who was standing beside the bed. He was dressed in clean clothing, and although he clung to the back of the chair, his posture was admirably straight. His expression was grimly determined, but his eyes were dulled by pain, and his skin pale.

Rather than approach him, Oriana remained standing just inside the door. “You look well, my lord,” she greeted him.

She was so exquisitely beautiful, Egan could almost forgive Albyn’s adoring gaze. That he had missed her terribly was something he dared not admit. Nor would he whisper a word of his hopes for a son.

“Albyn wrapped my ribs so tightly that I’m in greater danger of suffocating than I am of succumbing to another of Kieran’s vile tricks. Albyn insisted upon awaiting your arrival before we made our way down the stairs, but I’ve no need of a woman’s strength.”

Concerned, Oriana glanced toward Albyn, who simply shook his head in dismay. “You’re obviously in too much pain to think clearly, so please allow us to assist you. However you reach the bailey, you must appear strong and confident no matter how badly you actually feel. If I am with you, it will inspire trust in your abilities. If I’m not, it will be rumored that I’ve lost faith and abandoned you.”

Egan ground his teeth against the persistent pain that coursed down his side with the steady rhythm of the ocean’s waves. “That may well be true, but I don’t want you there,” he exclaimed.

“Even in your fortress, Egan, I’ll go where I please,” Oriana responded, “but I wish you had more faith in me.”

Egan flexed his hands and relaxed his grip on the chair. “Whatever Kieran proposes, I won’t forfeit the match.” He paused to gather the words that were an agony to speak. “I’ll not have you watch me die. If it’s Kieran who lives to become king, then I want Albyn to take you away. Return to the forest if you must, but you’re not to remain here to weep over my grave.”

Oriana refused to contemplate such a pitiful scene. She hated to have him suffer such unnecessary anguish, but thought it best not to give him hope for something that might not materialize. “If you are dead, I’ll leave here most willingly, but for the moment, you are very much alive. Now let’s make our way downstairs and listen to what Kieran has to say.”

“‘Listen,’” Egan mimicked rudely. “The way you listen to me?”

“Today I’ll listen only to my heart,” Oriana promised.

“Even if my disobedient bride refuses to heed my words, you are to do as I say, Albyn. If you must, flee the fortress before anyone realizes the threat Oriana poses. Give me your word you’ll not tarry.”

Albyn was also loath to admit this might be Egan’s last morning, but he forced himself to nod before turning to Oriana. “We should be prepared to leave immediately. You should bring your Stones of Tomorrow.”

If only to ease Egan’s mind, Oriana fetched the embroidered pouch from behind the chest where she had left her travel bag. She had absolutely no intention of allowing Kieran to kill Egan, and if need be, a sturdy bag weighted with stones would make an excellent weapon.

Egan watched Oriana do Albyn’s bidding and felt sick clear through. He was not afraid of dying, although he wished he could have had more time to love Oriana. He wanted to stand and fight, and now he doubted he could even walk to the door. He drew in a deep breath, let go of the chair, and the whole room spun around him.

“Egan!” Albyn cried.

Oriana rushed to Egan’s side before Albyn had taken a step. “Take my hand,” she ordered forcefully, “and I’ll guide you down the stairs.”

Egan had to fight down a wave of nausea before extending his hand, but the instant Oriana’s fingertips caressed his palm, the excruciating pain in his side lessened to a dull throb. He was still slightly dizzy, but not so unsteady that he could not walk.

“I told you I could make it,” he swore to Albyn as his friend opened the door, but he clung to Oriana’s hand and wished she had been with him in the sea.

Oriana caught Albyn’s glance and held it. They had done what they could for Egan and now had to trust that Kieran would dare Egan to fly. While any wise commander took advantage of his enemy’s weakness, she trembled with the fear that she might be leading Egan into a trap she had been unable to foretell. As they left his chamber, she felt far more helpless than he.

Chapter Seventeen

Fearing Egan might stumble, Oriana took small, careful steps as she led him down the winding staircase. He was gripping her hand so tightly, she would surely be bruised. He was causing her such slight pain compared to his, however, that rather than complain, she murmured encouragement that echoed off the stone walls that surrounded them like ghostly prayers.

Albyn was right behind Egan, ready to grab his tunic should he falter, but while their progress was painfully slow, they reached the entry chamber without mishap.

“The worst is over,” Oriana announced with forced cheer. “You needn’t speak. Simply allow Kieran to describe what he’s chosen.”

Egan curled her hand against his chest to keep her close to his side. He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes while he caught his breath.

“Is Kieran already waiting?” Egan asked. “I’ll not venture out unless he’s there.”

Albyn peered out the door, and the sound of the restive crowd swelled around them. “Aye, he’s strutting up and down like a gamecock.”

Egan could easily imagine his half brother shouting to whomever would listen that he had already won the challenge. He opened his eyes, and hoped once outside, the sun would not blind him. He gathered his resolve, but still seeking the comfort of Oriana’s touch, he kept a firm grasp on her hand.

“I doubt I can take more than ten paces. Then I’ll do my best to remain on my feet and force Kieran to come to me.” Egan paused before pushing away from the wall. “I’ll listen as you suggest, Oriana, but I’ll swear to you now that if Kieran provides an opening, I’ll kill him before he has another chance to kill me.”

Oriana had been so certain the wisest course was to protect Kieran’s life, but when Egan had suffered so greatly for that belief, she could not fault him for not keeping their bargain.

“Listen first,” she cautioned, “then do whatever you must.”

Egan longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her so thoroughly that she would never forget him, but he could not bring himself to make such an extravagant farewell gesture when she had given him every reason to live. Still, his prevalent emotion was one of stunned disbelief, for he could not understand how he had allowed himself to fall into such desperate straits.

“Open the door, Albyn, and then stay close,” he ordered.

Albyn yanked open the door and watched with utter amazement as Egan strode out into the bailey with a long, even step. He doubted his friend could project his usual confidence for long, but that he had done it at all made him want to cheer.

When Egan halted in front of the crowd, Oriana coiled herself around his left arm and braced his left leg with her right. She had never seen a man act with more courage, but too much of her plan depended upon Kieran’s choice for her to draw more than a hasty breath.

Albyn stood at Egan’s right and was equally anxious to end their horrific ordeal. To conserve Egan’s strength, he hurriedly called to Kieran. “What’s it to be, Kieran? It’s your choice today, and we’re all eager to hear it.”

Kieran approached with a lazy stroll. “Aye, I bet you are.” He favored the crowd with a knowing grin, and after a few random shouts, all fell silent. “Because challenges are so infrequent, I mean for ours to be memorable. You’ll agree with me on that score, won’t you, brother?”

Egan had no idea what Kieran was raving about, but he had already scanned the bailey for weapons and seen none. So much the better, he thought, because if Kieran came at him with his fists, then he would indeed leap on him and rip out his throat before Kieran had time to land a single punch.

Clearly growing impatient with his silence, Oriana gave him a quick nudge with her elbow. After she had been so insistent that he merely listen, he thought the gesture misplaced, but after that impertinent prompt, he offered Kieran an obliging nod.

Kieran took another step closer. He had not expected Egan to even leave his bed, and he was enjoying the discomfort it had surely caused him. “Good, we agree upon one thing at least.” He rested his hands on his hips and again smiled broadly at the crowd.

“I’ve chosen something none of us has ever seen, except in the magnificent tapestries lining the great hall. I intend to build a wing and fly. Have you the courage to match my daring, or is this the end of the challenge?”

Dumbfounded by Kieran’s outlandish choice, Egan glanced down at Oriana, and she responded with a nearly imperceptible nod. His knees threatened to buckle then, but she quickly increased her pressure along his side and saved him a humiliating fall. When he could barely stand, flight was beyond imagining, but at least he would live to see another day.

“Aye, I’ll fly,” he replied, and his words were nearly drowned out by the response of the jubilant crowd.

Again, Albyn stepped up to spare his friend further pain. “Go have your breakfast,” he suggested to Egan. “Kieran and I will work out the necessary details with Garrick and Neal.”

Recognizing that logical excuse for the blessing it was, Egan turned with Oriana still on his arm and walked back into the fortress. With others sure to follow, he led her toward the stairs, but then lacked the strength to climb. Fearing he would be unable to rise should he sit, he leaned against the arched doorway.

“Did you suspect he wanted to fly?” he asked Oriana.

Oriana raised a finger to her lips. “Later,” she promised. “Now, why don’t we eat in the great hall? You need every morsel of food you can get to regain your strength.”

Egan was too anxious to discover the secret she was so reluctant to reveal, and he was also too weak to risk mingling with others. “No, get me to my chamber.”

Oriana had been afraid there might be no return to his quarters, but she wished Albyn were there to help them. Before they could take the first step, however, Yowan came bursting through the door and rushed toward them.

He quickly looked around to make certain no one was lurking nearby, but with everyone so excited by the challenge, even the servants were outside. “I know how it’s done,” he offered in a hasty rush. “The wings were made with the same supple wood a man would use to construct a bow. We’ll need the sinews used for bowstrings too, to guide your wing. I know it all, Egan. It was told to me when I was a boy, and I’ve forgotten nothing. I swear I haven’t. Let me help you, and you’ll surely win.”

Egan had always been fond of his mother’s brother, but he had never realized how useful the man might one day be. “First help me to my chamber, and we’ll make our plans there.”

When Egan released her hand, Oriana stepped aside to allow Yowan to help him up the stairs. The passageway was narrow, and the men’s initial attempts to work together were clumsy, but at last Yowan found a way to take the burden of Egan’s weight without their becoming wedged between the walls. Still worried sick about her husband, Oriana followed a few steps behind.

When they reached Egan’s chamber, Oriana tarried outside in the corridor. She had won Egan the time to heal, but it brought little satisfaction when she blamed herself for his having been wounded in the first place. She turned as Albyn appeared.

“Why are you standing out here?” he inquired.

“I know nothing of wings, so Egan has no need of me now. I should just go back to Adelaine’s chamber,” she added absently.

“You saved his life,” Albyn insisted. “At the very least, he’ll want to thank you.”

“He might, but it won’t lighten my burden of guilt, and I don’t want to give him another opportunity to send me away.”

Unable to resist the temptation, Albyn leaned down to lightly buss her cheek. “I’d not send you away,” he promised.

Oriana had not slept well, but her thinking was not too clouded to rebuff Albyn’s subtle invitation. “Kieran may be reckless, but Egan’s flaw is his pride. I’ll not put either of your lives at risk in a foolish contest over me.

“Now go on and tell him what’s been decided. I’m sure he’s anxious to know how swiftly he must have a wing ready to fly.”

Albyn recognized the truth in her warning and reached for Egan’s door with one hand, but dropped his other arm around her shoulders. In one agile stride, he swept her along with him over the threshold. He had not expected to find Yowan present, but greeted him warmly.

Yowan pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Albyn is to be a judge, lad. How much do you want him to know?”

“Everything,” Egan assured him. He was seated in the chair, but leaning at an odd angle to favor his side. “He’ll not betray me.”

Oriana had slipped behind Albyn, but Egan could not understand why she would hide. “Where have you been?” he asked. “I thought you’d gone looking for that breakfast you insisted I eat, but here you come empty-handed.”

At the fortress, others had always brought food to her, and Oriana was not certain where to look, other than the great hall, where she would rather not go on her own. Still, she did not want him to go hungry.

She raised her hem. “I’ll find what I can.”

“Wait,” Albyn ordered. “Oriana is no servant, and I’ll not have her treated as such.”

Egan cocked his head to better assess Albyn’s critical frown. He wanted to make allowances for his friend, but as he saw it, when Albyn had leapt to Oriana’s defense, he had overstepped his bounds. “I’m not accepting challenges until I finish with Kieran, but if you wish to complain of the way I treat my wife, we can settle it then.”

“Stop it,” Oriana cried, and she quickly crossed the scattered rushes to Egan’s side. “Aren’t you in enough trouble without insulting your best friend?”

“Oriana, you’re the one who’s been insulted,” Albyn exclaimed, “when Egan ought to be praising your name to the skies.”

“Perhaps,” Oriana agreed modestly, “but when I’m unable to produce a bowl of porridge, it doesn’t really seem to matter.”

Surprised at the direction the conversation had taken, Yowan was badly embarrassed, and moved toward the door. “I could use some breakfast myself, and I’ll send the first servant I meet to bring all you’d care to eat. Then I’ll take my sons out to the forest to search for what we need.”

“Take care you’re not followed,” Egan warned, “and tell no one what you’ve told me.”

“You needn’t worry,” Yowan assured him. “I’ll not allow Adelaine’s lad to come to any harm.” He quietly closed the door on his way out.

Albyn was still ready to take exception to Egan’s reproachful glance, but convinced Oriana was right about his friend’s pride, he kept to the subject at hand. “Kieran insisted upon the eve of Samhain for the flight. That gives us only six days, but if you rest while I work on the wing, we should be ready.”

“Yowan claims to know how to build one,” Egan replied. “But rather than discuss how I’m to keep his superbly constructed wing in the air, I want you to describe this plan of yours, Oriana. You didn’t appear to be surprised when Kieran mentioned the wings. Why not?”

Oriana sent Albyn a furtive glance, then sat down upon the bed and slid the ties from her pouch containing the Stones of Tomorrow from her wrist. She ran her fingertips over the delicate embroidery as she spoke her thoughts aloud. “Every man has a flaw that can be turned against him to great advantage. It was Albyn who knew precisely what would appeal to Kieran’s reckless soul, and he inspired an enticing rumor about reviving the wings.”

Egan straightened slightly, then adjusted his posture to ease the pain. He shot Albyn an incredulous glance, but when Albyn merely shrugged, he understood what they had done in an instant. “I’ll grant you it was clever to plant an idea Kieran would swiftly seize as his own, but what makes you believe either of us can leap from Mount Royal and survive?”

“Aye, flying will be difficult,” Oriana hastened to admit, “but at least we’ve kept you alive to make an attempt.”

“And I should be grateful for that great favor?” Egan scoffed. “What I need is more ale, not impossible dreams.”

“I’ll fetch your ale,” Albyn volunteered, “but if it’s hope you need, perhaps Oriana will find some in her magical stones.”

Caught in a lie she had no wish to perpetuate, Oriana wadded the soft leather pouch into a lumpy ball. She was known for the accuracy of her prophecies rather than the manner in which she gave them, but it still hurt to admit the pretty stones lacked any magical properties.

Oriana appeared so confused and hurt, Egan regretted being so curt with her. “She’s told us both about the voices. If she’s no wish to display her talent with her Stones of Tomorrow, then let her be. Just fetch the ale, and I’ll be grateful.”

Albyn could not make himself leave while Oriana was so troubled. He spoke in a soft, encouraging tone. “You needn’t be afraid to tell us what the Stones reveal. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

Both the kindly Druid and her husband wore expressions of such tender concern, it made her situation all the worse. They had earned the right to the truth, but telling it might make them suspect all she spoke were compelling fabrications. It was a risk she would rather not take, but in good conscience, she had no other option.

“I collected the Stones in our travels,” she explained haltingly. “I used to lay them out in a row and recount where they’d been found. My mother made the bag from a cobbler’s scraps and embroidered it one summer. It was the people who saw me carrying it who assumed it contained something precious.

“The way people stared at me when I told fortunes always made me horribly uncomfortable, but I found if I gave them one of my treasured Stones to hold, they would turn it over in their hands and study it rather than gawk at me. It was my mother who began calling them my Stones of Tomorrow, and she’s the one who helped me devise their fanciful names. It became the seeker’s choice then, but regardless of which Stone they selected, I relied upon the knowing, the voice that guides my prophecies, for the truth.”

She had to force herself to look up, but her companions’ expressions had merely filled with confusion rather than the disgust she had feared. When neither had an immediate comment, however, her heart sank under the weight of their silent disapproval. Still clutching the leather bag of her childhood keepsakes, she rose and left the chamber before either could condemn her aloud.

Albyn felt sick with disappointment, for at Egan’s first mention of the Stones of Tomorrow, he had hoped that Oriana might be persuaded to teach him how they were used. All he had found, however, was yet another empty illusion rather than the deep insight he craved.

“I’d hoped for more than a fancy bag of souvenirs,” Albyn muttered dejectedly.

“What does it matter if she rolled acorns in a bowl before telling fortunes? Her prophecies are painfully accurate. When we met, she warned me of a terrible danger and insisted that I should return home with all possible haste. I laughed at her show of concern and had to become her champion to entice her into coming home with me. But the closer we came to the fortress, the more she was convinced that someone I loved was dead. After we arrived, she insisted the danger to me had not passed. Now, which of those prophecies would you care to disparage?”

“None,” Albyn exclaimed, for Oriana had been accurate with each one, but he still felt a fool for having hoped he had finally found the key that would unlock the mysteries of the future. He took a reluctant step toward the door. “There are herbs which might dull your pain better than ale. There was simply no time to seek them out yesterday.”

Egan shook his head emphatically. “Poison is too easily concealed in bitter herbal brews, and I’ll not risk it.”

Egan’s expression was far too serious for Albyn to discount his fears. “We’ve had no time to talk about Cadell, but do you suspect he might have been poisoned?”

Weary, Egan rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Aye, I do, but it wasn’t to hand me the crown.”

Intrigued, Albyn sank down on the bed. “Kieran, then,” he proposed. “But Ula would have known, and she adored Cadell, or at least that’s the way she behaved when I left to join the Druids. Had she and your father become estranged?”

It pained Egan to recall how deeply devoted a wife Ula had been. “No. Whenever I saw them together, she was wrapped around his arm or fondling him openly. She listened to his every word with a rapt attention I wish Oriana would display. But …”

“But what? You’ve described only Ula’s actions. How did your father treat her?”

“I barely remember my mother,” Egan finally confessed. “But when my parents were together, it was my father who always held her in a warm embrace. What I recall most vividly was how often they laughed together. My father was kind to Ula, respectful, but they shared little hearty laughter.”

A loud knock at the door announced the arrival of Egan’s breakfast. Albyn admitted a pair of shy young women, and he was pleased to find they had brought a large pitcher of ale. He kept silent as the servants placed the tray on Egan’s bed, giggled into their hands, and brushed by him on their way out.

“Eat and sleep,” Albyn suggested. “I have neglected my fellow Druids and must make up for it this very day. If there was a plot to give Kieran the crown, then someone will know of it. Such an evil secret will be difficult to keep.”

“Take care,” Egan warned. “Do as Oriana suggests and just listen rather than ask questions and reveal our suspicions.”

“Aye, she possesses extraordinary wisdom. I’ll return in the afternoon. Would you care to send a message to your dear wife now?”

“No, let her rest. As for any others you may meet, do not even whisper my name,” he warned.

Albyn readily understood the need for discretion and pulled the door shut behind him. He and Egan had exchanged their fears concerning Cadell’s death in their first conversation, but there was an enormous difference between nagging suspicion and indisputable fact.

The coming of Samhain and the excitement of the challenge were bringing more people into the fortress each day. At present, there was an uneasy balance between the clans that supported Egan and those more closely related to Ula, who had taken Kieran’s side. Careless accusations of murder could easily incite a deadly melee that only a few warriors might survive.

Neither he nor Egan would risk the fate of their tribe for revenge, but neither could step aside to allow murderers to rule the Dál Cais either. He entered the great hall and joined a table of Druids at breakfast, but the glances they sent him were all forbidding, and their conversation disclosed nothing of value.

Then he remembered the bard, Quill.

Egan made a sincere attempt to eat, but even the fresh-picked berries tasted no better than lumps of sand. He took a long drink of ale and gazed about his chamber. Nothing was out of place, nor did a particle of dust rest on any surface, but rather than a well-kept room, all he saw was pathetic emptiness.

It was his own fault, but that made it no easier to bear. He shifted uncomfortably, knowing precisely what he had to do to lift his downcast mood. He rose shakily to his feet. Fatigued by his earlier exertions, he used first the chair, and then the walls for support. Gaining confidence, he made his way down the corridor, past the stairs, and down the adjoining corridor to his mother’s room.

With all the effort it had taken him, he hoped that Oriana would be there rather than out on the bluff serenely contemplating the sea. He rapped lightly, but when there was no response, he cursed his own miserable weakness. He quickly decided to wait for her there rather than make the long trek back to his own chamber, but when he shoved open the door, he found her sound asleep on the bed.

He doubted she would welcome him, but as he began to sway, he had to catch himself, and ceased to worry over how he would be greeted. He could hear voices on the stairs, and in no mood to speak to anyone, he moved into the chamber, swung the door closed, and threw the bolt.

When Oriana did not stir, he made his way to the bed and carefully eased himself down beside her. That it took him so long to simply sit completely disgusted him, but he gradually lowered himself down on his side, and then slowly rolled to his back. Since he moved with the grace of a man older than the tallest trees, he was relieved Oriana had not been awake to observe him.

Then it occurred to him that she had probably not slept at all last night, and after the way he had sent her away, he was certain she had been not merely lonely, but badly hurt.

He longed to hold her in a comforting embrace, but could only rest his arms at his sides and dream of the day when he would again be strong enough to show her how much he loved her in the way he liked best. A slight smile crossed his lips as he fell asleep, and his dreams were filled with loving her.

Oriana sensed Egan’s presence before she came fully awake. He was breathing so deeply, she doubted that he would awaken for hours, but she was surprised he had come to her chamber to nap. Perhaps he felt guilty for banishing her from his quarters yesterday, but that he had sought her out made it plain he did not wish to be alone today.

Despite her rest, she still felt drained, but rose, shook the wrinkles from her gown, and paced slowly as she combed out her hair. In just six days, Egan would have to build a wing and master the art of flight. His uncle Yowan was eager to assist, but the enterprise would still be fraught with danger.

She tried to imagine Egan soaring aloft and instantly remembered the magnificent hawk they had spied while out hunting.

“Wake up!” she cried, and she quickly sat down beside Egan and squeezed his knee.

Egan opened one eye. “Is the fortress ablaze?” he asked sleepily.

“Nay, my lord, but I’ve thought of something important.” Now afraid she should have let him sleep, she started to rise, but Egan caught hold of her arm to keep her in place.

“You have my attention,” Egan assured her. “Speak.”

Fearing the newly created tie between them had grown tenuous, Oriana had to swallow hard first. “Albyn told me your men used to soar with a single wing and glide like a falcon on the wind. Before you practice with your wing, I believe you should take your hawks out and closely observe how they sail the sky in lazy spirals. The man who most closely duplicates the ease of a falcon will surely win.”

Egan studied the sweetness of her profile and wondered how he had managed to survive without her for twenty-seven years. “Aye, that’s a good plan. I’ll give it a try but you must come along with me just as soon as I can sit a horse.”

“We have only six days,” she reminded him.

“I’ll not waste them,” Egan replied, and her smile turned so wistful, he was inspired to apologize. “I should not have sent you away …,” he began, but then words failed him.

“I understand. You’re a proud man, and it pained you more to be helpless than to suffer the injury itself.”

Even that much was difficult for Egan to concede. “Pride is my flaw, isn’t it? A clever enemy would use my own pride against me. Perhaps Kieran already has.”

“Perhaps, but I’m guilty of it too. I’m Lugh’s daughter, after all, and have survived by my wits alone as few women are able to do.”

“Few men either,” Egan added. “Now, I need your help with something other than flight. From the instant I learned of my father’s death, I’ve been haunted by the horrible possibility that he may have been murdered.”

Oriana had hoped he had simply missed her company, but perhaps all he had truly missed were her insights. “People are murdered for a reason,” she observed. “Why would anyone wish him dead?”

Egan tried to prop his hands behind his head but the motion stretched his sore side too badly and forced him to lie still. “To create chaos among the Dál Cais and defeat us in battle. But to poison an enemy is the height of cowardice.”

Oriana rested her hand lightly upon his thigh. “In addition to being cowardly, poison is a woman’s weapon.”

Egan turned the idea in his mind. “Are you accusing Ula? While my father never admitted it, I always believed he was still in love with my mother; but Ula was so attentive, I never doubted her love for him.”

“Yet if you’re right, someone wanted him dead,” Oriana mused thoughtfully. “While we were traveling, you described your father’s expertise in settling disputes. Isn’t that usually the Druid’s realm?”

“Aye, they serve as judges and settle most arguments elsewhere, but my father had a passion for justice and truth, and most came to him with their complaints rather than consult Garrick. Garrick led all the festivals though, and conducted the sacrifices with such lavish ceremonies that it never occurred to me he might be bored.”

“Not bored, jealous,” Oriana corrected. “And jealousy can be a terrible flaw.”

The possibility of truth in Oriana’s words sickened him. “I told you Garrick and Ula might be lovers. Perhaps he was also jealous of my father’s hold on the woman he loved. With my father dead, he might have thought he would then be the ultimate judge among the Dál Cais, and he would have Ula as well.”

Oriana had to rub her arms to shake off a chill. “The man has always frightened me, but I think he’d be wary of you. How could he have trusted your fate to Kieran?”

Egan could barely contain a derisive snort. “When I need help to take more than a few steps, I’d say Kieran has justified his faith thus far.”

Oriana needed a long moment to reflect before deciding it was time to reveal her suspicions about Adelaine. “I climbed the stairs to the battlements not to admire the view, but to see where your mother fell to her death. You’ve been on the wall walk; how do you imagine that she could have tripped and fallen through a crenellation when they are so high?”

The hideous sight of his mother’s lifeless body flashed in Egan’s mind, and he quickly shook it off. As a child, he had shut away the tragic circumstance of her death and not examined it since. Now he realized his error.

“She’d not have leapt to her death,” he swore. “She loved my father and me too dearly.”

Oriana laced her fingers in his. “I’ve not spoken of her to spare you pain, but her spirit lingers here with an anguishing sorrow. Could someone have murdered your mother to provide an opening for your father to take a second wife? Then could your father have been murdered to make way for that woman’s son to rule?”

Egan stared at his bride as he considered the years such a fiendish plot would have required. “The Dál Cais have suffered through all manner of treachery, but if Ula’s clan wanted Kieran named king, why was I allowed to live? I’ve traveled alone for years, and I’ve not been set upon by assassins.

“That I’m alive makes it doubtful that Ula’s clan produced anything approaching the evil you imagine. Quite frankly, the whole lot lack sufficient imagination.”

“At this point, we ought not to underestimate anyone,” Oriana stressed. “Madi is related to Ula, isn’t she?”

“Aye, they’re cousins.”

Egan apparently did not think it a significant link, but Oriana did. “Madi’s father is Garrick’s brother, is he not?”

“Aye, Skell resembles him closely, but Garrick arrived here with Ula, not before.” Tired of contemplating murder, Egan pulled her down beside him. “It’s being here in this dank fortress that’s depressed you. In a few days, I’ll be able to take you out to the forest, where the sunlight will brighten your mood.”

Oriana cuddled against him as though she agreed, but until she had seen him fly and land his wing safely, nothing would bring her good cheer.

Chapter Eighteen

Egan took Oriana’s hand in a tender clasp and laid it on his left side. “Your touch eases the pain. Is it an effort for you?”

Oriana’s insides had been twisted in knots since Kieran had cut Egan, and she could not believe her touch could be more than sweetly soothing. “No, but when I’ve caused you this agony, I wish I did possess a gift for healing.”

“I believe you do, and you’re not to blame that I’m in need of it. I’ve never treated Kieran as a brother. You wisely warned me of the danger of creating enemies in my own home, but it was too late. I’ve caused my own misery, and I’ll get myself out.”

“You have to!” Oriana exclaimed.

“Hush,” Egan scolded softly. “I feel better just being with you.”

His compliment pleased her, but even if he had not mentioned her pitiful lack of success at telling fortunes of late, she knew her earlier confession had to have disappointed him.

“You’re not angry that my Stones of Tomorrow aren’t enchanted?” she asked.

“Nay, and at least one of them is,” he murmured.

“Your amethyst?”

“Aye. It led me straight to you.” Egan wished he could laugh as he teased her, but he could not risk more than a sly grin.

Oriana’s curiosity made her bold. “If my touch eases your pain through your tunic and bandage, wouldn’t it feel even better against your bare skin?”

It was a logical assumption, but Egan had spent so long donning his tunic, the thought of removing it exhausted him. Having to gaze down at his wound was also distasteful. “Slip your hand under my tunic and rest it lightly on the bandage. Give me a moment to judge how that feels before I strip down to my skin.”

Fearing she would cause him more pain, Oriana slid her hand slowly under his tunic and ran a tentative caress over the linen bandage. She was cautious, but her arm brushed across his groin, and immediately aroused, he moaned deep in his throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” she apologized.

Egan locked his fingers around her wrist before she could withdraw her hand. “I’m a man, and it’s natural for me to respond to your touch. Relax and just rest here with me a while longer. Then maybe I’ll feel well enough to engage in something far more entertaining.”

She knew precisely what entertainment he had in mind, and fearing he would rip out his stitches and leave them both awash in his blood, tranquility eluded her. She lay pressed against his side, and attempted to replace the bloody images cluttering her mind with the serenity of the forest. She was only partly successful, but she was greatly relieved when Egan’s breathing slowed, and he returned to his dreams. Oriana remained convinced the falcons had inspired Egan’s ancestors to craft wings. There was much to be learned from the elegant birds, and she hoped Egan would soon be well enough to venture out and observe them.

Ula circled the men who argued over how to best construct a wing, but Kieran ignored her summons until he was satisfied they had hit upon the best method. He then followed her to her chamber, and the instant he had closed the door, she began to berate him in a furious shriek.

“Egan should already be dead. He was pale, wavering slightly as he stood, and if you’d only taken up a sword against him, he’d have offered no more resistance than a kitten. But no, you had to take to the skies!”

Kieran caught her wrist before her palm grazed his cheek, but he was more amused than offended. “You voiced your opinion on the subject last night, Mother, but my choice was already made. Father seldom accepted your advice. Why do you expect me to heed it?”

“You are my son,” Ula reminded him in a threatening hiss.

“And also Cadell’s,” Kieran countered smoothly. “I will be king, but I’ll win that honor in my own way. Egan will be no more able to fly in six days than he could have fought me today. But by choosing the wings, I’ve shown a daring no other man can match. Mark my words, it will serve me well when I rule.”

Ula dug her nails into her palms and welcomed the pain. “Cadell would have struck swiftly. He’d not have given an enemy six days to prepare. I pray your arrogant bid for glory doesn’t cost you the crown.”

“It’s already mine,” Kieran boasted proudly. He risked stepping close to kiss her cheek, but hurried out the door before she could again raise her hand to him.

Kieran had once been a dutiful son, and though Ula was proud to have raised such a handsome and clever young man, she soundly cursed his defiance. Even worse, he had shamed her by noting how frequently Cadell had dismissed her opinions.

She had loved Cadell with all her heart, but to her great despair, she had never truly won his. She had given him a fine son, but as the firstborn, Egan had been a constant reminder of the dear wife he had lost. Cadell had mourned his beloved Adelaine with his dying breath.

Ula knotted the ends of her long sleeves as she paced her chamber, and, not satisfied to rely on Kieran’s luck to hold, she began to plot ways to destroy Adelaine’s son on her own. What was needed was a vicious enemy to do the deed, and she swiftly recalled how Egan had battled Duncan O Floinn over the bitch he had brought home. Perhaps Duncan would relish another chance to fight Egan, and she would gladly award him the haughty Oriana as the victor’s prize.

Delighted by the prospect of ridding the fortress of two distressing problems, she ran to her door. Garrick would know how to summon Duncan, and she rushed down the winding stairs to find him.

Kieran found Madi strolling the bluff, her hair blowing with the beauty of silk ribbons in the wind. He accurately assessed her mood from the stiffness of her shoulders, and after reaching her side, he remained quiet until her curiosity got the better of her, and she glanced up at him.

“Have you missed me?” he asked.

Madi’s first impulse was to shove him off the bluff, but she controlled it. “What is there to miss in a suitor who fails to value my virtue?”

Kieran feared all women were as vain as his mother, and because flattery worked so well on Ula, he relied upon it now. “What of a suitor who would rather become king himself than have to beg for the privilege of wedding his lady? I’ve risked my life for you, Madi. No man could offer more.”

“You’ll risk your life, but not your pride,” Madi repeated numbly. “Why should that please me?”

“No man worthy of the name will sacrifice his pride for a woman,” Kieran argued. “But think what you will. In six days I’ll be king of the Dál Cais, and regardless of how fine a dowry your father provides, I’ll match it. Now kiss me as you always have.”

Rather than turn toward him as he took her hand, Madi continued to gaze out at the sea, where the sifting gray-green mirrored her own fractured mood. She recognized the mention of a simple kiss as yet another attempt to lure her into his bed before they were truly wed.

“While it appears unlikely, what if Egan should win the challenge? Will you again refuse to have him arrange our marriage?” she asked.

Shocked by the lack of faith her question implied, Kieran grabbed hold of her tiny waist and pulled her close. His dark eyes narrowed as he exposed her query for the folly it was. “Has it not occurred to that devious mind of yours that if I lose, I’ll not be welcome here? My brother won’t arrange our marriage; he’ll likely toss me out the gate. Rather than a wife, I’ll have need of a sword and a fleet horse.”

The sun turned her hair a rich blue-black, and the salty breeze whipped at her long gown. The sea mimicked the roar of a wildly cheering crowd. Despite the combined assault on her senses, her thoughts remained crystal clear. She had always loved him, but if she gave herself to him and he lost the crown, then she would be left with nothing, not even her pride. He wanted so much more than a kiss, but had not even considered how dearly it might cost her.

She placed her hands upon his chest and shoved hard. “If it’s only the king who’ll need a wife, then come to me when you’re our king, and not before.”

Rather than release her, Kieran wound a hand in her hair and bent her head back for a bruising kiss. He punished her with his lips until she was breathless. Then he strode off the bluff intent upon finding Fiona, who would welcome him with gentle laughter and eager kisses rather than tedious arguments over pride.

Albyn had set out early in the day to speak to Quill, but he was unable to find anyone who could actually swear to having seen the bard in the bailey that morning. When he finally found the poet asleep in the stable, he had to bend down and shake him awake.

Quill yawned and stretched, but as he took in his unexpected surroundings, he could not imagine why he had spent the night with the horses. He only dimly recalled a buxom lass who had begged him to sing after they had made love, but doubted he had bedded her there.

His harp lay at his side with nary a string broken, but his clothes were wrinkled, and one foot was bare. He rose shakily, and after waving Albyn aside, searched for his missing shoe. When at last he found it buried beneath the straw, he slipped it on and carried his harp out into the sunlit afternoon. He smelled more like a horse than he cared to, but with the fortress so crowded, he thought he would be lucky to find a bucket in which to bathe.

“I’ve need of you, Quill,” Albyn confided.

The name rang with a painful echo in the bard’s head, and he raised a hand to plead for silence. “It matters not at all what you need, Druid. It is an inopportune time.”

Albyn rested his hands on his hips. Quill appeared to be a few years older than he, but that might have been due to a hard night that had left his fair hair tangled, his face puffy, and his eyes bloodshot and weary.

“My name is Albyn. I’ve not seen you so disheveled. I’ll walk you to your chamber, and we’ll talk while you prepare for the evening.”

“The two of us won’t fit in my humble chamber. Indeed, I can barely turn around when alone.” He covered a wide yawn and shoved his hair out of his eyes. A man of medium height, he had to squint to avoid the sun’s glare as he looked up at Albyn.

Albyn gestured broadly. “Then you must come to mine. While modest, there is ample room for the discussion I require.”

Puzzled, Quill frowned unhappily. “Is this about the lass? If you want her, we’ll have no quarrel. She is yours.”

Albyn had to laugh. “The lass I want would not leave me at risk of being trampled while I slept. Now come along.”

“Is it a song you want?” Quill asked as they climbed the stairs.

Albyn waited until they had entered his chamber to answer. Its size was more suitable to the lad he had been, but it was still adequate for his needs. “I want more than music. Sit on the bed if you like,” he invited. “You’ll find it far softer than the straw clinging to your hair.”

Quill sank down on the bed, and then had to fight the temptation to stretch out upon it. He felt stiff and sore. Worse yet, the gap in his memory made him wonder if he would even recognize last night’s companion when she next appeared. Because he greeted every pretty lass with a smile, he hoped he would not offend her.

Albyn leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Your rhymes are clever and everyone is humming your tunes. How long have you been here?”

Quill was far too smart not to recognize a compliment often preceded a curse, but he bowed his head as though he were extremely flattered. “I’m pleased you appreciate my talents. This will be my fourth winter at the fortress.”

“Good. You’re present at most gatherings. I’d like you to recall the time before Cadell fell ill. Were there any unusual visitors? Had he settled any violent disputes? Had he been involved in any bitter arguments himself? What of Ula? What was her mood this last summer?”

Quill came fully alert. He listened attentively to each of Albyn’s questions and grew increasingly frightened by their direction. “What are you seeking?” he blurted out.

“The truth. What do you recall?”

Quill clutched his harp tightly on his lap. “Cadell heard all manner of disputes, some serious, some silly. Most involved stray cattle or lambs whose ownership was questioned. One man accused another of seducing his wife. But Cadell always listened to each complaint with a thoughtful frown, and he settled every argument with admirable wisdom.”

“What did he do with the unfaithful wife?”

“The couple had no children, so he advised her to divorce her husband and return to her father. The husband was glad to be rid of her, and the second man eager to pursue her. All were happy.”

“Aye, Cadell created remarkably peaceful times,” Albyn murmured thoughtfully.

“Prosperous as well,” Quill added, but his glance quickly shifted toward the floor.

“Speak. It will go no further,” Albyn encouraged.

“Do you take me for a fool? You are Egan’s friend.” In a flash Quill’s expression filled with dismay. “Did I sleep right through the final challenge?”

“Nay, wings are being built so that Kieran and Egan may fly on the eve of Samhain.”

Quill could barely contain himself then, and his fingers played nervously over his harp. “They mean to fly? Then I’ve verses to compose and must go.”

Albyn just shook his head. “I heard that along with Cadell, many fell ill. Were you among them?”

“No, but then I eat scraps from the kitchen, rather than dine at his table.”

“So, you do believe that he was poisoned,” Albyn observed.

“I’ve accused no one!” Quill sent an apprehensive glance toward the door, but feared Albyn would surely block his way if he tried to flee. He felt trapped, and hoping to escape, pointed out the obvious. “If someone did poison Cadell, it wouldn’t have been in the great hall where others would have witnessed the deed.”

“Of course not,” Albyn agreed. “But you have no suspicions?”

Again, Quill looked away quickly. He did indeed harbor a few dangerous thoughts, but so did many others at the fortress. His life had been good there, however, and he wanted it to continue in the same fashion. But he did feel he owed Cadell more than strained silence.

“I wrote a song for Cadell that he cautioned me to sing only for him,” Quill reluctantly revealed. “It was of Adelaine, whom he had adored. Often in the evenings, he would pretend to listen as Ula spoke at length on whatever caught her fancy, but his gaze was filled with the same longing as when I sang of his beloved Adelaine.”

That Cadell still dreamed of Adelaine was a valuable piece of information, and Albyn doubted he would get more from the unkempt bard. He reached to open his door. “I look forward to hearing your new verses tonight, Quill. If you should think of something more, whether it be a casual comment you overhear, or a careless gesture that brings to mind something important, come straight to me. I’ll find a way to reward you, and I’ll not reveal the source.”

Quill nodded, but he wanted no part in talk of murder and vowed to keep the rest of his thoughts to himself.

Albyn knew he might lack Cadell’s wisdom, but he was smart enough to recognize how easily Ula could have poisoned her husband. She was a demanding woman, and it must have torn at her heart to have had to vie with the memory of a dead woman for her husband’s affections. She had ample opportunity to be alone with Cadell, and his untimely death would not have diminished her circumstances in the slightest.

He knew precisely where she would have gotten a villainous brew: from Garrick, who never strayed far from her side. Albyn had no interest in mixing potions himself, but many Druids took great pleasure in creating everything from love charms to poisons for the damned, and he considered it likely that Garrick was such a man.

An old Druid had died. Had that merely been a test, or a mistake in dosage? Ula could have sampled the potion rather than feign an illness, and then when Cadell cared for her, given him a lethal dose. It was a horrible possibility that completely sickened him, but if a fine man like Cadell had been murdered, he deserved to be avenged.

Depressed by the fortress and its dark intrigues, Albyn left for a long stroll along the sea. He welcomed the change of scene and the tiring exercise, but not the first faint chill of winter in the air.

When he returned to Egan’s chamber and found it empty, he panicked and raced down the corridor to find Oriana. She answered his knock promptly, but then raised a fingertip to her lips to plead for silence. Gazing past her to the bed, Albyn was so relieved by how peacefully Egan was sleeping that he wanted to shout.

Unwilling to disturb Egan, he drew Oriana out into the corridor. “I’m surprised Egan got this far on his own,” he said, “but this is where he belongs.”

“None of us belongs in this dreadful place,” Oriana countered, and she hugged her arms against the perpetual chill. “I long for the peace of the forest.”

“The forest is a cold and forbidding place in winter,” Albyn said, recalling it from bitter experience. “You’ll be far more comfortable here.”

“If we are here,” Oriana whispered apprehensively.

The sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart, but she was not his woman to comfort. To avoid that temptation, he folded his hands behind his back. “I’ve never known Egan to fail.”

“You are a true friend to have such unshakable faith in him, but he’s never tried to fly, has he?”

“He’ll fly. There are a great many on his side, and we’ll make certain he has the superior wing and the better flight.”

“I know you’ll try, but I’m still sick with worry. I’ve never cared for autumn,” she confided. “With Samhain, winter begins with its freezing rains. Families gather around their hearth to reminisce or plan for long summer days, but it’s a trying time for wanderers.”

That she had yet to accept how greatly her life had changed puzzled Albyn. “The queen of the Dál Cais doesn’t wander,” he reminded her.

Oriana paused to look in on Egan before she replied. “I can’t think of myself as queen when nothing has gone well for Egan since the afternoon we met. Should he win the challenge and become king, I fear another calamity will swiftly befall him. And then another and another until he throws me from the wall walk just as—”

Horrified by the image that had flashed in her mind’s eye, Oriana sagged back against the doorway. She had never met Cadell, but it had been his name she had nearly spoken.

“Forgive me,” she begged, and in a rush to escape him, she turned toward her chamber.

“No, wait.” Albyn reached out to catch her arm. “Are you thinking of Adelaine? If she didn’t fall to her death, then who killed her?”

Oriana was now desperate to avoid him. “I’m tired. I’ve not slept well, and you mustn’t give my wild ravings any credence.

“Egan will surely be hungry when he wakes,” she hastened to suggest. “Please send a servant with food for him. Then find Yowan and determine what progress he’s made today. He needn’t come here to speak with Egan himself. You can convey his report on the morrow.”

They had talked easily for a short while, and Albyn was sorry she had become so anxious to be rid of him. “It must be very difficult for you when disturbing thoughts of others intrude so unexpectedly,” he mused aloud.

Oriana had calmly listened to the knowing and provided thoughtfully embellished fortunes for as long as she could remember, but nothing had prepared her for a life with Egan, where death and danger leapt from every corner.

“Beyond your wildest imagining,” she replied, and closed the door to send him on his way.

“What’s beyond imagining?” Egan asked. He rolled onto his side and straightened his arm to shove himself into an upright position.

“The possibility of flight,” Oriana answered as she rushed to assist him.

“I can manage on my own,” Egan responded crossly, but once he had sat up straight, he had to lean back against the wall to catch his breath. He had sincerely believed Oriana’s touch would heal the long cut in his side, but it was not happening nearly as rapidly as he had hoped.

At his rebuff, Oriana had drawn back and begun to pace beside the bed. She hugged her arms, then plucked at her sleeves before retracing her path with a distracted step. He wanted her beside him, but it was obvious she would not be able to sit still.

“I shouldn’t have spoken so sharply,” he murmured, “but I can’t rely on your help. I need to care for myself.”

Oriana lengthened her stride to cross the chamber, then pivoted gracefully to come back toward the bed. “I understand, and I want you to be well. You were born to be king, and I love you with all my heart, but I can’t spend my life imprisoned in this awful fortress, or I will surely lose my mind. My sanity may already be slipping away.”

She was dressed in a beautiful gown, and her hair was again neatly combed, but each time she glanced toward him, flames seemed to dance in her eyes. He did not know whether to laugh or cry, and when either activity would doubtless prove excruciating, he could only watch her and wait for inspiration.

“It appears I’m a very poor husband,” he finally offered, “for no new bride should be as unhappy as you.”

“I’m not merely unhappy,” Oriana explained. “I’m terrified that we’re caught in a violent whirlpool that will keep spiraling downward until we’re drowned beneath its weight.”

Egan was equally depressed by that frightening image. “Doomed,” he muttered.

“Aye. Cursed.” Oriana kept up her brisk walk beside the bed, but she looked as though she would rather run.

“The Dál Cais have always been lucky. Why should we be cursed?” he asked.

Oriana halted in midstride, but she could not bring herself to describe her fear: she suspected that his father had murdered his mother. “I’ll not speculate on the cause, but I fear we’ll not escape it,” she responded.

Egan refused to allow her mood to deteriorate any further. With only one attractive option open to him, he seized it. “Bolt the door.”

Oriana’s frown deepened, but he had issued a command, not a polite request, and she quickly complied. “Did you hear footsteps? I’ve no weapons here. Will we need them?”

“No. We’re safe for the moment, but we don’t want to be disturbed while we’re making love.”

Caught by surprise, Oriana remained by the door. “You’re not well enough,” she argued softly.

Egan gestured for her to approach him. He did not care if he was risking his health when Oriana was in such great need of reassurance, and he lowered his voice to a more seductive level. “There are many ways to make love, and we’ll indulge in one that won’t cause any harm to either of us. Now come here and sit across my lap.”

Blessed with a vivid imagination, Oriana readily grasped what he had in mind, but she was still reluctant to join him on the bed. “No, I’ve not been with you enough. I’ll be too clumsy and hurt you.”

“Oriana,” he nearly sang, “you’re never clumsy.” He unfastened his belt to loosen his pants, but still she did not move. Where was the confident young woman who had shocked him by stepping out of her shift? he wondered. Of course, that was before she had seen Kieran carve up his side. And before he had stupidly sent her away. It was no wonder she was so skittish.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted only to please you. Just come sit beside me here on the bed, and we’ll see which of us can guess what they’ll bring us for dinner.”

It was such a silly contest, Oriana could not help but smile, and relieved he had given up on making love, she crawled up on the bed and made herself comfortable by his side. “You have the advantage because you know all the likely possibilities,” she complained. “I’d not eaten wild boar until I came here, and I’ve no idea what wonders might be served tonight.”

Egan fought to contain the width of his grin as he slid his arm around her shoulders to pull her close. “Fish, perhaps.”

“Oysters?” Oriana guessed.

“Aye, oysters would be far better than gruel.” He took her left hand in his and brought her fingertips to his lips.

“When have you ever been served a bowl of gruel, my lord?” He was warm, and she relaxed against him. His kiss on her palm tickled, and she laughed.

She looked up at him and watched his eyes close as he bent his head to kiss her. As their lips met, she knew she had been tricked. Still, it was a long, slow, luscious kiss that turned her thoughts in the direction of his. His taste was delicious, and silently begging for more, she leaned into him.

He shifted position slightly to slip his hand beneath her gown and caressed her foot, then encircled her calf, and spread an adoring trail up the length of her thigh. Oriana remained hesitant to go any further, but when Egan was moving so slowly, and enticing such delicious sensations, she swallowed her protests and kissed him again. He slipped his fingers between her legs to tease her with sweet, fluttering strokes that made her ache for more, but even as her breathing quickened, she relaxed to allow him to set the pace.

Egan enjoyed going slowly with Oriana. He was thrilled to have such a responsive bride, and that her slender body held so many tantalizing curves and inviting crevices provided him with nearly endless inspiration. He used her own wetness to smooth his fingertips and traced the same intimate patterns he had once savored with his tongue.

When she began to gasp, he took a firm hold on her waist to lift her across his lap, and with no further complaints of inexperience, she freed him from his soft woolen pants and guided him into her core. She rolled her hips to take him deep, but she felt so hot and tight, he held her still to prolong the glorious sensation.

He wound his hands in her hair to pull her mouth back to his and kissed her, his thrusts deepening as she tensed her inner muscles around him. He was in no pain at all and risked dropping his hands to her hips to raise her slightly and then lowered her in an easy twisting motion that pleasured them both. He had never restrained himself with another woman, but moving with such deliberate care heightened each exquisite sensation.

Balanced on her knees, Oriana rose up, and then again took him deep. She had such delicacy and grace, and yet a hunger that matched his own. She coaxed the response he fought to withhold, and all too soon a consuming desire outstripped his restraint.

Egan smothered an exultant cry in her curls and felt her responding joy shudder through them both. He kept her locked in an embrace until his arms began to ache with the effort, but even then, he was reluctant to let her go.

“If this is a curse,” he whispered, “then I welcome it without a trace of dread.”

Oriana rolled her hips against his and felt him again swell within her. She moved with a graceful dip to ease the tantalizing ache. Then, fearing pleasure this great would surely cost them dearly, she lost herself in his kiss rather than weep for a future they might not live to share.

Chapter Nineteen

Early the next morning, Albyn rode out to the forest with Yowan and his sons. Yowan had been eager to describe their progress and waved his arms in elaborate gestures, but Albyn needed to actually see the wing for himself. The men had hoisted it into the branches of a tall oak to disguise it from view, and the younger and more nimble of Yowan’s lads scrambled up the tree to carefully handle the rope and lower it.

The lightweight frame was lashed together with sinews. It was larger than Albyn had expected, but beautiful in its simplicity. He walked the length of it, and noted how the sides duplicated the bone structure of a bird’s wings. Thicker branches reinforced the center, from which Egan would be suspended.

He nodded thoughtfully. “What will you use to cover it?”

Yowan exchanged an anxious glance with his sons. “We’ve been debating our choices. A good stout linen should carry a man, but we’re not satisfied with merely getting Egan aloft.”

“Neither am I,” Albyn agreed. “I’ll get whatever you need.”

Yowan raised a hand. “Leave it to us. We’re thinking we’ll stretch calfskin taut as though we were making a drum. The wind rushing up Mount Royal is as unpredictable as a woman’s heart. Using skins will add a bit of weight to the wing, but the necessary strength is what we’re after.”

Yowan continued to study his handiwork before looking up. “How is Egan faring?” he asked. “Is his side on the mend?”

Albyn could only voice his hopes. “I believe so.”

“Good. When we have the covering in place, I’ll fashion a leather harness to suspend him from the wing, but he’ll need to be agile enough to shift his weight to control it in the wind.” He gestured with surprising grace to suggest a dipping and gliding motion.

Albyn was impressed not only with Yowan’s accomplishments thus far, but also with his vision. “There will be little, if any, opportunity for practice.”

“We’re moving with all possible haste, my lads and I, but I’d not want Kieran to glimpse our wing and improve upon his own design.”

“Then how will Egan practice? He has to try the wing before the eve of Samhain. He can’t just strap on the harness and leap off Mount Royal.”

“I’m afraid he’ll have to,” Yowan’s eldest son said. “But Kieran will have no advantage. His men are copying the tapestry, and while the shape is accurate, it’s too small. He’ll plummet straight into the side of the mountain and bounce on down like a handful of pebbles.”

Albyn brushed aside that gloomy prediction. “Kieran has invited whatever disaster befalls him. Now I’ll delay your work no longer. If you encounter any unforeseen difficulty, summon me immediately.”

“Aye, that we’ll do,” Yowan replied, and he and his sons bent down beside their fanciful creation to make certain the bindings were secure.

As Albyn returned to the fortress, he worried a healthy man would have trouble handling a wing on his first flight. One with a weakened left side would be at a severe disadvantage. There was no point in sharing his apprehensions with Egan, however, and he fixed on an encouraging smile before knocking on Adelaine’s door.

When Oriana welcomed him into the room with a charming smile that lit her eyes with a bright sparkle, he knew instinctively what had caused the great improvement in her mood. He felt a momentary flash of jealousy, but promptly smothered it with gratitude that Egan felt well enough to make love to his bride.

Egan had been pacing the chamber to build his strength, but he welcomed Albyn’s interruption and sat down on the end of the bed. “What have you found?” he asked.

“Yowan does indeed know how to construct a wing, and he and his sons are well on their way to completing it. I would like for you to practice though, and it will be difficult to arrange without Kieran benefiting as greatly as you.”

Egan winked at Oriana, but he wished she had somewhere to go to allow him to converse freely with Albyn. During the day, female guests usually gathered in the great hall to embroider or to simply exchange gossip with Ula, but that would be the last place Oriana would feel at ease. He had not considered how her lack of family and friends would limit her activities and deeply regretted the oversight.

With Albyn shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, and Egan eyeing her with a preoccupied frown, Oriana quickly grasped what neither wished to say. “From what I can glimpse through the narrow windows, it appears to be a pleasant morning. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll venture out for a stroll along the bluff.”

“Aye, you should take advantage of the fine weather,” Egan urged. “Each day grows cooler.”

Albyn watched as Oriana donned her cloak, and he moved aside to allow her sufficient room to pass. She was gone before he had thought of anything worth saying, but he felt foolish for not at least wishing her an enjoyable outing.

“Hurry and find your own woman,” Egan chided. “The way you continually drool over mine is damn annoying.”

Albyn was fully aware of how poor a job he had done of hiding his desire, and he accepted the criticism with a careless shrug. “Oriana is not only lovely, she’s clever enough to give us the opportunity to plot alone. How do you really feel?”

“If I move with deliberate care, there’s little pain, but flying will demand a flexibility I’ve yet to regain.”

“You still have five days,” Albyn murmured, “but don’t test your limits until you must. Of course, when it comes to your charming bride, it’s plain you already have.”

Egan checked his laugh to avoid straining his side and produced only a hoarse chuckle. “Is it that easy to observe?”

“Aye, there’s definitely a gleam in the eye of a woman who’s been well loved.”

“And a man as well, I imagine,” Egan insisted. He drew in a shallow breath, and then pulled in another. “I’ll not relieve you of your promise though. Should I strap on the wing and sail off into the clouds, or worse, crash into the rocky sides of Mount Royal, you must spirit Oriana away while everyone is still cheering for Kieran.”

Albyn gave a grudging nod. “Kieran is the more likely to die.”

Egan stared up at his friend and wondered if he actually believed that they held the advantage. “What if Kieran suffers several broken bones and Garrick hands you the ritual dagger. Could you end his life?”

“Garrick helped raise Kieran, and he would protect him rather than demand I slit his throat. It’s you he’d want me to kill, to torture us both, but I’d sooner turn the dagger on him. I hope he knows that, but before Oriana returns, I suppose we should discuss all the possibilities, no matter how distasteful or remote.”

Egan was surprised by the dark anger that deepened Albyn’s voice when he had spoken Garrick’s name. He had not heard of one Druid stabbing another, and he had no wish to inspire such a murder when Albyn would never escape the fortress alive.

“If after the flight, I’m no more than a twitching mass of broken bones, do not hesitate to plant the dagger in my heart,” he urged forcefully. “It’s Oriana you’ve sworn to protect, and I’ll gladly buy her life with my blood.”

Albyn understood precisely what he might have to do, but Egan’s death would be far too high a price to pay for the privilege of serving as Oriana’s escort. He had to force a reply over the painful knot in his throat. “I want you to win this ridiculous challenge and live to be a very old man, but should there be a need, I’ll gladly guard Oriana’s life with my own.”

Convinced that he would, Egan let the matter rest. “Tomorrow I hope to be well enough to ride, and we’ll take the falcons out to hunt.”

“You want to hunt? You can’t miss the taste of pheasant that greatly.”

After shifting his weight forward on the balls of his feet, Egan rose, and with a careful stretch reached his full height. “You’ll have to agree it’s delicious meat, but what I really mean to do is watch my birds in flight. It sounds as though Yowan’s wing will get me in the air, but the man who soars the longest will be the victor.”

“He must also survive the trip back to earth,” Albyn interjected.

“Coming down will be the easy part. But I mean to learn how a hawk stays in the sky for as long as he pleases. Oriana insists the birds should be studied, and I believe her.”

He began to pace again. Rather than favor his left side, he took carefully measured steps of equal length. “You saw the wing. What do you think of it?”

“It was beautiful. I just wish there were a way for you to practice.”

“We’ll look for a hill,” Egan suggested. “Or perhaps I could gain sufficient speed from the back of a horse to be lifted into the air.”

Aghast at that preposterous thought, Albyn pointed toward the bed. “Go back to sleep,” he ordered. “Perhaps when you awaken your mind will be clear.”

“My head is already clearer than yours will ever be. Now leave me be,” Egan responded without breaking his stride.

Albyn hesitated as he weighed what he wished to say. “There’s something else. I have listened as I promised, but if there was a plot to kill your father, I’ve not overheard so much as a whisper of it. I did speak with Quill, however, in hopes he might have observed something that would help us.”

Grasping that hope, Egan turned slowly. “Had he?”

“No, but he mentioned your father had asked him to compose a tribute for your mother. Apparently her memory remained dear to him, and he’d ask Quill to sing her song whenever they were alone together.”

Egan paused to peer out the window at the clear blue sky and wished his future were equally untroubled. “It was just as I suspected then,” he murmured. “He treated Ula well and frequently shared her bed, but he continued to love my mother.” As he would cherish Oriana to the end of his days.

“Let’s watch Ula,” Albyn proposed. “She must believe she’s escaped suspicion in your father’s death, and perhaps she’ll grow careless and inadvertently reveal her guilt.”

“I’d rather watch a spider weave its web,” Egan replied darkly.

Albyn had not meant to depress Egan’s mood and hastened to distract him. “Come dine with us in the great hall tonight if you’re able. It will build confidence in your cause if the others see you.”

“Aye, I know the mere appearance of weakness will harm me as greatly as another knife wound. I’ll be there tonight rather than feed the rumor that I’m too weak to appear. I just can’t promise I’ll be able to swallow what I’m served.”

“As long as you are there, it will be enough,” Albyn replied.

After Albyn had gone, Egan continued to pace. He had spent too much time in bed the last two days to crave more sleep. Sleep was for old men, not a young one bent on outwitting his brother.

The flight would be difficult at best and at worst fatal, but he could not escape the horrible suspicion that there would be yet another test before he was allowed to reign in peace. He had once been the most confident of men, but perhaps he had merely been stupid not to have anticipated how much could go awry.

Oriana walked along the bluff thinking she had always been occupied with the business of living, but now her days stretched out before her without a single chore to do. Not that caring for Egan did not demand her full attention, but it did not require the same effort as walking from dawn to dusk, or foraging for grain in a field a farmer and his kin had picked clean.

The Dál Cais had food aplenty and handsomely carved chests overflowing with finely tailored garments and a treasure in gold and jewels. But she stayed only for the joy of being with Egan. He was the love of her life, and she would cease to exist should she lose him.

As she returned to the bailey, her attention was immediately drawn to a cloud white mare tied outside the stable. A wiry red-haired lad was combing out her mane with long, furious strokes, and while agitated, the horse was tethered on too short a rope to escape his brutish attentions.

“She needs a lighter hand,” Oriana called out as she approached him.

Startled by the rebuke, the boy lost his grip on the comb. He made a hurried grab but succeeded only in flipping it into the air where it tumbled out of reach before landing in the dirt. He then got down on his knees to retrieve it, but pulled away rather than risk being trampled under the mare’s dancing hooves.

He sent Oriana a frightened glance, and when she continued to walk toward him, he ran for the forge, where the smith was working at his anvil with a lively clanging beat.

Oriana had not meant to terrify the stable boy, but neither could she have kept quiet and allowed him to abuse the horse. She ran her hand over the mare’s smooth white rump and spoke to her softly. “You’re such a pretty thing and shouldn’t be treated as though you were a shaggy old sheepdog who had muddied his coat.”

The mare tossed her head in apparent agreement and, growing calm, ceased pulling on her tether, which allowed Oriana to scoop up the comb. She ran it carefully through the mare’s mane and worked out the snarls without causing the horse any further distress. Delighted to have some useful work, she hummed happily to herself and failed to notice Albyn’s arrival until he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he leaned down to whisper. “You ought not to be working in the stable.”

“I’m not actually inside the stable now, am I?” Oriana replied. “Nor am I working. The stable boy was mistreating this mare, and clearly she’s someone’s precious pet. As long as she looks her best, I doubt her owner will care who combed her mane and tail.”

Afraid she had been observed, Albyn glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to discover the daily routine of the fortress had continued uninterrupted all around them. Two girls were drawing water at the well, another carried a basket toward the vegetable and herb garden. There were men stacking firewood, while others unloaded a wagon filled with sacks of grain. He heard the squeal of a pig and the crowing of a rooster.

Several men exchanged bawdy boasts as they rode out to hunt. There were so many guests, many horses had been penned outside the fortress walls. But this particular mare had been singled out for a special purpose.

Oriana was obviously enjoying herself, but when her attentions were completely misplaced, he could not withhold the truth. “This mare is not a pet,” he explained. “When Egan becomes king, there will be a ceremonial marriage between him and the goddess of the land. He’ll slay this white mare, and her flesh will be cooked and eaten. Some kings are rumored to have mated with the white mare before sacrificing her, and to have bathed in the broth boiled from her meat, but I doubt Egan will carry his ceremony to those extremes.”

Albyn’s description of the mare’s intended fate sickened Oriana clear through, and she let the comb slip from her fingers. Surely it had been a Druid who had devised such a disgusting ceremony rather than a king.

Albyn caught the comb in midair and slipped it into the mare’s mane, where it stuck like a woman’s comb. “I will walk you to your chamber,” he announced. Should she object, he intended to carry her.

Oriana took a step toward the keep, but she was too confused to walk quietly. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she complained in a frantic whisper. “If the mare is a symbol of the goddess, then sacrificing her and eating her flesh should outrage rather than please her.”

Albyn took a firm grip on her upper arm. “If you care nothing for your own life, then for Egan’s sake, do not question the Druid’s rituals. Most especially not to a Druid,” he emphasized.

“I believed the Druids could at least think, but clearly you have no logical response to even the most obvious question.”

“What makes you so knowledgeable to the gods’ desires? Have you ever met one?”

Oriana regarded him with an enigmatic smile. “Aye, once. But you should be contemplating your own life, not those of the gods.”

“I do little else,” he confessed. “But you must tell me which god you saw and where.”

“This is not the time,” Oriana responded, and moving ahead of him, she led the way to Adelaine’s chamber.

Albyn hoped that Egan would be asleep, but he was still pacing with a determined stride. “I must beg for another moment,” Albyn said as he followed Oriana through the door.

Egan, however, wanted only to lose himself in his affectionate bride, and he pulled her close to his side. “You may always have a moment, but today, no more.”

The chamber held a faint odor of lavender Albyn hadn’t noticed on his previous visits, and when he glanced around, he was almost surprised not to find Adelaine present. It was an uncomfortable sensation he fought to shake.

He briefly recounted Oriana’s objection to sacrificing a pretty mare and raised his hand to forestall Egan’s defense. “It is an ancient ceremony, and while it may actually make as little sense as Oriana claims, it will continue.”

Egan’s first thought was of his father, who had possessed the insight to cut to the heart of any dispute. He tried to imagine what Cadell would say in this case and, nearly overcome with emotion, he had to clear his throat before he spoke.

“I’ll make Oriana a present of the mare she saw. You’ll find another and keep her hidden so that my dear bride does not take a fancy to her as well.”

Greatly disappointed, Albyn backed away. “Don’t do this, Egan. Once you cast aside tradition to please your wife, there will be no end to it, and you’ll put your own life at risk.”

Egan laughed before he remembered his side, and he winced in pain. “How could you have forgotten that my life is already at risk? If I wish to give my wife twenty white mares, I’ll do so. Now go and find a second mare as I asked, and we’ll see you in the great hall tonight, and not before.”

Clearly offended, Albyn reached for the door. From the corner of his eye, he caught a shimmering light, but there was no reflection from the sun nor sea crossing this chamber. He paused to discover its source, but at its center stood Oriana, who glowed with more than radiant beauty. Humbled that he may have seen a goddess himself, he went in search of another white mare that he prayed Egan would live long enough to sacrifice.

Oriana waited for the door to swing closed behind Albyn. “Forgive me,” she begged. “I’ve been alone too long, and when I had no one with whom to share my thoughts, it mattered little what they were. From now on, I’ll be known as Oriana the Silent.”

Egan was elated that she had learned enough from him to regret being so outspoken, but there was no reason for him to keep his opinions to himself. “The next few days will be difficult. We have each other, but Albyn is alone. Please try not to cause him more anguish. He’s torn between the Druids’ beliefs and his own desires, but he can’t move toward either when I’m in such dire need of him.”

Egan coaxed Oriana down upon the bed and laced his fingers in hers. “I realize that I’m your only friend here, which is most unfortunate. I hope you’ll soon make others, but you must come to me with your questions and thoughts, not Albyn.”

Oriana nodded unhappily. “I might as well have been raised in the Otherworld, for I know less about your ways than the most ignorant milkmaid.”

“No,” Egan argued persuasively. “You know everything, and though I’d never stopped to consider it, you’re right about the mare. I will still have to sacrifice one, however, because it’s what’s expected of me.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “The king and his warriors defend our people, the Druids safeguard our religion, the bards compose poetry and preserve our history. Craftsmen create a wealth of useful implements, while the common folk raise our livestock and food. We’ve prospered under that orderly system, and I’ll not disrupt it.”

Oriana studied their hands. His were strong and capable, deeply tanned, and hers were delicate and fair. She had never been idle, but neither had she labored in the fields. “Aye, everyone has a place, and a worthwhile job to do, except for a wanderer who tells fortunes to survive.”

Egan dropped her hand to embrace her. He opened his mouth to explain that she had the same task as every other noblewoman—to care for her husband and children—but he caught himself before inviting another ghostly curse as a fool. Oriana was more than a mere wife and prospective mother, and he should not have to remind himself of it.

He was again overtaken with the eerie sensation that something dreadful lurked just out of sight. “I need you desperately,” he breathed against her curls.

Oriana raised her hands to cover his. She was uncertain if he was speaking only of desire or of something deeper, but true to her vow, she spoke with nothing but an adoring kiss.

Chapter Twenty

The sun hid behind smoke-edged clouds, and the scent of rain hung heavy in the air, but undeterred by the threatening weather, Oriana rode the white mare while Egan sat proudly astride Raven. Albyn trailed behind them leading the cadge boy with the falcons. Half a dozen fortress guards followed with the hounds, but no others had been invited along this morning.

As they approached the meadow where they had held their earlier hunt, the three gyrfalcons were hunched down into their feathers, but the peregrine leaned into the slight wind and appeared eager to fly. The hounds strained at their leashes, causing one guard to trip and nearly fall—much to his friends’ snorting delight.

Oriana feared Egan might injure his side while plucking her from the snowy mare’s back, so she promptly swung her leg over the saddle and slid to the ground on her own. The mare was not nearly as large as Brute, but she was nonetheless proud of herself for landing solidly on her feet rather than sprawled in the grass. Hoping the men would believe her simply eager to hunt, she handed her reins to one of the guards, lifted her hem, and hastened to Egan’s side.

“Do you need some assistance,” she whispered. She ran her gloved hand down Raven’s neck, which he had curved to keep her new mare in view.

“I often hunt from Raven’s back,” he replied as he slipped on the leather gauntlet. “I’ll do so today.”

“As you wish,” Oriana responded, but she took care to move out of his way. She felt Albyn’s disquieting presence move up behind her. He did not speak, and when she glanced toward him, his frown failed to lift.

“Is it merely the poor weather, or is something else amiss?” she asked.

Albyn watched the cadge boy hand a gyrfalcon up to Egan. Before Egan caught her leather jesses, the bird shook herself in a hopping dance along his thickly padded glove. Egan spoke softly to settle her.

In a hushed whisper, Albyn replied, “I can’t help but fear that Egan might have survived Kieran’s attack, but now be in danger of succumbing to a chill.”

“The day is not a fair one, but none of us is likely to fall ill,” Oriana argued.

Albyn cocked his head to the side and observed her with the same keen interest he had just shown the hawk. “Have you ever been ill, my lady?”

“No, I’ve been blessed with excellent health. Now let’s cease to worry and watch the hunt.”

The hounds were already bounding through the meadow, and off to the side, a plump pheasant beat her wings in a frantic bid to escape them. A hound leaped after her but caught only a fleeting taste of her long tail feathers.

Egan waited to make certain the pheasant would actually make it into the air before he removed his falcon’s hood and cast her aloft. The bird easily climbed above the pheasant and continued to soar higher with each winding circle.

Oriana held her breath as she waited for the impressive wild falcon to appear, but that morning the gyrfalcon flew alone. High above them, she completed one last ring in the sky and then tucked her wings in close, dove for the pheasant, and made the kill.

Oriana had been so sure they would make a significant discovery, but while she marveled at the falcon’s prowess, she did not see how Egan could imitate it with even a finely crafted wing. She remained at his side while Albyn pulled on a gauntlet to reward and retrieve the magnificent bird.

“Did you see something? What I noticed was the strength in the gyrfalcon’s legs and feet as she overtook the pheasant, but how will that help you?” she asked, clearly perplexed.

Egan held Raven’s reins in a relaxed grasp and could not help but wish he still possessed the strength to reach down and pull Oriana up across his lap. Before answering her question, he promised himself he would do so again, and soon.

“We have the whole morning to hunt,” he responded. “Let’s enjoy ourselves, and we’ll see whatever we must.”

Oriana appreciated his confidence, but she was still worried they might miss a critical detail. Her slippers were soaked from the wet grass, and she thought Egan wise for remaining astride Raven. Hoping she would have a better view on her new mare, she retraced her steps, but it was Albyn rather than the guard holding the reins, and he laced his hands to provide a helpful step.

She thanked him, then urged the mare forward. Raven whinnied a greeting, but she kept her horse at a safe distance to avoid startling the falcons. Egan had the peregrine this time, and she concentrated upon viewing each of the bird’s actions to better understand the sequence of flight.

Glistening beads of moisture clung to her cloak. The droplets swelled, broke into rivulets, and coursed down her back to run off toward the ground. She ignored the dampness seeping into her shoulders and waited without complaint as Egan sent his falcons aloft.

Did a falcon ever falter? Or did their spirits lift them as forcefully as the wind? She hoped Egan was able to observe more than she, because he needed to master the secrets, which remained a complete mystery to her.

His expression was thoughtful and his mouth relaxed, as though he were about to kiss her. But his gaze was as sharply vigilant as his winged predators. He was also a creature of astonishing grace and speed, but how was he to learn their innate ability to soar through the sky with the ease he strode the land?

Albyn also kept a close eye on Egan. They had hunted with falcons from the time they had been old enough to bear the weight of a peregrine upon their wrists. There was nothing tentative about a hawk, and Albyn had always been entranced by the speed of their attack. They might trace courtly circles against the clouds as they searched for prey, but once it was sighted, they flew with the speed of a well-aimed arrow.

He thought them magnificent in their fierce simplicity, but he studied them now with new eyes. He drank them in and envied their clear sense of purpose. But even with Yowan’s magnificent wing, he had little faith in Egan to even come close to their effortless flight.

He rubbed his arms to ward off the deepening chill and noted how badly the guards were shivering. “We ought to be on our way,” he called to Egan. “As it is, we’ll not beat the rain back to the fortress.”

Egan angled Raven toward Oriana. “Are you cold?”

“Very, but it matters little if you’ve still more to learn.”

“I swear every day I discover I know less than I had believed, but we needn’t tarry any longer.”

Egan sent the guards back to the fortress with the cadge boy, along with clear instructions to share the fine pheasants they had taken with the rest of the guards. The men looked forward to a delicious meal and quickly left the meadow, while the dogs remained eager to hunt and complained in mournful yaps as they were tugged away.

Albyn came forward to lead their way to Yowan, but urged his mount across the path. “First, tell us what you’ve gained, if anything.”

Egan shrugged and rubbed his neck. “We may have already known a great deal, but simply not recognized it. How do we always carry the falcons?”

Assuming the question was for Oriana’s benefit, Albyn supplied the correct answer. “The birds have to face into the wind. That’s the only way they’ll deign to sit calmly.”

“Aye, and while I’d not noted it before today, it’s the direction in which they fly. They aren’t blown into the sky by a restless wind. The air rushes against them and lifts them high. I began to wonder if the air might not have currents as strong as those in the sea. Even if we can’t see them, they might very well be there.”

Albyn caught Oriana’s eye before he spoke. “What will you do, leave Mount Royal with a leap into the wind?”

“It seems the wisest course, but I also noted how slowly the falcons change direction. They can’t make sharp turns, but they lean in the direction they wish to go and glide right into it. I may not be able to do it all that well, but if I can do it at all, the air will keep me aloft.

“You also noticed something important, Oriana.” Egan raised his hand slowly and bent his wrist. “When a hawk wishes to slow her speed, she pulls back and thrusts out her legs. That’s the way to land safely, not by diving toward the earth, but by pushing back against the rushing air. It was all there, just as you said it would be. Now, let’s visit Yowan and his sons before the rain comes and we are all washed away.”

While Egan certainly was not gloating, he did appear convinced that he had made some valuable discoveries. Oriana tried to smile, but her lips trembled slightly, and she hurriedly guided her mare into place behind Albyn’s dappled gray. She wrapped her cloak more tightly over her bosom and hoped they would not have a lengthy ride since she was already cold and tired.

Egan felt no better, but the ride was not long, and he greeted Yowan with an easy smile. A fallen limb would provide a handy step back into the saddle, and while he had to take care, he did risk dismounting here. He walked around the wing and tried to imagine it carrying him through the air. His cousins were lashing the last bit of calfskin to the ends of the frame, while Yowan had been working on the harness.

“Is it heavy?” Egan asked.

“Nay.” Yowan reached down to lift the wing with one hand. “We’ll carry it up Mount Royal for you, but you’ll scarcely feel its weight when you’re in the air.”

“I’m grateful for your knowledge and your splendid work,” Egan responded. “I’ll reward you all after the flight.”

Oriana had remained on her mare, but she noted the knowing glance passing between Egan’s cousins and wondered if they had expected to be paid first. “If this wing doesn’t work as it should, Egan won’t be alive to reward you, nor should you expect it,” she emphasized.

Unaware of what had prompted Oriana’s outburst, Egan could only shake his head. “Aye, my lady, they already understand that.”

Aghast at her doubts, Yowan hastened to her side. “You need have no fears. Our wing will work as perfectly as a falcon’s do. You’ll see.” He looked toward his sons and Egan for support, and received encouraging nods.

Albyn tested the weight of the wing himself and was satisfied it was both light and strong. “We’re all cold and wet. Let’s return to the fortress.”

Yowan scanned the darkening sky. “The wing will be safe in the tree, and I’ll bring the harness back with me. You go first, and we’ll follow.”

Thinking that a fine idea, Egan led Raven alongside the fallen limb and eased himself back into the saddle. He winked at Oriana to convey a silent promise that he would warm her quite thoroughly once they reached home.

Kieran had overseen the construction of his wing, but now that the heavy linen had been securely stitched to the frame, he was anxious to give it a try. They had been working near the stable where the wing had been stored at night, but before the wing could be carried through the fortress gate, huge raindrops began to splatter the ground.

Kieran rested his hands on his hips and swore a string of bitter oaths. “Birds are too smart to fly in the rain, so I’ll not risk it, but the weather has to clear before the eve of Samhain.”

His companions shrugged and echoed that hope, but only one dared voice his opinion. “You need make only one flight, my lord, and with the rain, Egan will have no practice either.”

“Aye, that’s true enough, but I’d still like to haul the wing around the back of Mount Royal where we’d not be observed and fly it.”

The man who had fashioned the harness trailed a long leather thong through his fingers. “It would be easier to build a new wing than repair this one if it’s damaged. I say we not take that risk.”

Kieran listened to the low murmur of approval for that opinion, but he still felt uneasy. “It’s my own safety that concerns me, not a heap of wood and linen. If the weather clears, I’ll try it.”

He walked away rather than argue, but his enthusiasm for flight was beginning to fade. Had he not had Fiona to ease his mind as well as his body, his mood would have been very dark indeed. As he went to find her now, he convinced himself that he was the stronger and better man. By Samhain, he would be king.

Egan shoved open the door to his chamber and ushered Oriana inside. A fire was already glowing brightly on the hearth, and he peeled away her damp cloak and urged her toward it. As soon as he had flung his own cloak aside, he stepped up behind her and wrapped her in an enthusiastic hug.

“Now that you’ve seen my wing, what do you think of your plan?” he asked.

Oriana crossed her arms over his. “We took advantage of Kieran’s reckless streak, but I would have gone to any extreme to save your life.”

“Was it extreme to believe that I could actually fly?” Egan dipped his head to nuzzle her damp curls, and then licked the dip behind her ear.

“Nay, for you appear to rejoice in extremes.” Oriana loved his playful attentions, but remained pensive. “Maybe it will rain for months, and you’ll not have to risk a flight until spring.”

“Samhain is usually dry.” Egan doubted that she would understand, but he was exhilarated by the chance to fly.

“Kieran will drop like a stone,” he predicted convincingly, “and with a remarkably smooth flight, I’ll win the challenge two contests to his one. Though no king’s reign is without conflict of one sort or another, we’ll face each one together and prosper as we were meant to.”

“I want to believe that,” Oriana replied wistfully.

Egan turned her in his arms and kissed her so deeply, she was left clinging to his tunic. “Do you believe this?” he murmured before kissing her again.

Despite her lingering apprehension, Oriana welcomed Egan’s affectionate kisses with a hunger that swiftly inspired him to take her to bed. She slipped out of her gown without coaxing and moved to kneel astride him and take him with slow, shallow dips.

He chuckled at her game and allowed her to play it until he needed more than sweet teasing. He strengthened his hold on her waist then, and pulled her down hard to bury himself deep. He loved the way desire clouded her gaze before she closed her eyes in surrender.

Giving himself up to their shared passion, he was again amazed that though his torn side had forced them to slow their lovemaking, the more leisurely pace had also greatly heightened their pleasure. He thought he would be more likely to die in Oriana’s arms than in a leap from Mount Royal, but when she satisfied him so completely, such an untimely death struck him as positively noble.

He rested on the verge of sleep and stroked Oriana’s curls with fond caresses. “Had Albyn not been with us, I’d have made love to you in the forest,” he whispered.

Oriana lay coiled around him, too content to move. “What a delicious thought; but now we are seldom alone.”

“Aye, but we could sneak away before dawn and make the depths of the forest our real home.”

Delighted by the prospect, Oriana raised up slightly. “You’d do that for me?”

A slow smile danced across Egan’s lips. “For you, of course. But for myself as well.”

“For us, then,” Oriana murmured through a lengthy yawn.

Egan rather liked the phrase. “For us,” he repeated sleepily, and with nothing left unsaid, they fell asleep locked in each other’s arms.

Ula clenched her fists in furious knots and shook them at Garrick. “The bitch took the white mare! Egan had already given her a sweet-tempered dapple gray. What need has any woman for two such fine horses? Clearly she took the white mare to insult every last member of the Dál Cais!”

“That is one interpretation,” Garrick admitted, “or perhaps she fears that Kieran will become king, and she took the mare to curse him.”

While confounded by that suggestion, Ula quickly discounted it. “That is the same deliberate insult, and she must be severely punished.”

“I would enjoy nothing more, but rather than vent our temper on her over a mare, which Albyn has already replaced, we must use the incident to prove her unfit to be queen. Of course, when Egan may not live out the week, we may not need to speak out against Oriana.”

“Nay, I say you denounce the bitch at your every opportunity. Let her know she’s despised,” Ula hissed.

Garrick responded with an indulgent smile. “She can’t possibly feel welcome here. Now put her out of your mind and contemplate instead the celebration when Kieran becomes king. Won’t you need a new gown?”

“I have more than I can wear.” Ula ran her fingers through her flowing hair and shook it out to the tips. “I suppose I really should have something new though.”

“Aye, and exquisite,” Garrick encouraged, and he excused himself to allow her to consult with her seamstresses.

It rained steadily until the eve of Samhain, and even on that morning, the sun struggled to burn through a thick layer of ominous clouds. Eager for the contest to begin, Egan pushed himself to climb the stairs and stood for a while on the wall walk to study not the overcast skies, but the direction of the wind.

Oriana pressed close and clutched his arm. “Will this be a good day to fly?”

“It’s as good as any we’re likely to have. Yowan and his sons should already have my wing in place on Mount Royal, but I want to leave now and rob Kieran of an opportunity to jeer at me for moving slowly.”

The sea was a calm gray-green that morning, as though it had yet to shake off the night. In Oriana’s opinion, it was a deceptively tranquil scene for a dangerous challenge.

“Wouldn’t it be wise to let Kieran believe you’ve barely the strength to stand, let alone climb?” she asked.

Egan understood the ploy, but he foresaw a difficulty she had not recognized. “If it were only the two of us on the mountain, I’d hobble up leaning on a staff; but there’s sure to be an enormous crowd gathered to watch, and I’d not want anyone to mistakenly believe I’m too weak to become king. A king must be healthy and whole, or he’s swiftly replaced.”

Oriana reached up to caress his cheek. “I’d prefer a frail man blessed with wisdom to a brawny fool.”

Egan could laugh now without suffering painful consequences, and he relished the hearty sound echoing off the surrounding stone walls. “So would I, but I can handle only one challenge today, and I’ll not incite an argument over a longstanding tradition.”

He took her hand to lead her down the stairs, and they found Albyn waiting in the corridor outside his chamber. Since the hunt, they had seen him only for the evening meals in the great hall. To impress that noisy crowd, Egan had ignored the pain in his side to stand or sit in a confident pose. He had spoken at length with his kin, but Albyn had remained preoccupied and added little to those discussions.

“Are you ready?” Egan asked.

“Aye, but I’m not the one who’ll have to climb and fly. The more important question concerns your health.”

“My side won’t hamper me today. After I win the challenge, would you care to be the second to try my wing?”

Albyn was relieved Egan felt well enough to joke with him, but the fear in Oriana’s eyes tore at his heart. “There’ll be no time today.”

“Another day, then?” Egan persisted.

Albyn had never envied birds. “I’ll think on it,” he promised.

Egan rested his hands on Oriana’s shoulders and placed a light kiss on her forehead. They had spent so much time making love in the last few days that he felt confident he had sired an heir, but he did not want to frighten her with instructions on how he should be raised, nor did he wish to bid her an elaborate farewell.

“I’ll have to ride around the fortress to reach the only place where Mount Royal can be climbed. I want you to watch the flights from the bailey, or the wall walk might provide the better view.”

Oriana grasped his wrists. “Nay, I want to come with you as far as the trail, and surely I’ll have a better view from the bottom of the mountain than here in the fortress.”

“I’ll not risk landing on you, dear lady, so do not argue with me. Stay here with Albyn and be ready to celebrate upon my return.”

Oriana had known this moment was coming, but not how terribly difficult it would be to hide her fears. She had every confidence in Egan, but terror still knotted her chest. She had to reach deep to find the courage to match his daring.

“The wild falcon may return. Watch for him,” she urged. She raised up on her toes to kiss him, then dropped her hands to let him go.

As Egan backed away, he called to Albyn. “You know what to do.”

“Aye. Now go and make a great fool of Kieran. We’re eager to see him bounce down the side of Mount Royal.”

“So am I,” Egan assured them, and gathering his resolve, he walked away while he still could.

Oriana leaned back against the wall and bit her lip to check the tears she absolutely refused to shed. She closed her eyes briefly to recall Egan’s wicked grin, and when she looked up, she was ready for whatever the day might bring.

“I don’t trust someone not to throw me off the wall walk,” she said. “Do you want to watch from the bailey, or outside the fortress gate?”

Albyn had given the matter a great deal of thought, and their horses were already saddled. “We’re not certain where Egan might come to earth, so to spare us a long walk to greet him, let’s ride.”

Oriana understood what he was planning, but not why he would couch the truth in such optimistic terms. “And keep right on riding if we must?” she prompted.

Albyn doubted that she could be more deeply depressed than he, but he was touched by the sadness in her eyes. “I’ve never known Egan to fail, but should the need arise, I’ll keep my promise, and we’ll sleep in the forest tonight. What do you want to bring with you?”

Oriana was dressed in one of Adelaine’s amethyst gowns, a matching tunic, and a deep green cloak. She wore her mother’s gold bracelet and the wooden beads Cadell had carved for Adelaine. She did not even want to consider taking anything more.

“I’ve a tent stored in the stable, and a travel bag, but I’ll not gather them up for fear it might doom Egan. It shouldn’t hurt to bring my Stones of Tomorrow though.”

She quickly fetched the leather pouch, and then followed Albyn down the winding stairs. It was still early, but an excited crowd had already begun to gather in the bailey and spill out the gate. She raised her hood and hurried to the stable, where Albyn’s usual dapple gray mount and her white mare were waiting.

Oriana felt sick to her stomach, and slightly dizzy, but mounted the mare and turned her toward the gate without complaining. She now recognized Egan’s relatives, but not trusting herself to attach the correct names, responded to greetings with a sweet smile and polite nod.

Most people were on foot, although a few had also chosen to ride. Albyn led the way through the gates, then pulled them wide to avoid the swelling crowd. He raised a hand to test the wind and gazed up to watch the slow movement of the clouds. He then gestured for Oriana to follow him off the trail.

“The wind should carry Egan in this direction,” he explained. When he was satisfied they were far enough away from the others, he drew his mount to a halt and wrapped the ends of his reins around his hand.

Oriana brought her mare along beside him. “Do you believe the mountain is cursed?” she asked.

“I fear our whole damn world is cursed, but I’ve grown pessimistic of late.”

Oriana found the craggy face of the mountain more appealing than his narrowed gaze. “You’ll soon change your mind,” she mused absently. “Do you see Egan, or Yowan with the wing?”

Wanting desperately to believe in her predictions, Albyn stared at her, but though he was swiftly distracted by her beauty, he dared not even hope his life might one day improve. He nudged his mount closer to her mare and pointed to the base of the mountain.

“The cluster of oaks marks the beginning of the trail, but it winds up the mountain like a jagged scar, and Egan may be difficult to sight. It’s an ancient path, but there’s no way to attack the fortress from the mountain, nor any way to reach the summit. Egan and Kieran must leap from a rocky outcropping below the crest.”

At that moment, sunlight broke through the clouds, and cheers erupted from those who had left the fortress. Oriana slid her hood back onto her shoulders and hoped the sunlight was a good omen. She heard someone shout Egan’s name and again scanned the trail to find a dark-haired man who was impossible to recognize from that distance.

“Is that Egan?” she asked.

“He’s moving rather slowly, so I believe it might be. Look, here’s Kieran just leaving the fortress now.”

Kieran was also on horseback and laughing as though he were bound for a hunt. A swarm of young men in equally high spirits followed carrying his wing. Garrick, Ula, Madi, and Skell rode by on magnificently groomed mounts trailing bright ribbons, but neither the men nor women sent a single glance toward Oriana and Albyn.

“Why is Egan so worried for my safety?” Oriana whispered. “They don’t even see me.”

“You mustn’t be insulted when it works to our advantage. Because Egan accepted Kieran’s challenge, he’ll have to go first. Rather than rely on three Druids to judge the winner, everyone viewing this spectacle will count off the time spent in the air.”

“Doesn’t distance matter?”

“We discussed it,” Albyn added, “but if either man goes floating off into the clouds, men on horseback will have to pursue him. That shouldn’t happen though. They’re expected to remain within sight here in the valley.”

Oriana was so anxious for the ridiculous contest to be over, she could scarcely breathe. She reached out her hand and Albyn took it in a warm grasp. “I want to believe that we did all we could,” she stressed.

Albyn drew in a ragged breath and let it out slowly. “We gave Egan six days he’d not have had, and it was enough.”

Puzzled, Oriana withdrew her hand. “Enough for what?”

Albyn wished he could smile, but there was no joy in his heart to produce such a pleasant expression. “Enough time to bid you a loving farewell.”

Had he struck her, she could not have been more deeply hurt. “You’re wrong,” she swore. “Egan expects to fly, not die for the amusement of this crowd out for a bit of sport.”

She refused to waste another instant in Albyn’s distressing company and rode off at an angle toward the mountain where she would have an excellent view, but no one to speak her deepest fears aloud.

Chapter Twenty-one

Egan had concentrated on mastering the wing and had failed to anticipate how incredibly taxing it would be to climb Mount Royal. Each time he paused to catch his breath, he became even more grateful that he had set out before Kieran. His side throbbed with a dull ache, but he had not realized how much blood he had lost, or that he would tire so easily.

Yowan greeted him as he rounded the last twisting curve. “Ah, there you are, lad. Come look. We’ve added a piece underneath to frame your harness. It will make guiding the wing much easier.”

Still short of breath, Egan leaned over to rest his hands on his knees. His cousins bore sufficient scrapes and bruises for him to instantly understand why such a modification had been deemed necessary. “Does it work?” he asked.

The young men broke into wide grins. “You’ll float like a leaf in the wind,” the elder promised.

Egan straightened and gazed out over the valley where spectators were swarming like bees. The most distant was a red-haired woman astride a white horse, and with an instant flash of temper, he recognized Oriana.

He had told her to remain at the fortress, but she had disregarded his wishes. That she was by herself rather than with Albyn infuriated him even more until he located his friend mounted nearby.

The pair were off by themselves rather than with his kinsmen, and it hurt that his lovely bride was so alone. Then it occurred to him that Albyn had positioned them for an immediate escape should his flight not succeed as they hoped. He refused to accept such cautious behavior might actually be necessary.

Yowan leaned out over the ledge to observe Kieran’s progress up the mountain. “Better bid your brother a last farewell,” he advised with a low chuckle. “That wing’s too small to carry a man of his size.”

Egan wished he possessed even half of Yowan’s confidence. He was accustomed to subduing his fears by tightening his grip on his sword, and hated being without a weapon now. He raised his arm to wave at Oriana, but feared she was too far away to see him clearly.

Hoping to make her proud, he began to question his cousins. “Tell me everything you can. Even the smallest detail may prove to be the most valuable.”

“Whenever there was a short break in the rain, we ran with the wing,” one explained. “Even running into the wind, it lifts a man off his feet,” added the other.

Buoyed by their enthusiasm, Egan nodded and encouraged them to continue, but he could not help but believe there might be a vast difference between hopping along the ground and leaping from Mount Royal.

Praying for help from the gods, he looked up, and immediately spotted a magnificent hawk flying in ever-widening circles. Swiftly convinced it was the same giant bird he had seen with Oriana, he did not care whether it was Lugh cloaked in feathers, since with every slow turn the hawk revealed how a daring man might also float upon an invisible river of air.

By the time Kieran and his companions reached the ledge, Egan was eager to fly. He noted his half brother’s incredulous glance at the larger proportions of his wing and stepped forward to meet him.

“It’s not too late to concede the challenge to me,” Egan invited.

Kieran had been supremely confident he would win, but Egan’s wing was easily half again as large as his own. Egan had scarcely been able to stand when he had accepted this challenge, and Kieran was deeply disappointed to find him looking so relaxed and fit.

Kieran hid his dismay behind a mocking grin. “Why should I concede when you’ll be the first to fly?”

Egan spread his hands wide. “I fear I’ve been a poor brother, and I’d hope to make up for it now by sparing you a painful and bloody humiliation.”

Kieran laughed easily at that colorful insult. “Go on, leap off the mountain, and we’ll see who’s humiliated.”

Egan nodded slightly. “I’m eager to go, but don’t forget that I offered you a chance to save yourself.”

“I’m not the one in dire need of saving. Now go, or must we hurl you off the ledge?”

Egan glanced up at the hawk sailing overhead. He wanted to believe the bird had come to guide him, and he dared not keep him waiting. He walked to his wing, and while his cousins lifted and held it in place, his uncle fastened him into the harness.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me,” he said. “Now, you had better move out of the way. I don’t want to knock anyone over the edge when I jump.”

“Aye, we’ll start down the mountain right now and meet you in the valley,” Yowan promised, and he and his sons hurried along the path past Kieran and his friends.

“Last chance,” Egan called to Kieran, but his brother’s menacing scowl made it plain he would not withdraw. Egan again sighted the hawk and adjusted his position to face directly into the wind. This was either going to be the most extraordinary adventure of his life or a glorious death, but he was ready for either. He leaped from the ledge with a graceful dive.

Oriana had also drawn courage from the hawk’s presence, but she still had not been prepared to watch Egan fly. She stifled a scream as he left the ledge and stared wide-eyed as he angled his wing and fell not straight down the mountainside, but away from the rocky slope into a gentle glide that carried him out over the valley.

He leaned into the wind to mimic the hawk’s slow, circular path and soared above the crowd as though he were suspended from the clouds by silken threads.

While intricately woven for beauty, the Dál Cais’ tapestries had failed to capture the mystical grandeur of flight, and few in the awed crowd remembered to mark the time. Those who did struck an easy rhythm but their numbers were lost beneath a chorus of ecstatic shouts. When Egan floated safely back to earth and landed smoothly on his feet, the crowd rushed forward but Oriana reached him first.

Egan slid out of his harness as she jumped from her mare’s back. He ran to lift her off her feet and spun her around. “Did you see your hawk?” he asked between hungry kisses.

“Aye, but you’re the hawk now,” she exclaimed.

Thinking one of them should have his wits about him, Albyn rode in a wide circle around the loving pair to prevent the enthusiastic crowd from crushing them or the finely crafted wing. “What about Kieran?” he shouted. “Can he match such a superb flight?”

No cheering came from the ledge, but rather a hushed stillness broken only by a restless man kicking pebbles off the path. Most of the men were related to Kieran. Their own fortunes were closely tied to his, and they had just seen his chance to become king blown away in the wind.

Kieran grew increasingly angry as he watched the crowd swirl around Egan as though the coronation celebration had already begun. He had hoped his brother would crash on the rocks, or failing that calamity, produce no more than an awkward flight that would end with him too badly injured to survive. Instead, Egan had flown as though he had been born with a magnificent pair of wings.

His companions were equally astonished at Egan’s stunning success, and the bravest among them shuffled to Kieran’s side. “I thought we’d built a fine wing, but ours is no match for Egan’s. No one will call you a coward if you end the challenge now and walk down the mountain.”

Kieran had done his best to kill Egan in the sea, and he was too furiously angry to hand him the crown. “Our wing is of the same design,” he spit out through clenched teeth, “and I intend to use it.”

His friends exchanged horrified glances, for none wished to see him killed. “There was a rumor,” one interjected slyly, “that if Egan won today, the challenge would shift to his bride. Let him win this. He’ll still not rule.”

Ula had hinted that Egan would be doomed by his arrogant choices if not a disastrous flight. She and Garrick were constantly conspiring against someone who had done them a real, or even an imagined, insult. It was a game to them; but could they actually turn the whole tribe against Egan because he had chosen an outsider as his wife?

He raised a hand in a plea for silence while he considered the matter. He had known his kin to be a fickle lot, and on more than one occasion they had cheered a noble one day and turned on him the next. It was possible that despite Egan’s triumph, he would be despised by nightfall, but Kieran still had to prove he was the better man.

“If I walk down the mountain,” he explained, “I’ll always be the man who refused to fly. Which of you wishes to be known for what he’s failed to do? Come, help me don the wing.”

Once Kieran had secured the harness, he stood poised on the ledge and waited to draw sufficient attention to make the leap worthwhile. He had observed Egan’s flight closely, and though he believed the immense wing had accounted for the brilliance of his success, his brother had also been remarkably adept in handling it. Now all he had to do was follow his stunning example.

Egan held Oriana in an easy embrace, but he was prepared to swiftly shield her eyes should Kieran splatter himself against the rocks. “If he had any sense, he’d walk down the mountain,” he whispered against her curls.

“I imagine he’d rather die,” Oriana responded, but she was unable to suppress a chill of dread. She searched the sky for the hawk, but he had again disappeared, and when Kieran jumped from the ledge, he would be entirely alone. She had urged Egan to spare his brother’s life, but when Kieran chose to throw it away, she felt powerless to intervene.

“He’s waiting until he’s captured every eye,” Albyn observed with a weary sigh.

“There he goes,” Egan shouted, but his words were lost in the approving roar rumbling across the valley.

Kieran had lunged into the wind, but rather than fly, he felt himself falling. He stretched to send his wing out over the jagged rocks below, but the wind screamed like a banshee in his ears. He thrust his head up to tilt the wing and caught what wind he could, but it was barely enough to carry him beyond the treacherous base of Mount Royal.

He then fought to lean back and swung his legs forward as birds met the land, but a sudden gust of wind from the side knocked him off balance. The right tip of his wing struck the ground and dug a long furrow, then caught on a rock and spun him around before it came to rest. He choked on the dust, but shed his harness unharmed. Elated, he leaped into the air to wave his arms and cheer.

Egan laughed at the sorry spectacle, but he was more than merely amused. “Kieran has courage if little sense, but clearly I’ve won the day.”

“That you have,” Albyn agreed. “Make him come to you.”

With one last lingering kiss, Oriana left Egan’s embrace, but she remained at his side and took a firm grip on his arm. His kinsmen jostled against one another as they pressed forward, but Albyn still sat his horse behind them to protect them and the wing.

Druids in the crowd opened a path for Kieran, followed by Garrick, Ula, Skell, and Madi, who had all left their mounts to approach on foot. Despite Kieran’s clear loss, none appeared to have fallen into despair.

Egan waited until Kieran was close enough to reach out and touch before he silenced the crowd and greeted him. “There should be no argument today as to who won this contest, but I don’t trust you not to raise one.”

Still excited by his flight, Kieran refused to be humbled. “If I’d had your wing, and you mine, then I’d have had the better flight.”

Egan considered his brother’s complaint absurd. “But instead, we each had our own, and I won decisively. The challenge ends here, and now the preparations should begin for the coronation ceremony. You’ll see to them, Garrick.”

“It will be an honor, my lord,” Garrick responded with a respectful bow, but as he straightened, he resumed his supremely confident manner. “But first,” he added as an apparent afterthought, “I have been asked to pose a question.”

Egan immediately sensed a trick, and braced himself accordingly. “Ask whatever you please, and I’ll provide an honest answer.”

Also alarmed, Oriana slid a trembling hand down Egan’s forearm to lace her fingers in his, and though he responded with an encouraging squeeze, she remained terrified Garrick might harm him. She glanced over her shoulder at Albyn, and when his eyes shone with a menacing light, she knew he expected trouble as well.

Garrick slipped his hands into his sleeves and spoke in such an intimate tone, the crowd had to strain to hear. “You call this woman your wife, but when you become king of the Dál Cais, you must set her aside and wed one of our own.”

Oriana had always known Garrick was dangerous, but now he refused to turn his evil glance her way. He had to know her name, but he had deliberately chosen not to use it. There was no need to rely on the knowing to predict the hostility of Egan’s response.

With but a slight nudge from Skell, Madi stepped forward with a seductive sway. Her tongue darted over her lips in a provocative sweep, and she smiled up at Egan through her dark lashes. “I would be proud to be your queen, Egan, and unlike certain pretty strangers, my heritage is well-known. The men of my clan are fierce warriors and will serve you well in battle. This woman can do no more than bind your wounds.”

Feeling horribly betrayed, Kieran released a strangled moan, and Egan swiftly added a second protest of his own. “You’ve not only insulted my wife, but my brother as well. You’re no longer welcome here. Take your daughter home, Skell, and do not return to the fortress until you’re summoned.”

Clearly that was not the gracious response Madi had been led to expect. Frightened that Egan might emphasize his displeasure with a fierce backhanded slap, she looked toward Kieran, but he spit on the ground and turned his back on her. Then, fearful of drawing laughter from the restive crowd, she hurried to hide behind her father, who appeared to be no more pleased than she.

Garrick dipped his head as though Madi’s bold offer had been a painful embarrassment for them all. He appeared to ponder the matter and then swept Oriana with a dismissive glance.

“There will be no objection to your keeping this woman for your amusement, my lord, but our queen must be a noblewoman who is above reproach.”

Egan widened his stance. “Must I also warn you not to insult my wife? If that was your question, consider it answered. Oriana will be my queen.”

Oriana was too terrified to speak, but she thought Garrick extremely clever for referring to the king’s wife as “our queen,” as though she would belong to the entire Dál Cais. All that mattered to Egan was that his choice of wife be honored. It was no subtle difference of opinion either, but a major conflict she had warned him to expect.

Both men had stated their case clearly, but rude taunts continued to circulate through the crowd. The sun lent the elegantly clad nobles’ gold cloak pins and torques a fiery sheen, but there were plainly dressed farmers present as well. It swiftly became apparent to Oriana that with his spectacular flight Egan had won the support of the majority in both groups, but the selection of a queen remained a matter of fierce contention.

Oriana believed Egan had defended her courageously, and he would continue to do so, but without wealthy kinsmen to vouch for her character and provide warriors to defend the Dál Cais, she had no hope of winning any influential allies.

“Must we discuss this here?” she whispered anxiously.

“Aye, we must,” Egan assured her, his expression grim. Rather than a warm clasp, he pressed her hand in an urgent demand for silence. “I don’t wish to begin my reign with bloodshed,” he warned in a voice loud enough to carry to the outer fringes of the gathering, “but if I must fight for Oriana, then I’ll fetch my sword and begin with the first misguided fool who dares to oppose me.”

With breathless gasps, the crowd fell back to escape Egan’s wrath, but with a majestic confidence, Garrick stood his ground. While he raised his voice so all would hear, he belittled Oriana with a careless gesture. “This woman has insulted your father’s widow. This woman has insulted the Druids by questioning our judgment when we named Kieran the winner in the swim.”

Warming to his subject, Garrick paused to appreciate the crowd’s approving murmurs. “Indeed, this woman has insulted us all by claiming a white mare selected for sacrifice. This woman has neither clan nor past, so how can you value her more highly than your kinsmen of the Dál Cais?”

Although Egan could well imagine, he had no idea what Oriana had actually said after the swim. But before he could respond that Ula was a bitch who deserved no respect, and that he had been the one to claim the white mare, a hoarse shout drew everyone’s attention.

“Give them a night on Mount Royal!”

Garrick strained to listen, as though the suggestion had taken him by surprise. When it was repeated from another direction, and quickly taken up in a lively chorus, he broke into a satisfied grin.

“Do you hear our people, my lord? They’re calling for a night on Mount Royal to provide a true test of your bride’s worth. Follow the example of our first king, and with your woman, build a proper shelter on the mountain. At sunrise tomorrow, if you have succeeded, the matter will have been decided in your favor.”

The Druid raised his hands to promote an enthusiastic response from the crowd. “Is it agreed?”

A hush at last fell over the crowd as they awaited Egan’s reply, but several whispered taunts still reached Oriana’s ears with painful clarity. She winced as one man resorted to a malicious curse. She had been so happy when Egan had brought his wing down safely, and she wished they had been allowed to celebrate.

Certain what the Dál Cais valued most was strength, she raised her chin proudly. She was determined not to dishonor Egan, but she hoped he would find a way for them to confer before they had to climb Mount Royal, or take on any other ancient challenge. She had enormous faith in him, but when his people had such little respect for her, she would not be so foolish as to believe they would ever accept her as their queen.

Egan had already had a strenuous morning, and the prospect of taking on yet another challenge infuriated him clear to the marrow. He caught sight of Yowan and his sons and gestured for them to come for the wing. It provided only a brief interruption, but he considered his options carefully as they picked it up to carry back to the fortress.

“Aren’t you all hungry?” Egan then called to the crowd. “I am. Let’s eat before we make our plans.”

Garrick opened his mouth to object, but the mention of food had been too enticing, and all around him men were turning to escort their women toward the fortress. Garrick was forced to join them and led Ula back to their horses, while Skell dropped his arm around Madi’s shoulders and followed close behind.

Kieran, however, hung back and remained with Egan. He may have used treachery to win on his own, but he had not regarded his mother’s veiled promises as fact. Thoroughly disgusted by her interference, he swore easily. “I knew nothing of this. You won today’s challenge and are Cadell’s rightful heir. If Garrick will force you to fight for your woman, what will he seize upon next? No one chose him as our king.”

He glanced up at Albyn and finally noted his Druid’s cloak. “Go tell Garrick I said so. He can’t hurt me now that I’ve lost the challenge.”

“I won’t carry threats to Garrick,” Albyn countered. “Tell him yourself.”

Kieran sneered as he looked off toward the fortress, then back at his wing, which lay forgotten where he had landed. “I will tell him, but first I’m going to burn my wing.”

“You proved your courage,” Egan replied. “If you wish to fly again, copy the dimensions of my wing.”

Kieran was relieved there would be no argument on that score and began to back away. “Do you hope to fly another day?” he inquired.

“Ask me again when I’m king,” Egan responded, but he doubted it. This was perhaps the most agreeable conversation they had ever had, and he feared it had come too late.

Oriana watched Kieran walk away, but suddenly the morning had grown too bright, as though a flash of lightning had remained in the sky. No matter which way she glanced, the images were so sharp they hurt her eyes. It was a frightening sensation, and not unlike the alarming stillness that had heralded Egan’s arrival at the village fair.

That afternoon, her life had been forever changed, and tonight it would change again. She heard Egan laugh, still caught up in the heady excitement of his flight, but she feared nothing good could come for either of them that night.

Chapter Twenty-two

Albyn leaped from the dapple gray’s back and thrust the reins into Egan’s hands. “Take my horse and ride to the fortress with Oriana.”

While Egan hated to admit to a weakness of any kind, the burst of energy he had gained from his thrilling flight was rapidly waning, and he was forced to accept Albyn’s gracious offer. He set a brisk pace on the short trek and responded to his kin’s cheers with a jaunty wave. As soon as they had left their mounts at the stable, he took Oriana’s hand and, skirting the talkative crowd milling about the bailey, led her into the fortress and upstairs to his chamber.

He swung his door closed with a grateful sigh, took two long steps, and stretched out across his bed. “Give me a moment to rest,” he breathed out through a wide yawn and promptly fell asleep.

Too anxious to join him in a nap, Oriana looked down at her lovely amethyst gown and soft slippers and decided they were completely inappropriate for a trek up a mountain. While she would have to wear Adelaine’s cloak, the drab garments she had set aside for travel would be the perfect attire. She retrieved her own worn slippers, which she had left in her travel bag, and quickly assembled what she wished to wear.

She had just pulled one of the grayish brown gowns and tunics over her head when Albyn knocked at the door. She stepped out into the corridor and untangled her curls with her fingers.

“How much time do we have before we must leave for Mount Royal?” she inquired fretfully. “I’d rather not wake Egan until I must.”

Albyn was surprised Egan had chosen to sleep, but he had certainly earned it that day. “While he may need to rest, the sooner you leave, the better prepared you’ll be for the coming night.”

“My mother and I often built our own shelters out of stones or sturdy branches. If that’s all that’s expected, then Egan and I could wait until the afternoon and still complete the task before sunset.”

Albyn stepped back to rest his shoulder against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Where did you build these undoubtedly charming structures?”

In truth, they had been little more than rude huts, but Oriana saw no reason to describe them as such. “In the forest. Why?”

Albyn nodded thoughtfully. “It has to be a great deal easier to build a shelter on the level ground in the forest than on a rocky mountainside.”

“Aye, that must be true, but still it can’t be impossible or the king and queen Garrick mentioned would not have accomplished the feat.”

Her glance was so innocently trusting that Albyn hated to disillusion her. “There are some who swear the tale is no more than fanciful legend.”

“Well, even if it is, other than to disavow our marriage, there didn’t appear to be any way for Egan to refuse Garrick’s demand. Perhaps I don’t fully appreciate what we must do. Please tell me the legend so I’ll at least know as much as your kin.”

Uncertain where to begin, Albyn frowned pensively. “Quill could sing the tale with clever rhymes, but unfortunately, I’ve lacked the time to develop a bard’s talent for verse.”

He paused a moment to recall the details and then related them in an inviting whisper. “When our first king was a young man, he wed a remarkably pretty lass, and the happy pair set out to find fertile land for their home. In the course of their journey, they came to Mount Royal and climbed it to view the countryside. Before they could make their way down, dark clouds filled the sky, and they were pelted with freezing rain. Then a fierce wind began to blow off the sea, and they were trapped on the narrow trail for the night.”

Oriana’s close attention inspired Albyn to embellish his tale. “Now, the young woman who became our first queen is always described as a farmer’s daughter, who was not only lovely and fair, but quite strong. While our king used his ax to fell several trees, she gathered stones, and together they built a house that was remarkably sturdy. Despite the biting cold of the wind and rain, they passed a safe night in each other’s arms.

“It was such a splendid house, it is told, that the pair could not bear to leave it and so remained here in the valley. As they prospered, this fortress gradually grew up against the mountain. The wood of the original house rotted away, and the stones became part of our walls, but it is still remembered as a magnificent dwelling.”

“That is an entertaining story,” Oriana mused aloud, “but Garrick said only that we’d have to build a ‘proper shelter.’ He made no mention of our having to construct anything everyone would regard as magnificent.”

Albyn’s grin grew wide at the reminder. “I noted that too, and he can’t now insist that you build more than a sound shelter from the elements.”

“I still fear a trick,” Oriana complained.

“This is the eve of Samhain. At summer’s end, there is always drinking and feasting long into the night, but if Garrick dared to send someone out to harm you, they would also have to brave the treacherous weather on Mount Royal.”

Oriana recalled the thick fog that had made it so difficult to follow Egan into the fortress and refused to imagine what the night might bring. “He’d send Druids,” she proposed. “While they’d not dare use knives, they could attack us with stones, and try to shove us off the mountain. At dawn, those who found our broken bodies lying on the rocks would simply blame the mountain for our deaths, wouldn’t they?”

“Aye, they would, but I plan to keep watch at the gate,” Albyn promised. “This is a poor way to welcome the peace of Samhain.”

Egan brought the only peace Oriana had found in the forbidding fortress, but she had caused him far too much pain. Blinking away tears, she took the precaution of glancing up and down the corridor before she spoke.

“There is another choice. If I don’t wake Egan, he may sleep for hours. In that time, I could take both of the mares he’s given me and travel a very long way.”

Albyn had never met another woman with such a lively mind, nor with such distressing thoughts. “If you believe Egan would welcome your departure, you’re very badly mistaken. Even if it put his claim to rule at risk, he’d go after you. You’ll have to remain here and do all you can to prove yourself a worthy queen.”

Oriana did not even know where to begin such an arduous task. “I’ve survived on my wits, not by physical strength,” she countered. “And Egan has surely seen better days. I hate to put him through yet another trying ordeal when the people here may never accept me. It would be far better for me to leave him now than to risk turning his people against him.”

Albyn saw another truth in the shimmer of tears brightening her gaze. “How could you bear to leave him?”

Oriana closed her eyes briefly against the overwhelming pain. “It would break my heart, but I’ll not force him to choose between me and his people, for that would surely break his.”

“Then to spare him that anguish, you must help him build a sturdy shelter and pass the night safely. Take other clothing so no matter how wet and dirty you get, in the morning you’ll look your best.”

He was providing such practical advice, that despite the darkness of her mood, Oriana felt compelled to agree. “That’s an excellent idea. Thank you. We’ll need food, bread, smoked meat, cheese, apples, nuts, perhaps a skin of wine or ale. Can you arrange it?”

“Aye, it will be my pleasure to serve you.”

While Albyn’s comments were always respectful, the yearning in his gaze revealed the depth of his regard. She reached up to brush his cheek with a light kiss. “Another path would have led me to you,” she disclosed sweetly, “but we were meant for separate destinies. Thank you for reminding me of mine.”

She had returned to Egan’s chamber before an astonished Albyn could reply, but while inspired to do her bidding, he felt only a great emptiness rather than a welcome promise of love.

When Albyn returned with their supplies, Oriana gave Egan’s foot a playful shake. “It’s time to go, my love,” she coaxed.

Egan responded with a low moan and failed to stir.

Oriana sat down beside him and ran her hand over his back. “Garrick did not imagine that I’ve constructed all manner of snug shelters. You’ve seen for yourself what a fine tent I raise.”

That unlikely boast was enough to startle Egan from his stupor, and he sat up meaning to grab his bride, but he saw Albyn by the door and contained his enthusiasm. “Aye, we are indeed fortunate that you’ve fashioned a tent or two. What do you have there?”

Oriana had already transferred the provisions to her travel bag, and pulled it open to display the contents. “Food, so we’ll not go hungry, and a change of clothes for each of us. People are so easily fooled by a fine appearance, and after a night on the mountain, we might need to improve ours.”

Egan rose to his feet, and taking care not to move too quickly, he yawned and stretched his arms wide. “Has any man ever had a finer wife?” he asked Albyn.

Albyn made no pretense at indifference. “Nay, she is a fine queen by any standard. Now let’s be away, so that darkness doesn’t arrive before we do.”

“I believe my tent is still in the stable. It would be good to sleep on if we don’t need it for anything else.”

Egan grabbed his cloak. “I’ll need my knife, an ax…. What else, Albyn?”

The pair were conversing easily, as though they were planning an afternoon outing rather than an adventure that carried considerable risk. “Nothing, when the ax will also serve as a shovel. Find a place where the rock is loose and dig a cave. It will not be elegant, but it will at least keep you dry.”

“What about flint for a fire?” Oriana added, and she moved toward the door.

Albyn reached for her bag. “It will be too damp on the mountain to coax a fire into life. I’ll carry this for you, my lady. Now, let’s be gone before Garrick can trouble you any further. I’ll ride to the mountain with you, return your mounts to the stable, and then bring them out with me again in the morning.”

As Oriana preceded them down the stairs, Albyn caught Egan’s eye. “She has no real idea how bad the weather can be, and though this is no true test of anything, I know you’ll take excellent care of her.”

“I’ll do much better than that,” Egan vowed. He still used his hands to guide himself down the stairs, but he was so eager to be with Oriana, he would have agreed to stay with her anywhere.

Because the real excitement would not come until morning, the majority of Egan’s kin were content to bid him and Oriana farewell from the bailey. Garrick had been so gratified by the ready acceptance of his challenge, his mouth was set in a contented smirk. He stood beside the gate as Egan and his bride rode out, followed by Albyn, Yowan’s sons, Neal, and several other Druids dispatched to observe.

Eager to accompany them, Kieran leaped astride his horse and followed. He caught some curious glances, but urged his mount into a canter, and quickly overtook Egan and Oriana. He circled them once, then took up a place behind them with Albyn.

“I want no part of this, Egan,” he shouted loud enough for all to hear. “I’ll keep watch at the gate tonight and make certain your only problems come from the mountain.”

“Then I’ll have to watch you,” Albyn vowed darkly.

In the distance, a lingering smoke trail marked the smoldering remains of Kieran’s wing. He was no happier than a heap of ashes himself, but he accepted Albyn’s insult with a good-natured grin. “I’ll welcome the company.”

Oriana glanced over her shoulder and quickly judged Kieran’s expression as sincere. “Thank you for your concern,” she called to him.

“Thank me at dawn,” he replied. When Egan failed to add either his gratitude or a warning, Kieran tapped his mount with his heels and rode off the way he had come.

Albyn did not look forward to spending the night beside Kieran, but the belief Egan and Oriana had something far worse in store silenced his complaint. When they reached the base of Mount Royal, he scanned the mountain for a stand of timber sufficient to build a small cabin.

“Do you see a place where the trees grow beside the trail?” he asked.

Rather than fell a tree on the mountainside, where it would simply roll down into the valley, Egan had decided instead to hack off all the sturdy limbs he could reach. “We’ll be fine. Take our mounts to the fortress and tell everyone we’ve stopped to sing and dance before beginning our climb.”

Neal caught the eye of another Druid and shook his head emphatically. “None of us is leaving until you’re well on your way up the trail.”

“How considerate,” Egan responded. “Would you care to climb with us, Neal?”

Neal stuffed his hands up into his sleeves and thrust out his lower lip. “No, of course not.”

Oriana slid off her mare’s back before Egan reached her. She slung her tent over her shoulder while he carried the heavier bag of provisions and clothes. “There was no mention of how far up the mountain we have to go,” she observed quietly.

Egan was pleased she possessed such a keen ear, but he was intent upon locating the best place to build rather than merely a convenient one. “Our only concern is to find a wide, flat stretch on the trail. Let me lead the way.”

Without bidding anyone farewell, Egan slid the ax into his belt, rested Oriana’s travel bag on his shoulder, and started up the trail. It had seemed awfully steep that morning, but after his previous exertion, the going proved tortuous. He paused frequently to make certain Oriana was keeping up, but she was right behind him the whole way.

As soon as he had caught his breath, he explained, “We want the mountain between us and the sea.”

“I understand.” But she was intent upon the strain in Egan’s gaze rather than the rugged terrain. “Do you need to stop for a while and rest?”

Egan nodded toward the men below on horseback. “Wait until they leave; then, if I have to, I’ll lie down.”

“What about the ledge where you jumped off this morning? It’s at least angled toward the lee side of the mountain. Would it make a good place to build?”

“I’d hoped we’d not have to climb that high. Come on, let’s keep moving and watch for something better.”

Oriana feared his side was throbbing with every step, and she reached out to catch hold of his tunic. “You need to pace yourself. Rest as often as you wish, and then you’ll have the strength to help me build a shelter.”

Touched by her tender concern, Egan bent down to kiss her soundly. “A king does not bow to an annoying twinge in his side,” he breathed out against her lips. “I agreed to this ridiculous demand not only to silence the fools who wouldn’t recognize a queen if she knocked upon their door, but also to speed my coronation. The instant the ceremony is complete, there will be no mistaking my power. Now cease to worry about me, and let’s be on our way.”

He continued up the trail with renewed vigor, and Oriana cared little whether it was anger or determination that had lengthened his stride; she was eager to follow. She paused frequently to glance down into the valley and was greatly relieved when the men who had been observing their progress turned back toward the fortress.

Then as she hastened to catch up with Egan, the trail he had just passed over crumbled away beneath her. Thrown off balance as she lost her footing, she clawed at the mountainside, but all around her the rock dissolved into jagged shards, and she fell into a dangerous slide.

Egan heard the trail break away, and spun in a wild lunge to grab Oriana before she tumbled all the way down the mountain. He caught only the edge of her cloak, and it pulled away along with the folded tent. He shook them off to seize hold of her flying hair and then quickly transferred his grasp to her tunic; equally frantic, she reached up and clung to his arm.

Lying flat next to the wide gap in the trail, Egan could see where the recent rain had weakened the soil and feared another hunk was about to break loose. “I’ll pull you up,” he swore, but that the woman he adored was in such grave peril made him sick clear through.

Convinced by Egan’s earnest vow, Oriana kicked against the mountain, found a toehold, and braced herself to help him. He was frowning with fierce concentration, but in her mind, she saw only his usual cocky grin, and it did not even occur to her that she might slip from his grasp and fall to her death.

Egan grit his teeth and crawled backward on his belly. To avoid loosening more of the rocky earth, he exercised extraordinary care and moved at an agonizingly slow pace. When he finally succeeded in pulling Oriana up onto the trail, he grabbed her in a convulsive hug. Once satisfied she was safe, he sat back to assess her injuries.

The left side of her face was scraped raw, and her arms bore long, deep scratches. Several of her fingernails were torn down to the quick. Jagged holes had been ripped in her tunic and gown, but she looked so vibrantly alive that he hugged her again.

Oriana was trembling all over. “We’ve lost your mother’s cloak,” she murmured between sobs, “and my tent.”

“They can be replaced, but I promised Albyn I’d take good care of you, and look what happened.”

“It appears even the mountain disapproves of me,” Oriana whispered.

“Aye, Mount Royal has always had a restless spirit, but I love you dearly, and that’s all that matters.”

He made a quick search of the trail and was relieved to find their bag of provisions within easy reach. He pulled out the skin of ale. “Have a drink; then I want you to try and walk. I’d stop right here, but I’m afraid the ground isn’t safe.”

Oriana was surprised to find her slippers were still on her feet, but even after several sips of ale, she doubted she could stand. She looked up toward the sun and wondered how much daylight they had left. She hurt all over, but with her hands so bloody and painful, she feared she would be no help at all.

“Oh, Egan, what are we going to do?”

He kissed away her tears. “That magnificent hawk showed me the way to fly this morning. Do you think Lugh might return to help us build a snug cottage?”

Oriana leaned away from him. “Lugh appears whenever he wishes. My mother and I never summoned him. Although, I will admit to hoping that should the need be dire, he might come to my aid.”

She looked as though she had been badly beaten, and Egan took care to aim his kiss toward her lips. “This might well be that time, my love.”

A fresh wave of tears flooded Oriana’s eyes. “But if he didn’t appear,” she struggled to confess, “I’d fear I wasn’t truly his daughter.”

Egan had not meant to call her heritage into question. “Of course you’re his child. Anyone who looks into your remarkable golden eyes can see you’re no ordinary woman. Now, let’s not worry about Lugh yet. Let’s just try to move a little farther on up the trail.”

Oriana was reluctant to let go of him even to allow him to stand, but neither did she want to remain perched beside a break in the trail and risk another disastrous fall. “How will we get back down the trail in the morning?” she asked.

Egan wished they had thought to bring a rope. If they had not lost the tent, he could have cut it into strips and braided one, but the tent had slid out of sight. “I mean to cut sturdy branches for our shelter. Tomorrow, I’ll cut a few more and build a bridge here. Now let me help you rise.”

The trail was wide enough for Oriana to walk beside him, but she was so badly shaken, she was unable to stand on her own. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but Egan slid his arms around her waist and gently pulled her to her feet. He then kept her clasped firmly against his side.

As they rounded the next bend, the path widened, and the branches of a stately oak grew up over the trail. Egan did not recall seeing the tree that morning, but he was even more astonished by the large hawk perched in the upper branches.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Look who’s come to our rescue.”

They had never been this close to the splendid hawk, and the bird stared back at them with equal curiosity. Egan recognized Lugh’s voice, and it was no longer an accusing whisper. “This fine tree is a gift,” Egan murmered under his breath. “We ought to thank him for it.”

The hawk was so very beautiful, Oriana found it nearly impossible to think at all. “Thank you for all your many gifts, Lugh,” she finally found the presence of mind to say.

In response, the hawk dipped his head slightly toward Egan.

“Why, Egan,” Oriana exclaimed. “You’re also one of his gifts.”

“Nay,” Egan argued. “You are the most remarkable gift any man has ever received.”

Apparently pleased with Egan’s remark, the hawk spread his wings in a graceful arc, left the oak to soar toward the sun, and swiftly vanished from sight.

Egan hated to destroy the mood of rapt wonder, but he could not keep still. “I swear to you this tree wasn’t here this morning, but its placed so perfectly against the mountain that we could climb into the branches and spend a restful night.”

Oriana swayed against him. “Aren’t we expected to do more than sleep in a tree?”

“Aye, that we are, but I want you to sit down and rest while I think how best to use this beautiful tree in our construction.”

Oriana was happy to comply with his request, but even with her back resting against the mountain, she was in agonizing pain. Even her scalp hurt where Egan had caught her, and her gratitude failed to ease the pain.

Firmly rooted, the oak grew out of the rocky soil, and Egan was quickly satisfied it was there to stay. “What if I create a platform over the lower branches to give us a floor, and then slant a roof over the branches in the center of the tree. Does that sound good to you?”

“It’s a splendid idea, as I’m certain all your plans must surely be.”

Egan broke into a loud guffaw. “Did you strike your head as you fell?”

“No, I’m simply striving to be an agreeable wife.” Oriana’s smile swiftly turned mischievous.

Egan laughed with her but started to work on fashioning a secure shelter. His side no longer bothered him, and he chopped through the oak’s sturdy branches with a methodical rhythm. As their shelter took shape, he began to look forward to passing the night there with the woman who made all his days and nights memorable.

Albyn kept his gaze focused upon the mountain until the sun’s last rays were swallowed by the sea. The guards had already lit their lanterns, and he moved aside so he could sit in full view of the gate. He had not thought he was hungry until Kieran brought him a platter heaped with roasted boar and warm bread.

Kieran sat down beside Albyn and began to devour the meat on his own platter with undisguised gusto. “I don’t want you falling asleep tonight, Druid, for should Egan suffer any misfortune, I mean to call upon you to vouch for my innocence.”

In the muted light, Kieran resembled Egan so closely that Albyn had to remind himself to remain guarded. “I welcome the food, if not your company, but I wish you’d brought some ale.”

Kieran immediately sent one of the guards to fetch them some, and the fellow returned with a pitcher and two tankards. “Anything else you’d like? I can highly recommend Fiona’s company.”

Albyn could only vaguely recall which woman she was. “No, I’d not want the unfortunate lass to become dissatisfied with you.”

Rather than take offense, Kieran was highly amused by Albyn’s attempt at humor, and he paused before taking another bite. “You should try Egan’s wing. Even dangling briefly from mine has changed my whole view of the world.”

Albyn shot him a skeptical glance. “Have you come to regret the attempt on your brother’s life?”

Kieran shrugged. “I still believe I’d make the better king.”

“Then pursue a crown elsewhere,” Albyn advised before breaking off a bite of bread. “The day of Egan’s coronation, I mean to set out on my own journey. You’d be wise to travel farther than a wing could take you.”

Kieran continued to eat until he had satisfied his appetite. He then set his platter aside and took a long drink of ale. “I’m too curious about how the morrow will end to begin making plans tonight.”

“It will end with Egan king of the Dál Cais, with Oriana by his side.”

“She is a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Kieran admitted under his breath.

Albyn did not trust himself to respond with more than a distracted nod, but he still suspected Kieran meant to do Egan grievous harm and intended to keep him in sight.

It was very late when Garrick made his way to Ula’s chamber, and the wind was howling down off Mount Royal and fluttered the tapestries lining the corridors. The diminutive beauty had left the feast early, and the Druid had delayed his arrival to make certain she would be thoroughly bored and eager to welcome him. Unfortunately, she was pacing her chamber and gestured with a wine goblet as he entered.

“Cadell never loved me. Oh, he took his pleasure with me, and often, but all the while he closed his eyes and pretended that I was Adelaine.”

Garrick removed the goblet from her hand and set it aside. He bent to whisper in her ear. “I never pretend with you.”

Ula continued to pace as though he had not spoken. “To Cadell, I was never as beautiful as Adelaine, never as charming, never as wise. I was merely the woman in his bed, never the woman in his heart. She was alive to him every minute we were wed. I was nothing more than a flickering lamp compared to the brilliance of Adelaine’s fire. Kieran is twice the man Egan will ever be, but Cadell never once thanked me for giving him such a fine son.”

Disgusted she would brush aside his affection, Garrick sat down upon the end of her bed, but though he was accustomed to her vindictive tirades, he had little patience tonight.

Ula’s dark eyes glowed with a malevolent light as she turned toward him. “Cadell truly deserved to die, didn’t he?”

If not high regard, Garrick and Cadell had shared mutual respect, and he had been as shocked by the king’s untimely death as the rest of his household. Ula’s grief had been profound, or so it had appeared when she had sought refuge in his arms.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Ula cocked her head slightly. “Why do you look so perplexed? Last year, when I asked you for poison to rid my chamber of vermin, did you actually believe I meant to use it solely on mice?”

Ula had always been prone to violent fits of temper, but he had never even imagined that she might kill her husband. He rose to his feet and struggled to understand what had actually happened. “Were all who fell ill victims of the poison?” he asked.

Ula stepped toward him with a slow, seductive sway. “No, I merely took advantage of an illness that arrived unbidden on its own. Aren’t you proud of me, Garrick? The wind has a piercing shriek tonight, and by dawn, Egan and his whore will surely be dead. Then Kieran will be king. He’ll follow your guidance as Cadell never did. Isn’t that what you’ve craved all along?”

Her fluttering touch was now revolting, and he grabbed her hands before she could begin to stroke his chest. Her expression had turned petulant, as though she had expected softly voiced praise rather than the horror her confession had inspired. She had never had a placid disposition, but he had not realized until that very instant that she was completely mad.

Perhaps she always had been. He had been a fool to use her supple body and overlook the fury of her endless hatreds. He was her closest adviser, and if it were ever learned that he had supplied the poison, no one would believe that he had not ordered her to kill Cadell. She had trapped him in her wretched plot and it took every bit of his considerable self-restraint not to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until he had choked off her last breath.

It was only the fervent hope that Egan would not survive a night on Mount Royal that kept him calm enough to step away from her. “We’ll not speak of this again,” he vowed. “We must rise early, and I want you to sleep so that you’ll look your loveliest at dawn.”

He stepped around her and left before she could argue that neither of them needed to sleep alone, but he barely made it to his own chamber before he began to retch. It had begun to rain, and he took comfort in the threat to Egan’s life while he strove to salvage his own.

Chapter Twenty-three

As soon as Egan pronounced their hastily constructed shelter complete, he led Oriana inside and pulled her down upon his lap. He fed her tasty bites of cheese and bread, and encouraged her to sip ale until she grew sleepy. But she slept only fitfully and cuddled closer.

“You are the best of champions,” she insisted between muffled yawns. She savored the soothing rhythm of Egan’s heartbeat beneath her ear, but she gradually became aware of another softly insistent sound.

“Has it begun to rain?” she asked.

“Aye, the raindrops are splattering against the topmost leaves, but the thickness of the branches and my cloak should keep us dry.”

A flash of lightning scorched the sky, and a raucous clap of thunder rattled the whole tree. The wind rose in a mournful wail, but enclosed in a leafy cocoon, they remained perfectly dry.

Egan still could not shake a disquieting sense of foreboding. Whenever Oriana murmured his name in a sleepy drawl, he hugged her and encouraged her to rest peacefully, while his own anxiety grew increasingly acute.

He pressed Oriana’s head to his shoulder, and his wrist brushed against the necklace of wooden beads she had slipped beneath her gown. He was sorry he had not thought to carve one for her with the same ambitious devotion his father had shown his mother. Of course, they had had no formal courtship during which he could have showered Oriana with thoughtful gifts.

“The wind has such an evil howl,” she whispered, “but surely no one has followed us up the mountain.”

She brushed her fingertips over the stubble peppering her husband’s cheek. “I had longed to return to the forest with you. Let’s cherish the night. Make love to me.”

Egan thought surely the brutal wind had twisted her words into what he longed to hear. “I could not have understood you,” he complained softly.

Oriana slid her hand over his shoulder. His muscles were knotted with tension, and she began to knead his flesh with a smooth, circular touch. “You understood me perfectly, and somehow, I doubt that you have refused many women.”

Egan smothered his laughter in her tangled curls. “Nay, you’re badly mistaken, for I have very discerning tastes. I’ve not slept with every comely lass who’s sent me an inviting glance.”

“It’s much too dark for you to appreciate just how enticing my glance is.” Oriana skipped her hand down his chest, over the flatness of his belly, then between his legs to cup him gently in her palm. “You should be able to feel this though,” she insisted.

There was a sturdy branch at Egan’s back, and without a moments hesitation, he relaxed against it. He caught Oriana’s wrist and pressed her hand along the length of his hardening shaft.

“In this hasty shelter, we’ll have to take care,” he warned.

“I have always taken care with you.” She slipped her hand from beneath his to loosen his belt and free him from his woolen pants. His sex sprang warm and heavy in her hands, and he responded to an easy downward tug with a grateful moan.

Oriana slid from his lap so she could bend to swirl her tongue over the tip of his manhood. When Egan arched his back and grabbed her hair, she hesitated to give him another such intimate kiss.

He drew in a ragged breath. “You mustn’t stop.”

Pleased to affect him so strongly, Oriana tasted him again, then drew him deep into her mouth. She felt tremors of desire shoot through his belly and quiver down his thighs. His grateful response encouraged further devotion, and following his generous example, she braced herself against his knee to give still more. She traced featherlight circles with her fingertips over his sack, and wished she could see as well as feel his flesh tighten.

She could have explored his masculine strength endlessly, but he could stand only so much of her affectionate torture before he had to grab her waist and yank her across his lap. She welcomed him into her depths, but he quickly raised her up, and then eased her back down onto his shaft to create a teasing torment of his own.

Oriana laced her fingers in his hair to savor his hungry kisses. He held her tightly, but she twisted and rocked back and forth to caress his whole body with her own. Overwhelmed by desire, she rode their shared passion to another shattering surrender. The faint pounding of the rain echoed her heartbeat and gradually slowed to a blissful lullaby.

Oriana awoke when the first rosy glimmer of dawn seeped through their leafy curtains. Egan was still asleep, and she traced the gentle curve of his ear with her thumb. When he opened his eyes and smiled, she leaned close to kiss him.

“You are going to be a great king and much loved by your people,” she swore convincingly.

“Our people,” Egan corrected, then, struck by the improvement in her appearance, he straightened. “Your bruises are gone. Let me see your hands.”

Oriana wiggled her fingers. While her nails were short, they were no longer painfully torn. The deep scratches on her palms and arms had healed and left only faint scars. Even her clothes, while slightly wrinkled, were no longer ripped and mud-stained.

“It appears we’ve spent the night in an enchanted tree,” she murmured.

“The only magic is in you,” Egan assured her. “I’ll remember last night forever.”

Oriana raised her hand to caress his cheek, and he placed a light kiss in her palm. “I treasure all my memories of you,” she confided wistfully.

Egan had no chance to create more loving memories before they heard Albyn calling his name. Disgusted to be so rudely yanked into the day, he raked his hair from his eyes. “Damn. He sounds frantic. What could have happened now?”

“I dare not even speculate,” Oriana replied.

Egan kissed her soundly, and after adjusting his clothing, he crawled by her to exit their shelter without bumping his head.

He relieved himself against the mountainside, then stretched to shake off the night. As Albyn came running into view, Egan complained loudly, “Hush. You’ve awakened every bird on the mountain.”

Albyn slid to a startled halt, his mouth agape. “At first light, Garrick sent Druids out to the sacred grove to prepare for your ceremony. They were dismayed to find a deep hole where one of the ancient oaks had stood, but I swear, it’s growing right here.”

“It would appear so.” Egan had been mystified by the sudden appearance of the tree on the mountain, but it had been such a welcome sight, he had given no thought to its original location.

“But how did you move it?” Albyn reached out to touch the closest branch and found it solid wood rather than mere illusion. “Did Oriana do this?”

“No. The tree was simply here when we rounded the bend in the trail, but I’ll be grateful if you’ll tell all who’ll listen that the gods sent it to bless our marriage. Now if you’ve come all the way up here to wake us, you’ve succeeded. How did you cross the break in the trail?”

“I cut a sapling to form a narrow bridge. We might have to add to it for Oriana.”

Oriana peered out of the tree, and finding the men engaged in a pleasant conversation, she joined them. “I hope you weren’t worried, Albyn. As you can see, Egan and I passed a remarkably safe night.”

“In a sacred oak it appears,” Egan added. “Give me a moment to change my tunic, and we’ll be on our way.”

Albyn again reached out to caress the oak as though it were a sacred talisman. “You may not be so anxious to leave here when you learn Duncan O Floinn arrived with the dawn. He could not have come to witness your coronation ceremony either.”

Oriana flinched at Duncan’s name, for surely he planned to denounce her and battle Egan. Badly shaken, she reached out for the solidity of the mountainside to steady her.

“Why does nothing run smoothly for us?” she moaned.

Egan winked at her. “One thing does, and when we are so finely matched a pair in that regard, nothing else matters.”

She was in no mood to jest. “Though Albyn has proven his loyalty, what you have always failed to understand is that I am a threat to all other Druids. I can actually see into the future, and they can only pretend.”

Egan shot Albyn a dark glance. “Would Garrick harm her?”

Albyn nodded. “To aid Kieran as much as to protect himself, yes, he would.”

Egan reached for Oriana’s hand. “If you feared this all along, why did you follow me into the fortress the day I sent you away?”

She had known he would need her, but there was a far more compelling reason. “Even in the fog, I recognized my path.”

“But I thought you couldn’t tell your own fortune.”

“I can’t, but you’d already touched my heart.” When he gave a welcoming tug, she stepped into his arms.

Egan looked over her head to Albyn. “When Lugh uproots trees to shelter us, Garrick won’t dare harm us. Now, if I’d killed Duncan as you’d wished, nay, demanded, then he’d not be alive to menace us now. Clearly you were right and I was wrong; just do not remind me of it in front of my kin.”

“I won’t, but if your people still won’t accept me as queen, you’ll have to let me go.”

Egan pushed her back a step. “The bond between us is far too strong for me to rule without you. You must feel the same powerful link.”

“Yes, I won’t lie to you,” she promised.

“Good. Albyn, look after my beloved while I gather up our belongings.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Albyn assured them both, but when he extended a steadying hand, Oriana shied away from him.

Egan entered their shelter for a moment, then returned to the trail to remove his cloak and yank off his tunic. He had grown accustomed to the tight pull of his stitches, but as he removed a clean tunic from Oriana’s travel bag, a piece of black thread floated across his hand. Believing a stitch must have come loose on its own, he paused to glance down at his side.

Amazed to find the ugly black trail gone, he turned to Albyn. “Did you intend for the stitches to fall out on their own?”

“I’ve not sewn up that many men, but no.” Albyn stepped around Oriana to take a closer look at Egan’s side and found that only a faint white line crossed his ribs.

“Once Duncan learns a tree moved from our sacred grove and how quickly your wounds heal, he’ll not still possess the courage to fight you. Now, even if you won’t share the spell for moving trees, you must at least tell me how you healed so rapidly.”

Recalling Oriana’s sensuous kisses, Egan ran his thumb down his side. Had he not keenly felt the bloody gash when Kieran slashed him, he would not accept another’s word that he had been cut. “I credit the enchanted oak for the healing, but the tree hasn’t revealed its secrets. Now, let’s be on our way while good luck still surrounds us.”

Oriana waited for Egan to pull a clean tunic over his head and repin his cloak, and then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. When she stepped back, her golden eyes burned with a fiery light.

“If you must fight Duncan, give me a sword, and I’ll fight with you.”

“In all my travels, I’ve heard no tales of such remarkable bravery in a woman,” Albyn murmured in awe.

Egan gripped Oriana’s waist lightly. “I’ve at least a dozen men who can be counted upon to be your equal with a sword, and I’ll not feel abandoned if you are secure in my chamber.”

“Do not laugh at me,” Oriana warned darkly.

“Aye, you would be worth a dozen men, but I need you to be a loving wife rather than a mighty warrior.”

Albyn watched Egan enfold Oriana in such a tender embrace, she swiftly ceased any effort to resist and leaned into him. They swayed in each other’s arms, and embarrassed to witness such an intimate exchange, the Druid had to turn away.

No woman had ever clung to him with Oriana’s fierce protectiveness, and overwhelmed with longing, he forced a cough to remind his friends of his presence. “Give me whatever must be carried,” he quickly offered, “and I’ll lead the way down to make certain the trail is safe after last night’s rain.”

Egan gave his bride a last hug, then stooped to retrieve the bags of provisions and clothing. “Don’t change your gown. That one, while subdued in color, will remind everyone where you spent the night, and their sympathy will be with you.”

That was a small enough request to grant, and Oriana complied with a slight nod, but she had not agreed to seek refuge in his chamber while he faced a deadly foe. “Does this not strike you as an odd time for Duncan to attack?”

Egan swung their travel bags to Albyn, then gestured for Oriana to follow his friend down the trail, but he remained close enough to grab her should she slip on the rocky path.

“As the beginning of a new year, Samhain is the time to make new alliances and end old hostilities. What was Duncan’s mood, Albyn? Could he have come to make peace?”

Albyn kept a watchful eye on the muddy trail as he replied. “He and his men are heavily armed, and if he has come bearing gifts, then they must be small enough to fit in a tiny pouch.”

Oriana turned back toward her husband. “I’ve predicted Duncan’s fate accurately in the past. It would behoove you to keep me close so that I may do so again. If he intends to play some foul trick, then I’ll provide a swift warning.”

Egan paused in midstride. “You are too precious to risk, and I’ll not subject you to the slightest danger for a timely warning. I already know Duncan despises us, and that will be enough to keep me on guard. Now watch the trail, my beauty, and let me worry about Duncan.”

Although unconvinced, Oriana did at least keep a close eye on the trail, and confident Albyn’s newly constructed bridge would hold, she crossed it without breaking her stride. But the speed of their progress down the mountain failed to ease her mind.

“I was the one Duncan meant to kill,” she reminded her husband.

“Aye, that he did, but I have his word that he’ll praise your name. If he breaks it, then he’ll be dead before his lies reach another man’s ears.”

“He may have already confided in Garrick,” Oriana warned.

“I did not see Garrick anywhere about, my lady,” Albyn called over his shoulder, “and the men left to guard Duncan will not honor the request should he ask for him.”

As they reached the horses, Egan plucked Oriana off her feet and swung her up onto her white mare’s back. “The morning will be over swiftly, and then no one will doubt that we are king and queen,” he whispered. He then turned to greet his kinsmen, who had come to see how they had fared.

By the time they reached the fortress, Duncan and his men were surrounded by large numbers of the intensely curious Dál Cais, who had been roused from their beds with the promise of a splendid fight. Garrick and Kieran were at the front of the noisy crowd, along with Ula, who was clapping her hands and nearly dancing with glee.

Oriana clung to Egan as he helped her down from her mare. Leaning close, she whispered an anxious warning, “Surely this is Ula’s evil doing.”

Egan had not expected such a large audience at so early an hour, and he was disgusted to think he could not send Oriana into the fortress without making it appear as though he were terrified by what she might see. Instead, he was forced to take her hand and lead her toward Duncan as though he meant to extend a gracious invitation for a fine meal.

He did take the precaution of seizing one of the swords Albyn had carried to Mount Royal, but as he drew to a halt in front of Duncan and his men, he rested the wickedly sharpened tip carelessly in the dirt.

Duncan’s appearance had not improved since their last meeting. Indeed, he and his whole hairy lot stank of their own rank sweat mixed with that of their horses. But standing on massive legs, the disheveled O Floinns created a formidable barrier, and Egan was far too clever a warrior to underestimate their combined threat.

Egan hailed his homely visitors with forced cheer. “Why did you not send word of your coming, Duncan? My bride and I would have provided a far more festive greeting than this.”

Duncan shifted his weight from foot to foot, but he remained balanced on his toes. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but his fingers twitched toward the sword and dagger suspended from his worn belt. “I’ve not come to be entertained,” he replied gruffly.

Egan shrugged. “I can think of no other reason why you might seek me out.” His wide grin was relaxed, as though the possibility of a fight to the death had not even occurred to him. As before, he rather enjoyed toying with Duncan, but he remained keenly alert.

Oriana was so frightened that she had to remind herself to breathe, but with the malodorous Duncan standing so near, the gesture brought instant regret. He had to have come to cause her the worst sort of trouble, and she could not understand why he had not already begun to curse her name.

She had no wish for a second glimpse into his undoubtedly short future, and looked away, but when her gaze fell on Ula, Oriana felt a cold shiver of death pass between them. Ula’s expression was filled with a predatory glow, and her lust for Egan’s blood turned Oriana’s stomach.

Certain her husband would need plenty of room to fight, Oriana took a step toward Albyn, who had also armed himself with a sword, but her husband caught her hand to bring her right back against his side. She longed to emulate his daring, but the instant Duncan spoke out against her, the fight would begin, and she dared not be caught between two flying swords.

Duncan’s eyes gleamed through fleshy folds as he watched Oriana squirm at her husband’s side. “You needn’t fear me, my lady. I have come to repay a kindness,” he vowed softly, but his expression held no hint of compassion.

He paused for a startled hush to travel through the crowd. “You spared my life, Egan. It may have been a hilarious joke to you, but it was a great gift to me. There are those in your household who heard of our battle and sought me out as an ally. I may not be a fine-looking man, but I keep my word. I mean to be a true friend to you and your lady, and I’ve come to warn you of the treachery afoot in your own fortress.”

Perplexed by Duncan’s motives, Egan studied the brute with amused disbelief, but behind him, Ula responded with a low keening moan that swiftly rose to a hysterical shriek.

“No!” she screamed, and she rushed forward to ram her tiny fists into the astonished Duncan’s quivering gut. “Egan reviles you as an oafish warrior. He swears a headless hen could outwit you. You must fight him, or you’ll draw the ridicule of all gathered here.”

Although insulted by her outburst, Duncan just shook his head. “You draw jeers only to yourself, my lady.”

At that comment, an appreciative giggle ripped through the crowd. Ula whipped around to seek its source, and her raven tresses flew out around her head like scattered feathers. When laughter began to echo all around her, she looked to Kieran for support. He responded with a befuddled shrug, forcing her to turn to Garrick, who dipped his head to hide a scowl beneath the thick folds of his hood. Infuriated with the Druid’s failure to defend her, Ula kicked her toe in the dirt, causing a fine spray of dust shot across his dark robe.

Just as Duncan had predicted, her furious tantrum provoked a burst of hearty laughter, and she raised her hands to cover her ears but the mirth only grew in volume. Unable to bear being mocked, she twisted and spun in an erratic dance. Her elbows flailed wildly toward the sky as she spewed curses.

“Cowards! Dolts! You worshipped Cadell as though he were a god, but he threw Adelaine to her death. He deserved every drop of the poison that killed him.”

Egan was standing close enough to hear every damning word and he shoved Oriana toward Albyn as he raised his sword. He had recovered his strength and would have used both arms to cleave his stepmother in half, but an unarmed Kieran lurched into him to knock the mighty blow wide. In that instant, Garrick caught Ula’s flying hair and brought his ritual dagger across her neck with a force that nearly severed her head.

Sprayed with Ula’s blood, Oriana clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her screams. Egan had been as agile as lightning, and had Kieran not been so eager to defend his mother, he would have killed her. But she was dismayed that Garrick had acted with such astonishing speed to slay the woman who seldom left his side.

As Garrick dropped Ula’s body in the dirt, he glanced toward Oriana. While he quickly turned away, she caught the fear in his eyes and instantly understood that he had known what Ula was about to reveal and had already grabbed for his knife. He had not been remarkably swift after all, she realized, but a painful moment too slow.

Chapter Twenty-four

Egan’s chest heaved with the effort to harness his temper, but he was so furiously angry that he was dangerously close to losing control. By prevailing in the challenges, he had earned the right to rule the Dál Cais, and it was only his steadfast conviction to use his power wisely that kept him from hurdling into a blind rage now.

He felt Albyn at his back, ready to plunge a sword into anyone who dared to rush them, but the crowd stood transfixed and the only motion came from those choking on their own startled gasps. Ula was dead, and Egan had knocked Kieran to the ground, where he knelt staring at the widening pool of blood seeping from the gash in his mother’s neck. But even if his half brother no longer posed a threat, another might still come from an unexpected source.

After assuring himself that Oriana had regained her composure, Egan kept a wary eye on the O Floinns, but they had huddled together and appeared to be content to observe. Should anyone else wish to object to his coronation, they were sure to do so in the wake of Ula’s death. Still brandishing his sword, Egan turned in a tight circle, caught the eye of each man who might wish to challenge him, and stared him down.

“We acceded to your demands and spent the night on Mount Royal,” he proclaimed proudly. “We were sheltered by a sturdy oak provided by the gods, and it was a remarkably comfortable night. We have passed the test, and from this moment on, I’ll not tolerate another complaint on my choice of bride.”

Egan watched Garrick use the hem of his robe to wipe Ula’s blood from his gold-handled dagger. The Druid refused to meet his accusing gaze, but his averted glance revealed a great deal. Egan strove to use it to his own best advantage.

He gestured with his sword. “Garrick, you will wrap Ula’s body in a shroud and place it on the back of the white mare chosen for today’s sacrifice. There has been enough blood spilled without taking the life of a fine horse when the pretty beast can serve a far more useful purpose. You will take Ula home, where I expect her people to welcome you and provide for your welfare until the end of your days.”

Garrick was stunned to be exiled and rapidly spoke in his own defense. “You heard Ula call Cadell a murderer and admit to poisoning him. No man loyal to Cadell would have allowed her to live.”

Egan’s expression remained implacable. “No, indeed. Ula invited her own death. But you shared her every confidence.” He hesitated and watched the fear mount in Garrick’s eyes. Without proof, he would not accuse the powerful Druid of complicity in his father’s murder, but Garrick was nonetheless tainted by Ula’s guilt and clearly he knew it.

“You brought Ula here to the fortress,” Egan stressed, “and you will accompany her body home and remain there. Is that understood?”

Garrick clamped his jaws tight, shook his head regretfully, and sheathed his knife. “As you command, my lord.”

Egan sent another assessing glance over the crowd and was swiftly satisfied all present were either too stunned or intimidated to torment him. He then rested a comforting hand on Kieran’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “Should you wish to travel with your mother’s body, I will bid you a safe journey and welcome you home upon your return.”

Kieran shook off Egan’s hand as he sprang to his feet. “Had you not stopped me, I would have killed her myself,” he snarled. “How could she have poisoned our father? He was worth ten of her.”

“Aye, that he was, but she cast him a murderer too.”

Kieran drew back his foot and slammed a rude kick into his mother’s ribs, but her limp body merely absorbed the blow. “I’ll never believe that vicious lie. Cadell may have slain many a warrior in battle, but he murdered no one, least of all the virtuous Adelaine. You’ll go alone, Garrick. I mean to travel, but not with the body of this traitorous bitch.”

“Remain with me today,” Egan urged. “You should stand at my side during the ceremony.”

Kieran offered a grudging nod, and Egan turned to Albyn. “Rather than delay Garrick’s departure. I want you to perform the coronation rites.”

“It will be my honor,” Albyn agreed.

“Do you even know what must be done?” Garrick snarled.

Albyn bowed slightly. “Aye, I do. You needn’t worry that I will shame the Druids in either word or deed.”

Garrick glared at the younger man. “You must leave now, or the sun will already be high in the sacred grove. When you return, I will be gone, and Ula’s name will be forgotten.”

“As it should be,” Egan interjected. He then gestured toward the crowd. “Come, men, let us be on our way.”

While his kin gradually began to move toward the stable or the gate, Egan paused to smooth Oriana’s curls and placed a gentle kiss on her brow. “Please do not fret. Spend the day creating a new banner for me, and we’ll fly it on the morrow. I want a hawk in flight. Can you do it?”

Oriana could scarcely believe she had escaped the horror of Ula’s fate, for from her first terrifying confrontation with Garrick, it had been her worst fear. She was badly shaken, but the prospect of fleeing to Egan’s chamber with a useful task to occupy her day held an irresistible appeal.

“Aye,” she responded confidently, although she had never been skilled with a needle. “I’ll make you a beauty.”

She returned Egan’s parting kiss, then sent a furtive glance toward Duncan O Floinn. He and his companions were already walking toward the stable where they had tethered their mounts.

“Duncan,” she called. “Please take the horse Egan won from you.”

Egan had already ridden through the gate, and for a long moment, Duncan pondered the wisdom of Oriana’s offer before finally accepting. “He’s a fine mount, and I’ve missed him. I thank you for your kindness, my lady.”

Rather than being kind, Oriana had simply sought to rid the fortress of any reminders of Duncan O Floinn, but she smiled as though she were sincerely touched by his praise and bid him a pleasant farewell. There was obviously an art to being queen, and she vowed right then to earn the respect of the Dál Cais through the generosity of her deeds.

Nearby, Neal and two fellow Druids were arguing as to how best to wrap and carry Ula’s body. Oriana avoided looking their way, but she doubted she would ever be able to cross the bailey without recalling how swiftly Ula had met her death.

As she joined the other women streaming through the wooden doors leading to the inner fortress, no one made way for her to pass ahead of them, which was most disrespectful. Clearly the day belonged to Egan rather than his queen.

Long before Egan and Albyn had reached the sacred grove, the Druid began to complain. “You’ve left Oriana all alone, and she must still be terrified.”

In Egan’s last glimpse of his bride, she had appeared remarkably serene, and his only emotion was immense pride. “Women are barred from the ceremony, and we must hold it without further delay. We might have disguised Oriana in a Druid’s cloak, but it is too late now to consider such a devious ploy.”

“She’d not don a Druid’s cloak for any purpose,” Albyn argued persuasively. “But still, we should not have left her alone. Has she even one friend among the women?”

From what little Oriana had revealed about her life, Egan doubted she had ever been close to anyone other than her mother. “No,” he admitted, “but she soon will, and without Ula’s virulent hatred to inspire mischief, none will dare harm her. Now promise me that you’ll rush through the ceremony so that I may return to my bride.”

“It is an ancient rite and impossible to hurry. Afterward, there will be a great feast to celebrate your coronation, and again no women will attend. I’m afraid you’ll not see your dear Oriana before dawn.”

Annoyed by Albyn’s undoubtedly astute prediction, Egan gazed off to the right, where Kieran rode alone in a dejected slump. At least his brother had come with them, but he was still amazed by his actions. “When I shoved Kieran aside, I thought he meant to protect Ula. Do you believe he really would have killed her?”

“Aye, that I do. He was devoted to Cadell and would never have forgiven her for his death. But, frankly, I was astonished by Garrick’s speed with his dagger, and by your haste to banish him.”

Egan broke into a satisfied grin. “I doubted I would ever have another such perfect opportunity to be rid of him. Garrick was privy to Ula’s secrets, so he must have known the truth about my father’s death. I believe he was greatly relieved to escape being accused of it.”

“Aye, he did give in easily, so perhaps he dared not allow a more lengthy discussion.”

Egan leaned down to smooth Raven’s mane. “Without proof, there was no point in accusing him, but I’ve never trusted him. There’s the sacred grove. Let’s find the hole where the great tree is missing and dance around it.”

After the morning they’d had, Albyn was astonished that Egan possessed sufficient energy to even consider dancing, but as always, he willingly followed his best friend.

Upon entering the fortress, Oriana requested Myrna’s help with the banner. Delighted to be of service, the little woman gathered the necessary materials and suggested they work in Adelaine’s room. As soon as they were seated on the bed, Oriana spoke her worst fears aloud.

“Ula claimed Cadell killed Adelaine. Is that what you were afraid to admit?”

Pained by the query, the tiny woman curled her shoulders as if to hide. “Since we last spoke of it, I have done little but ponder Adelaine’s fate. She was a great beauty and all men admired her, but she adored Cadell and never encouraged other men’s affections. As for Cadell, she was the love of his life, and he was a thoughtful man, deliberate in his actions, not one given to fits of jealous rage.”

Because Egan had already suffered so terribly, Oriana hoped Myrna’s faith in Cadell was justified. “I’m relieved to hear it. Still, someone caused Adelaine’s death. Rather than an enemy, she must have had an admirer who could not abide being rebuffed. Perhaps he chanced upon her alone and merely wanted a kiss, but she fought him, and her death was a regrettable accident.”

“What an imagination you have,” Myrna murmured, and she sorted through her needles without looking up. “Adelaine would never have gone up to the battlements on her own.”

“Then perhaps her killer carried her body up there and tossed it to the rocks to cover the horror of his deed. I wish it hadn’t been so long ago. Did any of the men who admired Adelaine seem particularly stricken by her death?”

Myrna delved deep into her faded memories before supplying a name. “Innis, Albyn’s father, made no secret of his fondness for Adelaine. When she died, he sat and wept with Cadell for days. All thought him a great friend, but could guilt have prompted his tears?”

Long before Ula’s hateful accusation, Oriana had hoped to solve the mystery of Adelaine’s death, but she dared go no further if in seeking to prove Cadell’s innocence, she cast suspicion on Albyn’s father. Not when such a terrible possibility would destroy the already troubled young man.

“Please tell me Innis is long dead,” she begged.

“Aye, he was killed in a battle soon after Adelaine died. That very year it was, or maybe the next. That is how Albyn came to be raised here with Egan.”

“We will not speak of this again,” Oriana insisted with an anguished shudder. “Perhaps all we will ever know is how deep Ula’s hatred ran. She may have murdered Cadell, but we’ll not allow her wicked lies to diminish his memory.”

Eager to escape the bloody horror of the morning, Oriana reached for a length of black silk. “Now, let’s put our minds to more wholesome thoughts and work on the banner. This would be good for the eagle, and the brilliant blue for the field.”

A light tapping at the door drew Oriana from the bed, but she could scarcely believe she had a visitor. Fearing it might be Garrick come to say good-bye, she opened the door only slightly and found a tall blonde on the other side. She was positive Egan had introduced her, but she could not recall her name.

“I am Fiona, my lady, and while it has taken me a while to find you here in Adelaine’s chamber, I’ve come to offer my help with the banner.”

“Thank you, Fiona. Won’t you come in?” But as Oriana gestured toward the bed, she glimpsed Myrna’s disapproving frown. “We’ve not yet begun, but is there something we’ve forgotten, Myrna?”

“A queen is expected to keep better company,” Myrna murmured under her breath.

Oriana thought she remembered seeing Fiona with Kieran, but that was no reason to disqualify her as a friend. After all, Fiona was the first woman to approach her, and she deserved a fine welcome as a reward for her courage.

“I will choose whatever company I please,” Oriana announced proudly, and plucked the black silk from the bed.

“Egan requested a hawk in flight, but I wish to show the bird with his talons outstretched swooping down for the kill. I can see it so clearly in my mind, but I’m not certain I can cut it from cloth. Do you think you could help me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Fiona insisted. “I’m very good with fabrics and a needle.”

“Thank goodness, for I am not,” Oriana confessed, and she ignored Myrna’s sour expression to make room for Fiona to join them on the bed.

“Others should have come,” Fiona apologized. “But they are all afraid of you.”

Oriana nearly gaped in surprise. “I thought they merely disapproved of my lack of family. Why are they afraid? I’ve done nothing to harm anyone here.”

“Perhaps not, but any woman who could captivate Egan so completely quite naturally commands awe. If you can cast love spells, I do wish you would make one for me.”

Fiona possessed the pale beauty of moonlight, but while she had foolishly revealed her true reason for offering her friendship, Oriana was so grateful for the distraction that she refused to complain. “I’ve heard of love charms,” she revealed, “but did not use one on Egan. Now, tell me, who it is you admire, Fiona?”

“I thought you meant to sew,” Myrna chided.

“Aye, that I do, but it won’t hurt us to converse as we work.” Oriana smiled at Fiona, who blushed deeply, and she was greatly amused by how completely her unique talents had been misunderstood.

When Egan returned to his chamber late that night, he found the banner draped across the foot of his bed. He picked it up and carried it to the hearth to study it closely in the warm glow of the fire. He had thought only of a hawk with widely spread wings, but Oriana had captured the instant before the handsome predator caught his prey.

It was not only a regal banner, but one that proclaimed a king’s might. He hoped to be worthy of it and folded it neatly across the chair.

The day had been endless, but the head of each clan had sworn his allegiance to him. Now the challenge would be to continue the alliances his father had forged, or Oriana would have to fashion a hundred such terrifying banners for him and his men to carry into battle. He was too tired to consider that likely possibility tonight, and he absolutely refused to burden Oriana with it.

He had stopped by his father’s chamber to rinse away the day’s dirt before approaching his bride, but on the morrow, they would move into those more spacious quarters. As he took a step toward the bed, he took off his shoes and his clothing, and then slipped beneath the furs to join Oriana in bed. He was exhausted, but he longed for the thrill of her love rather than an escape into lonely dreams.

Kissed awake, Oriana hugged her husband with a desperate passion. “What a wretched day. I feared it might never end.”

Egan gathered her close. “I thought it a remarkably good day, although it pained me to hear Ula admit that she had poisoned my father. Even if I was robbed of the pleasure of killing her, I have the immense satisfaction of knowing that she’s dead.”

Oriana leaned back slightly to study his expression. Fatigue shadowed his gaze, but he appeared at peace. Still, she wondered if he had begun to agonize over his mother’s death. “What of Ula’s damning accusation?”

“Not even Kieran believed that preposterous lie. No, Ula wanted only to defame the memory of a fine man who deserves nothing but praise. I told you, I doubted that my father had ever loved her. Ula must have hated him for that. I am so sorry that you will never know him, Oriana, but he would never have harmed the woman he loved, and no vicious lie will rob me of the comfort of my memories.”

With all involved dead, Oriana doubted they would ever learn the truth, but she would not question Egan’s faith in his father. Unfortunately, her uncharacteristic silence only served to pique his curiosity.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “That my mother must have been murdered by a man who was welcome here in the fortress? A man my father regarded as a friend? A man who was so obsessed by my mother’s beauty that he could not bear to share her, and thought her better off dead than in my father’s bed?”

Shocked that he had come to the same conclusion about the murderer’s motives as she had, Oriana sat up and drew the thick furs to her chin. “Do you know his name?”

Although weary, Egan sat up to face her. “No, but I’ve seen the hunger in Albyn’s eyes when he looks at you, and I’m glad he and Kieran are leaving at dawn.”

Oriana had eaten little that day, but she did not believe it was lack of food that caused a wave of dizziness now. “I know Albyn admires me, but he’s not a man who would swear he loves a woman with one breath, and kill her for being another man’s wife in the next.”

“Do you want him to stay? Do you wish to become as inseparable a pair as Garrick and Ula were?”

“You needn’t shout,” Oriana scolded.

“I am not shouting. Give me an honest answer.”

Oriana considered distracting him with affection, but after they had made love, his doubts might remain. “You want the truth, of course.”

“Aye, that I do,” Egan assured her, although he nearly choked on the words.

“Albyn is appealing, but after I’d met you, I could not have become interested in any other man, no matter how handsome or charming. It is fortunate that you wanted me for a wife, or I would have continued to wander the world alone, and loving you as desperately as I do, refusing all other men’s attentions. Rather than break Albyn’s heart, I would have encouraged him to seek his destiny with another. Indeed, I have already done so.”

Egan stared at her incredulously. “Just what did he say to prompt that piece of advice?”

Oriana dipped her head to consider her reply. “I don’t recall. Perhaps it was merely the pain of his loneliness that spoke to me, but I assured him he was meant for another. He didn’t believe me, but one day he will.”

Egan had been holding his breath, and now released it slowly. “I didn’t even know I was lonely until I met you.”

Relieved he was no longer angry, Oriana snuggled into his arms. “I knew only that one day, I would have a husband as fine as my mother’s.”

“You mustn’t liken me to a god; I’m merely a king.”

“You are better than a god, my darling, for you neither glow with a blinding light, nor vanish for years at a time.”

Oriana smothered Egan’s chuckles with a deep kiss, and then allowed him to catch his breath. “What did you think of the banner? Will it do?”

“Aye, it is both beautiful and terrifying, exactly what a warrior king requires.”

“You are all that I will ever need,” Oriana whispered, and, inspired, she began to sing Lugh’s lilting melody to welcome another night of unforgettable loving.

PRAISE FOR NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR PHOEBE CONN!

MANGO SUMMER

“…The setting is so beautiful and the characters so likable that it’s easy to lose yourself in this sensual fantasy.”

—RT BOOKreviews

MIDNIGHT BLUE

“Midnight Blue is a wonderfully endearing novel. Ms. Conn masterfully commandeers your attention and abducts your imagination to the high seas…A fast-paced and pleasing read. I recommend it to anyone looking for a real love story—it will make a lasting impression in your heart.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Midnight Blue entertains with stimulating dialogue between the hero and the heroine. I smiled all the way through the story, wondering which of the two would get the last word in. You might be surprised to know which one does.”

—Fresh Fiction

WILD DESIRE

“A great Western romance…[that] will capture your heart. For a Western with action, romance, and a little sensuality mixed in, this is a book fans and all readers will have to try.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Phoebe Conn has done it again with her novel, Wild Desire. This historical romance is a pure delight to read from cover to cover.”

—Roundtable Reviews

“Ms. Conn packs quite a wallop with [Wild Desire].”

—Midwest Book Review

Also by Phoebe Conn

Other books by Phoebe Conn:

MANGO SUMMER
MIDNIGHT BLUE
WILD DESIRE
LOVESCAPE (Anthology)

Writing as Cinnamon Burke:

RAPTURE’S MIST
LADY ROGUE
RING OF FIRE

Copyright

LOVE SPELL®

May 2008

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016

Copyright © 2008 by Phoebe Conn

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E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0484-4

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