Celtic Bride (25 page)

Donncha took one of Keelin’s hands. “’Tis glad I am to see ye, Keelin O’Shea, and glad to know that ye did not perish when we sent ye away.”

Keelin was still recovering from the shock of seeing her countrymen here in Wrexton’s hall. The hand that Donncha held trembled, she looked up at Marcus more than once to verify that she was not dreaming.

“Aye,” she said in a small voice, “we’re still alive.”

“The wars between the O’Sheas and the Mageeans is over, lass,” Connor said.

“Over? Ye mean Mageean—”

“Aye. ’Twas a sad day for all of Kerry when Mageean murdered Cormac,” Donncha said.

“But at least Eirc O’Shea put the bastard in his grave before Cormac’s dead body could grow cold.”

“Mageean is dead?”

“Aye, lass,” Connor said. “That’s what we’ve been tellin’ ye.”

“Eirc is chieftain now,” Laoghaire said. “And with Mageean gone, he’s rebuilding
Carrauntoohil. The keep, the church, the town—’tis all improvin’ with his leadership.”

“And with Ruairc Mageean gone,” Laoghaire added.

Keelin realized then what her vision of Carrauntoohil meant.

“Eirc’s sister has the gift, Keelin,” Connor said. “She’s got the second sight and can use
Ga Buidhe an Lamhaigh.
The elders have decided ye’ve devoted enough of yer life to defendin’ the spear.”

“And since yer plannin’ to wed Lord Wrexton,” Donncha added, glancing at the big Englishman who hovered over Keelin, “we’ll take the spear back to Kerry and let yer cousin use it to hone her skills.”

Rather than feeling a sense of panic at losing the spear, Keelin felt relief. ’Twas a heart-shattering, lung-bursting relief! She could relinquish
Ga Buidhe an Lamhaigh
without guilt.

Before she could reply, all attention turned to the staircase where Tiarnan was being helped down by Bill, the footman. Tiarnan’s expression was one of shocked delight.

The O’Shea elders walked over to greet him as he arrived, and the three men hugged and clapped backs while Marcus pulled Keelin closer. “Do you mind?” he asked. “Giving up the spear?”

“Ach, no, Marcus,” she said. “’Twill be my greatest pleasure to hand it to Connor and Donncha…well, perhaps my second greatest pleasure,” she added, smiling wickedly.

“Adam is
pleased that Tiarnan decided to stay at Wrexton with us.” Marcus lit a few more of the candles that had been placed around the bed.

“Aye,” Keelin said as she watched her husband. His movements were controlled and elegant. Mere moments before, he’d shed his wedding tunic and was bared to her view from his waist up. The flickering light caught on the golden hair on his chest, and with his every move, defined the muscles of his chest, his arms, his abdomen.

Keelin shivered with pleasure at the view.

“And what do you think, Keelin?”

“I think yer still wearin’ too many clothes, Marcus,” she replied.

He gave her a rakish smile and began to walk toward her, unlacing the points of his chausses. “What about you?” he asked. “You’re still in your wedding gown.”

“I need yer help to get out of it.”

“Then, by all means,” he said as he touched his mouth to hers, “let me assist you.”

Keelin could hardly breathe as he teased her lips with his own, until she opened for him, allowing him entrance. All the while, his beautiful hands worked at her laces.

His tongue barely touched her, yet Keelin felt waves of pleasure crashing through her. Anticipating how his hands would feel when he finally removed her gown was pure torture.

He rained kisses down her throat, then pushed her gown from her shoulders. Standing nearly naked in a thin white chemise, Keelin touched Marcus intimately for the first time as his wife.

He threw his head back and reveled in her touch, while Keelin took pleasure in his response to her.

“Did you know
I once thought you a sorceress, my love?”

“Nay,” she breathed, scorching the length of him with hot fingers. “Ye never said. What changed yer mind?”

Marcus could barely speak, but managed to say, “Who says I ever did?”

ISBN: 978-1-4603-5989-1

CELTIC BRIDE

Copyright © 2001 by Margo Wider

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