Celtic Stars (Celtic Steel Book 4) (14 page)

"Sit, sit," he beckoned through chews. Motioning for a servant to bring her a trencher, he pulled out the empty chair beside him and she took residence.  "What is it now? Ye say she's been missing? How long again?" he asked.

"More than a day, at least that's what I can gather."

"Her
mathair
doesn't know? he asked sarcastically.

"Nay, Raelyn has gone to McTierney lands with Cordal."

"And, exactly how many summers is this lass?" he queried while catching the eye of the wine bearer. "Here, have some wine," he said as he pushed a goblet in front of her plate.

"Twelve, wait, thirteen, maybe thirteen. I can't remember right now."

"I wouldna' worry if'n I was ye," he chuckled. "She is probably out with her friends getting into some good mischief, is all."

"I don't think ye understand, Jamie," Odetta whispered, watching the faces of those in the hall who were watching her. "We intend to make war with the Burkes at mid-day tomorrow during the eclipse."

"And - what of it?"

"And - if she is no' found before then, she may be trapped in the middle of something we canna' get her out of. That is if she isn't already a prisoner of Easal."

"Ye think he would have use of her as a prisoner? What, to hold her for ransom or some other such nonsense?"

"I think he has her already," Odetta replied, burying her head in her hands.  How was she going to tell them what she knew without causing them to distrust her even more than they already did.

"I know because me spy brought me word that they do."

Jamie put down his food and turned to face her. Her aura was blue and he sensed she was telling the truth.  "How....just how do ye know this?"

"Because, he brought me proof," she said, fumbling with something in her lap. "They have harmed her as well. And - I feel just awful about that," she began to weep.

"What did he bring ye? What is that?" Jamie asked, staring at her fumbling hands. "What is that, Odetta?"

"Jamie, it's is her finger."

"Her finger?" asked Flynn, who had happened upon the conversation. "What are ye talking about?" he grinned as he filled Jamie's mug with more ale before sitting down across from the two.  Lady Burke, are ye alright? Ye look pale," he said, reaching a concerned hand her direction across the table.

"Nay, I'm not alright. I've just received the worst possible news. And -  I am not sure what can be done about it," she added before storming out of the great hall in tears.

N
INETEEN

Burke Land

She was light headed and the blood was everywhere. She could hear Missus Edward's muffled groanings and the sound of her rolling about in the corner of the cottage,
still tied up,
she presumed.  Ochnar hadn't bothered to tie her up, he knew she would faint and remain unconscious for some time after what he had done, and that would give him time to get away.

It would take him an hour or more to get to Odetta. What he would bring her would most certainly usher in the war that his master Easal so clearly desired.   A pinky finger and a ransom demand and they would be well on their way to getting the Nexus and sending Easal on his way.  And then he, Ochnar Callahan, would be Lord of Burke Lands. He was the closest living relative of the late Burke Lord remaining in the territory and he would take up the mantle as clan leader.

One swift slice of his sharpened dagger and the tip of her left pinky finger was gone. She cursed, staggered and passed clean out, right there in the cottage. Missus Edwards made to come at him with her carving knife, but he knocked her down and tied her up. How could these silly women possibly understand the bigger picture?

Once Odetta got word that Easal held the lass and sought a ransom demand for her return, the O'Malley's would finally agree to meet in the Valley at high noon tomorrow.  The war would be on, they would soon occupy the Island and the search for the Nexus would be in full swing. Easal promised to declare Ochnar Lord as soon as he had the Island as his own. Then he, Ochnar, would marry Aisling instead. Marina was clear this was the only way. And - they were to have an heir, right away,
as soon as possible
she said.  Aisling would make him a fine bride, especially now that she knew who was going to be in charge. The little matter of a missing pinky finger would cause him no distress.

Odetta was shocked, outraged and clearly shaken up. She was not herself, clearly.  Not even close. The sign of blood was nothing she would have flinched at before. What had become of the evil witch? Had she gotten soft?

Ochnar was as direct as he could have been. "We have the lass, and unless ye can get the O'Malley's to agree to meet us at noon on the morrow for the battle, I will return with her head." She nearly passed out.

"I understand," she repeated, unconsciously perhaps, over and over again. "I understand," she said, looking him the eyes.  She carefully re-wrapped the package, stood, looked him the eye again and said, "Ye must be off. Tell Easal we will meet him on the morrow."

Ochnar tilted his head, searching her face for any sign of the Odetta he once knew.  "Would ye like my report on Easal, milady?"

"Nay," she said nervously pulling at her skirt. "Ye must be off, and I have plans to make. Ye best be on yer way if ye intend to get off without being seen."

***

Patrick hadn't meant to doze off. His solar was unusually warm and the last few nights had proven difficult to sleep. It was the same dream, or day-dream or hallucination, he wasn't quite sure anymore. She was there on the ridge, backing away from a group of people, in some peril he presumed. Her falcon was circling overhead. She was dangerously close to falling over the cliff, but she continued to back away anyhow. He was calling to her, but she wasn't listening or she couldn't hear him. A man was raising an arrow in her direction and she was terrified at the sight.

He had been having the same dream about Darina since before they even met, and he still didn't now what it all meant.  Except this time, his beloved was very clearly pregnant.

"Patrick." His thoughts were interrupted by Flynn.

"Aye," he replied.

"Patrick, we have need of ye in the council chambers," he said forlornly.

"Has something happened?" he asked hesitantly.

"Aye, it has. Something critical is requiring your attention. I've gathered the others, let's be on our way," Flynn said. Fanai sat obediently at Patrick's feet. The hound hadn't left his side since Darina left with Airard, and Moya wasn't any help at all when he questioned her. His wife was strong-willed and no doubt she would be back soon, he just wished she had taken her guard with her. She had gone through six of them in the last few weeks, and Patrick was at a loss as to what to do about it.

"We are here," Patrick said before stepping into the council chamber and noticing Odetta and Jamie Burke were also there. "What's going on?" he asked, clearly concerned.

"Patrick, Orla has been taken by Easal. He is holding her unless we agree to meet tomorrow at noon in the valley to do battle," said Jamie.

"And - how do we know this?" asked Patrick.

"His
mathair
has a spy," bellowed Ruarc, accusingly.

"A spy? asked Flynn. "Ye have a spy in Burke Lands?" the chieftain roared.

Odetta hung her head low and weeped. "Aye, I do. 'Tis Ochnar, a distant cousin on me mathair's side. I've had no reason not to trust him until today. He brought word of Orla's capture, and....this," she said, holding out the wrapped cloth containing the finger.

"What is that?" Lucian inquired.

"'Tis her finger, her left...p...pi...pinky finger," she muttered between tears.

"Let me 'ave a look a' it," Flynn demanded, gesturing for Odetta to hand it over.

"Tell me," he said, "how old is Orla?"

"She is nearly thirteen summers," Odetta replied. "She has been like me own daughter, I raised her meself, to keep her safe from Easal."

"This finger is too large for a thirteen-year old lass," said Flynn. "This belongs to someone else. They are toying with us."

"But, Orla is missing," Odetta said, "And so is Braeden."

"Braeden is missing?" yelled Patrick. "Why wasn't I told?"

"Hold on, hold on!" Ruarc replied. "Orla and Braeden are recovered. They were found two hours ago on the Island. They are a little worse for wear and have a story to tell mind ye, but they are fine, just the same. They are now recovering at the Inn, Minea is seeing to that."

"Then whose finger is that?" Patrick asked.

Flynn grew pale and sweat dripped from his brow.  He sat down with a hard thud on the bench in front of him, still examining the contents of the cloth. "Patrick, this is Aisling's finger."

"Aisling?" Dervilla piped up from the doorway. "Aisling, your former betrothed?"

"Aye."

"How do ye know that is her finger?" Patrick asked.

"Because of the scar here, right on the tip," he pointed.

T
WENTY

O'Malley Territory

His mouth tasted like the sweet wine they shared with their supper. His right hand was gently rocking the sleeping babes in the bassinet beside their soft feather bed while his left hand was inching its way up, under her shift. She leaned into his embrace and stroked the back of his neck with both hands.

"Parkin," she whispered into the darkness. "Are the bairns asleep?" asked Kyra.

The movement of his right hand confirmed they were, and she was soon swept up, into his arms and carried gently to the sheep skin rug which lay before the fireplace.  He spread her hair out, around her face and marveled at its length. She stopped cutting it when she grew round with her pregnancy. She couldn't ride after all, and had no need to fit it into her helmet. It was nearly passed her shoulder blades and beautifully wavy.  Her face was aglow with the light set off by the small fire and her lips were parted, ready for his advance.

He leaned in and tongue met tongue, in a tender dance. So gentle were his movements, she barely felt her shift being ripped from the bottom to top. His warmth was unmistakable, however, and she arched her back in response and surrender.

"Kyra," he moaned into her mouth before trailing kisses all along her jaw line and then from the neck to shoulder and back. "I can't get enough of ye." His mouth found her breasts and gently caressed the swollen mounds, careful not to use too much pressure. "How much longer will ye feed the babes?" he asked chuckling at the moisture which sprayed suddenly across his cheeks.

"Just a few more moons," she giggled, grabbing his head with her left hand forcefully, in mock attack. He reciprocated in kind and brought her up to meet him, supporting her weight with his right arm. He locked eyes with her and drank in her beauty, so unashamedly open was his worship and he kissed her again, forcefully this time.

"Parkin, I'm not sure it will matter though," she gasped, in between his assaults.

"Ye are mine, Kyra."

"Aye, ye own me Parkin, body, and soul. Well, at least soul, anaway."

He stopped his attack on her neck and looked up. "I own ye,
body
and soul, Kyra." He followed that with a playful smack on her bum and redirected his intentions to her luscious hips.

"The twins, they may have something to say about that," she mused as the evidence of their hold on her dripped down her belly.

"I plan to stake my claim soon enough," he quipped, as he lay her back down on the rug and hovered over her, leaning up on one arm while the other found its rightful place under her head. His heat grew rigid against her hip and his left leg swept up over her and down again on the other side.

"Parkin," she whispered softly.

"Aye, me love," he replied, deep in concentration.

"I've something to tell ye, and I hope ye'll be happy about it," she said.

"Can it wait, love?" he asked, inching his member close to her slick, throbbing entry.

"I fear ye'll be wanting to know, first...before...well. Ye'll want to know love," she said grabbing hold of his throbbing cock and stroking it lightly. His face wore a mask of ecstasy or anguish, she wasn't sure. He lay a gentle kiss upon her forehead and bid her continue.

"Parkin, ye won't own me body just yet, I'm afraid."

"I'll own it anatime I intend," he said playfully, moving his swollen tip inside her just a bit. She arched reflexively sending him deeper than she intended. He grinned a devilish grin and stabilized his arms underneath, never taking his eyes off hers.

"Tell me why ye say such, Kyra?" he asked, licking his lips and instinctively grinding his hip against hers, eliciting a delicious moan from his bride.

"Because, Parkin, I am with child, again."

He stopped, frozen it seemed, and closed his eyes tightly. A tear rolled from the corner of his left eye and landed on Kyra's cheek. "Parkin, have I upset ye?"

He shook his head no but released his position to lay next to her on the rug on his back. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pulled her onto himself to rest her head on his chest and he weeped. She stroked his arm with her fingertips and asked again, "Parkin, have I angered ye?"

"Nay, Kyra. I am so verra happy."

"Then why are ye crying, my love? My body is yours, body and soul, ye know this Parkin. I was only toying with ye."

"I know Kyra," he whispered.

"What is the matter then?" she asked.

He was silent for what seemed a long moment, and then asked, "Kyra, how far along are ye?"

"Nigh to seven weeks," she said, adding, "At least according to Vynae.

"And the babe, it's alright?" he asked.

"Aye, Vynae assures me all is as it should be."

He whimpered and pulled her close to himself, kissing her forehead, but no longer hiding his tears.