Dragon Knight's Sword (22 page)

“Oh aye, Duncan Mackay, I’ll remember.” Standing, Cormac stomped his boots, shaking off the dirt and leaves. “So the big brawny knight has found himself a woman.”

Could it be conceivable she would be his salvation? “By the gods, I pray it so.”

Chapter 31

“Love is like a warrior’s battle—easy to begin, yet hard to stop.”

“More hot water, my lady?” Sienna stood with another pail of steaming water, and Brigid nodded in affirmation.

“I shall get the rose scented soap to help ye with your tresses, too.”

“Hmmmm, so wonderful.” Brigid thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Never in her life would she take something so simple as a bath for granted again. She didn’t even mind that they had to haul those buckets of hot water up here for her.

When Sienna took one look at her and her clothing, she had pointed a finger at Nell to get Micah and the others to bring up the tub. She started tsking at her clothing, saying it was not proper for a woman to wear such material. Brigid just chuckled to herself.

Sitting in the chair by the fireplace, she waited for them to haul and fill the beautiful tub, not caring that she had to undress and give her clothing to Sienna. However, Brigid did let her know that she would be keeping those items and would tend to their cleaning, which only prompted more tsking from Sienna.

Brigid sighed, sinking more into the tub.

“My lady, if ye would dunk your head, I can lather the soap in.” Sienna pulled up a stool near the tub.

“Please, Sienna, just call me Brigid, and thank you for helping me with my hair. I can just imagine what it looks like.” Giving Sienna a smile, she slowly submerged herself under the water, bobbing back up. Sienna started massaging the soap in, and the smell of roses and other scents soothed her weary body. After the past few days, she would have lathered with lye just to feel clean again.

“My lady—” Brigid held up her hand in warning to the reference, and Sienna giggled. “
Brigid
, where did ye meet Sir Duncan?”

So, thought Brigid, how could she explain their meeting? From what she discerned, Duncan was addressed as Sir Duncan and the people here still gave him the honor—one of a Dragon Knight. They continued to worship the pagan ways here in this time. However, would they comprehend time travel? Brigid smirked. “No, they would not,” she whispered.

“Did ye say something, Brigid?” Sienna was leaning around giving her a queer look.

“No, nothing. Sorry, it just feels so good to bathe. To answer your question, Duncan and I just met a few days ago. I was traveling with family, and we became separated. Duncan is assisting me to search for them.”
Holy crap! Where did that come
from?
She just made up the biggest lie, and now she had to find Duncan fast to give him the details.

Plunging herself back under, she splashed water everywhere, causing a squeak to emerge from Sienna.

“Oh, so sorry, Sienna,” gasped Brigid. “The water’s getting cold, and I think I’m clean enough.” Good one Brigid, another lie to add to the list. If you’re not careful, you’re going to be tripping over them before the day is over with.

****

Duncan had thought to work off some of his restlessness by training in the lists. However, after an hour, his emotions were more twisted than ever. What was he thinking in throwing a fist at Cormac? He rammed his sword into the ground and ran a hand through his hair. “God’s teeth!”

Casting his gaze up toward the sky, he saw Sorcha circling. Going over to the bench, he grabbed one of his gloves and whistled. She circled once more and dove straight at his arm, landing as gentle as a feather. Sorcha was special, not only to Cathal, but Duncan, too.

“Good eventide, little lady.” Stroking her gently, he spoke comforting words in the old language. Sorcha tilted her head to one side as if she understood.

“It is good to see ye and Sorcha have bonded.”

Duncan whipped his head to the side, surprised to see the druid within Castle Creag. “Cathal? What brings ye inside these walls?” Looking back at Sorcha, he smirked, “Missing your feathered friend?” She blinked once at him.

“Nae Duncan. I believe ye needed her. I am here on another matter.” He stood with his arms behind his back, a frown marring his features. “I need to speak with ye and Cormac.”

Taking Sorcha to the edge of the lists, Duncan released her. Tossing off his glove and reaching for his sword, he asked, “Why is my gut telling me I will not like what ye have to say?”

“Go and wash. We will talk after the meal. I have made my greetings to Cormac and requested his presence with ye.”

Grabbing his plaid, Duncan tossed it over his bare shoulder, walking away from Cathal. Coming to a halt at the entrance, he paused and turned around. “Tell me this, does it entail Brigid?”

Cathal stroked his beard before answering, walking over to where Duncan stood. “The sword, your quest, all of it
entails
Brigid. She is bonded to ye until the day of reckoning. Ye cannot keep fighting this. Trust in the fae.” Placing a hand on his shoulder he gave it a firm shake. “Do ye understand my words, Duncan?”

“Oh, aye, I ken your words, until the day the Fenian warrior comes to take her!” he spat out. The wind whipped past, followed by a thundering boom.

“It seems ye still need to work on taming that angry beast of yours. I shall see ye at the evening meal.” Shaking his head slowly, Cathal walked away from Duncan.

Leaning against the archway, Duncan closed his eyes. He had secured the walls around his heart with anger to block out the pain. And if he could not have Brigid…“Then I will
never
tame the beast,” he growled, slamming his fist against the stone.

Chapter 32

“They wove a golden thread of time around their hearts, fearing they would separate from one another.”

Laughter spilled out from the great hall, and the smell of food lured Duncan in like a woman. He did not know how hungry he was until the scents assaulted him, and his stomach responded in a fierce growl. Walking in, he saw the tables laden high as if it were a feast day. Then he remembered Cathal was here, and Cormac would indeed prepare a feast for the druid. It was not every day they had the great and mighty Cathal feasting at their table.

Music filtered from the corner and he smiled. It reminded Duncan of happier times when they celebrated the feast days together as one clan. “Feast days?” he muttered to himself. How could he be so blind? They were fast approaching the feast of Samhain. Strong magic always occurred on days such as these. Cathal had mentioned the day of reckoning. Would it happen then, and what would they have to encounter? Could it be possible?

Duncan’s stomach growled again, and loudly. His steps quickened as he passed others in the great hall, and then he froze at the vision he saw before him. Sitting near the head of the table next to Cormac was the most bewitching woman he had ever laid eyes on.

“
Brigid?
” He croaked out.

Her dark amber hair framed her heart-shaped face and fell in a wild mass down her back. He had thought her beauty glorious in her strange clothing, but nothing could compare with her gown of dark emerald edged in gold trim, hugging her voluptuous form. No jewelry adorned her, and he thought none would do her justice, for she carried them in her eyes. Sitting next to her was Finn and Nell, and she laughed at something Nell said. He had never seen her laugh, and his breath caught in his chest. Her entire face lit up. Her laughter so infectious it spilled over to the young ones.

“By the Gods!” he whispered. “It is more than my heart that is bonded, Cathal.”

“Sir Duncan, what are ye gaping at?” One of Cormac’s men had come up behind him and shook him free from his thoughts.

The man cast his sight toward Brigid. “Oh aye, she is a bonny, bonny lass. Where did ye come upon her?”

Duncan flashed him a lethal look, one that let the man know his place when it came to Brigid. “I would hold your tongue when it comes to
my woman
,” he snarled.

Holding up his palms, he stepped back. “Sorry, Sir Duncan. I did not ken she is your woman.” Bowing slightly, he proceeded to walk away, taking his place at the far end of the table.

“Duncan, are ye going to stand there all night, or do ye plan on running a blade through one of my men?” Cormac arched a brow and waved him on over.

Duncan strode over to where Finn was sitting on Brigid’s left and nodded for him to move down. Finn sighed, reluctantly moving out of the way. Duncan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank ye, Finn.”

The glow in the young boy’s face broke into a huge smile. “Gladly, Sir Duncan. I was keeping your place so no other would sit next to Lady Brigid.” His chest puffed out proudly as he spoke.

Duncan cocked his head to the side in question. “
Lady
Brigid?”

“Oh, aye, Sir Duncan,” Nell interrupted. “Lady Brigid has come from a faraway land with odd clothing and language. She
must
be a lady!” she exclaimed, causing Finn to nod in agreement.

A chuckle emerged from Duncan, and he turned to Brigid, “
Lady
Brigid, may I sit next to ye?”

“Yes, Duncan.” Brigid waited until he was seated then leaned close whispering, “And please don’t call me lady. I’m not royalty.”

Her curls had touched his face, and he had to fight the urge to grab a fistful and bury his face within. Giving her a full smile, he asked, “Are ye sure? Ye
have
been touched by the great dragon, my lady.”

Her eyes went round, and she placed her hand gently on one of his. “No, Duncan,” she said softly,” I’m just Brigid O’Neill from a land your people have yet to encounter.”

The shock of her hand on his sent sensual waves throughout his body, and the blush creeping into her face told him she was feeling the same. Taking his other hand and covering hers, his eyes glowing blue silver as he spoke low. “It is of no importance from what land ye came from, Brigid. Ye are descended from the fae and ye are
my
lady.”

When Duncan heard a loud cough coming from Cormac, he scowled at him. Must the man watch his every move?

Standing, Cormac took his mug of ale and held it aloft saying, “A toast, and welcome to the great druid Cathal, who honors us this evening with his presence here at our table.”

All had agreed with a raucous cry of aye, pounding the wooden table with cheers.

Cathal stood, bowing his head slightly to Cormac. “It is I who welcomes your hospitality and gives thanks for this feast.” Raising his hands out toward everyone, he continued, “Blessings of light and love my friends.”

“Let us feast!” proclaimed Cormac.

Brigid’s senses were on overload at the food before her. She had never seen so much food all at once. The scene was something out of one of her history books or a movie, down to the lavender scented rushes on the floor.

Slouched down, next to Cormac’s chair was a Scottish deerhound. Every now and then, it would raise its large brown eyes, pleading for some scraps. Bending low, Brigid whispered, “If you’re good, perhaps one small treat when I’m finished.”

“Do not start to fatten up old Fergus. He has a way with the ladies when he gives them those looks.” Cormac winked at her, as he took a knife and stabbed into a platter of onions and cucumbers in some kind of sauce.

The food made her mouth water, but it was the man next to her, who made her blood boil. The moment her eyes saw him, she had to stifle a gasp. Of course, he had marched into the hall with his ever-present scowl, making Finn move from his place by her side. However, in afterthought, he did say kind words to him.

No, it was a freshly shaved Duncan who had her staring in awe. How could he be any more handsome? Looking at the cleft in his chin only added more to his striking features. That he had bathed was evident in the smell of herbal soap mixed with his scent. His dark glossy locks shimmered in the candlelight as they fell in waves to his shoulder. There was the one lock that was forever slipping over one eye, tempting her to touch and play.

He had an intoxicating effect on her senses.

The tunic he wore was deep blue, threaded with gold and red and belted with leather. The belt had the gold clasp of a dragon, similar to his torc, which gleamed brightly from his neck. Duncan had chosen not to lace up his tunic, keeping it open. Whereas, not only could she see the torc, but his dark curling chest hairs. The only other item he wore were his boots, not the colored hose that some of the men wore. There were those who wore their plaids, and others wore chain mail.

For her, there was only one man who stood apart—
Duncan.

“Are ye going to eat or stare at my face all evening?” Duncan asked, holding some kind of meat in front of her face.

Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and all she could do was nod her head. She always went to mush at the sound of his husky burr.

“Open then.” A lusty look shone in his eyes.

Brigid complied. As he placed the piece of meat past her lips into her mouth, her tongue touched against his fingers, and she heard him groan. Closing her eyes at the pleasurable sensation of the meat, she sighed with satisfaction. Upon opening her eyes, she watched as Duncan placed the two fingers he used for her meat into his mouth, licking them clean.

“Tasty indeed.” He smiled devilishly. “What shall ye try next?”

Brigid grabbed her mug of ale and drank fully. Setting it back down she didn’t know where to begin. As her eyes roamed the table she asked, “What
is
all of this?”

“Well, ye have tasted quail, roasted with apples. Over there on the larger trencher is roasted lamb. Cabbage is in the bowls on either side of the salmon with dill sauce.” Duncan leaned close and his mouth gently brushed against her ear as he spoke. “The salmon dish is a favorite of Cathal’s, so no one will touch it, until they know he has.”

Brigid closed her eyes at the sensation of his breath across her skin. “And the breads,” she whispered.

“Och, lass, ye have a fondness for the breads, too? The one nearest ye is an oat and almond bread with honey for dipping, and yonder by Finn is rosemary bread.” Duncan reached for the oat and almond bread, tearing off a large portion. Dunking it into the honey, he popped the piece into his mouth and finished by licking the drops of honey from his fingers.