Elphame's Choice (30 page)

Surprised, Brenna raised her head and looked directly at the beautiful young cook, who was studying her with large, emerald-colored eyes.

“I wish ye joy, Brenna. The warrior has chosen well.”

Brenna flushed with unexpected pleasure. Foolishly, she couldn’t do much more than smile and breathe, “Thank you.”

Wynne winked at her. “Women must watch out for one another. The next time I get the ague, I’ll be expectin’ one of yer legendary horrid potions to put me back to sorts. Now, run along and be sure ye eat plenty, because Brenna, lass, ye may be needin’ yer strength.”

Smiling and blushing, Brenna carried her loaded tray from the kitchen, snagging some fresh linens from the basket near the door as the women laughed and called out bawdy encouragement.

Never in her life would she have thought it possible. They accepted her. They included her. And Cuchulainn desired her. The joy that moved in her chest was a small, newly fledged bird just beginning to spread its wings and soar from the secret place in her heart.

He gave her a haggard smile when she entered the tent.

“Fand’s hungry,” he said, grimacing as the cub suckled at his finger and growled in displeasure at receiving nothing for her efforts.

“If she feels well enough to be angry at you, I think I can safely say that she will live.”

Brenna filled the teat while Cuchulainn grappled with the wriggling ball of cub. As the cub latched onto the milky ball of cloth, she suddenly wished for a wound she could tend or an arm she could set.

“Will you sit by me, Brenna?” Cuchulainn nodded at the spot beside him on the narrow bed.

Brenna sat, clutching her hands together to hide their trembling. For a little while the only sound in the tent was Fand, noisily sucking and making small, puppyish grunts. Brenna watched the cub, noting the gentle way Cuchulainn’s hands held her. Every so often he would stroke the cub and mutter soft words of encouragement.

“It’s just me, you know,” Cu said, using the same soothing tone of voice with Brenna as he did with the small wolf.

“Just you?” she repeated, feeling incredibly stupid.

“Yes. It’s the same me who you ordered around the night El was injured. It’s the same me whose face you can read the instant anything goes wrong with any of our clan. The same me you’ve worked side by side with to bring our home alive again.” He smiled and shifted his body so that their shoulders and the sides of their legs were touching. “I’ll tell you a secret. For all of my rakish ways you, my sweet Healer, scare me almost speechless.”

Disbelieving, Brenna shook her head. “That makes no sense.”

“I’ve told you a secret—a rather embarrassing one at that. Now it’s your turn.”

She looked up at him. Her logical mind cried to protect herself—don’t open to him—don’t say anything. But his eyes rested on her, warm and expectant, and the hope that had fledged within her breast stirred again, beating away her fear.

“Your eyes are the same color as two gifts that were given to me by Epona.” Her voice sounded soft and a little unsure, but she held his gaze and did not veil her face with her hair.

“Gifts from Epona? What are they?”

“A turquoise stone and the feather from a bird’s wing.” Saying it aloud suddenly made it sound trivial, and she could feel her face heating with embarrassment, but Cuchulainn didn’t laugh or tease her.

“Will you show me someday?”

Brenna nodded. How could one simple question make her feel so amazingly happy?

The cub had finally slowed its ravenous suckling. Cu glanced at her.

“Please tell me that it is safe to wash this beast now.”

She looked at Fand. She was curled against Cuchulainn, belly tightly distended, milk dribbling from the side of her mouth. Then her gaze shifted to Cuchulainn. His hair was a tangled mess and there was sleep in the corners of his eyes. The linen shirt that was unlaced and showed a broad expanse of his chest was stained and crusty with milk and waste from the cub, as was the kilt that was wrapped haphazardly around him. Warrior and cub desperately needed bathing.

“As your Healer I can say with great surety that you may bathe Fand.” She wrinkled her nose at both of them.

Cuchulainn quirked an eyebrow up. “Though I sometimes appear to be a bumbling fool in your presence, even I can tell that my avowed intention to court you would have a much better chance of success if I didn’t reek of wolf urine. Would you say that you agree?”

Brenna’s stomach did a little flip-roll. “Yes.”

“Good!” he said, standing so suddenly that Fand made a grumpy,
murrugh
sound. Cu hushed the cub by tucking her snugly within his shirt. “You brought food?” He eyed the basket and the wine. “Excellent.” Then he turned and rifled through the chest that sat at the foot of the bed from which he quickly pulled out a clean kilt and shirt. Satisfied, he
grabbed the basket of food and laid the fresh linens over it. Then he held out his free hand to the staring Brenna.

“Well, you must come with us,” he said. “It’s too early to be barging in on my sister. As much as I enjoy tormenting her, nothing puts El in as foul a mood as having her sleep interrupted. And I’ll need her good humor later today when I formally ask her permission to court you—so using her bathing chamber is out. Fand and I could bathe in a basin.” He peered down at the filthy cub nestled against his skin. “But in truth I do not think that would suffice.” Absently, he scratched his head and muttered, “I hope the beast hasn’t given me fleas.” Then his face broke into a boyish grin. “So you will simply have to show me to the bathing pool that you and Brighid and El used.”

Brenna stared at him, not sure what to say. For all of her avowed strength, she could still feel her fear of taking this amazing, surprising chance fighting with her longing for the warrior.

Cuchulainn closed the small space between them and took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

“Would you rather not spend time alone with me, Brenna?”

Brenna swallowed and heard herself speak the truth. “I’m afraid.”

He lifted her hand to his face, and held it against his cheek while he gazed steadily into her eyes. “So am I, love.”

The honesty of his answer made her decision infinitely easier. She let her breath out in a rush. “Then we’ll be afraid together.”

THE MIST WAS
still thick and Brenna worried about not being able to find the pool, but when the road curved just so near the oddly shaped pine she knew instantly that that was the place she and her two friends had entered the forest. And, sure enough, after only a few paces she could hear the musical sound of water tripping down the three-tiered fall made of time-smoothed rocks.

The fog was thicker around the pool, and it seemed to Brenna as if Epona had conveniently veiled them from the prying eyes of the world.

“It looks cold,” Cuchulainn said.

Fand had wriggled about until her head was sticking from the opening in the warrior’s shirt, and she looked around with bright eyes, snuffling the air and making small, baby sounds.

“I remember it as being refreshing.” Brenna smiled at him. Sometimes he sounded just like his sister.

“Hrumph,” he said. Resolutely, he put the food-filled basket
on a nearby rock and then lifted the cub from his shirt. “Well, the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can eat.” He handed Fand to the surprised Brenna, who held the squirming, growling cub a little uncertainly.

“Cuchulainn, I really think it’d be better if you bathed her. She’s much more comfortable with you.”

Cu nodded while he unwrapped his kilt. “Just hold her for me while I get undressed.”

Undressed…the word echoed through Brenna’s mind causing her thoughts to skitter around like darting birds.
Well, what did you think, Brenna
, said the rationally functioning part of her brain.
That he was going to bathe fully clothed?
Honestly, she hadn’t thought about it until then. Until he unwrapped his kilt, kicked off his leather shoes, and…

…paused, before pulling off the shirt that covered him to the top of his thighs—the only thing left that covered him. He was watching her with a small, half smile teasing his lips.

“If my nakedness makes you uncomfortable, you can close your eyes. I’ll take Fand and then tell you when I’m in the water so that it’s safe for you to open them.”

“It makes me uncomfortable,” Brenna admitted. “But I don’t want to close my eyes.”

Cuchulainn’s answering grin was filled with the rakish charm for which the warrior was so well known. He was still grinning when he pulled the shirt over his head and, naked, retrieved the cub and plunged with noisy splashing and cursing into the pool.

She just stood there and stared after him, thinking that the sight of his broad, naked back and his tight buttocks might forever be burned into her eyes.

“Brenna!” he called over the sound of Fand’s whining protests at being submerged in the cold water. “Could you crush up some of that soapstone? Water alone—no matter how cold—cannot wash away all of this filth.”

Brenna nodded and got busy finding a fist-sized rock which she could use to break up the soft stone that littered the edge of the pool. Of course she almost crushed several fingers along with the soapstone because she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes from traveling to the pool.

“It’s ready,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant about crushing up soap for a naked warrior who had just declared his intention to woo her into being his lover.

He splashed toward her, exposing more and more of his body with each stride. Brenna scooped the soapstone into the cup her joined hands made and tried not to let her eyes wander down his emerging body—unsuccessfully. Grinning, he stood in front of her. The water covered him only to his knees. He cradled the sodden cub in his arms while he shivered and looked a little blue around the lips, but his smile was warm, mischievous, and heart-melting. He leaned toward her.

“My hands are full. Can you help me, love?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

Feeling very much as if she was moving through a delightfully naughty dream, Brenna sprinkled a liberal amount of soapstone on the complaining cub. Cu began working the powder into bubbles, but Brenna’s eyes couldn’t stay on the cub. They kept returning to the naked body of the warrior who stood so close to her. Before the logical part of her mind, which had dictated her very reasonable and responsible behavior for the past decade, could interfere, Brenna reached up and dribbled the soapstone over his chest and shoulders. With soft, hesitant strokes, she concentrated on rubbing the soap across his chest, reaching up and around the squirming cub. Cuchulainn didn’t move, except to shift Fand in his arms so that she could have better access to his body.

Brenna finally looked up to meet his eyes.

“You could join me, love. It wouldn’t be so very cold, with
the water covering us both and the warmth of your naked skin against mine.”

She wanted to; she wanted to badly. But when she thought about baring her flawed body beside his—that expanse of muscle which was covered with perfect, golden skin—her heart skittered into her throat, leaving the taste of fear thick in her mouth.

“I can’t,” she whispered, praying that he wouldn’t turn from her and reject her as a coward.

“Another time then, love. Another time. And we will have plenty of time,” he said with gentle surety. “Until then you’d better soap my hair as well. Fleas make for uncomfortable courting partners.” He sank to his knees so that Brenna could scoop more soapstone and work it into the thickness of his hair.

Brenna washed his hair while he scrubbed and admonished and coaxed the whimpering, squirming cub, railing about her lack of manners and gratitude. She laughed at their antics and tried to keep the gritty bubbles from Cu’s eyes while attempting to stay semidry herself.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling such happiness.

“Time to rinse, my girl,” he told the cub, and, holding the growling wolf tightly against his naked chest, he stood, winked through soap bubbles at Brenna, and with a whoop dived into the center of the chilly pool.

Brenna shook her head at them as they submerged, splashing loudly, then got out and started drying. Everything the warrior did was bigger than life. An aura followed Cuchulainn—an aura that was filled with power and the promise of the ability to achieve the impossible. And Brenna was beginning to believe that it was so, that the impossible had happened. Her deepest, most hidden desire had been answered. Cuchulainn had chosen her.

“I’m starving,” he said, laying one of the dry lengths of cloth on the forest floor. Grabbing the basket he motioned for Brenna to join him.

“You take your fairy wolf. I’ll be in charge of the food.” She handed the cub back to Cuchulainn, who grimaced, but tucked her—damp towel and all—inside his fresh tunic.

Brenna glanced slantwise at him, watching him try to position the cub comfortably as she unloaded their fare. In her best Healer’s voice she said, “Now you know just a little about how a woman feels when she carries a child inside her body for all those long phases of the moon.”

Cuchulainn flopped full-length on his side, finally getting the cub arranged so that she quit her restless squirming and settled sleepily against him. Then he turned his full attention to Brenna.

“A child, huh? You wish to speak of having children so soon?” He scratched his chin as if considering. “Mother will certainly be pleased.”

Brenna stopped midmotion of passing him a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese. She felt her face flame with heat and she knew that the flush of the unharmed side of her face only called more attention to her ugly scars. Out of long habit, she ducked her head, letting her hair veil her shame.

“No, Brenna!” Cuchulainn leaned forward, put one finger under her chin and gently lifted her face. “Do not hide from me.”

“That’s not what I meant. I—I was just…” Her words trailed off as she met his steady gaze. She drew a deep breath, and again chose to tell him the truth. “I’m ugly when I blush. I didn’t want you to see me.”

And then Cuchulainn did something totally unexpected. He didn’t offer platitudes to try and cover the awkwardness of the moment, or to disavow her feelings. He simply leaned closer to her and brushed his lips against hers. The kiss was gentle, but Cu slid his hand from her chin to the back of her neck and held her mouth against his so that he could slowly deepen the kiss. Brenna didn’t think about the fact that his hand was resting on the scarred side of her neck; she didn’t think about how
furiously she must be blushing; she didn’t think about his desire for her being impossible. She just closed her eyes and leaned into him. When they finally parted, both of them were a little breathless and Cuchulainn was gazing at her with lust-filled eyes.

“I like your blush.” His voice was husky. “It reminds me that I’m not the only one of us who is nervous.”

“You’re not,” she said, swallowing a small bubble of giddy laughter.

“Would you promise me something, Brenna?”

She nodded, thinking that there was little she could deny this man.

“Promise me that you will not turn from me or hide yourself from me again. Promise me that you will trust me not to hurt you.”

Brenna looked deeply into his magical eyes. Her own eyes widened with surprise as she understood what she glimpsed there—vulnerability.
She
could hurt
him
with her answer. He had never bared his heart to any woman before as he was baring himself to her now.

“It won’t be easy, but I promise you that I will not turn from you or hide myself from you again.”

“Thank you, Brenna, for the gift of your trust. I will not misuse it.” He kissed her scarred cheek while she held very still. And then, as if kissing her was something he did every day, he smiled and took the bread and cheese from her unresisting hand. “I should eat. I have to face my sister soon. That’s best done on a full stomach.”

Brenna took sliced meat from the basket and layered it on another piece of bread and cheese.

“Oh,” he added a little sheepishly. “Just so you know. I’ll be calling for my parents so that they can meet you, too. We might as well get it over with.” He jerked his head over his shoulder
at the pool of cold water. “It won’t be much worse than diving into that.”

Brenna’s heart thudded. “I’ve met your father. He is a great shaman.”

“That he is,” Cu said through healthy bites.

“But I’ve never met Epona’s Beloved. I hear she is very beautiful.”

“She is almost as beautiful as the young Healer I intend to wed.”

“Ooh!” The air left Brenna’s lungs and she felt a great, dizzying sense of delight mixed with a sickening tightening of her stomach.

Cuchulainn grinned. “Don’t worry, love. My mother has been trying to see me happily wed for years. She will love you.” Then, concerned at how pale she’d suddenly become he sobered and leaned forward to whisper against her lips, “And that is my promise to you.”

The morning mist showed no sign of dissipating as Cuchulainn and Brenna followed the road back to the castle. They walked slowly, holding hands and letting their arms brush intimately against one another. Brenna thought the grayness of the day was magical. It seemed that the gate to the spirit realm had been left ajar for her and she had moved easily from one world to another, bringing Cuchulainn with her. Instead of finding it frightening, the idea that the spirit realm was embracing her was somehow comforting. She was so content that she didn’t notice when Cuchulainn narrowed his eyes and began peering suspiciously into the fog-cloaked forest.

A vague, nameless Feeling of unease nagged at Cuchulainn’s mind, and he loathed it. Could the damned otherworldly burden not leave him in peace? Elphame was safe back at the castle. Brenna walked happily by his side. The forest held nothing more evil than an occasional bad-tempered boar. Yet
he suddenly had a skin-crawling Feeling of foreboding—and the Feeling was emanating from the forest, much like the premonition he’d had before Elphame’s accident. Perhaps his sister was contemplating another run. If that was the case, he’d simply keep her from it. She could be reasoned with—occasionally—and it was too soon after her accident for her to engage in strenuous exercise.

A thought passed through his mind, so brief that his conscious barely acknowledged it. It whispered a reminder of what happened when humans rejected gifts given by the gods.

Brenna laughed as they rounded a curve in the road and startled a squirrel who jumped and then chattered at them noisily.

“Oh, silly thing! We won’t harm you,” Brenna said.

That’s what he was being, Cuchulainn thought with disgust, a squirrel allowing senseless fears to rule him. He forced his shoulders to relax and refocused his attention on the lovely woman who walked so happily by his side. She was his future, not some nameless, faceless Feeling. He had chosen to live with his feet planted firmly in reality—he’d leave magic and the realm of the spirits to his sister.