Heir to Sevenwaters (51 page)

“I am his family.” The statement was final, absolute.

“You love your son. I understand that. I saw how my own father felt when Finbar was born: as if the whole world had changed. It is a powerful bond. But a son cannot love his father if that father denies him the future he wants, my lord. What if Cathal never comes around to your way of thinking?” This was risky; I based it on what I had seen in Mac Dara’s face earlier, something akin to despair. “What if he just isn’t suited to being a prince of the Tuatha De?”

Mac Dara looked me straight in the eye. “You’re wasting my time,” he said.

“Are you afraid to answer my questions?” Inwardly, I was quaking with fear.

“They are irrelevant. My son is here. He set foot inside my hall. That ensures he must spend the rest of his life in my realm. There is no charm strong enough to break that one. There is no enemy with the power to stand against me. Most certainly not you, young woman, courageous as you are. Perhaps foolhardy would be a more accurate term. Take my advice. Go home, find yourself a suitor Lord Sean approves of and live the rest of your life.”

A deep breath. “That’s just it,” I said. “I love Cathal and only Cathal. He is the man I want to spend my life with. He is the man I want to father my children. I will have no other. Do not dismiss this as a girl’s folly, my lord. I don’t want a suitor of my father’s choice. I want your son.”

I had seen it in his eye as I spoke, a spark, a gleam of interest. He was quick. He had picked up the message I wanted him to hear.

“What if he doesn’t want you?” he asked.

“Whatever you’ve done to him,” I said, blinking back tears, “it can be undone. I believe that. I can see you’re unhappy. Disappointed. Perhaps that’s because your son has been more resistant than you expected.”

“That’s not your concern,” said Mac Dara, dark eyes intent on me. “You know you can’t have him. You know who I am and what power I wield.”

“You took long enough to get him back,” I said before I could stop myself.

He smiled again, thinly. “My son is strong,” he said. “I would think the less of him if he had not fought me, evaded me, outwitted me. I would think the less of him if he had been quickly bent to my will. He’s not leaving here.”

I let the tears spill. “I knew all along that you would refuse,” I said, wiping my eyes. Every word must be chosen to aid my plan. “But . . . it’s very hard. If I can’t have Cathal, I will never marry. He’s the only one in the world for me. And it chills my heart to imagine the future alone, with no husband. I can’t bear the thought that I will never have children of my own.”

After a moment he said, “Children are easy enough to get. And you’re a comely enough woman in your own way. There’d be no shortage of takers, I imagine.” I saw in his eye that he would be all too ready to provide such a service himself.

“I do want a child, so much,” I whispered. “But not just any child. I want
his
child. His son.”

“Who would, of course, be my heir after Cathal,” said Mac Dara. “Oh, you are a clever little thing.”

He had seen right through my strategy. Clever? Compared with him I had the subtlety of a newborn babe. “Thank you,” I said softly, continuing to play the game since I had no other plan ready. “You know what I really want. I want Cathal as my husband, for the rest of my life. I want him to live in my world. I want us to bring up our children together.” It was easy to sound convincing, since my heart was in my words.

“You know that’s not going to happen,” said Mac Dara. “But perhaps there is room for compromise. Would you do it? Would you bear a son for Cathal, knowing you could not remain together? Knowing such a son would be yours only until he reached his seventh birthday? For I could not agree to such a plan unless I were sure my son’s son would cross to this world when he was ready to be trained in the ways of his own kind. What if you raised your boy and then, when it was time, found that you could not bear to give him up? Such a dilemma would break you. Besides,” he added after a moment, “chances are you would have a daughter.”

I put my chin up and squared my shoulders. “You make the bargain sound very one-sided,” I said. “Don’t forget what I would bring to it. Whatever you may think of humankind, you should realize that my bloodline is as fine as can be found anywhere in Erin. Not only do I carry the lineage of the chieftains of Sevenwaters, but I also bear the blood of the Old Ones from time long past.” Mac Dara hissed under his breath; I saw that perhaps this had been a mistake. “My son would possess both a flawless human heritage and the powerful blood of the Tuatha De, passed down by Cathal,” I added. “Imagine what such a child could become. He would inherit not only your remarkable skills in the craft of magic, but the wisdom and strength of the human line of Sevenwaters. In time, he could be a peerless leader.”
But not in your realm. I would make sure of that.

The Lord of the Oak drained his goblet. I was trembling with nervousness, my hands pressed together, my palms sweating. I had no idea what he would say.

“Let me get this right.” He fixed his dark eyes on me. “You are suggesting I should
replace
Cathal? My own son?”

“No, my lord. But even if Cathal became exactly what you wanted him to be, you would still value a grandson highly, I imagine. I don’t want to give you my child. If I did, I would not be much of a mother. But I want to see Cathal, and I want his baby. To have that child for seven years would be better than never having him at all.”

“You have truly surprised me,” said Mac Dara, and I felt a surge of hope. “I’m forced to confess that I like your style. Supposing I agreed to this. Supposing I said you could have one night with my son, one night only, to do what you needed to do. There would still be an impediment to the plan.”

“Oh?” I tried to sound calm.

“A man cannot put a child in a woman’s belly, willing as she may be, if he does not desire her,” Mac Dara said. “Have you observed a stallion or a ram when the females are in heat? His member stands up with excitement; his body readies itself for the fray in dramatic style. It is just the same with men, though I see from your blushes that you are not accustomed to hear such matters discussed so openly. And yet, here you are asking to share my son’s bed tonight. Aren’t you afraid, maidenly little thing that you are? Are you sure you’re not lying to me?” The edge in his voice was dangerous.

I cleared my throat. “Of course I’m nervous. I’ve never lain with a man before. But I want to do it. Tonight. If I cannot take Cathal home with me, I will not stay here any longer than I must.”

“You missed the point,” said Mac Dara flatly. “He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want anyone. Don’t you think I’ve tried, offering him woman after woman over the months he’s been here? Don’t you think I’ve done whatever I could to break through that wall of reserve? I provided him with a girl fashioned in your exact likeness. Cathal was as indifferent to her as he was to all the rest. And it’s not as if you are an expert in the art of seduction. The unpalatable truth is that my son’s just not up to it. If you’re after a child of your own, you’d be better to let me give you one.”

He must surely see me shaking; he must surely hear the terror in my voice. “It is Cathal’s child I want,” I said. “As for his capacity to . . . perform . . . I will deal with that when we are alone together. I wish to have this time undisturbed. And unobserved. A woman does not want others to spy on her intimate moments.”

Mac Dara’s brows shot up. In that moment he looked painfully like his son. “Oh, you set conditions?” he drawled. “Then I will make my own absolutely clear. On his seventh birthday your son is mine. You give him up to me willingly.”

My heart was pounding. Finding the right words was like teetering along a thread.
You must not make him promises you intend to break,
Ciarán had said.
He would destroy you.
“If I conceive a son from tonight’s encounter,” I said, “then I will give him to you when he is seven. I promise.” If the Fair Folk could not understand selfless love, then Mac Dara would never dream of the possibility that Cathal might be willing, able and enthusiastic, and might still be prepared to restrain himself for the sake of our future together. I was counting on that. My belly twisted tight with apprehension. If I was wrong, there was everything to lose.

“Tonight’s encounter or tomorrow night’s,” Mac Dara said, sharp as a knife. “Because that is the other condition. If my son can’t perform, if he’s incapable of bedding you tonight, then I have you tomorrow. That way you get two chances of a child. The bargain’s not ungenerous. If it’s a girl, as so many of my progeny have been, you’ll get your daughter to keep with no conditions at all. If you don’t conceive, you can go home and put all this behind you. You won’t be pristine on your wedding night, but it seems that doesn’t bother you.” His lips twisted in a smile that was the twin of Cathal’s at its most sardonic.

I drew a deep, shaky breath. “I agree to your terms if you agree to mine,” I said. If this went wrong, if I were forced to lie with this hideous man, my life and Cathal’s would be forever blighted by it. If it went as I planned, I promised myself I would never, ever take risks again. I would devote myself to a life of mending my husband’s shirts and cooking him nourishing soups. “You’re to leave us alone tonight,” I reminded him. “No spying. No scrying. No coming in the door. This is just the same as a wedding night and it’s private.”

He laughed. “I fear you will find it a deep disappointment. But we’ll make up for it tomorrow night, I promise. As for the spying issue, I won’t peep. I doubt there will be much worth seeing.”

“I want your word on it. And that I will be allowed to return home safely afterward.”

He looked astonished, as if it were remarkable that there existed in the world someone who might believe his word was a thing worth having. “I give you my word, then,” he said. “No spying. But I’ll have to leave the guards on the door. I don’t trust anyone, not even those who seem too weak to be a threat. As for the other, I’m willing to spend a night with you to get a child, but I can’t think of any reason why I would want to keep you. Shall we go?”

He led me out of the pavilion. It was quite dark now, a moonless night, and the sward where Mac Dara’s people had been gathered not long ago was completely deserted. A chill breeze sent dead leaves tumbling across the withered grass. I wondered if the glittering company had moved elsewhere once it became clear that their lord did not intend to entertain them tonight. Or maybe time was playing tricks again, and hours had passed while I was pleading my case. I was glad that I need not endure those people’s uncomfortable stares. I felt transparent, with such a tumult of feelings inside me that they must be plainly visible. Mac Dara must know that I planned to trick him. How could he not? Was I walking straight into a trap? Somehow it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that in a short time I would see Cathal again.

We did not walk far. Mac Dara took the lantern that hung outside his hall and carried it as we made our way across the circle, out between the white stones and along a crooked path between thornbushes. I glanced surreptitiously to left and right, back over my shoulder, up into the dark shadows of the trees, wondering if Fiacha would make an appearance and whether Mac Dara might find the bird in any way suspicious.
There is no enemy with the power to stand against me
, the Lord of the Oak had said. And Ciarán had said,
There is a time for everything, and now is not the time for me to do battle with Mac Dara.

“Here.” Mac Dara halted so abruptly that I walked into him. He put out a hand to steady me and I forced myself not to shrink away.

“Where?” I said, looking around me and seeing nothing that resembled a dwelling or shelter.

The Lord of the Oak pointed ahead. The path skirted a rock wall grown over with briars. In a curve of this wall the lantern light revealed a darker space: the entry to a cave. Something moved. I started, gasping with fright. A hooded figure stepped out of the shadows; a spear gleamed in a gauntleted hand. “All’s quiet, my lord,” a man’s voice said.

“She can go in,” said Mac Dara. “Don’t disturb them before morning. Alert me if there’s any trouble.”

“Yes, my lord.” The man retreated. I could see now that another, similarly clad, stood to the far side of the entry.

“You keep your own son under armed guard?” I asked. “What are you afraid of?”

“You’re wasting time,” Mac Dara said. “If you want what you came for, you’ll need to start working on him straightaway. Go in.”

“Remember what I said. No spying.” Gods, I could not stop shaking. Cathal was in there, so close. My heart was ready to leap out of my breast.

“Do you doubt Mac Dara’s word?” He sounded as if he was smiling. A moment later he turned on his heel and was gone, taking the lantern with him.

My eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness. After a little, I discerned a faint, flickering light coming from within the cavern. Ignoring the guards, I put my hand against the wall to guide me and edged through the opening.

A candle burned on a rock shelf not far inside, and another on a small table. Their fitful light illuminated a space that resembled more closely the cell of a druid or scholar than the habitation of a prince, or indeed a place of confinement. The shelf bed was narrow and looked hard; a blanket lay at its foot, folded with perfect precision. There was no hearth and the place was cold. A stone table had a stool set before it. Cathal was sitting there, his back to me, a parchment spread out before him, a quill and ink pot on the table to his right. He was clad in black, just like his father. “Go away,” he said without turning.

“Cathal.” My voice came out as a nervous croak. “Cathal, I’m here.” Part of me longed to rush forward and throw my arms around him. A wiser part held me where I was.

For the space of a breath he went completely still. He might have been turned to stone. Then he said, “A pox on my father. Can’t he think of something new? I said go. I don’t want you.” He could have been the Cathal of early spring, the one whose cruelly dismissive comments had so irked me.