Irish Moon (8 page)

He answered soon after her first knock and
looked disheveled but alert. “What is it?” Urgency rang in his
words.

“It’s Heremon, my lord. He has fallen. Please
dress quickly. We must retrieve him.” She couldn’t meet his eyes
and her hushed words felt inadequate.

“Fallen. Fallen where?”

“He no longer lives, my lord.” The tears
stung before they fell. She tried to stop them and couldn’t. “The
cliffs. He’s fallen from the Slieve League. Near his home. We must
retrieve him.” She wiped the tears and met his gaze.

Niall closed the door hard. Dumbfounded,
Breanne reached her fist up to knock again when the door flew open.
Niall exited, fully dressed and motioned her to follow. “You saw
him fall?” With surprising efficiency, he had four men ready and
waiting within moments of her first knock.

She shook her head. “I found him. I thought I
heard something and found him on a small outcrop some twenty feet
below the edge.” She stuck to his queries, grateful to save
explanations of why she’d been there for later.

“Where in proximity of his
home did you see him, Breanne?” He tightened
his
sword belt and tucked his mantle
as he spoke.

She understood that they weren’t taking her
with them and explained in as much detail as she could where he
lay. She bit back the sobs that threatened her composure. He needed
her calm, not blubbering with emotion.

The five armed men left into the night air
with the remaining household undisturbed. The quiet was unsettling.
Breanne sat on the bottom stair where Niall had left her with a
dogged nod.

She hugged her knees close and rested her
chin on them. Finally free to do so, she exhaled and let the sorrow
come. Her world felt inside out, backward. This pain in her chest
that radiated from her heart wasn’t foreign. It was familiar
despite the years of healing and burying she’d done. She had known
this loss before and every fiber of her recognized it.

Life is change, she reminded herself but it
didn’t help dry her tears. She liked her life. It had become steady
and simple again after her father’s death and all the change it
produced.

She and Ula had left their home and joined
the O’Donnell chieftain in his. Being an only child, Sean O’Donnell
left no brothers to care for his family. Niall took them in both as
Sean’s cousin and as the man he’d served and died for.

For ten years, that home sat empty aside from
the caretaker Niall assigned to it. With her mother marrying, the
home became solely her inheritance. An only child herself she had
no brother to share it with nor a sister to split the estate into
suitable portions for each to take with her own marriage. Only her,
only her marriage.

She wondered what it would be like to return
to it after so many years. Would it hurt? Would it feel like a
different place entirely after so long? Soon she would know, unless
she chose a man with property of his own and they chose to rent or
sell the manor.

“Breanne, why are you crying?” The softly
whispered words startled her, though she knew immediately who asked
them.

“Danny. Did I wake you?”

“Nah. I can hardly sleep is all. Are ye all
right?” He came down the stairs to sit next to her. His rumpled
hair and bedclothes made her smile.

“Aye, lad. I’ll be perfect now that you’re
here to keep me company.” Breanne wiped her face dry and gave the
boy a warm smile. He rested his head on her shoulder and she hugged
him into the crook of her arm. “Look at how big you’re getting on
me. It feels like yesterday you were in my lap and now I only get
hugs in secret when no one else can see.”

“I’m almost a grown man, Breanne. I can’t
have the other men seeing you and my mum coddling me. They’ll poke
at me ‘til I bleed with it.”

“A man already, Danny?
Here I was hoping you’d wait at least another four or five years
before I lost you to brawling and warring and rutting. Can you not
wait a bit longer?” Breanne meant her words
,
though she said
them
in a playful tone.
Ten years old was too young to be thinking of growing up. She
wanted to see him remain a sweet boy, blushes and all, the little
brother she never had.

“Mayhap a little longer, I suppose,” Danny
told her after a consternate rub on his hairless chin. “But only
when the men are not around. I can’t have you giving me kisses in
front of them.”

“I promise,” Breanne said and bent to give
him one on each dimpled cheek. “But, I’ll miss it dearly.”

“Breanne?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you crying?” Danny’s face flushed
with tender concern.

“A bit of a rough day is all. Now that you’re
here with me, it all seems trifling.”

“Is it because you have to marry?” Danny
fingered the edge of his bedrobe, avoided her gaze.

His directness both refreshed and discomfited
her. Children could be so perfectly honest. “In part, yes. I had
hoped I’d fall in love before I chose a husband. It looks like I
may have to go the other way about it.”

“Like the tale last night? The pretty one
about the fairy princess and the mortal she took to the
Otherworld?” Danny gestured grandly as he spoke, his voice filling
the empty passageway with the music of childish wonder.

Breanne nodded eagerly.
“She took him then? Did she clobber him over the head and drag him
back with her?” Danny chortled with laughter. “Think you
and
I shall go about
it
in
the same
manner, Danny? I’ll need a big club.” Breanne tapped her lips,
pretending to think of where she could find such a thing. Danny
giggled, covering his mouth to hide a snort.

“Ah, Breanne, was he not the best bard you
ever heard in all you life? His words made magick right there
before us all. I swear I saw the princess walk right through the
room,” Danny said, looking for her agreement.

Breanne nodded. It sounded like she’d missed
quite a show and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wish she’d
been there instead. A little pang of jealousy shot through her at
Danny’s praise for the bard. Their words were magickal, held more
real power than the boy guessed. She wished she could say the same
about her own.

“Well, Danny, I best be off to bed. I think
you ought to as well before your father finds us and fines me three
embroidered tunics for keeping you up late. We have a big day ahead
tomorrow, well, I do leastwise, what with finding myself a club and
all.” She didn’t let herself remember what tomorrow really brought,
or of everything that had ended today.

Danny giggled harder, but nodded. He threw
his arms around her, breaking her heart with happiness and love.
Breanne rocked his small frame to and fro in hers.

“I love you, Dan,” she said and kissed his
head.

“I love you, too,” he said with such feeling
that Breanne knew she’d better leave fast or end up crying again on
his shoulder.

Chapter Five

In the light of dawn, Breanne woke with a
single panicked thought: what if he wakes and has no food or
explanation? Will he leave? She yanked the covers from her, the
cool morning air feeling good on her hot skin, and dressed
hurriedly. She had to get back to that cave and the man now, before
Niall placed an inevitable hold on her leaving the grounds without
escort. With a murderer lurking about and no studies for her to be
leaving to, she’d lose her freedom fast.

Finn lay unperturbed at the edge of her bed,
sleeping soundly. Breanne nudged him. He rolled over but didn’t
open his eyes and she knew by the limpness of his body that he
wouldn’t soon be rising. She didn’t doubt he’d finished half the
bottle of wine last night, perhaps more.

No matter. Far better that he stayed. The
less he dealt with the stranger, the less he could interfere and
have her second guessing her actions. Her belly quivered at the
thought of meeting the man alone, by daylight, with him awake. She
blamed hunger and left without preamble for the kitchens.

The scent of bacon roused her stomach as she
entered the busy room. Several freshly baked loafs of grainy bread
cooled on the open window’s ledge. The servants, some fuidir and
others free and part of the feine, spoke and moved with liveliness,
paying her no mind as she filled her satchel with a loaf and choice
meats. News of Heremon’s death must not have reached many ears,
Breanne concluded and was glad she’d woken when she did.

She headed for the same door as last night
but stopped short when Erin Burke’s plump frame blocked her way.
“And where do ye think you’re off to this morning, Miss
O’Donnell?”

Breanne rushed to the first lie her brain
could formulate. “To the Friary. Gannon O’Shannon. My uncle has
invited….”

A loud crash behind of something distinctly
ceramic stole Erin’s attention and Breanne took the chance to slip
past her and sprint down the slope of yard before the old cook
could follow and call after her.

Just past the gate, Breanne stopped to catch
her breath and peek-check for Erin barreling after her. Could Niall
have already warned the staff that she was not to be out alone any
longer? Seeing the coast clear, Breanne continued in a fast walk
down her usual trail with the hood of her evergreen cloak
concealing her blonde strands.

Eating along the way, she skipped her usual
blessings and prayers until she reached her destination. There she
knelt outside of the cave, asked Morrigan for her protection and
sprinkled a few crumbs of bread on the mossy ground. She entered
the cave slowly, her belly fluttering with turns of fear and
excitement.

When she saw him, she stilled. Sunlight
filtered through from both the entrance and a small hole in the
stone ceiling. Breanne looked at the hole in wonder and followed
its path down to rest her gaze on his face. Her breath caught for a
moment. Tiny sparkling dust particles danced in the stream of light
bathing the man’s smooth, whiskered skin.

His strong jaw lay tilted up and his features
were cast in lovely relief in the morning light. His features
appeared so chiseled they could be that of a sculpture. Thick black
eyebrows arched over his heavy, long lashed eyes. Soft black curls
framed his face. His lips were full and soft looking.

Breanne reached her hand out to touch his
cheek and only then realized that she’d walked over and knelt next
to him. It startled her from the distraction seeing him had cast on
her. Her cheeks filled with heat and she thanked the lord and
goddess that no one had witnessed her foolish behavior.

English. Yes, he looked English. Were he
well, the two or three days growth of beard that shadowed his jaw
would be cleanly shaven. Her eyes traveled over the rest of him,
evaluating other signs of his heritage. He was tall yet still broad
shouldered and lean. His chest was bare of any hair and Breanne
wondered what his skin would feel like on her palm.

Her belly flip-flopped and shivered. Again,
she blushed and mentally shook herself. Such thoughts were new to
her. Even her girlish crush on Quinlan hadn’t evoked such
lasciviousness.

She did have to touch him though, to ensure
he remained free of fever. Why not on his chest, a small impish
voice asked? Tentatively, Breanne reached her hand forward to hover
above the outlined of pectoral muscle, where his heart would be.
Would she feel its beat, she wondered, mesmerized by the tingle of
emotion swirling through her?

Slowly, she placed her hand on him. His skin
was warm, not hot but the surge that went through her body was. The
sensation jolted her and she jerked her hand away. No fever. That
is all she needed to verify. She should leave him the food and go.
But she didn’t. She replaced her hand, keeping a watchful eye on
his face for signs of awareness.

He didn’t stir. She pressed her palm slightly
and felt his heart thump steady and strong. It assured the healer
in her but stirred another part. Breanne gradually slid her hand
down his skin, fascinated by the smooth texture and warmth. More
wondrous was the heat his body seemed to send into hers. Not heat
as the sun gives, or fire, for this did not feel at all
uncomfortable. It didn’t warn not to get too close. This heat did
not burn, and yet did somehow.

The man’s skin goose-bumped under her touch
and Breanne jerked back her hand. She tore his eyes from his
sleeping face and focused her attention on placing the satchel and
wineskin in an obvious and close place. Too late, she thought to
include a note warning him not to leave the cave. It was enough
food to last more than a day and she didn’t know when she’d be able
to return.

Worry made her movements hasty and her brow
furrow. She couldn’t tarry much longer or Niall would have a search
party after her and of all her luck it would include Shane
MacSweeney. She rued her lack of forethought but couldn’t see a way
around it. He’d wake no later than tonight, surely. She would
simply find a way to return, explain, and get some explanations, as
well.

The idea made her feel immensely better.
“Until tonight then,” she whispered. Her hushed voice echoed in the
small stone room and the feeling she had of quiet awe when she
entered, returned.

On her walk back, Breanne tried to find the
hole that created the tunnel of light, but gave up as the pressure
of time closed in on her. Within ten minutes, she slipped back
through the gate and remembering her lie, headed in the direction
of the friary. Just in case.

“Breanne O’Donnell,” a man’s voice said.
“You’ve got yourself some explaining to do.”

Breanne’s heart skipped a beat when she
recognized the voice to be her uncle’s. She stopped and faced the
man with her most charming smile to placate the annoyance she heard
in his words. “Uncle Patrick. Good morning to you. Why, I was on my
way to see you just now and here you are.”