Susan King - [Celtic Nights 03] (9 page)

She pouted. "Where are you going?"

He touched her cheek, did his best to smile. "Home. I wish you well." He kissed her like a fond brother. She stared at him, then nodded slowly.

"I knew it would come. You carry your home like a fire in your heart, and so you were bound to go back. Luck to you, then." She turned away with a stiff smile.

He watched her, struck by the truth in her words. Home was indeed a fire in his heart—and home was Eva, for good or ill.

He had to return, no matter what would come of it.

He stepped out into the cold snap of the evening.

Chapter 5

Mist swirled over the water, and the dawn quiet seemed like a blessing. As Eva waited for Alpin on the lochside beach below the smithy property, she shivered in the early chill. Wrapping her arms around herself, she remembered, as she too often did, Lachlann's warm, strong embrace. That long-ago night seemed like a cherished dream that would never come true.

Through the fog, she could see the isle of Innisfarna, with its grove of trees and its massive castle at opposite ends. She had not set foot inside Innisfarna Castle for a long while, and she missed her home so much that it hurt.

Through Mairi MacKerron's generous hospitality, Eva lived in the smith's house now. At night she slept in Lachlann's own bed, curled on his heather-stuffed mattress. Her dreams—poignant sequences of yearning, passion, and gentleness—were filled with him.

Although Eva had cooperated with the garrison that had taken over the castle, remaining in her own home had proved difficult. Acting as chatelaine, she had supervised new and unfamiliar servants to oversee the demands of a huge household, while struggling with her dislike of the situation.

Late one night, after soldiers had knocked and pleaded and snickered at her bedchamber door—not for the first time, despite the garrison leader's sincere attempt to keep her safe—she had packed her belongings, tucked Grainne into a basket, and asked Alpin to take her over the water to seek sanctuary with Mairi MacKerron.

Now her visits to the island were clandestine. Often she met Alpin before dawn; concerned for her safety, he had offered to teach her how to defend herself, and a few instructions had developed into regular lessons in swordplay. Eva looked forward lately to the practice sessions, welcoming the challenges and finding enjoyment and relief from tedium and frustration.

Most mornings, soldiers crossed the loch in two or three boats to tend the horses in the stable and to ride out on patrols to look for rebels—including her brother Simon and their kinsmen. Only Eva and Alpin knew where the MacArthur rebels hid in the hills above the loch, and both of them had been sworn to secrecy.

Hearing the splash of oars, she soon saw the boat glide through the fog. Alpin stilled the craft on the beach so that Eva could climb inside, and then he rowed back toward the island.

"Today," Alpin murmured, "we will work on high strokes. Stay down until we reach the far side of the island so that you will not be seen." Complying, she drew her plaid over her dark, braided hair. For the swording lessons, she usually wore an old belted plaid and shirt borrowed from Mairi's storage chest; she enjoyed the freedom, comfort, and disguise offered by the male garments.

Rounding the island, Alpin drew the boat into a cove fringed by alder and pine trees. Eva leaped out while Alpin secured the rope, and both walked into the cover of the trees. When he handed her a wooden practice sword, taking one into his own hands, she adopted a ready stance and waited for the first strike. She countered it with confidence, earning his murmured praise.

Their practice was demanding as usual, leaving her breathing hard and wiping her misted brow. Soon the sun crested the hills and began to burn off the fog, and she knew the soldiers would venture out of the castle, as was their established habit. Eva followed Alpin to his little house on the banks of the loch below the castle to accept a cup of cool, watered ale and some breakfast.

"I cannot stay long today," she told him. "Margaret and her husband, Angus, have a new child, and I promised to help them this week. Their little girl just turned two, and she does not much like her new brother." She smiled.

He nodded. "I will take you over the water," he said. "But first I want to talk to you. Come into the garden." He opened the door.

Eva walked with him around the house, where rosebushes grew on the grassy shore that sloped toward the loch. She moved toward the lush, lovely tangle of vines and blooms, inhaling the soft fragrances.

The rose garden had belonged to Alpin's wife, who had died a few years earlier. Alpin claimed he had no time to dig up the rosebushes to plant onions and carrots, as he said ought to be done; he complained that he was too busy ferrying soldiers across the loch and could not learn flower gardening.

Yet the roses grew profusely, and Eva suspected Alpin encouraged them. She loved the haven provided by the rose garden, with its graceful shapes, heavenly fragrance, and delicate hues reflected in the calm loch.

"Look at this one," Alpin said, pulling a fat rose toward her. "It opened yesterday."

The large, soft flower filled her palm, colored pale salmon pink. "Alpin, it is beautiful! I have never seen a rose like it! And so late in the season—will there be more like it?" She leaned forward to sniff it.

"How do I know? They grow, and I cut them back, and they grow some more. They are a nuisance." But his gaze when he looked around him was serene.

She smiled. "What did you want to tell me?"

"I heard the soldiers say that Green Colin will soon return from France. They say he intends to petition the king for full ownership of this island. Eva, we must prevent him from taking Innisfarna—even if we cannot prevent him from marrying you."

She felt her heart tumble with dread, and she inhaled the scent of the flower again, as if its sweetness were a remedy. "We are legally betrothed, and that is near as binding as a marriage. I refuse to give up the island, and I told Colin so before he left. If I must appeal to the king myself to retain it, I will. My claim is a hereditary right, with no tie to the MacArthurs. I hope the king will respect such an ancient tradition."

"Not everyone is as honorable as you are, Eva, and we already know how dishonorable our king can be. This isle must remain in your keeping, or there may be dire consequences for all of Scotland, according to the legend. Now that you are no longer living on the isle yourself, your claim is weakened."

She frowned. "I am doing what I think best. Colin sent me a letter last year saying that he had requested the return of my clan's rights and my brother's pardon. He is keeping his promise to me. The pardon may even be accomplished by now." She tried to smile. "We will find out soon."

"Bah. Green Colin serves himself, not you and your clan! You have heard little from him in all this time. Both Simon and I want you to break that betrothal and let the rebels take their chances. Do not sacrifice your happiness."

She shook her head. "I gave my promise in exchange for his help," she murmured. "I will honor it." She had never told anyone about Colin's threat to have Donal killed and Simon hunted down if she did not go through with the marriage. Aware of the risks that her marriage might hold, she still hoped to keep her kinsmen safe. She did not look at Alpin as she fingered the rose petals.

"Tcha,"
he said. "Stubborn girl. You do not want this. Where is the bold Eva I once knew, eh? What does she want?"

"I want what is best for my clan, and Innisfarna. What more could I want?" Once there had been more, but now her true desires emerged only in dreams, where she shared her misty, lovely island home with a dark-haired man who ruled fire and made iron yield to his will, and whose deep, tender embraces made her yearn for far more than dreams. She sighed.

"There is something you can do," Alpin said. "You were named for the valiant and beautiful Aeife, who defended this island long ago. Do what she did. Fight for Innisfarna. I have been training you for it," he added, giving her an odd glance.

Eva stared at him. "Fight? You taught me how to use a weapon to defend myself, but I am no warrior!"

"Listen to me." He pointed to the loch. "The Sword of Light lies in those waters, guarding the doorway to the faery world. Only you and I truly understand its importance. This isle must never leave the safekeeping of Aeife's female line. Look what has happened since the peace of this place was disturbed. Garrisoning, forfeiture—and the loss of twenty Highland chiefs, including your father."

"Alpin, that is not the legend come to bear!"

"Is it not? Legends are powerful mysteries. If Innisfarna is threatened, the Sword of Light is not safe, and neither is Scotland. You must fight, as Aeife did," he urged. "I saw this coming, and so I have prepared you."

She stared at him. "Why did you not tell me this earlier?"

"You would have refused. For all your boldness, you never liked to fight with the boys, nor did you like to hear about that part of your island's legend. But now that you have the skills, we will find the warrior in you," he confided, grinning.

"Alpin, it is just a tale! You cannot expect me—"

"What are legends but pure truths? This one teaches courage and righteousness. We must heed it, or lose all."

"I cannot go against a garrison. I have no army, no weapons—and no desire to fight!"

"Look at this." Alpin pulled the fat pink bloom forward again. "Tell me the secret of the rose."

"The secret?" She frowned, confused.

"It is beautiful. Take it. Go on."

She reached out, wincing as the thorns stung her thumb. She let go, sucking on the wound, watching Alpin.

He nodded. "The rose defends itself, and you will do the same. You are a strong and nimble girl, with a bold heart. Put that to use. You have much potential, and some skill already. And of course you have an excellent tutor." He winked.

She stared at him. "You sly old warrior."

"I am that, Aeife," he said, using the old, breathy pronunciation of her name:
Eh-fah.

She regarded him thoughtfully, remembering the stories she had heard of his prowess as a warrior before her birth, before he had become their ferryman. He had instructed her brothers and other boys, including Lachlann, in swordplay, and now she understood the extent of his willingness to teach her. "I will not act out this legend for you," she said firmly.

"We will discuss this later," he said. He plucked two fat pink roses from another bush as he spoke. The thorns did not seem to bother him. "For now, you have enough to think about. Here, take these to Mairi MacKerron. She will like them, even if they come from the old ferryman."

He led her the short way to his boat, and Eva sat clutching the flowers while he rowed her across the dawn-bright water. Her thoughts tumbled and sparked, but she stayed silent, finally stepping out of the boat onto the white beach.

"We will continue to practice on Innisfarna's soil," Alpin told her. "The isle gives you strength and will. Come to the loch at dawn tomorrow, and I will show you how to use a longsword. It is time you fought with steel, not wood."

She regarded him in silence, unsure of her feelings.

"Girl," Alpin said, "you do not feel the urge to fight now, but you will. When Colin tries to take your isle, it will spark in you like fire. I know you, Aeife. You will not hold back your courage when that day comes. You will do what must be done. And I intend to prepare you for it." He pulled at the oars and moved out into the loch.

As she walked up the long bank toward the smith's house, she knew that Alpin was right. She must defend Innisfarna somehow, and so it was fitting that she learn to be a warrior like the valiant and proud Aeife. Though she lacked faery magic and a warrior's heart, someday she might have to fulfill a legend.

And she must find some way to see it through.

Chapter 6