The Stag Lord (23 page)

“Watch what Max can do.”

As the boy stepped away to give himself some room, Shay leaned closer. “You suck at lying,” she muttered. “There's no way you would ever use a
weapon
to pry off something. Especially not
that
weapon.” She nodded toward his hip. “What's really going on? And don't take the bullshit route with me.”

Bann started to go down that very path. As Shay's expression, he gave up. “Quinn Tully was here,” he said in an undertone. “He wished to speak with you.”

“What about?”

“I dinna ask.”

“Where is he now?”

“Not here.”

Shay grinned. “You threatened him, didn't you? Got all in his face?”

“Define
threatened
.”

She snapped her fingers. “Damn, and I missed it. I do love a good testosterone-loaded challenge. Two guys trying to prove who's got the biggest pair.”

“You would have been disappointed, then. There was no contest.”

Shay hooted. “I like your style, Bannerman Boru.”

And I like the sound of my name on your lips, Shay Doyle
.

“Daaad.” Cor's voice rose in frustration. “Are you going to watch or not?” He stood with his arm stretched out, the stick parallel to the ground at shoulder height.

Bann and Shay shared a smile. “Go ahead, son.”

Holding the stick still, Cor signaled silently to Max. The dog cocked his head, tail punishing the ground. Grumbling in frustration, Cor gave the signal again.

Hitting full speed after two strides, Max charged across the yard, a blur of black and tan. He cleared the stick with a languid grace, paws tucked and tail a-flying. Skidding to a stop, he whirled around and charged again, this time approaching Cor from the rear, who had dropped the stick and hunched over, hands braced on his bent knees.

To Bann's surprise, the dog sailed over his son's head. He wondered how a dog as massive as that hound could be so light on his paws. Landing with a faint huff, Max spun around, then stopped at Cor's hand motion to
stay
. Tongue lolling out, Max planted his butt on the concrete, panting with contentment in a job well done.

“Cool, huh?” Cor beamed at Bann.

“To say the least. Did you teach him that?”

“Yup!” The boy was almost strutting in place.

Bann's earlier desire for an outing returned. Before he could speak, Shay walked over and bumped fists with Cor.

“I think we need to celebrate,” she declared. “Who's up for ice cream? I know a great place just a few blocks away. Dog-friendly, to boot.”

“Can we, Dad?”

“Yeah, can we?
Dad
?” Shay added, a smirk on her face.

Identical pairs of blue eyes looked up at him.
Do they know they both have me wrapped neatly and unequivocally around their little fingers?
“A grand idea. Shall we take my truck?”

“But then Max won't be able to come,” Cor pointed out.

“He can ride in the bed…” Bann's voice trailed off at Shay's expression.

“And risk him falling out?” Shay looked at him as if she was tempted to put
him
in the back of the truck. “Yeah, I don't think so. We'll take my car.” She snagged Cor before he could bolt for the house. “Hold up a sec, Shorty. You're in charge of Max while we're at the shop. Bring his leash.”

Five minutes later, Shay locked the front door and hurried down the driveway. Bann was waiting by the driver's side. For a moment, she thought he was going to demand that
he
drive the SUV. Instead, he simply opened the door for her. At her word of thanks, he closed it and walked around to the passenger side, scanning the area with practiced movements of head and eyes before he climbed in.

Always on guard
, she thought as she turned on the engine.
Must get old—wish I could take some of the burden off him
. Looking in the rearview mirror, she spoke to Cor sitting in the back with Max beside him. “All set?”

“Yup!” At a pointed throat-clearing from Bann, Cor corrected himself. “I mean, yes, ma'am.” He held up the leash and jangled the hook.

“Sheesh, Bann,” Shay muttered under her breath as she backed down the driveway.

Shifting in his seat in an effort to find another inch of room for his long legs, Bann gazed out the window. “‘Manners maketh man.' My son will be a gentleman.”

“I thought you were raising him to be a warrior.”

“I'm raising him to be both.”

There. Right there. That statement
. That
sums up Bannerman Boru
, Shay thought. She glanced briefly out of the corner of her eye at him, enjoying the view of his profile as they drove out of the cul-de-sac and through the neighborhood. Her gaze slipped down to his mouth.
Nice. Very nice
.

Feeling warm, and not just because of the sunny day, Shay powered down her window, enjoying the breeze of the drop-dead gorgeous autumn day.
While sitting next to a drop-dead gorgeous man
. The sound of Cor laughing as he messed around with Max drifted from the back seat.

For just a moment, the pure bliss of being alive filled her.
Even with all this crap we're dealing with—and we
are
dealing with it—this round world is one hell of a beautiful thing
.

After a few blocks, she turned onto the main thoroughfare of the local retail area. The wide street was lined with brick and wooden buildings from the eighteen-hundreds, most of which had been converted into art galleries, tourist shops, and restaurants. Mature trees shaded the sidewalks, the ground around them littered with leafy reminders of the gold rush days. Finding an empty parking spot a block from the Creamery, she pulled over.

Before Bann could move, she jumped out and trotted around to the curb. Opening the back door, she made sure Cor had Max on the leash, then waved them out. “Okay. Make him stay at heel or he'll trip people.”

With boy and dog leading the way along the midweek-quiet sidewalk, Shay strolled beside Bann, smiling to herself when he stepped around to walk on the outside. She slowed to point out a display of mining tools in an antique shop window. Sepia-tinted photographs of rough miners were shown alongside photos of well-to-do businessmen in frock coats. Bann leaned closer. Their reflections in the window overlapped liked lovers.

A cry from Cor whipped their heads around; Bann's hand went for his knife.

Just ahead, the boy was struggling to restrain Max. Dancing on his hind legs, the dog strained at the end of the leash, whining with eagerness at a tiny dog walking its elderly owner on the other side of the street. Cor hung on, teeth bared and the leash wrapped tightly around both wrists. His feet skidded on the pavement as he was dragged forward by the eighty-plus-pound animal. With an almighty lunge from Max, he lurched forward with a squawk.

“Cor!” The image of the boy being dragged across the asphalt into traffic flashed through Shay's mind.

Before she could even blink, Bann took two long strides and caught Cor around the waist in midair with one arm. The other hand grabbed the leash and yanked Max back on his haunches with a savage tug.

“Down!” Bann roared. “Before I boot yer arse into the middle of next week!” Belly to ground, Max tucked his tail. Holding his son against his hip, feet dangling, Bann freed the lead from around the boy's wrists.

Shay hurried over, alarmed, but mostly amused, at the alpha male demonstration. As she took the leash from Bann, Cor wiggled free of his father's hold.

“Hey! Don't yell at Max!” Hands on hip, Cor squared up to his father, eyes narrowed and jaw thrust forward. “It wasn't his fault—it was mine. I should've made him sit. If you're gonna yell, yell at me.”

Wow. Gutsy
, Shay thought.
Suicidal, but gutsy
. Apparently, Bann thought so, too. A glimmer of respect flickered in his eyes.

“You would defend your friend, eh? Be as a shield wall for him?”

“Y-yes, sir.” The resolution on his boyish face mingled with trepidation. He kept his gaze locked on his father's.

“Even if you would be punished for his misconduct?”

Shay held her breath.
He wouldn't, would he
?

Cor nodded and stiffened, awaiting his sentence. Confusion wrinkled his face when Bann held out a hand. He cautiously took it.

“No. Thus.” The Knight slid his hand down and wrapped his fingers around the boy's forearm, waiting until Cor returned the traditional gesture. They shook. “Proud I am of you, Cormac Boru. Well stood.”

Shay squatted down by Max, pretending to adjust his collar.
Damn. These two are going to steal my heart if I'm not careful
.

A tiny voice in her head whispered.
Who says they haven't already?

20

A
WEEK LATER,
S
HAY
stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hands full with two bags of
sláinte
nettle leaves donated by a grateful patient. She searched in vain for an empty spot on the island to deposit the gift.
Funny, my house didn't seem
this
small when I first moved in
, she thought.

Outside the open window, a ladder and a pair of denim-covered legs blocked the view of the backyard. The sound of Bann and Cor's voices drifted in through the screen along with the warm, dusty-musty scent of a mid-morning autumn day.

“Cor!” Shay shifted her hold on the bags. “Come get your stuff off the island!” A hoodie with frayed cuffs, a half-eaten bowl of Lucky Charms, a map of the trails of the Garden of the Gods, and several books on dog breeds were scattered across the Formica.

“It's not mine,” Cor called from the backyard. “Well, just the books,” he amended.

“The cereal bowl?”

“Okay, that's mine, too.”

“Map?

“Dad's.”

“Hoodie?”

“Yours,” Bann and Cor yelled in unison.

“Oh.” Shay picked it up and looked at it. “So it is.” She tossed it over the back of a chair.

Over the last seven days, she had repeatedly tripped over Cor's shoes, which were always in front of whatever doorway she was walking in or out of. And if it wasn't the boy's shoes, it was Bann's toolbox, which was constantly in use, since he seemed to think it was his duty to reenact every episode of
This Old House
on her home, as well as strengthen her wards. There was the constant buzz of repairs, Cor's voice calling for Max, or Max barking for Cor, and the washing machine going nonstop to keep up with the three of them.

Shay loved it. Loved. It.

Giving up, she emptied the bags on the counter by the sink, pushing aside with her elbow a bundle of dried sage she had meant to store away earlier. While she sorted through the leaves, her fingers on autopilot, she could hear father and son talking as they worked.

“How can wooden sticks stop them from getting inside our home? I mean, Shay's house?” Cor asked.

“They're not just
wooden sticks;
they're staves of ash, blessed through a special ceremony. They're wards, barriers, to stop evil creatures from entering.” A scratching sound, followed by a few blows from a hammer.

“How come I can't let them touch the ground?”

“It renders the magic ineffective. Once the ash touches the earth, it becomes simply a stick. Now hand me that coil of wire. And mind the wards.”

“Do they really work?” Cor asked. “Like against…you know?”

“Aye, to be sure. We are safe inside.” A few more minutes of scraping along the house, a grunt of satisfaction, then Bann climbed down. He paused to speak through the window. “That's the last of them, Shay. Will you come see if they're placed to your satisfaction?”

Shay dusted off her hands and walked outside. Shading her eyes, she peered up at the windows. Knobby sticks, like homemade pool cues, were attached horizontally with wire and nails over the top of each window, matching the ones already over the doors of her home. “Looks great. Thanks for hanging those. And for all the other repairs.” She gazed around. “Is there
anything
you can't fix?”

“Good food,” Cor chimed in as he helped Bann replace the tools.

Bann dropped his hammer in the box with a clang and a scowl. “Why, I beg to differ.”

“I like a man that begs,” Shay said with a grin. “Anything else I should know about him, Cor?”

“He hums when he's in the bathroom taking a—” Cor squawked as his father suddenly lunged for him. Backpedaling away from danger, he added with a laugh, “And he snores!”

“Snores, eh?” Bann began stalking his son, who backed up even farther, giggling like mad. “Why, I'll show you snoring. All I have to do is twist off your nose and store it in my pocket!” He sprang for the boy.

With a squeal of delight, Cor dodged under his father's hand and sprinted toward the side of the house, Max on his heels. The man raced after him, shouting threats that included being given away to the next circus that happened by.