Chapter Thirteen
“My word given in loyalty shall always remain. If I break the promise, it’s because you have leveled the blade against my heart.”
~Chronicles of Liam MacGregor
The crowd parted in hushed tones as Liam and Abela entered the clearing keeping a close pace behind O’Malley. Caravans and tents were sprawled out in a circular fashion with their leader’s wagon tucked under a huge pine tree.
Their reaction to Abela was disturbing. Some actually dipped a curtsy, especially the young children. Had they sensed her true identity? Or were they enchanted by her beauty? What was he thinking bringing a Fae female amongst these people? Abela was stunning, even in her simple garments. Even though Liam towered over these people, he realized many had never seen a woman of her height.
But he could not have left her wandering the countryside by herself. Nor would she allow Liam to be separated from her. I should have waited until you had rested and attempted to travel through the Veil of Ages. This is madness being here.
Stealing a glance at her, he saw she was smiling. One of the wee girls had dashed out to present Abela with a bunch of foxgloves. The princess gracefully bent down and accepted the gift. Murmuring soft words of appreciation, she stood and continued walking alongside him.
He reached out and touched one of the flowers. “They mirror the lovely shade of your eyes.”
Abela looked stunned at his comment. “Thank you.”
Did she not understand he spoke the truth? He gently moved her away from the crowd and to the wagon belonging to O’Malley.
As they entered the wagon, another woman approached and gestured for Abela to take a place on a bench away from the men. O’Malley was speaking quietly to two other men—one his brother, Malcolm, and the other his strongest guard, Adam MacDonald.
“It is their custom that the women are not involved with the politics of the men,” Liam uttered softly.
“Of course. I shall observe from a distance,” she reassured him.
He brushed a kiss along her cheek and drew back. Her lips parted in invitation, and Liam quickly averted his gaze. This is only a ruse, Abela. Yet, he deemed the statement was more for his well-being and not hers.
“I have been working on a batch of wine for the Midsummer. Would ye care to sample a cup?” asked O’Malley as he settled himself along the cushioned bench.
“Definitely,” Liam acknowledged, taking a seat across from the man.
“Midsummer?” Abela blurted out, clutching a hand to her chest.
Her outburst brought the light conversation to a halt.
“Surely ye were aware of the season,” declared O’Malley, handing Liam a cup of wine, though his gaze was leveled on Abela.
“Our travels have been many, and my beloved lost track of the seasons,” stated Liam, giving her a reassuring grin. By the hounds! How could he have misplaced the season? It was one of the primary ones for the Fae and the priestesses.
Abela placed her hands in her lap. “You are correct, Liam. When you are done, I shall require time alone.”
Giving her a curt nod, he reined in the questions he longed to toss out at her. Returning his attention to O’Malley, he asked, “How soon to Midsummer?”
The man’s mouth twitched in humor. “Three days. I assume ye will want to take your leave before then to return for your own celebrations.”
“Indeed.”
O’Malley took a sip from his cup. “What do ye seek, MacGregor?”
Good. I have no time for small talk. “I require your Treaty of Feahan. I am preparing an amendment in regards to traveling through the Veil of Ages.”
The man drained his cup and placed it on the table. His gaze was sharp and assessing. Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned back. “Am I the first ye have visited?”
“No.” Liam surveyed him over the rim of his cup.
“Second?”
“Last.”
He dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “This conversation is for my ancestor, Niall.”
Liam brought the cup to his mouth, letting the wine brush against his lips. The tart fruit teased him to take more, but he set the cup on the table. “I am unable to talk with him at this time. Niall is on another path in regard to religion. I have no wish to descend at a time when he might consider us heathen individuals.”
O’Malley shrugged. “Then find the right year. Ye should not be asking this request from me.”
Liam placed his hands on the wooden table. “Time is critical. I seek to bring justice for another—”
“Fae?” interrupted O’Malley. “I am not interested in your affairs.”
Technically, Aidan Kerrigan was mortal. “It is for both human and Fae,” he countered.
“I find this amusing.” Refilling his cup, O’Malley swirled the contents. “Ye and your brother were so arrogant. Now ye come here making demands.”
“No. A simple request. Ye can either help us or not. This is your choice.”
O’Malley pounded his fist onto the table. “Nothing is simple with the Fae.”
“Might I remind you of the times we have assisted you and your people?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Have ye come for payment of your deeds?”
Liam pushed the cup away. “On the contrary, I am asking for aid in this matter.”
Adam leaned near the man and whispered into O’Malley’s ear. Though the man showed no signs of relenting, a smile curved his features. He gave Adam a curt nod. “These are difficult times for my people. Are ye willing to barter for the treaty?”
Liam glanced around, noting the lush interior and heartiness of the people he had witnessed. The man was one of the richest travelers in this part of the country, and he found their host's statement contrary to what he witnessed. “I have nothing of value on me.”
O’Malley pointed to his sword. “I will accept the blade at your waist in exchange for the treaty.”
Abela stood abruptly. “Will you consider my dirk?”
“I admire a woman who can wield a blade,” remarked O’Malley. He lifted his hand. “May I?”
She stepped forward and handed him the weapon. Liam clenched his fists at his side, trying to retain his composure. Did she not comprehend his instructions to remain silent?
The blade was stunning in its craftsmanship. Silver and etched with Celtic knots and symbols. Liam would have preferred handing the man her smaller sgian dubh blade.
O’Malley gestured for her to sit, and Abela took a seat next to Liam. “Is there magic forged within the metal.”
She smiled charmingly. “Magic can only be found in the land, air, sea, and fire.”
He brushed his fingers over the engravings. “However, it was made in your realm, correct?”
“Yes.”
Liam gritted his teeth and snatched the dirk from the man’s hands. “I will bring you another when I return with the treaty.”
“But I have not granted ye the treaty, yet.”
“Those are my terms. A gift from my home in exchange for the document.” Liam glared at the man, daring him to challenge his offer.
O’Malley shook his head. “No. I want the blade belonging to your woman.”
Abela touched Liam’s arm. “It is of no personal value to me. I would be honored to let him have the dirk.”
Her grip told him otherwise. You lie, Abela, and we are in a dilemma. “If my beloved has consented, then I have no objections.”
“Excellent.” Retrieving the dirk, he tucked the blade within his belt at his side. “You will have the treaty in a couple days.”
“Unacceptable,” Liam protested. “If you are not willing to hand over the document now, we shall leave.” He held out his hand. “The dirk, please.”
Chuckling softly, O’Malley withdrew the blade and handed it back to Liam. “The document is not here. My younger brother, Peter, has it in his possession. If ye recall, he is the scholar within our clan. He arrives the day after next, Midsummer’s Eve. Business in the south prevented him from joining us.”
The man’s iron will held firmly around Liam. All he required was the bloody document. Two days…two more days. He stood slowly. “Then we shall spend the night. Would you have an empty caravan for Abela?”
She clasped her hands together. “I have no objection to sleeping—”
Liam glanced sharply at her. “Preferably a wagon away from the others.” He had no intention of having her sleep under the trees.
“I will have one of my women make the arrangements.” O’Malley stood and motioned to the woman sitting on the far bench. “I believe the birthing wagon will not be needed for some time, correct?”
“Aye,” conceded the woman.
O’Malley pointed to Malcolm. “Take two men and move the wagon away from the others.”
His brother grunted his acknowledgment and left the wagon.
Liam rose from his place. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
The man broke into a leisurely smile. “Ye have honored my clan by accepting an invitation to stay with us. I am quite certain the bard will tell the tale of how two Fae dined with us.” He wandered over to Abela and took her hand. Placing a kiss along her knuckles, he stated, “Please join us later at the campfires.”
Liam noted the hesitancy on her features and wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “It will be our pleasure,” he affirmed.
O’Malley released her hand and gestured for them to step outside. “The wagon is being placed south, near the river. I give ye my word, no one will bother ye.”
“Thank you,” stated Abela and quickly added, “You have been generous.”
He winked. “Always to the Fae.”
Liam watched him cross to a group of men gathered around one of the fires. He tugged on Abela’s hand. “Let us move away from the camp.”
She made no sound as he ducked under some branches. Liam continued to move them along a narrow path toward the river. Not once did he release his hold on her. The area curved, and they descended through the trees, revealing the river below. He wasted no time in moving her toward a smooth boulder.
Letting out a sigh, he raked a hand through his hair. He had no concept how the priestesses prepared for the feast day. “What do you require for Midsummer? Can I take you somewhere?”
She sat, mesmerized by the water below them. Her silence bothered him, and he knelt in front of her. “Speak to me.”
Her eyes were filled with sadness when she looked at him. “I should have prepared a week ago.” Abela wiped a hand across her brow.
Confused by her demeanor, he grasped her hand. “But we were enjoying spring, not summer. Jumping through the Veil multiple times is difficult for Fenian Warriors, so I can’t imagine what it would be like for someone who has not had the proper training.”
She withdrew her hand from his. “You cannot fathom why I’m upset. I have trained for decades to sense even the tiniest whisper of the feast day.”
“Your focus has been on other things,” he countered.
“Again, you did not hear me. We trained and honed our keen insights against distractions. The exercises were intense, often without rest for weeks. We had to always be one with the land, regardless of what was happening around us.” Her voice rose. “This was a test, and I have failed. You cannot begin to understand, just as I am unable to comprehend your own training.”
Liam was plagued with guilt. He should have never agreed to venture out of his prison. His life was ruined, but now hers was as well. “I should have banished you the moment you stepped forth from the shadows inside my cell.” He shook his head in remorse and turned away.
Abela gently touched his face. “No regrets, Liam MacGregor. This path has already been woven.”
Slowly, he returned his gaze to hers. “Was my life so important to you?”
“It has always been thus,” she whispered. “I am truly sorry I sent you away so many moons ago.”
Lifting her hand, Liam placed a kiss on her palm. “I am, too. Yet, it is done. Over.” He stood, bringing her to her feet. “What can I do for you?”
She leaned against him and looked outward. “With Midsummer approaching, I will be weaker. The veils between the realms will be thin, so I have no wish to draw attention by moving through the land. We celebrated by feasting, dancing, and planting more seeds for rebirth in the land.”
“Understood.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he added, “The traveler’s camp is the perfect spot to remain hidden. I pray O’Malley’s brother arrives before dusk on Midsummer’s Eve. If you’d like, we can venture farther away from the camp near the river. It will provide you with more tranquility for meditation.”
Abela chuckled softly. Placing a kiss on his cheek, she moved out of his embrace. “I think it best if we are separated and wise to return on Midsummer’s Eve.”
He arched a brow in challenge. “Do you not trust me?”
She gaped at him. “At this time of the season? No. The song of the land is powerful and difficult to resist.”
“You forget. I am a trained Fenian Warrior, skilled in fighting the alluring temptation of sexual pleasures during this time.”
“So the Gardens were used upon your return for your…release?” Her tone implied teasing.
Liam placed a fist over his heart. “I am here to protect and guard you.”
“Yet, can I trust myself around you? I am new to being outside of the realm of security.”
Her question startled him. Desire bolted through him, and he turned away from the intensity of her stare. With one look, she had stripped away the warrior, and now the man ached to possess the woman. Liam glanced over his shoulder. “If I must, I’ll chain you to the wagon.”
“Sounds enticing,” she purred, and strolled down to the river.
He gaped at her in utter dismay. One moment, she was sorrowful and in agony. The next, a tempting vixen, inciting a riot between his body and mind. “I must be the stronger one,” he muttered.
Shaking his head to rid his lustful thoughts of the woman, he followed her down to the water. By the time he approached the bank of the river, O’Malley’s men had maneuvered the wagon to a cluster of trees not far from the bank. Their horses had been tethered to a nearby tree and Abela went to free them, leading them toward refreshment.
She lifted her arms and stretched. “I have no problem sleeping under the stars.”
Settling his body against a tree, Liam studied her. “You and I both know the wagon is better suited for your needs, especially so close to other humans.”
Shrugging, Abela glanced up at the first star of the evening. “Do you believe the ancients are angry with us?”
“The dragon guardians are wary. I sense their watchful presence. If we had disrupted anything, I am certain a blow would have been delivered.”
“Disrupted, as in the timeline?”
“No. What you did in freeing me.”
She nodded in understanding and pointed upward. “A crime within the realm, but maybe they comprehend.”
Liam fingered Abela’s dirk at his waist. Retrieving the blade, he examined the etchings in the fading light. “Who gave you the dirk?”
Her faint smile held a touch of sadness as she walked toward him. She held out her hand. “May I?”
Handing the blade to her, he waited.
Abela traced a finger over the symbols. “Aidan gave it to me on our last day of training together. It was a parting gift for being a worthy student. He forged the steel from the waters by his home.”
He patted the ground next to him. “Tell me more.”
She hesitated, uncertainty shown within her gaze.
“I promise not to touch you,” he affirmed.
“I envy your training,” she uttered softly, taking a seat next to him.
“Don’t, Abela. You were destined to become one with the land. I pray you will be able to continue once we return. Whereas, I am hardened by decades of training and can silence the call within me.” He pointed to the dirk. “Continue.”
“Ever since he presented me with the dirk, I have carried it with me. The priestesses saw no objection when I entered the temple, carrying the blade at my side. It was the sole item I possessed and regarded it more deeply after he left our world. Not only was Aidan a great warrior and leader, but he was my uncle. When the news of his death reached the kingdom, I wept for days near the waterfall that leads to Tir na Og.”
An ache of remembrance stabbed at his heart. “We all did on that day. Conn refused to acknowledge him as an uncle, preferring to see him as the great Fenian Warrior.”
“So sad,” she whispered.
“No, Abela. It was out of a high regard for Aidan. In truth, Conn had no desire to seek favors due to his blood lineage. I witnessed many conversations between the two.”
“My brother is always in control.”
For a moment, Liam longed to ask more about Conn, but recalled his vow. In due time, he would come upon the knowledge. “Did you know I was there when Aileen scattered his ashes in the waters of Loch Ness in Scotland?”
Her eyes were misted with unshed tears. “No.”
“All the Fenian Warriors arrived to pay tribute to him. I will never forget the scene.” He placed a hand over hers. “We are not going to turn over this dirk to O’Malley.”
She scowled and removed her hand. “A bargain was struck.”
“I will offer another gift. Give me your sgian dubh.”
“Like this is going to pacify the man,” she scoffed, removing the smaller blade.
“Ahh…but look how it glows.” He tapped a finger against the hilt, turning the wood to silver.
“Impressive, but not as big. In my short time among the males, I’m guessing they like their blades huge and decorative.”
Liam stared at her. Even in the faint light, her cheeks started to turn a rosy glow as she caressed the length of the blade. Images of her hands on his body ripped through him. Stirrings of lust shot through his blood, and the land urged him to take her upon the ground, swift and claiming.
Standing abruptly, he shook while trying to bring his emotions under control. He had to move away from her and clear his mind. “Try and get some rest.”
He had only taken two steps when her voice drifted by him. “Rest comes to those who don’t understand what we feel.”
Liam kept walking and the more his steps carried him away from Abela, the more he ached to possess her.
Body and soul.