Forsworn Fate (Sisters of Danu)

by Mia Pride

  Nay. She would not disparage herself in this manner. She had much to offer a man. She would not allow Garreth to continually make her the feel at fault for their forced union, or cause her to always question her self-worth. One way or another, she would convince him to marry her or find a way to break this agreement. Ceara could stand to be stuck in the middle no longer.

  PULLING WEEDS IN THE garden was always tedious work, but it kept Ceara’s mind off a certain infuriating lad, or at least it usually did. She had seen Garreth run off with more lassies into more dark corners than she ever cared to remember, so why did the sight of him today with Mary affect her so? Perhaps it was his hurtful words or the way he looked at her with spite in his eyes before he dragged Mary away. Perhaps it was because she had never even once kissed a lad and the sting of that injustice was hard to shake. Every lad in the tuath knew she was promised to Garreth and there were few who would dare try and touch what belonged to the king’s son. No lad had ever tried to kiss her. Perhaps she was, in fact, a toad.

  Then there was her age. She was of an age to marry. Garreth should be done chasing the many young lassies of the tuath by now. It was time he honored the agreement their parents had made. Perhaps they need not marry right away, but could he not court her? Take a little time to know her better? He was five summers older than her and, though they had grown up together and always knew they would marry, Garreth had slowly pulled away from her over the years clearly resenting what she represented to him: responsibility, duty, and, as he described it, imprisonment.

  It rankled that he should think of her in such a foul manner. Ceara yanked another weed out of the ground by the roots and felt a small wave of accomplishment at pulling the entire thing out in one piece. The rain had been heavy this spring and the weeds attacked the garden’s vegetables with an unusual vengeance. She may not be able to control much of her life, but this she could, even if her mind did wander into dangerous territory as she worked.

  What was it like to be Mary? To feel Garreth’s lips on hers, his blonde beard scratching against her skin, his large calloused warrior hands roaming her body? Ceara closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She had to stop thinking such things. It tore her apart to watch her future husband paw another woman. He could have Ceara easily...and quite willingly if she was honest, yet he would choose any other woman instead of her. She should have more pride. But, how could she when the only man she could ever be with swatted her away as if she were a bothersome gnat?

  “There you are mo stór. I have been looking all over for you.” At the familiar, yet not often heard voice, Ceara gasped and dropped the weeds in her hand, spinning on her heels.

  “Doran!” Ceara squealed and, standing on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around the large shoulders of her mother’s dear companion, a man who had come to be more like a father to Ceara than she could have ever expected. “What a surprise! Tis so lovely to see you!”

  “Och, you as well, mo leanbh.” She loved it when he referred to her as his child. She could never be so fortunate as to have a papa as kind and loving as King Doran, but for him to treat her as a daughter meant the world to her. Especially at a time in her life when she needed it most.

  Doran released her from the crushing embrace he always gave her and looked down at her with pure affection in his gaze. He was a good man. Her mama had grown to love him very much over the years as he came to visit on bartering trips. He came as often as he could, which was not very often at all, being king of his own people. But even kings must journey out at times, to protect their people, or in this case, secure alliances and trade with neighboring tribes.

  “Tis always good to see you, Ceara. I miss Gwynneth when I am away, but the two of you are so similar, I feel like I am close to her when I am with you.”

  Ceara smiled at his words. He always told her about his own daughter, Gwynneth, and how very similar they were. She hoped to meet his daughter one day but knew it was unlikely. Gwynneth had recently married a man named Baine and would likely not be traveling anytime soon. “How is Gwynneth?” Ceara asked.

  There was a flicker of something in Doran’s eyes. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought it was regret. Sadness pulled his mouth down at the corners. “I fear I made a mistake in marrying her to Baine. He promised to take good care of my daughter and seems to love her well. But she was in love with another and I kept them apart. I’m not certain she will ever forgive me for it.”

  “Oh, Doran.” Ceara squeezed his arm in reassurance and gave him a sad smile. “You are a good father. I am certain you had your reasons and she will learn to love Baine.” He forced a smile and nodded, but Ceara could tell her words gave him little comfort.

  Ceara’s heart constricted in her chest as she thought about Gwynneth’s unfortunate position. Was Garreth being forced into a marriage with her when he loved another? That could explain his obvious disdain for her. Did Garreth love Mary? Unlikely. He seemed to be with a new woman quite often. But, what if he did? Perhaps this was why he resented her so. Marriage to her may be preventing him from wedding the lass he truly loved. She could never live with herself if she were the cause of pain between two lovers. The thought of Garreth in love with another woman made her feel ill, but not as ill as being the woman who kept them apart would make her.

  She had grown quite fond of Garreth over the years. Knowing they were destined to wed was a strange feeling, and yet, at one point, Garreth seemed to embrace it. When Garreth was a small lad they would laugh and play together often, pretending to be husband and wife. He would defend their imaginary home with his wooden sword while she cuddled her rag doll to her chest, rocking its tightly swaddled linen body in her arms.

  But time passed and, as Garreth turned into more of a man than a lad, the five years of age separating them became a gaping void of differences. He grew taller, stronger, and more handsome by the day. Lassies his age began to take notice and Garreth no longer had time to play with his childish intended wife as he trained to be a warrior. The playful days they had once spent together became lonely days of following Garreth around sadly, hoping he would turn and pay her notice. She was no more than a gangly lass, not quite a woman and not quite a child, while lassies with blooming curves started gaining his attention.

  Her feelings for him had slowly become more than just curiosity and admiration over the years. She yearned for his returned affection. Even as she crossed over into womanhood and grew soft curves of her own, Garreth did not seem to take notice. By then, many years had passed and Garreth was well deserving of his reputation with the other lassies. She had somehow become nothing more than a lingering responsibility to him, a memory of a child he had once known, and nothing more.

  Those years of pining for him and following in his powerful wake had worn down her patience. Ceara considered herself a spirited lass with many companions who thoroughly enjoyed dancing and laughing at nightly gatherings. But, as the other lassies began to marry and have babes of their own, Ceara became lonelier and even more aggravated as Garreth continued to push away from his responsibility to her. Too many nights of sitting alone in the hall while all other men avoided her, knowing she was already spoken for, and Garreth disappearing into the shadows with a new lass, had inflamed her anger.

  Somewhere during the many embarrassingly lonely gatherings over the years, her affection for Garreth had morphed into a resentment of her own, and one he well deserved, unlike the resentment he seemed to harbor for her.

  Their encounters had become increasingly hostile recently, as her pride refused to allow her to simply sit back and be disrespected. She would approach him with good intentions, but it always led to a spiteful exchange of words, shouting, and a more and more frequent agreement that neither wished to marry the other. And, after his cruel words to her this morn, calling himself a prisoner and parading Mary in front of her, Ceara had had enough.

  She was done. Done with being the forlorn lass in his presence while he sent her angry glares and flirt
ed with all the other lassies. She wanted to enjoy herself, be confident in who she was, toad or not. Garreth clearly did not want to marry her and it was weighing her down like rocks tied to her ankles. Enough, indeed. Tonight, she would speak with Garreth and tell him once and for all that she would not marry him. He could have Mary or any other lass he wanted. She was done waiting for him to choose her, and if her mother would not release her from this arrangement, she would release herself. It was time to live. She would forswear their cursed fate.

  “Where is your mother?” Doran’s voice pulled her out of her dark musings and her head snapped up.

  “She is in the village. The ironsmith’s wife just birthed a babe. She should be home soon.” Ceara looked around at all the arriving warriors from Iverni as they dismounted their horses, laughing as they stretched their backs. One warrior openly rubbed his backside and she swore she heard him say something about his “sore arse”. Ceara couldn’t help but laugh. Men could get away with anything in public. That same warrior spotted her staring and sent her a wink.

  Her eyes widened at his obvious display and she felt herself blush. No lads in Coraindt dared wink at her. She had never known if it was for fear of Garreth or because she was a hideous toad, but this warrior from Iverni with his strong jaw covered in a short black beard and his long disheveled hair floating about his face as he removed his bronze helm, looked at her with an intense lust in his blue eyes and she felt herself shiver.

  Doran watched her and the warrior with a frown. “Watch it, Mac Tavish,” Doran pointed at the man in warning before shifting his gaze to Ceara. “I imagine Garreth would not appreciate Aaron’s attentions on you.”

  Ceara growled under her breath at the reminder that she belonged to a man who did not care about her at all. But tonight, all of that would change. It would hurt to break away from Garreth, but not as much as being an unwanted bride did.

  Chapter 2

  THE music in the gathering hall was especially loud. Whenever King Doran and his warriors came to Coraindt for trade, it was always expected that their trade agreements would be celebrated with lots of ale. But today was Lughnasadh, the festival to celebrate the new harvest, so the entire tuath had come out to enjoy the celebration with the warriors of Iverni as their guests.

  Garreth stroked his blonde beard as he looked around the gathering hall for a familiar head of wild red waves. Hannah wiggled on his lap, brushing his shoulder with her ample breasts, clearly unhappy that he had shifted his gaze away from them and focused on the entrance to the hall. With so many warriors crowding the room, it was hard to see beyond his own legs.

  “Garreth?” Hannah whined in his ear and he shifted away from her. He usually found her whining tolerable enough. At least she made up for it in his bed, but tonight, something felt off. His earlier encounter with Ceara had shaken him. He had told her he wanted other lassies before becoming her prisoner. The look on her bonny face when he said those hurtful words haunted him. Her green eyes had enlarged and glistened with unshed tears. He had never truly noticed those small flecks of gold just around the iris of her eye...or the almost invisible freckles dotting her nose. And why did the same lips she had always possessed suddenly tempt him when they pouted in frustration?

  What an arse he was. None of this was her fault. She was but a wee babe on the day his father had agreed to their arranged marriage. He would never forget the day she arrived at Coraindt. He was only a lad of five summers. All he cared about was his desire to train as a warrior one day. He could care not for wee lassies or marriage arrangements. So, when he looked down into her wicker sleeping basket and spotted the red curly-haired babe with bright green eyes staring up at him with a bubble of saliva on her lips, he had only shrugged and gone back to playing with his wooden sword in the field.

  It seemed to ignore Ceara had become a habit of a lifetime for Garreth. As he grew into a man, he was much too rebellious to simply succumb to his fate. Aye, she was a bonny lass, anyone could see that. But he had been but a young man in his prime, surrounded by many other willing lassies. He was five summers older than she, and he could not simply sit by idly and remain chaste while he waited for her to mature. Why pursue the one woman he was bound to spend his life with when he could first sample the other ripe fruits dangling themselves within his grasp?

  Any hot-blooded lad would have done the same. Ceara was not going anywhere. He could have his fun, gain some experience with the other lassies, and, when the time came, he would wed Ceara and give her the babes required of a man...and he was certain he would enjoy every moment of it.

  But time had passed and his reputation with the lassies held him hostage. How could he simply decide it was time to wed when he still had his pick of the lassies? Ceara never seemed eager for his affections. She never batted her eyes at him or shoved her very round, full breasts in his face like the other lassies did.

  However, something had recently shifted between them. Ceara had become disagreeable as of late, and he could not blame her. She was of an age to marry now and probably wondered when he would finally do right by her. He knew he had been selfish, continuing to meet with other women even after Ceara was ready to wed. He remembered the laughing wee lass she had been all those years ago, when he had played with her in the fields and pretended to be her husband and protector. He had so relished the role back then. But time had changed all that.

  He, with his neglect and selfishness, had turned her affections for him into a burning resentment that he could feel radiating off her every time they argued, which had become daily as of late. But today, he had taken it too far. He had been desperate to control his own emotions when she neared him, so he intentionally hurt her. And the look on her face broke him inside.

  Aye, he had wanted to sample the lassies but saying as much to her today was crossing the line. He was uncomfortably aware of the rare beauty she had become. It seemed he had two choices: succumb to his lust for her and give up all the other lassies to make her his wife, or push her away for as long as possible until he had no other choice but to wed her. He knew which choice would be wise. And yet, he had never considered himself a wise man. So, he pushed her away again.

  But the hurt on her face had changed something inside him. Perhaps she cared after all. She was always so outspoken with the other people of the village, laughing when happy and shouting when angry. She was a fiery lass where all others were concerned. But with Garreth, she seemed more aloof. He had always perceived it as a disinterest in him. But perhaps it was something more? Perhaps she had developed feelings for him and did not know how to respond to him. How could she, when every time she saw him, he made certain he was otherwise occupied with another lass? Was his need to keep her at a distance causing her distress, or worse, pain?

  The thought had never occurred to him, selfish arse that he was. He never meant to hurt her. And now, seeing himself through her eyes, he must seem like such a bastard. With a groan, he tugged on his beard until his eyes watered. He deserved the pain. Ceara was a grown woman now. It was time he did right by her. Aye. He needed to stop chasing skirts and start to woo the woman he was meant to marry—to be a man and do as he had been destined his entire life to do. It would not be hard to wake up every morning to a woman as sultry as Ceara. It would certainly not be hard to lay with her at night either...

  “Garreth?” Hannah whined again, snapping him out of his pleasant thoughts of Ceara. “You have been staring at the entrance to the hall all night. Who are you looking for?” she whimpered. It was too much for him to take.

  He had to find Ceara and make his intentions toward her clear. Garreth stood up from the bench, forcing Hannah to stand up so suddenly that she almost fell over. He really was a bastard to women. He berated himself and grabbed Hannah’s waist, pulling her into his body to steady her before she fell to the hard-packed earthen floor.

  She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, pressing herself further into his arms. “Garreth?” He heard his name again,
but this time it wasn’t Hannah’s simpering nasal voice. This voice was soft and lilting, like a warm summer breeze against his neck. He cringed and stiffened. Of course, Ceara would finally arrive, now that he had Hannah crushed against his body like two lovers preparing to devour one another.

  With a sigh of resignation, Garreth pushed Hannah gently away and turned to face Ceara. He expected to see hurt in her eyes, just as he had earlier that day. His gaze scrolled up her body, starting at her small, slippered feet, up the length of her slim legs, over her curved hips, narrow tapered waist, and resting for a moment too long on those breasts he recently noticed were much rounder than just the year before. She had turned into a woman. He heard her clear her throat and his eyes slid reluctantly away from her breasts and up to her face, where he stopped and took a deep breath. Nay, that was not the sadness he had expected to see in the green depths of her eyes. She was good and angry.

  Narrowing her eyes into small slits, she tapped her slippered foot against the ground and crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up even further. Her nostrils seemed to flare at him in disgust. By the gods, she was a beauty. She was all fire and pent up anger, and it excited him that he could create such emotions in her. Nay, being married to Ceara was not going to be the chore he had once thought it would be.

  “Ceara,” he began to speak, hoping to explain that he had not truly been embracing Hannah, but she put up a hand to silence him. He clamped his mouth shut and watched as the lass he had been arranged to marry his entire life turned into a proud woman right before his eyes.

  “We need to speak, Garreth.” She spun on her heels and walked away, clearly confident he would follow. He did. How could he not? She was a goddess with flowing red waves of hair, an immortal weaving through a crowd of inferior beings as her tempting hips swayed with every graceful step. He was a goner. He would follow her to the end of the earth if she asked him to.