“I know enough to lead us, druid.” Aiden’s face had turned a ruddy shade, and his hands fisted at his sides.
Brian’s attention was riveted to the battle of wills unfolding in front of him. Everyone knew Aiden counted on taking over for his father, just as many suspected Aiden and his mother may have hastened Blaine’s death by unnatural means. Ceann Carraig had not accused Aiden outright, yet none could have missed the druid’s hint regarding potions. Had Blaine been poisoned?
“Ye shall be given the same opportunity as everyone else to earn the position, MacBlaine.” The druid’s thunderous expression brooked no argument. “Sit down.”
Aiden sat back down, his mutinous glint aimed at their head druid. Blaine’s son had been cultivating a following ever since his father fell ill. Brian could only imagine what he’d promised in return for their support. The druids had put an end to Aiden’s scheming, and they’d done so brilliantly.
Whoever became chieftain would have to earn the right, and not through extortion or bribery. Brian could scarce contain his excitement as his resolve solidified. He intended to win, not only the heart of the woman beside him, but the respect of his people. What better way to prove to their clan that his family hadn’t deserved the shame heaped upon him? What better way to clear his family’s name than to prove himself an exemplary leader?
Grayce could not have understood the choice was hers from what the druid had said. His awareness shifted to her as she bristled with stiff indignation. He leaned close. “Now, lassie, ’tis not so bad as it sounds. Ye will be well cared for.”
She made a choking, sputtering noise and jumped to her feet. “I refuse to participate,” she shouted. “I am not a prize to be handed over to the winner of your stupid he-man Olympics.” She stomped her foot, just missing Brian’s toes by a hair’s breadth.
He tucked his feet beneath the bench and stared up at the magnificent woman beside him. Standing up to a people she didn’t know, in a land that was not her own, took great courage. His respect and admiration for her grew by leaps and bounds. Grayce was not only lovely, but brave and spirited as well.
Aye, he’d become their village chieftain, with Grayce standing by his side as his wife. Together, they would guide their clan safely through the danger facing them. Warmth and a sense of rightness filled him. Just then the wee lassie lifted her chin and glared at Ceann Carraig.
“I am not a trophy to be won and placed on some man’s mantel,” she announced, her tone defiant and firm.
Never before had Brian witnessed Ceann Carraig’s mouth twitch as it did at that moment. “Ah, I see.” The druid tugged at his beard as the twitching culminated into a rare smile. “Ye leave us no choice then, Grayce MacCarthy.” He shrugged. “We shall have to sacrifice ye upon the altar after all.” He arched a brow. “To ensure this year’s crops are bountiful, ye see.”
Tittering laughter rippled through the air and everyone stared Grayce’s way. She sat down abruptly, her face pale. “That’s not funny,” she gritted out, glancing at Brianna. “How does he know I asked about that?”
“Who can say?” Brianna patted Grayce’s arm. “Don’t worry. All can see you impressed him with your courage and conviction.”
“He’s only teasing,” Brian added, patting her other arm. “We don’t—”
“Is he teasing? With the fae magic waning and all, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sloan leaned forward and winked at her. “The druids have eyes and ears everywhere, lassie. Not a blade of grass turns in our villages without them knowing.” He tapped his temple. “They sense things, ye see.”
“Don’t frighten the poor girl any more than she already is, my love,” Brianna admonished, jutting her chin toward the druid. “I’m sure someone overheard us talking as we walked here, and they shared what they heard with him. Hush now, all of you. He’s not finished.”
Grayce seemed at ease with his parents, and that pleased him immensely. She’d soften toward him with time. Once he proved to her the choice was hers, and that he had the utmost respect for her. Ceann Carraig held up his hands, once again calling for quiet.
“Let us not forget one of our own will be laid to rest this day. We shall feast this eve in honor of our chieftain’s memory, and to bless the tournament about to begin. The first trial will be the test of endurance, and the contest shall commence at dawn two days hence. All of ye, make welcome Grayce MacCarthy”—he gestured toward her and then turned to the dark one—“and Rebecca Hurley. May the goddess bestow her blessings upon ye both.
“Brian, now that all has been explained,” Grayce said, flapping a hand in the air, “can I ask questions and finally get some answers?”
Brian stepped into the crowd, creating space so that Grayce could precede him. “Ye may.” He had the sensation of being watched, and the fine hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. Turning, he surveyed those leaving the clearing. The other woman who’d come to their valleys scrutinized him from her place on the opposite side of the pit, smiling seductively as he met her stare.
She had a hardened, deceitful look about her. Where Grayce was distraught about finding herself in their valleys, the dark one appeared to be calculating how best to turn the situation to her advantage. Brian harbored no doubts about Rebecca’s selfish nature, and she did not appeal to him in the least.
Aiden and his mother, Helen, approached Rebecca, taking her attention from him. No doubt Aiden’s viperous mother would offer Rebecca shelter until the young woman chose a husband from amongst her suitors. Brian would not be one of them.
For certain Blaine’s widow meant to encourage Rebecca to look with favor upon her son. Rebecca and Aiden were perfectly suited, and she and Helen were of similar natures. His only concern with the match? The mischief, chaos and harm the couple would surely inflict upon their clan. For the sake of their people, Brian needed to win. He shook his head and cut loose a heavy sigh.
“Why are you shaking your head?” Grayce asked, her tone defensive. “Are you worried about what I might ask?”
“Nay, I welcome your questions.” What was it about this woman that made him want to smile for no good reason? Indeed, she might be defensive, but her good-hearted nature and honesty were as obvious as Rebecca’s dark nature was to him. “I shook my head due to the trouble I foresee coming our way.”
Her brow rose. “Our way? You mean mine and yours?”
“Nay, to our clan, village and families.” He grinned and gestured between them. “You thought I meant the two of us. In your mind you and I are already—”
“Of course not. I just want to make sure that was not what you meant, because—
“You would not have come to that conclusion so quickly if you did not see us in that way.” He couldn’t resist teasing her.
“Don’t count on that,” she said, stomping her foot again.
“Is there aught amiss with your sturdy boots? The way you stomp about I suspect they might be uncomfortable.” His first task in wooing her would be to make her a pair of soft, comfortable slippers. He studied her boots where they stuck out from beneath her overlong hems and tried to gauge the length and width of her feet.
“There is nothing wrong with my shoes.”
She followed his parents into the throng leaving the ceremonial grounds, and he trailed after her. “You have questions. I give you my word to answer each and every one honestly. First, I wish to clarify what is to come. The men who compete do so only to win the right to court you, and that right will be granted to those who finish in the top three or four. Only in that sense is there any ‘claiming.’ Who you choose for a mate is entirely up to you.”
“Again, not interested, and it makes no difference. I told you; my family will come for me.”
Her certainty gave him pause. Perhaps there might be more to Grayce MacCarthy and her family than he’d imagined. Doubt clouded his thinking. With their fae magic weakening, might it be possible for her family to reach her? Might Grayce be lost to him before he even had the chance to pers
uade her to stay? If so, he’d not compete at all were it not for the chieftainship at stake.
“Just out of curiosity,” she said, watching where she placed her feet upon the path, “do you plan to participate in that ridiculous tournament?”
His blood rushed. The place she tapped within him fair burst with gladness. Despite her assertions to the contrary, Grayce found him attractive. He’d felt as much when they’d sat in close proximity. Still, he hadn’t been sure until this moment when she’d inadvertently revealed herself. “What if I am?”
“Are you?”
“Do ye wish me to compete, fair Grayce?”
“Makes no difference to me.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Like I said, I asked out of idle curiosity.”
Little liar. “If ye wish to know, ye must rise at the crack of dawn and come to the starting place.”
“Me? Up at the crack of dawn?” She placed a hand on her chest and blinked at him. “Not a chance. If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask your mom.”
“I’ll make sure she knows not to answer.”
“I don’t really care one way or the other.”
“So ye keep saying.” He chuckled. “Have ye other questions needing answers, Grayce of the Blue Hair?”
“Many.” She glanced around her before stopping. “If your clan began living here around the time Ireland’s kings were at war, how is it English is more commonly spoken than Irish?”
“’Twas decided long ago out of deference to the women who came to us. In more modern times, a majority spoke English, along with a smattering of other languages. We learn language at our mother’s knee, aye?”
“I guess.”
“More mothers taught their sons English than any other language, so we adapted. We also speak Irish, and many of the women have learned our language as well. I’ll teach ye if ye’d like.”
“Wait. Sons? What about the daughters?”
“Na Baiscne men only sire a single son. ’Tis part of the magical design to ensure our numbers do not exceed our ability to support ourselves or to protect our land. That none of the women are of our clan bear females ensures our progeny don’t suffer the consequences of inbreeding.”
“Well that’s … clinical,” she muttered, her cheeks turning rosy. “And a little bit sexist.”
“’Tis the way of things, and we cannot change what was wrought eons ago.” He and Grayce had reached the path to his parents’ cottage, and his ma and da waited for her to join them. “I must leave ye here, Grayce. I’ll see ye this eve at the feast, and at the crack of dawn two days hence.”
“The feast, yes. The crack of dawn?” She snorted and gave him her back. “Dream on.”
He would dream on. He’d dream of a time when he and Grayce would continue on to their own cozy home together. He whistled, and his family’s two dogs raced from the fields where they protected his family’s livestock. They joined him at his cottage. He filled their trough with fresh water from his well, and then he went inside for a few strips of dried mutton for the dogs, along with a few bones with bits of meat still clinging to them.
When he turned back to his home, Brian studied his stone cottage with fresh eyes. What could Grayce think of the place he’d built with his own two hands? He would have to fashion another rocking chair, a companion to the one sitting by his hearth.
Once inside, he rummaged through a bin holding the hides he’d tanned. He chose the softest, took it to his table and laid the leather flat. Then he grabbed a bit of what his mother called graphite from his shelves and began tracing the pattern for Grayce’s slippers. He’d work on the shoes until the village horn summoned everyone for the ceremonial burial.
A pair of fine gray eyes, and a lovely woman stomping about in a gown so overlarge she had to hold up the hems filled his mind. Smiling, he hummed as he set to work. Never had he imagined encountering a woman such as Grayce. Did he want her? Aye, more than anything.
Competition for her would be fierce. Every unwed man to lay eyes on Grayce would give his all to rank in the top three in the games to come. Though he doubted many wished to take on the role of chieftain, he also harbored no doubts at least one of those men would stop at nothing to defeat him. No matter. He’d be on his guard.
“Brian,” his da knocked upon his door and called out.
“Come,” he called back, continuing to trace the pattern for the second slipper. His father entered.
He came to stand beside Brian where he sat. “Slippers for Grayce?”
“Aye.”
“Your gift will last much longer than a handful of wildflowers. She’ll be impressed.”
“’Tis my hope.”
“I came by to say ye’d best be after her and make it quick.”
Brian’s brow rose. “Why is that?”
“She’s decided to go for a walk.” He frowned. “She’s heading south toward the spot where she came through.”
“Ack.” He shook his head. “’Twill bring her naught but frustration and heartache.”
“Aye, and she’s being followed by more than one hopeful laddie who will offer her honeyed words of comfort.”
His heart pounded an extra beat or two. “Is Aiden among them?”
“Nay. He has duties to occupy him for the time being. He must prepare for his father’s burial, aye?”
Brian nodded. “Are the lads following Grayce men we trust?”
“They are. None would harm a blue hair upon her head. They’ll boast, strut and try to impress her is all.”
He flashed his da a grin. “No harm then.”
“Ye won’t go after them?”
“Nay. Let them try to impress her. I’ve slippers to make.”
“How did I manage to raise such a canny lad?” His da crossed the room to the shelves and took down a pair of shears, a pair of bone needles, an awl, and the spool of sinew. He brought them to the table and took a seat. “I’ll help.”
Together they worked on the slippers, and after a spell, Brian grunted. “Did ye see the old druid’s face, Da? I’ve never before seen that man crack a smile during any of our gatherings. Have ye?”
“Nay. I believe Grayce surprised and pleased Ceann Carraig with her boldness. He never would have teased her the way he did if he didn’t look upon her with favor.”
“Ye leave us no choice then, Grayce MacCarthy,” Brian said, imitating the druid’s voice. “We shall have to sacrifice ye upon the altar after all. To ensure this year’s crops are bountiful, ye see.”
His father burst out laughing. Brian joined him. “Ah, Grayce of the Blue Hair—I hardly know her at all, yet she gladdens my heart already.”
“Grayce of the Blue Hair?” Another peal of laughter burst from his da.
“Aye, Grayce of the Blue Hair, prickly and brave.” His gut wrenched, for he knew she sought a way out of their hidden vales. Her hopes would be crushed, and she’d be forced to come to grips with the truth. Grayce would spend the rest of her life in their valleys, never to set eyes upon her kith and kin again.
Before this day, he’d never given the matter much thought. He couldn’t imagine leaving his family, friends, clan, and home. To not have a choice in the matter would be all the more painful. “Coming here must have been difficult for Ma,” he murmured. “Being ripped from everything and everyone she knew and loved could not have been easy.”
“Which is why I would never dishonor my sweet Brianna the way Blaine and his wife claimed. I love your mother more than life itself.”
Should he tell his father of his determination to win the role of chieftain? Nay. Best not bring up a painful bone of contention between them now. “Ma knows that. She knows their accusations were false, and so do I.”
“She suffered nonetheless. I’ll never understand why anyone would want to inflict that kind of pain upon another. Especially to one of their own clan.”
“Nor do I.” Brian shook his head. “Aiden will be the worst of the cheats in the upcoming tournament.”
“Aye, he will. Be wary,
and always check your weapons before ye engage in battle.”
“I will.” He shared a look with his da, and then he began using the awl to make holes for stitching together one of the slippers. He lost himself in thoughts of Grayce, imagining how sweetly she’d thank him for his thoughtful gift.
Chapter Three
* * *
Grayce followed Brianna along the path toward the river. Only the merest hint of dawn lightened the eastern horizon, and the birds were trilling and chirping all around her. Somewhere nearby a rooster crowed, and another soon followed. Normally, Grayce loved the sound of birds early in the morning, but then she’d had access to coffee. Not so in this fourth-century-wannabe hell with its lack of indoor plumbing and electricity.
If the fae and druids tucked these valleys into time and space, was she actually in the fourth century, or had time marched forward for these people as it had for the rest of humanity?
If so, and with women coming to them with all their knowledge from the outside, you’d think they would’ve made a few improvements, like indoor plumbing, but no.
“We must hurry if we’re to see the lads off,” Brianna said, leading Grayce down a narrow path from their cottage toward the river.
Grayce picked up her pace. “What does this endurance thing involve?”
“It’s a day-long foot race. The route is marked, and druids and elders will be stationed at checkpoints along the way to ensure none of the participants take shortcuts.”
“Some of them cheat?”
“Aye. ’Tis part of the competition to anticipate trickery, thwart others in their attempts at cheating, and find ways to get ahead without being caught,” Sloan explained from his place ahead of them on the narrow trail. “Cleverness and strategizing are as much a part of the contests as the tasks themselves. If we ever again face a real enemy, we had better be canny as well as skilled. Only then might we prevail, aye? There is only one rule the competitors must adhere to: Do not cause any serious harm to a clansman.”
True to his word, Brian had made sure neither of his parents would tell her if he planned to participate or not. Damn him. Rising with the sun had been difficult. It wouldn’t have been a hardship had she slept well, abut she hadn’t. She’d been given the small bedroom in the loft, the room that had once been Brian’s. She swore his scent still lingered in the lumpy, wool mattress. The shock of her situation, along with her unwanted and disturbing attraction to Brian had kept her tossing and turning all night.
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