His limbs weighted by exhaustion, he trod upon the path to the privacy of his own cottage. There he’d soak his swelled head and reflect upon his misbegotten pride and arrogance.
Grayce’s brow rose as Brian turned his back on her and stalked off in a huff. “Well that was abrupt. Was it something I said,” she whispered to herself. Of course, it was something she’d said, and she didn’t regret pointing out the shaky ground upon which they stood. Brian’s parents had told her what happened to the unmarried men who jumped the gun in this place’s bizarre dating game. She’d been so caught up in the excitement of seeing him finish first, she hadn’t considered the consequences of her actions. As tempting as he was, the direction she and Brian were heading had to be stopped.
Hand holding led to kissing. Kissing led to fondling—if she was lucky. Fondling led to the removal of clothing. After that, the rest would be a foregone conclusion, a runaway train of hot, passionate sexual misconduct. As much as she wanted all of the above, she couldn’t lead Brian on like that. She was not in the market for a husband, especially a husband who lived in a land hidden away from the rest of the world.
Damn, Brian got to her, and she needed to fight off the magnetic pull between them before disaster struck. She’d never forgive herself if she were the cause of any man’s perpetual state of bachelorhood. Brian deserved to be loved, and she sensed the deep longing within him to love back with equal fervor. In fact, her own incorrigible longing made it impossible to look at him for fear of what she might do, like hand over her heart, body, and soul.
Grayce swallowed the bitter regret clogging her throat and strode up the path to the cottage. “The sooner you come for me the better, Boann,” she muttered under her breath. “I’d appreciate not having my heart broken, and I don’t want to be the cause of anyone else’s heartbreak either.”
She squared her shoulders, pasted a smile on her face and walked into the cottage. “What can I do to help?”
“You can fetch a crock of butter from our springhouse,” Brianna said. She had her hands full with dishes and utensils.
Brianna had probably made the glazed pottery she held, along with the butter she wanted Grayce to bring to the table. They did own a few cows and horses along with their sheep. These people had to make every damned thing they needed. The concept overwhelmed, and at the same time intrigued Grayce. She couldn’t fathom such a lifestyle. Grocery stores, discount outlet malls, and online shopping were more her speed.
Yet today she’d carded wool and turned it into long fibers ready to be twisted into yarn. Her efforts caused a deep sense of accomplishment similar to what she’d felt the day she’d earned her college degree. She gazed around the interior of the cottage. “Where’s the springhouse?” Whatever that was.
“Go out the back door. Slightly to the right you’ll see what looks like a small cave with a wooden door. There’s a natural spring inside that keeps things cold in the summer, and keeps things from freezing in the winter.” Brianna set the plates on the table.
Sloan stood at the counter, slicing delicious smelling meat from the roast that had been cooked on the spit outside. “I’ll show her and fetch the butter, love.”
“While you’re there, bring back a crock of bilberry jam for our bread.” Brianna returned to the wooden counter and began tossing a bowl of spring greens with some kind of dressing. Lord, these people even had to make the vinegar and the oil for salad dressing. Come to think of it, how is vinegar made?
“Come along, Grayce.” Sloan opened the back door, which led to a covered porch and down two steps to a few worn paths heading in different directions.
Embers still glowed in the fire pit. Too bad she didn’t have access to graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows. Grayce turned her attention to the cave Brianna had described. “Did you make the mound over the spring or is it natural?”
“My grandfather and father built the structure years ago. The same spring fills our well, and ye’ll not find water any sweeter or purer anywhere.” Sloan cleared his throat and studied the yard. “I feel the need to warn ye, lassie. Enmity exists between our family and—”
“The family of the man who took a swing at Brian?”
“Aye. ’Tis that obvious is it?”
“I’m particularly good at picking up on undercurrents.” She shrugged. “Emotions like animosity and malice come through loud and clear.”
Sloan’s brow rose and he studied her for an intense moment. “Ah. My wife is similarly blessed.”
“Is she?” Was Brianna cursed with a fae strand of DNA, or was she just one of those people who were particularly perceptive and observant?
He nodded. “Be wary of Aiden and his mother. They’ve caused a great deal of harm to many, and they’ll be watching for any chance to bring down my son. Even as wee lads, Aiden was always jealous of Brian.”
“Why does Brian goad him then? He’s asking for trouble.” They’d reached the heavy wooden door into the springhouse.
“Brian taunts Aiden because he knows a man who is enraged will make careless mistakes.” Sloan opened the door and ducked to enter. He took a piece of flint and a steel striker from a built-in ledge and lit the simple oil lamp that had been placed there.
Grayce peered around the dimly lit space. Earthy smells and the scent of smoked meat filled the space. “Brrr, it’s cold in here.” A basket of eggs and crockery jars sealed with beeswax were stored on a few shelves lining one wall. Wax covered rounds of cheese took up another shelf, and a few smoked hams, also waxed and wrapped in linen, hung from the ceiling. “What’s in the barrel?” she asked, pointing to a short wooden container with a lid.
“Salted meat.”
“Ah.” Wooden crates held slightly shriveled apples and root vegetables, probably leftovers from last year’s harvest. Did Brian also keep a garden, or did he help with his parents’ spread?
“Back to what we were discussing,” Sloan said as he took two jars from the shelves. He handed one of them to her. “I fear my son wishes to avenge me, and beating Aiden in the tournament is how he means to accomplish the feat.”
“Avenge you?” She sent him a questioning look.
Sloan nodded. “I was chieftain of our village for many years. When Blaine’s wife Helen came to our valley, she made it clear she preferred me to Blaine. Though I took part in the tournament, I had no desire to court her. I rebuffed Helen’s overt attempts to stir my interest. She and Blaine wed, and two years later, Brianna came to us.
“I knew Brianna was meant for me the moment I laid eyes upon her. ’Tis certain everyone could see how deeply I felt for Brianna from the very start. Blaine resented me for being Helen’s first choice to be sure, and I don’t believe the two were ever well contented as a couple, which only deepened their animosity toward us.”
“Because you and Brianna have always been blissfully happy. So, basically, Helen believed herself to be a woman scorned. She and Blaine were probably both jealous of you and Brianna, and they passed that on to their son.” Grayce arched a brow. “This is worrisome, because Helen and Rebecca are two peas in a pod, and they’re spending a lot of time together. Both are selfish, cunning and treacherous.”
“Aye, so they are.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Three summers ago Helen, Blaine, and Aiden concocted a tale. Helen accused me of assaulting her, and Blaine claimed he came upon us just in the nick of time to rescue his wife from a brutal rape. They’d even gone so far as to bruise Helen’s wrists and … on other parts of her, using the bruises as evidence of my brutishness. Being chieftain, I was easily led by Aiden to where his mother awaited me. He used the pretext of her being hurt and in need of help. Blaine of course could not be found, he said, which is why Aiden came to me.”
He sighed heavily. “I should have brought someone with me. I could not deny being in her presence, and with no other witnesses than the three who conspired against me, I was trapped.”
“It’s not in you to commit such an act of violence against a
woman.” White hot anger flared. “Surely no one believed them. You’ve been here your entire life. Everyone knows your nature, and they had to see through Helen.”
“Blaine had his followers, those who wished to see to my downfall, and I had many who are loyal to me. The druids and the council of elders heard both sides, and the solution—or I should say the compromise proposed to prevent murder—was that I relinquish my role as chieftain. In the end, I believe that was exactly what Blaine and Helen intended from the start, as Blaine insisted he take my place as compensation for the wrong done to his family.”
“So, the very criminals who fabricated the scandal took over the role as chieftain and first family in your community.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe a majority went along with that.”
“I agreed to step down. Who became chieftain was left to others, and my family took no part in that decision. Most knew Helen and Blaine well enough to suspect they’d lied, but they feared more retaliation and mischief if they didn’t go along with granting them what they wanted. Blaine had a few likeminded bullies supporting him, and we were all concerned about what they might do to anyone who spoke out against them. My son has it in his mind to wrest the role of chieftain from Aiden’s covetous grasp. ’Tis certain Brian believes doing so will restore our family’s honor.”
“The difference being Brian will win with integrity. Your son is a good man and more highly skilled, while Aiden won’t hesitate to cheat,” Grayce muttered. “I’m afraid Aiden will seriously injure Brian while trying to make it look like an accident.” Anyone with common sense could see that coming. Everyone had laughed when Aiden took a swing at Brian and missed. Goading and humiliating the man would only exacerbate an already dangerous situation.
Sloan grinned and patted her on the shoulder. “Ye are as canny as ye are fair, lassie. ’Tis a good thing indeed my son has set his heart upon ye. Your arrival has gladdened our hearts, and that’s the truth. I’ve not seen my wife so happy since before the false accusations laid upon me, and for that I am more grateful than I can say.”
Oh God. She should tell him about her half-fae shirttail relative who would rescue her any day now, but she couldn’t. The words refused to form, and instead, her throat tightened. She gladdened their hearts? That was the nicest thing anyone had ever accused her of in her entire life. “Why did you tell me all this? What do you want me to do?”
They left the manmade walk-in cooler, and Sloan shut and latched the door behind her. “I want ye to knock some sense into my son’s thick head, that’s what. I’ve told him to let go of the past, yet he will not. Brianna and I know the truth. My son and our closest friends know the truth. My father knows I’d never do such a thing, and thank the goddess my mother passed before the scandal occurred. Those I care about know me well enough, and those who don’t—I need not worry over.”
The bitterness in his tone broke her heart and belied his words. He did care what his clan thought. “You can add me to the list, Sloan. The love, respect, and trust between you and Brianna is obvious, and I know you would never do anything to jeopardize what the two of you have together.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and the sense of relief settling over him radiated to her.
“My thanks,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Let us go eat. Brian has likely returned by now, and I know firsthand how hungry a man is after the endurance run.” He gestured toward the cottage.
The affection wafting her way warmed her heart, and once again anger flared at the wrong done to this fine man and his family. “So, your son tells me your father lives in one of the other villages and he’s remarried. How’s that going?”
Sloan’s features had eased, and he’d lost the haunted look. “He’s content, and I very much like his wife. You’ll meet my da and Beth ere long.”
Would she? They entered by the back door, each with their jar in hand. The delicious smell of roasted lamb spiced with wild garlic, rosemary and thyme filled the air. “Smells good in here.” She caught sight of Brian, and another annoying pang of longing hit her. He sat at the table with his elbows propped and his chin resting between his large, utterly masculine hands. His eyes were closed, and he yawned.
“You look as if ye might fall asleep sitting up, laddie.” Sloan patted Brian’s back as he set down the jar.
“I might.” Brian straightened. His gaze went to her, and a sleepy, lopsided grin turned his rugged features boyishly sweet.
Grayce got that butterflies-in-the-belly sensation, and it was all she could manage not to throw her arms around him and bury her face against his neck. Instead, she set the butter down and joined Brianna to bring the food to the table. She took her place on the bench beside Brian and the meal began.
“Who pushed you into the river this morning?” she asked, passing a basket of warm brown bread to Brian.
“Aiden. Who else?” He grinned and winked at her. “Not that it did him any good.”
“Too bad about Ciaran,” Sloan added, piling slices of meat onto his plate. “Good thing he’s young yet. He’ll have another go at some point.”
“Aye, but I intend to speak with the council of elders regarding the test of endurance.”
“Do ye?” Sloan’s brow rose in question “To say what?”
“I understand the need to be canny when it comes to these tests of strength, but I don’t like that a man was forced to quit the race due to an injury caused by one of our own. Such antics divide us and that causes discord.”
“The test of endurance has always been run thus.”
“Maybe ’tis time to change how we do a few things. Besides the hawks and foxes that steal our chickens and harry our lambs, what real enemies do we face, Da? What enemies have we ever faced since the day Fionn MacCumhaill hid us from the rest of the world?”
Brianna sighed and shook her head. “Sounds like a waste of time to me,” she said, arching a brow at her son. “The council of elders want nothing more than to keep everything the way it has always been.”
“Aye, and just because we’ve not faced an enemy for eons doesn’t mean we won’t face a threat in the future,” Sloan argued. “Who can say what will happen with the fae magic waning as it is? The tournament is as much about keeping mentally and physically fit as it is about proving yourself to your clan.”
Who could say what the future might bring? Not her, because she no longer had visions. Grayce frowned. She hadn’t thought about visions or the lack thereof since falling into this place. Had that just been three days ago? So much had happened between then and now, she felt as if she’d been here for weeks.
Brian glanced at her. “We have other contests and tournaments throughout the year, and we compete in sports as well.”
Nodding, Grayce offered nothing in response. What could she say? She pushed the roasted carrots and whatever the other vegetable—a bulbous plant she didn’t recognize—around her plate and listened as the tight-knit family discussed the finer points of change versus keeping things as they were.
“Try some of this bilberry jam with your bread, Grayce.” Brianna slid the jar across the table. “It’s very good, and it’s loaded with vitamin C.”
“I will, thanks.” She obediently slathered the jam onto her slice of buttered bread. “Everything is delicious.” A niggling unease had settled in her gut, stealing her appetite. Premonition or simple anxiety over what would become of her, she couldn’t tell which. She ate anyway because she didn’t want to offend her hosts.
After everyone had finished, Sloan scraped the leftovers onto a wooden platter. Brian stood up and stretched, and then he turned to her. “I’ll take the scraps out to the dogs, Da. Will ye join me, Grayce?”
“I should help with the dishes.”
“No need,” Sloan said. “Brianna and I will take care of cleaning up. ’Tis something we enjoy doing together.”
“It’s true.” Brianna grinned. “After we’re done, we’ll play a game of cards and have a cup of herbal tea before retiring for the night. It’s our routi
ne.”
“Oh.” Their obvious domestic contentment brought on another annoying twinge, this one undeniably jealousy. “You have cards?”
“Yes. We’ve made several decks over the years, and my husband fashioned a cribbage board for me. I’ve taught Sloan and my son several card games.”
“And I taught her how to play backgammon,” Sloan added. “I made that board too, and the dice from the antlers of a buck.”
“Grayce, let us feed the dogs before I fall asleep on my feet.” Brian stood by the back door, the platter of scraps in his hands.
“Coming.” She opened the door and followed him out. The early evening air had grown humid, and the scent of impending rain tinged the air. Clouds obscured the setting sun, but there was still enough light left to see by.
Brian gave a sharp whistle, and the two dogs barked in answer. A moment later the pair raced into the yard, whining and wagging their tails frenetically.
“Do these two have names?” she asked, watching as Brian used a knife he kept at his waist to divide the meal into two piles before setting down the platter.
“Aye.” He wiped his blade off in the grass. “This one is called Rufus,” he said patting the larger of the two on the head. “And this is Rosie. My mother named them.” He crouched down and scratched the pair behind their ears as they gobbled their supper. “You’re good dogs, aye?” Both dogs wagged their tails in happy agreement. Brian rose from the ground. “I brought ye something. Come, let us sit for a moment.”
He led her to a rough-hewn bench of pine set against the cottage and under an extended section of thatched roofing. Wood shavings littered the ground around the legs. She brushed off a bit of sawdust and took a seat. “This must be where your father makes backgammon and cribbage boards.”
“Mm-mm.” He sat beside her and reached under the bench, bringing forth the woolen bag he’d stashed there. “I made these for ye.” He placed the bag in her lap. “I hope they fit.”
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