Celtic Skies, Book 3 in the Celtic Steel Series

by Delaney Rhodes

  Something about Flynn caught her attention though. Rather than concentrating on his words, or looking at Patrick, he seemed preoccupied. Following his gaze, she retraced the same path back to Dervilla’s red-faced stare. Dervilla blushed even more, if that were possible, and Darina at once knew that trouble was brewing between the two.

  Recalling their conversation from earlier that day, as they stood atop the battlement watching the men spar, Darina was suddenly thankful Dervilla made the decision she had.

  “I canna’ possibly marry now,” Dervilla said. “I’m jest no’ ready. I wouldna’ be as lucky as ye, Darina, to be forced into a marriage, and then fall in love with the poor mon. No—I am the kind to end up with an ole’ boot of a geezer, and be forced to share his bed and bear him children I’m no’ interested in raisin’. Anaway, everyone I know has been burned by love as well. ’Tis hopeless. Jest look at mam and da, they married for love and didna’ live long enough to enjoy it properly. Look what ’happint to Kyra, Aiden died a’fore they had been married a year!”

  “But Dervilla, Kyra married Parkin, and they love each other. Truly, they do,” Darina retorted.

  “I know, Darina, everyone knows. That is why I am waitin’; I willna’ be involved in an arranged marriage. I jest canna’. I’ll have to take me chances on findin’ love, and then hopin’ it lasts. I have a year to serve out me commitment to Patrick, and after that year, I’ll concentrate on finding a mon. I promise. Besides, Daenal is a better catch than I.”

  “Dervilla, how can ye say that?”

  “With a straight face, Darina. Jest look at her, she is clearly the most beautiful.”

  “She doesna’ know that,” Darina mused. “She has no idea. Such thangs dinna’ enter her mind at all.”

  “I know that, that’s what will make her a good wife, Darina. Besides, she can cook betta’ than any of us,” Dervilla chuckled.

  “That is not what a mon needs. Well—that is no’ exactly so,” Darina agreed. “A mon does appreciate a fine meal, I will give ye that. But Dervilla, a mon of substance, he looks for more than jest that.”

  “I ken he does,” agreed Dervilla, “but I ken that placin’ Daenal in the position, rather than me, this time at least, with her looks anaway—she would garner the most interest in the alliance.” The girls chuckled at the sight below them, three men toppled over and now struggled to regain their feet, no doubt distracted by Daenal’s short trip from the buttery to the well, just outside the sparring arena.

  “See, they canna’ even pay attention to nothin’ when she’s around,” sighed Dervilla.

  “Dervilla, she is beautiful, isn’t she?” Darina breathed. “Jest like mam.”

  “Aye, she is and the worst thang is she has got nay idea. Nay idea at all.”

  “Dervilla, ye are verra lovely yerself,” Darina added softly.

  “Oh, dinna’ go tryin’ to compare me to Daenal, now Darina. I know I’m no’ hard to look at. But—’tis no secret amongst our clan that Daenal has a rare beauty. Jest look at the men who’ve shown interest in her since the announcement. We have the best of ev’ry allied clan here vyin’ for her hand. That would no’ have ’happint if it were me.”

  “Now, I’m no’ sure that is exactly so, Dervilla,” Darina said.

  “Well, we will neva’ be sure now, will we?” her sister retorted.

  “…and I will keep faith with him agin’ all creatures, living or dead,” Flynn repeated, “by this precept I foreswear.” Darina shook her head, jolting herself back to her station beside her husband, and the oath ceremony. Flynn was smiling now, and rising from his kneeled position on the wooden floor before Patrick. But his eyes were somewhere else—intently fixed on Dervilla O’Malley.

  ***

  He ran, as swiftly as his twelve-year-old legs would carry him until he had reached the stables. There was only one horse remaining and no guards on duty. Everything had changed since Easal became the new Laird, and even he was nowhere to be found. “Somewhere up in the northern territory,” Tragus told him. His mother and father had gone to O’Malley lands as refugees, and he hoped they were still alive. He hadn’t been permitted to leave, not once Easal’s men got ahold of him.

  Months and months of “go do this, and go fetch that” left the boy tired, but alive. Thank the gods. Many other young men were no’ so fortunate. The fact that Tragus trusted him with this important message, and told him he could stay and find his parents after “this whole mess was sorted out” gave wings to his feet, and he pressed on through the night. Riding bareback, he wondered what kind of reception he would make at the borders, but swallowed his fears.

  Just a few more hours and he would be there. He was unarmed, so they’d have no reason to kill him. Of that he couldn’t be certain. The Burkes and the O’Malleys were enemies of the worst variety, but the O’Malleys had permitted the Burke refugees, at the request of Odetta herself surprisingly. Mayhap he actually had a chance after all, and mayhap he would also find his parents.

  It was near to midnight, and the Bealtaine celebrations would be rolling in high fashion about now. There was nothing to speak of happening in Burke lands, with Odetta gone and Easal travelling, and most of the village’s buildings burned and abandoned. Odetta sent the most powerful of her military minds, and the most educated of the clan, to safety; leaving only a small fraction of the Burke’s lesser citizens intact. And—only a small fraction of the clan soldiers remained behind with Easal. “Loyal to the cause to the bitter end,” they said.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  O’Malley Lands—Bealtaine Celebrations

  Darina took a seat down on the bench just outside the dance circle in the main square. The bonfires were burning bright, and laughter and merriment rang out. She had danced heartily, and now her feet were complaining something fierce. It wasn’t as easy to move as she had hoped it would be. This pregnancy would be her doing in she reasoned. Not much longer, she thought, patting her expanding belly and smiling.

  Patrick couldn’t keep his hands off her, and the feeling was definitely mutual. They had somehow managed to catch each other, at least once a day, and retreat to the sanctity of their chambers. Having the master’s chambers on the fifth floor of the high castle had its advantages. One most certainly made sure they absolutely had to have an audience with the Lord, if they embarked on that climb. Once the baby came, she wasn’t at all sure she could make the stairs, much less carrying a child.

  But—Patrick fixed that problem as well. During the construction of the extended great hall, he secretly had a new master’s wing added as well. Tonight, he would take her there. Constructed beneath the new hall, it was as large as any master’s chambers he’d ever envisioned, with two ante-chambers, one for the new babe, the other for bathing. There was a secret door, just to the right of the hearth, that led to the stairwell winding below the castle. The chamber lay adjacent to the unused dungeons turned storage area and council chamber, and that would certainly make it easier to get to the meetings quickly.

  Yes, he would take Darina there tonight. It was lavishly decorated in reds and golds, and there, his present for his wife waited. He had worked on it laboriously for months, and tonight he would finally show her. It was the finest cradle Atilde had ever seen, constructed of beautiful iron, the spindles containing inlaid ruby, sapphire, and emerald stones, and the mattress itself he had brought over from India. It would fit the child for two, mayhap even three years he guessed. It was truly a bed fit for a little lord. Darina would be so surprised.

  “Milord,” the guard said, “Ye are wanted in the council chamber.”

  Startled, Darina looked from the guard to her husband, “Has somethin’ ’happint?” she asked.

  “I’ve been asked to bring his lordship below to the council chambers, a missive has been received, and Ruarc has asked I gather the council, as well as Jamie Burke; in chambers.”

  Darina flashed a worried look to Patrick and rose to stand beside him. “Patrick, should I come?”

>   “There’s no need,” the guard answered. “Ruarc bade me stay with ye while ye enjoy the festivities.”

  “Ye best stay here, with yer seestas,” Patrick told her. Noticing for the first time that he hadn’t stuttered, she reached up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “It sounds like we have somethin’ to talk about, Patrick,” she smiled. He smiled back warmly and wrapped his cloak about her shoulders, before turning on his heel to grab Jamie Burke on their way back to the castle.

  “Jamie,” he whispered in his ear, “we’ve need to meet in the council chambers, there’s a missive to discuss.”

  “Patrick?” Jamie asked hesitantly, releasing his grip on Dervilla, “is that ye?”

  “Aye, ‘tis me, Jamie. I hate to break up the merriment,” he said, noticing for the first time Jamie had been dancing with Dervilla, “but we are needed below.”

  “Nay trouble at all,” Dervilla responded, “I’ll jest dance with Flynn instead,” she said, moving over to stand beside the Scotsman, and oh so thankful a slow song began. “Thanks for the dance,” she yelled back at Jamie, “yer verra light on yer feet.”

  Jamie fell in step beside Patrick who followed a guard. Ruarc’s men took up the rear with a Burke refugee guard, and the two men and their entourage parted the crowd like a puff of air through water. “I have somethin’ I wish to discuss with ye…ah…Patrick,” he said, marching along.

  “Can it wait?” asked Patrick.

  “Um…I dinna’ think it can,” responded Jamie.

  “Verra well then, what is it?”

  “I have another contestant, for the…uh…the betrothal contest,” Jamie replied. “Another mon has shown interest in competing. We wish to enter him on behalf of the Burke clan.”

  “Ye’ve already got two men seated for the competition,” Patrick reminded.

  “There might be an exception,” explained Jamie, “for this particular mon.”

  “And how is that?” asked Patrick. “Why should the Burkes be able to enter more than two from their clan, when the other clans have only entered two each theirselves?’

  “A’cause, I am the mon,” Jamie replied. “I wish to enter meself for the competition. I would like the opportunity to win the hand of Daenal O’Malley.”

  Patrick stopped abruptly, causing the soldiers behind them to crash into their backsides. Looking straight at Jamie, he searched his face for any sign of explanation. Brilliant, he thought to himself, simply brilliant. Patrick grasped Jamie’s forearms, hoping to read his thoughts, searching for any sign of ill will or malice. He found nothing but a sincere attraction to Daenal’s good nature and pure soul. Ye don’t even know she’s beautiful, Patrick thought.

  “Aye, I do,” Jamie said audibly.

  “What?” asked Patrick.

  “I know verra well jest how beautiful she is. Her aura is an intensely golden hue, interspersed with a entrancing violet light. She is one of the purest souls I have ever met.”

  “How?” asked Patrick. “Oh, neva’ mind. Come, let’s walk,” he added. The two men caught up with the waiting guard ahead of them, and it was silent for a moment. The music began again, and the sound of celebration overtook the courtyard.

  “Jamie,” Patrick began, “Have ye, I mean, have the Burkes any rules agin’ marrying relatives?”

  “What do ye mean, Patrick?”

  “I mean cousins. Are there any rules agin’ cousins marrying in Burke Lands? There aren’t any such rules here, at least no’ third cousins anaway.”

  “Nay, there are nay such rules,” said the Burke guard behind Jamie.

  “Good,” said Patrick.

  “Why?” asked Jamie, touching Patrick on the shoulder, “Why do ye ask?”

  “A’cause, Jamie, Daenal is yer third cousin.”

  ***

  Ruarc fumbled with the missive, rolling it over and over in his weathered hands, and staring intently at the scrap of a boy that had been sent to deliver it. Why would they send a child to deliver such a request? Was this some sort of trick, meant to catch them off guard or was it something else? Something much worse?

  Lucian arrived next, followed closely by Gemma. It had taken her longer to get off the island. They had to send a special group of guards to fetch her, as the ferries were closed for Bealtaine celebrations. Patrick would arrive soon, and they would most certainly bring Jamie with them. How would he take the news—and the request? I certainly hope Patrick is in a good humor, he thought. It will take a very special man to accept this.

  “Patrick,” sighed Ruarc, “Please do come in and sit down,” he said. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Aye, and I have a bit of news meself,” replied Patrick.

  After the introductions were made, and Jamie was shown to where his seat would be at the large council table, Patrick began, “Ruarc, ye have a missive, do ye no’?” he asked.

  “Aye, I do,” Ruarc replied. “But first, let’s hear yer news.”

  Lucian grunted, and Galen took his seat opposite them at the trestle table, ready to transcribe the meeting for posterity’s sake. Patrick sought the face of each council member, and thoroughly convinced that course of action was approved, began, “Jamie Burke here has asked for special concession so that he may enter the contest for Daenal’s hand in marriage.”

  Gemma gasped and sighed contentedly, “Shouldna’ we ask Daenal if that is alright with her?” Considering their…uh…relation?” she added.

  Lucian broke in, “Wait, aren’t there rules about how many contestants there can be from each clan?” Galen nodded his agreement, and Patrick continued.

  “Aye, I’ve thought of that as well, Lucian. However, seein’ as how Jamie is the rightful heir to the Burke lordship, he wouldna’ be competin’ as jest another clansmember, he would be putting in his hand as the next Lord of Burke lands. That is a different matter altogether, one I’m no’ sure is even contemplated in the rules.”

  “What?” gasped Jamie. “’Tis true I’ve been elected as the leader for the Burke Ten, while here in O’Malley territory, but I’m no’ an heir to the Burke lordship. I am a McTierney.”

  “Jamie,” started Lucian, “there have been many important matters kept from ye. The McTierney’s kept a long-held secret from ye, at the request of the Burke Lord. Did they no’ tell ye, ye were a Burke?”

  “Well, they told me I was somehow distantly related to the Lord Burke, when they sent for me, but I guess I didna’ get the whole story. Tell me, tell me what is goin’ on,” he begged.

  “Jamie,” said Patrick, “the Burke Lord told the McTierneys that ye were his…uh…bastard child and he couldna’ keep ye in the clan for fear ye would be killed, for yer title. Ye ken?”

  “Aye, oh…I see,” said Jamie. “Is that the right of it?”

  “Nay,” replied Lucian. “The right of ’tis that ye are actually the son of Odetta Burke.”

  “The Burke witch…the witch…the evil woman…she is me mathair?” he gasped.

  “Aye, and that’s not all.”

  “There is more?” he asked.

  “Jamie,” said Ruarc. “Jamie, yer fathair was Duncan O’Malley, second cousin to Dallin O’Malley, Darina’s fathair. Ye are both an O’Malley and a Burke. Ye hold claim to title in both our clans.”

  “And, Daenal is me cousin?” he sighed, as if he were defeated.

  “Third-cousin,” corrected Galen, “a distant cousin at that. There is no rule in either O’Malley territory, or Burke territory, that would prevent ye from marryin’ the lass, should ye win the contest, that is.”

  “O’ course,” Jamie said.

  “Do ye still wish to compete?” asked Patrick.

  “Aye, but only if she will have me. I willna’ force her, not under the circumstances,” said Jamie.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  O’Malley High Council Chamber

  As nervous as he was, little Norton Gallagher did a thorough job recounting the events that transpired prior to his midnight gallop into O’Malley lands. He spoke of
Tragus and Odetta, hiding out in the cave along the shore, and the fact that Easal had most definitely gone daft. It was no secret and everyone knew it. It was Easal they could blame for the strange turn of events, and the necessity of most of the clan’s noblemen seeking refuge in their land.

  Easal was gone for now, travelling in the northern territory, most likely increasing his slave stock; needing an army of his own since most of the Burke soldiers were gone. Easal planned a war, a war against the O’Malleys, and anyone else who stood in his way. He would reclaim the Island of Women, he would—there was no question—and the land would be his. What he wanted that island for, the boy had no idea. He spoke of how Odetta stood up to Easal, and was thrown into her dungeons only to be rescued by Tragus sometime later.

  That was then, and this was now, and Easal would be back, and Odetta and Tragus had nowhere else to go. Since the Burke refugees had found sanctuary under Patrick’s arm, wouldn’t he now offer the same to Odetta? And could he go now and find his family?

  “Aye, Norton, methinks ye can leave now,” Patrick breathed. “However,” he added, “I will send ye with a guard, the Burke guard, he is standing right outside the door. Send him in won’t ye, Ruarc?

  “Milord?” the guard asked stepping into the chamber.

  “This is Norton Gallagher, he is a Burke refugee. He was separated from his parents during the exodus. Willna’ ye please accompany him to the Burke side and help him find his family? ’Tis awful late, and he doesna’ ken his way around our lands yet.”

  “Aye, milord,” the guard answered, before quietly shutting the chamber door behind them.

  A pregnant silence filled the chamber. Odetta Burke seeking sanctuary in O’Malley lands? It was one thing to seek sanctuary for her people—innocent people at that—and it was quite another to seek sanctuary for herself. Especially after all the hardship and strife she had put the O’Malleys through.