Forbidden Fate (Sisters of Danu Book 1)

by Mia Pride

  Copyright © 2016 by Mia Pride

  Forbidden Fate

  Published by: Mia Pride

  www.miapride.com

  https://www.facebook.com/miaprideauthor

  Edited and proofread by Liz Watson

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: miapride.author@gmail.com

  This book is a historical work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1539483687

  ISBN-10: 1539483681

  Contents

  Title page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Prologue of Book 2

  About the Author

  For my husband, David, who allowed the clothes to go unfolded and suffered through one too many frozen pizzas while I worked on my books. Thank you for your unending support. You are better than any book boyfriend!

  For my two sons who made writing this book take twice as long, but are the reason I get up every day. Mommy loves you both to the moon and back!

  To my mom, Naomi, who rushed over with a laptop for me when I decided to put my dream into action and write my novels! You made my dream possible. Thank you, momma! XOXO

  Big thank you to my friend, who also happens to be a talented editor and proofreader, Liz Watson, for her hours of thorough work and incredible insight. Helping me research Gaelic curse words was a riot!

  To my cousin, Mary Baldwin, who worked closely with me to help design my book cover and other fun marketing images, thank you for your patience and hard work!

  HUGE thank you to my beta-readers, Danielle Gray and author LaVerne Thompson for all of the insight and suggestions!

  To my amazing friends and talented authors, Leilani Love and Jennae Vale, thank you for being an inspiration and for standing by me and patiently answering my questions while writing your own novels!

  Prologue

  His breath was thick and heavy as it relentlessly assaulted the back of her neck. It was the only source of warmth on that frigid autumn night, yet it was of no comfort, coming from a man so cold. Their feet crunched on the loose rocks as they slowly moved through the darkness, each blind step bringing her closer to an unknown destination. Panic overcame her and she could no longer keep her disciplined silence. “Please, tell me where we are going. Tis so c-cold and dark. I cannot see where I’m going!”

  “Don’t speak. keep moving!” His voice was so filled with loathing that it made her body shiver with something much more glacial than the night’s chill. She stumbled along the path without any source of light to guide her way. Daring to speak once more in a final attempt to gain some clarity, she pled, “Please. Please tell me what I have done! Why are you doing this?”

  “Tis what you have not done, Gwynn. You have let me down.” His stern voice was familiar. Her subconscious remembered him vaguely, but could not seem to conjure an image of his face. Only his cold voice triggered some repressed memory in the far reaches of her mind. It was like a dream, a distant one, of someone she had once known, someone who had once loved her. But now, it was obvious all he felt was hatred thrumming through his veins, controlling him with a relentless vengeance.

  She gathered her long blue dress above her slim ankles to keep from tripping as she carefully stepped onto the unstable earth beneath her feet. Her red and green plaid cloak whipped around her body with the wind and her hood slipped off her head, exposing her platinum curls as they wrapped about her face in the freezing air. It was a moonless night, devoid of all light and comfort, adding an element of fear to her already terrified mind. She continued to walk slowly, as the faceless man held a long dagger to her back, pushing her forward.

  She stopped briefly as her left foot faltered on a slippery rock, and she could feel the sharp point of the cold iron jab through the thin linen of her dress. Gwynneth was in a panic and wanted to plead with him to show her mercy, but she knew it was no use; he had no mercy left to spare. If only she knew what she had done, who he was, or where they were going, perhaps she could reason with him.

  He was silent now. All she could hear were the waves crashing against the distant shore and the wind howling all around as her feet balanced unsteadily against the mossy stones. Intermittent blades of grass grew between the rocks leaving droplets of moisture clinging to her wobbling ankles. The only evidence of his continued presence was an occasional jab of the dagger to her lower back and his harsh, ragged breathing.

  The scent of the sea drifted through the air, along with a chill that froze her to the bone. She knew the sea was nearby. The waves were getting louder and the air was heavy with the mist of the night. Seaweed and salt perfumed the wind that surrounded her.

  As if her mind was instinctively fighting against her captor, a bolt of logic shot through her brain, giving her a strong burst of hope. He also had no light, she realized. If she could not see into the darkness, neither could he. Although he seemed to be deeply familiar with this terrain, she had to try and evade him. In one last desperate attempt to escape him, Gwynneth drummed up all of her courage, gathered her dress a little higher, and made to run.

  The rocks were too slippery and, as she shifted her body to flee, her foot slid sideways and she crashed down upon both outstretched hands with a jolt of pain that seared her wrists with the impact. The rest of her weight came crashing down onto her right knee as it collided with the rocks below. She grunted in pain, but with determination, she rolled her body away as she crouched low to the ground.

  “Gwynneth! Where are you?!” His angry voice reverberated, as if bouncing off of a wall. Her mind quickly processed an image of a cliff, and she suddenly realized where he had taken her. She had been here before, though she could not remember why. He had brought her to the Cliffs of Moher, and he meant to throw her into the sea.

  As he took a frantic step forward and swiped his dagger wildly into the air, hoping to make contact with any part of her body, he stumbled on a teetering rock, cursing under his breath. Trying to regain his balance, he sharply stepped forward and tripped on what felt like a fallen branch. His iron dagger clattered loudly onto the rocks as he groaned in pain. “I will find you Gwynneth. And when I do…” He was clenching his jaw with pent up rage as he felt around for his dagger amongst the mossy rocks.

  Gwynneth had inadvertently tripped him with her sprawled out legs as she was trying to scramble away, giving her an opportunity to flee. Following the sound of the fallen dagger, she frantically felt around on the ground and came in contact with its cold handle before he did. She grabbed it and scrambled away, crawling forward on hands and knees as she followed the sound of the crashing waves, muffled only by the
grunts from this fallen man and the violent whipping of her cloak in the wind. With the dagger secured in her left hand, she felt around the mossy rocks with her right, groping for anything to use as leverage to drag her body forward, toward the cliff’s edge.

  Suddenly, her hand grasped nothing but air; there was nothing in front of her anymore. She had reached the edge of the cliff. His cursing voice and struggling grunts grew closer to her with every breath. She had two choices: Allow him to reach her and propel her over the edge, or take matters into her own hands.

  Adrenaline ran through her veins as her heart beat loudly in her ears, like a drum guiding her body to the instinctive melody of survival. And, on a deep breath…she jumped.

  “Gwynn?” Her name spoken in his rasping voice, riddled with exhaustion and fury, was the last thing she heard as she was enveloped in a blanket of freezing wetness. Everything went black.

  Chapter 1

  Ériu 58 AD

  “Gwynneth? Gwynn? Wake up, a chailín mo chroí.” A concerned voice filled her ears as she came back from the deep unconsciousness of her dream. It was a man’s voice, deep and familiar, but not the same as the man in her nightmare. A pair of kind bright blue eyes, the color of the summer sky when the sun was at its highest, bore into hers. As his face started to come into focus, her mind returned to reality as she recognized the only face she knew, and the only one she trusted, her husband’s.

  “Liam,” she whispered with a smile as she sat up in their small wooden bed and stroked his cheek, running her fingers through the fine dark stubble covering his strong jaw. “I was having that horrible dream again. Tis always the same, except this time…” her voice shook as she recalled the cruel voice of the man with the dagger. She swallowed hard at the memory. It had felt so real.

  Liam’s jaw clenched and his forehead crinkled. She thought she saw anger flare in his eyes, but he shifted his gaze before Gwynneth could be certain. Something about her reoccurring dream upset Liam, though he would never admit to it. Gwynneth watched him closely as he ran his hands through his dark ruffled hair with a distressed groan.

  Liam looked so anxious. He always looked anxious. Had he always been this way? Without her memory, it was impossible to know. “Is everything alright? You would tell me, would you not?” Gwynneth’s piercing green eyes stared determinedly into his, urging him to respond.

  Liam groaned again and looked away. Her green eyes had mesmerized him from the first moment he stumbled upon her collecting wild flowers when they were children. Brighter than the brightest blade of spring grass, her eyes had locked with his and held him captivate. They still did. He never stood a chance against the young lass who had grown into this bewitching woman sitting before him now. The same woman glaring fiercely and demanding answers.

  He could not tell her the truth of her dream, not yet, but her imploring eyes threatened to pull him under their spell, just as they had done time and again over the years. Avoidance was his only option. “I know just the thing, mo chroí. How about I make you a mug of dandelion and peppermint tea. Your favorite.” He patted her knee as if she were a child and walked over to the cauldron.

  Gwynneth swallowed hard and clutched her fists into her skirts. As usual, he completely avoided her questions. It had been a fortnight since Liam found her unconscious on the shore beneath the Cliffs of Moher with no memory of her life. Waking up with an unfamiliar man hovering overhead had been frightening, but his familiar voice and calm presence soon made her feel instinctively safe. Her mind may not have remembered Liam, but her heart could never forget.

  She was slowly feeling at ease with her routine in their small home. The days passed by in a busy blur of chores and hard, but fulfilling work. She would tend the garden or work the loom and prepare meals while Liam chopped wood for the fire, hunted small animals, and made repairs to the thinning areas of the pointy thatched roof. And, when the sun began its descent and day faded into night, Liam spoke of their past and retold the stories of their childhood. He would go back and forth in roles, first as himself, and then as Gwynneth, raising his voice to a feminine pitch as he pretended to be her in the retelling of their past. If only she could remember any of it.

  Gwynneth would laugh until tears streamed down her face during his animated role playing, yet her instincts told her there was something he was not telling her, and it was haunting her as much as it was haunting him. She could see it in his tired eyes and defensive stance. While she gathered herbs in the garden or collected milk from the cattle, he would circle their home, like a bird protecting a nest of precious eggs from a ravenous snake. Gwynneth would watch Liam from afar, wondering what it was that kept him up at night.

  The feeling of Liam tucking a strand of her long wavy blonde hair behind her ear pulled Gwynneth out of her darkening thoughts. He leaned over to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before handing her a clay mug of steaming tea. Wrapping her fingers around the hot mug felt divine and sent warm waves throughout her body, spreading upward through her palms. Before taking her first sip, she took a moment to let the steam rising from the mug climb up her face. It was healing and soothing all at once. Taking her first sip, she could feel the heat continue through her body as the warmth spread from the inside out.

  Looking up, she realized Liam was watching her enjoyment of the tea with a wry grin. She smiled at Liam’s amused face, blushing slightly. His irresistible dimples flashed again and she let out a sigh. They always made her stomach flutter and she longed to touch one with the tip of her finger, but refrained. Aside from polite kisses on the cheek or forehead, Liam had not attempted to touch her in the manner a husband does his wife, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

  She needed more information. Perhaps more stories from her past would pull her memories out of whatever dark corner they had receded. “Liam? Can you tell me about our wedding day? I have not heard that story yet!” Her excitement instantly waned as Liam flinched, his carefree grin disappearing as he turned away from her to put his mug back on the table. He was suppressing something again, something she wanted to understand just as strongly as he seemingly wanted to hide it.

  “I know you are keeping something from me, Liam.” Her voice croaked as she tried to mask her anger. “I can see it in your face every day. I see you circling the house while I am away, as if you worry for our safety.” She looked around nervously. “Does this have something to do with my accident? You said you found me on the shore unconscious but unscathed, aside from some scrapes on my hands and knees. You said I fell accidentally, only…” her voice shook as she considered her next words. “In my dream, I am always jumping off the cliff intentionally, not falling accidentally. And this last dream…” she bit her lower lip, unsure of how to describe what she had seen.

  “Only this time, what, Gwynn? Did you remember something?” Liam ran nervous fingers through his dark frazzled hair again, looked up at her, then rubbed a hand anxiously through the stubble of his chin.

  “Well, in most dreams, I am stumbling on the rocks and I jump for some reason. But, last night’s dream was different. There was a man. I knew him, only I could not see his face. I could not see anything. It was a moonless night and all I could hear were his threatening words and the hatred in his voice.” Gwynneth abruptly put her tea down on the old knobby table next to her and liquid splashed out the side as she clasped Liam’s ever-worrying hands in hers.

  “Liam, he meant to hurt me. He had a dagger and I could feel it digging into my back. I don’t know who he was or why he meant to hurt me, but I know he was very angry with me. And,” she paused and looked up into Liam’s squinting blue eyes and pursed lips. “I recognized his voice from my past, I just cannot remember where. I have a feeling you know who he is, do you not, Liam?” She raised a slim, determined brow at him. She meant to get answers, no matter the cost. She was not some fragile woman who would crumble to pieces at the first sound of truth. Nay, she had survived the cliffs of Moher…and that man. She suddenly recognized that her dream
was actually a memory of the past. Her only memory and she deserved the truth.

  Liam, however, was not ready to share everything he knew. The consequences of divulging that part of her past were more than he was ready to accept. He was still trying to figure it all out himself, and without her full memory, it was all a broken story, impossible to piece together. Telling her the whole truth would do no good until she had all of her memories, or so he convinced himself.

  “You know I would do anything to keep you safe, aye Gwynn?” She was still stubbornly glaring at him in silence. An almost imperceptible nod of her head sent one unruly soft curl bouncing across her forehead. Once again, Liam gently swept the curl to the side and tucked it behind her ear. His eyes filled with adoration as he ran his fingertips down her cheek.

  In a slight tone of resignation, he slowly released his grip on her hands, placed them back in her lap gently and got up to stride across the room. Turning to look at her, he steeled himself to give her some truth, if only a little. “Aye, Gwynn. I know who the man in your dream is. What I don’t understand, is why he was so angry that he tried to kill you.” Liam shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck rose at the thought of any harm befalling Gwynneth. “I had hoped to be wrong in my belief. I had hoped there was another piece of the story that would better explain why he had dragged you to the cliff. But your new memory has confirmed my worst fear. He meant to kill you.”

  Gwynneth gasped and covered her mouth at his admission. She had asked for truth, aye, but she had not expected it to be so serious. “Kill me? So tis true? Who is he, Liam?” Her voice shook, as did the hand still covering her quivering lips.

  “You don’t need to worry about him. I am here to keep you safe and that is all you need to know. I will tell you as soon as I know more, if you do not remember on your own first.” Liam prayed to all the gods she would not remember until he was ready. He would never be able to look her in the eye and explain himself if she learned the truth on her own.