Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad)

by *lizzie starr

  Needing support to keep herself upright and coherent under the onslaught of sensations spinning out from Gowtham’s kiss, she lifted her hands to his shoulders.

  As if her touch signaled her surrender, he pulled her closer, deepened the kiss and took sensual possession of her mouth. He tasted of dark desert honey and desire. She wanted more. Needed more. Knew she would forever crave more.

  Breathless when he eased them apart, she cherished her amazement at the intensity of their first kiss. With a tiny start to her scattered thought process, she realized this had been their first real kiss, a kiss of equals, of adults. Of lovers. She smiled and opened her eyes.

  A myriad of emotions flashed through Gowtham’s eyes before he drew a deep, uneven breath and returned her smile. Still hovering in a sensual daze, she refused to catalog those emotions, fearing she would precipitate his solid return to his hidden, pain-filled self. She leaned back, slipping her hands to her lap.

  He took another breath, and lowered his hands to cover hers. He drew a third breath to speak.

  “No, Gowtham,” Bree said softly. “Don’t apologize.”

  Startled, he stared at her for a moment then lowered his gaze to their hands. She held back a sigh. If he continued anyway and apologized for kissing her, for giving her a taste of his passion, she’d fall apart. She’d cry... and she hated crying. She had no time for any foolishness such as that.

  Gowtham curled his fingers through hers, then lifted one hand to press his lips against her knuckles. “Yes, I was about to apologize. But not for what you suspect.” For a moment the pain normally haunting his expression disappeared. “But, as you wish, I shall not speak of it now.”

  Bree drew her brows together. What would he feel the need to apologize for if not for kissing her? Reluctant to do so, she still felt the need to create space between them or she’d embarrass herself completely before sorting out her feelings.

  “Then we won’t,” she said and winced inwardly at her sharp tone. She pulled her hands from his slack fingers and rose. Turning toward the wide window, she stared unseeing at the practice field. A few steps carried her to the window where she leaned heavily on the wide, stone sill.

  Movement just beyond a low hedge caught her attention. Alone at the edge of the forest, Chance flowed through a series of exercises, the long sword an extension of his arm. Studying her brother allowed Bree to push aside her stormy, confused feelings. Yet while she critiqued Chance’s occasionally awkward movements, she relived every second of Gowtham’s kiss. And her reactions.

  She’d waited a long time for their first kiss and at times had completely despaired of the romantic moment ever happening. Now, when he’d pulled further from her than ever before, when he repeatedly refused her offer of healing, when she was about to embark on the most dangerous mission she could imagine and there was no time to explore their feelings... now was when he chose to kiss her? She sniffed, appalled at the wet sound and the damp coating her eyelashes.

  Chance took a misstep and landed on one knee. Even with the distance between them, she felt his frustration. And more. Strange, different emotions she wasn’t able to identify, something he was keeping hidden from her. She knew even touching him wouldn’t allow her to see past his defenses. A shudder tripped down her spine. What was he truly fighting?

  “I need to go to him,” she said and turned, colliding with Gowthaman who had moved behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and shook his head.

  “He would not appreciate your intrusion at this time.”

  Bree glared at him and twisted away from his embrace. “What would you know about it?”

  Silent, Gowtham studied Chance. “I know nothing of it, Breanna. Still, I understand there are times when a young man may not appreciate the advice of a sister. Has he not always come to you when he needed counsel?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded and crossed her arms. “Yeah, so?”

  “So, when he needs to speak with you, he will.”

  “And when are you such an expert on human communications? Or any communications.”

  He glanced away. “I am not.”

  She hadn’t meant to hurt him, to so blatantly attack his pride. From the stiff, angry set to his shoulders, she’d pushed too far. “Gowtham, I’m—”

  He lifted one hand to silence her words then turned toward her, the faint smile on his lips not dimming the hurt in his eyes. “No apologies, remember?” Then he gave an elegant wave toward the window. “Besides, another has reached his side before you. Allowing you to return to your rest.”

  Slightly suspicious of his odd attitude and the coincidence of someone else talking to Chance, she returned to the window. Even though Nightshade stood next to her brother, hands flowing with his normal expansive gestures, Bree was unable to let go of her conflicted emotions and relax. She tapped her fingers against the windowsill.

  Gowtham’s hand hovered over hers, then lowered to stop her irritated movements. “Perhaps it is the strain of the mission making you feel out of sorts.”

  She glared sideways at him before relenting. Maybe that was the reason. Part of the reason anyway. His unreadable, unpredictable behavior of just the past few minutes didn’t help either. Another kiss might though. Catching her reflection in the wavy glass, she pulled her dreamy smile into a frown.

  But he’d seen, and if she understood the male psyche even half as well as she believed she did, he recognized her smile, and despite his own confusion, was quite pleased with himself. The pleasure faded to a neutral expression then she faced him.

  He held out one hand. “Come. You did promise to rest.”

  “Yeah, I did.” She shrugged one shoulder and let him lead her back to the couch. He sat angled comfortably in the corner and tugged on her hand until she sat beside him. “I wish you could hold me,” she whispered then gasped as she realized she’d spoken out loud.

  Frozen like a lead statue, she dared not look at him. He circled her shoulder with one arm and settled her against him. She glanced at him from under her lashes. He closed his eyes for a moment and the neutrality faded. She wasn’t sure what emotion tightened his lips, only that it was a pain of a differing kind than he normally carried. Before she could ask, he cupped the back of her head and guided her to rest her cheek against his chest.

  “Rest, Breanna. Do not think, at least for this short while.”

  Tucking her legs to the side, she wrapped her arm across his firm abdomen and snuggled closer. With his fingers stroking her hair, she slept.

  Fourteen

  The past hour had been filled with blissful agony. The soft warmth of the sleeping woman cuddled against Gowthaman brought too many dangerous thoughts of what could be. He eased to a more comfortable position and rested his outstretched hand on the inward curve of Breanna’s waist. She sighed, stretched then relaxed with her head on his lap.

  Gowthaman swallowed against the sudden dry anticipation in his throat and shifted again. But this brought his splayed fingers higher on her side and he snatched his hand away, holding his fist in the air. There was no safe place for his hand. He released a shallow breath then cupped his fingers against her skull, delighting in the soft tickle of her hair.

  He fingered a short, silky strand, wondering what it would feel like, long and sensuous, against his skin. Gulping back a groan, he began silently reciting an ancient, boring... and long genealogy. But as if with a sensual need of their own, his fingers continued to stroke and caress her hair making his recitation only marginally successful.

  Breanna stirred, tensed, then released a long breath. “That feels wonderful, Gowtham. Oh, don’t stop,” she said when his movements froze.

  Knowing the dangerous folly of the actions, Gowthaman resumed the caress.

  Incredibly, Breanna snuggled even closer and tucked her hand under her cheek to curve over his thigh. “You know, I’ve been considering letting my hair grow long again. What do you think?”

  Think? He could not think. If he thought, he would not react.
He wanted to react, to act. He drew his hand from temptation. He wanted... her.

  “Gowtham?” Breanna pressed lightly on his thigh and sat. Her touch burned through his light trousers, an invisible brand marking him. He shoved her hand away and, expecting to see the burning imprint of her palm, stared at his thigh.

  Disappointment flowing from her in vibrant waves, Breanna jerked to her feet. Gowthaman lifted his gaze and willed her to look at him. She did, both pain and love revealed in her eyes. The pain sliced through him like sharpened steel, while her love offered healing. Who was this woman who held him so surely even when he denied her?

  Rising, he took her hand and pressed her palm to his chest over his heart. “I have always...”

  An expectant light glimmered in her eyes. Ending his denials would take only words, simple words, a few short syllables. What would her eyes show if he said what truly resided in his heart? He could not bear to know. “...liked your hair longer.”

  Breanna’s brows drew together for an instant over the dimming joy in her eyes, but then she smiled and laughed. “Then when I get back, I’ll be sure to let it grow. Maybe I’ll even ask for a touch of frivolous magic to make it grow faster.” She drummed her fingers against his chest then tried to move away, but he held fast to her hand.

  “Gowtham?” Her whisper focused his attention on her lips. He should never have kissed her, for now he knew the taste of her, the delights of her mouth against his. He leaned forward to experience again.

  “No, look.” Breanna nodded toward their hands then lifted their entwined fingers. “Oh.”

  A crimson aura, dark as blood, pulsed over her hand. She slipped her palm from his, but kept her hand hovering near his. Then he saw bright gold surrounding his hand. Never having experienced his own magical aura, Gowthaman watched in fascination as the color danced and played over his skin.

  Breanna moved her hand closer and arcs of his magic shot toward her. Red lightning burst from her aura reaching for him. Merging, the colors swirled in a sensuous display, stealing the breath from his lungs.

  Soulfire.

  Breanna snatched her hand back and hid it behind her. “We’ll talk about this when I return, Gowtham. That will give you a couple of days to come up with some lame excuse to deny we belong together.”

  Still staring at the wonder faintly glowing in the air between them, he barely noticed the knock on the door. Nor when Breanna moved away to talk with the intruder. Nor the excitement of a new arrival at the manor.

  There was no denial.

  Soulfire.

  Bree shoved her hand into her jeans pocket and berated herself for hoping. Wishing was for children and fools... Oh, but she was a fool where Gowthaman was concerned. Wasn’t anyone in love a bit of a fool? Still, she knew deep in her heart, he’d almost said he loved her. She knew it.

  Maybe it was honestly better he hadn’t spoken of love. The glow and sparkle of their soulfire had certainly rattled him into speechlessness.

  She curled her fingertips against her palm. Confined in her pocket, the heat faded to a mild, slightly scratchy sensation. Drawing her hand from the pocket, she scrubbed her palm against her hip but the soft denim did little to relieve the longing or the odd tactile reminder of her love’s touch. Something had changed between them while she napped. She and Gowthaman touched often and while she occasionally sensed a flicker of soulfire from his reactions, she was convinced he never had. She felt the same, so the change had to have been in him to produce soulfire now.

  Hearing voices in the kitchen, Bree squared her shoulders and stepped forward quickly. She wouldn’t forget. She and Gowthaman would talk in two days. No way he would get away with avoiding her this time. Putting on a public smile, she tucked her personal life away and entered the kitchen.

  “Catori, it’s great to see you.” She greeted Coralie’s sister with a hug then grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and leaned her hip against the counter to take a sip.

  Tori smiled then grew serious and took Coralie’s hand. “In a dreamwalk I saw you leaving. I couldn’t let you go without my support.”

  “I dinna think, ’tis been a hectic time, for we dinna realize how limited the time was. We must leave tonight or we lose the opportunity.”

  Tori nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m here. And I’ll be here when you get back. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

  “Aye?” Coralie gestured absently then tucked an indefinable packet into the pack set beside her chair. “An’ it could no’ wait?”

  “I would have thought so, but a shadow figure in the dreamwalk said I needed to be here now, to tell you before you go.”

  Bree straightened. “Well, we should let you get talking then. I’ll go—”

  Tori caught Bree’s sleeve. “No, I’m supposed to tell everyone. I don’t understand why this is important, but it is. Please. I won’t take long, only a few moments. I know your time is precious. I don’t understand how this has any bearing on what you plan to do. I’ve learned, though, not to question the guides I meet on dreamwalks.”

  “Nor would I ever expect ye to, m’ sister.” Coralie rose to hug her then stepped back. “Tell us, then. If we do no’ now understand what import there may be fer Morghan’s homecoming, then we shall when that time is upon us.”

  Tori grinned and Bree stared at the matching expressions on similar faces. As often before, she fought amazement at how alike they were. Sisters, definitely, but raised in totally different worlds. Coralie had been a ward of Morghan’s father, the king of the Alfar-Sindhu, while Catori had grown up in a human, native American society. Whether it was fate, fortune or magic that brought the sisters together, none would dare step between them again.

  As if summoned, the rest of the family gathered quietly in the kitchen. Bree glanced at each person as they settled into their chosen places then gave a soft snort. How long had it been the tradition for families to gather around the hearth? No matter what race or upbringing, everyone always came here.

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes behind closed lids. That was an interesting, random thought. Not appropriate to the time or gathering. Or, perhaps it was. This widely inclusive, accepting family, while gathering for another reason, was also here for support.

  Gowthaman paused at her side, then moved past her to take a seat at the table. The low murmur of individual conversations halted and Tori spoke.

  “Dreamwalks have been difficult for me to interpret lately. Even when I factor in the disturbances that might stem from the world between worlds...” She sat and slapped her hands on her thighs. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise accurate answers.”

  Coralie touched her shoulder. “Aye, we ken. ’Tis never an easy thing to unravel mysteries, even if they be only yer dreams. Nay, before ye give me another lecture on listenin’ to my dreams, I shall tell ye, sister mine, that I dinna need yer lectures. At least no’ now. Now we need to hear what yer guides have told ye to say.”

  “I’d never lecture you, Cor.”

  At Coralie’s lifted eyebrows, the sisters dissolved into giggles. The oppressive atmosphere filling the room lightened and Bree breathed a sigh heavy with relief. So caught up in Gowtham and her own feelings, she had momentarily lost touch with the others. Not a good thing. She’d have to keep her personal life separate while on this mission, otherwise...

  But one glance at Gowthaman, who listened intently to Tori’s description of her dreamwalk, and her heart raced, her body felt languid and jittery at the same time, and she couldn’t focus on anything but him.

  She adjusted her stance, crossed her arms and gave herself a pinch. Pay attention.

  Letting Tori’s lyrical voice hold her attention, Bree kept her gaze locked on Gowthaman, gauging his reactions.

  “So you see, the overt meaning of the dreamwalk is really self-explanatory. You go, find Morghan, and come back.”

  Nightshade leaned back in his chair and lifted one eyebrow in Bree’s direction. “I’m sure Bree is grati
fied your guides predict success for the rescue. But honey, what haven’t you told us?”

  Tori made a self-depreciating face. “I hesitate to say anything now, because I don’t see how this has squat to do with the rescue. It’s just that the information came to me during the same dreamwalk and I was instructed to tell all.”

  “Then ye must tell us, Tori, dinna ye think? Ye ken, even if what ye say may no’ make sense to us now, perhaps at another time such information may prove vital.”

  Bree smiled at Coralie’s words, exactly what she had drawn breath to say herself.

  After a short nod, Tori continued, “As you all know, ever since Cor and I found each other, we’ve been searching for more information about our parents. Since Cor was raised in the Sindhu royal palace, and I discovered later I have the, uh, talent of breathing under water, we assumed we share an Alfar-Sindhu father. We discovered the truth of that assumption ten years ago. But we still have no ideas about our mothers. Their identities have remained hidden. I always thought my mother was human, a Native American, and that’s why I was placed with a tribal family.”

  “So, did yer guides tell ye of our mothers then?” Coralie leaned closer to her sister, an expression of rapt interest filling her face.

  “Even though my Alfar half is drawn to water, I never really gave much thought to why it’s so easy for me to enter a dreamwalk. To float through the air of possibilities and flow with the breezes until I reach the dawning of understanding. It’s like—flying.”

  Leaning back, Coralie tilted her head to look out the wide kitchen window. “Yer thinkin’—”

  Tori nodded.

  Chance slapped his hand on the table jarring Coralie’s unpacked collection of containers and startling Bree from her mental lists. “Are you gonna share with the rest of us?”

  Clasping the young man’s shoulder, Nightshade said, “She means her mother probably wasn’t human.”