by Amy Tolnitch
“Why do you not have a man?” Lugh asked.
She did not look up. “I do not need one.” Her tone was frigid and dismissive, suppressing any aura of intimacy.
Lugh dove under the water and rose in a great splash.
“Father, what are you doing?” Ailie asked with a laugh.
He stood up in the water, well aware that his shirt was plastered to his chest, and also well aware that his chest was one which women found appealing. Lady Iosobal barely glanced at him. “Attempting to amuse myself,” he said dryly.
Ailie’s mouth curved in an impish gin, but Iosobal ignored him.
“She is improved,” Iosobal said after a time.
Ailie shot her a big smile and Lugh realized that it been quite a while since she’d coughed. He waded through the water and touched Iosobal’s shoulder. She flinched as if he’d touched her with a hot iron, but he kept his touch gentle and sure. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Ailie added in a soft voice.
For the second time, Iosobal’s guard dropped and she looked stunned. “Princess?” she finally asked as she subtly moved away from Lugh’s hand.
Ailie’s face was so solemn and earnest that Lugh’s chest tightened. She was so precious, his child. “I think you must be a princess,” Ailie said with a child’s certainty.
Iosobal slowly reached out a hand and brushed Ailie’s forehead. “And I think you are a very lucky girl.” She did not look at Lugh as she rose and rapped on the door. He had the oddest feeling he’d just missed something very important, but he had no idea what it could be.
The woman named Niamh opened the door and peered in. “My, ’tis hot in here,” she said, waving a hand. “I know not how you can stand it, my lady.” She carried a stack of blankets, and gave one to Iosobal.
Iosobal pushed her hair back from her face, and drew a blanket around herself before turning to Lugh. “Wrap her in the blankets and take her back to your chambers. Make sure she’s dry. I will send a warm drink to help her sleep well.”
“Thank you, Princess Iosobal,” Ailie called as Lugh picked her up.
“Aye,” he added. “Thank you for your aid.”
She spared a soft smile for Ailie, and gave him a short nod.
He stepped out of the water, thankful his body’s ardor had cooled. Niamh rushed forward with blankets as Iosobal disappeared out a doorway Lugh hadn’t noticed. He had the feeling that, like Tunvegan, this palace had many such hidden doors and passages. After wrapping Ailie in blankets, he carried her back up to their chambers, followed by Niamh.
“Do you feel better, child?” she asked.
Ailie yawned. “Aye. I can breathe much easier now.” She snuggled into Lugh’s chest. “So sleepy.”
When they reached their rooms, Niamh stopped. “I shall return in a moment with the child’s drink.”
“Thank you,” Lugh said as he entered the main room. He set Ailie down in her chamber and stripped off her soaked chemise, grabbing a quilt off the bed to dry her from head to toe.
She giggled. “That tickles.”
He smiled as he dropped a dry chemise over her head. “Can you stay awake for a few minutes, sweeting?”
She started to say, “Aye,” but got caught up in a yawn instead.
He quickly went to his own chamber and changed into dry clothes. By the time he finished, there was a knock at the door. He heard Branor’s voice, before he poked his head into Lugh’s chamber.
“How is the bairn?” he asked.
Lugh raked his hand through his hair. “Better, thank God.” Branor handed him a cup, and Lugh went back into Ailie’s room to find her curled up on the bed, clutching her pink quilt.
Branor followed and leaned against the door opening.
When Lugh sat, Ailie blinked her eyes open. “Drink this, and then you may sleep,” he said, lifting her up.
She drank it down. “I love Lady Iosobal’s drinks,” she said when she finished. “They are sweet.”
“As are you,” Lugh said and patted her back. Ailie snuggled against him and closed her eyes.
“So, tomorrow we fight rocks?” Branor asked.
“It appears so.”
“There must be something very valuable hidden in that cave.”
“Aye. At least to Lady Iosobal.”
Branor stroked his chin. “I wonder.”
“Mayhap one of your famed Templar treasures.”
“’Tis a legend.”
“Aye, like this island.” Lugh watched his friend’s expression. He knew Branor had once been a member of the mysterious order, but Branor had never shared the reason he left. Though Branor’s face remained inscrutable, Lugh sensed his interest. “We shall find out either way,” he finally said.
“Aye. I am off to bed. This has been a very … unusual day.”
Lugh grunted. “That it has.” After Branor left, he lay down and curled his body around Ailie, holding her close and watching the even rise and fall of her chest. Anything, he thought. For as long as it took, he would remain in this odd place with its puzzling mistress and do anything she asked.
Chapter
III
The next morning, Iosobal cracked open an eye at a knocking sound. She groaned and put her hand over her eyes to block the sunlight streaming in. She felt as if she’d gained no more than a few minutes of sleep, Ailie’s unfamiliar illness and her father’s compelling presence whirling incessantly in her mind.
“My lady?” Niamh’s voice called from outside the door. “Are you awake?”
“Aye. Come in.” Iosobal frowned as she rose out of bed. Artemis lifted her head, plopping it back down with a soft sigh.
Niamh opened the door and skipped in with her usual cheerfulness. “The laird asks for you.”
Iosobal sighed. “Of course, he does. Is he bellowing again?”
“Nay. He is too busy eating.”
Iosobal groaned again.
Niamh plucked at her skirt. “He is a braw man, is he not?”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Liar, she told herself. Even a blind woman would sense the man’s raw beauty. “I am surprised you did.”
“It has been a long time since …” Niamh dropped her gaze and poured water from a pitcher into a bowl next to Iosobal’s bed. “He and his companion were out at first light, armed with their swords. I’ve never seen the like, my lady. ’Twas like watching a very intricate dance.”
“He is undoubtedly skilled with his sword. A man like that lives by his sword and the power it brings him.”
Niamh shrugged. “Mayhap, but ’tis still a beautiful sight to watch. I have never seen a man like the laird. His chest looks like living marble. His companion is nearly as formidable.”
“Do not fear him,” Iosobal said softly. “No harm will come to you here.”
“I do not. ’Tis clear the laird is not the kind of man to force a woman. I imagine he only needs to display his brawny chest to have any woman he wants.”
Iosobal let out a snort. “Sculpted, no doubt, by attacking people with one of his many blades.” She stretched and splashed cool water on her face. “How does the child fare?”
“She is still abed. I sent Saraid to sit with her.”
Iosobal turned in surprise. “Saraid is here?” The woman rarely left her home to visit the palace, preferring her own company most of the time.
“Aye. She said she wanted a closer look at your guests.”
Iosobal’s surprise grew. She knew little of Saraid’s past, but the one thing she had learned was that the woman was very wary of men, a trait she shared with Niamh. That Saraid would willingly encounter two big Highlanders proficient in weaponry was quite odd.
“The laird says to tell you he is ready to begin his task, and that his daughter awaits you.”
A flare of irritation took hold, and Iosobal was tempted to remain in her chamber just to show the arrogant man she did not take orders from anyone. But that would not serve her purpose. “Where is he?”
&n
bsp; “In the hall breaking his fast.”
“Tell him I shall be with him anon.”
“Aye, my lady.”
Iosobal stared at the door after Niamh left. A braw man, indeed. Niamh was clearly impressed by the man, strangely enough. But she was right—The MacKeir was like no man on Parraba. He was clearly a warrior. “All I am interested in is how well he can clear rocks,” she told Artemis.
The dog opened one eye, and stared at Iosobal as if to question her conviction.
And a tiny part of her thought that she too would have liked to see Lugh MacKeir bare-chested, wielding his sword in the morning sunlight.
With luck, he should be gone by tomorrow, she reminded herself. I will have my tranquil life back again. She waved a hand, and a deep purple bliaut appeared over her chemise. Another wave and her hair was arranged in thick braids circling her head.
She glanced down to where she always wore her moonstone necklace, and felt again the unsettling sense of loss.
“If it means retrieving my necklace and regaining access to my cave, I can tolerate this arrogant Highlander for a few days,” she told Artemis.
Artemis leapt off the bed and leaned her big body against Iosobal’s legs, gazing up at her with liquid eyes.
They walked into the hall and Iosobal found The MacKeir, sitting before enough food to feed her household for a week.
At her entrance, he jumped up. “Good morning, my lady. You look particularly beautiful this morn. Do you not agree, Branor?” he asked his companion.
The other man swallowed a mouthful of something and nodded. “Lovely.”
Iosobal fought a flush as she realized she’d gone to more trouble over her appearance than she usually did, even choosing a gown she knew emphasized her eyes. “Good morning,” she said calmly, taking a seat. “Sit, Artemis.”
At the dog’s name, The MacKeir’s focus turned to her. He blinked and lowered his head to study Iosobal’s pet. “What is that?” he asked.
“She is my dog,” Iosobal answered.
“A dog? Are you sure?”
Branor peered around the table. “Doesnae look like any dog I have ever seen. White with black splotches?”
“They are spots,” Iosobal told him as Hemming placed her usual meal before her—a cup of wine, a piece of bread, and a small chunk of white cheese. “Thank you, Hemming,” she said.
The MacKeir lifted a brow. “Is that all you are going to eat?”
“It is all I ever eat this early.” She eyed the mounds of food before him and Branor. “I shall have to send Niamh for more supplies,” she said under her breath.
Naturally, The MacKeir heard her and gave her a wide grin. “Branor and I need to fortify our strength for the task ahead.” He popped a big piece of cheese into his mouth and chewed.
Artemis, apparently deciding that her chance of food was greater via The MacKeir, moved to stand next to his chair and put her head in his lap.
The MacKeir was so surprised he choked on a mouthful of ale. “Be careful there, dog.”
“She is just hungry,” Iosobal told him, trying but failing to fight a smile.
The MacKeir put a chunk of smoked fish on the floor, which Artemis swallowed in one gulp.
Iosobal watched in growing amazement as he and Branor finished every bit of food on the table, in between giving bites to Artemis. She exchanged a glance with Hemming, who shrugged.
Finally, The MacKeir took a last swig of ale, and stood. “Ailie is still very weak. And her cough returned this morn, though not as bad as last eve.”
Iosobal found herself wondering once more what ailed the child. She’d never seen such an illness on her island. She needed some time alone with the child, away from the discerning gaze of her father. “Saraid is with her?”
“Aye. She is feeding Ailie honey cakes.”
“I shall tend to her today.” She rose. “After I show you the cave.”
“Lead on, my lady.”
LUGH STARED AT A MOUNTAIN OF RUBBLE WITH PUZZLED concern. “What happened here?” he asked Iosobal.
“As you can see, there was a collapse above the cave.”
“How did it happen?” He gazed up and studied the land. It looked stable enough.
“I have no idea. The earth weakened, I suppose.”
“From what?” He walked around the pile of rubble.
“I said I do not know. I was in the cave when I heard the rocks beginning to fall.”
He whirled toward her. “You were inside?” he barked.
“I … yes.”
“You could have been trapped.” Why he felt such a surge of concern at the prospect, he refused to examine.
“But I was not. And now, as I told you, I need the entrance cleared.”
“Have you tried to use a horse?” A thought occurred to him and he frowned. “You do have horses, do you not?”
“Yes. Two. But they do not care for this place.”
He narrowed his gaze. “What is in this cave?” Horses had more of a sense about things than most people in Lugh’s experience.
“As I said, ’tis not your concern. Clear the entrance. You are not to enter.” She leveled him with what he had named her Lady of the Manor took.
“I will clear the rubble. But it does not seem a safe place for a wee lass.”
She held herself so stiffly that he could swear he heard a bone howl in protest. “I am not a lass. I am the Lady of Parraba.” Before she stomped off, she gave him a look that made the fine hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
Lugh stamped down the urge to cross himself and set to work.
IOSOBAL RETURNED TO THE PALACE TO FIND SARAID and Ailie seated close together on a bench in the courtyard. Ailie giggled at something Saraid said, and then spotted Iosobal. “Good morning, my lady.”
Iosobal could not help but smile at the child’s sweet innocence. Had she ever been that innocent? That trusting in the beauty of the world? If there had been a time, she could not recall it. “Good morning. How do you feel?”
Ailie pursed her lips. “Sometimes, I think I am getting better, and then …” Her voice faded.
“She had a terrible coughing fit on the way down the steps,” Saraid said.
“I am surprised to see you,” Iosobal said to her. “How have you fared?” From time to time Saraid popped by, but months went by without sight of her. Iosobal knew little of her background. She was clearly older than Iosobal, but still lovely in her gentle way, her blue eyes still bright and her hair still a pale blonde. Though she was not of the island, Iosobal had been unable to refuse her the safe haven of Parraba.
“Well. I heard of your visitors.”
“I put the men to work on the cave collapse.”
For a moment Saraid looked like she wanted to say something, but she just patted Ailie on the hand instead. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Ailie. I am glad you have come to Iosobal for care.”
“Me too,” Ailie answered in a small voice. Iosobal sat next to her and pondered what to do. “Can I go see the dolphins?” Ailie asked.
“Do you think you have the strength to walk down to the beach?”
“Yes! I know I can.”
Perhaps the sun and warm breeze would do the child good, Iosobal thought. “What if I have Hemming pack us a basket?”
“With honey cakes?”
Saraid laughed. “You ate a whole plateful this morning.”
“But they are so good. Please?”
“Very well,” Iosobal said.
Saraid rose. “I shall tell Hemming to bring the basket down to the beach.”
“Will you be here when we return?” Iosobal asked.
A shadow crossed the woman’s face. “Perhaps.”
“Tell Niamh to pack you a basket too if you depart.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Iosobal watched Saraid leave the courtyard, once more wondering about the woman.
“Can we go now?” Ailie asked, her eyes bright.
“Aye.” Ail
ie hopped to her feet and Iosobal stood. She was shocked when the child took her hand. Telling herself it might help her discover what sickness plagued her, Iosobal clasped Ailie’s small hand in hers and they left the palace.
For the first time in her life, Iosobal sensed nothing from a person. She usually could tell at once what ailed someone, even from afar, but something blocked her awareness with Ailie.
By the time they reached the beach, Ailie was short of breath, but the expression of determination on her face reminded Iosobal of her father.
“Do you think we will see the dolphins? I would so love to swim with them.” Ailie gazed longingly out at the water.
“Sit here at the water’s edge and rest,” Iosobal told her. “I shall call them.” She walked out into the water and whistled.
Ailie eased down onto the sand with a sigh. “Do you see them?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Iosobal whistled again.
Suddenly, out of the water not far from the beach leapt a dolphin. “Good morning, Poseidon,” Iosobal called. He whistled back to her. She glanced back at Ailie. The child’s face was filled with wonder.
In a moment, Amphitrite joined him. It was as if they knew Ailie watched them, and were putting on a special show just for her. Iosobal settled down next to her and wriggled her toes in the sand.
“They are so beautiful,” Ailie whispered.
“Aye.”
“I want to swim with them too.”
“When you are better I shall introduce you to them myself.”
Ailie turned her big aquamarine eyes up to Iosobal. “I do not want to die. Then my father will be alone.”
Iosobal sucked in a breath at the child’s somber tone and frankness. “I will do what I can, but I cannot imagine your father ever being alone.”
“He has his choice of woman, but ’tis not the same. ’Tis not love. Everyone needs love.”
By Saint Brigid, the child’s words brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She patted Ailie’s shoulder, at a loss for what to say.
“Why are you alone?” Ailie asked. “You are so very beautiful and kind.”
And I am a magical being with no place in the world save my island? Iosobal thought. “I prefer it,” she managed to say.
