“Devlin, now I understand your derogatory comments,” I said. “She’s big, but she’s not a smooth sail. You must be miserable.”
He glanced at Justine. “That’s not why I call it the ship from hell,” he replied grimly. “When you figure it out, though, just remember it wasn’t my idea. This is all Justine’s fault.”
Justine started mumbling in a torrent of French and I looked worriedly at Michael. He shrugged and we both turned, looking up expectantly as we came alongside the ship. The name on the side of it explained everything. It read: The Belladonna’s Revenge.
I turned to Justine. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” I said.
She looked at me sheepishly and shrugged. The sailors threw down the rope ladder and Michael gestured for me to go first, though I thought it had less to do with gallantry and more to do with his wish to admire the view from below. I swung onto the deck, looking around in dread. Sure enough, there was Belladonna standing on the stern deck, looking as perfectly beautiful as ever. Her curly, jet black hair was down around her shoulders and her lavender eyes sparkled in her flawless, heart-shaped face. She was wearing a dark blue buccaneer’s coat with falls of white lace at her throat and wrists, breeches, tall black boots, and a cutlass strapped at her tiny waist.
“Cin!” she called out happily. “Welcome aboard!”
Michael came up behind me and cursed softly under his breath. I glanced back at him, thinking of the last time we’d all been together. He must have been remembering the same thing because he slipped his hand around my waist and pulled me close in a proprietary gesture.
Cautiously we walked to the stern. “Bel, you’re supposed to be on Rose Island,” I reminded her.
She smiled. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what Sinclair is thinking right now too. I have to tell you, Cin, that while my brief visit to Edinburgh didn’t turn out exactly as I’d planned, it did put the spark back into my marriage. He may not love me like he once did, but he won’t give me up either. Now I run, and he chases. The fun part, of course, is when he catches me.”
That was slightly more than I wanted to know.
“You do realize we’re headed to Scotland?” Michael asked. “And the King of the Western Lands has promised to take your head if you ever set foot on those shores again.”
“Oh, we won’t get that far,” she scoffed. “Sinclair is only three days behind me and he has a much faster ship.”
I shook my head, wondering how I’d once again gotten in the middle of Bel and Sinclair’s marital squabbles. I hoped that this time she would have her own husband on her mind enough that she’d keep her eyes off of mine. I wasn’t sure if Justine still harbored any resentment over what had happened in London with Archie, but if she did this certainly made us even.
“Oh, cheer up, you two!” Bel said. “It’ll be fun. It’s been centuries since I’ve run a blockade.”
I sighed and leaned against Michael. “Just in case she gets us killed, have I told you yet today how much I love you?” I asked.
Michael chuckled. “Don’t worry. I doubt Poseidon himself could kill that woman. But just in case this is our last night on earth, how would you like to spend it, mo ghraidh?”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and looked up into his blue eyes. “I think I’d like to split my last bottle of whisky with Devlin and Justine, and then retire to our cabin.”
He growled and kissed me. “Have I told you yet today how much I love you, Cin Craven?”
“Not yet,” I replied. “But if you’ll take me to bed you can show me.”
EPILOGUE
Mount Olympus
Her angry footsteps echoed through Ares’s temple, contrasting sharply with the soft whisper of the raven-feather cloak against the marble floor. She marched into the room, defiantly coming to a stop in front of the war god, languidly sprawled across his marble throne.
“Morrigan,” he said, unimpressed. “To what do I owe the displeasure of your company?”
“I want her back,” the goddess demanded.
“Who?” Ares asked dispassionately.
“Claire Macgregor Mahone,” Morrigan replied.
That got his attention. Ares sat up on his throne and leaned forward, his fingers flexing against the marble.
“That will never happen,” he said coldly.
“She’s a Celt. She’s my subject and I want her back.”
“She’s my wife,” Ares roared. “And you’ll not be getting her back. I don’t care if she was once your subject, she’s here now and here she will stay. Besides, who are you to quibble over territory? Your vampires run all over mine and you don’t see me complaining about it.”
Morrigan cocked one black brow at him. “From what I understand you haven’t been in a position to complain about anything for quite some time.”
Ares stood menacingly. “Go back to Tir na n’Óg, Phantom Queen, before I—”
Morrigan held her hand out and a sword flashed into her palm. “I will fight you for her.”
Ares leapt down from the dais, smiling, and drew his own sword. “You cannot win,” he said.
“Neither can you,” Morrigan replied. “So it appears we are at an impasse.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Claire demanded, drawing their attention as she entered the hall. Then her eyes lit on Morrigan. “It’s you! You’re the one who gave me the urn. How is it you’re here?”
Ares jerked his head around in surprise. “You gave her the urn? Why would you do such a thing, Morrigan?”
Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have done it if I’d known this would happen, now would I?”
“What is she talking about?” Claire whispered to her husband.
“She wants me to return you to her,” Ares replied. “And I have refused.”
“Well, I should hope so!” Claire said indignantly. “I’m the mother of your child.”
“And therein lies the problem,” Morrigan said. “You’ve taken one of my people and now you’re adding offspring to your pantheon. I demand remuneration. It is my right.”
Ares narrowed his eyes, irritated that the goddess was correct. “What do you want?” he asked.
“If you won’t give me the girl, then I’ll take the first female child of your union as compensation.”
“The hell you will!” Claire fumed, her hands flying to her belly. “You are not getting my baby!”
“This one is a boy,” Morrigan stated. “I have no use for him.”
Claire felt a surge of happiness at the news she was carrying a boy. Ares would like that. Then she became slightly offended on her child’s behalf.
“What do you mean you have no use for him?” she asked. “What use would you have for my daughter?”
Morrigan took a step toward Claire and found the tip of Ares’ sword resting just below her chin.
“Put away your weapon, war god. I will not harm her,” Morrigan scoffed and batted the sword away. She continued forward, unchallenged, until she was standing directly in front of Claire.
As Morrigan raised her hands, Claire’s eyes widened in apprehension at the sight of the goddess’s long, shiny black fingernails, sharp as a raven’s claws. But Morrigan was true to her word and all she did was gently rest her palms against Claire’s temples.
Abruptly, visions flashed through Claire’s head, images of a girl, and Claire knew instinctively that this young woman was her daughter. She saw her face, and her destiny. Then the images shifted and changed. Morrigan showed Claire the past and the future, laid it bare before her, and suddenly Claire understood . . . everything.
When Morrigan took her hands away, Claire staggered backward. Ares wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her protectively to his side.
“Does Cin know?” Claire asked the goddess.
Morrigan shook her head. “No, and you mustn’t tell her. She isn’t ready to know what the future brings.”
“Claire, I don’t know how much you can trust
anything she shows you,” Ares warned. “It could all be a trick.”
Claire shook her head. “No, she shows me the truth.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“I just do,” she replied. “If I refuse to give her up, what will happen?”
Once again Morrigan laid her hands on Claire. It only took a few seconds before Claire pulled away, shaking her head as if that could somehow dispel what she’d seen.
“All right,” Claire said softly. “I agree.”
“Kardia mou, you do not have to do this,” Ares protested. He narrowed his eyes at Morrigan. “You never wanted Claire. This was what you were after all along. What sort of scheme are you brewing, Phantom Queen?”
Morrigan’s face took on a hard edge. “The deal is done,” she said with finality. “I will return when the child is born.”
The goddess turned on her heel and strode out of Ares’ temple. Once she cleared the doors, a satisfied smile spread across her face.
I love it when a plan works perfectly, she thought.
Bound By Sin (A Cin Craven Novel) Page 21
