To Ride A Púca

by Heather McCorkle

  His eyes locked onto hers again, stirring that feeling of familiarity.

  “That’s quite enough. Unhand her,” Ciara demanded as she stepped to Neala’s side.

  Donal’s eyes widened and he looked down as he let go and stepped back. “O’ course, I only meant to steady her.”

  The void his body left caused Neala to sway on her feet, making her place a hand against the rock wall beside her. Ciara grabbed her arm and helped support her. It suddenly struck Neala with a powerful force that something was missing.

  “Dubh!” she cried out.

  Heart in her throat, she tried to lean out to look over the ledge but Ciara held her back. If anything had happened to him… She couldn’t even finish the thought. Her strength returned, riding on a wave of panic. How could she not have thought about him until now? What was wrong with her?

  “Dubh! Me horse, did ye see him?” she begged of Donal.

  “The stallion and the mare? They’re just up the trail in a ravine. I passed them on me way here,” he said.

  “Which brings us to a good question,” Ciara said. “This isn’t a well traveled trail. How did ye come across us?”

  Donal inclined his head. “Common, no. But it is on the way to the O’Carroll’s and I have permission to be on the land. I was around the hillside and heard ye lasses scream.”

  “Permission from a dead man.” Ciara flinched at her own words and bit her bottom lip as she looked at Neala. “Sorry.”

  Neala gave her the best smile she could muster and started up the path, staying close to the rocky hillside. “I’ve got to find Dubh,” she called over her shoulder.

  They made their way along the path in silence. Ciara followed so close upon Neala’s heals that she literally stepped on them twice. The nervous looks the girl kept casting over her shoulder at the young, black-skinned warrior, made Neala hold her tongue against a protest. Fearing strangers was something they were taught from a young age. She couldn’t fault the girl for that. Besides, it was kind of nice to know she trusted Neala and wanted to be close to her for safety.

  A cool breeze blew up over the cliff’s edge, the almost metallic scent of rain heavy upon it. That meant there was probably a good storm coming, one with lightning. Neala picked up the pace. Getting stuck on this narrow path during a downpour would not be good.

  “Yer friend makes a good point,” Donal called from behind them.

  Neala risked a glance back and saw a smug smile on Ciara’s face.

  “And what’s that?” Neala asked.

  “May I have yer permission to be on O’Carroll land?” he asked.

  Turning her attention back to the path to hide the shame that burned her face, Neala let out a ‘harumph’. “Course ye can, but I’m not sure what good it will do ye,” she said, mumbling the last part. Clearly her brother hadn’t told him about how her clan shunned their family.

  “Ye’re plannin’ to stick around then?” Ciara asked, her tone guarded.

  They rounded the hill and the path forked, both forks leading out across tree-spotted hillsides away from the cliff. Neala let out a breath as the tension that had been gripping her stomach let go. Once on the safety of the hillside path, she turned to look at Donal.

  “I’d like to stick around for a bit. If that’s all right with ye,” he said.

  The gorgeous smile he gave her made her knees feel a bit weak. Surely it was only the day’s ordeal. Though she wrote it off as such, part of her wasn’t so sure. Not trusting her voice, she nodded.

  “Thank ye. Would it be all right if I called upon ye tomorrow? I’d love to tell ye about some of me and Lorcan’s adventures,” he said.

  “I’d like that very much,” Neala said without a moment’s hesitation.

  Grinning, Donal started to walk backwards down the other fork in the path. “I look forward to it, but I’d best be on me way. Ye’re horses are just down that path. Will ye be able to catch them on yer own?” he asked.

  “Course, they won’t be a bit of trouble. It was nice to meet ye. And.. thanks for savin’ us,” Neala said.

  They both walked backwards away from each other, eyes locked together. It was rude to stare, Neala knew, not to mention the way it made her cheeks flush. She tried to stop, but the magnetic pull of Donal’s gaze wouldn’t let her. The desire to call him back and ask him to escort them home nearly compelled her to speak. But on this, she didn’t dare be so bold.

  Donal tripped, recovering with a graceful flourish that drew surprised laughter from Neala. Giving her a huge grin, he bowed deeply, spun on his heal, and jogged off into the trees.

  Ciara grabbed Neala’s hand and pulled her along. “Come on,” she said, her words ending in laughter. “He had quite the effect on ye didn’t he now?”

  Neala’s face burned, not because Ciara had noticed, but because it was true. “I don’t know what ye’re talkin’ about.”

  Letting go of her arm to skip along backwards, Ciara shot her a sly look. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Bren.”

  The smile that spread across Ciara’s lips made Neala’s stomach lurch. “Tis not like that, tis just that, well, he knew me brother.” She hated the desperate sound of her voice, and hated even more the guilt Ciara’s words stirred up.

  All playfulness drained from Ciara’s face. “Truly, ye have nothin’ to worry about. Ye and I are good as gold. I don’t know anyone that would have done what ye did for me, save for Cian.” The weight of emotion in her words drew Neala’s gaze to her. Despite the carefree smile that turned up her lips, Ciara’s eyes glistened with moisture.

  “Ye would have done it for me,” Neala said.

  Flinging blond hair out of her eyes, Ciara blinked back tears. “I’m not sure I would have. I hope so, but I’m not sure. But I would now.”

  A profound sense of joy burst up through Neala and she found herself choking back tears. Ciara looped an arm through hers, melting away any tension that remained. In that moment the girl’s friendship became more precious to her than anything.

  “He certainly was handsome,” Ciara said.

  Laughter bubbled up from Neala, escaping before she could hide it. As if in answer to her, a loud whinny echoed from up ahead. Practically skipping along, Ciara picked up the pace. They rounded a bend in the path and the trees gave way to a grassy ravine. The brown mare’s head was buried deep in the tall green grass. Beside her stood Dubh, his bulk making her look like a child’s pony. Tail up in the air, Dubh galloped toward Neala. The weight of worry eased from her chest, allowing her to breathe easy for the first time all day.

  26

  The world outside her shutters was barely starting to lighten with the coming dawn when Neala arose. Sleep had been elusive yet she wasn’t at all tired. All she could think about was Donal’s visit. As quickly as she could, she brushed her hair, put on her best breeches and tunic, and dashed from the house. Her ma called after her, bringing her to a halt just outside the door.

  “Támáthair?” she asked. Yes mother?

  A dish slammed down onto the kitchen counter. Neala cringed but it was too late, the mistake had been made. Skirt swirling in a whirlwind of popping power, her ma stormed after her.

  “Watch yer tongue girl. Tyr is asleep in the back room. If he heard ye it could be the death of us all,” she scolded as she stepped out onto the porch with Neala and shut the door behind her.

  “I’m so sorry, ma. It slipped. I…” she couldn’t finish, wouldn’t.

  Tyr wouldn’t hurt her for speaking her native tongue, she was certain of it. But her ma would never believe that. Still, she hadn’t meant to speak it with him in the house. To say she was distracted would be putting it lightly. Telling her ma about Donal suddenly didn’t seem like a good idea. Besides, part of her wanted to keep him to herself for now. Well, herself and Ciara.

  “Ye’re lucky. I gave him some special tea powerful enough to keep him asleep most of the day. Yer da and I have to go into the village for some things. We’ll be back before dark,” Cecily
said.

  A chill crept across Neala, stirring her power awake as a terrible thought occurred to her. “They don’t know about Tyr do they?”

  Her ma shook her head. “Course not. That would stir up more trouble than we already have.”

  Neala’s power settled, easing the pressure that had been building inside her. With a shaking hand, her ma reached out to cup her face.

  “Ye’ll be all right, I promise. He won’t awake until night fall,” she said.

  The concern in her ma’s voice made her smile to try and ease it. If she only knew Tyr better, then she wouldn’t worry so much. But neither of those things would ever happen. The realization stung.

  “Ye’re right, I’ll be fine. And I’ll be more careful about speakin’ around him. I promise,” Neala said.

  She hated the idea of her parents traveling even a short distance with the threat of the Danes looming so close by. But she hated the idea of fighting with her ma before she left even worse. As much as she loved a good argument, the thought harsh words being the last she spoke to her parents was too much to bear. Her ma gave her a peculiar look, as if she was still bracing for an argument. Resisting the urge to do what her ma expected, instead she drew her into a brief hug. When she pulled back her ma’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung open. The look was almost enough to push back the wave of sadness that threatened to wash over Neala.

  Thoughts of her brother sent slivers of pain stabbing through her heart. She couldn’t lose anyone else, especially not her parents. All the arguments and harsh words she’d had with them since Lorcan’s death were now like an anvil dragging down her heart.

  She grabbed one of her ma’s hands in both of hers. “Be careful,” she begged her.

  Water filled her ma’s eyes but she tilted her head back and banished it with a few blinks. She gripped Neala’s hands tight and smiled. “Course, ye’ve nothin’ to worry about.”

  Such a careless attitude with the enemy knocking on their door grated on Neala’s nerves but she fought the impulse to argue. With Donal coming to visit it was probably best her parents weren’t here. And she supposed they would be safe enough, at least for a few more days.

  A warrior friend of Lorcan’s wouldn’t exactly be welcomed by her parents. They had hated the idea of him being a warrior just as much as they hated the idea of Neala being one.

  Without another word, she escorted her ma to the barn where her da was hitching up the geldings to the cart. She helped him finish and saw them off, watching until they disappeared down the road that led to their village. Once the mist-enshrouded trees swallowed them up, she returned to the barn and took Dubh down to the lower pasture.

  “Ye deserve a day of grazin’ after yesterday,” she told him as she removed his halter.

  As if in agreement, he tossed his head and took off into the belly-high green grass.

  During the hike back up the hill to the barn, Neala wove her long brown hair back into a braid. She couldn’t have it getting in the way during her morning chores. Not knowing when Donal might arrive, she wasn’t sure if she’d have a chance to wash her hair or not. Best not to chance getting it dirty in the first place. Guilt sank tiny talons into her heart. How would Bren feel if he knew another young man was calling upon her? Worse yet, how would he feel if he knew she was worried about how she looked for the visitor?

  “Ugh!” she cried out as she reached the barn and threw the east facing doors open wide to let the sunlight in.

  Why should she care what he thought? She wasn’t his property as he liked to believe.

  She turned back to make sure Dubh hadn’t followed, half-hoping he had. But there was no sign of him. The lure of the green grass must have been too enticing. Grabbing a pitch fork and a wheel barrel, she headed for the stalls.

  Halfway through cleaning the second stall she heard the creaking hinges of the west side barn door. Her throat closed upon the tune she was humming and she froze with the pitch fork half raised. She thought about calling out and decided against it just in case it wasn’t Donal or Tyr. Whoever it was hadn’t called out to her and that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. She couldn’t help but recall the sheer size of the Danes who had brought Tyr. Was she strong enough to fight them alone now, even with her power? She wasn’t sure. Inwardly she cursed herself for dropping her guard even for a moment.

  “Diaduit,” a deep voice that resonated along Neala’s power called out. Lowering the pitch fork, she let out a long breath.

  “Oh sorry. Um, I mean… hello. Neala, are you here?”

  A pulling sensation—much like what she felt when jumping from a tree—compelled her to step out of the stall. Behind the relief that came from knowing the visitor was Donal, was a joy that surprised her. When her gaze found Donal’s deep green eyes, she realized the pulling sensation was coming from him. It had the feel of power to it, but not any power she had ever felt. Druid power generally pushed, or felt like pressure, this was completely different.

  “Hello,” she called as she stepped out of the stall. Knowing her hands were dirty, she fought the impulse to smooth her hair back from her face.

  In a pair of dark brown breeches, Donal blended into the shadows. But all was certainly not dark about him. The sunlight pouring in the open doors found him as if seeking him out, reflecting off his shiny, long black hair and lovely green eyes. A tan tunic covered his broad chest, the arms of it clinging to his dark biceps. He was even more handsome than she remembered.

  “Good morning,” he said with a smile that made her breath catch.

  There was something about him that pulled at her in a way not even Bren or Tyr did, something almost instinctual. Perhaps it was simply because he had saved her life. Deep down she knew it was more than that, though. Trying to escape the effect, she forced herself to look away from his face. Something else besides his eyes caught the sun as he moved. Silver gleamed at the deep v of his tunic, just between his defined pectorals. It was a metal medallion of knotwork upon a leather cord, and it was identical to the one that Bren wore.

  “Good mornin’ to ye as well.”

  She set aside the pitch fork and brushed her hands off. The sweet scent of hay and manure filled the air. It was hard not to cringe as she realized the smell was probably clinging to her.

  “Would ye like some tea and muffins?” she asked. If she could get him out of the barn then she could clean up at least a bit.

  “Thank ye, that’s very kind. But I don’t want to interrupt yer work.”

  “Tis all right, yer a guest,” she said as she approached him.

  Up close she realized how tall and broad he was. His size would rival Tyr’s. That thought made her cringe. She couldn’t take him in the house and chance waking Tyr, especially not after his response to Bren last night. Not only was she worried about the Dane’s reaction to Donal, she didn’t want her time with Donal interrupted. And, something about hearing stories about her brother with Tyr listening just seemed wrong.

  “I insist, let me help ye finish,” Donal said.

  Much as she hated to, Neala nodded and handed him another pitch fork. Diving back in with her own pitch fork, she tried to focus on the work, not how his closeness made the stall feel so small and intimate.

  “So how did ye meet me brother?” she asked.

  His eyes sparkled for a moment and the hint of a smile tugged at his full lips. “I was surrounded by men who were tryin’ to capture me and he saved me.”

  Even after three years, hearing about him was like a knife in the heart. But it was a hurt she was willing to endure to hear more about his time away from home.

  “That’s me brother, always helpin’ others,” she said in a soft voice.

  When she glanced at Donal, she saw the same sadness that pulled at her own heart reflected in his eyes.

  “That he was. He was one of the best men I’ve ever known, and a great warrior as well,” Donal said.

  A thrill raced through Neala’s blood as her heart sped up. “Rea
lly? I’d love to hear about some of yer battles,” she said.

  “The way he channeled his energy while fightin’ was like none other I’d ever seen. He could take on twelve Danes and make it look easy,” Donal said with a faraway look in his eyes.

  The pitch fork nearly fell from Neala’s hands as she stiffened and stood up straighter. “Ye knew what me brother was?” she asked, and immediately regretted it. What if that wasn’t what he had meant?

  “Tá, there were no secrets between us. I know that yer family are druids. But ye have nothin’ to fear from me. I would never tell anyone,” he said, giving her a look that was so intense that it pulled at her heart and her power.

  She had to look down to regain her composure. “Thank ye, that means a lot. I’d love to hear more,” she said.

  As they worked, Donal’s deep voice told her tale after tale of his and her brother’s battles against the Danes. He had a way of keeping the stories light and humorous, despite how tragic they often were. And he didn’t spare the details like she was used to with her da’s stories, and even with Bren’s. It was clear that he cared deeply for Lorcan and that the two had been very close.

  By the time they finished cleaning the stalls and bringing in hay for the horses, the barn was so warm that Neala was starting to sweat through her tunic. Her clothes clung to her, warm sweat was beaded upon her brow, and the sickly sweet smell of hard work emanated from her.

  Pulling her tunic away from her chest, she let out a disgusted grunt. “I reek,” she complained.

  Deep laughter rumbled from Donal. “Naw, you just smell like hard work. A woman that works hard is alluring, no matter how she smells.”

  Tingles spread out from her core, making her unbearably warm, but in a very good way. Turning to put up a rake, she drew in a few deep breaths, trying to control the blush that was no doubt turning every bit of her face bright red.

  Desperate though she was to clean up, she wasn’t willing to part company with him yet. The sun had barely reached the highest point in the sky which meant they had over half the day before her parents returned or Tyr awoke.