Forbidden Realm

by Diana Cosby

  He nodded. “’Tis excellent to hear the earl is regaining his health.” Stephan’s gaze shifted to Lord Torridan. “And your son, my lord?”

  “Thanks to God, this night he has awoken.”

  Rónán released a sigh, thankful he lived.

  Lord Torridan’s brows twisted together in confusion. “How did you know? Though Bran captains the ship you sailed with, he didna know Kieran was injured.”

  Caught off-balance by the question, Rónán looked around, realized Lathir and Lord Torridan hadn’t seen him as he stood in the shadows. Drawing a deep breath, he stepped into the wavering torchlight. “Because I informed Lord Dunsmore, my lord.”

  Disbelief glittered in Lathir’s eyes. Her body swayed, and the noble’s face paled. On shaky legs, she rushed toward him; Rónán met her halfway, caught her shoulders, wanting her with his every breath.

  Tears streaming down her face, she curled her fingers on his chest. “You are alive!”

  Rónán gave her hand a gentle squeeze, wanting to tell her how much he loved her. “W–why…” He cleared his throat. “Why would you think otherwise?”

  “One of the guards who fought with you as we were escaping rode back,” she choked out, “and explained you were surrounded by the Earl of Ardgar’s knights.”

  All this time she’d been terrified that he was dead. God’s truth. Never had he meant to cause her such pain. “Knights I managed to evade for two days until I was trapped on the cliffs.” He shoved back the surge of emotion. “’Twas where Lord Dunsmore and his men, along with Bran’s, found me after they seized Murchadh Castle.”

  Lord Torridan shook his head. “’Tis hard to believe!”

  “Aye.” Tears pooled in Lathir’s eyes. “Are you hurt?”

  Tenderness filled Rónán. “Naught of importance.”

  With a bluster, Bran swaggered forward. “He almost died, but the lad is too ornery.”

  Lord Torridan cleared his throat, and Rónán was shocked to see emotion welling on the powerful lord’s face. Why? He’d overheard that Kieran was alive and well. “What is wrong?”

  “Naught. Everything is right,” the noble’s voice broke at the last as he dismounted, then stepped toward him. “You see, this night I learned that you arena Rónán O’Connor, but Dáire McKelan, my firstborn. A son I was told had died at birth.”

  His son? Rónán stared at the lord, whose height and build matched his own, struggled to accept his words. He glanced around, found his Templar brothers’ expressions ranging from shock to amazement much like, no doubt, what was reflected on his face.

  Though he wished ’twas true as it would grant him the dream of a family, of being wanted, he refused to lie. “I dinna know why you believe such,” Rónán forced out, “but ’tis untrue. I am an orphan.”

  “Nay,” Torridan stated, his voice rough with emotion. “You were stolen moments after your birth by my healer. Your lineage is proven by your birthmark.”

  Rónán frowned. “My birthmark?”

  A fragile smile danced on Lathir’s lips as her tear-filled eyes brightened. “On the outside of your upper thigh. Show him.”

  Stephan, as the other Templars, crowded in.

  ’Twas absurd. Heat swept Rónán’s face as within the waver of golden torchlight, he lowered his trews slightly, exposing the uneven brown patch of skin like a smeared line a thumb’s width, the end fading into a curl.

  Pride on his face, Lord Torridan pushed down the garb covering his own thigh, exposing the familiar symbol. “’Tis a birthmark all within the McKelan family share.”

  Gasps and excited murmurs erupted around them.

  Mind reeling, with the evidence undeniable, Rónán secured his garb and stared at the man who had sired him. “Father?” he whispered, the word he’d never believed he’d ever say, rough on his tongue.

  “Aye.” After repairing his garb, with shaky steps, Lord Torridan embraced his son.

  Joy surged through Rónán as he returned the hug. Dáire, his name was Dáire. All the horrific memories of the vile man who’d abused him faded beneath his father’s love, and the fact that he had a family.

  “I love you, my son. Welcome home.” Clearing his throat, Lord Torridan’s arm around his son’s shoulders, he faced the others. “I am honored this day to present my oldest son, Dáire McKelan!”

  Cheers filled the air.

  “Never—” Rónán swallowed the surge of emotion. “Never did I believe this day would come.”

  In the torchlight, tears ran down his father’s cheeks. “Nor I, my son. Nor I.”

  Chest tight with emotion, Dáire turned to Lathir, with but one wish left.

  As if reading his mind, his father smiled. “As firstborn, ’tis your duty to end the tension between the realms of Tír Sèitheach and Tír Connail, which means—”

  “I must wed Lord Sionn’s daughter.” Heart pounding, Dáire strode over, knelt before her, and took her hand. “I love you, Lathir. You have stolen my heart, and I canna live without you. Marry me. I would be proud to be your husband.”

  “And I,” she said, her eyes shimmering with love, “your wife.”

  A fresh round of cheers erupted as he stood and swept her into his arms with a heated kiss.

  As the shouts died down once he stepped back, his father nodded. “Come, let us return to the castle. You and the others will be hungry and weary. And,” he said with a warm smile to Dáire, “on the morrow, we have a wedding to plan.”

  Dáire laced his fingers with Lathir’s. Aye, let them return. He was more than anxious to wed the woman he loved.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A fortnight later, with Lathir at his side and surrounded by his friends, Dáire took in the crowd gathered in the great room of Wynshire Castle for their wedding.

  Lathir smiled up at him. Her golden hair was plaited with a weave of silver, the adornment complementing the silver torque clasping an emerald at the base of her throat.

  Memories warmed him as he glided the tip of his finger along the honed silver. “You were wearing this when we met.”

  Her eyes misted. “You remembered.”

  “There is naught about you that I could ever forget.” He claimed her mouth in a tender kiss, then skimmed his thumb against the curve of her jaw as he drew back. “More so as our first meeting was with your sgian dubh at my neck.”

  “A memory I shall forever carry.” Mirth twinkled in her eyes. “Mayhap the reason you look a bit dazed?”

  He laced his fingers with hers. “How can I not be? In but a few weeks my life has changed, and this day, you and I will wed. And as if that was not enough, I have a family.”

  “One that loves you very much.”

  “’Tis as if,” he breathed as his heart squeezed tight, “a wish granted.”

  Laughter sounded from the front of the large chamber.

  Dáire glanced up. Paces away, Máire stood beside Tighearnán as Órlaith, seated on her father’s hip, was chuckling at something Bran had said.

  “Nor was my wish the only one that came true,” he said as he smiled at the small crown askew on Órlaith’s head, remembering how Tighearnán had teased Lathir that his daughter would be asking for a princess crown. “’Twould seem you granted the lass hers as well.”

  Tenderness filled Lathir’s eyes. “A small token. The gift naught compared to finding Máire alive.”

  He nodded, skimmed his thumb against her palm. “Tighearnán told me that except for sleep, Órlaith hasna left her mother’s side since her return.”

  “Nor can I blame the lass.” She arched her brow. “Why are you smiling?”

  Dáire shook his head. “Shortly after we first arrived at Wynshire Castle, I remember seeing one of your maids with Tighearnán. From the way they spoke privately, I believed Tighearnán had found more than a woman in his life, but a mother for Órlaith.�
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  When,” she said with a laugh, “all the while ’twas my maid who was taken with Bran and sought out Tighearnán to learn more about his friend.”

  “Indeed. ’Twould seem Bran is equally taken. After meeting you, I know how he feels. Nor did his good fortune end there. ’Twas wonderful to see the surprise on his face at the arrival of the Bruce’s missive, commanding that Bran be knighted for his service to his king.”

  “A well-deserved honor,” Lathir said, “One my father was proud to fulfill.”

  Laughter echoed from the back of the celebratory crowd.

  Aching to touch her, wanting her alone, wanting her in his bed, Dáire claimed her mouth in a deep kiss. Blood pounding hot, he drew back. That time would arrive soon after their vows.

  “Nor have the blessings ended there,” he said. “I still shake my head that your father as well as mine gifted us with Murchadh Castle, and I with the title of Earl of Ardgar stripped from the previous lord.”

  Pride shimmered on her face. “A decision our king sanctioned. And with Lord Dunsmore and his Templars bringing the arms to King Robert, I am confident the weapons will make their journey safely.”

  “And be used to finally bring all of Scotland beneath King Robert’s rule.” Dáire frowned. “A fight that I fear will take many more years, one that could come to a head at Bannockburn, or another strong Scottish foothold.”

  Lines of worry creased her brow. “I pray it doesna last that long.”

  “As I,” Dáire agreed.

  “Let us talk no further of war this day.”

  “Aye.” Throat tight, bursting with pride, Dáire looked at his fellow Templar knights, Stephan MacQuistan, Earl of Dunsmore; Sir Thomas MacKelloch, Earl of Kincaid; Sir Aiden MacConnell, Earl of Lennox; and Sir Cailin MacHugh, Earl of Dalkirk; loyal men he’d fought with over the years. Brave men with whom he’d sailed from France after King Philip’s betrayal.

  When they’d reached Scotland less than two years before, never could any of them have imagined they’d be standing together not only bound by the Brotherhood, but as nobles, men who were blessed with incredible women they loved.

  “But celebrate—” Lathir said, drawing him from his musings as she pressed a soft kiss on his mouth, lingered with slow, devastating intent. Eyes dark with desire, she drew back. “That you willna have to leave.”

  “God’s truth,” he whispered in a rough hiss, “I should haul you upstairs to our chamber right now and—”

  The priest cleared his throat as he stepped before them.

  Lathir’s eyes danced with mischief before she faced the priest.

  Bloody hell, the lass knew she was driving him mad. Nor did he mind. This night he would find sweet satisfaction in giving back, teasing her, until they both found their release, only to begin again.

  “We are here before God’s eyes to unite Dáire McKelan, Earl of Ardgar, and Lady Lathir McConaghy.” Wrapping a woven green silk ribbon around Dáire’s wrist, then Lathir’s, the cleric regaled a passage of faith, loyalty, and love. As he finished, he made a knot. Face beaming with joy, the priest raised their bound hands. “I now pronounce you man and wife!”

  Cheers roared within the great hall, the force making the golden chalices and flagons of bronze and silver upon the dais tremble.

  The love in Dáire’s eyes filled Lathir. “I love you, my husband.”

  “And I love you.” He claimed her mouth. Cheers again swept the room, but the voices faded as she sank into the kiss, let his touch, his taste fill her. With him ’twould always be so.

  After accepting congratulations from all within the chamber, Dáire found himself anxious to be with his wife. He leaned close, whispered in her ear, “I am not a patient man.”

  Her eyes darkened with desire. “What I am counting on.” She shot a glance toward the turret. “Do you think they would notice if we slipped away?”

  Dáire gave her a dry look, then swept her up in his arms. “My lady wife, with the Brotherhood in attendance, any who tried to stop us would be a fool.”

  “Then, my husband,” she said with a saucy wink, “’tis time we take our leave.”

  He took her hand, and they sprinted toward the stairs. Once he reached the second-floor corridor, the shouts below demanding their return growing louder, he set her down. “Run!”

  Moments later, he slammed and barred the door as Lathir held her sides, laughing. Her laughter faded as he drew her close, backed her against the door, then trapped her body with his. As he locked her wrists over her head, the need in his gaze ignited a matching ache inside her.

  “I believe before our vows you meant to tempt me to distraction,” he breathed as he pressed slow kisses along her jaw, down her neck. “A dangerous move.”

  Her entire body burned, but she enjoyed his teasing, savored the way he made her feel. Still, never had a man touched her, and whispers of the joining were far from the reality of this moment.

  “I have never been with a man,” she admitted, holding his gaze.

  “I know and swear that I will be slow, take you with naught but love in my heart.” Dáire took his time, and true to his word, used his hands and mouth in a slow, tantalizing journey, leaving them both wild with need. At what moment he’d released her, carried her to their bed, stripped her as himself, she wasna sure, a sense of fulfillment coursing through her as she welcomed him into her body.

  Lathir moved with him, his every stroke, whispers of love, taking her higher, making her mind spin until she exploded, his cry of release following hers.

  As he collapsed atop her, breath coming fast, she pushed on his chest.

  With a chuckle, he rolled with her onto his back.

  Instead of curling in his arms, she shoved to her knees and straddled him, his full length still deep within her heat.

  Grayish-green eyes darkened with confusion. “What are you doing?”

  A slow smile curved her mouth. “This.” She lifted her body, took all of him.

  * * * *

  Hours later, as the first rays of sunlight painted the skies in soft wisps of gold, Lathir lay her head against Dáire’s shoulder, never feeling so complete. Aye, he may have discovered his family, but she’d found a man she could respect, build a home and have children with, and most of all, love. Aye, as he’d said before their wedding, ’twas indeed as if a wish were granted, one she’d cherish forever.

  Author’s note

  Regardless whether hundreds of years have passed, questions remain of where the Knights Templar fled, what treasure they took, and how so many valiant knights were able to disappear without a trace. As a major plotter in The Forbidden Series, I enjoyed weaving my characters’ journeys, where they face challenges and in the end fall in love, around these mysteries. I also include my speculation as to where the Templar fleet and many of the Brotherhood could have escaped to prior to the arrests beginning in France on the 13th of October 1307.

  Sincerely,

  Diana Cosby

  AGC(AW) USN, Ret.

  www.dianacosby.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A retired Navy Chief, AGC (AW), Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, appeared at Lady Jane’s Salon NYC, in Woman’s Day, on Texoma Living! Magazine, USA Today’s romance blog, “Happily Ever After,” and MSN.com.

  After retiring from the navy, Diana dove into her passion—writing romance novels. With thirty-four moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. Diana looks forward to the years ahead of writing and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.

  Diana Cosby, International Bestselling Author

  www.dianacosby.com

  FORBIDDEN KNIGHT

  Deep within Scotland, a healer and a
warrior join forces to protect Scotland’s future . . .

  There is an intruder in the woods near King Robert Bruce’s camp, but when Sir Thomas MacKelloch comes face-to-face with the interloper, he is shocked to discover his assailant is a woman. The fair lady is skilled with a bow and arrow and defiant in her responses. The wary Knight Templar dare not allow her beauty to lower his guard. Irritated by his attraction, he hauls her before his sovereign to expose her nefarious intent.

  Outraged Sir Thomas dismissed her claim, Mistress Alesone MacNiven awaits the shock on the arrogant knight’s face when he learns that she has told the truth. But it is she who is shocked, and then horrified, as it is revealed that her father, the king’s mortal enemy, has betrothed her to a powerful noble, a deal that could jeopardize the king’s efforts to unite Scotland. Robert Bruce orders Sir Thomas to escort Alesone to safety. As they embark on a harrowing journey through the Highlands, Alesone tries to ignore her attraction to the intimidating warrior, but as she burns beneath Thomas’s kiss she realizes this fearless knight could steal her heart.

  FORBIDDEN LEGACY

  A betrothal neither wants . . . a passion neither can resist.

  When the English murder Lady Katherine Calbraith’s family, she refuses their demands to wed an English noble to retain her home. Avalon Castle is her birthright, one she’s determined to keep. After Katherine’s daring escape, she’s stunned when Scotland’s king agrees to allow her to return to Avalon, but under the protection of Sir Stephan MacQuistan . . . as the knight’s wife. To reclaim her heritage, Katherine agrees. She accepts her married fate, certain that regardless of the caliber of the man, Stephan may earn her trust, but he’ll never win her love.

  One of the Knights Templar, Stephan desires no bride, only vengeance for a family lost and a legacy stolen. A profound twist of fate tears apart the Brotherhood he loves, but offers him an opportunity to reclaim his legacy—Avalon Castle. Except to procure his childhood home along with a place to store Templar treasures, he must wed the unsuspecting daughter of the man who killed his family. To settle old scores, Stephan agrees, aware Katherine is merely a means to an end.