Forgotten Fate (Sisters of Danu Book 3), page 24
As the horses climbed up the final hill that then descended back down onto the coast, the silhouetted figures of horses, men, and camp sites all melded together against the horizon like moving black shadows against the shore. Men spanned the edge of the ocean as far as the eye could see. Scores of soldiers from tuatha across the land of Ériu, along with the forces that Tuathal had brought with him out of exile in Alba, scattered across the beach. They had made it, and based upon the sight before them, their army had a fair chance of outnumbering Elim’s.
“Tis so many warriors!” Aislin’s mouth gaped open at the swarm of men as they traveled at a slow trot closer to the masses.
“Aye, and you will not dare to stray away from me, lass,” Garreth growled. “These men may be our allies, but many have not seen a woman in a moon or more.” Aislin looked scandalized as she pulled her cloak around her chest and held it tightly with one hand while her other hand held the reigns.
Amongst the many small leather tents and other blankets rolled out on the sand, one large tent stood out in relief against the others. It was three times the size and twice as tall, portraying the power of the man who resided within. Knowing it belonged to only one man, Garreth, Brocc, and Liam led their family through the fray of warriors, intent on meeting their leader. The women rode behind them, with Brennain, Flynn, and Eoin securing their backs.
Soldiers, kings, and servants alike parted as they passed, eyes locking on the three sisters riding parallel to one another, their faces identical but their different shades of hair giving away their identity. “Tis the Sisters of Danu!” a voice shouted above the crowd. “They arrive!”
A loud buzz of excitement filled the air. The sisters looked quizzically at one another, never having expected so much interest in their arrival. As their party approached the large tent that must belong to Tuathal Techtmar, three warriors exited the tent in a single file line, long lime-bleached blonde hair tied back in perfect queues with large spears and matching large red shields. The men lined up and slammed their spears into the sand as they bowed their heads in welcome.
Just as the three kings dropped down from their mounts and went to help their wives dismount, a large man came through the flap of the tent. Even without ever having met the man, there was no doubt about his identity. He was taller and a stronger than any other man on the beach. His muscular physique was covered by a red linen shirt under a flowing fur lined cloak, pinned with a large solid gold circular brooch. Atop his already massive shoulders lay fur pelts, a sign of royalty and wealth.
His hair was wavy and shoulder length, the dark brown locks blowing with the ocean breeze that stood in relief behind him, only adding to his majesty. His eyes glared out at the newly arrived party, their deep blue depths shining brighter than the very seas he had sailed to arrive back to his native land.
A small smirk spread across his lips. He had a short beard, only a few days’ worth of growth that graced his strong jaw with a small cleft at its base. “Greetings,” he boomed in a very deep, authoritative voice as he stepped forward. His sword was sheathed at his hip, jewels gleaming upon its hilt. “The gods have called you to my aid, and upon seeing you, I can understand why,” he said with a steady smile as he put out a hand.
The men clasped forearms with their new leader and brought their wives forward to be introduced. Tuathal smiled widely and graced the Sisters of Danu with a flourishing bow as he delicately brought their hands to his youthful lips. “Tis an honor to not only meet you, but to have you by my side.” For a man of only twenty summers, he had a powerful presence. Though he had lived in exile since he was born, it was clear to all who lay eyes upon him that he had been raised to be a leader and a warrior amongst men. This was his destiny, the moment he had trained for all his life.
Elim Mac Conrach had left Ériu in shambles, filled with dead crops and starving villages for too many years. It was time for Tuathal to take what was rightfully his, the throne his father and rightful High King, Fiachu Finnolach, had died to defend. Liam was proud to stand beside him and fight for the future of his native land.
“Welcome to our camp. Please settle in. I have business to tend to, but I look forward to speaking with you all tonight.” With a firm nod, Tuathal turned to leave, but stopped in mid-step as he took in an inward breath, staring at something behind Liam. Liam looked at Tuathal curiously. The huge man, who just a moment ago had everyone in awe, was staring at something gape-mouthed, suddenly unable to speak.
“Who is that lass?” he finally whispered, pointing to someone and Liam turned his head over his shoulder to follow Tuathal’s determined gaze.
“Who? I see only my daughter.” Liam shrugged and turned back to stare at Tuathal. The man had suddenly gone mad. There was no other lass behind Liam, beside Leannan who, as usual, tried to make herself as small as possible and avoid everyone’s gaze.
“Your daughter?” Tuathal narrowed his eyes at his target, then looked swiftly back at Liam. “Aye, I see it now. She has your eyes.” Tuathal looked back over Liam’s shoulder and placed his hands on his hips. “You, lass. What is your name?”
Liam turned again, except this time he swiveled his body to better look at Leannan. She had finally looked up from her twiddling fingers at the sound of Tuathal’s commanding voice. Her eyes grew wide and she chewed on her bottom lip while she looked over her shoulder, seeking out the lass whom Tuathal had addressed. When she realized there was nobody else behind her, she looked down again and nervously tucked a blonde wave behind her ear.
Finally understanding who Tuathal was asking about, Liam cleared his throat and stepped over to Leannan, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. He was not certain why Tuathal showed such a sudden and intense interest in his daughter, but High King or no, Liam would not allow Tuathal to intimidate her.
“I am afraid my daughter is quite shy,” Liam explained. “This is Leannan. Leannan, show respect to your king,” he whispered patiently in her ear.
At her father’s reminder of her manners, she whispered, “My apologies, my king,” as she kept her head down and graced him with an elegant curtsy. When she rose, her head lifted slightly and she dared to peek at Tuathal through her thick veil of black lashes. Tuathal’s smug smile faltered as he got a better view of her fair features.
Liam felt himself tense slightly at Tuathal’s reaction. He knew his daughters were rare beauties. He had seen enough men react to them in such a manner. He had not, however, expected to find his future ruler to be so suddenly enamored by one of them. Liam grunted and ran a frazzled hand through his hair. Could he not have more than a few days pass without a new man clamoring for one of his daughters?
Leannan kept her face downcast, clearly unsure about Tuathal’s sudden interest. “Leannan.” Tuathal smoothly spoke her name, as if trying it out on his tongue and finding it very satisfactory. “Tis a beautiful name for a beautiful lass.” When Leannan still did not look up at Tuathal, he curled a finger under her chin, gently urging her to raise her face to his. When her cobalt eyes locked with his, he let out a deep rumbling breath as they stood staring in awe of one another. All too swiftly, she cast her eyes down again, a rosy blush overcoming her cheeks as she nervously nipped on her bottom lip.
Liam groaned as he stood back and watched Tuathal rake his gaze over Leannan. The man was brazen, Liam would give him that. If one finger on the man’s hand went astray, Liam would find himself at war with the very man he had sworn to go to war for.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon,” Tuathal whispered, swallowing audibly. Those sweet words, spoken in the deep rumbling voice of this hugely intimidating man, made Leannan’s blush deepen, but she kept her head down.
Liam cleared his throat, deciding to change the subject. He knew Leannan to by shy, but he had never seen her blush so much in all her life. “She and Alyson are twins and we have one more daughter, Treasa, who is recently married to Eoin, here,” he waved a hand toward his son by marriage. “But she was stolen away three days past by our enemy. We fear they hold her captive, but for what purpose, we know not.”
Eoin strode forward with purpose. “Pardon, my king,” he said with another respectful bow, “but I cannot live another day knowing that my wife is prisoner to the enemy. I am hoping to make haste and leave on the morrow, with or without support, to retrieve my wife.”
Tuathal looked from Eoin to Leannan once more, and then reluctantly turned away from her beauty to address this unforeseen complication with a growl of frustration. “This is definitely a surprise. Elim is full of those, as of late.” He grumbled as he tugged on the short hairs of his chin. “To abduct the daughter of my most powerful ally is a brazen move. But we will get her back,” he nodded to Eoin. “We are also ready to depart on the morrow, now that you have arrived. At dawn, we ride to Tara. Tis only a day’s travel, but we must stop for one night to gather our strength and regroup. The day after, we battle.” His voice was smooth and confident, as if war was no more than a hard day’s work to him.
Eoin nodded gratefully at his king and then strode toward his horse to unload his supplies. Tuathal glanced back at Leannan, who got caught staring at him and blushed even deeper than before, if possible, and abruptly turned her gaze toward the ocean.
Tuathal diverted his gaze to Liam. “This is the price you pay for having beautiful daughters, is it not? One has been taken by the pretender king, and another may be taken by her rightful king.” He raised a brow at Liam, sending a clear message of his intent. It was a bold move to speak such things to the lass’s father, but he was king and Liam knew he would use that to his benefit, if necessary, on this score. Leannan’s head popped up quickly at Tuathal’s proclamation and her cobalt eyed widened as she gasped, placing a hand on her chest in shock.
No man had ever been brave enough to speak such things about Leannan in Liam’s presence, much less directly to him. Somehow, as irritated as Liam was at Tuathal’s unabashed intent upon his daughter, he respected the man’s candor…as long as he kept his hands where Liam could see them.
Liam glanced over at Leannan’s increasingly reddening face, then back at Tuathal’s feral gaze locked on her. He needed to make Tuathal understand that he would not allow any foul play. “With all respect, my daughter’s innocence is still intact, and I intend for it to stay that way until the day she is wed.” Tuathal may be his king, but Liam would protect Leannan’s virtue against him, just as he had with all the other lads back home.
Tuathal broke his gaze and turned quickly on Liam. “She is promised to another?” His voice came out in a harsh whisper, almost as if he held back a growl.
“Nay, she is not.” Liam braced himself. His daughters were ever swarming with suitors, but he had never expected to see a flash of jealously in his High King’s eyes. He inwardly sighed. The man was about to enter a lethal combat to the death. Only one man would come out alive, Elim or Tuathal. And while his gut told him that Tuathal would be the victor, he could not allow Leannan to have hope of a marriage to a man who may be going to his death…if marriage was what Tuathal was seeking. Only time would tell, and Liam would keep his eye on the man in the meantime.
He wondered how Leannan felt about this man towering over her, boring his gaze into hers, speaking bold words of possession that Liam was certain no other lad had ever dared speak.
Tuathal nodded with acceptance and a corner of his mouth slightly raised. He looked at Leannan’s shocked face and chuckled. “Good.” He winked at her and began to walk away, his large, powerful legs bringing him back inside his tent.
Leannan looked warily up at Liam, clearly gauging his reaction. He just stood rooted in place, gaping at her and slowly shaking his head in disbelief.
“You lassies are going to be the death of me,” he sighed, “if this battle does not take me first.”
“I am happy to see how well you have taken to my son,” Elim said as he observed Treasa with scrutiny. “In the two days that you have been here, I can see the real affection you both share.” Elim glared in her eyes, seeking out a flicker of doubt in her features, but she only gave him her sweetest smile and wrapped her arms tightly around Jeoffrey’s waist.
“Aye, my king,” she said with a smile, “how glad I am that you stole me from my boring life.” Her voice was dripping with a sweet sarcasm, yet her face kept a pleasing smile as she looked up into Jeoffrey’s nervous features. He knew he was at her mercy. If she refused to play the role of the loyal wife or confessed that they had never consummated the marriage, his father would accuse him of failure.
“I knew that joining my son with a daughter of my enemy would not only unite two powerful families, but result in a happy union.” Elim looked smug, as if he was truly proud of forcing his son into stealing his bride.
Her mouth began to open, then shut again as she fought the ever-present urge to shout at her new father by marriage. He was truly mad, nay doubt about it. If she had thought Jeoff mad in the beginning, it was simply because he was being made to follow this mad man’s commands.
Jeoffrey looked down at Treasa as she began to retort. Just as she was about to lose her temper and tell the mad man what she really thought of him and his schemes, Jeoffrey gripped her tightly around the waist and spun her body against his, lowering his lips to hers and crushing her with a searing kiss. She began to fight and struggle beneath his lips, but realized quickly what he was doing. She was about to make a fatal mistake and speak her true mind to his father. He had just saved her from disaster. As much as this scam disgusted her, she had to comply.
The only comfort her heart could find was that Eoin and her family should be arriving soon, or so she prayed. Around the camp, she had heard that Tuathal’s forces would arrive within a day. Scores of men were in this camp set up near the Hill of Tara, where the Stone of Fal resided. It was said that the Stone of Fal was the fourth treasure of the Tuatha de Danann, brought with them as they took over Ériu nearly two thousand years previously. According to legend, the stone would vibrate and release a powerful humming sound across the land when the rightful High King touched it. It had never done so for Elim, but he dismissed it, claiming it as no more than a false legend.
As Jeoff’s mouth detached from hers, he bent over and swooped her up behind her knees, carrying her back to his tent and she heard his father laugh with pride as Jeoffrey strode away with his wife in his arms. He swiftly opened the tent flap and pushed her inside. “Are you mad?” he growled as he gently placed her back on her feet.
“Clearly not as mad as your father!” she shot back in a whispered shout.
“Aye, he is, which is why we must make him believe all is well with us, Treasa. If he thinks you an unwilling wife, he may dispose of you as soon as battle is done. If he believes that we have not consummated, he may push me aside and claim you for his own. And believe me, he will have nay problem forcing you.” He puffed with frustration and then walked up to her, grabbing her hands in his. “Believe it or not, Treasa, I have come to care about you a great deal. I want nay harm to come to you.”
She looked at their clasped hands, then into his serious eyes. “My thanks, Jeoffrey. All things considered, I have grown to trust you with my life.” She looked down again, wondering why she felt so attached to her captor. She would never love him, but she was beginning to regard him as a companion and decent human being. The only ill treatment he had given her, in the beginning, was by command of his father and she had seen the regret in his eyes every day since.
“Treasa,” he swallowed hard. “I should not say this...” He took a deep, slow breath as he squeezed her hands in his. “I love you.”
She began to reply in protest, struggling to pull her hands out of his grip, but he only shook his head and gripped her harder, “Nay, do not talk. I know you love Eoin. I accept that. I want to help you get back to him. When he arrives to claim you, we will find a way to disappear as I hand you over. My father will believe that you were stolen from me.”
Tears sprung in her eyes and she looked at him with a quivering chin. “You would do that for me, Jeoffrey? Truly?”
“Aye,” he said with a sad smile. “I cannot keep you this way, unhappy as my wife when your heart belongs to another. I cannot believe I ever thought this was a good plan. To think that you could have ever been happy here with me.” He shook his head in disgust. “As if a woman like you would want to be with a man like me, even if it does make you a queen.” He dropped her hands and turned away from her.
She yanked him back, forcing him to face her, and she ran her hand against his cheek. “Jeoffrey, you are a good man. You had so many chances to force me to your will, and you never did. You have protected me countless times. You are kind and honorable…aside from abducting me,” she giggled as he flinched at her words, “and, in truth, had I not already given my whole heart to Eoin, I could have been happy with you.” She gave him a smile, hoping he found comfort in her words because they were the truth. “Any woman would have you.”
A look of pain crossed his face at her words and Treasa suddenly remembered the story Alastar had told her about Clarice, Jeoffrey’s intended bride who had slept with his cousin and ran off to marry him. She wanted to soothe him and his pain, but stopped herself just in time. She was not sure if she was supposed to know so much about Jeoffrey’s past.
Jeoffrey’s face softened, clearly reading her thoughts. It suddenly occurred to her that Jeoffrey was aware of her in-depth knowledge of his past. “I know Alastar told you of Clarice,” he sighed. “I wanted to strangle him when he told me that he told you, but tis done and that is my past. Aye, I loved her. I had been left as an empty shell of a man after that day, never daring to fall in love again. When father suggested I steal the beautiful daughter of his enemy and force her to wed, it seemed ideal to me. I could marry a beautiful woman, make her my queen, and never need to worry about love. But I failed, and now I must let you walk away from me, into the arms of another man, just as Clarice did.”
