TWO WEEKS LATER, SHAY stood in the middle of the living room of their new home, looking down at Bann, sprawled on his back on the floor amidst a dozen unpacked boxes. An oriental throw rug, an early house-warming-gift-cum-wedding-gift from Sean and Jenny, still smelling like a department store, cushioned him from the wooden floor. One arm was flung across his eyes, shielding them from the morning sun shining through the east windows.
I’d join him if I didn’t have so much to do. Shay thought back to everything they had accomplished in the last two weeks—all three of them recovering from battle, selling and packing up their old home, and moving into their new one. And then had already spent the last two nights sleeping there. And, oh yeah, just to keep life from getting too boring, planning a wedding. Her heart gave a little hop-skip at the thought that tomorrow evening was their joining. Thank the Goddess we’re keeping it simple and traditional. How human couples manage their elaborate ceremonies is beyond me.
She sighed and made a face at the boxes scattered around the room. Okay. Last big chore. I need to get my new workroom set up as soon as possible. I never know when someone might need me.
The two of them had been relocating Shay’s apothecary workroom from their old house to their new one since dawn, using both vehicles and moving as quickly as they could, on Shay’s insistence that she didn’t want to be out of commission as a Healer any longer than necessary.
“Bann.” She stepped closer and nudged him in the ribs with her toe. “Help me carry the boxes to the kitchen. Then you can have the rest of the day off.”
“You said that yesterday,” Bann said from behind his arm. Pink scars, looking like ogham runes, decorated the flesh. “And the day before that. And, if I’m not mistaken, every day for the last ten or so days.” He lowered the limb and looked up at her. “I didn’t know I was marrying a tyrant.”
“Well, now you do. Up and at ’em, big guy.”
“Help me?” He held out his hand. When she took it, he pulled her down instead. Pillowing her body on his, he reached up and tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. “You know, Cor will be gone all day, playing with Neill while Jenny and your mother help Ann and Hugh with the preparations. We’re all alone.” He tightened his arms around her, fingers stroking her neck and his eyes drooping in a way that always sent a thrill down her stomach and into her loins.
She took a moment to kiss him, lightly at first, then deeper, enjoying the scent of man sweat and the lingering traces of the various herbs from her apothecary collection on his hands. Before either of them escalated it into what Bann was fond of calling a “round the house and mind the dresser” romp, Shay pulled back. Reluctantly. Very reluctantly.
“As much as I’m tempted, we agreed to wait.”
“We did?”
“Yeah, we did. In fact, it was you who said we should wait until our wedding night to make love for the first time in our new home.”
“Why, I must have been still feverish with the shapeshifter’s poison when I said such a foolish thing.”
“It was just last week.”
“Oh.” Screwing up his face in an expression that was so Cor, he added, “Please, darlin’?”
“Nope.”
“Cruel.”
“Trust me—it’ll be worth the wait.” She jumped up, then grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. “Once we’re done here, we can relax the rest of the day.” She picked up the nearest box and headed for the kitchen. Glass clinked softly from the container filled with bottles of salves and potions.
Bann followed with two more. As he went back and forth, playing bearer, Shay took a moment to gaze around the kitchen. While furnished with modern appliances, the room was old-time cozy with oak cabinets, sage-green tiles on the countertops, and dark tile floors. The window over the farmhouse sink looked into the back yard and beyond to the forested foothills. Their round kitchen table sat off to one side of the spacious area. A short peninsula separated the kitchen from what was becoming the heart of the house—a family room with a fireplace. Built-in bookshelves, already half-filled, framed the fireplace that boasted handcrafted tiles in the same sage green as the kitchen. French doors led out to the redwood deck in the back yard.
On the opposite end of the kitchen, however, was Shay’s pride and joy—her apothecary. She carried the box through a narrow doorway and into a pantry that was twice the size of her old one. It was furnished with a sink and a long counter that stretched the length of the room on one side, and floor to ceiling shelves on the other. She placed the box on the counter and began unpacking the bottles.
Bann appeared in the kitchen, balancing three boxes in his arms. He lowered them carefully onto the closest counter, then dusted his hands on his shirt and joined her. “That’s the last of them.” He looked around. “Can I help you in here?”
“Nah—I’ve got this. But I’m dying for some coffee. We’ve been going since dawn.”
“Well, we were under a time limit, since the new owners are taking possession at noon. We were fortunate your house—”
“Our house.”
“—our house was in such a desirable neighborhood.” Bann ran a hand along the nearest shelf, examining the workmanship. “This is a fine place we have, Shay Doyle. I’m eager to begin our new life here. In this place. With you and Cor and our future children. And to support you in your role as our Healer so you are fulfilled as a person and a woman.”
Shay smiled at him, unable to speak around the sudden lump in her throat. Could I love this man any more than I do? Aw, he is the best—
“I read that speech in a magazine I found at Ann’s,” he said proudly.
A knock on the front door. They looked at each other.
“I’ll see to it. You keep working.” Bann disappeared. A few moments later, Shay could hear Hugh speaking to Bann as they walked back into the kitchen. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she stepped out of the pantry.
Hugh carried a tray of steaming Starbucks cups. “I thought you would enjoy some refreshment.” He set the tray on the table. “And I’ve a bit of news for you two. Nothing dire,” he added hastily.
The three gathered around the table. Shay peeled the lid off and inhaled the aroma before taking an appreciative sip. “You just saved my life, Uncle.” She took another sip.
“What is your news, Hugh?” Bann asked.
The clan leader leaned back in his chair. “I spoke with Toryn Mull again this morning.”
“Is he still pissed at you?” Shay asked.
Hugh shrugged and slurped his own coffee. “He has a reason to be. As high chieftain of the clans in this region, he has the right to know if any are on the edge of war. Toryn Mull is a fair and honorable man. While he holds the autonomy of each clan sacred, he also knows that the surest way to divide us as a people is to allow for inter-tribal warfare. It almost destroyed us in the old country. He does not want to see it happen here. So, yes, he is a bit cheesed off with me for not letting him know the situation was escalating.”
“Well, it’s not like we had time to stop and make a call,” Shay pointed out. “And he should be just as mad at the Tullys, too.”
“If Weston Tully was alive, then he would be standing neck deep in the same bog with me,” Hugh said. “Which is why I’ve come this morning.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bann tense. Before she could ask, he shook his head.
“I’ve already said no, Hugh Doyle. I do not wish to be clan leader. Especially not of that clan. Let them choose a leader from among their own members.”
“It’s not that. Well, it is, but not exactly,” Hugh said with a wry expression. “It seems the other clans in the region, worried about what almost happened between the Doyles and Tullys, have petitioned Toryn Mull to formally ask you, Bann. Many of the clan leaders feel it will give a sense of unity and cohesion to all the Tuatha Dé Danaan in the area. Mull agrees; in fact, he would like to meet with you face to face to discuss it.”
“No.” Ban stared down at his coffee. “I do not want that. I have never wanted that.”
Worry worms squirmed in Shay’s stomach. She was pretty sure she knew what they were saying, but… “You’re talking about Bann taking the crown.”
“Aye. The clans are requesting that this fine man here move from Knight to king.” A grin split Hugh’s beard. “Makes him sound a bit like a chess piece.”
“And in chess, the queen protects the king.” The old expression flitted through Shay’s head. “We already said no. Bann doesn’t want to be king, and I for sure don’t want to be a queen.” Frustration poked her. “And nice of everyone to dump this shit on us the day before our wedding.”
“Now, don’t get your Irish up with me, lass.” Hugh wagged a finger. “I already told Toryn Mull that it would have to wait until after your handfasting. After all, there is no rush—we’ve not had a king for a thousand years, not since the reign of Brian Boru. A week or so more shouldn’t matter.” Hugh snapped the lid back on his coffee and rose. “Speaking of such, I best go help my own bride. Later this evening for the rehearsal, right? Then I’ll see myself out.” He started for the doorway, then paused. “I would not brush this aside so quickly. ’Tis an honor our people are offering to the both of you.”
And a burden, Shay thought. She forced a smile of farewell as her uncle left. They sat in silence even after the front door closed with a soft thud. Peeking out of the corner of her eye, she caught the telltale crease between Bann’s brows, his lips pressed thin.
I know what that means. He’s struggling between doing the right thing and doing the right thing by this family. She wasn’t surprised when he quietly excused himself and walked out the back door. Rising to her feet, she glanced out the kitchen window before heading back to her shop. As she continued to unpack, she tried to ignore the twinge of guilt.
Being a Healer means ye surrender a portion of yer personal life for the good of the clan. Are ye willing to do that, Shay Doyle? The voice of her old master spoke in her head. But if ye are willing, ye should know that the joy of helping yer people outweighs, by a hundredfold, that which ye have sacrificed.
“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, and yanked open the top flap on another box.
Bann closed the French door behind him. Even in the warmth of the mid-morning sun, the chill of the late November day made him wish he was wearing more than just a long-sleeved Henley. Hands tucked into his jean pockets, he stepped to the edge of the redwood deck, lingering in a patch of full sunlight as he stared over the fence and into the trees. He could not shake Hugh’s words.
I only wish to be a common man. A Knight of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. Busy with raising a family, teaching my sons and daughters to hunt our ancient foes, and loving my wife until we go to our long sleep, side by side, under a cairn of stone.
A sense of unfairness swept through him. And haven’t I already sacrificed enough just by being the long-son of the Boru? Now that our family curse has been laid to rest, do I not deserve some happiness?
The door opened. A moment later, Shay’s warm arms wrapped around him.
“If you’re worried about my decision,” he said before she could ask, “then there is no need. I stand by what I said earlier—I will not be king.”
“Are you sure that’s the right decision?”
He blinked in surprise. “But I thought you didn’t…”
“I still don’t. But maybe we should take time to think this through. Make the best decision for everyone involved, not just us.”
He turned in her arms and wrapped his own around her. “Why does the best decision seem like the one neither of us wants?” He gazed down at her. Even with her hair disheveled, a smudge of newsprint on her chin from the newspapers they’d used to cushion the breakables, and a frown line between her brows, her wholesome loveliness still took his breath away. She would make a beautiful queen. And not just on the outside.
“I don’t know,” she said, then gave him a little shake. “But let’s not allow this decision to overshadow our special day tomorrow. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
They sealed their resolution with a kiss.