23

FIR BOLGS BOILED INTO the kitchen.

Bann whirled around, shoving Cor to the floor by the island as glass showered down. With a grunt, he buried his blade in the chest of the nearest Fir Bolg, punching through skin and bone and muscle with a satisfying pop. Yanking the knife free just in time, he ducked as another attacked with a spear. White-hot pain ripped through his bicep. His weapon flew from his hand, spinning past Shay’s head a few feet away. The Healer was backing into the living room, dueling knife to knife with a third Fir Bolg while Max was busy ravaging the legs of a fourth.

As the spearman lifted his weapon for the killing stroke, Bann lowered his shoulder and plowed into the assailant. The Fir Bolg’s feet left the ground; sailing through the air, he crashed onto the kitchen table. It collapsed beneath him, trapping one of his arms. The spear fell from his hand.

“Dad!”

Still on the floor next to the island, Cor scrambled for the spear. One-handed, he sent it skidding across the tile toward his father. His other hand still clutched his switchblade.

Bann snatched it up. Leaping on top of the downed Fir Bolg before he could roll away, the Knight stomped on the creature’s wrist. A wet snap, then a shriek. Eyeing the enemy writhing beneath him, Bann raised the spear, then hesitated. Something niggled at him. Something about the creature seemed familiar.

It was the Fir Bolg that had hurt and terrified his son.

The sheer ecstasy of planting the point of the spear in the creature’s eye with a moist pop—the right eye, to be sure—made Bann laugh aloud. He leaned on the weapon, pinning the Fir Bolg’s skull to the table’s remains. The creature shuddered, legs kicking, then stilled. Two other Fir Bolgs bolted for the broken door, one of them dragging a ravaged leg from Max’s attack. They clawed at each other in their haste to be the first one out. Before Bann could free the spear and skewer another, they disappeared into the darkness. Cursing, he spun around at the sound of Shay shouting to Max.

The Healer wove around the living room in a macabre flamenco with the Fir Bolg, their knives flashing in the light of the fire. Max danced attendance, jaws snapping like castanets at the creature who dared attack a member of his pack.

Before Bann could move, Max clamped down on the creature’s calf. With a jerk of his head, the dog tore a chunk out. He skipped to one side, blood dripping from the piece of Fir Bolg he held in his jaw. With a sneeze, he spat it out.

Screaming, the Fir Bolg lunged for Max.

The scream was cut short when Shay buried her blade in the back of his neck, using both hands to thrust it deep inside of his skull. The tip popped out of his mouth. With a moist sucking sound, the creature slipped off her knife and crumpled to the floor.

For a long minute, the three of them stared at each other, panting. Rising, Cor joined his father, one arm snaking around the man’s leg. Bann patted his son’s back, grimacing at the crimson handprint he left on the boy’s shirt.

Shay blew her hair out of her eyes and pointed at Bann’s bleeding arm. “You okay?”

“Aye.” Disentangling himself from his son with a word of comfort, he dug his truck keys out of his pocket. “We are leaving. Yer home offers little protection for us now.” The wind moaned through the shattered windows and door. But where to go?

“We’ll go to Hugh’s. His home is über-warded.”

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Read my thoughts.”

Shay shrugged. “I’m a woman. It’s what we do.”

That you are. “Ye’re a right fine warrior as well. Glad I am to have ye fighting by me side.”

“Any time. Listen, we should take my SUV. Your truck is still hooked up to the camper. It’ll only slow us down.”

“Agreed.” He led the way to the front door. As Shay tucked Cor behind her, Bann eased the door open. Snow blew in. “Max.” The dog bounded out, disappearing into the blizzard. A few minutes later, he returned, tail wagging an all clear.

Punching the remote sitting on the entryway table next to Shay’s purse, he waited until the garage door finished its slow rise. As the foursome hurried down the steps and around to the SUV, Bann’s eyes swept the area, the skin on his neck prickling in anticipation.

“I’ll drive.” Shay jumped into the driver’s seat, revving the engine. Deciding to not argue with a woman who was carrying a knife as big as his own, Bann herded Cor and Max into the backseat, then climbed in the passenger side.

Shay raced through the deserted streets, the headlamps forming two funnels of light that barely pierced the blizzard. The wipers backhanded the powder, which was doing its best to blind them. With the confidence of a Rocky Mountain native, she attacked the snow-packed roads with the same ferociousness she had exhibited in battle. After she fishtailed around another curve in the road, Bann snapped an order over his shoulder.

“Cor. Seatbelt. Now.”

Shay glanced in the rearview mirror with a grin. “Don’t worry, Cor. I’m a champion driver.”

A champion driver of what? Bann thought. Demolition derby?

Leaving the suburban neighborhood behind, they headed west along one of High Springs’ main roads. As they drove, Bann’s body thrummed from the residual adrenaline high. Shifting restless muscles, he cocked his head at an odd chittering behind him. Frowning, he swiveled around in his seat.

Cor was shaking so hard, his teeth were chattering together. Max was leaning against the boy as if seeking to comfort him by bodily warmth.

“Shay, stop.”

Without hesitation, she flipped on the emergency lights and pulled over, wipers squeaking. Even before the vehicle came to a stop, Bann hopped out, opened the back door, and unbuckled Cor’s belt. “Shove along there, son.” As the boy scooted over, crowding Max against the far door, Bann climbed in next to him. Wrapping an arm around the trembling body, he pulled Cor closer, cupping the boy’s chilled hands in one of his. Shay waited for a lone vehicle to pass her, then wheeled back out into the street.

“Dad?” Cor nestled closer.

“Son.”

“That F-Fir Bolg…”

Bann tensed. “What about it?” Did he recognize the creature?

“I thought I got first dibs.”

Apparently so. “My apologies. I’ll save you one next time. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Cor snuggled deeper into the cradle of his father’s arm and body, and let out a long, shuddering sigh. He reached out and stroked Max.

Bann’s eyes met Shay’s in the rearview mirror. She shook her head in admiration, then turned her focus back to the road.

His own body relaxed, taking the opportunity—the bastard—to remind him of the wound on his shoulder. Seeking to distract himself from the dull throbbing, Bann studied the back of Shay’s head as she drove. Her hair, tangled from the fight, fell loose around her shoulders; its color was Celtic gold. She is a shield-maiden in the truest sense of the word. For a brief moment, the memory of their kiss warmed him like a sip of aged whiskey.

Fifteen minutes later, Shay turned onto a side street. After a few blocks, it began climbing up into the foothills, curving around several switchbacks and passing large houses that gave way to enormous houses—the kind featured on the cover of Art & Architecture magazine—all situated on spacious wooded lots. “Hugh and Ann’s neighborhood,” she said over a shoulder.

Bann eyed the scattered mansions, most of them half-hidden behind walls and electronic gates. “James was not exaggerating about your aunt and uncle’s wealth.”

“No, he was not.”

After negotiating another turn with a slight skid, they pulled up in front of a pair of towering wrought-iron gates. Each was adorned with a Celtic knot overlaid with a stylized boar. A massive brick wall disappeared into the darkness on either side. Powering down her window, Shay leaned out and pushed a series of buttons on the gatepost’s keypad.

Cor straightened in his seat and peered through the windshield. “Are those pigs?” He pointed at the gates.

“Boars,” Shay corrected. “Some knights choose an animal that has special meaning to them as their symbol. It’s an ancient custom, not followed much anymore.” She drummed her fingers on the wheel. “Hmm. I think that was the right code.”

At that moment, the gates swung open. As they drove through, Bann glanced back, watching as the gates closed behind them automatically with a scarcely audible clang.

They followed the driveway as it snaked through the trees, lights flickering in and out of sight between heavy stands of pines decorated Christmas-like, thanks to the storm. The drive opened up to reveal a generous parking area now covered with snow. Beyond was a house large enough to fit two of Shay’s inside its walls. Timber frame architecture, complete with stone wainscoting and a slate tile roof, gave the home a mountain lodge feel, right down to the oversized front door carved with another Celtic knot. Bann studied the building. Make that three of Shay’s.

Cor gasped. “Are we staying here?”

“Yup.” Shay pulled to one side and turned off the engine. “Trust me. They’ve got lots of room.” At that, the front door opened in a flood of amber light. Arm in arm, Hugh and Ann appeared and waved them in. “It’s like the lord and lady of the manor welcoming home the Knights from battle,” she joked. Climbing down, she opened the back door closest to her and stepped aside as Max leaped out.

“Not far from the truth,” Bann murmured. After helping Cor out, he took his son’s hand and followed Shay as she hurried up the stone steps. The aroma of garlic and oregano and tomato sauce greeted him. Next to him, Cor sniffed hopefully.

“Céad mile fáilte to you,” Hugh called out. “A bit of trouble, eh?” He eyed Bann’s blood-soaked sleeve as he ushered them inside the high-ceilinged foyer. Oak timbers soared up two stories high, arching like tree boughs over their heads. “Fir Bolg?”

“And more.” Bann hesitated. “It concerns Quinn Tully.”

“Then it’s probably not good,” Ann said. “Can the tale wait?” At Bann’s nod, she pointed toward the wide stairs bisecting the house. “Then let Shay see to your injury—I’ll hold dinner. Shay, you know where everything is for guests? Then shoo.”

As Ann and Hugh disappeared with Cor toward the kitchen, Ann asking his son if he had had supper already and if he would care for lasagna, Bann followed the Healer up the stairs. He wondered if the spear had cut through his tattoo.

Reaching the upper corridor that stretched the width of the house, Shay pointed to the first of several doors. “You can have this one. We’ll put Cor next to you—there’s an adjoining bathroom between the two rooms. Or would you rather share a room with him?”

A less-than-honorable thought whisked through Bann’s head. “No, this arrangement will be fine. And might we let Max sleep with him? He’d want that, and it would comfort him.”

“Works for me. Cor can be the one to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to let him out.” She nodded toward the room across the hall from Bann’s. “I usually stay in this one when I spend the night.”

“Do you stay here often?”

“Not so much now, but a lot until I bought my own place. Hugh and Ann are like a second set of parents, especially since my dad died and Mom moved to Aspen to be closer to my brother. He has two kids, so she wanted to be near them. Do the whole grandmother-y thing.”

“As she should.”

“Well, since most of the first aid supplies are my bathroom, why don’t we…” Her voice trailed off as she waved a hand toward her room.

“Right.” He trailed along, waiting until she clicked on the bedside lamp. He glanced around. The cozy bedroom was decorated in keeping with the rest of the house, in subdued tans and blues, the furniture heavy and rustic and rather masculine for a girl. Best not say that to her. At her gesture, he followed her into the bathroom. Small but elegant, the room was well appointed, with creamy marble and polished chrome.

“Take off your shirt.” While Shay searched through a drawer in the vanity, Bann unbuttoned his shirt, watching her in the mirror while he undressed. She watched him right back.

His pulse kicked up a notch. A silent voice reminded him she had seen him naked not too long ago. Yes, but I was unconscious at the time, so I do not believe it counts. What it counted toward, he wasn’t sure. Peeling back the soaked sleeve, he winced when the material stuck to the wound. He eased it off bit by bit, then wadded up the shirt and dropped it to the floor. At a sign from Shay, he took a seat on the closed toilet lid.

With a gentle touch, she wiped his arm and shoulder clean, then began dabbing the gash with a salve made from sláinte nettle. “You won’t need stitches. I think a couple of butterfly bandages should do the trick.”

“And the tattoo?”

“Just missed it.” She leaned closer, running the ball of her thumb over the Celtic knot, tracing the lines, her breath ghosting through the hairs on his arm. “You know, considering how old this is, it’s still in really good shape. Just a few faint scars.”

“One could say the same”—he hitched in a breath when she pulled the edges of the wound closer and began applying the bandages—“about me.”

“True, that.”

As she worked, Bann noticed little things about her he had missed during that first kiss. I was a wee bit preoccupied. The arch of an eyebrow. The way she quirked a corner of her mouth in concentration. He found himself staring at her lips. When she poked the tip of her tongue out in concentration, a slow heat gathered in his belly.

His eyes moved down to her hands. Slender with lithe fingers, but strong from weapons training. He thought back to Elizabeth’s hands. They, too, had been elegant, but soft, made more for wielding a watercolor brush than a weapon. He sighed, recalling the last argument they had had, both spitting venom at each other. It had been just two days before Cernunnos had appeared and, with that single act, ripped his and Cor’s world apart.

His desire for Shay faded away. Just as well. We’re practically in the middle of a bleedin’ war, he thought, studying the wall above her head as she worked. But what about that kiss earlier? asked a voice in his head.What about it? ‘Twas a simple kiss. Nothing more, he responded. A bold lie, the voice mocked. He told the voice to shut up.

“What’s wrong?” Shay asked. “Your muscles just went all tight. Am I hurting you?”

Bann hesitated. “I was thinking about Elizabeth. And how she did not wish for Cor to learn to hunt. She felt the old ways were obsolete.” That I was obsolete.

“But not you.”

“Sorry?”

“You don’t think our old ways are outmoded.”

“No longer. In fact, recently, I’ve come to realize that I need to allow Cor the opportunity to follow our people’s tradition and go through an apprenticeship, and then become a Knight, if he so wishes. Although it’ll be difficult to send him away to train under another.”

Applying the last bandages, Shay snorted. “I think the word is heart-wrenching, not difficult. Not as close as you two are. There. All done.” She nudged Bann’s shirt with the toe of her shoe. “Let me see if I can find you one of Hugh’s. Be right back.”

Walking down the hall toward her aunt and uncle’s room, Shay breathed deeply, lengthening her stride and swinging her arms, hoping physical activity might steady her thoughts. Cool my jets. She wondered how half her brain could take pleasure in getting to know this man’s heart and soul, while the other half had enjoyed revisiting a body she had admired from the first. Where’s that Healer’s detachment I’m supposed to practice?

Speeding up, she tried not to think about his body. Tried not to think about the sculpted chest muscles under a mat of dark hair. The same dark hair that ran in a thin line from his navel and disappeared into his jeans. His shoulders, one graced with a tat, the other with an odd, jagged scar. And that mouth…

“Not the time nor the place, Shay Doyle,” she muttered to herself.

Entering the master bedroom, she headed to the closet and stepped inside, marveling as she always did over a storage area as large as her own bedroom. It had been a favorite place of hers when she and her brother and her cousins had played hide-and-seek as children during the many clan get-togethers. She rummaged through a shelf full of Hugh’s T-shirts and sweats. She plucked one from a stack and shook it out. No, not gray. Too boring. I want something to set off his eyes. Gods, what would I give to have lashes like those? Cor’s got them, too. He’s going to drive the girls crazy in just a few more years. She folded it back up and continued her search, wondering why she was even spending this much mind space on a frikkin’ T-shirt. Locating just the right shade, she grabbed it when another color caught her eye. “Hmm.” With a sudden grin, she snagged them both, then hurried back.

Bann was still seated when she stepped into the room, eyelids closed, lashes a dark fringe along his cheeks. His hair was wet and slicked back and his face clean. Without opening his eyes, he spoke. “Let me guess. Blue, right?”

“Nope. Pink.”

His eyes flew open in alarm.

“It was the only one I could find that would fit you.” She held up the T-shirt, its garish bubblegum color a slap in the face to the austere bathroom. She kept her other hand behind her back.

Bann’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He reluctantly reached for it, holding it at arm’s length between thumb and finger as if the color alone might emasculate him. Wincing as he lifted his injured arm, he pulled it over his head.

Biting the inside of her lip, Shay watched in the mirror as he tugged it straight. “That shade looks good on you. Especially with your coloring.”

Bann stared at himself. “Does Hugh wear this?”

“Sure. Redheads look great in pink, too.”

She waited in the doorway, fighting a smile as Bann steeled himself for his public appearance. Just as he started out of the bathroom, she laid a hand on his chest. “You’re so gullible, Bannerman Boru.” She held up the other T-shirt she had brought along.

He blinked. “Why…why, ye manky trickster.” Amusement pulled at a corner of his mouth. Pushing against her hand, he advanced, forcing her to retreat.

Laughing, she backed up. “Oh my gods, you should’ve seen the look on your face when—Oh!”

Bann lunged for her. Twisting, she ducked under his hand and darted around to the far side of her bed, putting it between them. “Look, I brought you another shirt.” She waved the blue one at him. “Truce and all that.”

“‘Twill do ye no good now,” he growled, deepening his brogue. “Ye’ve insulted a Knight with yer shenanigans and yer foul sartorial choice.”

“Wow, you know big words. You must read a lot of—”

Bann flung himself across the mattress, warrior-agile. Before she could dart away, he landed on her side of the bed and snagged her wrist. Plucking the shirt from her clutches, he tossed it over his shoulder. Then, catching hold of her other arm, he steered her backwards, his fingers firm but gentle handcuffs around her wrists, until she bumped against the wall. “And for the insult, ye must pay for yer crime.”

She shook a strand of hair out of her eyes. “So, what’s the punishment?” Still grinning, she stared up in a silent challenge.

Bann stared back. Between one heartbeat and the next, the playfulness faded from his face. It was replaced by an expression that made her cheeks, and other parts, grow warm. The light abrasion on her skin from his callused fingers sent her stomach a-fluttering. Letting go of her wrists, he braced his hands on the wall on either side of her head.

“A kiss.”

“Sadist.”

“Aye.” He leaned closer and fastened his mouth onto hers. As his lips moved, he pressed closer until his body was a scant inch from hers. An inch too far.

Yeah, I don’t think so. Shay placed her hands on his hips—actually, on his ass—and tugged him closer. He obliged, pinning her to the wall with chest and belly and hips.

She gasped when he not only parted her lips with mouth and tongue, but brought his knee up and nudged her legs apart as well, pressing his thigh against her crotch. She responded, rocking her hips ever so slightly. She could feel his erection, an impressive denim-encased package to be sure, on her hip. Meanwhile, his tongue was doing things to her mouth that made her toes curl. Before she was ready to quit—actually, just about when she was ready to topple him onto the bed—Bann pulled back, panting.

“A moment.” He took a breath, then let it out slowly.

“About to go over the edge?” she teased.

“Certainly approaching the rim.” He wiped a layer of sweat from his upper lip. “I feel like a lad in the hay with his first maiden.”

“Me, too,” she whispered back. The question hovered between them. “What about Cor?”

“What about him?”

“Won’t he be upset if we…you know?” Shay felt her face growing hot. Screwed each other senseless?

Bann reached up and fingered a lock of her hair. “No, I do not think so.” Uncertainty deepened the blue of his eyes.

Shay brushed her knuckles along his jaw, savoring the rasp of the dark stubble. “I won’t do anything that hurts him.” In spite of the heat of the moment, her heart swelled at the thought of the younger Boru. “I must admit something, Bann. I think I’m falling in love with your son.” Maybe, you, too.

“Then he is a fortunate boyo.”

“Max?” Hearing Cor’s voice calling for the dog, Shay and Bann looked at each other.

Later, perhaps?

You can count on it.

With a trace of a wink, Bann snatched the other T-shirt off the bed and disappeared across the hall.

A few moments later, Max burst into the room, Cor on his tail. “Ann told me to call her Ann and to tell you to come eat,” he said in one long breath. He glanced around. “Where’s Dad?”

“Room across the hall.” Shay chuckled when boy and dog banged into each other trying to bolt through the doorway at the same time. Cor’s got a permanent shadow now. Which is good. Max is as effective a guard for the kid as any of us could be.

Taking a moment, Shay combed her hair, tying it back into a ponytail, then washed her face and hands before heading out of her room. Bann’s door was shut. Even so, she could hear Cor protesting, a mix of laughter and nervousness in his tone.

“No way, Dad! I’m not wearing that!”

“I don’t see why not. True, it’s a wee bit large, but…”

“‘Cuz it’s pink!” Cor’s voice rose to a shrill pitch.

Shay grinned all the way to the kitchen.