9

 

Faolan’s jerked his head up with a curse on his lips. He wheeled the horse around to see the fae searchers racing over the crest of the hill less than a half mile away. He tightened his grip around her and snapped the reins, giving the horse his heels. “Hold on tight as ye can,” he whispered as they sped along the riverbank. He pulled her close to his chest and rode hard, glancing back over his shoulder at the advancing riders.

One of the horsemen broke away from the group and bore down on Faolan, who veered off to put distance between them. “We may not be able to outrun them, Blossom, but I willna let them take ye.” Colleen buried her face against his chest, but her eyes flew open when she heard his sword being pulled free of its sheath.

“There’s too many,” she gasped, clinging to him for dear life when the horse abruptly changed directions again. “Can’t we ask them to parlay? I saw that in a movie once.”

He laughed, a harsh biting sound. “This is no movie, Colleen, and ye wouldna want to be striking deals with the likes of them.” He reined in sharply and a rider thundered past on their right just as Faolan swung the heavy sword. Colleen shut her eyes and pressed her hands to her ears to dampen the horrible scream that pierced the air. He snapped the reins again and the horse leapt forward.

Another rider closed in on the other side and Faolan bent forward as they rode side by side at a breakneck speed. Colleen ventured a peek at their pursuer and her eyes widened in horror. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the rider, but the horse…the long silky mane flew behind it like a banner and its terrible eyes were solid yellow. Foam flew as the sleek black animal strained against the bit, tossing its great head. “Faolan, the horse’s eyes–”

“Later, lass,” Faolan barked, “I’m a wee bit busy at the moment.” He switched the sword to his left hand, gripping Colleen’s waist and the reins with his right. Suddenly his body tensed and he reared back in the saddle, his big hand shoving her head down. She grunted and the sound of indignation she was going to make died on her lips as a great whoosh went over her. The tiny hairs on the crown of her head rippled from the breeze the fae sword left in its wake and she went rigid with the sudden knowledge that either or both of them could lose their lives within the space of a heartbeat.

A chilling war cry on his lips, Faolan bellowed his outrage and wheeled the horse around to engage her attacker. Colleen bit back a scream, snatching her feet up just before the two animals collided hard enough to jar her from her tenuous perch. Terrified, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer as her man and the…whatever that thing was…fought over the top of her. She clamped her hand over her ears to muffle another high pitched wail when Faolan’s sword found the target it sought. The large muscles in his thighs gripped the horse and urged it into motion again, another rider hot on their heels.

Faolan suddenly grunted and jerked, muttering under his breath. “Not too much further, Princess–take the reins,” he ordered. Colleen fumbled to grab the leather strips, holding on for dear life as the horse sped forward at a dizzying speed. Faolan whipped the dagger formerly belonging to the unfortunate William from his boot and with a sidearm gesture flung it directly into the throat of the nearest attacker. There was a sickening thud when the rider was unhorsed.

“Three less for the now,” Faolan said, breathing heavily. He leaned them both forward to urge more speed from the tiring horse. “Ye canna kill them, but they hate the iron. ‘Twill slow them down a bit.” Colleen peeked over his shoulder at the riders now flanking them. Inhumanly beautiful, their long hair streamed behind them while they rode but their incensed expressions were identical. Tinkerbell’s army is seriously pissed off, Colleen shuddered.

“Hie ye to the bridge, just ahead,” Faolan commanded, swinging his sword again and narrowly missing the nearest rider. “If any dare bar yer way, run them over. Give no quarter, we must gain the far side of the river.”

Something dark flew by her ear and disappeared into the brush. “What was that?” Colleen gasped.

“Arrow,” Faolan bit out. “They’re shooting. Stay down.” At once, she hunkered down near the horse’s neck. When the narrow bridge across the river came into view, she jerked the reins and headed straight for it. Hooves clattered over the thick wooden planks as they crossed, their pursuers hot behind them. On the other side, she relaxed her vise grip on the reins and gave the excited horse his head. The fae warriors formed a V formation with Colleen and Faolan at the peak. “Just a bit further,” he urged, glancing back over his shoulder and hunching over, using his body as her shield from the lethal missiles.

In what seemed like a lifetime later, Faolan retrieved the reins and tugged the hysterical horse to a top. He turned them around to face the remaining riders. They were paused a quarter mile back, watching the pair while the impatient mounts pawed the ground, their tangled manes brushing the ground.

“What’s going on? Why did they stop?” Colleen gasped, a sob of relief caught in her throat.

“They can go no further,” Faolan exhaled with his own sigh of relieved satisfaction. “They canna come onto the Queen’s land without inviting her wrath.” One rider raised his arm and shouted to the others, an eerie sound unlike anything Colleen had ever heard before. As one, they whirled and rode back in the direction they came from.

“Wait, what? Queen? What Queen?” Colleen gaped, a building tension underscoring her words. “Where exactly are you taking me, Faolan?”

“Carraig Liath,” he said, “the place of the gray rock.” He smoothed a hand over her hair. “Are ye all right, Colleen?”

“Yeah,” she said, biting her lip and looking anxiously toward the hillock the fae disappeared over. “Are you sure they’re gone?”

“Quite sure,” he smiled, “yer safe now.” His eyes fluttered closed and he slowly rolled off the horse’s back, three of those deadly arrows protruding from his back.

* * * *

Faolan’s first thought upon waking was that he had died and was in some sort of strange hell. Lying face down in a soft patch of sweet smelling grass wasn’t too bad, he decided, but the maddening itch on his back needed to be dealt with at once. “What’re ye about, lass?” he mumbled, rolling over to look at her. “And what the hell’s crawled inside my shirt?”

On her knees next to him, Colleen gave a small sob at his voice and threw both arms around his head. “Thank God,” she whispered, clutching him tight against her stomach. “I thought you were dead. How…how do you feel?”

The recent events came flooding back. Faolan moved his shoulders gingerly. “Did ye pull the elf-bolts out on yer own?” he asked in an incredulous voice, muffled against the folds of her gown. Turning his face slightly, he spied the arrows where she had thrown them after snapping each one neatly in half.

“I’ve read how to do it in…in the romance novels,” she admitted with a blush. “I knew it was going to hurt so I figured I’d better do it while you were unconscious.” When he opened his mouth again, she continued before he could ask. “I used sphagnum moss to stop the bleeding. It’s what the books always say to do. It might itch a bit, but it seems to have helped,” she added, pulling back a clump of the stuff to peek at the small gash. “I think the bleeding’s stopped. The arrowheads didn’t go in very deep,” she observed.

“Clever lass.” He yawned. “They went in deep enough to hurt, I warrant. All they needed do was break the skin,” he explained. “The tips were coated with a sleeping draught.”

“Like a tranquilizer gun?” she gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.

“‘Twas not their intent to kill me or they would have,” Faolan replied. “The Tuatha De are deadly archers. They wanted me out of the way so that…” his voice trailed off and he looked away. “’Tis ye they wanted.”

The blood drained from Colleen’s face and she trembled violently before she was able to collect herself. “I guess I should say thank you for saving my life again,” she whispered.

“But it’s my–” Faolan replied, but was silenced by Colleen putting a finger over his lips.

“No, just thank you,” she smiled, moving her finger and replacing it with her lips.

* * * *

It was an hour before her trembling stopped. They were still riding several hours after that when the first drop of rain fell on Colleen’s hand. She brushed it away without much thought. The second drop landed on her cheek and the third on her nose, a little harder to ignore. “It’s starting to rain, Faolan,” she remarked.

He looked up into the darkening sky. “Aye, ‘tis,” he agreed, saying no more. The horse snorted and tossed his head as if he too wanted to seek shelter. Faolan clucked in response, leaned forward and gave the horse a soothing pat on the long graceful neck. “Easy there, auld lad.”

The seconds between drops grew shorter and shorter until they were a gentle but constant downpour that showed no signs of slowing. Colleen snuck a glance up at Faolan. He continued to watch the road ahead, seemingly oblivious to how wet they were getting. “It’s raining, Faolan.”

“Aye, ‘tis,” he said again, shifting her weight between his legs. He ran his fingers his hair, slicking it back and away from his face. “We’re apt to get a wee bit damp, I’m afraid.”

“I passed a wee bit damp ten minutes ago,” she complained. “I’m moving into getting soaked.” She plucked the wet fabric of her bodice away from her skin and grimaced. “I may drown at this rate, Faolan.”

His lips twitched. “This is Eire, lass. Doona ye see all the lovely shades of green? It takes a lot of rain to keep it so.” She opened her mouth, but he spoke again before she could speak. “What would ye say were I to tell ye that tonight ye’ll have a hot bath, a good meal, and fall sleep in a fine feather bed with a braw Scot who loves ye beyond reason?”

“I’d say…” Colleen looked around at the wide open fields with no signs of civilization in sight for miles “…your druid skills are remarkable.”

The whole countryside reverberated with his laughter and unable to resist, she laughed too. The horse nickered as if joining in their merriment and the three of them continued to ride in the soft pouring rain.

Night was fast approaching, but before another hour had passed, they arrived at the outskirts of a large village. Guiding the horse around the large puddles of mud in the dirt road Faolan headed straight for the large building in the center of the town. When they reached the combined inn and tavern he dismounted, lifting Colleen down. A small boy of seven or eight ran up at once, chattering away in his excitement at the newcomers. “Stable yer horse, milord?”

Faolan pulled out a shiny coin out of his pouch and handed it to the miniature hostler along with the horse’s reins. “See that he’s well fed and watered, and there’ll be another of those for ye in the morning. Two if ye give him a good rubdown,” Faolan promised with a solemn wink as he unbuckled the saddlebags and looped them over his shoulder. The boy’s eyes lit up at the promise of another coin and with a happy nod of assent led the horse away toward the back of the inn.

“Valet parking, nice.” Colleen giggled then clapped a hand over her mouth at a sharp, rebuking glance from Faolan.

“Stay close until I take full measure of what lies within,” Faolan warned, pushing open the heavy oak doors and escorting her inside with a gentle but firm hand riding possessively at the small of her back. Colleen was overwhelmed by the rich sensations that enveloped her–the fresh smell of the rushes covering the wood floor, savory meat pastries and loaves of bread piping hot from the oven, the crackle of the peat fire to which fragrant flowers had been added. Although early, the tavern appeared to be somewhat quiet with only a few patrons talking and drinking at nearby tables, farmers and merchants from the look of them. Faolan took her by the arm, leading her to the bar.

The portly man behind the bar took a quick glance at the bedraggled couple. “Got caught out in the rain, did ye?” He laughed. “No matter, ye’ll dry quick enough in here. Drink?”

“We seek lodging for the night,” Faolan said, not elaborating further.

The man’s sharp gaze darted over them, taking in the cut of their clothing and manner, not missing the lethal sword Faolan wore at his side or the sgian dubh resting on Colleen’s hip. “I’ll be seeing yer coin,” he demanded. When Faolan tossed three gold coins onto the bar, the wide eyed barkeep scooped them up and stuck them in his pocket before anyone could blink. “Can’t be too careful these days. We’ve a fine room available and ready for ye and yer lady, milord. This be my place, name’s Ewan. And yers would be?”

“Sean,” Faolan said without batting an eye. He took Colleen by the hand and gave it a warning squeeze to be quiet. “Sean Connery.”

Ewan nodded, casting a glance over at Colleen, who was desperately hoping no one could see how close she was to breaking into hysterical laughter. “Fiona!” he called over his shoulder to a doorway behind him. “Come show Lord and Lady Connery to our finest room. ’Tis obvious yer lady is chilled through, milord. She’s trembling like a leaf, an’ ye don’t mind my saying.”

A stout woman came barreling out through the swinging doors, drying her hands on her apron and wearing a huge smile. “Good, more guests for the evening,” Fiona chortled happily. “And just look at the two of ye. Soaked to the bone, ye are. Let me show ye to yer room so ye can get out of those wet things ‘afore ye catch yer death.” The older woman fussed over them both like a mother hen and beckoned for them to follow her to the stairs.

Faolan cast a sideways glance at Colleen. “My lady would like a hot bath, if that be possible, mistress.”

“Aye, ‘tis,” Fiona nodded. “I’ll have the tub and water sent up at once.” She waved at the stable boy, just coming in. “Go find yer brothers and fetch some hot water and the tub fer the lady’s bath.” Without a word, the lad scampered off to do her bidding.

Colleen heaved a grateful sigh and followed behind Faolan as they climbed the narrow stairs behind the stout matron, their hands clasped. Once on the second floor, Fiona led them to the end of a dark hallway, selecting a key from the jingling ring carried on a long bit of ribbon looped around her neck. She pushed it into the lock and gave it a firm jiggle. “Sticks a bit,” she explained. “This is our best room. I do hope ye find it to be acceptable, milord.” She pushed the door open and waved them inside, dropping the key into Faolan’s open hand. “We’ll be serving the evening meal soon but if ye’d rather eat in yer room I can have it brought up for ye…” Fiona prattled on as she lit the fat candles and closed the wooden shutters, “…and we’ve the finest ale anywhere in Eire. We brew it ourselves.” She gave Colleen an appraising look and apparently approved of what she saw. “If milady would prefer wine to ale, we have that as well. Now if ye’ll excuse me, I’ll just go see what’s keeping those boys.”

After giving the couple a quick bob and curtsey she left the room, closing the door behind her. Faolan turned to Colleen and asked, “So what shall it be, my love? Dine in or take out?”

She burst into laughter at his modern terminology. “I’m not going to miss the chance to see a real medieval tavern,” she replied, hands fisted on her hips, “so my vote is to eat downstairs. If that’s okay with you, Mr. Connery,” she added with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“That’s fine with me, Blossom,” he chuckled “as long as I get to eat, I doona care where.”

A sudden knock on the door announced the arrival of the bathing tub. Two grinning youths carried the wooden monstrosity in, and several more children in varying sizes followed behind with large buckets full to the rim with steaming water. They dumped those into the tub, and with polite bows left the room.

Colleen stared at the tub as if it were an alien spacecraft, unsure exactly how one took a bath in a tub with no plumbing attached. After a moment, she raised confused eyes to Faolan, who gifted her with a warm, wonderful smile. “Would my lady require assistance with her bath?”

“Please,” she said, and when he held out his arms for her, she moved into them. Bit by bit, he began to peel the wet clothing from her skin. He removed each piece, kissing the area of skin it exposed, raising goose flesh wherever the cool air made contact. Or maybe it’s his kisses making me shiver, she thought, and brushed her lips across his brow.

When at last she stood naked, he led her over to the round tub and held her hand as she stepped into the hot water. “Mmm…” She sighed, sinking down to her shoulders, “It’s heavenly.”

Faolan smiled at her obvious delight and turning back toward the foot of the bed began rummaging through the saddlebags. He soon found what he was looking for and took his prize to Colleen. “Here,” he said, desire making his voice a little gruffer than he intended.

Colleen held out her hand and Faolan dropped the bar of perfumed soap in it. She held it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Roses,” she smiled. “You remembered.”

He nodded. “That very first night, the scent of roses followed ye wherever ye walked past and I was so entranced I couldna help but follow wherever ye led. Allow me,” he said, kneeling next to the tub and taking the soap from her. He began at her shoulders, soaping the bare skin above the water. He washed her back and she sighed with contentment at his gentle touch. When his hand dipped below the water into the cloudy depths, she squealed in a delightful combination of shock, surprise and arousal. “I mean to be thorough, lady,” he informed her with a sly grin.

“And you’re succeeding as always,” she laughed with him and entwined her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her mouth. “And I love that about you.”

He forgot all about what he was doing and brushed his lips against hers in a seductive half kiss. “I dreamt of seeing ye like this,” he whispered, “and I wouldna believed it possible, but yer even more beautiful by candlelight.” He took her by the hand and helped her stand, wrapping her in the waiting towel. “If the tub was bigger, I’d be in there with ye, but I wouldna have bathing on my mind,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh!” Colleen gasped. “I’m so selfish. You’re still in your wet clothes.” She quickly began pulling his clothes off and when he was naked, she pushed him toward the tub. “Get in there before the water cools,” she ordered.

“But I…” Faolan protested, but when he saw the stubborn set of her jaw he shrugged and stepped in the tub. “Lass, if ye doona mind–”

“Sit,” she ordered, fishing around until she found the bar of soap. She began scrubbing at his chest while he watched her with an indulgent smile. “Lean forward,” she said and he flinched when she washed his back with what he thought was a bit more zeal than perhaps was necessary.

Faolan leaned back again and gave her a sheepish look. “Might I trouble ye for something out of the bag, lass?” Colleen sat back on her heels and raised her eyebrows in a questioning look. “There’s another bar of soap with scent more...” He cleared his throat and raised his eyes to the ceiling “…befitting a man. As much as I love the fragrance of roses on yer delicate skin, I doona think I fancy going downstairs to the common room smelling like a fine lady.”

* * * *

They emerged from their room an hour later, clean and dry. Holding hands as they descended the wooden stairs, it was obvious to all what they had been about. Colleen’s kiss swollen lips and dreamy eyes were a dead giveaway as was the satisfied smile on Faolan’s face.

The tavern was much busier now than when they first went upstairs, and a pretty young woman appeared as soon as they took a seat on the wooden bench at their table. Her eyes lingered appreciatively on Faolan before turning a cold glance to Colleen. “What can I bring ye, milord?” she asked sweetly, ignoring Colleen completely.

Colleen’s chin tilted up ever so slightly at the snub. She nudged him with her knee under the table. “You order,” she mouthed. With a nod, he requested wine and ale for them both, along with the evening offerings of fresh meat pies, bread, sweet butter and a thick barley soup. The serving girl took their order to the kitchen and returned within moments with their drinks.

She set tankard and cup down with a flirtatious smile then trailed her fingers lightly across the collar of his linen shirt as if she meant to pluck a piece of lint. “My name be Riann, milord, and if there’s aught I can do to make yer stay more… comfortable…ye have but to ask.” With a meaningful wink, she moved away to linger nearby, her hungry gaze never leaving Faolan.

“She’s hitting on you, the little…,” Colleen muttered something intelligible into her cup as she took a long gulp of the strong homemade wine, “and I doona like it a bit.”

Faolan bit his lip to keep from laughing at her jealous indignation. “I can put a stop to that,” he said, and without another word pulled Colleen into his lap and slanted his mouth over hers, possessive and fierce. When he let her go moments later, the serving girl was nowhere to be seen. “Ye canna blame her for looking, my sweet, but she’s far more interested in the color of my coin than in me.”

Colleen gasped in shocked, her eyes wide. “You mean she’s…? Good lord, she’s a real tavern wench.” Her question was answered moments later when Riann turned up at a nearby table of three men dressed in damp traveling clothes, obviously more refugees from the rain. One of the men’s hands crept out to caress the girl’s bottom when she leaned over their table and she gave him a playful swat, batting her eyes coyly. It came as no surprise when both Riann and the man disappeared hand in hand before much more time elapsed.

Fiona and two other serving girls were serving the evening meal to the crowded tables just as an elderly man, a young man and a small boy came in through the front door, bringing in a wet gust of wind with their arrival. Faolan glanced over at the newcomers and his attention was at once riveted by the odd group. The old man made his way to the long, polished bar aided by a long staff while the two youths waited by the door with their baggage. He spoke to Ewan and from all the gesturing it appeared they were arguing. Faolan eased Colleen back into the seat beside him and whispered, “Stay right here.”

He strode over to where the two men argued, listening intently. Without a word, Faolan pressed something into the hands of the owner, bowing his head respectfully to the old man before returning to his seat. When he waved for another tankard from the server and didn’t volunteer any information about what had just happened, Colleen tapped him on the arm impatiently. “What was that about?”

Just then Riann brought their dinner and the requested ale, balancing the wooden platters expertly on one arm. Leaning over to set them down on the table, she gave him a sultry wink and a blatant display of cleavage in the process. Colleen’s fists balled up and she stiffened in anger, but was stayed by Faolan’s calming hand on her thigh. “Now lass,” he crooned, “ye know I’ve eyes for no woman but ye.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And yer breasts are much nicer.”

Her anger melted away at his admission. He took a long drink of the honey colored ale and licked his lips like a satisfied cat, then grunted when she gave him a sharp elbow to his ribs. “Tell me what happened at the bar,” she demanded.

Faolan shrugged again and tried to look away, but she caught his chin and kept his gaze on her. He blew out a gusty breath in resignation. “They’re druids, lass,” he whispered, “and we are honor bound to help one another.” He reached for his ale and took another drink. “Even were they not, no one should be put out on a wet night such as this for lack of coin in their pockets, least of all a child.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Yer a kind man, Faolan MacIntyre. Do ye know how fine ye are to me?” she teased.

“Rob Roy,” he said with a fond smile. “Mary MacGregor had the right of it.” He paused then paraphrased the quote from the movie. “Although I love life itself, it is but a moon-cast shadow to the love I bear ye.” He captured her hand and brushed it against his cheek, pressing a kiss into her palm and folding her fingers around it.

Colleen colored at the heartfelt words and felt a hot tear of shame escape. “I’m so sorry I’ve been such a…so…” She sniffed, unable to complete the sentence.

Faolan brushed the corner of her eye with his thumb, smiled and changed the subject. “Yer in for a treat this eve,” he said. With a nod, he gestured at the threesome now seated by the fire and being served their dinner by Fiona. They fell upon their food, and by the ravenous way they ate, Colleen knew it had been a long time between meals for them.

She turned her interest back to her own meal. As before, Faolan fed her tasty morsel after morsel until she begged off, saying she was stuffed. Colleen then watched while he satisfied his own appetite, finishing everything left on the table. Riann, having given up on Faolan as a lost cause, moved on to her other tables in search of easier prey.

While the platters were being cleared, the young man reached into a large sack, pulling out a bulky object wrapped in a thick, protective cloth. Unwrapping his package, he revealed an ornate Celtic harp made of a dark polished wood and settled it on his lap with a confident air.

At a nod of approval from the old man, he began to play. The warm, rich sound of the strings filled the tavern, and one by one the crowd stopped talking and listened to the sweet notes filling the room. He played a slow ballad first, then picked out a lively tune and everyone began clapping in time with the music. One of the innkeeper’s sons produced a bodhran from behind the bar and used the skin covered drum to keep time. The old man pulled a whistle from his robe pocket and began to play along, adding another layer to the intricate melody. Laughing in delight, Fiona, Riann and the other serving girls lifted their skirts and spun around, their slippered feet beating out a tattoo on the rushes as they danced to the infectious rhythms.

The bard played and sang for hours, sweet romantic melodies and bawdy ditties that made the entire tavern raise their voices in song. Even Colleen was pulled into the dance by Fiona, and hopped gamely about trying to manage the intricate steps. The wine helped with her inhibitions and before long she was holding her own with the other women while the men clapped in time with the music.

When the song was over, Colleen fell laughing and breathless into Faolan’s lap. He tightened his arms about her waist and she leaned back against him, laying her head against his shoulder. “Thank you, Faolan,” she whispered, “for everything.”

* * * *

Colleen awoke just after dawn and opened bleary, reddened eyes to survey her surroundings. She groaned loudly, unable to believe she actually thought drinking homemade wine a fine idea the night before. Almost as if waiting for her to wake, Faolan handed her a cup that held what looked to be dirty water with wood shavings floating throughout. “Drink this,” he whispered.

Colleen did as she was told, grimacing when she swallowed the bitter brew. “If the hangover doesn’t kill me, this certainly will,” she moaned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and falling back against the fat feather pillow. “I danced last night, didn’t I?” Her cheeks flamed red with the memory. “Tell me I didn’t sing, too,” she begged, rolling over to bury her face.

Faolan chuckled. “Aye, as beautiful and graceful as any muse. Ye fair enchanted everyone in the inn. I fear ye were flown with wine last eve.” He gave her a gentle kiss on the temple. “Go back to sleep, beloved. Ye’ll be right as rain when ye wake again.”

She smiled back and snuggled down in the warm feather bed next to him. “My big, braw Scot,” she whispered, and when he began singing softly to her, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a healing sleep.

* * * *

Around midmorning Colleen woke again, feeling like a new woman. She sat up and stretched, then turned her attention to her morning ablutions. “I don’t know what kind of medieval remedy you gave me, but it was a miracle. Nasty, but effective,” she remarked, washing her face in the basin of water and running the comb through her tangled hair.

“Willow bark. I believe in yer time, ye call it aspirin and it comes in tablets.” Still abed, Faolan rolled over to a reclining position to watch her dress. “And I suppose,” he added lightly, “ye doona remember dragging me up here and tearing the clothes from my body in yer haste to get me naked.”

Her gasp of horror only egged him on and he warmed to his subject much to her disconcertion. “And such a demanding wee thing ye turned into,” he laughed, his voice rising to a high, teasing pitch. “Touch me here, Faolan…and here…and kiss me here ‘afore I expire from wantin’ ye. And why is it yer makin’ me wait, Faolan?” His gaze turned serious when he added in his own voice, “I was in fear for my life, lady. Ye threatened to divest me of my manhood with my own sgian dubh did I not comply with yer demands.”

He fell back in a dramatic swoon. “It was hard work, Princess, but somehow I found the strength to rise to the occasion.” Laughing at his own risque wit, he never saw the pillow swing in a deadly arc straight for his head. He grabbed her around the waist and toppled her down on top of him before she could hit him again. With laughing eyes and insistent kisses, he issued a few demands of his own, with which she was more than delighted to comply.

After a late but substantial breakfast, they set out again. They rode for several hours with Faolan stopping twice to survey the countryside and once to hunt. Colleen tried hard not to think about the lifeless rabbits that hung tied to the saddle. She had nearly dozed off when Faolan suddenly wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly.

“Och, darlin’…” he murmured, nuzzling her neck playfully.

Startled, Colleen shielded her eyes to look up at him. “What did I do?” she gasped.

“Ye saved my miserable life, is all,” he said. “’Tis thankin’ ye I am for pulling the elfbolts out. I guess I should be grateful that you’d been reading those books and all, but…” he bit his lip, obviously uncertain how to proceed.

“But?” Colleen asked, curious.

Faolan shrugged and grunted noncommittally. “It’s just that…I was wondering…did ye know that there…em…”

“Spit it out,” Colleen giggled. “Did I know what?”

“I’m obliged to ye that ye learned to treat a battle wound from reading them, but….well,…did ye know they talk about the men and women…” his voice dropped to a scandalized whisper. “coupling? In great detail, too, no less.”

Unable to stop herself, Colleen doubled over in a shriek of laughter. “Coupling? Say it isn’t so,” she gasped and would have fallen off had Faolan not tightened his grip. Unamused by the sudden disturbance, the horse danced sideways and flattened his ears back in displeasure.

Faolan tightened his grip on the reins and clucked his tongue to sooth the animal. “Aye, ’tis so,” he assured her. “Never in my life have I read such accounts of sheer wantonness, heaving this and wet that. Gave me a right fierce cockstand, I can tell ye, and ye nowhere to be found. Most unobliging, I must say, leaving yer man in such a state.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Of course, that was back when ye were locking yer door against me, protecting yer virtue.”

Colleen leaned back against his broad chest. “We wasted so much time.” She sighed.

“Och, well,” Faolan chuckled, dropping a soft kiss on the top of her head. “We’re together now. I waited lifetimes for you, mo chridhe. A day or two more made little difference.”

When it became apparent that the horse was growing tired, he slowed and stopped next to a large field upon which grazed two sturdy horses along with a half dozen sheep, their unshaven wooly coats making them appear to be fat round cotton balls trundling about on tiny hooves. “I’m going to stop at this farmhouse and ask if the owner would consider selling one of his horses,” Faolan spoke low next to her ear. “A word of caution, Princess. These are simple folk and likely very superstitious, so no talk of faeries or druids. We’re naught more than simple travelers, got it?”

He skirted the edge of the pasture, walking the horse up to the ramshackle gray stone farmhouse perched on the edge of a rolling green hill. Two small, dirty children wearing white linen tunics played around the stoop and set up a yammering call of alarm at the sight of the strangers approaching.

The woman of the house appeared at once, wiping her hands on the worn apron of her gown, only slightly cleaner than the children’s. “What is it yer wantin’?” she called warily. “We’ve naught much to offer noble folk like ye.” She appeared at first to be middle aged, but on closer inspection, Colleen realized the woman probably wasn’t much older than herself. Slight of frame with a ruddy complexion, her carrot red hair rested in a messy bun at the nape of her neck.

Faolan placed his hand over his heart and inclined his head. “We would speak with the gentleman of the house, mistress, if he be available.”

“Sean! There’s a big Scot here to see ye,” the woman bellowed over her shoulder with a ferocity that belied her small stature. Faolan and Colleen both jumped and even the children scuttled to the side of the house. “Far from home, ain’t ye?” she asked Faolan before turning a critical eye to Colleen. “Are ye Scot too?”

After looking to Faolan for reassurance, Colleen answered, “No, ma’am. My home is…farther away.”

“English,” the woman sniffed. “My man’ll be up in a moment. I’m Mairead O’Minogue, by the by. Sean,” she screamed again.

Two red haired boys looking to be in their early teens walked around the corner of the cottage, followed by a short, thin man who walked with a pronounced limp. “Christ above us, Mairead, ye’ll scream them deaf,” he scolded. He sized up both visitors and nodded in deference to Faolan. “Sean O’Minogue, at yer service, milord.”

“I’m no lord, sir.” Faolan smiled, “I merely wished to inquire after one of yer horses.” Sean turned and headed for the pasture, waving for Faolan to join him on the dirt path. Behave yerself, Princess, he mouthed to Colleen. She promptly smiled then crossed her eyes at him. With a chuckle, he turned and followed behind the man, the two gangly youths trailing a few paces after them.

Colleen turned to see the woman had already disappeared back inside the house. Almost in a snit at having been forgotten, she sat down on a large rock and took the opportunity to rest and stretch. At the sound of a furtive whisper, she glanced around to see the two youngsters huddled next to the stoop, staring at her through wide eyes. She smiled and waved. Gradually they eased out of their hiding place and moved to sit next to her on the ground. “Hello,” she said, “I’m Colleen.”

The two children looked askance at each other before the braver of the two spoke. “I’m Dónal, I’m eight,” he said, “and ‘is here’s me sister Maire, she’s seven.” He nodded toward the path where the men had gone. “Them other two’s our brothers Padraig and Liam. Our baby sister Shauna’s in the house.” 

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Colleen said solemnly, shaking each child’s hand.

“Are ye a real princess? That man called ye one,” Maire said, pointing to the path where Faolan and the men had disappeared.

“He always says silly things like that,” Colleen whispered in a conspiratorial voice. “He even calls me Blossom. Now really, do I look like a flower to you?” She made a face and stuck out her tongue.

Both children collapsed into giggles at that. Colleen smiled into the bright faces covered in freckles. “You both must have been beautiful babies to have so many faery marks.”

Dónal puffed his small chest out with masculine pride. “I’m a boy and boys ain’t beautiful,” he protested.

Maire nodded in agreement. “They’s all rough and tumble, always getting hurt,” she said. To emphasize that statement, the little girl grabbed the hem of Dónal’s tunic and lifted it to show an ugly gash on the side of the little boy’s thigh.

Colleen gasped. The gaping wound was about four inches long, and definitely would have needed stitches several days before. It was festering, the edges of the cut red and angry with infection. Colleen thought fast and leapt to her feet. “Do you have water and soap?” she asked. “Bring them to me.” For the first time in her adult life, she was proud of all the work she did earning her Girl Scout badge in first aid.

The little girl dashed off to do her bidding and came back moments later with a bowl of water, soap, a clean rag and her mother in tow. “What’re ye about with my boy?” Mairead demanded, drying her hands on her apron.

“This wound has to be cleaned; it’s infected and it will make him very sick.” Colleen said, kneeling down next to the frightened boy. “It will sting for a minute, but we’ve got to get the poison out,” she soothed. His sister dropped down on his other side and held his hand.

Mairead sank to her knees next to Colleen. “I wash it every single day, but the poison keeps coming,” the mother fretted. “I’m afraid he’s going to lose his leg, and then where will he be without it? My poor lad…”

Colleen shook her head as an idea came to her. “We can fix this,” she assured her, and handed her the rag. “Clean out as much of the pus as you can, I’ll be right back.” She jumped up and ran to their horse, yanking open a saddlebag and fumbling around with one hand. Finding her rolled up jeans, she felt around in the back pocket until her fingers closed around the tube of antiseptic ointment. With a triumphant cry, she ran back to the huddled woman and children.

“This will help with the infection,” Colleen said, smearing it in and on the cut. “It’ll need wrapping to keep the medicine on.” At once, Mairead jumped up and ran inside, coming back out a moment later with a clean strip of linen to bind the cut. Colleen wrapped it around the leg, pulling it tight to close the wound. “Here,” she said, handing the tube to Mairead. “Put this on him once in the morning, once at night. If you keep the wound clean and use this, it might get rid of the infection and save his leg.”

Mairead’s face was bloodless as she took the strange orange tube and looked at it curiously. She pulled on the cap until Colleen showed her how to twist it on and off, and her face lit up. “Thank ye, milady,” she said, her voice quiet. “What can we do to repay ye?”

Colleen waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m just happy I could help, Mairead,” she said.

A shout from the path let the women know the men were on their way back, leading the larger of the two horses from the pasture by a rope bridle. Colleen shielded her eyes against the sun and sighed. Faolan walked next to the farmer on the path, tall and straight and looking every inch the nobleman she knew he was. He spied her sitting on the ground with the woman and children and his whole face lit up with a happy smile. Her chest tightened, her heart full and near to bursting out of love for him.

Colleen gave Faolan a bright grin of her own as he tipped an imaginary cap to her. “Been getting into mischief, Blossom?” he asked. Colleen cast a knowing glance to the children and all three giggled conspiratorially.

“Nay, milord,” Mairead said, scrambling to her feet. “Yer lady has healing hands. She took care of my Dónal’s leg and gave me a salve to put it to rights.”

A slow smile curved Faolan’s lips. “She does indeed have a gentle touch, my lady does.” He offered his hand, and Colleen slipped her smaller one in his as she rose to her feet.

Mairead gave the couple a long look, brushing bits of dried grass from her skirt. “Well, come on with ye. Ye both look like ye could use a bite to eat,” she said, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“We couldn’t–” Colleen began, but stopped after a light warning squeeze from Faolan.

“We would be honored,” Faolan interrupted with a polite nod. “Thank ye most kindly, Mistress O’Minogue. In fact,” he said, stepping over to their saddled horse and untying the rabbits, “allow us to gift ye with these. In meager payment for our dinner, of course.”

A smile of relief spread across the woman’s face. “It’ll be a pleasure, milord,” she said, bobbing a quick curtsey in thanks. She took the game and gestured to the older boys. “Liam, Padraig, go dress these conies for stew.” With happy grins of anticipation, the two boys disappeared around the back of their home with the rabbits.

A low rumble of thunder shook the ground, and Sean cast an uneasy glance at the dark clouds billowing to the west. “Storm’s coming,” he muttered. “Ye folks are welcome to bide a wee ‘til it blows over.” With a sweep of his hand, he shooed everyone inside just as the first heavy raindrop fell. He led both horses to an overhang under the thatched roof where they would be sheltered from the rain before joining the rest inside.

Stepping over the threshold of the cottage was like stepping into another world. It was larger than it looked from the outside, with a large room that held a fireplace big enough to walk inside and stand up in on the outside wall. Oilskins were rolled up over the open windows and fragrant rushes cushioned the floor. The furnishings were sparse. Handmade benches and a coarse wood table made up what was obviously a dining area and a rocking chair sat next to the fireplace where several pairs of shapeless socks hung drying.

There were two other rooms, each containing one wide bed with fat feather ticks sprawled atop their wooden frames. They all share the same beds, Colleen realized, wondering where on earth the couple managed to find enough privacy to have all these children.

Mairead waved for Faolan and Colleen to be seated at the table. “It’ll be only a moment or two,” she said, giving them a big smile. “Would ye be wanting a drink while yer waiting? We’ve no wine to speak of, but we do have a well. Sweetest water in all of Eire, it is.”

“That would be–” Faolan stopped abruptly and cocked his head to listen. “What’s that sound?” he asked, his voice soft.

Colleen listened. “I didn’t hear–” But then the quiet sound came again, a dusty rattle that lasted only a moment before falling silent.

“That be our sister Shawna,” little Maire murmured, taking hold of her mother’s full skirt. “She’s real sick. Mama says she’s going to be an angel soon, ain’t she, Mama?”

Mairead put her hand to her heart and closed her eyes to halt the flow of tears that threatened to spill out onto her cheeks. “Mayhap, sweetling,” she whispered, stroking the child’s soft blond hair.

Colleen took Faolan’s hand and they stared into each other’s eyes, locked in silent conversation. After a moment, he nodded resolutely and stood. “Bring me the child,” he ordered.

Sean shook his head. “She’s got the fever, milord. Been burning with it for three days now. The sickness’s settled down into her chest. There’s naught left to do for her but put it in the hands of the Almighty–”

“Bring me the child,” Faolan repeated in that formidable voice that left the distraught father powerless to resist. He bolted from the room, returning moments later with what appeared to be a limp pile of rags.

“She’s resting now, poor wee thing,” Sean said, handing over the small bundle.

Faolan pulled back the swaddling to reveal a small flushed face, eyes clenched shut. The tiny rosebud mouth parted as she struggled for air. Her chest rattled like the sound of dry autumn leaves being crushed underfoot with each labored breath. Mairead gathered the other children around her and huddled next to the fireplace. Sean joined his family and stood braced for the worst, his arms folded across his chest.

Faolan gazed at the child with a tender expression, brushing the wisps of strawberry blond hair away from her face. He glanced up to find the family staring at him with huge saucer eyes. “Doona be afraid,” he assured them with a tight smile. He took his seat and began peeling away the layers of thin woolen blankets. Colleen rose to stand behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders in an unspoken gesture of support.

Mairead moved forward with a protest on her lips, but Sean raised his arm to stop her. “Leave it be, Mother,” he whispered. He made a hasty sign of the cross then turned a resigned but hopeful face to his visitors. “If ye have the old magic, my lord, do ye use it now.”

All his attention focused on the baby, Faolan held her to his chest and began to sing very softly into the tiny, shell like ear. Colleen smiled at the memory of hearing that same healing song, her broken face and heart cradled in his large hands as they rode through that first dark and terrifying night.

As the storm raged outside, Faolan crooned to the baby in that strange language. A quarter of an hour passed unnoticed while everyone in the room watched in rapt fascination. When at last he fell silent, there was a collective sigh, everyone having been holding their breath for fear of breaking the spell. “Mistress O’Minogue?” Faolan whispered, holding the sleeping child out to her mother, her tiny face now pink and smooth. “She’ll rest now. I believe she’ll be fine by the morrow.” As if in agreement, the infant yawned, smacked her lips and gave a soft coo of contentment.

Mairead gathered the child in her arms and disappeared into the bedroom. Upon returning, she took one look at their visitors and burst into joyful tears. Sean enfolded her in his arms, giving Faolan a grateful glance. “We’re much obliged for yer kindness, milord,” he nodded, moving away to comfort his sobbing wife.

Colleen slipped her own arms around Faolan’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered next to his ear.

He wrapped his arms tight around her and pulled her close, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Would that I could have done that for my own,” he murmured back.

After the meal, the storm moved off to the east and the sun began to peek out from behind fast disappearing clouds. With genuine regret, Faolan and Colleen began to make their goodbyes. The younger children went outside to look for rainbows, Dónal leaning on Maire as he hobbled gingerly on his wounded leg. The two older boys ran to get the horses while the adults lingered inside.

“Here,” Mairead said, pressing a wrapped bundle into Colleen’s hands, “ye’ll be hungry later for certain. ’Tis not much, but take it with our blessings.”

Murmuring under his breath, Faolan reached inside his leather sporran and pulled out a large fistful of shiny gold coins. He dropped them on the table then repeated the gesture three more times. The O’Minogues looked on, speechless with astonishment.

“These children need milk,” Faolan ordered. “Buy yerself a milking cow or two and chickens, seed, clothing and whatever else ye need. Keep the horse we rode here. He’ll be a worthy mount once he’s rested up a bit. Use whatever remains of the coin as dowry for yer daughters to assure a good match.”

The couple’s eyes widened in amazement at the large pile of gold, more money than either of them would ever have seen in their lifetimes. “Milord, we could not possibly…” Sean whispered.

Faolan cut him off with a curt wave. “Ye can and ye will,” he said. With a warm smile, he offered Colleen his arm. “Are ye ready to ride out, my love?”

Colleen gave him a sweet smile in return, her eyes full of love. “Wither thou goest, there goest I,” she said, tucking her hand in the crook of his proffered elbow.

Mairead gave a sudden gasp of horror. Before either could ask, she blurted out, “I wasn’t going to say anything, she bade not to speak of it…but I have to tell ye, milord….there was a grand lady as came by a day ago while I was out in the far pasture pickin’ berries for dinner, asking if I had seen a couple of travelers.” Her voice dropped to a cautious whisper. “She had an odd air about her; her eyes weren’t right. I’m thinkin’ she was one of the Daoine Sidhe.”

Sean hastily crossed himself. “Do not say such, woman. ’Tis bad luck.”

Faolan’s mouth tightened as the frightened woman continued on despite her husband’s warning. “She said that the man was a dark Scot and the woman pale as a winter morn,” Mairead told him. “She said ye were a powerful sorcerer, milord, and she a witch,” Nodding at Colleen, “and that ye were coming here to do us harm. At first I was scared when I saw ye, but I knew she lied when I saw ye look at yer lady, sir. Can’t no man look at his woman with so much love in his eyes and still do evil to honest folk,” she said, giving them both a radiant smile.

Colleen would have melted on the spot had Faolan not been holding her. She turned a shining smile of her own up to him, only to see the shadows passing over his face. “Call back yer children,” he ordered with a sigh of resignation.

Sean bellowed and within moments the four children stood by their parents, waiting expectantly. Faolan spoke again in the resonant voice, loud enough for all of them to hear.

“There were no strangers here. Ye,” He pointed to Padraig, “found the horse abandoned in the wood with coin still in the saddlebags. Hide the money well. Use it wisely. Mention it to no one.” Without another word, he lifted Colleen into the saddle and vaulted up behind her. He gave the horse his heels and they rode again toward the west, not looking back.

“They won’t remember us at all, will they,” Colleen murmured, looking back over her shoulder. None of the large family spared even a glance in their direction, going about their business as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“’Tis safer for them that way,” Faolan answered, staring straight ahead.

* * * *

Before long Colleen began to see mounds of gray limestone peeking out of the dirt then gradually covering the open countryside. Red honeysuckle, purple orchids and the bright yellow crobh ein bloomed in the cracks between the weathered stones. As soon as they stopped to make camp, she stretched her arms over her head then walked toward the rocks. “I’m going to pick a bouquet,” she announced.

Faolan ran after her, grabbing her wrist before she could pluck the colorful blooms. “Gather no flowers here,” he warned. “’tis a sacred place.”

His face was so serious she took a step back. “A…sacred place?” she asked, looking around at the field of strange stone stretching as far as she could see.

“Aye,” he said before turning back to resume setting up camp. She gave a longing glance back to the elusive flora and followed behind him, sighing as she went. Before long, he had a fire going. After hobbling the horse to crop the grass nearby, he settled down for the evening, sprawling out on the blanket after they ate. He patted the spot next to him. “Come lie down, Blossom. I’ve a need to feel yer body against me.”

Colleen heard thunder in the distance and shivered. “Aren’t we kinda out in the open here?” she asked, curling up beside him . “Doesn’t it sound like it’s going to storm?”

“It willna rain here tonight,” he said softly before adding, “but if it did, we can seek shelter beneath yonder stones.” He gestured toward the tall dolmen nearby, several massive stones crowned by a slab overhead. “I’ll keep ye safe, beloved. Ye have naught to fear.”

“I know you will,” Colleen smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. They sat in companionable silence, watching the sun set over the rocky terrain.

When the last of the sunlight faded into darkness, Faolan spoke. “These have been the happiest days I’ve had in centuries,” he said. “Being here with ye makes me think I’ve wandered into a wonderful dream.”

“A wonderful dream,” she echoed, tilting her face up kiss him on the cheek. She lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair from his eyes, but before she could lower it again, he caught it and pressed a kiss into her palm.

“Were I to ask, Colleen, would ye stay with me–here–forever?” His eyes were bright as he waited for her response but before she could speak he placed a finger over her lips. “Doona answer, Blossom. I’ll be happy thinking that ye would,” he smiled. “’Tis a hard life and after seeing how ye lived in yer world, ’twould not be fair to ask it of ye.”

He stretched out on the blanket, propping his head on one elbow thoughtfully. “Eire is fine enough, I suppose,” he began, “but if I could have one wish, I’d show ye my Highlands. I’d take ye to the tops of the mountains and show ye where the golden eagles nest. I want ye to see the sun rise and set over the moors. I want to make love to ye in the heather with the warm sun beating down on us.” His eyes widened as an idea occurred to him. “We could sail out to one of the far islands and have it all to ourselves, like Adam and Eve in our very own Eden. I’d take ye walking on the beach in the moonlight, and I wouldna have to share ye with anyone but the selkies.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d teach ye to ride and hunt and fish, mo ruadh, and bank the fires to keep ye warm through the cold winter months.” With a blissful sigh, he pulled her tight against him and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “‘Twould be heaven for sure,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice when his lips brushed her ear, “pizza or no.”

“As long as I’m with you,” Colleen murmured, snuggling in closer, “it doesn’t matter where–or when–we are.”

Faolan cradled her face in his hands. “We have no priest here, but…” His voice wavered before he squared his shoulders and continued “…but would you marry me now, Colleen?”

“How would we do that?” she whispered.

“This is how it used to be done in the country,” he said with a shy smile. “Young lovers doona wish to be made to wait for a travelling priest, so this vow bound the union until it could be blessed proper.” Taking her hands in his, he spoke in a voice soft and full of love. “Is tu fuil ‘o mo chuislean, is tu cnaimh de mo chnaimh. Is leatsa mo bhodhaig, chum gum bi sinn ‘n ar n-aon. Is leatsa m’anam gus an criochnaich ar saoghal.”

“Blood of my blood,” she murmured, having read Outlander at least a dozen times. She repeated the vow back to him in English. “You are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. I give you my body, that we two might be one. I give you my spirit, until our life shall be done.”

“Aye, beloved,” Faolan smiled, caressing her lips with his own. “Now yer truly mine, and I am yers, come what may.” Cradling the back of her head in his hand, he lowered her to the blanket, nothing more needing to be said.

When the full moon was high overhead, Faolan rose to his feet, pulling Colleen with him. “’Tis time,” he whispered.

“Time for what?” she asked, allowing him to pull her into his embrace and kiss her. It reminded her of the desperate kiss right before Aobhnait showed up and it put her immediately on guard.

“Whatever happens, Princess, know I love ye and that my heart goes with ye,” he said. “I’ll be needing my sgian dubh back for a moment. Ye stay here,” He pointed to the spot she now stood, “until I call ye, and for the love of all that’s holy be quiet.”

Her brows knit together and she pulled the short knife from its sheath, presenting it to him by the handle. Faolan took it with a small smile and walked to the edge of the stone field ten yards away. The wind carried his voice back to her, his strange words hushed and reverent in lyrical cadence. When he pointed the black knife to the sky, then to the earth, she watched with great interest, but when he drew the blade across his own hand and dripped the trickle of issuing blood onto the stones she let an involuntary gasp slip, and she saw his shoulders tense at the sound. Without turning to meet her eyes, he slowly lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head as if in prayer.

A minute went by, five, then ten. By then Colleen decided whatever was supposed to happen wasn’t going to and she stretched languidly. She had just taken a deep breath to call out to him when she noticed a strange mist had sprung up out of nowhere, rolling over the stone field with whispy tendrils preceding it. Within it were twinkling lights that grew larger and brighter by the minute. Colleen dropped to her knees and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the blinding glare.

Faolan had not moved from his kneeling position on the ground. The undulating mist lapped around his feet, covering his boots with spidery fingers of white. The air around him shimmered with magic, and with a slight pang of nausea Colleen realized for the first time they were not alone.

There were dozens, maybe a hundred–beings, for lack of a better word–standing in the stone field. She knew at once they were fae. Their unearthly beauty and preternatural grace were a dead giveaway. She bit her lower lip to keep from giggling out of rampant nervousness–one faery was bad enough, but the ground was thick with them, popping up out of the mist like supernatural whack-a-moles…she bit down harder.

Most of the host chose to ignore her; some eyed her with bored curiosity, a few with open hostility. When the most beautiful creature Colleen had ever seen walked from the center of the crowd the gasp she had tried to stifle escaped and she stood watching with her mouth agape at the spectacle.

The luminous female seemed to glide over the rocky terrain, her gossamer robe billowing around her. Long pale hair ruffling in the slight breeze framed an almost childlike face with large slanted eyes. She paused before the still kneeling Faolan. With one pale hand she caressed his hair then tilted his chin up to meet her face. “We are pleased to see you, Faolan of Alba. It has been too long since last we have had the pleasure of your company.”

The corners of his mouth twitched at her formality. “Ye honor me, Queen Aoibhell,” Faolan said gravely, bowing his head again. She took his hand and gently raised him up.

“What brings you to our court on such a fair evening?” she smiled, her voice like tiny silver bells on the wind. “Another race with my Consort? He has spoken of it often. I know he would be greatly desirous of such a match.” Her voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “I fear he feels the need to redeem himself.”

“Nay, my Queen. I come before ye to seek a boon, not for myself but for someone greatly wronged by a member of yer court,” Faolan explained. He told her the entire story of his involvement with Aobhnait and bowed his head again. “I ask no recompense for myself, Majesty, but for someone I hold dear.”

He winked at Colleen, holding out a hand in invitation for her to join him at his side. Colleen wobbled over on unsteady legs, slipping her hand into his. The Queen appraised her with mild interest then gave Faolan an expectant look.

“My Queen, may I present to ye Colleen O’Brien,” he said with a smile. “Colleen, her Majesty Queen Aoibhell, ruler of the Seelie Court of the Tuatha De Danann.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

After a moment Colleen realized what was expected and dropped into a deep curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” she mumbled, not daring to look up at the faery’s face.

The queen stroked Colleen’s cheek, a soft touch like a spring breeze. “A charming creature,” Aoibhell murmured with a sweet smile, “and she is yours, Faolan?”

“Aye, Majesty, she is,” he nodded. Giving Colleen’s hand a tug to rise, he added, “and I have wronged her as well. Fortunately, she has seen fit to forgive my transgressions.” He went on to tell the Queen the rest of the story of meeting Colleen and how love had Blossomed and grown between them.

The faery turned a solemn gaze to Colleen. “Does he speak true?” she asked, a heavy note of resignation in her voice.

Unable to stop herself, Colleen bobbed a reflexive curtsey. “Yes, ma’am,” she assured her with a vigorous nod. “Every last bit of it.”

Even frowning, Aoibhell was still beautiful. When she raised a delicate hand, two courtiers stood immediately by her side. “Bring me Aobhnait,” she ordered. “She has much to answer for.”

They were gone in the blink of an eye, and it was only seconds before the air shimmered next to the Queen. Flanked on either side by the two males Aobhnait appeared, her mouth bent into a cruel bow. “As a friend of our court, Faolan of Alba has recounted the most interesting tale. Is it true?” the Queen demanded.

The look on Aobhnait’s face was murderous, glaring daggers first at Faolan, then at Colleen. She nodded once with a jerky tilt of her head. “Yes, my Queen, it’s true. But–”

“Silence,” the queen snapped. “You disappoint me, Aobhnait.”

“Your Majesty,” Aobhnait insisted, “I beg you hear my side. This…human man deceived me.” She spat the words out as if they were distasteful. Turning a bitter scowl upon Faolan she continued. “He led me on with his pretty words and used me freely until he found another to replace me. “Tis he who has earned your wrath, my Queen, not I.”

Faolan shook his head. “She lies, Majesty,” he said, his voice flat. “I laid with her but once and then only because she lured me to it. I was but a man and weak for the touch of a woman.” He regarded Aobhnait with an icy coldness that almost had Colleen feeling sorry for the faery. “How did I ever think ye beautiful?” he asked, more to himself than anyone. “’Tis plain to see that faery glamour does not a real woman make.”

A gasp rippled through the observers. “I’ll not stand here and–” Aobhnait wailed in outrage.

“Enough,” Queen Aoibhell said, her voice sharp. “Aobhnait, this is not the first time you have meddled in the affairs of men. You have yet again violated the sacred compact between the Tuatha De and the humans, and my patience with you has reached its end.” Turning her back, the diminutive queen faced Colleen. “You have indeed been greatly wronged,” the Queen agreed, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “and she will be dealt with. Perhaps forbidden the Earth for a thousand years or so.”

Aobhnait’s face twisted into a mask of rage, disbelief and despair. “Your Majesty, you cannot mean to–”

The tiny monarch took no notice of her blustering. “Take her to my palace,” she instructed the courtiers, “and hold her there until I decide her fate.”

Colleen had to snap her mouth shut once again as the three fae just…weren’t there anymore. Silence fell as the Queen turned to Faolan, waiting for him to speak.

Faolan cleared his throat. “I am aware of the compact between fae and human, my Queen. I know also of the pact ye have made with the royalty of this land. Colleen is an ancestral daughter of the High King Brian Boru, and ye have sworn yer protection to all his descendents who ask it of ye.”

Aoibhell inclined her head in agreement. “This is so. What do you request?” she asked, turning her iridescent eyes to Colleen.

Colleen stared blankly back at her then gave Faolan a confused gaze. “What is she asking me?” Colleen said in a hushed whisper.

“She’s granting ye a wish, Blossom,” Faolan whispered. “Any wish ye want, so choose wisely. If ye want to go home, now would be the time to say so.”

Colleen nibbled on her bottom lip as she thought, knowing she had to get the words exactly right. Before she could speak, however, Faolan pulled her into a crushing embrace and claimed her mouth as his own. Her arms immediately flew up and encircled his neck, holding him tightly to her. “I love ye, Colleen,” he whispered against her lips before kissing her again.

“And I love you,” she said, gently disentangling herself from his embrace and taking him by the hand. “I know what I want to wish for,” she announced. “I wish for us–Faolan and me–to be just like we were before Aobhnait screwed everything up.”

“Done.”

Before she could even blink, Colleen felt herself being sucked back into the swirling black vortex, spinning out of control as she tumbled end over end. She tried to curl into a ball to minimize the abrasive wind, but her limbs felt numb and prickly, like they had been asleep. Ice pelted her face and she ducked her head to avoid the sharp fragments flying in the maelstrom around her.

She awoke lying face down on a soft surface. Without opening her eyes, she tentatively ran her hand over it then cracked one eye open to find that she was…lying on the floor in the doorway of her bedroom. It was dark out, and the living room lights were on.

“It worked,” Colleen shrieked as she rose to her feet and ran for the living room. “Oh, Faolan, we’re hom…” her voice trailed off. She stood rooted to the spot, the horror robbing her of all breath.

The coffee table was back.