Fallon winced. Wasn't that exactly what she'd scorned the English for? Their loathing of people just because they were Irish? She'd never thought that such prejudice was a knife that could cut both ways.
She closed her eyes, hardly noticing where Ciaran took her, misery a knot in her chest. She wanted to smooth away the tightness about his mouth, wanted him to kiss and laugh, wanted to feed him ripe, crimson cherries and pretend to enchant him the way the fairies had enchanted Ciaran of the Mist.
Yet when she opened her eyes again, she saw something that made her heart squeeze. He was taking her to the castle on the sea cliffs. To the place where magic began. Was it possible there was enough enchantment left to wash away the doubts clouding his eyes, asking a thousand questions?
Towers of stone still soared skyward. Garlands of rose-tinted mist draped the gray stone. Arched windows in broken walls shaped the light, while intrepid wildflowers nestled into any small pocket of earth, blooming between the cracks in the stone.
Her place.
Ciaran dismounted, then reached up to help Fallon down. He peered into her lovely face, feeling suddenly, achingly unsure.
"Ciaran," she began then gave a strained laugh. "I-I mean, James. I should grow used to calling you that, shouldn't I?"
"I suppose." He looked so bleak she couldn't bear it. "But—"
"What is it? What is wrong? Something is. I can tell." She was babbling. But she was afraid. To lose him to death would have been unthinkable. But to lose even some tiny part of his heart while he lived would be torture. "Please, tell me what you're thinking."
He paced to the nearest stone wall, pressed his palm against it. "I'm an intruder here now. Not part of the magic anymore."
"You can't know—"
"No, Fallon. Let me say this. If I am a Butler, I'm part of a family who has let their people suffer for generations. Abandoned them to hunger, to cold, let them die hopeless." The words were laced with despair, far deeper than when he'd faced hanging.
"You were a child when your father stole you away—" she began, desperate to comfort him, but he laid his fingertips on her lips. His eyes burned with pain and hope, sadness and love, the expression of a man suddenly, terribly lost.
"You wed a stranger, a man with no name," he insisted. "A man you thought was a hero born in the legends you love. Now they say that I'm English. James Butler. I don't even know what kind of man he was, what kind of manIam."
"But I do know," she said fiercely. "A name can never change who you are. A man who would give his cloak to shield an old woman from the rain. A hero who would sacrifice his life for those weaker, more helpless than he. Whatever blood flows through your veins, this much I can tell you. You have an Irish heart."
A soft groan tore from his throat. "Ah, Fallon, I love you so much. But you vowed you'd die before you wed an Englishman. That it would make you a traitor to the people you loved. If you have any doubts now, any fears—lady, I will set you free."
"Is that... is that why... why you looked as if you were hurting? Did you think for even a moment..."
"You were so still, so pale, when Scargill identified me, I thought perhaps you might have regrets. That was always my greatest fear—that if I ever discovered who I was, it might somehow hurt you. That was the one thing I could never bear. You believed in me so fiercely I wanted to be a hero in your eyes. Now, this changes things."
"No." She curved her hand along the hard line of his jaw, her thumb stroking his lower lip. "I love you, no matter what the world calls you. I want you in my arms, in my bed. Forever."
Her voice broke, tears burning her eyes. "All my life, I believed that happy endings were for other people. I would always be alone. I was brave enough to dream of castles and heroes bewitched by enchanted cherries. But I didn't have the courage to dream about someone who would love me forever, someone who would never leave me."
"If you want me, Fallon, then no power on earth could take me from you."
"I want you more than dreams or magic or bard song. I love you more than the mist or the sea or the castle."
His eyes burned. "The first time you brought me here, took me down into the souterrains, I felt something... something I can't explain. That no one ever leaves this land completely. That no matter where else on earth they wander, they return—to the hills and the sea, the cliffs and the castle. If I had died—"
"Don't even say it!" Tears broke free, trailed down her cheeks. "If I'd lost you—"
"You never could. I'd wait for you here. And when you closed your eyes in eternal sleep, I'd carry you in my arms to whatever comes after."
He smiled, believing in Fallon's dreams. "And when our babes are born, we'll bring them here."
"And we'll tell them about a lonely girl who came here, searching for a legend,” Fallon said. “What she found was so much better."
"What was that,mo chroi?" Ciaran whispered, drawing her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"She found you." Fallon raised her gaze to his, her eyes filled with tears. "That is when she discovered what the real magic was, the magic she'd been seeking forever. Love. You'll always be my very own Ciaran of the Mist."
"And you the valiant maiden who set me free from the fairies' spell."
