"Nay. But she is far away from everything shehas ever known. And you sent her out into the wilds without a moment's pause just to defy me. If anything happens to her, it will be on your head!" Niall swung up on his horse. "Which way did she go?"
"That way." Fiona pointed west. She caught the horse's rein. "I will go, too. I did not—not think—"
"Go in the direction of Killian's old holdings. I will search along the stream." Niall urged his horse west, praying to a God he only half believed was real. How the devil was he going to find her?
He could not guess how long he rode, knew only that the thread of panic raveling in his gut unnerved him. He felt so helpless as his narrowed eyes searched the horizon. At first, all he could do was try to guess what path she might take— one the most lush with growing things, the plants she was seeking. Aye, and the path most pleasing to the eye. She had been drawn to the beauty of the sea as if led by a silver ribbon.
Niall still felt a pang at the image that sprang to his mind, a raven-tressed water sprite racing toward the waves, her joy in the moment so complete that she had not realized the danger that lurked there until it was too late.
This land had once been so rich and verdant itseemed to cradle one in the palm of its hand. But Niall's travels across Daire had shown the countryside now wore a far different face. Destruction. A land grown so wild it could be unforgiving.
Worse still, he did not even dare to call her name. It was far too dangerous. And the farther he rode, the more clearly he remembered that this land was full of dips and hollows, copses of trees and tiny hidden glens, a wealth of places he had hidden in as a boy. A situation made all the more difficult because Caitlin would be trying to keep out of sight.
If not for tracking skills learned in years of raiding, he would have had no hope of finding her at all. It seemed she moved like a fairy, leaving little sign she had passed. Even broken twigs and crushed bits of grass might have been left by some wild creature passing by.
But the footprint in the mud at the stream bank—that he was almost certain was hers. And the trail that began nearby of cloth sacks, carefully dampened and tucked in the shade, their burden of green things that had not wilted, gave Niall the first hope that he might actually find her.
He wiped sweat from his brow with the backof one hand as his gaze swept another green hillock. Strange. In the days he had roamed the countryside of his childhood he had not once ridden these western lands. He had stayed away on purpose, this part of the estate the most beautiful of all, his father's favorite.
This was the place where memories clung, thick as the spiderwebs that had spanned the Sea Chamber where Caitlin had slept. And all Niall wanted was to forget.
Yet the farther he rode, the more it seemed the land itself was playing a cruel jest more disturbing than any Fiona could have concocted. Caitlin was traveling the path he had taken so many times before as a child balanced astride his father's mighty ghost-gray stallion.
Nay, part of him pleaded,do not go on. But painful as it was, his memory plunged forward, memories dangling ripe as fruits over his head. Laughter, sunshine, the clean sweep of wind in his face. A glade so enchanted it seemed to hold magic of its own. A magic his family had reveled in. He could see it all, feel it all, taste it all, as if it had been yesterday.
Fiona, toddling about the berry bushes, insisting on picking the fruit herself. Grabbing the bright, juicy berries and crushing them tight inher little fists so they could not escape. Pleasure changing to puzzlement as she stared into her palm, trying to figure out where her treasure had gone.
Her little pink tongue licking off the streams of juice and pulp that remained. Then her fierce determination as she charged after another berry.
His mother, her eyes shining with pleasure and love, a flower crown upon her hair. The fairy queen, she was, destined to preside over the mock battle to come. But most painful and precious of all the memories was the gift his father had given him. Niall could remember how tight he had clutched it in his small, grubby hands.
The memories clutched at his chest until he wanted to shove them away, wanted to hold them forever. But he would never know which he would have chosen.
At that instant, Niall heard a rustle among the trees, glimpsed the slightest flash of movement. Caitlin. Relief surged through him, banishing all but the hollow ache of loss from moments before as he peered down at her.
Fragile flower petals of palest pink clung like pearls to the dark crown of her hair. Her body, slender and supple as a willow frond, bent and swayed at her task, a song rippling softly fromher throat. Niall stilled, watching her. Fiona had been wrong when she claimed no one would recognize Caitlin in the disguise she had made. Niall would have known her anywhere. But it was not her beauty that betrayed her. Rather, it was her smile, her song, the way her face turned to the sun. No one he had ever known could glow so brightly as she delved into such simple pleasures.
His throat tightened, his gladness at finding her startling him so much it terrified him.
He knew the instant she saw him. Dismay and guilt raced across her delicate features then changed lightning swift to the resignation of one who was well used to being caught in her share of mischief.
He rode toward her, slowly, deliberately. When his mount was nearly nose-to-nose with her, he glared down and spoke. "I told you not to leave the castle."
She turned pleading eyes up to his. "I know you were worried about someone catching a glimpse of me, but I was careful, Niall. I saw no one. I swear it. And it seemed so important to--" She stopped, suddenly wary. A blush claimed her cheeks, and she retreated a step. She was protecting his hell-born sister, Niall knew with sudden certainty. As if Fiona needed it!
"I know full well that Fiona is behind this madness," he said. "You need not try to hide the truth."
The nervousness fled from Caitlin, her leaf-spattered shoulders squared. "If you choose to blame anyone for this, Niall, blame me. I make my own choices."
"And brilliant ones they are, lady. Hauling me up that cliff after I had tried to kill you.”
"It sorted out well enough in the end, did it not? You did not hurt me."
"But I could have! I should have, considering the orders I had been given." Niall sighed, taking in the stubborn jut of her chin. He might as well be talking to Fiona.
"Niall, Fiona did want me to gather plants, but that was not the only reason I went wandering. I am not used to being locked away inside all the time. I was restless. I did not mean to wander so far. Intended to be back long before—before you returned."
"That much I believe."
