"Not to deceive you, but so you would not worry. You carry so much on your shoulders now." She peered up at him with such tenderness his breath caught in his throat. "I have no excuse to offer except that the day was so beautiful it washard to resist. And this place, Niall! It must be the loveliest place in the world! And it only grew more lovely the farther I came."
Niall understood the lure far too well. As a boy, this land had always seemed like an enchanted road leading him toward something so magical he could not even imagine it. But he had never guessed what he would find here as a man—a fairy maid, the embodiment of every dream he had never allowed himself to have.
He wanted to grab Caitlin, lash his horse into a run. Ride far away from this place that made him burn and ache like the rawest, and yet, most precious of wounds. But he was stunned to realize that for the first time since he had ridden up to the crumbling castle, confronted the ruin, not only of his future but his past, he felt as if he could breathe. Why? Because at last he had faced not only the grim memories but those other, bright-spun moments of the past, ones he had feared, avoided for so long.
This would be the most painful place he could ever return to, he thought resolutely. Once he had seen it again, the worst would be over. It could not haunt him anymore. He swung down from his horse.
"I have one question for you, madam," he said,leveling her a hard stare. "Exactly how were you planning to haul all these heavy sacks back to the castle?" He pointed to yet another dampened, dirt-stained, overstuffed bag bristling with green things.
Caitlin gulped. "In a way, Niall, I—I am most glad to see you. You see, I fear I grew a trifle—er—greedy."
At his reluctant chuckle, she dared flash him a smile. "Niall, this is such a wondrous place! Treasures everywhere! It is just like a fairy bower! How could you bear to leave it?" She stopped, aghast. "Forgive me. I did not mean—"
He hated the way her face fell, the banishment of joy. Oddly, it troubled him more than the pain of his own past. The past was a mere shadow, already gone. Caitlin was here. Now. Living, not dead like this part of his life.
"My father said this was the heart of Daire land," Niall said, wanting to comfort her. "We owed it to the land to leave this place untouched, for this heart was the power that gave the rest of the estate its bounty."
"How beautiful," she breathed. "If land can have a heart—aye, and a soul—I am certain your father was right."
"He claimed it belonged to the fairies, but Ithink he just loved it for its beauty. He had found something so rare he wanted to leave it as he found it. Perfect. Untouched." Why was his gaze drawn irresistibly to Caitlin's face when he said it?
She flushed pink. "The plants, then, I should not have disturbed them."
"Even the fairies would consider it an honor that Caitlin of the Lilies had found their growing things worthy to gather." A petal clung to her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb.
Surprise widened her eyes, and a shy pleasure that made him want to share more.
"We came here the day before my father was taken prisoner," he said. "All four of us. Mother and Fiona on one horse. Father and I on another. He had been away nearly two months. There had been trouble. Mother wept and made us pray for the man who was Father's dearest friend. He had died, but I could not fathom why she was crying. He was a warrior. He had died fighting."
It was the death Niall had wanted for himself for so many years. Why did it suddenly seem such a waste as he stood here, watching the sun chase blue-black shimmers through Caitlin's hair?
"I cannot say how, but I sensed that something was different. Something amiss. Father told mymother everything had been made right. But perhaps somewhere deep inside, he already knew he had but a little time left. I was not afraid. My father could fend off sea monsters, dragons, whole armies of wicked warriors. He was Ronan of Daire, a hero bards sang praises of. What could ever defeat such a man?"
"It must have been such a gift, feeling so safe."
"I did not know it then. Took for granted he would always be there, constant as the sun and moon. Such certainty only made it even more painful when he was gone." Niall's voice dropped, low. "That last day, Father did give me a gift. A wooden sword. He presented it to me as if I were a warrior grown. Commanded me to guard my mother and sister. My chest nearly burst with pride." Niall winced. "I made poor work of the mission he gave me, did I not?"
"You did the best you could. You were a boy, hurting, confused. Your father would have understood."
"I am a man now. The excuse sounds hollow." He did not know what force drove him to act—regret, guilt, or the power of all the love he had once believed was his? Niall only knew he suddenly needed to see that place again. Needed to show Caitlin.
He took her hand, led her up the hill. It had been their own special kingdom—his mother's and Fiona's, his father's. His own. As a boy, Niall had believed if they stayed there forever, they would be immortal, like the warrior Oisín who had traveled to the Land of the Ever Young.
"There is a standing stone above the rise," he explained, "with carvings like those near the abbey." But as they crested the hill, it was not the ancient stone that held him transfixed. It was something else, something that altered the place forever.
A cairn of piled stones laid beneath the tree where they had eaten a feast that long-ago day, the last time they would break bread together as a family. Niall's throat closed as he stared at the large mound of heavy stones.
A grave. It could only be his father's.
He glanced at Caitlin for an instant, saw understanding fill her eyes.
"Your father," she breathed.
He nodded, turned back to the cairn. No weeds sprouted up around its base, no vines trailed across it. It was clean-swept, tended as if someone came to it often. Fiona, Niall thought, his heart twisting. Such unexpected tenderness from a neglected child. A girl fighting to surviveyet still taking precious time to remember... berries on a summer's day, games of sea monster and dragon fire. Fiona trying to remember what it felt like to be loved, to be cared for, to be safe.
A bunch of fading flowers marked the top of the stones. Caitlin bent to touch them, her face soft with sorrow.
But as some of the wilted blossoms fell away, Niall froze, staring at what lay half-hidden beneath them. A small wooden sword.
