Suddenly chilled, Niall lowered Caitlin to the ground. So light was she, her feet made scarce a sound, but in that instant, he could hear the sky crashing down around them.
He had heard the love legend a hundred times in all its beauty and tragedy, but never had the tale of Deirdre and Naisi touched him until this night. Ill-fated lovers racing across Ireland, hunted by a king, only the night sky and the standing stones to shield them. But in the end, they had died, their hearts broken by fate.
The tale moved Caitlin as well. He could feel itas she pressed one cheek against his heart, her arms twining about his waist. Holding her, both unmoving in the moonlight, Niall listened, ached. And as the boy's haunting voice mourned the tragic lovers' deaths, Niall felt Caitlin's hot tears soak through the wool of his garments.
His arms gathered her even closer, some irrational part of himself thinking that if he could only hold on tight enough, nothing could ever make this precious woman cry again. His warrior's body, which had endured the bite of countless sword blades, the stab of spears in battle, could finally suffer wounds that mattered, wounds gained in shielding this miracle he held in his arms.
It seemed he held her forever. Forever was too short a time. And in those moments, he knew what Naisi felt, the desperation, the terror, as his love was ripped from his arms.
He groaned a protest as Caitlin pushed herself away from him, but he released her, knowing it was a fleeting privilege she had allowed him when she had melted into his arms seeking comfort.
She raised her tear-streaked face to his and rubbed at the damp spot she had left on his chest. "Forgive me. I could not help but weep." She bither lip as if to steady herself. "The tale was so beautiful, so sad."
Niall wiped away the droplets that still clung to her cheeks. "I wished only joy for you this night. I would I could spare you tears."
"You cannot, Niall, no matter how much you might wish it." Her face grew pensive, earnest, heartbreakingly resolute. "There could be no joy without sorrow, just as there could be no day without the dark of night. When I was at the abbey, I never wept. Everything there was so quiet, so safe. Even death was nothing to mourn. It was a gentle journey from the trials of earth to heavenly bliss."
Niall could not imagine such a serene existence, a peace his questing spirit had never known. To him, death had always glistened blood-bright on the blade of a sword, a gateway to the glory of legends or to the anonymity of an unmourned grave.
"And as for our days," Caitlin continued, "each one was so much alike, I could scarce tell one from another."
"You loved it there." Why did that make him feel somehow bereft?
"Saint Mary's was the most gentle of dreams, Niall. But I was asleep behind its walls. Therewere so many things I never felt until I rode through the gate in your arms."
Niall touched her hair, guilt clenching him tight in its fist. "I taught you well in the days since I took you from the abbey, did I not, Lily Fair? Taught you about treachery and betrayal, hatred and fear. Unveiled all the ugly dark corners of men's souls. If I could, I would take all those shadows back again, so you could be free and happy, as you were before I charged into your life."
"Nay!" Her gaze flashed to his, almost alarmed. "I would not turn back to that quiet dream for something so fleeting as safety. I would run to meet whatever fortune offered, the way Deirdre did in the boy's song. Joy, adventure, and a love so great no sword blade ever forged could sever it—they would be worth any forfeit destiny could demand. If I could not have forever, I would drink in whatever the fates allowed me, and I would be grateful."
A flush spread over her cheeks, visible even in the uncertain light of the moon. She looked away, silent.
Niall could not allow her to hide herself away. He cupped her chin in his hand, turned her face up to his. "You would be grateful for what is good,is that not what you believe?" It was an echo of what he had said to Fiona days before.
Caitlin shrugged. "I would rather embrace life than hide from it. But there is no help for that in the days to come. Conn's power is far-reaching. Word travels between clans. I cannot place anyone else in danger as I have done to you."
"Caitlin—" He started to object.
"Nay, Niall. We both know it is true. I will have no choice but to secret myself away. I only wish..." Her lips trembled.
"Wish what?" Niall asked, vowing to capture the moon if it would make her smile.
"I wish that before I leave the world of the living again, I could know what it feels like to... to be loved by a man as Deirdre was. Feel passion and life and magic just once before I have to hide away, alone."
Niall peered down at her, so innocent, so beautiful. Aye, it was a tragedy. Caitlin, so full of love never to be bestowed on any man, never to be lavished on a bevy of blue-eyed babes with thick black curls like her own.
Caitlin, who embraced life with such passion, never to know what it felt like to share her body as well as her valiant spirit. From the first moment he had seen her in the druid glen, he hadknown she was more of earth than heaven, more fairy than angel. A woman destined to revel in the sweet bounty of her body's pleasure, and that of a man with the courage to match her, gift for gift.
Regret burned through Niall, the impossible wish that he could somehow transform himself into the kind of man Caitlin needed, the lover she deserved.
But that longing was as futile as the yearning he had felt at his father's cairn, when he had wished he could turn back time until he could see his father again as the bold, noble hero he had once believed in.
He started to look away, the music saddened, the dancing dimmed, the pleasure he had sought in Caitlin's company seeming only a taunting dream. Then he saw the plea dove-soft in her eyes.
She wanted him. The knowledge reverberated through every fiber of his being.
With eyes guileless as the first woman desiring the first man in the magical innocence of the beginning of time, Caitlin was asking him to take her away. To lay her back in the soft, sweet grass and strip away the layers of cloth between them. She was asking him to make love to her for the first time, perhaps the only time. The onlychance this bright, loving woman might ever have to feel a man's touch.
And he wanted to give her everything she desired. God help him, he did. "Caitlin." He fought to keep his voice steady. "It would be madness to make love to you. Too dangerous."
