Closing his eyes tight, Niall reached out with all his will. "Give me a sign, you dwellers of the hills. Fintan, I am blinded, like you. I know not what to do. Should I keep Caitlin here, at Daire, or carry her away to Iona, leave her...?" He could not finish, his throat cinched so tight. Bleak, unthinkable, the possibility he would have to leave his lady behind.
"I will do it, curse you all!" Niall roared aloud. "Turn my back on her on some far-flung isle. Walk away. But only if you give me some sign she will be safe. Speak to me, curse you! Fintan! Father!"
Was it desperation? Fury? A conjuring of his imagination? Stone burned, alive in an instant,pulsing beneath his hands. Niall's eyes flew open, but he did not draw away.
"Answer for her, Fintan, if not for me. If ever you loved your daughter—"
Thunder cracked, shattering a cloudless sky. Jaw clenching, Niall only ground his palms tighter against the rough surface. A cry of anguish, denial, ripped from Niall's throat. The pulse in the stone grew fainter, the surface suddenly, painfully cold. Dead.
Niall let his hands fall to his sides. He staggered a few steps away, sagged down onto the ground, and buried his face in his hands.
The old ones had answered without words. The future he had dared to dream of in Caitlin's arms would never be. But had he not known from that dream's first stirring it was madness? How could a hero like Fintan give his daughter to a man forsworn?
Niall's gut burned with loss but there was one thing he could be grateful for. He had not been reckless enough to let Caitlin guess the pretty illusions his heart had been painting. Despite the nights they had shared their bodies, she would never suspect he had hoped they might share a future. Fill Castle Daire with their loving, theirlaughter, a flock of babes with his eyes and Caitlin's valiant spirit.
A low moan tore from Niall at the image he had cherished throughout those beautiful nights—Caitlin's body swelling with the sweet fruit of their loving, Caitlin drowsing in the crook of his arm, while their dark-curled babe suckled at her breast. A family for Niall and his lady. A precious place where they could both belong. But those babes would live only in Niall's imagination now.
His throat knotted, his chest burned, and for a moment he could envy his mother, wandering in the shadow world where dreams were real, the dead walked beside one, and love could work miracles even beyond the grave. But no such sweet escape waited for him. He had to think clearly enough to spirit Caitlin off to safety. He had to be strong enough to let her go.
Wearily, Niall dragged himself to his feet and trudged toward the hollow where his horse stood, grazing. He grabbed the reins, readying himself to swing up onto the horse's broad back. Suddenly, he froze, stunned, awed, his heart taking flight.
A sign. He had asked for a sign! But never had he guessed what it would be. He laughed, staringinto the shadows, in wonder, knowing what he would do.
He would carry his offering back to the castle, kneel before Caitlin, before Fiona and his mother. He would tell them of the miracle the old ones had granted and offer them one of his own: the magic of new beginnings.
For six nights,twilight had been a greening time, promising fresh rapture with each new banner of rose or gold that unfurled across the horizon. Darkness became an ally who would bring Niall to her side.
But as Caitlin peered out the open doorway into the arch of landscape beyond, the world appeared suddenly dreary, even the faint flickering of the stars no longer offering her comfort.
The sharp yearning she had suffered weeks before, when she had struggled to maintain a link with the abbess, had dulled. Tonight, as the moon's silver light brimmed over the lip of its emerald chalice of fields, she felt a far more powerful tug deep in her chest. Caitlin glanced over toward the hearth, where Fiona perched near her mother, every muscle in the girl's body twitchingwith barely leashed energy, like a frightened bird poised for flight. Her eyes glinted, feverish bright, her gestures a little more reckless, her laughter high-pitched and wild. Aniera had not noticed any difference in her daughter, but ever since Gormley had left the castle, Fiona had fairly sizzled with restlessness, trying with all her might to hide any hint of self-blame. But the girl was eaten alive with it, no matter how often Caitlin had tried to soothe her.
Caitlin's heart squeezed. If only she could find some way to make Fiona believe the truth! The confrontation with Gormley had been frightening and Caitlin was angry at how heedlessly Fiona had cast herself into such danger. But much as Caitlin was dreading Niall's reaction when he learned what had happened, she could only thank God she had been there, able to help Fiona out of trouble when the girl's plans went awry.
Aye, Caitlin thought, chagrined. There was a reason she no longer wished for the abbey, for the sights and scents that were so familiar. Somehow, during these past, precious days, she had discovered something as astonishing as it was wondrous and unnerving.
Daire was home.
The first real home she had ever known.
Caitlin winced. What was she thinking, growing to love this place so much? The crumbling castle, more hospitable to spiders and mice than people. The gentle old woman who wandered a fairy world. A rebellious girl who would rather leap from castle roof than admit she needed anyone. And a man so battered, so betrayed, he might never be able to love anyone, especially when he loathed himself.
They were nothing like what she had imagined as a girl dreaming in the convent, and yet, when Caitlin had least expected it, the three of them had become the family she had longed for all her life.
But they were not hers, had never been hers, Caitlin reminded herself grimly. So why did she feel so bereft at the thought of what she must do?
She shuddered, moving through the dreaded paces in her imagination as she had all that endless afternoon. She had dreamed of running into Niall's arms when he returned, laughing and loving and welcoming him home as she had vowed to. Show her beloved warrior he was not alone. But now she would meet Niall at the doorway, tell him what had transpired with that vile cur Gormley. And in so doing, she would put anend to any hopes or dreams she might have, impossible as they had been.
For there was little doubt in Caitlin's mind what Niall would do once he learned what had happened. He would sweep them all away from Daire like a hound snatching his flock from beneath the jaws of a wolf pack. He would carry her far away, leave her behind.
Unless... unless she kept her secret, swore Fiona to silence. Unless she told him she had lost the bracelet somewhere in her wanderings and with that lie placed all of Daire in horrible danger because of her own selfish needs.
Caitlin blinked back tears. Nay. Better to be honest. From the beginning, Niall had intended to leave her behind, had he not? On that enchanted night he had first kissed her, he had agreed to attempt to mend his relationship with his sister, not reclaim his family. He had promised to give his mother some happiness, not take his place again as her son. And he had come to Caitlin's bed to share physical passion with her, not to give the love she so craved.
She was the one who had longed for more, clung to false hopes, stubbornly refusing to imagine what it would be like when the game was done and she was left alone.
Shivering, she paced toward the open door, the wind brushing wisps of curls across cheeks wet with unbidden tears. She dashed them away then wrapped her arms about her middle, pretending it was Niall who held her. She imagined that time could stand still, everything remain as it was.
But it seemed the fates were jealous of even this short, stolen time. Hoof beats drummed nearer, the familiar if curiously slow approach of Niall's horse.
