Page 27 of Shaw

Fiacail sighed. “Do you no’ despise the life you live now?”

“You shut your mouth,” Mace said and dropped an armload of driftwood in between them. She crouched down to tuck some dried grass in the center. “Derdrui’s done naught for us but demand we serve. Aye, long ago she taught us of our powers, and how we might steal the lives of mortals, yet never more. For that paltry offering we sold ourselves into eternal servitude.” She jerked a thumb at Speal. “And this one, she’s kept your wretched promise so we might yet live. You might have returned and given us aid, but you didnae. You’re useless and spiteful.”

“’Tis true I forced that oath on you and the sisterhood,” Fiacail said before Speal could reply. “Blame me for such, only permit me provide recompense.”

“Ever you speak so grand.” The shifter spat on the ground. “You wish use us for your own purpose, just as the enchantress does. You may wrap such in pretty words and promises as you wish, only dinnae reckon me deceived. Nor Speal. She sees the madness in you.”

Speal said nothing as she watched Mace light the dried grass with her fire steel, and then noticed Fiacail drawing back as flames quickly engulfed the dried wood.

“You’ve a new weakness, dinnae you?” As their former leader glared at her she grinned with pleasure at having fathomed that. “First water, now fire. Why dinnae you use such and destroy this merrow master of yours, then? Do such and I may believe you’ve our best interests at heart.”

“I cannae transform our sisters to live in the sea,” Fiacail snapped. “Once he changes all of you so you may breathe water, and we conquer his people, then we may end him.” Her lips curved. “Indeed, I relish the notion of tasting his cold blood.”

“Imagine you the merrow people shall welcome us to rule over them?” Speal chuckled. “You ken naught of them, do you? Look at your master, and ken they shall prove the same.”

For the first time Fiacail looked uneasy. “We neednae remain in his kingdom once it falls. Indeed, we may found our own. ’Tis no end to what we may do in the water or on the land–”

“Mortals whose kin we slew, they’ve hunted us for generations. Now the druids shall never cease pursuing us for Dearg’s butchering their Aberdeen tribe,” Speal reminded her. “You truly believe the merrow folk shall forgive us murdering their king, and installing this traitor on his throne? And what of Derdrui? She’s immortal, and the most vicious Fae to ever roam the mortal realm. Reckon you she’d no’ mind the Cait Sith breaking their oath of loyalty?”

“Then what shall we do?” the altered shifter demanded. “I must appease Duxor, and you Derdrui. He shall accept no less than every Cait Sith joining his army.”

“You hold the power over this merrow,” Speal countered. “Once he’s changed us he shallnae need you. We dinnae ken how our sisters shall react to becoming halfling merrows. They may all turn on us.” When Fiacail said nothing Speal finally lost her temper. “We’re your kin, loyal and true. ’Tisnae one of us who wouldnae trade places with you that day Derdrui set Dearg on you. When you died, a part of us did as well.”

Fiacail rose and walked a short distance away, standing for so long Speal wondered if she meant to abandon her. Then slowly she trudged back, kneeling before her and bowing her head like some young, errant shifter ready for punishment—a humbling position Speal had herself taken too many times in the past.

“What wish you me do, then?” she said, not looking at her.

“Promise Duxor whatever he wishes, as long as he first meets with Derdrui to parlay with her. You shall remain at his side, as if his willing servant. Say naught of what you ken, and permit them meet.” Speal grinned. “Once the enchantress learns he comes from Caladh, she shallnae rest until he tells her where she may find the MacMar.”

Fiacail lifted her head. “You reckon they’ll end each other?”

“Aye.” Suddenly everything seemed promising again. “I shall pray they do.”

Julianne followed Shaw into his quarters, and watched him light a fire with his blow-torch touch. Being alone with him in a room with a bed was probably not a lit idea, especially with his ink and her boobs wanting to molest each other. Even so she wasn’t afraid of the chieftain. She just hated herself for wanting him while she wasn’t actually free to do that.

She would never look at Mitch again without wanting to hurl—especially with all that cologne he wore lately—but she was still married to him. That meant something, at least, to her, and to the judge who would decide if she could have a divorce, definitely. Julianne had been fighting for her marriage from almost the beginning, so it hurt to lose so badly. Why couldn’t Mitch have been more like Shaw?

The minute we got married he changed.

Her thoughts drifted back to their wedding day. She’d worn the pretty white dress and let Mitch ring her and made all those promises to him in front of his friends. Of course she’d messed up a little, too. She’d had to tell the minister who married them to slow down with the vows, and use just a few words at a time so she could remember them all long enough to repeat them. Eva had shown up right in the middle of the ceremony, too, which had made Mitch nervous. When Julianne had finally kissed him he had been sweating so much he’d made her face wet.

Why hadn’t Eva stayed for the reception? Julianne wondered now. In a way she was glad she hadn’t, because what her new husband had done would have made her ex-bestie furious.

Mitch had already known that Julianne couldn’t memorize things well, but he’d joked about her flubbing the vows during the reception. You do remember the name of the guy you just married, right, honeybuns? Starts with M. She had tried to be a good sport and laugh along with everyone else. She shouldn’t have done that, she realized now. She should have socked Mitch in the nose for making fun of her at their wedding. Shaw would never do anything like that to her.

Not like I still love Jerk-face, and he won’t be born for hundreds of years yet. That gives me a time pass, doesn’t it?

“What do you want to try?” she asked as she went over to join the chieftain by the fire.

He turned and pulled his tunic up over his head, baring his broad chest. “The beast desires your touch. Mayhap we may convince the thing speak with you.”

Seeing all that hard, muscular tattooed skin in her face made her take a step back. The hot, dark scent of him seemed to follow and curl around her like a lonely stray kitty. She should be afraid of this man, but she wasn’t. “What kind of touching do you have in mind?”

Shaw caught her wrist and brought her palm to his marked shoulder. “What shall work, as before.”

“So you’re just curious about what will happen,” she said. Why was she hesitating now? Every part of her wanted to jump on this man, and he…did he want that, too? “You’re not thinking of like, other kinds of touching and kissing and getting naked together and stuff.”

“I’ve thought of little else since you said you’d wed me,” he said, almost as if he were ashamed of it.