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Egan’s broad chest made a surprisingly comfortable backrest, and without conscious thought, Oriana gradually relaxed against him. She was still preoccupied with thoughts of Duncan, but knew she should try to prepare herself for whatever she might find at Egan’s home. She supposed that like other wealthy men he must live on an impressively large crannog. She had never spent more than a single night in a water-ringed fort herself, and hoped she would not be confined to his for long.
“You claim to need someone you can trust,” Oriana remarked absently. “When we arrive at your home, do you wish me to merely tell fanciful fortunes, and then tell the truth to you?”
Egan had expected Oriana to continue to be as annoyed with him as he was with her, and he had never expected her to cuddle against him with the easy familiarity of an affectionate lover. When her golden curls brushed his chin, she smelled so sweet, and felt so enticingly feminine, it was difficult to form a coherent reply.
“Aye,” he rasped. “That will do for a start.”
“I should have made you promise not to become as furious with me as Duncan is if the truth is not to your liking.”
“I’m already expecting the worst, so you needn’t worry that you’ll disappoint me.”
Egan’s thighs were pressed along the length of Oriana’s, and he was grateful the thick folds of her cloak separated the inviting roundness of her buttocks from the uncomfortable fullness in his groin. He drew a ragged breath and wished he had simply let her ride while he led Raven. Seeking to distract himself from the taunting physical need he knew she would regard with disdain rather than satisfaction, he sought to allay his curiosity about her.
“For now, I want to hear how Lugh came to choose your mother for his wife. It has to be a fascinating tale.”
Caught off guard, Oriana dipped her head momentarily. She leaned forward on her lumpy travel bag and ran her fingers through Raven’s mane. She wasn’t in the least bit ashamed of her heritage but still hesitated to share such a personal story.
“What’s wrong?” Egan persisted. “You’re trusting me to protect your life. Surely you can trust me with a romantic story.” He raised his right hand from her waist to make a solemn vow. “I promise never to repeat it.”
Oriana licked her lips nervously, for in truth, she had never been called upon to trust anyone. The only time she was with strangers was when she told fortunes, and then people placed their trust in her, not she in them. With the gift of the knowing, she trusted in herself, and that was all that truly mattered. A long moment passed before she straightened to rest against Egan’s chest.
“Egan, when you mentioned your need for a clear view of the future, I should have asked if you didn’t trust your own instincts,” she mused aloud.
“Oh, yes, indeed I do,” Egan assured her. “But I still need confirmation I’m correct in my judgments before I act on them. Now stop attempting to distract me. Tell me about your mother and Lugh.”
“I’m not certain I can do their story justice,” Oriana murmured softly, “but because you insist, I will try.”
“Please do, and you will earn my undying gratitude, dear lady,” Egan responded, with more sarcasm than he had intended.
Even with her decision made, Oriana needed a long moment to gather her thoughts, and she completely missed Egan’s rudeness. “People sometimes describe me as pretty, but my mother was the embodiment of beauty itself. She was the daughter of a wealthy farmer, and was greatly admired. She had many fine suitors, but regarded the whole lot as unbearably tedious and at every opportunity escaped into the forest to be alone.”
Oriana paused to look up at Egan, and he responded with an encouraging nod. “One afternoon she chose a new path, and came upon a lake of such crystal purity that she tarried far longer than she should have merely contemplating the reflection of the clouds overhead. When she finally started for home, darkness overtook her, and wandering lost, her steps circled back to the beautiful lake. That was where Lugh appeared, and he took her hand in a clasp of exquisite tenderness and guided her home.
“Unlike her suitors, who talked of nothing but themselves, Lugh spoke not a single word that night. As you might expect, my mother was very favorably impressed, and the next day, she returned to the lake where they had met. No,” Oriana corrected herself. “What she always said was that she was drawn back, as though pulled by an invisible tether. It was a lure so powerful, she swore she could not have resisted its force. She found Lugh pacing the shore of the lake, anxiously awaiting her arrival. When he drew her into his arms, the whole forest came alive with a hauntingly beautiful melody.”
Egan believed that gods and spirits inhabited every rock, tree, river, and hill, but that did not mean he believed a single word of Oriana’s enchanting tale. However, he was immensely entertained. “Was your mother always so poetic?”
Oriana had only to close her eyes to hear her still. “Yes, and her voice was as sweet as a songbird’s. She was lovely in every way, a fit bride for a god. Her parents had expected her to make a fine marriage and enrich the whole family. But she couldn’t return home and wed another after giving her heart to Lugh, so she fled with him deep into the forest.
“He was with her when I was born, and I imagine quite often after that, but he didn’t allow me to see him until I was grown, and he came to escort my mother into the Otherworld.”
Egan thought it far more likely that Oriana’s mother had had a mortal lover of whom her parents did not approve. The scoundrel must have abandoned her when she had conceived, and she had hidden in the forest rather than face her parents’ wrath. That she had raised her daughter on a poetic fantasy rather than an ugly truth was understandable, but that Oriana claimed to have seen Lugh was absurd.
“Wait a moment,” Egan urged. “I’ve no doubt that you saw someone, but how did you recognize him as Lugh?”
Oriana turned slightly to face Egan and instantly took exception to his skeptical frown. “He was exactly as my mother described him, a being of such radiant light he could have been no one else. You may scoff as loudly as you please, but it will not change the truth of what happened.”
Egan found the stubborn tilt of her chin so charming, he refrained from any such rude outburst. “No, I’ll not laugh, my lady. Now, I should not have interrupted you. Please continue, and tell me where you spent your childhood.”
Oriana shook her head slightly and turned back toward the road. “No. I should have known better t
han to confide in you. The mistake was entirely mine. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Egan stressed, but failed to hide his discontent. “Were you a happy child?” he asked. The slump of Oriana’s shoulders made it plain that she had not been. He could easily imagine her chasing squirrels and climbing trees. He could not bear to think she had been unhappy.
“Please,” he urged with surprising tenderness.
Oriana could not recall a man ever speaking to her in such an intimate manner. While telling fortunes, she had heard everything from polite inquiries to bawdy teasing, but nothing ever quite that softly suggestive. It brought a strange longing for something she could not even name, and she spoke more to herself than to him when she replied.
