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Chapter Fifteen
There were so many things she wanted to ask, her head was bursting with holding them back. She’d wanted to peek into Angus’s trance, but worried she’d ruin something if she shoehorned her energy into things.
“Why didn’t you tell me about our son?” he repeated, his gaze trained on hers. Golden flecks shimmered around his pupils.
“I wasna certain what I wanted to do.” Because she couldn’t stand the sudden desolation behind his eyes—a product of her honesty—she hurried on. “Cathbad paid me a visit while ye were with the Morrigan. He told me our child was predestined, important in ways he dinna elucidate. ’Twas then I knew I’d take the hard road, bear our son, and deal with consequences as they arose.”
“Did Cathbad also tell you that I’d raise him—alone?”
Arianrhod nodded solemnly. “I owe you an apology for even considering not telling you.”
A rough expression, feral and untamed, hardened his features into a mask. “Aye, that you do, but we can’t go back.”
“Nay, we canna.” She forced herself to hold his gaze. He was so forthright, she couldn’t meet him with less than he gave. “Let’s start with the easy parts. What did ye find out about the dark mage dragon shifters?”
Angus nodded and altered his position, so he could wrap his arms around her. He still wanted her in his arms, which meant maybe he’d forgive her. She fitted her body against his. The cottage had warmed from the fire, and she’d adapted to the smell of burning guano, so it no longer stung her eyes.
“Cathbad joined me in trance. I didn’t call him, he was just there. He said to let the dragons take care of their own problems.”
“Likely a wise course of action,” she murmured, waiting. Angus would tell her more when he was ready.
He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head so she had to look at him. “There’s no more to relay about the dragons. According to my kinsman, once I’m done raising our son, I’ll be free of the Celts. I have no idea how that will happen.”
“What of us?” Despite her resolve to remain quiet, the words found their way out anyway.
“Cathbad didn’t know, which could be a good thing. We’ll remain apart while I raise our boy, unless you find a way to square your role in the Pantheon with being mother to a child conceived by normal means.”
“Did Cathbad cast any light on if I discovered how to do that?”
Angus shook his head. “Nay, but what could be so difficult about—?”
“Doona say it.” She pressed an open hand across his mouth. “I doona know if I could escape my role, no matter how much I wanted to. ’Twas assigned by Danu, for reasons only she knows.”
Her plea must’ve gotten through because his muscles, which had felt like granite, relaxed where his body pressed against hers. His words clinched her impression when he said, “I spoke out of turn about something I don’t understand. Once our boy is grown,” his voice crackled with emotion, “I hope more than anything a way will open for us to find one another again.”
She sagged against him relieved to have a path set before them, but heartsick too. How could she live without him? “It could be worse,” she said, struggling to not clutch him to her and say to hell with everything.
He brushed his lips over hers. “Aye,” he copied her brogue. “It could always be worse. Do you have a place in mind to wait out the pregnancy and nursing?”
She shook her head, interest kindling at his words. “Ye have a reason for asking.”
“That I do. I have an idea that might play out well and allow us to see each other from time to time.”
“Tell me.” The firelight was dying, so she dialed up the lumens in her mage light. It floated to her side like a dutiful servant.
“It might be better to show you. We could do it in this time, but I’d feel better if we took a shot at returning to our own.”
Arianrhod glanced at the hearth. Now that the flames weren’t powered by magic, they were dying, leaving a bed of glowing coals. She and Angus could leave without worrying about the countryside catching fire. She untangled herself from him and stood. Her bow and quiver were where she’d left them, leaned against the far wall. By the time she’d slung both over her shoulder, he was on his feet, dressed, and ready to leave.
They stepped over the high lintel into a night flooded by moonlight. For once the thick clouds that usually blanketed the U.K. weren’t in evidence. She linked her arm through his, and they picked their way down the steep hillside to flatter ground where the time tunnel had forced them out. A flurry ofbaahswas followed by a herd of fluffy sheep, nipping grass as they sashayed past.
“Someone needs to shear them,” Angus noted.
“This strain isna known for their wool.”
Angus snorted. “I never could tell one type from another. Except Merinos and they’re not native to the U.K.”
“Och, mayhap ye could start a small sheep ranch. ’Twould give our boy something to do.”
