CHAPTER 1
“Ronan,” Dagun roared. “Today? Be today the day we die?”
Ronan laughed at his first mate’s panic that the wind and driving rain carried to him from across the ship, then off into oblivion. Poor old beggar. Dagun had endured many a storm at sea, but this one appeared to be a bit too harsh for his liking.
The deck dipped, then lurched upward with the wild fury of the angry waves. The crew struggled to hold fast, but they tumbled and flailed from pillar to post, as if they were naught but a wee bairn’s rag doll.Dagun tangled his arms in the rigging to keep from slamming into the ship’s railing—or worse—be tossed over the side and swallowed by the churning sea.
“Clíodhna willna harm us,” Ronan bellowed to them.“She’s but bouncing us about for a wee bit of fun.”More at home at sea than on land, he stood easy at the wheel, his stance wide and balanced as though the vessel was naught but a gently rocking cradle.
“Aye, then,” Dagun sputtered and coughed after a wave hit him full in the face. “I be mighty glad about yer certainty of the sea goddess and her many moods—be they foul or be they fair.” Another salty blast knocked him off his feet and left him dangling from the rigging.
Ronan flashed a smile at the deluge’s sting and the lashing bite of the wind.His pulse quickened with each swell and heave of his beloved waters. A hearty laugh rumbled from deep in his belly and joined the song of the howling gale.His spirits soared as the black thunderclouds stirred like a boiling cauldron about to overflow.Fear of the storm would never plague him. Not here in his home. In the arms of his untamable ocean. His beloved Sea Goddess Clíodhna had won his loyalty and trust long ago when he was but a wee babe in his mother’s arms. The goddess had appeared to him in the form of a selkie that day and taken many forms since, always striving to amuse him and show how much she cherished him. Clíodhna would let no harm come his way.
He never questioned the mystical ways of the goddesses or the powerful energies flowing through his world.Conceived in the dream plane, his mother a powerful twenty-first century witch, and his father a time traveling Scottish laird from the fourteenth century, magic filled his blood. The Goddess Brid herself had named him, for his destiny was to have dominion over the sea and every creature in it.A wee storm stirred up by Clíodhna was tonic to his very being.
“Douse canvas!” Dagun roared into the hurricane while squinting up at the creaking mast straining against the force of the gale.“She canna bear much more of this wind!”If they didn’t get the sails dropped quickly, the mast would surely snap and drag them into the unforgiving depths.
Ronan shook his head as his terrified crew staggered across the deck. Their expressions revealed their unspoken prayers and fears that they would never see home again before they died.
“Clíodhna!” he shouted into the wind. “Leave off and move on to pester some other unsuspecting mortals. Ye have frightened my men long enough.”
The storm died like a snuffed candle. Mountainous waves smoothed to subtle ripples. The sun broke through the thinning clouds scurrying across the horizon. A rich golden voice floated on the breeze and danced across the water.
“My beautiful Ronan,” it said, “ye ken I was merely having a wee bit of fun.”
“Aye, my goddess, and ye ken how I enjoy a hearty storm.”He cast a smile up at the fluffy white clouds tumbling across the brightness of the clear blue sky. His long hair, black as the ink of a squid, quickly dried in the gentled wind as the Goddess Clíodhna breathed a warm balminess into the air.He winked, even though she had yet to take solid form. “Ye are wondrous, my goddess, but I fear the fury that charges my blood with exciting energy drains the marrow from my crew’s bones.”
A mighty wave crashed over the railing, its sparkling white crest transforming into the shapely figure of a striking woman.Her white hair swirled around her enticing curves and puddled around her feet.Her translucent skin gleamed in the sunlight, iridescent as a pearl pulled from the sea.She was clad in a delicate clinging garment colored with the hues of the waters, rich sapphires, emeralds, and aquamarines. The gown shimmered and changed with her every move. When Clíodhna took human form, she ensured that the form she took was breathtaking.
The goddess smiled as she touched his cheek with the tenderness of a lover’s caress.“My precious Ronan. Ye ken I treasure ye and will always see ye safe.No one adores my beloved seas like ye do.’Tis such a pity ye are but a wee mortal, fragile as a bit of driftwood.Ye would make such a fine god, a wondrous immortal, and consort.”
He covered her hand with his and chose his words carefully.“Ye ken I honor ye, and the seas shall always sing to my heart and soul.But as ye say, my beloved goddess, I am but a mere mortal—and that canna change.”
She narrowed her stormy blue eyes but kept her smile in place as she leaned forward and brushed a motherly kiss to his forehead.“Ye are a wise little mortal as well, choosing yer words with such care. Have ye spent time with Brid again or has yer wee brother, the fox, given ye lessons on slipping through snares?”
Ronan ducked his head, feeling guilty as a lad caught stealing sweets from the pantry. The mighty Brid had warnedhim to take care with whatever he said to Clíodhna, for she was known for twisting a man’s words when granting their wishes. Often, she turned a mortal’s most cherished dreams into unimaginable nightmares. Of course, conversations with the all-powerful Brid also took careful wording. But he was extra wary with his precious Clíodhna of the seas.
“As I said,” he assured her, “I will honor ye to the grave.”
Her laughter bubbled like the gurgle of water as it poured from an urn. She combed her fingers possessively through his tangled mane. “My dear sweet Ronan.What more could a goddess ask for?When I look into yer heart, I see a soul so devoted and pure that it takes my breath away. Ye shall always have my protection, my handsome mortal. Always.”
He bowed his head in reverence. “I thank ye, my goddess, for calming the storm.”
She returned to her realm in the next wave that swept across the bow.
The crew shook their heads, their relief apparent as they returned to their duties.With the temperamental goddess no longer in their midst, they hurried to repair the damage from the storm.
Ronan watched them from the wheel, well aware they had heard the rumors about him before signing to serve on his ship. His mystical powers and dominion over the sea were not a secret—at least not upon the waters where he felt most at home.A smile came to him as he remembered one of them confessing they had not truly believed until they’d witnessed his easy relationship with the sea goddess, and how she calmed any storm with just a word from him.They were a superstitious lot. That, he knew, but he hoped they all felt him to be the safest captain to sail under. After all, if the sea goddess kept him safe, the mighty Clíodhna would keep them safe as well.
He turned back into the wind and gave the wheel a gentle turn. Without the storm to distract him, the nagging twitch that had troubled his soul of late demanded his attention once more. He scrubbed his chest, wishing he could rub the annoying strangeness of the ache out of his being. Being the middle son of the MacKaylaird, it could not be the curse that demanded he find the other half of his soul. But if not that malady, then what? He rolled his shoulders and flexed his back until it popped, but still, the sensation persisted. A subtle gnawing made his heart ache with longing. Something pulled at him, nagged him to find whatever it was, and claim it for his own.
He snorted and rolled his shoulders. Whatever the feckin’ problem was, he fully intended to ignore it. He refused to look for trouble. After all, whenever trouble wished to find him, it always managed it easily enough on its own.
“Mama, I still canna see him.”Aveline, youngest of the MacKay brood and the only daughter, landed a petulant kick on the oversized slab of limestone that protected the heavy oak floor from stray blasts of errant magic. She stared harder at the large, imageless mirror leaning back against a stone wall blackened by ages of soot from its powerful energy.The obsidian surface showed neither reflections of the room nor the visions of her brother she had tried to call forth. Why did the Mirrors of Time always obey Mama’s commands but more often than not ignored her? Maybe if she invoked Mama’s name? “Stupid thing. I am just as powerful as the mighty Rachel MacKay. Do as I command ye!”
“Aveline, stop behaving like a child. You’re a young woman now, and throwing tantrums gets you nowhere. Now, concentrate as I taught you.”Rachel MacKay, mother to the MacKay brood, looked up from the worktable, pausing with her quill above the large book laid open in front of her. Even though her ebony hair glimmered with silvery threads of gray, she was still a striking woman who drew admiring looks from every man she encountered—but only if her husband wasn’t around. No man who valued his life dared to allow his glance to linger overly long on Laird MacKay’s beautiful wife.Aveline wished she had her mother’s coloring and beauty—instead, she was cursed with reddish blonde hair andfreckles that made her look as though the Goddess Brid had sprinkled her with spices.
Her mother rose from her seat and brushed the wrinkles from the apron tied around her narrow waist. She eyed her work, then glared at Aveline. “I should have known better than to attempt an update to a complicated text while you worked on your lessons.”Her glare became more pointed. “Or whatever it is you are doing. What are you doing?”
