She saw the wicked intent in his eyes and let herbratfall to the floor. “Trahern deserves happiness. And it’s time he married. He’s not getting any younger.”
“But is Morren Ó Reilly the right woman for him?”
“Are you blind? Haven’t you seen the look on his face when he watches her? And the way she can’t tear herself from his side? She worried about him all day while he was at Gall Tír.”
“I did see them in the garden last night,” he admitted.
“Oh? And what were they—“ Her words were cut off when her husband pulled her into a deep kiss. A sigh fell from her mouth, and she fitted her body to his. As he lowered her onto their bed, he kissed her until she couldn’t catch her breath.
When at last he broke free, he answered, “That’s what they were doing,a stór. And it’s why I agreed to your idea of pressuring him into the marriage.”
Isabel reached to remove his tunic, never minding that it was the middle of the day. Even after so many years, she’d never stopped loving her husband. “I’ll make certain their wedding day is unforgettable.”
“If she says yes.”
“She’d be a fool not to marry a MacEgan man.” And with that, Isabel pulled him into her arms.
Chapter Seventeen
ThefirstnightofSamhain was cold and crisp. As the sun set over the fields, Morren saw a bound sheaf of corn, shaped in the form of a woman. The Cailleach, or the Hag, as it was known, was surrounded by young girls, each daring one another to reach out and touch the crone.
Annle, a former healer of the MacEgan tribe, watched over the girls, her wrinkled mouth stretched into a smile. She was the most respected of the elderly women. Nearly seventy years of age, she had watched generation after generation of MacEgans, rise up and be succeeded by their sons and grandsons.
She sat upon a chair, observing the children’s excitement. With gnarled hands, she helped some of the younger children tie on their masks. Morren wore the bark mask Liam had decorated for her, though it scratched at her face. It wasn’t at all attractive, but after the boy’s hard work, she wouldn’t say anything to hurt his feelings.
Trahern’s mask was made of beaten gold, and it was large enough to cover the top half of his face, baring his mouth. There was something different about him tonight. He appeared distracted, and he’d hardly spoken to her. She wondered if it was because of the time they’d spent together in the garden. Even thinking of it evoked a trembling within her skin, a sense that there was much more he hadn’t taught her.
Liam brought forth his carved turnip lantern, with a candle stub burning inside. “See?” He showed her the light. “This will drive off the evil spirits.”
Morren pretended to be frightened, and the boy beamed at her. “It’s quite terrible,” she said.
With a lightness to his step, Liam went to join his cousin Cavan, who had two missing front teeth.
“Let’s go,” Cavan urged. “Sir Anselm promised us cakes.”
The two boys joined the other children, collecting treasures and sweets from the tribe members. They played more fortune-telling games, and a group of the older children competed for apples.
Trahern’s brother Connor had hung a rope over a tree branch and mounted a horizontally - spinning cross containing two lighted candles and two apples at each of the four ends. The older boys leapt into the air, trying to bite the apples off without being burned by the candles.
Trahern had taken his seat at the far end, near one of the fires. He began telling the legend of Nera, a man who had wed the faery king’s daughter and saved his clan from thesídhe. Morren was about to move closer when she heard Annle speak.
“His mother would have been proud to see him,” the old healer whispered.
Morren drew near and saw that the woman’sbrathad fallen to the ground. Her narrow shoulders were bowed, her frail fingers lined with blue veins. “A shame really, that she died so young.”
When Morren reached her side, she lifted the woolen shawl over the old woman, and was rewarded by a warm smile. Annle’s eyes were distant, staring at the back of one of the men. “Trahern looks like his father. Not like the others.”
“What do you mean?”
Annle gave a secretive smile. “Nothing. Only an old woman’s foolishness. Go and enjoy the stories.” Her lips curved into a wrinkled smile. “He’s waiting for you.”
Morren didn’t understand the woman’s enigmatic response, but she squeezed Annle’s hand before she departed. She sat near the fire, listening to Trahern weave his spell over the people.
“Nera warned his people that thesídhewere coming to Rath Cruachan, intending to attack. He prepared his warriors, but as they readied their weapons, he thought of his wife and newborn son, waiting for him beyond the golden gates of the faery world.”
Trahern’s gaze fell upon her, his gray eyes compelling her not to look away. Morren felt her cheeks grow warm, uncertain of whether he was still telling the story or not.
“She meant everything to him. And he would not let her go, despite the betrayal of the others.”
