“Cailean,” she whispered. She didn’t open her eyes but she reached out and grabbed him, placing her own hands over his where he held her firm. Then, using him to anchor her, using his presence to stop her from losing herself again, she sent her senses out towards the god once more.
His rage and frustration battered against her but this time she had Cailean’s presence to keep it at bay, had his love surrounding her like a cocoon. The god tore at her, trying to find a way past her defenses, but could find no way in. Instead, Rose grasped hold of his fury and followed it to its source, sending her senses questing down into the cracks in the seabed that marked where he was attempting to escape his prison.
The god quailed, trying to flee her now, but she would not let him go. She rode his fury, deeper, deeper, until she saw what lay beyond it. Loneliness. A deep, soul-crushing despair. He had been trapped for centuries, full of grief and sorrow for his lost love, believing that he was alone.
But he wasn’t.
A memory formed in Rose’s mind. It was an image of Cailean and Catriona. They were in the courtyard at Dun Mallach, Catriona trying unsuccessfully to get Patch to do some tricks while the little dog kept dancing around in circles and pulling on the hem of Catriona’s dress. Cailean watched, arms folded across his broad chest, an amused smile curling the corners of his mouth. And in his eyes shone a deep, unadulterated joy. The love of a father for his daughter.
And suddenly Rose knew what she had to do.
With a gasp, she withdrew her senses, untangled her awareness from that of the god, and opened her eyes. Her outward senses came rushing back and she swayed on her knees. Cailean’s hands on her shoulders steadied her.
He crouched, his dark eyes intense as he studied her face. “Are ye all right, lass?”
She swallowed a few times before she could speak and then nodded. “I know what we have to do, Cailean. We have to let him out of his prison.”
Chapter Twenty
Cailean stared ather, appalled. “What? Ye canna be serious!”
Rose shook her head. “It’s the only way. I thought his prison had to be resealed but it’s not that at all. If we do that it will only be a matter of time before he starts to break free again. A sticking plaster over a wound. But we need totreatthe wound. That’s the only way to save everyone on Barra.”
No. She’d lost him. “I dinna understand.”
She went up onto her knees, placing her palms flat against his chest and he kept a firm grip on her shoulders in case she swooned again. Her dark eyes found his, sparkling with that determination he’d come to expect from her. “The sea god isn’t angry, not really. He’s full of grief and loneliness. He thinks the way to deal with that is through inflicting his pain on others. But what if we could ease his grief and loneliness?”
“And how, exactly would we do that?”
“By showing him he’s not alone. That he’s not lost his love. At least, not all of her.”
Cailean studied her face, watching the way the light danced across her features and the wind swept her dark hair back from her face. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “This is the god talking. He’s bewitched ye like he did the other day. He’s trying to get ye to free him. I willnae allow it.”
“That’s not what happened,” she replied. “Do you trust me, Cailean?”
And that was the crux of it. He had always known that the work of a MacFinnan spellweaver was far beyond him. Physical enemies he could fight. Mundane problems he could deal with. But this? Gods and goddesses and magic? This was far beyond his ken. So now they came to the heart of it: Did he trust her? Could he put aside his distrust of all things mystical and put his faith in this woman?
The answer was far easier than he’d imagined. If she’d asked him this when she first arrived, the answer would have been no. Never. But that had changed. By slow increments his doubt had been eroded. Bit by tiny bit, his skepticism had died. Of course he trusted her. He would trust her with his life.
He released his grip on her shoulders. “Ye already know the answer to that, lass. If ye say this is what must be done, then this is what must be done.” He climbed to his feet and held out a hand. Rose took it and he pulled her up. “But I will be right here, guarding yer back.”
A bright smile lit her face before she let out a long breath. “Ready?”
“No. I’ll never be ready. But let’s get started all the same.”
Cailean took his place at her side. Rose turned to face the waves. She closed her eyes, clasping her hands at her breast. She made no grand gestures, murmured no spells, but Cailean felt it immediately when she accessed her power. A warmth stole through him, full of peace like a summer breeze. It was so different to the god’s angry power.
For long moments nothing happened. Then all of a sudden Rose staggered and the sea lit up with stormlights of opalescent green and blue so bright Cailean had to throw up an arm to shield his eyes.
When he looked again, a man was standing on the headland, watching them. He was tall, taller than Cailean, with the broad shoulders and muscular arms of a warrior. Pale-blond hair wavedaround his head as though stirred by an unseen current. A sword that looked to be made of shell or pearl was strapped to his hip.
Cailean stepped forward, putting himself between Rose and the newcomer. He didn’t have any weapons but he wouldn’t let that stop him. This creature wouldnotharm her. Not while he had breath in his body.
The man regarded them in silence. He looked remarkably human, for a god. It was only the eyes that gave him away. Instead of having iris and pupil, they were pure orbs of silver, like liquid metal.
Rose gripped Cailean’s arm and came to stand by his side. She lifted her chin, faced the man. “I’m—”
She got no further. The man raised his arms and a tempest roared to life around them. The wind began to howl, buffeting them both and sending their hair and clothes streaming. Cailean staggered against the force of it, one hand steadying Rose to help her keep her footing. The sea began to churn. The waves turned choppy, topped with white breakers, and began to slam against the headland with enough force to send up gouts of freezing spray.
