Enchanted Island

Enchanted Island [From the Sea] by Temple Hogan

Resplendence Publishing, LLC www.resplendencepublishing.com

Copyright ©2011 by RP First published in July, 2011 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Enchanted Island [From the Sea] by Temple Hogan

CONTENTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine About the Author ****

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Enchanted Island [From the Sea] by Temple Hogan

Enchanted Island A From the Sea Story By Temple Hogan **** Resplendence Publishing, LLC www.resplendencepublishing.com

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Enchanted Island [From the Sea] by Temple Hogan

Resplendence Publishing, LLC 2665 N Atlantic Ave #349 Daytona Beach, FL 32118 Enchanted Island Copyright (C) 2011, Temple Hogan Edited by Delaney Sullivan and Caitlin Green Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-353-9 Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Electronic release: July 2011 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental. ****

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Enchanted Island [From the Sea] by Temple Hogan

As always, this book is dedicated to my dear friends of Grand Rapids Regional Writers Group who always inspire and guide me, to my terrific husband, my own personal hero and to Delaney Sullivan who is great to work with and always makes me feel good about my stories. ****

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Enchanted Island [From the Sea] by Temple Hogan

Chapter One **** Lost in a beautiful dream about Prince Ailin, Treasa sighed and turned in her bed. He'd just declared his undying love and preference for her over her hateful, older sister, Brynna. Treasa had worn the most beautiful gown that had ever existed. Its silvery tissue folds floated around her, glowing with reflected light. Her face was luminous, her hair as bright as a crown. She was beautiful, more beautiful even than Brynna. Prince Ailin smiled at Treasa, his eyes shining as he reached for her. He was more dazzling than she'd ever seen him, and he looked only at her. "I love you, my fair princess," he said. "I want you for my bride." His voice echoed throughout the great hall. She heard Brynna's gasp of dismay. The court clapped with approval at this turn of events. "So it shall be!" her father, King Arthgallo, called out. Brynna shrieked like a banshee and ran from the hall, only her fading sobs left to remind anyone she'd been there. Treasa's smile was victorious. She was no longer the younger sister to be ignored and forgotten. She was to be Prince Ailin's bride. Then the wind woke her. She lay for a moment trying to bring back the dream, wanting it to go on forever, but it was gone, and with it, the bitter acknowledgement that it would never be a reality. Prince Ailin loved Brynna, and her sister 7

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was arrogant with the triumph. Brynna knew how Treasa felt about Ailin and found a dozen ways each day to taunt her with the fact that her love was not returned. Treasa retaliated by hiding Brynna's belongings, a beautiful comb, a ribbon, a petticoat, but it was not enough to assuage the pain in her heart. The wind rattled the shutter again. Treasa threw aside the covers, wrapped her arms around herself against the chill and ran on tiptoes to the window. Opening the shutters a crack, she gazed out at Dingle Bay. The night was dark and stormy. The waves pounded against the rocky shore, and the wind roared its displeasure at something flattening the long sea grass against the sand. Dark clouds hid the moon, but an occasional flickering light cast a glow on the angry waves. Treasa shook back her long, golden hair and peered more intently. There seemed to be a large hill rising from the waters of the bay. Surely a trick of her eyesight, she thought and blinked. But no, it was still there. It seemed to have grown larger, blocking all view of the sea, leaving only a river of water between it and their own shore. Treasa stood for a long time, trying to sort out the shadows, but even the smallest bit of light seemed to have disappeared and only an ominous darkness greeted her. Remembering her dream, she latched the shutter, hurried back to her bed and lay shivering, her covers pulled high beneath her chin. To dispel her discomfort, she concentrated on what her dream had revealed and wished it were true. Soon, she was warm and fell asleep, but her pleasant vision did not return. 8

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Instead, she saw a looming mound cutting them off from the sea and a dark-haired man with fierce eyes and a warrior's face. Suddenly, she was afraid and tried to push away the darkness, but it seemed the frightening warrior had seized her dreams and made them his own. He stalked toward her and she tried to run away, but her legs were caught in a quagmire, and she was sinking. "Come," he shouted in a mighty voice. "Take my hand, or you'll perish." She didn't want to do as he said but not to, meant she would dip below the sucking sands and die. "Hurry," he cried, holding his hand closer. It was a broad hand, brown and calloused as that of a laborer, yet nothing else about him suggested such a position. His gaze caught hers, and she saw his eyes were as black as midnight, the lines of his face seemingly hacked from granite, his lips chiseled stone. There was no softness about him, not like Ailin with his fine, graceful lines and smiling demeanor. "No," she cried to the man, too afraid of him. "You little fool," he roared and leaned closer to grip her shoulder and yank her forward. The sand pulled at her legs and skirts, but he was much stronger, and she was soon free, her feet once more on solid ground. The man had disappeared, but she knew he would return. He would return for her. "Have you heard, Princess?" Mada, her maid, said when Treasa entered the room. "Have you seen it?" 9

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"Seen what?" Treasa asked grumpily. She was tired though she'd just awakened. Her dreams had troubled her, and she hadn't slept well. "An island appeared last night," Mada said, her plump face shining with excitement. "It's just outside your window. Come and see." Treasa sat up, a feeling of dread washing through her. Had she not seen a black mound in her dreams? Could it not be an island? Throwing aside her covers, she leaped from the bed and hurried to the window. Mada had opened the shutters and stood peering out. She moved aside for her princess. Treasa's heart thudded in her chest as she took in the sight before her. An island lay in the bay, lush and green with a small, simple village along the shoreline. At the apex of the highest hill sat a castle, grander than any she'd ever seen with its crenellated towers gilding white in the morning sunlight. "Sure and it's a beautiful castle," Mada murmured. "For all it's enchanted." "How do you know it's enchanted?" Treasa asked. "That's what they're saying in the village. They say the whole island is enchanted. That's why no one will go near it." "How did it come to be here?" Treasa wondered aloud. "That's what makes it enchanted," Mada scoffed. "There's no other way for it to have arrived in the middle of the night." "The wind blew it here," Treasa said. "Nay, and a wind couldn't be that strong to blow a bit of land across the water, not without something else helping it. Your father has ordered everyone to stay away from it. Some 10

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early fishermen rowed their boats out to it, but their boats just disappeared, and so did the men." "They'll return," Treasa said. "You'll see. There's a perfectly logical reason for this land being here. Soon the tides will carry it away." "Aye, that's what the king said, but he don't want anyone to go out to it. He's called his counselors, and they're in his chambers trying to decide what to do." Treasa turned away from the window. "Then we shouldn't worry. My father will find out what's happened. Now draw my bath and lay out my gown." "Aye, I'm sure he will," Mada said without much conviction and went off to do as she was bid. Despite her wish to look her best, Treasa hurried through her ablutions and raced downstairs. As she'd suspected, Ailin and Brynna were taking breakfast in the great hall, although Ailin wasn't eating that much since Brynna had flung herself on his lap and was chuckling low and deep in her throat. The sound made his eyes darken with some secret emotion that Treasa couldn't fathom. Ignoring the twinge of jealousy that dogged her, she flounced into the room and took her place at the trestle table. Hastily, Brynna removed herself from Ailin's lap. Such behavior was not acceptable in a princess, and if their mother had been the one to come upon the scene, Brynna would have paid dearly for her lapse of decorum. Now, she turned her ire upon her sister, who sat glumly studying the flames in the fireplace.

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"So, Brat," Brynna said, her brows drawing together in displeasure at Treasa's interruption. "Have you nothing better to do than to spy on us?" "I wasn't spying," Treasa snapped, raising her chin and glaring at Brynna through narrowed eyes. "You look terrible," Brynna attacked again. "Why didn't you take more time with your toiletry? You look like a beggar's child. Your ribbons are untied, and you have a smudge on your chin." Ailin laughed, an intimate, masculine sound that sent chills up Treasa's spine. "Leave your sister be," he told Brynna. "Treasa's a growing lass who needs nourishment." Brynna narrowed her eyes. "Aye, and if she keeps growing she'll soon bust out all her clothes, then father will have to order Tadhg, the tentmaker, to sew her gowns." "Oh, that's a hateful thing to say," Treasa cried, glaring at Brynna. She'd never get used to her sister's tongue. "Aye, it's true," Brynna said. "No man will ever ask for your hand in marriage, even if you are a princess. You'll never have a man like Ailin. Kings and princes don't want slatterns for their wives. You'll end up a mad old maid wearing gowns like tents and scuttling around the castle like a lost banshee. Mother and father will never get rid of you and your ill temper." To think that her sister should taunt her for a bad temper was more than Treasa could bear. Rising from the table, she took up the bowl of porridge and milk the serving girl had just set before her and hurled it. Brynna was the one to shriek like 12

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a banshee. With some satisfaction, Treasa saw that the contents of the bowl splattered everywhere over the bodice and ruffled skirts of her sister's rich gown, but best of all, the sticky mass covered her face and hair. Treasa had never loved porridge so much in her life. Despite the horror on her sister's face, Treasa laughed. "You hag!" Brynna cried and ran forward with her fingers curved into claws. Treasa picked up her wine cup and threw it, as well. The red liquid stained the beautiful fabric of the older princess's dress. Such a stain would never come out. Shrieking and bawling insults, Brynna advanced on Treasa so quickly she couldn't avoid her sister's nails. She felt slashes across her cheeks and on her arms, while her hair was pulled viciously. Thrown backwards onto the rush flooring, Treasa struggled to free herself, but Brynna was larger and stronger. Soon she straddled Treasa and proceeded to box her sister's ears repeatedly until hands parted them, and her father's courtiers lifted them to their feet. "What is the meaning of this?" Queen Dierdre's voice demanded. Both young women stopped fighting and stood shamefaced before their fastidious mother. From the corner of her eye, Treasa saw that her father was present, as well, his face flushed with anger, his council members hiding smiles behind their hands. Ailin had seen fit to exit the hall and was nowhere to be seen. But none of these people mattered with Queen Dierdre's stern gaze fixed on them. 13

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"Look what this wretch has done to my beautiful new gown. It was to be part of my trousseau," Brynna wailed, lifting up her ruined skirt. "And not to be worn yet," her mother said coldly. "This was a special occasion," Brynna answered then lowered her voice to a quiet sob. "Ailin was here, and I thought he meant to ask for my hand." Queen Dierdre raised her head and looked about the hall. "We'll speak of this later in private. In the meantime, go to your rooms and make yourselves presentable." "She can never be presentable," Brynna sniped and swept away before her mother could reprimand her. So far, Treasa had kept her head lowered. Now, she met her mother's gaze. For a long moment, Queen Dierdre kept her expression fixed, then her features softened and she reached out a hand to cup Treasa's cheek. "My dear child, why must you let her provoke you like this?" she asked so softly no one else could hear. "Now you must suffer for your temper. Do you think Ailin will love you more if you're rude and wild? He never will. His heart is only for Brynna. You must accept that. Another will come along who is more suited to you." "I don't know what you're talking about," Treasa said fiercely. She couldn't bear to have her mother look at her with such pity. "Aye, my special fairy child. Wild of heart and kind by nature, you are the child of my heart. I know how you feel. I've felt such love for another who didn't love me in return. I was in despair and then your father came, and I knew I 14

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belonged to him. Such will be the way of things for you, my daughter. You must be patient and wise." She dropped her hand and resumed her regal demeanor. "I must join your father now. You are to stay in your chambers until I send for you." She had been dismissed. Treasa hurried from the hall and up the stairs to her room. Her stomach rumbled with hunger for she hadn't taken a bite of the porridge before flinging it at Brynna. Treasa smiled at the memory of her sister's shocked expression and the outpouring of rage. Now, Ailin had seen Brynna as she truly was. Surely, he couldn't love her anymore. Time passed slowly while she waited for her mother's summons. She spent most of the time peering out the window at the island floating in the bay. Mada brought her a tray of food, and she nibbled greedily on cheese, cold meat and bread then went back to studying the beautiful stretch of land. She wondered about its inhabitants. What they were doing and if they were as dismayed at finding themselves here as her father and his citizens were to have them. Try as she might, she could see no sign of people. They must all be hidden in their houses. On a whim, she made up her mind that once she was free to leave her room she would row to the island despite her father's orders and see for herself what it held. Her thoughts were interrupted when Mada arrived to tell her Queen Dierdre was ready to see her now. Checking her appearance in her silver mirror, she allowed Mada to brush her hair then Treasa shook out her skirts. Knowing she looked her best, she walked with lingering steps 15

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down the passage to the chambers of her mother and father. The door was thrown open as she approached, and Treasa knew a serving girl had been set to watch for her. Forcing a smile for the girl, she entered her mother's presence and bowed with all the grace she could muster. The door shut with a note of finality that boded no good. Still, Treasa thought of her mother's kind words in the hall and took heart. "Come and sit down, my daughter," Queen Dierdre said. She had changed from the heavy robes of her office as queen. Now she wore a soft gown of light wool, which had been died a pale green like the distant hills beyond Donegal Bay. As usual, her attire and hair were meticulous. A light scent of roses lingered about her. One day, Treasa was determined that she would be like her mother, tranquil and proper in all ways. Now, she crossed her ankles and lightly clasped her hands in her lap. With her back straight and her shoulders squared, she sought to emulate her mother. "I have many things to tell you, Treasa," Queen Dierdre began, taking up her stitchery and applying her needle. "Your father and I are very disappointed at your behavior toward your sister today." "But she said hateful things to me," Treasa protested. "Nothing so hateful that you could not have shown better constraint." Her mother frowned at the piece of tapestry she was working. Finally, she gave up and laid it aside while she fixed Treasa with a look that was determined but not unkind. "This day, Ailin has asked for Brynna's hand in marriage. Your father's steward and Ailin's ambassadors are negotiating her dowry as we speak." 16

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Treasa drew in her breath and was unable to release it, so great was the pain in her chest. "My child, your face has gone quite pale," Queen Dierdre exclaimed in alarm. "I know this is painful for you, but you must give up all thoughts and feelings for Ailin. He belongs to your sister. He is to be your brother, nothing more. Do you understand?" Treasa nodded numbly. "Your father and I feel it is best if you leave Bundoran Castle for a time and go to your aunt in Strandhill until the wedding, which will be next spring. I'm sure by that time, this infatuation of yours will be done with, and you can return to rejoice in her wedding day." "I will never rejoice in that," Treasa said bitterly. "I shall hate her all the days of my life. He was mine. I loved him first." "He was never intended for you," her mother reminded her. "He should not have led you on as he did, knowing how you feel." "He doesn't know," Treasa said, dashing away her tears and meeting her mother's gaze. "Surely, you didn't tell him." Queen Dierdre shook her head slowly. "But he knows. He has always known. That is why I fault him for spending too much time with you. I tried to tell myself he enjoyed your company and regarded you as a little sister, but lately—" "Lately?" Treasa said, hope flowering in her chest. "He's begun to care for me instead of Brynna." "Not in that way, my dearest daughter. I fear he may have played on your feelings and for that I will take him to task. In 17

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the meantime, you must prepare yourself. You will leave on the morrow." "But I don't want to go," Treasa whispered. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she couldn't stop them. "I don't want to go away from Bundoran. This is my home and I shall miss and you and father." "As we shall miss you," the queen said and rose. "The plans have been made, and so it must be." Treasa looked at her mother's set expression and knew no amount of imploring would change what had been decreed. She was being banished from her home. Brynna had won in every way. Treasa rose and fled her mother's room. Blinded by tears, she ran from the castle, over the manicured lawn, passed gardeners who tended the gardens and maze, until she reached the shoreline. There, she turned and ran along the rocky terrain until she came to a gnarled tree that hung over the sand as if reaching toward the sea itself. The mysterious island was closer here, but she took no time to study it. Hiking her skirts up, she climbed into the highest branches of the tree and curled into a ball in its sheltering embrace, giving way to the sobs that shook her very heart. She wasn't sure how long she'd been lost in her misery, but eventually, she became aware of a whirling sound like wings in the air above her and shadows that blocked the sun. A crow cawed wildly, flying about the tree in a rapid, agitated manner. When it came too close, she waved her hands at it. "Go away," she called and, taking off her shawl of fine, brightly colored silk, flicked it at the bird. The motion only seemed to agitate it further. Suddenly, it lighted on a nearby 18

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branch and, reaching forward with its beak, pinched her most painfully. "Ow!" Treasa cried and drew back, losing her seating in the process. She slid off her perch and fell. She wasn't afraid. The sand would cushion her, but she never reached the ground. A black vortex closed around her, swirling her ever faster in its grip. She screamed but knew even the sound didn't escape. She was whisked into a different world than the one she'd always known When she landed, it was on hard, cold stones. She struck her hip then her head. Blackness closed over her. When she woke, she lay on a bed and a little man with white hair and large, blue eyes had his ear pressed to her breast. No man had ever been allowed such liberties except the physician. "Stop!" she cried. She shoved the little man away with such violence he stumbled backwards and nearly fell if not for the cloaked figure of another. Treasa stared into the shadows trying to make out the features of the second man, but dizziness claimed her. She pressed a hand to her brow and took deep breaths, fighting against the miasma. "Where am I?" she asked when she could speak again. "How did I get here?" "Where you are and how you came to be here is of no concern to you," a voice said, and there was something in the sound that struck terror in her heart. "What I need to know is your name." 19

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"My name is Princess Treasa, and you'd better release me or my father, the king, will have your head for this." "A princess?" the voice repeated. "Even better." He stepped into the pale light of the candle and stared at her closely. She saw that he had flat, black eyes that reflected none of the light as if he were a member of the dead. "Who are you?" she said with far less bravado than she'd hoped for. In fact, she sounded downright scared. She thrust out her chin and squared her shoulders. Briefly, she thought of the black warrior of her dreams, but this man looked nothing like him. "I demand you tell me who you are, and why you've brought me to this place." "You demand?" He smiled. She wished he hadn't because her heart quaked with fear. His gaze bored into her, evil and calculating. "Yes, she will do splendidly," he said, and if the man possessed any crumb of humor, this probably was as close as he got. She drew back. "You'll be sorry if you harm me," she warned, but the words sounded lame even to her ears. The man ignored her, but paced the room, his fingers splayed, the tips touching as if he were casting a spell. For her to be here in this manner, when the last thing she remembered was falling from the tree, was enough that she wondered if he'd used some kind of magic on her. She opened her mouth to remind him again that her father was a powerful king, but instinct told her such information wouldn't 20

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matter to this son of the Devil. Besides, he might use the same magic on her father and mother, even on Brynna. She must protect them. So she clamped her mouth shut and lay back on the bed, watching him warily. "Yes, indeed, Lunn, she will do nicely for our purposes, and when we're finished with her, we'll send her back to her father and let Cearnach answer for what has happened to her." "Aye, Master," the servant bowed in acquiescence. Treasa guessed he'd be afraid not to. He must do his master's bidding. "Quickly, Cearnach will arrive soon, and we must have her ready." He turned to study Treasa once again. "She's comely enough. Have Sanaid bring a bath and clothes for her." With a snap of his cape, the tall, thin man turned and left the chamber, followed closely by his servant, Lunn. Treasa sat up, her gaze turned to the door. Could she escape, she wondered? No one was watching her. Swinging her legs off the bed, she crossed to the window and peered out. What she saw took her breath away. Below was a forest of trees and a village with thatch-roofed cottages. In the distance, across an arm of water, sat her father's castle. She was on the island! Remembering the missing men who'd rowed too near, she gasped. Would she simply disappear as those men had? Would she never see her home again? Her knees shook so hard she could barely stand. As if under a spell, she stumbled back and sat down while she tried to sort things out. 21

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What a fool she'd been to imagine this island was filled with love and kindness and happiness. This was an evil place, and she had no idea what was about to happen to her. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two **** Suddenly, the door opened and a woman entered. She was very beautiful with a pale brow from which dark hair had been swept back and braided. Her features were pleasing and her gray eyes kind. "My name is Sanaid," she said. "I'm to be your maid." "I don't want a maid," Treasa said. "I only want to go home." Sanaid frowned. "Only Queran can release you," she replied softly. "And he has plans to use you against Cearnach." "Who's Queran, and who is Cearnach?" Treasa demanded. "Cearnach is our king. He's a hard man and has many enemies. He claims he fights to keep our island kingdom safe, but there are those who believe he craves the spilling of blood. Queran is the king's stepbrother and he is—" She paused to look around as if fearful someone would hear. "Better suited to be our king. Some people say he is evil, but that is not true. Still, you must do exactly as he says." "What does he want with me?" Treasa asked. "He will give you to the king," the girl answered and set about preparing a bath. "What do you mean, he'll give me to the king? Do you mean Cearnach? What would he want with me?" 23

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Sanaid looked at her in surprise as if wondering if Treasa was truly as simple as she seemed. Slowly, Treasa read the answer in Sanaid's demeanor. "He can't do that. I am a virgin, and I must remain so until my father finds a suitable husband for me." Sanaid said nothing but sprinkled fragrant flower petals, the likes of which Treasa had never seen, into the bath. She remained silent as she gestured Treasa to the tub, scrubbed her hair, washed her back and finally dried her off. Then Sanaid brought a robe of such exquisite beauty, Treasa gasped and reached out a hand to smooth the fabric. It shimmered in the light, a cloth of many colors blending together, one into the other, and so sheer that she could see her hand through it. "It's so beautiful," she breathed. "Aye, it is," Sanaid agreed. When the robe had been sashed around Treasa's slender waist and her hair brushed until it was dry and silken to the touch, Sanaid went to the door. "Wait, don't leave me," Treasa said. "I must," the young maid replied simply and slipped out, closing the door behind her with an air of finality. Treasa leaped to her feet and hurried to open it. Though the robe was not appropriate to be seen by others, she would take the chance to rid herself of this place, but no sooner had she turned the knob than the door was shoved inward, causing her to trip and sprawl on the floor. Lunn entered, followed for his master. Once again, his face was hidden in the shadows of his cowl, but she sensed his intent stare and 24

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grew uneasy. She sat up, blindly groping for the gossamer cloth to wrap it more tightly around herself. "Perhaps I should have saved you for myself," he said then his voice hardened. "Get up off the floor!" Quickly, Treasa rose. "Cearnach has returned," he said sharply and paced across the room. "You will go to his room and do everything he requires of you." "Never," Treasa said, despite her fear. "I am a princess, not a whore." "You are whatever I need you to be," Queran roared. "I won't do it," she answered, and cried out as he approached her in long, angry strides and struck her across her cheek. Here, so close to him, she could see the flat darkness of his eyes and terror swept through her once more. Queran's anger seemed to evaporate and he took a step back. His voice was even more frightening in its oily pleasantness. "Never fear, woman. You will do as I command for that is the only way you will live and then I shall take your sister." "Brynna?" Treasa felt heartsick. Though she'd often thought she hated her sister, she'd never wished her harm of this magnitude. Queran hadn't answered, letting his silence convey his message. "It is time," he said and snapped his finger. Instantly, Treasa was caught up in the black vortex that had claimed her earlier. For a moment, her mind went blank and when she recovered, she discovered herself in a huge 25

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bed with rich, velvet covers of magenta. Confused, she gazed around. This was not the room she'd been in before. This chamber was much larger with colorful tapestries on the walls and a huge fireplace where a blaze crackled and danced. A finely carved table held tankards and jugs, and a matching desk sat near the fire. Chests filled the rest of the room, trimmed in gold and fine jewels, so she guessed they held treasures. In the middle sat a large wooden tub, lined with copper, from which steam rose. Suddenly, the door opened and a tall man strode in, slamming the door behind him so that it seemed to shake in its frame, despite its massive thickness. At first, she thought him to be Queran, come to torment her again, but then she saw that he was taller, his shoulders broader and his build more muscular. He exuded power by his mere swagger to the fireplace where he stood leaning against the mantel and staring into the flames. His hair was as black as a raven's wing and fell across his brow and curled around his ears and nape in a tangle. His features were hidden from her, but she made out the outline of a strong, masculine jaw. She thought he was unaware of her presence, but then he spoke. "What is your name?" he asked abruptly, shoving away from the mantel and turning to her. She drew in a breath, for in the shadows, his vision was as dark and foreboding as any she'd seen. He was made of the same cloth as Queran, she thought and shuddered in fear. "I am Treasa," she half-whispered, afraid not to answer. 26

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"Treasa?" He repeated the name, his tongue lingering over the sound with the thick burr of the northern regions. "Are you here of your own will, Treasa?" "No, I am not. I have been kidnapped by your halfbrother." Despite Sanaid's description of his blood-thirsting demeanor, she hoped to enlist his aid, but she heard the words come out as something else altogether. "Aye, your highness. What woman would not want to be in the king's bed?" She had not uttered such words, she thought, yet they hung there in the air between them. He nodded and sank wearily onto the edge of the bed. "Help me with my boots, lass, and maybe we'll have a quick tumble before I take my bath." "You must listen to me," Treasa cried, but the words came out as acquiescence. She felt herself smiling broadly as she slid off the bed and knelt before the king. He held up one boot and waited for her to take hold of the heel. As if in another body and place, Treasa tugged off one boot then the other. "Well done, lass," he said and swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth. She was breathless when he drew back and looked at her. "Aye, and I think you're a prize worth taking my time with," he murmured and once again claimed her mouth, his lips hard against hers, his tongue thrusting. Astonished, she opened her mouth and at once, felt his invasion. His tongue dove into every recess, tamed and possessed her before she could draw her wits about her and push away. But her arms seemed to have a will of their own. 27

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Instead of pushing away from the king's chest, they crept around his neck. Once she overcame the first shock of his intimate kiss, she found his taste was heady, masculine, like nothing she'd ever imagined. Ailin's kiss would not be like this. She'd thought of it often and knew it would be soft and sweet like the prince he was. The touch of this man's chiseled mouth against hers was disturbing in its intensity, awakening strange responses throughout her body. Fear, she thought. He was making her afraid, but then why had she no desire to flee from his embrace? His large hands came up to cup her breasts through the sheer fabric of her robe. Impatiently, he pushed it away until he reached her bare flesh. Goosebumps rose along her arms at the feel of a man's hands caressing her so. She meant to draw back, but found herself pressing against him, eager for his touch. His hands were slightly rough, not soft and effeminate as were Ailin's. Yet they skimmed across her skin, branding her, so she gasped. She was bewitched, she realized. Queran had put a spell on her. "Ah, my wee lass is eager, is she not?" the king asked, his voice low and husky in her ear. "Be patient, wench. Before this evening is over, I will satisfy us both. Come now and help me bathe." He shed the rest of his clothes and stalked to the steaming tub. Treasa felt her cheeks burn as she caught a glimpse of his nude body. Never had she guessed a man could be so beautiful. Every plane, every curve was revealed to her startled gaze, which traveled from his rugged features to the 28

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broad expanse of his chest, covered with dark hair, which swirled down his lean belly and his powerful thighs. The only thing to mar such powerful lines was a thick, protruding rod at the juncture of his thighs. She was not so naive as to not understand what it was, for she'd listened to her older sister and the maids snickering about such things. Still, she'd had no idea a man's cock was so large and grand. It was the only word she could think to name it. A grand cock, indeed. Then aghast at her thoughts, she looked away and covered her eyes with her hair. She heard a hoot of laughter and looked up again. "What is this coy play?" the king demanded, grasping his large cock. "Is this worthy of your fear or do you jest to play a man's vanity? Come, help me wash. The more you see and handle my cock, the less impressed you'll be." Still chuckling, he stepped into the tub and slid down under the water until his shaggy head was submerged. When he sat up straight, she was at his side. "Ah, you're a beauty, lass, more than I've ever laid my eyes on before," he said, growing still while he studied her face with a piercing gaze, then shaking himself, he handed her a bar of sweet-smelling soap. "Start at the top and work your way down." He smiled and in the dimness of candlelight, she caught the laughter in his eyes and a dimple in one cheek above the unruly black beard. Uncertain of just how to begin her task, she thought of how her own maid washed her hair and worked up a rich lather in her hands and applied it to his thick, black tresses. He leaned his head back and gave a sigh of satisfaction as 29

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she rubbed the soap into his scalp. She took longer than was necessary, but he so obviously enjoyed her attentions that she rubbed away until he finally stirred and motioned to the pitcher of water left on a nearby stool. At his directions, she poured the water over his dark head then picked up a towel and dried his dripping locks. He was smiling when she drew the towel away. "Aye and you're a good lass," he said. "Now, you'll find a razor on the table. Bring it to me." She did as he requested and stood holding it hesitantly. "I do not think it wise for me to try and shave you, Sire," she offered. He laughed. "Aye, I do not think so, either. No one shaves me. I do it myself. That way, lest someone slip, I'll not lose my head." "Oh no, Sire, I would not be so clumsy," Treasa said, but drew back lest he change his mind and demand she do it. She sat on the stool and studied his face as he drew the blade across his jaw, leaving behind smooth skin and a clearer view of his dimple. She saw that he also had a cleft in his chin. He glanced at her and grinned. She smiled back, remembering how her father had often let her watch the barber shave his face. Remembering her father reminded her of the dangerous situation she was in. Now seemed the perfect time to tell this man the truth of her presence here in his castle. She sensed he would help her, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she found she could not. She tried again, forcing a noise beyond her tightened muscles, but no words came. 30

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"Are you a'right, lass?" Cearnach inquired. She tried to shake her head, but found it bobbing up and down instead. What's more, words came out of her mouth, but not the words her brain had ordered. "Aye, Sire. I'm a'right." She twisted her hands in her lap and wondered what spell had been placed on her that she could not speak her true feelings. Queran, of course, had seen to it that she couldn't tell the king the truth of her identity. She was being used, she realized, as a pawn by Queran against his brother, the king. Vexed at her own helplessness, she leaped to her feet and paced the room. "Come, lass, put aside your disquiet and finish your job," Cearnach called, beckoning her back to the bath. Drawing a deep breath, Treasa did as he bid and, taking up a thick cloth and the soap, scrubbed first his broad back then his shoulders and chest. The water glistened in his coarse, black chest hair. She dallied over his arms and hands, knowing what must come next. He lay silent and relaxed under her ministrations, but finally, he pulled away and said. "I'll do the rest, lass." Water streamed from his long body as he rose and applied soap around his genitals and down his legs. She saw that his cock had diminished in size, which was a surprising turn of events to her. She tried not to stare, but her gaze returned again and again to his nether region. Her eyes widened when she saw it begin to rise again from its dark nest of curls. "If you continue to stare at me like that, I'll not be able to finish my bath without taking you first." He lowered himself 31

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back into the tub and rinsed away the soap. When he rose again, his skin gleamed, all brown and shiny, drawn taut over long bones and sinewy muscles. His penis had held its firmness, jutting forward with a purpose of its own. She felt something flare within her. He was finished with his bath, and she'd not yet had time to tell him who she really was and to seek his help. She stepped toward him and held out her hands appealingly. "Sire, I have something I must tell you. I am not who you think I am," she began and once again, felt the muscles of her throat lock up, so her mouth moved but no sound came out save a guttural squawk. Cearnach stopped wiping that magnificent body with his towel and studied her. "You have an affliction," he said with warm understanding. "Don't fear, lass. Your beauty will compensate for any fault you might have." He paused and grinned, the dimple flashing mischievously. "Some men might find such a lacking a welcome trait, but not I. I'm sorry you have difficulty in speaking for I would like to learn more about you, but I still find much that is beautiful in you." Treasa stopped struggling to voice her true circumstances and turned away in frustration. She heard the splatter of water as Cearnach stepped from his bath and took hold of her shoulders, pulling her back to him. The damp heat from his body seared her skin. "Relax, beautiful Treasa," he whispered in her ear. "Your words will come soon enough." 32

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She felt his hot breath against her nape as he raised her hair and pressed his lips against her skin. She shivered in his embrace but made no protest as he turned her in his arms and pressed her against his chest. His large hands stroked her hair and down her back, until he cupped her buttocks and brought her up tight against his cock. Shock and a shiver of some unnamed desire raced through her as he pressed himself to her. She'd never felt this way before, except when she daydreamed about Ailin. How innocent had been those dreams, she thought, compared to the confusing emotions that swept through her now. She wanted Cearnach to kiss her. His masculine scent filled her senses, and she wanted more. She wanted to taste him and feel his flesh beneath her fingertips. Her hands settled on his strong arms, her fingertips tingling at the crisp hair, then she slid her hands upward and encountered the smooth taut muscles of his upper arms and shoulders. He felt sleek and dangerous. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she wondered at her boldness. This was not a reaction to the spell Queran had cast over her. If anyone had cast a spell here, it surely must be Cearnach. Her hands fluttered to rest on his broad chest where silken hair swirled downward. She wanted to follow its path, but she was clasped too tightly to him. She raised her head and met his gaze, dark and compelling, with a glint of light that made her heart skip a beat. His lips curved into a grin as he lowered his head. She felt his mouth on hers yet again and a shuddering started deep within her. 33

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At first, she stood still, unresponsive, while she adjusted to the taste and heat of him, the all-encompassing invasion of his tongue. Then a river of fire raced through her, and she tilted her head to give him better access. His big hand cupped the back of her head, and he deepened the kiss, probing, conquering, claiming, until she was without a will of her own. Her body flamed with unnamed desires, with needs she'd never guessed were possible between a man and woman. His hands at her waist, Cearnach picked her up and held her high, so her hands rested easily on his shoulders, and her feet didn't touch the floor. She felt like a flower in his grasp, weightless and free. As if understanding her response, he whirled her around while his laughter echoed around the rich room. She felt like a child again, when her father had lifted her in his arms and twirled her just so. But this was not her father, and she was no longer a child. This man was dangerous and exciting beyond anything she'd ever known. "Aye, lass," Cearnach said. "Queran has chosen well. You please me greatly." At the mention of Queran, Treasa withdrew her hands from his shoulder, holding her arms against her chest as if not to ever touch him again. But Cearnach was too taken by his own feelings to notice her withdrawal. He carried her to the bed and laid her gently on the rich, velvet coverlet. He loomed over her, his dark eyes taking in every detail of appearance. "Aye, you please me, Treasa and I hope that I may please you as well." He lay beside her and claimed her mouth again, his kisses playful, teasing and coaxing all at the same time, so she once again found her arms sliding around his 34

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shoulders, her fingers splaying through the damp curls at his nape. She gasped when one large hand closed over her breast, cupping it while his thumb swept across her nipple hidden only by the sheer silk of her robe. Her nipple tingled and tightened, so he lowered his head and suckled her through the sheer fabric. Her heart pounded with all the sensations he wrought, and she never wanted him to stop. Leaning on one elbow, he suckled both breasts until she could barely breathe, then impatiently he tore the thin cloth from her body and moved his hand down her belly, caressing her bare skin. When his hands parted her legs and paused over her mound, she stiffened, unsure what was to come next and whether she should allow such an intimate touch. But then his broad, rough hand separated her lips and brushed against her sensitive clitoris, and she gasped and tried to draw her legs together. "Shh, lass," he said, touching her lightly, smoothing his warm palm over her skin, calming her like a groom would a high-spirited mare. When she relaxed against the pillow, he took her hand and guided it to his penis. Her eyes grew wide when he wrapped her fingers around his engorged member. It was much bigger than she'd first thought, and she explored its size and shape. His hand had returned to her clitoris, and he gently stroked her, bringing a sparkling brilliance of sensation. She pushed her knees farther apart and half turned toward him. He chuckled deep in his throat, and she might have felt some humiliation at her bold responses, but she had no wish to end this. 35

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Somehow, she knew such a response had pleased him. And she wanted to please him. She thought of what pleasure she was feeling at his touch and thought to give him the same kind of pleasure. His penis, gripped in her hand, had seemed to grow even more and had become very warm. The skin was smooth to her fingertips. She explored more and found the tip of his penis was larger, bulbous, with a soft ring about it. She touched the fleshy ring, and his penis leaped in her hand. She ran her fingertips around it again and his cock bobbed. Then she discovered the slit in the very tip and explored it with her finger. Cearnach gasped, and he increased his rhythm against her clitoris, causing her to forget about his penis and concentrate only on the voluptuous reactions his actions brought. A sensation greater than she'd felt so far washed over her, a shadowy world of delicious pleasure, and she arched upward toward his hand, toward the building pressure that seemed to made her heart stop beating. She emitted half guttural sounds and moans while a swirling blackness claimed her. She heard screams and mewling and didn't at first realize they were her own. Cearnach kept up the rhythm with his fingers against her clitoris until she was unable to bear such exquisite pain and turned away from him, curling her body from his touch. His laughter was rich as he turned her back and parted her legs again. "No more," she sighed. "Have I hurt you, lass?" he asked roughly. "Nay, Sire," she breathed. "But I can bear no more." 36

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"As you know, Treasa, there is much more to come." He lowered his head, and she felt his tongue brush across her sensitive clitoris. The touch was devastating. He pushed her thighs open and parted her lips so his tongue slid over her slit, delving deep into her well and returning to lick at her sensitive bud. The dark sensations rushed up to claim her again, and she bucked against him, shouting in pleasure. At last, when she was as limp as a rag doll she'd once possessed, when her body was throbbing and satiated, he rose above her and brushed the tip of his penis against her clitoris. The touch was so soft, so sensuous that her tired body forgot all that had gone before and demanded more. He brushed her again with his cock then pushed the thick rod inside her. The feeling was fragmenting, driving her mad with a desire for more. He drove deep until she felt a tearing pain that made her cry out, then the pain eased, although tears wet her cheeks. "Holy Christ!" he exclaimed and withdrew himself from her body. He loomed over her, glaring and angry. "Queran!" he roared. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three **** "What in the Holy Virgin's name is this?" Cearnach demanded of Queran. His brother had been hastily summoned and arrived attired only in his robe. Now, he stood gazing down his nose at the king, a difficult thing to do since Cearnach was taller by several inches. "I'll have none of your blather, Queran," Cearnach warned. "I want the truth of what has happened." "Did she not please you, Sire?" Queran inquired in a tone of one asking if his king had not been pleased with his meal. "She pleases me greatly, as you well knew she would, but she's a virgin. I've made it clear I have no wish to deflower a virgin." "A virgin, Sire? I had no idea," Queran replied easily. "The slut has lied to me. You know these peasant girls will do anything to become a consort of the king." In his agitation, Cearnach had paced the room and now came to a stop before Treasa who sat up in the middle of the bed, the coverlet clasped beneath her chin. Looking at her, the rich sheen of her fair hair, the alabaster glow of her skin and the direct, unwavering gaze of her eyes, he suddenly realized something he should have seen from the beginning.

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"This is no peasant girl from the village," he snapped and whirled on his stepbrother. "You've played me false, Queran. Now I want the truth. No more prevarications." Queran shrugged. "Dear brother, what have I done to have you lose all trust in me? I serve you loyally. 'Tis all I desire. What I've told you about this wench is but what she has told me." He turned away for a moment then faced Cearnach again. "Perhaps she's a spy sent to your court by Blathal, and she but waits for a chance to slay you." He whirled and stalked toward the bed, his face twisted into a menacing scowl, his eyes black and hard as polished stones. Treasa jumped back, the coverlet dipping low over her breasts and revealing one shapely leg. Cearnach saw the alarm on her face and for the first time, considered what she must be feeling. "Enough, Queran," he ordered. "Frightening her will do no good." "It will if she's been sent by Blathal," Queran replied, not retreating from his advance on Treasa. "Tell me the truth, wench," he growled. "Who has sent you?" Treasa opened her mouth but no sound came from her. "Speak!" Queran shouted, raising his scrawny arm as if to strike her. "Or I'll have your tongue cut out so you may never speak again." Treasa cried out and drew back to the farthest side of the bed. "Leave her," Cearnach ordered, striding over to take Queran's shoulder and turn him away. "Can't you see? She's 39

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too frightened to speak and you're making it worse." He looked at Treasa. "Have no fear, lass. You're safe here." "But if she's a spy or an assassin, Sire?" Queran insisted, his black eyes alight with some feverish inner fire. "You are not an assassin come to kill me, are you?" Cearnach asked. Solemnly, she shook her head, her turquoise eyes bright with unshed tears. Looking at her, Cearnach remembered the taste and feel of her beneath his tongue. His cock stirred, and he quickly tampered down the desire. He'd never wished to take a virgin, understanding there was little else an untitled woman could offer her betrothed. "Are you from the village?" he asked gently. "Do not be afraid to tell me the truth. If it's so, and you came from the village, I will send you back to your family." A look of hope played across the girl's face, and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came. Cearnach studied her, knowing what he must do, although some part of him objected. He wanted more than anything to climb back into bed with her and finish what he'd started. He turned back to Queran. "Take her back to where you found her and give her a goodly sum of coin for her dowry when she chooses to marry," he instructed and turned back to Treasa. "Go with Queran," he ordered. "He will see you are returned to your home." The girl hesitated a moment, her expressive eyes darting from Queran to Cearnach, then she vigorously shook her head. 40

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"You see, brother dear. It's as I told you at the very beginning. She's a simple lass who thought to ingratiate herself to you. She has no desire to return to her humdrum life." "Do you wish to remain with me, lass?" Cearnach inquired, studying her face closely for any sign of hesitation. He'd not keep her against her will. She nodded and moved closer to him, her gaze toward Queran filled with mistrust. "Do you desire to fill my bed?" Cearnach asked. Her eyes met his, and he drew in his breath. She was guileless, and he could easily read her answer. She'd willingly participated in their copulating earlier and would do so again. A feeling of relief swept through him. "So it will be," he said. "You will be the king's consort for a time and when we are quit, I will settle a sum on you, so you may make a good marriage." Expressions of uncertainty followed by sadness swept across her beautiful face, then she lowered her head, so her hair fell forward and hid her eyes. He felt her withdraw and wasn't sure how to reach her again. "So it's settled then," Queran said, rubbing his bony hands together. "Get out," Cearnach ordered without moving his gaze from the girl. "Aye, brother." Queran sketched a quick bow that showed more mockery than anything else. When he'd left the room, Cearnach sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the girl. Taking one slender arm, he 41

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tugged her closer and held her against his side. He felt her trembling. "I sense you have much you wish to tell me," he said kindly. "I know you're not mute, for you've spoken to me this night." "Nay, I am able to speak but not to tell you what I must." She hesitated. "You've been kind to me." "I've taken your virginity." "But you didn't know, and I could not tell you." "Why?" Cearnach asked, but she made no answer. She'd fallen silent again. Only her great, beautiful eyes spoke to something deep inside him, and he was unable to unravel their mystery. "Would you like to mate again? I promise it will be very different this time. There will be no pain," he said. She raised her face to him again and nodded, but tears filled her eyes, so he bent and kissed them away. "I have no need to bed you yet again tonight," he said. "We'll rest now and speak again in the morning." He rose and shed his robe, unconscious of his nude body as he crawled into bed. Treasa stayed huddled where she was, but Cearnach drew away the covers, offering her a space beside him. Finally, she crept closer. He pulled her against his naked body and wrapped the covers around them both. With her head pillowed on his shoulder, he prayed he'd be able to contain himself. As if daring the fates, he slid his hand across the sleek, soft skin of her belly and rested it at her hip. For a long time, she lay stiff and unmoving. Finally, he felt her body 42

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relax against his and later still, he heard her breathing evenly in a deep sleep. What was he to do with her, he wondered? He'd never wanted a woman for anything more than to fill his bed and never for more than a few nights at one time. He had no time for a relationship with a woman, and he held must mistrust for women since his father's disastrous second marriage. He knew his advisors wished him to take a wife and produce an heir, but he had plenty of time for that. Now, he wanted only to secure his kingdom from their enemies and return Cahir Island to Clew Bay. Some evil spell had been cast over the island, and he must find a way to defeat it once and for all. He had no time for diversions. But the girl, Treasa, moved beside him, and he twined his fingers in her golden locks and thought a little diversion would be good for a man's soul and for his body. His cock stirred. She troubled him, yet he wanted her. He wasn't sure how long he would want her, but for now he was glad she'd agreed to stay. Yet, had she truly agreed, or had she had no other choice? He thought of how she'd winced when Queran was about to take her. Clearly, she was frightened of his stepbrother, and Cearnach didn't blame her. He had little doubt Queran would taste her charms before leaving her, and she seemed to know that as well. Cearnach cursed Queran. He remembered well when Ismenia came to Cahir Castle as his father's second wife. Cearnach's own mother had died in childbirth as had the babe. His father had been inconsolable until he found Ismenia. Then for a time, he'd been his former 43

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self. Then Ismenia and her son had come to Cahir Castle and things had changed. Cearnach thought of those years. He'd longed to have Ismenia love him as she did her own son, but such was not to be. Ismenia seemed to take offense at everything Cearnach said and did and finally even his own father had turned against him. Cearnach had learned to make a place for himself outside the castle, taking his meals with the castle guards, even finding sleeping quarters with them after a long day of training with weaponry and plotting battle formations. Glasney had been Cearnach's mentor during those long years, making the loss of his father's affection less painful. Cearnach had known Ismenia plotted against him, trying to turn his father from him, even to the point of convincing the king to name Queran as his heir. Once, he'd come into the great hall and heard them arguing. "Nay, I'll put no man ahead of my son. He is my rightful heir," King Riddoc had declared and from that moment on, Cearnach had known his father still loved him, even more than he loved Ismenia. When Riddoc had taken ill from a mysterious ailment, Cearnach had knelt at his bedside while his father gripped his hand and spoke urgently. "Have a care with your life, boy," the king said. "Send her and her Devil's spawn away. Better if I had drowned him when he first came to Cahir." He'd died then, his eyes blazing with warning, his mouth gaping with unspoken words. Cearnach had closed his father's eyes and prepared his body in death, hands crossed over his chest. Then he'd gone to tell the queen and to make 44

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arrangements to have her sent to a convent, where she would spend the rest of her life. He could yet hear her screeches of rage as the carriage bore her away. Queran had declared his undying loyalty to the new king, invoking their kinship, albeit by marriage only, as reason not to be banished. In the years since, Queran had proved himself useful, though Cearnach had never quite trusted him. All this ran through his mind while the girl slept silent and trusting beside him. Soon, the rhythm of her breathing calmed him, and he slept, deep and dreamless. In the distance, a cock crowed. The sound of it was familiar. Still in a half dream, Treasa leaped out of bed and ran to the window, gazing out at a scene foreign to her eyes. She blinked then sagged against the sill while all that had happened came back to her in frightened leaps. She had been kidnapped and taken to a strange castle where a man, a very frightening man, had cast a spell on her so she couldn't seek help. Then, she'd been given to a king as his consort. Memories of a large man with fierce eyes and a kind way about him came to her. Slowly she turned and looked around the room. At first, she didn't notice the man sitting quietly by the fire until he rose and took a step forward. The man of her dreams. Cearnach. King Cearnach and his brother, Queran. She gasped at the memory. "Are you well, Treasa?" Cearnach asked, moving toward her, concern on his face. For the first time, she realized she stood before him with no clothes save the thin scrap of robe she'd been given when her own clothes had been taken away. She cowered 45

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backward, crossing her slender arms over her body and cupping her mound. Her hair fell over her shoulder and covered her breasts. "Don't be afraid, lass," Cearnach said, coming to take her arm. "You know I won't hurt you." She made no answer but hung her head so her hair shielded her face. "I'm not afraid of you, Sire," she said softly. "It's just that I have no clothes to cover my nakedness." "Of course," Cearnach said, crossing to the bed and pulling the velvet coverlet free. He returned and threw it around her shoulders, enveloping her in its rich, soft folds. "I will see that you have gowns to wear yet this day," he promised. "Thank you," she answered. "If only you would have my own gown delivered to me and allow me to return to my home." He paused and looked at her. "So after sleeping on it, you've decided to return to your own family?" "Aye, Sire." "Who are your people, Treasa?" he asked, gazing at her intently. "Do they live here on Cahir Island?" "I—" She tried to tell him her father was the King of Bundoran on Galway Bay, but the words wouldn't come. Instead she fell silent, while she struggled against the strange miasma that claimed her. "Where do you belong, Treasa?" Cearnach urged when she remained silent. "Tell me. Who is your family?" "I have no family other than you, Sire," she answered even as her brain scrambled to tell him the truth. "I belong 46

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here with you as long as you want me." She let the velvet cover fall away and stood before him. "You said last night that you desired me. And so, I desire you." She met his gaze and slowly pushed aside the filmy silk of her robe so nothing hid her body from him. She saw lust flare in his dark eyes, saw the warring passions in his demeanor. Suddenly, a fierce anger passed over his features, and he reached for her, dragging her against his broad chest. One large hand tangled in her hair, and he pulled her head back so he could look fully into her eyes. "Is this true? Do you desire me as well?" he demanded. "Or is this some trickery of my brother, Queran? By all the saints, I'll have both your heads if you play me false." He lowered his head and took her mouth savagely, his lips grinding against her own, his tongue invading and mastering. They were both breathless when he released her and swept her into his arms. "I'll not play this game further, Treasa," he growled and stalked across the room to drop her on his bed. With impatient hands, he tore away his robe and paused for only an instant, his broad chest and burgeoning cock fully revealed. He took no time to woo her, not even to kiss or caress. He pushed her back and parted her legs. His fingers brushed across her clitoris, and she jerked. All the feelings he'd awakened in her the night before were back as insistent and demanding as ever. He towered over her and positioned himself between her legs, his hot cock bobbing against her nether lips. She raised her head and smiled, knowing that her own passion was clear 47

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in her eyes. Lifting her buttocks up from the bed, he thrust forward, pushing himself inside her. She opened her mouth to cry out against the pain, nearly the same as she'd felt the night before, but some other feeling suffused her being. The pain disappeared, and she felt him slide deep into her channel. He touched some part of her that quickened then he withdrew, and she wanted to sob with this new longing she hadn't known or understood before now. The desire was so all encompassing that there was no thought for anything else. He went still, and she opened her eyes and looked up at him. His eyes were dark and troubled. "Lass, in my anger at my brother, I've used you carelessly." He moved as if to withdraw from her completely, but she clamped her legs around his waist. "Then use me as you wish, Sire," she said softly. "You are not offended by my ways?" "Now is not the time to speak of offenses," she answered and snaked her arms around him, splaying her hands over his taut buttocks so she could press him closer to her. "Treasa," he said, his voice low and deep with emotion, his breath hot in her ear. He took up his rhythm, plunging into her until her head arched back and she moaned wordlessly. When he drew back, she felt shattered, abandoned, but she knew he would fill her again, and she opened herself to him even more. Sensations pushed against her, so she could no longer think, only feel and respond with a wild abandonment she'd never thought a part of her nature. 48

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She heard him groan and knew he felt as she did. She wondered at this mighty king who lay moaning his needs to her, then she wondered no more, caught up in the power of this thing building between them. His rhythm increased, dominating, demanding, and her body answered. She was no longer in the world she'd known, no longer in this grand castle on an enchanted island. She had gone to another plane of existence with Cearnach. The two of them struggling toward some fulfillment she knew they must find. Then she felt a rush of awareness, physical and mental, as they soared high above all human experience. Cearnach shouted hoarsely, and she heard a high-pitched scream as she raced to meet his final culmination with her own. Slowly, they returned to Earth, to the richly appointed room, to the large, soft bed. Cearnach pulled a cover over them and they lay spent, their mingled breath rising and falling together. Later as Cearnach pulled on his clothing and prepared to visit his troops, he glanced at Treasa and grinned. "Sure and you're a bonny lass," he said then crossed to the bed where she still lay. He studied her a moment, then pulled aside the cover, his gaze hot as it slid over her body. Treasa blushed and made a move to cover her breasts with her hands, but he pushed them aside and bent to catch a nipple in his mouth. Instantly, her body was racked with a throbbing desire. When he'd suckled both tips until they were rosy and puckered, he planted a kiss on her mouth then straightened. 49

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"I'll take the taste of you with me and the memory of this morning," he murmured huskily then turned away. His voice sounded preoccupied when he continued. "I'll have the seamstress come to take your measurements and bring you some gowns until new ones can be made for you. I'll also assign you a maid." "May I choose my maid?" she asked quickly. Cearnach turned to look at her in surprise. "You have one in mind?" "Aye, her name is Sanaid. She tended me before I came to your room." "If that is what you wish, so be it," Cearnach said. "Thank you, Sire," Treasa answered and sliding out of bed, walked toward him, her body fully revealed to his gaze. She knew it was bold thing to do, but when she saw the heat in his eyes she was glad she'd thrown aside her modesty. When she reached him, his arms wrapped around her and clasped her to him. She felt the roughness of his linen shirt against her nipples, the cold metal of his belt against her stomach and below that the swell of his cock as it grew. He kissed her until she was breathless, his tongue probing and subduing as he must always do and she acquiesced to his will. Reluctantly, he drew away. "Aye, lass, and you bewitch me. I would throw aside my duties and spend the day here in this room, but I am king with much to do." "I will wait for you here, Sire," she said softly and knew if that was what he required, she would do so happily. 50

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"Nay, lass. Have your maid show you around the castle so you may be at home here. Enjoy the castle garden, but don't go into the village. I want to take you there myself and will do so later this day." "Aye, Sire. As you wish." Treasa smiled, and he swept her into his arms again and kissed her deeply, then was gone, gently pushing her away and stalking out the door. She heard his hurried steps on the stones beyond, heard him call to his men and servants, then the sounds faded, and she was alone here in his great room with all the beauty and richness of her father's chambers. Remembering her family, she gathered a coverlet from the bed and curled up on the window seat to peer outward. There was no sign of her father's castle. They were surrounded by water and a foggy mist blocked the sun. She huddled on the window seat and thought of her sister Brynna and of Ailin. They seemed a million years away from her. She tried to bring up the old longings she'd once held for Prince Ailin, but her heart was closed to such feelings. She thought only of Cearnach, truly an uncommon man and a great king. Memories of the way he'd touched her when he made love to her, and her own emboldened responses, made her blush. What would her mother say to such behavior? But her mother was not near. The thought both exhilarated and troubled Treasa. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four **** She quelled her misgivings with thoughts of Cearnach. He would take care of her. He would see no harm came to her, even from Queran. At the thought of the king's stepbrother, Treasa drew back in the corner and pulled the coverlet tighter around herself. At that moment, the door opened and she gasped, half expecting to see Queran, himself, enter, but it was only Sanaid. Treasa's fears fled, and she leaped up to greet the serving girl. "Good morning, Treasa." Sanaid bowed slightly and crossed the room to stand before her. There was no sign of the humble servant about her. She stood straight and stared directly at Treasa's with eyes so cold and shiny black there seemed to be no bottom. Treasa felt a ripple of unease, then Sanaid smiled, and her eyes filled with warmth. Once again, she appeared as the kind young serving girl of the night before. "The king said you have chosen me to tend you. Thank you." She bowed slightly, her head barely dipping. "I have instructed Meara to bring you some gowns. In the meantime, I've ordered a new bath for you." She clapped her hands and at once, the door opened and servants rushed forward with a smaller version of the king's tub and buckets of hot water. In no time, Treasa was seated in the tub while still more serving girls hurried around to wash 52

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her hair and body with flowery scented soap. The warm water soothed her tender skin and eased the pain of her first sexual tryst. She wondered if such pain would always be there or if her body would become accustomed to the king's invasion. The memory of Cearnach's cock, hard and hot, filling her channel, made her body tingle at the memory and she blushed. "Ah, you've had a momentous night with the king," Sanaid observed and put out a hand to brush her hair from her face. "That is well. I've heard the king is a splendid lover." "Where would you hear such a thing?" Treasa asked. "Do servants talk so about their king?" "Aye, we share our experiences so we might better serve Cearnach," Sanaid said and brought a thick towel to wrap around Treasa when she rose from the tub. Treasa looked up at the maid. "Have you been taken to the king's bed?" "Aye, I've shared the king's bed," Sanaid replied, her lips curved into a secretive smile that made Treasa want to slap her. She hadn't the right, Treasa reminded herself and fought the irrational sense of betrayal not unlike that she had felt when Brynna had revealed Ailin loved her and wanted her hand in marriage. But such could not be, Treasa told herself. She didn't love the king as she did Prince Ailin. Wrapping the towel tightly about herself, she strolled to the window and looked out. On a distant hill, she saw Cearnach astride a magnificent white stallion, leading his men from one side of the field to the other in battle maneuvers. 53

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Even from here, she could see the breadth of his shoulders and the power of his body. He rode as one with his mount. Sensing a presence at her back, Treasa turned and met Sanaid's gaze. "Is he not a magnificent beast?" the maid asked. Treasa guessed she didn't mean the stallion. "Come, help me dress," she commanded and turned to the bed where her clothes were laid out. "Of course," Sanaid answered and leisurely set about doing Treasa's bidding. In no time, she was garbed in a full gown of fine linen with embroidery at the sleeves, neckline and along the hem. A cord of silk bound her waist, and her feet were clad in dainty, embroidered slippers. "Come, and I will dress your hair," Sanaid suggested. "I'm very good at it." Treasa pushed aside her earlier pique and settled on the window seat while the maid took up a rare, bejeweled comb and applied it to Treasa's fair locks. When they were smooth and silky, Sanaid gathered her hair into a fat braid down her back and placed a plain band around her head from which a sheer scarf was affixed. Standing back, Sanaid surveyed her handiwork. "You are as beautiful as a princess," she said with satisfaction. "But I am a princess," Treasa cried and paused in wonder that she was able to utter the truth. An idea struck her, and she gripped her maid's arm. 54

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"Sanaid, you must help me. I have tried to tell Cearnach the truth of who I am, and how I came to be here, but each time I try, my tongue is unable to form the words. It's as if a spell has been cast over me. But I have been able to tell you. You must tell the king the truth of who I am, so he can right this situation." "You are truly a princess?" Sanaid said with cynic disbelief. "Aye. I am King Arthgallo's youngest daughter. I was kidnapped from Bundoran Castle by Queran. You must tell Cearnach, so he may know that Queran is plotting against him." "What is he plotting against the king?" Sanaid asked. "I'm not sure, but I think it must be harmful to Cearnach and his people," Treasa said with some exasperation. "Will you tell the king?" "But if what you tell me is not true? The king will punish me for lying to him." "No, I won't let him," Treasa said, gripping her arm even harder. Sanaid pulled away and stood rubbing her arm, her expression unreadable. "I will be there the whole time, and if I'm unable to speak, I will nod my head so Cearnach knows you speak the truth for me. Will you do it, Sanaid?" "If you wish me to say these things to the king, I will," the maid answered. "Oh, thank you," Treasa cried, throwing her arms around the serving woman and hugging her. "Do not fail me. You are the only friend I have here." 55

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"Then, I will do as you say," Sanaid murmured and turned away to direct the other serving girls to clear away the bath. "Come. I will show you the castle," she said finally. With a lighter heart, Treasa followed her out of the room and through the long corridors to other chambers. She saw many rooms filled with rich furnishings and beautiful tapestries. The great hall held two fireplaces large enough for five men to stand upright. Clean, sweet-smelling rushes covered the stone floors. The two girls climbed circular stairs to round towers and walked the parapets where they were able to gaze at the village and at the miles of fertile fields abundant with crops of grain and vegetables. From the high castle walls, Treasa was able to glimpse the sea and wondered where her father's land had gone. There was no sign of it. From below came the sounds of men and horses. Cearnach galloped into the bailey and, hearing her startled cry, looked up. She waved to him and heard his laughter roll around the grounds. He stepped out of his saddle and tossed the reins to a waiting stable hand and bounded up the steps and disappeared into the castle. Suddenly, she had an intense desire to find him and throw herself into his arms. Holding her skirts high above her ankles, she rushed down the stairs and along the shadowy corridors until, at last, she stood before him. Once there, she was reluctant to show such abandon. She thought of how perilous her situation was. She wasn't sure whom she could trust. But Cearnach held no such reservation. His strong arms caught her and swung her around. Cearnach's laughter filled the corridor and suddenly, 56

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she felt less afraid. Giggles erupted from her mouth. When at last he set her on her feet and looked into her eyes, his face sobered, and he pulled her against his chest and lowered his mouth to hers. His breath was hot against her cheek, his kiss filled with hunger and desire. She couldn't resist him. Her arms crept around his neck, and she gave herself to his kiss. She lost all count of where she was or who was about until she felt Sanaid brush past them and hurry away. Treasa drew back and glanced down the hall after the serving woman, troubled that the maid had disappeared so quickly. "What is wrong, Treasa? What has brought a frown to your lovely face?" Cearnach asked, bending down so he might gaze into her eyes. "There is something I wanted Sanaid to say to you, Sire," she answered in perplexity. "But I seem to have forgotten what it was. I'll remember another time." "It will come to you again, if it's important," Cearnach said in agreement. "In the meantime, I want you to come ride with me. I want to show you my island." "And I should like to see it," Treasa replied and realized her words were true. She had a great curiosity about Cearnach and his kingdom. They rode about the island and down into the village of Cahir, where the people paused in their labors to bow and call out a welcome to the king. He greeted each and every one by name, stopping now and then to inquire about crops and livestock or a new babe. Clearly, his people loved him. Once, he even stopped and lent his shoulder to a man trying to push his cart from a quagmire. 57

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"Sire, your fine coat is dirtied," the man said, holding his hat in his hand and bowing to his sovereign. "Have no care, Connor," Cearnach replied. "It can be washed away." Thoughtfully, Treasa watched all this and wondered at Sanaid's words that the king was evil and hated by his subjects. This was not a king who was feared by his people. They loved him and felt free to approach him as her father's subjects did him. Something was amiss, she sensed, and she was caught in the middle of it, but she had no wish to flee. She thought of Cearnach and the forces around him that wished to bring him down. Queran was clearly at the head of some conspiracy against the king. She opened her mouth to tell him of her fears, and once again felt her throat constrict so she couldn't speak. Silently, they rode through the green countryside, and she saw that the land was very beautiful. Sunlight gleamed on the distant waves and dappled the ground before them. "Your island is very beautiful," she said softly and was surprised at the sound of her own voice. The affliction that had kept her silent only moments before seemed to have disappeared. Cearnach smiled. "Aye, it is. Once the island was part of a great kingdom, but some spell was put on the island, and now it is torn away from its original mooring, and we are forced to wander the shorelines of other kingdoms. Some are hospitable to our presence, many are not, so we have had to learn to protect ourselves until we move to another location. "What became of the rest of your kingdom?" 58

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Cearnach shrugged, and she was caught up in the size and splendor of this handsome man, the shape of his head, the set of his chin, the hot light in his eyes when his gaze met hers. She remembered, again, the things he'd done to her during the night and in the early morn, and she blushed, not in the least bothered with the memory. She thought that only yesterday, she'd been a virgin princess who'd believed herself in love with a callow, young prince. That seemed a lifetime ago. Truly, a spell had been cast over her. "Did you lose the rest of your kingdom?" she asked when Cearnach failed to answer her question. "Nay, 'tis not lost, although sometimes I think it would be best if it were. There are men, greedy kings, who endeavor to take my kingdom as their own. So I must return to my homeland and fight to drive them out and show them I am still a strong protector." "Is that where you yesterday?" Cearnach nodded his great head. "Aye, I'd just put down the forces of an ambitious minor king who would build his holdings at my expense. He's already taken my bride as his and foments rebellion among my people who are left to fend for themselves." "How do you know where to find the island when you're ready to come back?" she asked. Cearnach reined in his fine steed and shifted in his saddle to look at her. "I do not know how that occurs, but I am always able to return to the island. It is part of the kingdom of Ballyshand and can never truly be taken away." "Ballyshand?" Treasa looked startled. 59

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"Aye, lass. 'Tis the name of all my kingdom of which Cahir is a part." He nudged his steed's sides and they moved forward again. "'Tis the fairest land in all of Ireland. 'Tis why my father, and his father before him, built Clare Castle on the mainland. My kingdom is split. Most of my people and holdings are on the mainland and without a protector. We are prisoners on this island, all save I. "When I return to the mainland, I may not take any of my soldiers from Cahir. I must rally the men left behind at Ballyshand and lead them into battle. Without me there at all times, they have lost their bellies for fighting and their skills have dulled. Many more die each time we fight." He paused and pushed his hair back from his broad forehead. "I must find a way to break this spell." "How long has the island been under this spell?" Treasa asked, thinking the same spell must be affecting her as well. Perhaps if she understood more about it, she could find her own answers and cast off the miasma that claimed her. "When I was a child and my mother died, my father took a second wife, and for the first time, the island moved. Our people were frightened and claimed the new queen had brought about this spell, but my father insisted it was not so. He believed the world would right itself and our island would eventually settle into its own place again. He had many wise men and soothsayers examine what had happen in the hope of finding a solution, but it was not to be. "When my father died, his dying wish was that I should send Ismenia to a convent. I wasn't sure I could send her from the island, but she was able to leave. Still, the spell was 60

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not broken, so we go on, trying to understand, trying to find the secret that will untangle us from this curse." "I'm so sorry," Treasa murmured, touching his sleeve. His hand clamped over hers. "Don't fear, lass. When the time comes, if you must leave the island, I'm sure it can be accomplished. You weren't born here. You aren't one of my people." "No, I'm not," she answered softly and wondered why she felt so bereft at the thought. Perhaps it was because she wanted to belong to someone and even in her father's castle, she'd belonged to no one but herself. She recognized her thoughts for the self-pity they were and vowed when she was able to return to Bundoran Castle, she would appreciate her home and family much more than she had so far. "Look," Cearnach called, pointing to the sky. She was roused from her introspections to follow his gesture. A pigeon circled high in the sky. Even as they watched, it soared lower over the island and finally landed. "Come, lass," Cearnach called nudging his mount forward. "There's a message for me." Without looking back to see if she followed, he galloped away down the road and there was nothing for her to do, but urge her mount to follow. The ride downhill and along the shore was exhilarating. The wind tugged strands of hair from her neat braid and fanned color in her cheeks. She was laughing when at last they came to a halt near the dovecotes and pigeon pens. A man had already captured the bird and was removing something from a small cylinder tied to his leg. 61

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"What is it, Benen?" Cearnach called and slid out of his saddle. "'Tis a message, Sire." the servant said. Cearnach opened the cylinder and slid out a tightly rolled paper. Quickly, he opened it and read the message. The pleasure on his face throughout their ride disappeared, and in its place dawned the grim-faced warrior of her dreams. "What is it, Sire?" she asked softly. He jerked his head up and looked at her as if he'd forgotten her existence. For a moment, she read the mistrust in his gaze, the flare of anger, then doubt as he studied her. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five **** "'Tis naught," he said and rolled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. "We must return to the castle, at once." Without further ado, he led the way back, and she followed silently, wondering at his sudden bad humor and his withdrawal from her. He spoke not a word to her until they reached the bailey and the groom came to take their horses. He helped her dismount then captured her chin so he could look deep into her eyes. "I have no way to know if you will play me false or not," he muttered. "But by God, I cannot send you away from me." His hold on her chin tightened briefly and his eyes turned black. Strangely, she wasn't frightened. She knew this change signified the depth of his emotions. She waited, silent and still, while he continued to study her. Then he released her chin and took hold of her arm. "Come, I will escort you to my chambers where you will be safe." "That's not necessary, if you must occupy yourself elsewhere." Her words made him turn and study her again, and she saw his suspicion of her had returned. She curtsied. "I would be most pleased if you would accompany me to your chambers, Sire." She placed her hand 63

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on his crooked arm as she had seen her mother do to her father many a time and tread lightly and swiftly into the hall and up the stairs to the rich suite of rooms she'd occupied before. Cearnach opened the door and bowed to her. "Madam, make yourself comfortable in my absence." "You are going away again?" she asked, startled. "Aye, but I will soon return. 'Tis but a small matter I must attend." He bowed and kissed the back of her hand, then straightened and looked deep into her eyes. She saw the lust flare in his own gaze before he took her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. His lips were urgent, his tongue possessive, his passion hot on her tongue. He took all thought from her. The taste of him, the rhythm of his tongue moving against her own, the heady scent of him, wakened emotions still new and mysterious to her. Her body clamored for him, her senses reeling before his onslaught. Her knees grew weak and she might have fallen if he hadn't held her to him so tightly. When finally he set her back on her feet, she clung to his arms to steady herself and glanced into his eyes. They were dark and hot with the same desire she felt. "Hurry back," she whispered. He smiled. "Aye, I will," he said huskily and he departed, his footsteps clattering on the stone steps as he descended. She stood unmoving until he was well out of sight, then she rushed into his bedchamber and to the window where she threw open a sash and gazed down on him. Already mounted on his magnificent steed, he was watching for her. He raised 64

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a hand in a small salute. Then he was gone, goading his mount into a fast gallop as he left the castle. Still breathless, Treasa settled on the window seat and wondered where he was off to now? Would he leave the island and go to fight on his own? How far must he travel to get back to his split kingdom? Would his enemies lay in wait to ambush him? And what of Queran? What horrendous plans had he for Cearnach? And how would Queran use Treasa for his own nefarious purposes? Darkness had fallen outside while she lay wondering. Wearily, she rose and shed her garments. Nightgowns had been left for her use, and she chose one of soft linen with a high, ruffled neckline and long sleeves. No one had come yet to see to her toiletry, so she loosened her own braid and climbed into bed. It seemed far too large and empty without Cearnach there. She lay thinking of how he'd cradled her in his arms through the night and wished he were there now. No supper was brought to her, but Treasa had little care. She grew sleepy and gathered Cearnach's pillow to her so she might breathe in the lingering masculine smell of him. Soon, she fell into an exhausted sleep. Sometime during the night, she awakened to a stygian blackness that pressed against her chest. She gasped for air. Someone was in the room. She could hear them breathing, feel their presence. "Cearnach?" she half whispered, but there was no answer. "Who's there?" she said, fear rising like an on-rushing tide, choking her, pulling her down toward a darkness more fearful than the night. 65

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She heard a sound like a brush of cloth and sensed a being, malevolent and evil, moving closer. Whimpering, she scrambled to the far side of the bed. "Who are you? What do you want?" she demanded, but there was no answer, only an all-encompassing danger from which there was no escape. "Queran?" The word crossed her lips, sighing into the room with hardly any sound, yet it echoed in her head like a clanging, warning bell. "Go away!" She screamed the words in defiance. "Leave me alone." "Treasa!" The sound of Cearnach's voice came from the corridor. She heard his quick steps on the stone steps. "Cearnach, help me!" she screamed again then drew back as a whirring filled the room, and a dark shadow flew from the window. Her senses failed her, so she drew the covers over her head and lay sobbing. "Treasa, lass, what troubles you?" Cearnach's voice called to her. She threw back the covers and saw that a light had been brought into the chamber. It chased away the blackness and sent it scurrying to the corners, where it wavered against the stone walls. "Cearnach!" When he rushed toward the bed, she scrambled to her knees and flung herself at him. He caught her in his arms and pressed her against his hard body. She was safe once more, she thought as she laid her head against his chest and cried out her fears. 66

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Cearnach soothed her, brushing back her hair with his big hands, wiping at her tears and uttering comforting sounds as her mother had done when she was a child. "Shh, lass. You've had a bad dream." "Someone was here, in the room," she said, shaking her head. "What?" Cearnach drew back to look into her eyes. "Who was it? Did you see him?" Trying hard to subdue her sobs, Treasa shook her head. "I didn't see him. It was too dark. But I know he was here." Cearnach was silent a long moment. Finally, reluctantly, he replied softly. "There was no one here when I entered, and he couldn't have come from this room, or the guards I placed there would have seen him. There's no way out of here. Are you sure it wasn't a dream?" "I tell you, he was here. Just before you came in, he escaped out the window." Cearnach crossed to the window and peered out then turned to face her. "There's no one about below and no rope to allow someone to lower himself. He would have been badly injured on the cobbles below if he had jumped." "He was here," Treasa whispered. "I'll have my guards look around below," Cearnach said. She was glad he hadn't discounted her claim. Still, she knew how it must look. Cearnach crossed to the table that held the jugs of whiskey and poured her a glass. "Drink this to calm your nerves," he said, handing it to her. With trembling hands, she took the glass and drank, shivering as the fiery liquor raced down her throat and burned 67

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a path to her stomach. After a moment, when she feared she might spit the brew up again, warmth spread through her body and rushed to her brain, bringing a stultifying calmness. Cearnach replaced the glass on the table and began pulling off his armor and garments. Keeping on his leggings and shift, he crossed to the bed and lay down beside her, pulling her close in his embrace and holding her until her body stopped trembling, and she lay supple and relaxed against him. "I was so frightened," she said, gripping his shirt. "I'm here now," he replied softly, smoothing back her hair. "Naught will harm you, I promise." "Why did you return so soon?" she asked. "I feared you'd be gone for days or even weeks." Cearnach nodded. "It was a false alarm," he said. "The minute I realized it was so, I rushed back." "Why would someone send you a false alarm?" She raised her head slightly to look into his eyes. "They wanted me gone from the island for some reason," he replied. "Or else thought to fall upon me unexpectedly and take my life." "They wouldn't, would they?" she asked, anxious again. She thought of the presence of someone in her room before Cearnach had arrived. Now that incident seemed less frightening to her than the thought of assassins attacking him on the road. "I have many enemies, Treasa," he said quietly. "Enemy enough to kill the king?" she demanded. Her heart contracted with fear for him. 68

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"Never fear, lass. If something were to happen to me, you'd still be safe. My guards would see you were safe, and my steward would see you were returned safely to your home." "'Tis not just about my safety," she declared. "I don't want you to be killed." He laughed, a chuckle deep in his throat, and his eyes glinted with approval at her reaction. "So you don't hold a grudge against me for my behavior toward you, lass?" he asked softly. He brought up a finger to sweep along her cheek and brow then to outline the contours of her mouth. Treasa shivered as if with a chill, but it was of a different caliber than what she'd felt earlier this night. Cearnach smiled and smoothed the tip of his finger over her jaw line, down her throat to the smooth plumpness of her breast and finally, to her nipple, which he circled again and again. Even covered with linen, her nipple hardened, tingling for more of his touch. She bit back a moan, not wanting to appear too wanton, but he wasn't fooled. He tugged at the hem of her night shift, inching it up her body. "Let's get rid of this shroud," he muttered, tugging the garment over her head and pitching it to the floor. When she sat before him nude with the moonlight gilding her skin, he traced her jaw and lowered his head to hers. His kiss was hot, his need all too evident. He took her lips, kissing, sucking, nipping, then he slid a line of kisses down her throat to her breasts where he did the same, first to one nipple, then to the other. She was gasping for air by the time 69

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he was finished. Gently, he pushed her back against her pillow and rose to his knees where he skimmed out of his clothes. The moonlight shone through the open window, lighting the planes of his chest and muscular shoulders. He leaned over her, bracing himself on his arms, which surrounded her like columns of granite. Impulsively, she turned her head and placed her lips against the hard muscles, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Then she nipped him lightly and giggled as he reared over her, roaring with mock rage. When their laughter died away, he stared into her eyes, his gaze dark and intense, sucking away her breath, and her will. In this moment, she was his in all ways. Her body tingled with anticipation. As if sensing her needs, he lay down beside her, resting her head against his shoulder and pulling her into his body. His kisses grew deeper, more intense, all playfulness gone. "What is this enchantment you've cast over me?" he murmured. "Why do you draw me to you in such a manner? When I am with you, I am no longer a king, I'm just a man. You make my kingdom seem as naught while you show me a new kingdom filled with delight and passion. You are a witch." "Nay, Cearnach," she answered softly. "'Tis I who am held captive by you, and I fear the day when you grow tired of me and move to another." His head jerked up, and he stared at her with consternation. "Why would you think this? Has someone been talking to you?" he demanded, moving away slightly. 70

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She hesitated, reluctant to have the tenderness between them end. "My words are not meant as a rebuke, but as a desire to always remain in your favor," she answered, meeting his gaze. As her words touched him, she saw the fierce lines of his face soften, saw the glint of some emotion in his expressive eyes that took her breath from her. "Have no fear of that, lass," he whispered. "I am not an inconsistent man. I keep close what I hold dear." His statement her heart in a way she'd never thought possible. Her arms went around his neck, and she offered her mouth to his, taking the initiative to plunge her tongue deep, dancing it against his until he groaned and wrapped his arms around her. "No more, lass," he whispered finally, "or I'll take you like a rutting stallion without mercy. I want to give you pleasure this night and for many nights to come." "What of your pleasure, Sire?" she asked. "My pleasure will come with yours," he answered. He delved into her mouth in a rhythm that made every part of her body come alive. She arched her back, striving to get closer to him. Her breasts were flattened against the hard muscles of his chest, and her nipples ached to be touched to be suckled. He released her as if having read her mind and traced a hot, wet path down her throat to the soft orbs, where he caught her nipples between his teeth and his tongue. He suckled until she cried out for more—more of his touch, more of his body. 71

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When both nipples were swollen and sensitive almost beyond bearing, he trailed a path down her belly. Bending her knees, he shoved them wide apart and bent over her. Still caught in the throes of passion his attention to her nipples had brought about, she wasn't aware of what he planned to do until she felt his tongue, hot and rasping against her clitoris. She jerked, slamming her thighs against his head, but he pushed them apart again and continued stroking her slit with his tongue. She arched her back and widened her knees and feared she might turn inside out, so great was her response to his oral caresses. Moaning, she rolled her head from side to side and brushed her hands over her body until she gripped her own breasts. Cearnach shoved aside her hands and took hold of her breasts, kneading and caressing, while his tongue continued to devastate her. He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger until they tingled with unbearable sensations. When she was groaning with the need for release, he shifted and cupped her buttocks in his big hands, lifting her up so her legs lay over his shoulders, giving him full access to her. His tongue delved inside her channel, kissing, probing, tasting before he went back to her clitoris. She felt a release coming and could do nothing to stop it. She bucked and arched, shuddering with her climax. She felt herself come then Cearnach was there, his rasping tongue catching the cream of her passion. Finally, he drew back, smiling down at her. "Forgive me," she murmured in her haze of completion. "I gave you no release." 72

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"We are not finished, lass," he said softly. "The night is young, and we've only just begun." He leaned forward and kissed her again, gently at first, his lips barely brushing against hers. He nipped her ear lobe, his hot breath rousing feelings she'd thought satiated. She turned her head and offered him her mouth. Her tongue danced against his. She nibbled his lips and drifted tiny kisses down his chin to his broad chest and finally to his nipples. Did men feel the same when their nipples were suckled, she wondered? She closed her lips over the nubbins. Instantly, his nipples hardened, and he drew in a sharp breath and gripped her arms tightly as if he might push her away. She reapplied her attention to his nubs, laving them with her tongue before suckling them. He was breathing quickly and groaning. His penis had hardened even more and nudged against her stomach. Instinctively, she moved down his body and gripped his shaft, reveling in the hot smoothness, exploring its shape, the cleft in the tip and the soft, pebbly skin behind the bulb. "Lass," he whispered and tugged at her. But she would have nothing of it. He'd given her so much pleasure she wanted to give him the same. She closed her mouth over his cock, surprised she could fit him into her mouth as he appeared so huge. She heard his sharp gasp and, holding the base of his penis, she began to move her mouth up and down over the head. He arched his body in ecstasy, and she sought some other way to add to his enjoyment. She gathered his balls into the palm of one hand and gently massaged them, pleased to hear his reaction. He 73

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seemed to be in his own world of pleasure just as she had been when he'd caressed her. She resolved to make him come the way he had her, but Cearnach had other ideas. With a final, lustful shout, he pushed her away, flipped her on her back and reared above her, spreading her legs, bending her knees, bringing her feet over his shoulders. Positioning his cock at the entrance to her channel, he plunged. She felt his penis, hard and penetrating, felt the touch of him deep inside in that secret place a woman carries. He withdrew to the very beginning and plunged again. She arched her body, feeling his sweet invasion through every inch of her being. He repeated the action, increasing in rhythm until she felt herself climbing a high precipice. When she fell over the other side, she heard someone scream and Cearnach's answering cry. Briefly, she realized she'd been the one to scream, but it no longer mattered. She was lost to another world and Cearnach was there with her. Her muscles clenched so hard, she hoped they'd never release, that this climax would last forever. Finally, she sensed Cearnach's muscles relaxing. He slumped on the bed, half on and half off her. She shifted to keep him deeply seated within her and drifted toward sleep. She sighed at the thought that Cearnach would waken her again during the night. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six **** Treasa awoke and stretched languidly. Her body still hummed with the memory of Cearnach's love making. Giggling, she rolled into a ball on her side and thought of all the things he'd done to her, and the things she'd been moved to do to him. In her happiness, she thought of her sister, Brynna and wished her the same passion she had experienced. Then the memory of Ailin, affable, sweet Ailin, for whom she'd pined so mightily came to her, and she knew he was not the sort of man to bring a woman to such fulfillment. She hoped he might be, for she sincerely wished her sister happiness. Rising, she ran to the window, threw back the shutters and peered out into the bailey in the hopes of catching sight of Cearnach, but he was nowhere to be seen. Obviously, he was busy somewhere, seeing to the running of the castle and his divided domain. Sighing, she turned back to the room, which was flooded now with sunlight. Sanaid had once again not come to tend her, or bring her the morning repast. She would dress herself, fastening her gown the best she could and go down to the great hall for food. Perhaps Cearnach would be there. In no time, she was clattering down the stairs and racing to the great hall, but it was empty and no servants came to bring her nourishment. Too impatient to wait, she followed 75

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her nose out the servants' entrance down the stairs. Before she'd reached the lower level, she heard the shrieks of someone in great pain and an angry voice screeching. Rushing forward, she entered a wide room not unlike the kitchens in her father's castle, where several fire pits heated the air and food turned on spits above the flames. But no servants tended the fires. They stood half turned away from the source of torment. A girl lay on the floor bloody and weeping, holding one hand up as she begged for pity. But the woman whose back was turned to Treasa simply raised a piece of firewood and struck the girl again, who screamed and withdrew her arm, which hung mangled and crooked. The woman raised the firewood again. "Stop!" Treasa cried and rushed forward to seize the woman's arm. The firewood fell to the floor between them. Treasa gasped as the identity of the woman was revealed. "Sanaid! What are you doing?" The maid's face was twisted in fury, and she looked far older than the young girl who'd tended Treasa her first night on the island. A demented light gleamed in her eyes, and her mouth was an evil slash across her face. Then the light died away as Sanaid sought to bring herself under control. "'Tis is of no concern of yours, Treasa," she said harshly. "Go back to the king's bedchamber, and I will bring you some food shortly." Her manner was autocratic, arrogant, and Treasa was stunned by her attitude. Raising her chin and straightening her shoulders, she narrowed her eyes at the maid. 76

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"I will not go upstairs. You have no right to speak to me in such a disrespectful manner, just as you have no right to beat this girl. What are you thinking?" Before her eyes, Sanaid changed. She hung her head and covered her face with her hands. "I'm beside myself," she sobbed. "This girl is lazy and disrespectful. She steals and spends her time dallying with the kitchen lads instead of doing her chores. I don't know what else to do with her." She sobbed so vehemently her shoulders shook. Not sure what to do, Treasa glanced at the other servants around the kitchen and caught something in their quickly averted glances that left her troubled. "No matter what this girl has done, you have no right to beat her so. Now, dry your eyes and go upstairs and prepare a bath for me. I wish to go for a ride, and I shall want a bath when I return." Sanaid raised her head and gazed imploringly at her mistress. Treasa saw that the woman's tear-stained cheeks were once again plump and rosy like a young girl. "I'll go at once," she said and, gathering up her skirts, sped out of the room. Treasa could hear her footsteps on the stone steps. Casting a glance around the assembled kitchen servants, Treasa knelt beside the injured girl who cradled her arm. "Are you badly injured?" she asked. Weeping, the girl shook her head and tried to sit up. "I'm all right," she said in a small voice, gulping back the tears. "Thank you for your kindness." 77

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"She had no right to do this to you," Treasa exclaimed in outrage for the thin, fair girl. She looked half-starved, and now Treasa could see the shadows of old bruises, which marred a face that would have been beautiful otherwise. "Beggin' your pardon, lady, but she does it all the time." A fat man moved toward her. "Poor Abby can't escape Sanaid's angry tirades, especially after Abby has spent the night with Prince Queran." "Queran?" Treasa echoed, looking at the girl's delicate face. "Does he beat you, too?" The girl looked away and made no answer. "Aye, he uses her hard most times, but it was worse this time. He called for her in the middle of the night, and he was in a fury. She came down all bruised and looking scared. Sanaid found her in Prince Queran's room, and Sanaid and the Prince had a terrible row." "Aye, ma'am, she spends a lot of time in the Prince's room." A woman crept forward, her hands and arms covered with flour. "I'm Bertie, and this here's Eth. I'm thinking Sanaid wants the Prince for herself, but he pays her no mind. He always calls for the young girls down here. Poor Abigail was barely more than a child, only fourteen and a virgin, when he first took her." "Now he chooses her over all the others." Eth took up the tale. "The other girls are glad enough to see his attention on someone else for a change, but we feel bad for Abigail. I tell the lass, it will soon be over. She'll soon be too old for him to 78

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bother. He likes 'em young and virginal. Now she's with child and when he learns, he'll leave her alone." "If he don't have her taken away during the night," Bertie spoke up. "We've had plenty enough who just disappear. Ain't no girl is safe from that Queran. He's an evil man, he is." "But this is horrible." Treasa suppressed a shiver as she thought of Queran in her room the night before. She was certain now her vision had not been a dream. "Have you said nothing to the king?" "We must go through Queran." Eth shrugged eloquently, leaving the thought unfinished. "I will speak to him for you," Treasa said, bending over the girl. "Your torment is finished." Mutely, Abby raised her eyes to Treasa's, and she saw all the hopelessness in the girl's gaze. "I promise, I will do something to save you," she whispered, gripping Abby's hand. The girl flinched and cried out. "Her arm is broken, miss," Eth said, kneeling beside the girl and examining the broken limb. "I heard the bone snap." "Can you fix it?" Treasa asked worriedly. "Aye, I've set many a bone in my day," Eth said, "Bertie, bring some straight pieces of kindling from the wood pile. Cooey, fetch me the bottle of cooking wine." Bertie and the young boy hurried to their tasks. Eth bent over Abby, taking hold of her arm. "This is going to hurt, lass, almost as much as the breaking, but I'll have you fixed up soon enough, so you'll not be a cripple with this arm." 79

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Cooey rushed back with the bottle of wine and Eth held it to Abby's lips. "Drink deep, lass. 'Twill dull the pain." While Abby sipped at the wine, Eth looked at Treasa. "You might want to retire, lady," he said. "I'll stay here." Treasa helped Abby turn on her back and grabbed her good arm. "Hang on to me as tightly as you need," she directed. Abby nodded, managing a smile through her pain. When the wine bottle was emptied, Eth set it to one side and without further ado, took hold of Abby's arm and pulled. Abby's grip on Treasa tightened, and she bit her lip until there was blood, but she made no outcry. Treasa was the one who wanted to scream with the imagined pain. She heard a grating of bone, and Abby's body relaxed as she fainted. "Aye, that's good," Eth said. "It will be less painful for her when she wakens." Taking up the wooden splints Bertie had brought, he tied them around Abby's arm and sat back on his heels, his expression somber. "These things never used to happen here on the island," he observed in a low voice. "It's as if an evil spell was cast over the lot of us." "Ever since the old king brought that witch and her Devil's spawn here," Bertie said. "Shh! Have a care what you say," another woman spoke up and turned back to her kitchen chores. Chastised, Bertie went back to her table and began kneading the mounds of dough she'd left. "Cooey, help me carry her to her pallet," Eth said. 80

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The boy helped Eth move her to the back of the kitchen behind the open fire ovens where a row of pallets lay on the stone floor. Treasa followed and wondered what it must be like to sleep on such a hard bed after a long day's labor. "She'll sleep for a while, lady," Eth informed her. "You'll do no good to wait here. Did you come to the kitchen for a reason?" Treasa thought of the hunger that had driven her here and slowly shook her head. "God directed me here," she whispered. Immediately, she made her way to the stables and requested a horse. "Do you have any idea where the king has gone?" she asked the stable hand. "Aye, lady, he's gone to the far end of the island where they are building a wall. I will ride with you and take you to the king." "Thank you." She saw Cearnach, tall and erect in his saddle, long before they reached him. When they drew closer to him, he caught sight of them and rode to meet them. "Treasa," he cried with obvious pleasure. "Sire," she said and gave a half-bow. "You may return to the castle, Grady," he called to the stable hand. "I'll escort the lady back myself." Grady doffed his cap and set out the way they'd come. Cearnach dismounted and went to help Treasa down. He led her to a patch of grass high on a cliff overlooking the sea beyond and pulled her down beside him. 81

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"Your arrival is most fortuitous. 'Tis time for me to return to the castle and rest a bit." He glanced at her quizzically. "You're very quiet this morning, lass. Mayhap I used you too hard during the night?" "Oh, no," she said quickly. "You could never act in such a manner, although your brother surely does." Cearnach's eyebrows quirked upward. "And how would the lady come to know this?" he asked teasingly. "Have the maids been trading tales with you. I hope you gave a good accounting of my prowess." "Do not jest, I beg you," she answered Cearnach waited for her to continue, but she sat staring out to sea, her fingers restlessly plucking the strands of grass. "Tell me what has set you all asunder," he said, edging closer to her. "I know there's something. Your eyes give you away. Usually they're as bright blue as the summer sky, but today, methinks a thunderstorm is brewing." "A young, serving girl named Abby was beaten this morning, and her arm was broken," Treasa blurted out. "She had been raped during the night and many nights before." "I'm sorry to hear that, but perhaps she deserved the punishment." Treasa swung about to glare at him. "You tell me, Sire. Had she done something to warrant being raped, abused and having her arm broken?" She held his gaze, daring him to dismiss this incident without doing something. "Lass, 'tis not what I mean," he said soothingly. "No one should be treated thusly. My servants have never been 82

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abused nor are they raped. Do you believe she tells the truth?" "Aye," Treasa snapped. "All the other servants present verified what has happened to her. And she's not the only one. Eth said Queran likes the young virgins who come to work at the castle and apparently, he's treated them all badly. You must do something to stop his behavior, and you must send Abby away, so she's not mistreated again." Cearnach sat silent for a long time, his eyes nearly black as he watched the waves below. Finally, he turned back to Treasa. "My brother is not an honorable man. I've shown much patience with him, believing he would change when he saw he has a place here at my side. I'm deeply disappointed in this behavior." "As I said, 'tis your bro—" Her throat constricted, and she couldn't get the words out. "Yes, go on. What more has he done?" He frowned. "I-I-" Again her throat closed off and she could only stammer. Tears of frustration filled her eyes, and she clasped her hands together as she thought furiously of how she could tell Cearnach what had happened. A thought came to her and she turned to him, gripping his sleeve in her earnestness. "Talk to Eth," she blurted. "He can tell you." "You can tell me nothing of what is wrong?" He studied her troubled face. "Only this, Cearnach. You must send Abby from the island. She is in danger and has been injured and needs a safe place to heal." 83

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"And why wouldn't she be safe here at Cahir?" he asked. Once again Treasa opened her mouth to speak, but the same affliction that had held her silent before did so now. She was surprised that she'd been able to speak of Abby at all then realized that anything she might say against Queran was blocked. But what of Sanaid? "Sanaid," she said. "She hit-hit Abby and b-broke her arm." She rushed to get the words out before her throat closed once again. "Abby is just a child, not yet out of her teens, and she's with child." Her throat muscles tightened again so that she was unable to draw a breath. The pressure grew until she clutched at her throat as if to stay unseen hands that choked her. Her face grew red, and she fell forward against Cearnach's shoulder. "Treasa," he called in alarm. She said nothing, but a coughing sound emerged from her open mouth. Her eyes met his, sending a desperate message. At once, he saw she was unable to breathe and pushed her back on the grass, his hands tearing at the laces of her garment. Suddenly, with a gasp, Treasa felt air fill her lungs again and she gasped in deep, steadying breaths. "Your maid drew your laces too tight this morning," he said. "I'll speak to her the moment we reach the castle. Are you able to ride?" "Wait, Cearnach," she whispered and strove to make her voice stronger. "Sanaid did not help me dress this morning. I did it myself." 84

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"Then why this attack?" Cearnach demanded, his face filled with concern. "That is something I can't tell you," she said, raising a hand to his cheek. "But listen to me carefully, Sire. You must find a way to remove Abby from the island else something bad will happen to her. Promise you will." "I will, if you feel so strongly about it. She's from the mainland and should be able to leave." He paused, studying her. "Why do you have this fear for her well-being when you, yourself, are in such straits?" "Eth," she said and felt her throat muscles tighten yet again. "I can say no more." "Then let's return to the castle where you can rest." He gathered her up in his arms and carried her to his horse. Placing her in his saddle, he mounted, cradling her against him as he turned toward the castle. "Tell me, lass," he said, his breath hot against her cheek. "Why have you not asked me to send you from the island so you may return to your home?" Treasa was silent for a long moment then raised her face to look into his eyes. "I never thought of it, Sire," she whispered. "This feels like my home now." She fell silent, knowing the words she'd spoken were true. What enchantment that brought her here had also fashioned her heart to love the island and its ruler. She didn't tell him that. This secret was another thing she couldn't tell Cearnach. She smiled as she leaned her head against his broad shoulder. One day, he would tire of her and find another, or Queran would choose another for him. Such a moment would 85

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bring her great pain, she knew, but she would endure it and perhaps if Cearnach freed her, she would return to her family. Surely, they would be glad to see her again and ascertain the vast change in her. She was no longer the thoughtless, headstrong girl her mother had sought to send away from Bundoran Castle. Another thought came to Treasa as she rode nestled against the shoulder of Cearnach, Warrior King of an Enchanted Island. She no longer loved Ailin, if she ever had. How could she after a man like Cearnach? At the castle, Cearnach insisted she return to his bed and that a tray be brought up. He hovered over her, helping her disrobe, tucking her under the covers, leaning his head close to see if she struggled to breathe. His physician was summoned and listened to her chest and peered down her throat. He muttered to himself and declared her sound of body and mind before departing. "See, I told you I was well enough. It was just a spell, now passed." Her smile faded away as Sanaid entered the room bearing a tray of food. "Is she ill, Sire?" the maid said, her voice softened by her country burr. Treasa saw that she looked young and defenseless. It was hard to imagine her as the mad woman who'd attacked Abby with firewood. Sanaid placed the tray on the table and crossed the room to peer at her mistress. "Did you have a spell, lady?" "I am well now," Treasa said stiffly. "You needn't stay." "As you wish, lady." Sanaid's demeanor changed subtly. 86

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Her eyes turned to the muddy color of the bog, reflecting nothing, not even light while a rim of white showed below her pupils. Treasa felt an evilness emanating from the woman's countenance. "You may go!" she said. Sanaid grinned and turned away, crossing to the door. Cearnach watched silently. "You spoke to her sharply," he said when they were alone. "Does she not please you? You can always have another servant if you wish." "Yes," Treasa said quickly and again felt the tightening. "No." She turned her head away and clenched her fists. She was caught in some sort of spell, she was certain of it now, but how to extricate herself and warn Cearnach of the danger here in his castle was the problem. Cearnach waited for her to go on and when she didn't, brought the tray to the bed. "Sanaid brought so much food, we'll share," he said, setting it between them. Although ravenous earlier, Treasa was sure she couldn't eat a bite. Cearnach took up a succulent morsel of meat, placed it on a slice of bread and held it out to her. She shook her head. "Come, lass, you must eat something. It will make you rest better." "I can't," she muttered and pressed a hand to her mouth. "Are you certain?" At her nod, Cearnach opened his mouth and took a big bite. 87

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"No!" Treasa cried, knocking the food from his hand. "Spit it out, at once," she demanded. Cearnach stared at her with dark, serious eyes and did as she asked. "What ails you, lass. You can tell me." "I can't tell you." She couldn't meet his gaze. Cearnach looked from her to the tray of food and his jaw tightened. Picking up the tray, he rose. "Rest, Treasa. I'll leave Sanaid outside your door in case you need anything." He paused. "Are you afraid of the maid?" Mutely, Treasa nodded. "I'll summon a man to guard the door. You're safe here." He watched her a moment more, then turn and left the room with purpose in his stride. Treasa lay back against the pillow and tried to sort out all that had occurred that day. Surely, her fears were groundless. She was imagining these things. Everyone at home had called her fanciful, but the words had been said indulgently, now she wondered if they were true. She thought of the terror of not being able to draw a breath and wondered why the spell had come and why it had gone away just as quickly. She'd been about to tell Cearnach of Sanaid and Queran, and she remembered how in the past, she'd not been able to do so. Darkness seemed to swirl around the castle, taking away its beauty and grace, leaving behind a taint of evil. More frightened now as she had ever been before, Treasa pulled the covers up to her chin and curled into a ball. [Back to Table of Contents] 88

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Chapter Seven **** Cearnach stood looking into the large room where servants moved quickly, tending to boiling pots of vegetables and spits of roasting meats. The smell made his stomach rumble with hunger, but first he had a task to complete. As he moved forward, a woman taking a fragrant loaf of fresh bread from an oven turned and caught sight of him. "Sire!" she cried, nearly dropping the bread. Quickly, she placed it on a table and turned to curtsy to him. The other servants heard her and left their chores to bow. "Don't let me interrupt you," he said. "I've brought back the food Sanaid brought to my chambers. The lass wasn't feeling well enough to want food at this time." The woman who was baking the bread nodded and took the tray. "I'm sorry to hear the lass is unwell, Sire," she said, bowing slightly before whisking the cold food away. "Cooey, take care of this." The boy leaped up to take the tray and carried it to a far corner where Cearnach observed him filching a chunk of meat for a dog, which hovered in the doorway, and one piece for himself. "Is Eth here?" Cearnach asked. The man presiding over the spit of meat came forward and bowed. 89

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"I was told to talk to you about a girl named Abby," he said and was surprised to see the servants draw back, their gazes averted. "Treasa told me to speak to you." "Then you know about the lass," Eth said with some relief. "She's right back there if you'd like to speak to her. Come. I'll take you to her." Cearnach followed the man to the corner where a number of pallets were arranged on the floor. A frail girl lay on one, her arm wrapped in a makeshift cast and sling. Kneeling, Cearnach looked at the girl who lay with her eyes closed, her lashes pale against her pallid cheeks. "What happened to her arm?" he asked. Eth told him of the scene earlier that day, and how Treasa had stopped the fight and helped tend the girl. "Are you sure, she did nothing to warrant such punishment?" he asked, stalling while he tried to sort out everything he'd heard. "Nay, Sire. She's a good girl who tries hard to please." Eth proceeded to tell him about Queran and how he used the girls, and how Abby had suffered the most at his hands. Cearnach's face tightened with anger when Eth finished. Abby had awakened during the recital and gazed up at Cearnach, her eyes wide with fear. "Don't be afraid, Abby," Cearnach said. "Treasa has spoken to me of your plight. I'll see you safely off the island and to a convent where you can heal and bear your child in peace. Can you travel?" "Aye, Sire," the girl answered strongly. "If it means I may leave the island." 90

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"So it will be," Cearnach said, rising and turning to Eth. "She'll leave immediately. I'll send two of my guards to accompany her." "Thank you, Sire. God's blessing on you." "I'll speak to my brother about his ill use of the servants, but for a time, I want you to hire older women from the village." Eth grinned, "Aye, Sire." He frowned. "But Prince Queran has ordered me to do otherwise." "If he objects, tell him to see me. No never mind. I'll talk to him myself." A loud cry came from the other portion of the kitchen. "Eth, come quick, 'tis Cooey. The boy's grown ill." Cearnach and the cook ran around the ovens to the young boy who lay on the floor, writhing in agony. "Poison," Eth said at once. "Bertie bring the—" But the serving woman was already racing toward him with a stoppered bottle. "The dog is dead, too," she said. Eth knelt beside the boy and forced the contents of the bottle down his throat. "Bring water," he shouted. But once again, Bertie had anticipated him and had a pitcher of water at hand. Eth worked over the boy until he wretched up a chunk of half-digested meat onto the floor. Cearnach had been about to leave the kitchen, but Eth's claim of poison and a desire to see if Cooey was safe, kept him there. He thought of how the boy had eaten from the tray of food prepared for Treasa, and his mouth tightened. He 91

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remembered, too, how she had knocked the food from his hand when he'd meant to partake of it. How had she known? Had it been a trap set for him and she'd been part of it, but had changed her mind at the last minute? Or did she have a greater understanding of what was amiss than he did? "Bertie," he called to the serving woman. "Who prepared the tray that was taken up to the lady?" Bertie's face paled at the implication. "Why, only Sanaid," she answered. "She wouldn't let none other touch it." "Where is Sanaid now?" "I don't know. She's not been around since then." "Take the food from that tray as well as this..." He toed the piece of meat Cooey had expelled. "And put it into the fire. Make sure no else eats any of it." "Aye, Sire," Bertie answered and hurried to do his bidding. "He's better now," Eth said, nodding at Cooey. "I think we got him in time, but he'll not be good for much until he recovers completely." "Let him rest until he's better," Cearnach said. Eth beckoned to a couple of the other workers and they came forward to carry him to his pallet. The head cook stood looking at his king. "Is there naught else you wish of me, Sire?" he asked. "Have a care who comes and goes from this kitchen," Cearnach replied. "Sanaid is not allowed to enter, nor is she to serve the lady above. Is that clear?" "Aye. I'll see your orders are carried out," Eth said with some satisfaction. 92

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Cearnach returned to his chamber to check on Treasa and found she'd fallen into a deep, restful sleep. Not wishing to bother with the questions he had, he returned to the hall and summoned Queran and Sanaid to the great hall. "He's not in the castle," a servant finally came to inform him. "He was seen riding out from the castle sometime this morning." "And what of the maid, Sanaid?" "She's disappeared, Sire. We've searched the castle and can't find her." "Send men to search the island. In the meantime, I'll look for my brother. When he returns, tell him I wish to see him immediately." "Aye, Sire." Too restless to sit waiting, Cearnach rode out of the bailey and turned Caith, his stallion, toward the south wall where he'd been directing the work that morning. He was greatly troubled by this turn of events. Perhaps Queran had been right when he'd said Treasa was not to be trusted? Maybe she was part of some conspiracy against him with her maid, Sanaid? He remembered how quickly the beautiful girl had chosen that particular servant when she first came to the castle. Then he thought of everything the kitchen servants had revealed—the cruelty against Abby and Treasa's intervention. Treasa had berated Sanaid in front of them all, and they seemed to believe her actions were true. He thought of her face that morning when she spoke of the incident. Her face had conveyed the anger she'd felt on Abby's behalf. And what 93

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of the strange affliction that had made her unable to speak and had taken her ability to breathe? Was she under some kind of spell, the same as his island had fallen? He found Queran in the village square, taking a cup of ale from a buxom tavern maid. The girl's head was bowed, and she glanced around uneasily. It seemed Queran's reputation was well known among the young women of the island. Cearnach rode closer. "I wish a word with you, brother," he called. "Of course, Sire," Queran said with a deep, mocking bow. He rose and stared at Cearnach with an insolent grin. "I would speak to you alone." "You may speak here. Renny is my friend." He wrapped an arm around the barmaid and pulled her tightly against his side. Blushing, Renny averted her eyes and studied the cobble street. Cearnach's lips tightened at Queran's continued defiance toward his king. "What do you know of a girl named Abby?" he said, his face taut, his expression stern and accusing. Queran looked startled, then he laughed, the sound hollow and forced. Abruptly, he released the tavern wench, roughly shoving her aside. "You sought me out to question me about a kitchen servant?" he demanded, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at his brother. "Aye, I have," Cearnach said firmly. His narrowed gaze never shifted from Queran's face. 94

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"Why should I know anything of her? She's a drudge in the kitchen and of no interest to me." "Save in the middle of the night?" Cearnach said. He noted that Renny had crept back toward the tavern, but now paused to listen to the words being spoken. Her eyes met Cearnach's then she quickly averted them, but not before he caught a note of mingled triumph and fear. So his brother treated all women badly, he discerned. "You will leave the castle servants alone, all of them, as well as the village girls. If I hear of any woman being raped or beaten by you, and I will have my spies listening for such stories, then you will be exiled from this island and the rest of my kingdom." Queran's factious grin disappeared, and he once again glared at Cearnach. "You have no right to speak to me like this, brother. Everyone knows I should have been king, but at the last minute you tricked your father into naming you." "I am the rightful blood heir to the throne," Cearnach replied sharply. "Your mother knew that well when she came here, although she tried to turn my father against me. I've allowed you to remain here as a prince of my kingdom although you abuse your privileges as you abuse innocent girls who can't fight back. Get out of my sight. You disgust me!" Wheeling his horse, Cearnach rode back to the castle. At once he went to his bedchamber to check on Treasa. She was just waking, and he studied her as she stretched like a beautiful feline, unaware she was being observed. When she caught sight of him, she smiled and pulled the covers under 95

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her chin. Slowly, he saw her good humor disappear as she remembered all that had transpired this day. "Did you talk to Eth?" she asked hesitantly. "Aye, and I've talked to Abby. She's on her way to a convent at this very moment." "Thank you, Cearnach," she cried with obvious relief. "It was a wrong that needed righting. Did you think I would not?" he asked quietly, his gaze intense on her. "I hoped you would," she said. "I—I was certain you are an honorable man." A thought occurred to her. "How were you able to take her off the island?" "She was not born here, but came from a village on the mainland. She'll be safe at the convent and can heal with the nuns watching over her. Queran's mother is there as well, but I sent instructions that there is to be no contact between the two of them. Abby can work with the nuns." He moved to the side of the bed. "Oh, thank you, Sire," Treasa said, clasping her hands together. Her smile was luminous for a moment then her expression fell. "But what of the other young serving girls? Queran will only do the same to them." "I've spoken to Queran and made clear such things will not be tolerated here," Cearnach said with such finality she knew he would make certain of their safety. "I've also instructed Eth to hire new serving women, all of them over the age of twenty and ten. The young women who have served thus far will be given a settlement dowry and will return to their families." 96

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"Oh, Cearnach, how kind of you." She sprang to her knees and rained kissed over his face. He laughed and gathered her in his arms. His kiss was long and ardent. "Now, lass, there's one more detail. You are not to partake of any food in the castle for a time, unless it is served by Bertie, herself." "Why?" Treasa asked studying his face, then she sat back and her shoulders drooped. "Someone tried to poison us?" "Aye. I believe Sanaid was the culprit. She's disappeared and we haven't been able to question her." "But why would she want to do that?" Treasa demanded. Her gaze met his. Cearnach noted the suspicions darkening her eyes. "She had a grievance against you. You berated her in front of the other servants. Don't say anything," he warned, "until we know what this spell is that threatens your life." She nodded and leaned her head against his chest. He felt her shivering. "Eth will see that another woman serves you. I've set guards at the door. They are to accompany you wherever you go." "Thank you," she said softly. He could still hear the fear in her voice, but she made no further mention of it. She was an incredibly brave woman, he thought. "I have one final question to put to you," he said. She raised her head. He saw no evasion in her clear, blue eyes. "Anything," she said. 97

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"You have requested my help in getting Abby off the island and to safety. Why have you not asked the same for yourself? Do you not wish to escape from my bed and return to your home?" Her expression registered surprise. "I had not thought of that," she said in wonder. "Do you wish me gone?" For an answer, he drew her into his arms and kissed her deeply. When he released her, they were both breathless. Cearnach locked his gaze with hers and slowly disrobed her, kissing the delicate lines of her jaw, throat and finally her breasts. He schooled his own desires and took his time, as if memorizing every inch of her sweet body, every enticing curve. He drew in her scent, an erotic aphrodisiac that drove him mad, and ran his fingers along her slender arms as they wound around his neck. Finally, when she whimpered an unspoken command, he took her as gently as when he'd first began, his immense self-control still in evidence. She was a precious vessel to him, tempered by fire, yet delicate as a blossom. He didn't want to crush her or leave a mark on her alabaster skin, still he longed to claim her and leave a brand so all would know. She was his, his alone, and no man or woman must ever harm her. His grip tightened, and she sighed her approval. He made love with a restraint he'd rarely shown before until she voiced her dissatisfaction. But he won her over with his gentleness. Sighing, she gave herself to him while he scribed his devotion and passion on her body and soul. They 98

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came together, reaching that higher plain that seemed to belong to them alone. Their voices mingled in a mutual culmination that blocked out the world around them. Afterward, Cearnach held her against him, breathing in the scent of her hair and skin, thanking God for bringing her to him. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eight **** Cearnach had left, and she was alone again. He'd been called back to defend his kingdom from a neighboring king named Blathal, who wished to expand his holdings at the expense of Cearnach and his people. Now she was left in a castle that seemed alien and filled with danger for her. The only friends she was certain of were Eth and his kitchen servants and the guards outside her door. She was virtually a prisoner within this grand building. Without Cearnach, it held no charm for her. She spent the days in her room, emerging only to walk the parapet in the hopes of seeing Cearnach's arrival. Some days when she could no longer bear the solitude and inactivity, she rode around the island on the little mare that was quickly becoming her favorite. All the while, she was followed at a discreet distance by the two guardsmen Cearnach had assigned to her. Once in the great hall, she passed Prince Queran who bowed elaborately, a mocking grin on his face. His eyes were dark and menacing, promising some unknown retaliation, and she'd turned away from him, suppressing a shiver. Nearly a fortnight had passed since Cearnach's departure when Bertie sent a frantic message to Treasa to come to the kitchen at once. With the guards trailing behind, she hurried downstairs and was led to hidden corner of the kitchen where 100

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a young woman sat huddled, her face covered by a plain shawl. When she heard Treasa's voice, the woman threw aside the shawl and gazed at her. "Abby," Treasa whispered. "Why have you returned? It isn't safe for you here. Cearnach is away. There's no one to stop Queran if he should find out you're back." "I had to come back to warn the king," Abby said. "He was so kind to me as were you, I had to return your kindnesses." "What can have been so important as to place your life in danger?" Treasa demanded, sitting on the pallet beside the girl. "I fear for your safety, and the king's," Abby said in a small, trembling voice. "I heard many things between Sanaid and Queran when they thought I wasn't listening. Now I've learned that the queen, Queran's mother, is no longer at the convent as the king believes." "Not there? Where has she gone?" Treasa asked. She knew little of the former queen, but she sensed that Cearnach had no liking for her. And since the woman was the mother of Queran, Treasa was predisposed to feel the same. "No one knows where she's gone to," Abby said, "but even the nuns fear her. They believe she's evil, and they said she had a great hatred for her stepson, the king." Treasa sat thinking of Abby's words. "She wouldn't have come back here, would she?" Bertie, who'd stood nearby listening, stepped forward. "Aye, she'd come right back here," the serving woman said. "She wanted this castle for herself and her devil's spawn of a son. She wants him to be king instead of Cearnach. She 101

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did everything she could to turn the old king against his son and when it didn't work, she poisoned the king." Treasa's blood ran cold at the thought of the danger to Cearnach. "We must stop her and Queran. Would he have brought his mother here and hidden her in the castle?" "Aye, and right he would, but when the castle was searched for Sanaid, no one saw the queen. They would have spoken up. I've heard naught of it." "We must be on guard while Cearnach is gone," Treasa said. "In the meantime, Abby, you must return to the convent. You'll be safe there, and you aren't here. If Queran caught sight of you, he would surely harm you. Bring one of the guards waiting at the doors to me." When the guard arrived, Treasa instructed him to take Abby back to the boat waiting for her and to return as quickly as possible when he was sure she was safely away. "I'm afeerd, ma'am," Bertie said. "There be evil afoot." "But the evil is man-made," Treasa said. "And we can overcome that." "Don't be too sure of that," Bertie answered. "I've seen things in this castle since Ismenia and Queran came. This was a happy place before that." "It'll be a happy place again," Treasa vowed and prayed she was right. Two days later, they found Abby's body floating at the bottom of a cliff, her head crushed, her body broken and bruised. 102

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"I swear to you, ma'am, that I saw her safely to her boat," the guard said. "Her oarsman was arriving when I left her." "Are you sure it was her oarsman?" Treasa insisted. "She said it was. She said she was safe enough now, so I thought it all right to leave her. I'm sorry if I've been amiss and caused the girl's death." The man looked contrite enough, and Treasa had no heart to berate him. She dismissed him with words of thanks and paced her room, thinking of poor Abby and the wee bairn she'd never hold in her arms. Treasa had no doubt that Queran had gotten his hands on her and brought about her death. There was nothing more for her to do but stay out of Queran's path until Cearnach returned. More than ever, she was grateful for the guards he'd left. She spent days alone in her room with only Bertie and her new maid for company. At night, when she was secure in the big bed, she hugged his pillow to her and prayed for his safety as well as those inhabitants of the island. Bertie was right. Some great evil lurked over them all. Several days later, Cearnach returned in the middle of the night and woke her with hungry, impatient kisses. His lovemaking was unrestrained, and she followed his lead, joyously. He used his hands and tongue to explore every quivering, erogenous place on her body until he brought her to one screaming climax after another. Later, when they were too exhausted to move a muscle much less think, they lay in each other's arms, and he told of his battles with his worst enemy, King Blathal. 103

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"Blathal knew things about us he hadn't known before," Cearnach said. "He nearly defeated us, and it's only a matter of time. Soon, my kingdom will be gone." He sighed wearily. "I hate to add to your burden," Treasa said, "but you need to know of the dangers on the island as well." She told of Abby's message regarding the queen, and the serving girl's subsequent death. She felt Cearnach's body tighten with anger. He clenched his teeth and drew in his breath sharply, growling a curse. "He'll be sent from this island, and I'll set a guard to see that he never returns," he vowed. "What of his mother, Queen Ismenia?" Treasa asked reluctantly. "Eth believes the queen is hidden here on the island as is Sanaid." "We'll scourge the island until we find them and expel them from here. I won't abide anymore bedevilment." "Everything will be all right," Treasa said, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him near. "Close your eyes and rest now, my love," she crooned against his ear, much as a mother soothes an upset child. But she held him for many hours before he finally slept. At first light, Cearnach roused Treasa from her slumber. "I go in search of Queran," he told her. "He'll be sent off the island at once." Quickly, Treasa dressed and followed him to the great hall, where Queran was summoned. But no one was able to find the prince. Cearnach snapped and cursed and finally, unable to sit still any longer, invited Treasa to go for a morning ride 104

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with him. Instructions were given to notify him immediately when Queran appeared. Mounted on her favorite mare, Treasa rode along beside Cearnach maintaining a silence he seemed to welcome. She knew he was deeply troubled over the danger stalking his people. Suddenly, a loud sound like thunder came from the forest and smoke billowed above the trees. The noise and smoke spooked the horses. They reared and pawed the air, their neighs high-pitched and fearful. "Treasa, bear hard on the reins," Cearnach commanded as he fought his high-spirited mount. Despite his efforts, the stallion gave a final cry as if to throw Cearnach from its back and broke into a hard gallop down the path. Treasa's mare followed, eyes rolling in terror, ears flattened against her head. Treasa sawed at the reins but to no avail. The horses raced through the wooded path and out the other side to the riverbank. The silvery shimmer of water passed by in a blur. Cearnach's stallion veered away from the riverbank. Treasa heard his sharp command, but Caith gave it no heed. The ground beneath them grew spongy and dotted with puddles of water. Treasa kept her head down. She heard Cearnach's bellow and looked up in time to see his horse jump, soaring over a wide patch of bog. She had no time to gather herself as her mount tried to follow, nor was the little mare as powerful as the stallion. It fell short of the solid ground and landed in the bog. Confused, it tried to leap out but only carried them farther into the 105

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sucking mud. In its efforts, it lost its footing and fell on its side. Treasa was thrown clear and landed without any injuries. She counted her blessings and tried to regain her footing to wade out of the bog, but the mud held her fast. She felt it sucking at her body as if trying to pull her under. Panic coursed through her mind as she thought of all the tales of unwary travelers who'd wandered into such a place and were never heard from again. "Cearnach!" she cried and was rewarded with the sound of horse's hooves. Then he was there on the side of the bog, staring at her with horror in his eyes. "Cearnach!" she cried again, reaching out to him. "Stay still, Treasa. Don't struggle. It will only make you sink faster." He ran toward his winded mount that stood trembling nearby. Sweat glistened on Caith's coat, and he snorted as if trying to get his breath. Cearnach snatched a rope from his saddle and quickly fastened it to his saddle, then led Caith toward the bog. Treasa was weeping now as the mud pulled at her like a demon determined to claim her. She felt the tightness across her chest as it rose higher. Behind her, the young mare squealed with terror. "Take hold of the rope," Cearnach called and tossed it toward her. But it fell beyond her reach. It didn't matter, for her arms were caught in the mud, and she was unable to move them. "I can't," she cried. "My arms are caught." 106

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"Try to free your arms, Treasa," he shouted and in his anxiety, plunged forward into the bog. "No, stay back. You'll be sucked under, too." She saw the denial on his face. He gripped the rope tied to Caith's saddle and moved forward another step and reached for her. "Take my hand!" he commanded, his jaw set, his eyes black. He was the fierce warrior of her dreams from the last night she'd spent in her own bed. He had frightened her then, but he didn't now. She knew he would never give up on rescuing her even if it meant his own death. "It's too late, Cearnach. Save yourself," she sobbed. His dark gaze captured hers, willing her not to give up as he held out his hand. "Take hold of me, Treasa, or you'll die!" His compelling gaze locked on hers as he strained forward, willing her to do as he commanded. She felt a new strength within herself and struggled to free her arm from the mud's grip. She reached for Cearnach's hand. Their fingertips brushed, but she was still too far away. Cearnach renewed his grip on the rope. Caith neighed a protest, but Cearnach called to him then took another step toward Treasa. His hand clasped hers, his fingers wrapped around her wrist in a death grip. "Haw, Caith," Cearnach called to his stallion. Treasa felt herself slide toward the bank. With a sucking sound, the mud reluctantly gave up its quarry. Caith pulled them from the bog and, at Cearnach's command, stood with 107

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his muscles trembling. Cearnach caught Treasa up in his arms and carried her to a dry spot. The mare squealed again, the sound weaker now. She was more than half submerged with mud covering most of her body. Only by stretching her neck upward was she able to keep her nose and mouth free. The mud roiled about her as she kicked, trying to escape. "Oh, Cearnach, do something," Treasa cried. "She's frightened. She can't die like this." Without a word, Cearnach ran to Caith and unclipped a bow and arrow. Taking a stance, he aimed at the struggling mare then loosed an arrow. The missile entered one of the horse's eyes and buried itself deep. The mare stopped struggling and lay its head down into the mud. Treasa watched in horror as the beautiful, young mare sank out of sight. Treasa looked at Cearnach, words of anger and accusations pushing to be said, until she caught sight of his face. "There was nothing more I could do," he said, "except make her death easier." Treasa wept then for the lovely mare she'd enjoyed so much, for the aftermath of her own terror and for the gratitude that Cearnach hadn't given up. He came to gather her in his arms, and she clung to him. "I had a dream once," she said when her sobs had quieted. "You came and saved me as you did today." "'Tis fate, lass," he said in a strangely subdued voice. "Some strange power greater than my own brought you to me, and I can never let you go." With a muddied hand, he tipped up her chin and settled his lips on hers. 108

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She responded whole-heartedly then drew back. "We'd best return to the castle as quickly as possible," Cearnach said, picking her up and walking to Caith. He helped her into the saddle then climbed up behind her, cradling her in his arms. She'd never felt so safe. Cearnach guided Caith forward, and the valiant horse followed his command. Soon, they were moving at a steady pace back toward the castle. "I've muddied your handsome jacket," Treasa exclaimed when she noticed the smear on his velvet sleeve. "Never mind," he said, pressing her closer. "Do you think rich clothes mean more to me than you do? I would give up all I possess to keep you at my side. I love you, Treasa. I want you to be my queen." "Oh, Cearnach," she sighed, suffused with more happiness than she'd ever known. "I have many things to tell you about myself, but I am unable to speak of them before this affliction closes off my throat." "Then don't try. I wouldn't care to see you suffer as you did before." He spoke against her ear, his breath hot and reassuring. "You don't care what my past is?" She tried to look at him over her shoulder. He smiled. "Stop squirming," he said with laughter in his voice. "It isn't important to me. I see your goodness and sweetness. My people would be blessed to have you as their queen." He frowned. "If I'm able to maintain my kingdom, that is. You may be sharing a dungeon with me." 109

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"Then, so I will," she replied staunchly. Then a thought came to her. "Cearnach. I know someone who will help you." "Who?' he asked, and she sensed he was indulging in, more than believing in, her offer. "I would take any help I could get." "My father! He has a large force of fighting men, and he would gladly do all he could to help save your kingdom." "Why would he do that, and who is your father?" For the first time, it occurred to Treasa that she'd been able to speak freely of her father. Could she really tell Cearnach about herself? And what had happened to the spell that had kept her mute? She had to try. "My father is King Arthgallo," she said without any impediment. "Oh, Cearnach, I can speak of my family again— my mother, Queen Dierdre and my sister, Brynna and her fiancee, Prince Ailin of Bunratty. My family lives at Bundoran Castle on Dingle Bay. So did I, but I was taken from there by your brother." Cearnach growled in his throat, and his grip tightened on her. A silent response to what had happened to her. "He sought to use me in some way against you." She twisted in the saddle nearly losing her seating except for Cearnach's strong arms. "He hates you. He does many evil things, and his mother is not at the convent anymore, and he has Sanaid to help him with his evil plans. That first night, when I was to be presented to you as a..." She hesitated for a moment, not certain what she'd been intended to be. "He planned to use me to help defeat you." 110

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"His plan failed," Cearnach said. "We're nearly there. Once we have him and his mother in hand, we'll have them exiled from the island. I want you to go directly to your room, bar the door from the inside and stay there where you'll be safe. I'll send two men to guard the door." "I want to stay with you," she protested. "I'll be able to do this better if I know you're safe. First, though, we must send a messenger to your father, requesting his help." They rode into the bailey and at once, Cearnach dispatched a message to King Arthgallo as per Treasa's information, asking for help in his kingdom on the mainland. Then, hand in hand, they entered the castle. At once, men fell upon them, bound them and shoved them forward into the great hall and toward Queran who had taken a seat on the throne. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine **** "I hear you requested my presence, brother," Queran observed with a note of triumph. "What is the meaning of this?" Cearnach demanded, straining against his bindings. "Why, brother, it simply means that I have taken my rightful place as king of this kingdom. You haven't greeted our mother. Aren't you glad to see her again?" "Ismenia!" Cearnach said, his voice roughened and filled with a depth of hatred and fury such as Treasa had never heard from him. She looked at the woman seated in a smaller version of the throne chair, which had been placed beside Queran. Something about the beautiful woman seemed vaguely familiar, but Treasa was certain she'd never laid eyes on her before. Cearnach had maintained his silence as he glared at the queen. "Hello, Cearnach," Ismenia said in a cold voice. "As you can see, your day as the King of Cahir has come and gone. Now I will sit on the throne once again with my son beside me." "You witch! You plotted against my father from the first moment you set foot on this island. He whispered to me that you had brought about his death, and I should rid the island 112

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of your presence. I always hoped he was wrong, but I followed his orders. He was our king, and I did as he requested, save for Queran. Foolishly, I kept Queran with me." "Aye, you kept him with you, so you could lord over him that you were the king, not he. Now that will change, and you will spend the rest of your days, which will be few, I assure you, repenting your actions." "Where's Sanaid?" Treasa spoke up, glaring at Queran. "Did you kill her, too, once she'd done your bidding?" Ismenia laughed then, a full throaty sound filled with contempt then abruptly paused and before their eyes, turned into Sanaid. Treasa's eyes widened in dismay, but Sanaid merely continued to laugh. "You simpleton," she smirked. "You never guessed that something wasn't right, did you? Even when my disguise began to slip and I was no longer the docile country girl, you never figured it out." She rose and stood before Treasa. "How I hated you, running to do your bidding when all the time I was the queen and you a mere pawn. Now the tables have turned, and you will pay for your insolence." "Will you beat me with firewood as you did Abby?" Treasa snapped. Sanaid morphed back into Ismenia. "I have something much more deadly for you," she promised. "Take them both and lock them in the tower," Queran ordered.

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Two guardsmen rushed forward. Roughly, the men pushed Treasa toward the narrow circular stairs that led to the tower rooms. "Have a care," Cearnach called. "If she's harmed, you will personally answer for it." The guard hesitated, glancing briefly at Queran then he took Treasa's elbow and carefully guided her up the stairs. She heard Cearnach's voice rumble a threat and she waited for a moment. He stood with his magnificent shoulders thrown back in defiance, his shaggy head raised. He looked every inch a king and she sensed Queran falter, then he imperiously waved Cearnach away. The guard nudged her up the stairs, and she was grateful to hear Cearnach and his guard climbing up behind her. "We have no choice for now, Sire," one of the men said. "The villagers are gathering to fight Queran. We'll release you as quickly as we can." "Good man. I won't forget your loyalty," Cearnach said. They were placed in a room that held only one cot, a stool and a table. The door clanged shut behind them, and the key in the lock grated with finality. "Oh, Cearnach, what are we to do?" Treasa asked, rushing to throw herself against his chest. "For now, we do nothing," Cearnach said. "You heard what the guard said. Our people will assemble and rush the castle. Queran is not well liked by those he wishes to rule. They'll not follow him, or Ismenia, for that matter. In the meantime, I'll get word to our allies and bring this revolt to an end." He 114

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kneaded her back. "Have no fear, Treasa, we'll survive, and I will maintain my kingdom." "I have every faith in you," she whispered and realized her words were true. She trusted Cearnach. They settled themselves on the cot, holding each other and, despite their desperate situation, soon found comfort enough in each other to doze off. When Treasa woke, she sat up too quickly and felt her head spinning. Rising, she staggered to the small, shuttered window and struggled to open it. Her need for air was frightening. Suddenly, Cearnach was there beside her, his large hands making short work of the latch. They stood together, drawing in deep breaths of sea air. His body stiffened, and he let out a curse. "What's wrong?" she asked looking at him. His attention was focused on the sea and a distant shore that appeared. Mouth agape, Treasa stared at the approaching mainland. "What's happening?" she whispered. "We've come home," Cearnach said with such wonder in his voice that she turned to him. His face was ablaze with joy. "We've come home!" he cried again and took hold of her waist, swinging her around. Then he set her feet and rushed back to stare out the window as if the sight might fade. "How did this happen?" Treasa asked, going back to the window to look out at the shoreline. "The enchantment is broken," he whispered. "Surely, that's what has happened. Since first our island moved, we've never returned to our shore. Always, we've been held captive 115

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at some other bay where we weren't welcomed. Indeed, we were feared. May God be kind to us, and let us be anchored here with our people." "Amen," Treasa whispered and took hold of his arm. "Will someone come to rescue us now?" "Yes, my people will rally and come to reclaim our island. I must talk to the guardsmen and see who will help me." He rushed to the door and knocked loudly, but no one came to see what he wanted. He knocked several more times then finally seized the door handle and shook it. With a loud creak, it swung open. Cearnach exchanged glances with Treasa and motioned her to stay back, but as he moved into the hallway, she followed. The hall beyond the tower rooms was empty with not a soul in sight. Carefully, Cearnach made his way down the circular stairs, pausing at each bend to be sure no one waited in ambush. When at last they reached the great hall, they found it empty. Crossing to the fireplace, Cearnach took down the armor and weapons mounted above—a claymore, shield and spear. As he fastened his armor in place, he glanced at her. "I suppose if I tell you to wait here, you won't obey me?" "Nay, Sire," she answered and crossed to take down a sword. Swishing it through the air, she grinned at him. "I never obeyed my father, only my mother. I was a most bothersome child, and I never behaved like a lady. I learned to fight with a sword and can easily hold my own."

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"I see I will have my work cut out for me," Cearnach said, placing a hard kiss on her lips. "And I fear for what our children will be." "They will be strong and brave like their father," she answered. "And loving and true like me." "Then I'll have all I could desire," he said, kissing her again before taking hold of her hand and leading the way out of the castle. They soon discovered where Queran and Ismenia had gone. The castle guards were ringed around the parapet, and both Queran and his mother stood shouting instructions at them. From below came the sounds of fighting. "If you never listen to me again, I beg you obey me now. I must defeat Queran and take command of the parapet. Otherwise, I will have my people killing each other." "Go," Treasa waved him away. "And I will follow," she added when he was out of hearing. Fleet and agile, she leaped up the stairs behind him. Pausing, she watched as he roared a warning to Queran who turned and charged, his claymore held in both hands. Cearnach met his charge head on, swinging his mighty sword with all his strength. Treasa saw the shock in Queran's eyes as they made contact. His arm wobbled, but he managed to hold Cearnach at bay and take a new defensive position. The two men fought with barely contained fury and although Cearnach was the stronger and better warrior, Queran was devious and used his mental powers to avoid being beheaded. 117

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Seeing her son wavering, Ismenia moved forward stealthily, wielding a lighter weight, but no less deadly, sword such as Treasa carried. Seeing that Ismenia planned to attack Cearnach from behind, Treasa leaped out and blocked the queen's path. Anger passed over Ismenia's face, and she slashed out. Treasa parried and knocked aside her blade. Ismenia charged again, her face twisted in rage, her eyes snapping with malevolent lights. Once again, Treasa blocked her blade and pushed hard against the other woman. Ismenia staggered backward, barely remaining upright as she fell against the stone wall. Narrowing her eyes, she raised her hand and pointed a finger at Treasa. Sparks flew about Treasa, but none of them touched her. Ismenia's face registered shock, and she raised her hand again. In that instant, Treasa glanced at Cearnach who had Queran pinned against the parapet, his blade at Queran's throat. Ismenia saw it, too, for she aimed her finger at Cearnach, and once again sparks and smoke rose around her, the smell of brimstone and hell fire filling the air. Without thinking, Treasa leaped forward, placing herself between Cearnach and Ismenia's destruction. She felt herself caught up in a vortex of fire and lightning but was surprised to find herself unscathed as the forces dissipated. Ismenia's shriek filled the air, and she seemed to summon all the energy within her and directed it toward Treasa, who steeled herself, certain that this time she would die. A loud explosion filled the air and when Treasa looked, Ismenia was sheathed in flames. Her screams of pain could be heard all 118

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along the parapet and onto the battlefield below. Howling, she slowly shrank and fell onto the stone ledge. "Mother!" Queran yelled and ran to her, but it was too late to help her. Ismenia had quickly become a blaze of rags and ashes. Queran stood as if frozen then slowly raised his gaze to Cearnach. "You've killed her!" he said. "She killed herself with her own evil magic," Cearnach said. "You'll pay for this," Queran cried and, grabbing up the blade his mother had wielded, charged toward Cearnach. Treasa shouted a warning, but Cearnach held his ground until the last possible moment then stepped to one side. Unprepared, Queran plunged over the wall of the parapet and, with a terrible cry, fell to his death. At once, the men along the wall laid down their weapons and bowed before Cearnach while the men below looked around as if bewildered at where they found themselves. "Forgive us, Sire. We had no wish to fight against you," one of the men on the parapet said. "We don't know why we did Queran's bidding." "I understand," Cearnach said and held out his arms so all the men above and below could see him. "We have been cast under a spell," he cried, "but now it has ended. We are home again, and our kingdom will return to its previous prosperity and loyalty." His words were met by cheers. 119

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"Let us return to the mainland and greet the families we were forced to leave behind," he called and once again, his men cheered and rushed toward the quay. On the distant shoreline, Treasa could see throngs of people along the banks, waving and shouting. A sense of joy encompassed them all. Cearnach turned to Treasa and took hold of her hand. "This time, I bid you follow me," he instructed. "I will take you ashore and show my people what a fine queen they will have." "I do as my king orders," she answered but laughter bubbled beneath her meek facade. When they reached the shore, Treasa was startled to see her father and his army had arrived. He rode forward to greet her, dismounting to take her in his arms and hug her against his broad body. "My child," he said. "Thank God you are alive." "Aye, father, I am well. I'm sorry you have worried." "Why did you not notify me sooner? Your mother has been beside herself with worry. In fact, she has followed my army and is but a few miles away." "It's a long story," Treasa said, "and will take some telling. First, I would have you meet King Cearnach of Ballyshand and Cahir." Cearnach stepped forward and bowed before her father. When the proper greeting had been made, Cearnach drew Treasa closer.

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"I ask for your daughter's hand in marriage," he said in such a firm tone, it was clear to all who heard that he would brook no answer save an acceptance. At her father's nod, Cearnach lifted Treasa back on her pony and remounted. "Attention to all my subjects. I introduce you to my soonto-be wife, your future queen." Everyone cheered. Cearnach led her through the village and to Ballyshand Castle, which was even grander than Cahir. Her mother's entourage, along with her sister, Brynna, and Prince Ailin, soon arrived and accommodations were made for them within Ballyshand Castle. When they first arrived, Treasa rushed out to greet them, throwing her arms around them both with abandon. Prince Ailin stood behind, smiling. In her exuberance, Treasa threw her arms around him as well. "My dear brother-to-be, welcome." She turned back to Brynna and took both her hands. "I am happy to see you again, sister. I am truly sorry for the rancor of our last meeting." Brynna seemed quite taken aback by Treasa's apology. "As am I," she replied. "I had no real wish to harm you." She glanced away and Treasa knew the words were not sincere. Still, this was their chance to start anew with more love and maturity than they'd shown thus far. "Nor I, you," she said and, linking her elbow with her mother and sister, she ushered them inside the castle. The rest of the day passed in a haze of settling her guests and seeing to the final details of her wedding. 121

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"Would you like to have a double wedding?" Treasa asked Brynna who hesitated. "I think I should wait so Ailin's family can attend," she answered diplomatically. She smiled sweetly and for a moment, Treasa caught a glimpse of the old Brynna who loved to flaunt Ailin before her younger sister. Then Cearnach came to join them, and Treasa saw Brynna's reaction to such a handsome man and a king at that. He was at his charming best, virile and regal. Her mother and father were enamored of him. Brynna's lower lip pouted. Great feasts were being prepared for Cearnach and Treasa's wedding which was to take place immediately. During the long walk down the aisle of the chapel, Treasa's gaze was pinned to Cearnach. Before she reached the altar, he walked up to meet her and take her hand. His eyes were bright and filled with love as they said their vows. Then they were joined as man and wife. She was crowned queen next, and later, as she sat beside Cearnach at the feast table, she thought of how important her role would be now. She must put away her old impulsive ways and gain wisdom and grace such as her mother possessed. She would, oh, she would, she vowed silently. Treasa had never known such happiness, and from the smile on his face and the way he gripped her hand, she was certain that Cearnach felt the same way. There was much gaiety and laughter at the wedding, so much that Treasa could barely drag herself up the stairs. The revelers would celebrate far into the night but for once, Treasa was grateful for the rituals of a royal wedding. Her 122

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mother, sister, and attendants were present to help her prepare for the night ahead. "Daughter, I have told you nothing of what must transpire between a man and woman," her mother began as she helped remove the wedding gown and brought forth a nightdress of gossamer silk. Treasa smiled. "It is no matter. Cearnach has taught me well." Queen Dierdre blushed and turned away. Brynna stared at her sister with a flash of spite showing in her eyes. "He will grow tired of you," she said. "All men do." "Has Prince Ailin grown tired of you already?" Treasa asked more gently than she would have in the past. "Of course not. I've kept my virginity for our wedding night." Something in Brynna's eyes touched Treasa. "And his eye roams?" Crossing to her sister, she hugged her. "When he has you in his bed, he will see no other woman but you," she reassured her sister. "Do you think so?" Brynna asked hopefully. "Aye, I think so. Oh, I do want you to be as happy as I am." For a long moment, Brynna regarded her younger sister then she laughed softly. "Cearnach will always love you," she said suddenly. "I pray he will," Treasa said. Important men of the court, relatives and attendants gathered in the chamber as the king came to claim his bride. Ribald shouts of good wishes and whispered prayers for the 123

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making of a healthy male heir lingered in the room, long after the entourage departed. Cearnach wrapped his arms around her and lay with his jaw pressed against her brow. "I have never before known such a day as this," he said softly. "Nor I, Sire," she murmured. "I've never been so happy." His arms tightened around her, but soon, one large hand slid down her back and cupped her buttocks. "Sire, I must protest," she replied. "I am wed to the king." "Aye, and the king desires you with his body and soul." "Then what am I to say?" she whispered. "I must do as my sovereign wishes." "Aye, and remember that, lass, if you want to make me happy." "Oh, I do," she said and opened herself to him. His kisses were hot and insistent. He trailed a line of fire from her mouth to her breasts and suckled greedily. "Someday soon, my son will suckle here," he told her then continued his downward path until he'd reached her crotch. He nudged her knees apart and she readily complied, opening herself to his touch. His tongue rasped along her slit, and she felt a jolt of sensations. When she was wet and ready for him, Cearnach rose above her and positioned his hard cock at the opening to her channel and thrust forward, plowing through the silken flesh until he could go no farther. He withdrew and pushed again, touching deep inside her, until she whimpered and arched her back. His rhythm increased, and he moved against her until she was writhing with need for a final release. When it came, she was swept 124

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over a great ledge and drifted in a sea of fulfillment with Cearnach beside her. **** [Back to Table of Contents]

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About the Author **** Temple Hogan is the author of over twenty print books, historical, contemporary and mysteries written under the name of Peggy Hanchar. She has six e-books out at the moment with more to come. Temple lives on a lake in Michigan with her husband, three cats and Gizz, a precocious Shih Tzu. She belongs to the Grand Rapids Region Writer Group. Temple loves to talk to her readers and can be found at TempleHogan.blogspot.com. **** [Back to Table of Contents]

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Also Available from Resplendence Publishing **** Taming the Princess by Temple Hogan From the Sea Series, Book Two Exasperated by his spoiled, arrogant daughter, Gillian, and her refusal to pick a husband from all the noblemen who plead for her hand, King Darragh decrees she must marry the very next man who comes to the castle. Princess Gillian finds herself married to Padruig Tierran, a lowly fisherman from a distant land. After a hasty marriage, she is whisked away to his fisherman's croft, where she must learn to cook and clean, none of which she's successful at. But Padruig has many lessons to teach his new wife and Gillian proves to be an avid pupil. **** The Virgin Pirate by Temple Hogan Book One in the Pirate's Booty Series Born to a life of piracy, Nellie Bouchard knows no other life, but she longs to find a world beyond the ruthless violence and danger. Her wish is fulfilled when she captures Lord Trey Carlyle. Mesmerized by his masculinity and raw sexuality, she insists he teach her the secrets between a man and woman. Long tropical nights and sun-drenched days aboard her ship allow him to show her every aspect of sexual encounters while she teaches him about love. But he's her captive and 127

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she's a pirate with a price on her head. Their future might mean separation...or death. Glass Slipper by Abigail Barnette Naughtily Ever After, Book One When Julien Auvrey promises to help his goddaughter snag a prince, he has no idea that the squalling infant he held in his arms nineteen years ago has turned into a beautiful young woman. Once he sees Josephine, he knows that she's just what the prince wants in a woman...and just the type of woman that Julien wants in his bed. But Julien is a life-long bachelor, and Josephine deserves more than just a brief affair. With his help, she'll blossom into a wife fit for the prince—in and out of the bedchamber. Josephine Thevenet wants nothing more than to be quit of her father's crumbling house, her stepmother's temper, and her two obnoxious stepsisters. Notorious seducer Julien Auvrey appeals to her desire for escape, and plenty of her other desires, as well. When etiquette lessons turn to carnal instruction, Josephine fears she will lose her heart before she can win the prince. Julien can't deny the raw heat between him and Josephine, but he also can't deny the promise he made to her father. To possess Josephine, Julien must betray his friend, and give up his own life of indulgence. Can he truly ask Josephine to turn her back on the chance to be princess for nights of endless pleasure? Can he trust himself to love her as she deserves? **** Tutoring Miss Molly by Lyn Armstrong 128

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Desperate to help her sick aunt through another brutal winter on their meager farm, Molly Cambridge will do anything to survive. Even if it means becoming a courtesan at the scandalous Harmon Manor. To catch the eye of a wealthy benefactor, she must learn the art of carnal pleasure from a resentful Marquess. Yet her traitorous heart cannot resist the handsome tutor that harbors secrets that may destroy them both. With attempts on her life and time running short, love is a luxury a courtesan can ill afford. Bored with the spoiled, decadent lifestyle of the infamous sex society, Lord Devlin Harman has little time for courtesans and their cunning wiles. Blackmailed into tutoring an inexperienced courtesan, he is determined to show the farm girl the error of her ways. However, a unique beauty exists beneath the mud-stained rags, causing his jaded heart to melt and his flesh to burn for her touch. If she does not become the chosen courtesan at the mistress auction, he must marry a devious aristocrat by spring. Can he let Molly be a courtesan to gain freedom from his marriage contract? Or will he sacrifice everything for a farm girl? **** Infernal Devices by Abigail Barnette The Two Aces. Victorian London's most salacious secret, the club is a place where erotic fantasies are played out among clockwork automatons and aether powered machines. Where nothing is off limits and the pleasures are as wicked as the imagination will allow... 129

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Permilia Deering goes to The Two Aces looking for the sexual excitement that she knows she will not find with the man to whom she is affianced, notorious cold-fish Wallace Sterling. On her first visit to the club, she meets the Ace of Spades, a masked stranger who drives her to heights of passion she's never dreamed possible—and makes her seriously reconsider becoming a mannerly society wife. When Wallace Sterling first glimpses his fiancee standing outside The Two Aces, he assumes she's uncovered his secret identity—the Ace of Spades. But Permilia has no idea that her intended is living a double life, and Wallace worries that he'll be out of the picture once she gets a taste of what the Ace of Spades can offer her... **** Chasing Temptation by Regina Carlysle London's Haute Ton calls her Miss Temptation. But Elizabeth Grayson can't be bothered by society's diversions while seeking justice for her murdered sister. She is a woman on a dangerous mission. Now is not the time for mindless social engagements or courtships from men she has no intention of marrying. However, Christian Delaford is no ordinary man. He stirs her like no one she has ever met before. His eyes speak of sin and tangled sheets. Of decadent nights spent in his arms. Far too diverting for her peace of mind. Christian Delaford, the Duke of Haverton, must be married by midnight of his birthday or forfeit his heritage to a distant relation. After years of living a hedonistic life in the Orient, 130

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the thought of binding himself forever to an insipid English Miss fairly curls his toes. London's current 'diamond of the first water', however, changes his mind. In Elizabeth, he finds a bold and daring woman who harbors a terrifying secret. He vows to chase Miss Temptation, to the ends of the earth if needs be, and save her from the forces that would tear them both apart. **** Unmasked by Genella deGrey Venice, Italy, 1795—Gwendolyn Rawleigh longs for adventure, but has fallen into a clandestine, carnal game of instruction with an intimidating stranger who insists she must embrace this new found tuition before she can proceed. Marcello Verdante finds the alluring Miss Rawleigh irresistible. However, he must remain anonymous for her safety as well as his own. Ellie Appelton wants so badly to emulate Gwennie's sophistication, but is afraid of where her own wicked thoughts may take her. She finds her liberation in a close, intimate friend . . . her impromptu Chaperone. Never in his wildest dreams did Preston Rawleigh think to find himself attracted to his sister's innocent best friend . . . Then again, the magical wonderland of Venice can reveal secret truths even a masked reveler cannot hide. Come spend a few days exploring the sensual mysteries of Carnivale— Some will be pursued, most will be caught, and all will be Unmasked. 131

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**** [Back to Table of Contents]

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Resplendence Publishing www.ResplendencePublishing.com

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