Irish Moon Read Online Free PDF

reason I cannot fathom , you appear to be attracted
to.”
    “Niall, please,” Ula said and stood, as well.
She stepped between them. “Breanne. This is for the best. And you
said yourself that you agree. Please don’t make me rue the
liberties we’ve allowed you out of a mother’s love.”
    “My apologies, my lord.” Guilt kicked her
heart. “Do forgive my insolence. You have both indeed indulged my
aspirations. Forgive me.” She bowed her head.
    Niall swept a hand through the air. Ula
sat.
    “We will discuss this further tomorrow,”
Niall said, sounding tired. “The dinner hour approaches. You may
leave us, Breanne.”
    Her face was hot with color, but she was
grateful despite the embarrassment of losing her temper. She had no
right to speak to him so disrespectfully and not simply because he
was the local king. Niall O’Donnell had been naught but good to her
and her mother since their arrival eleven years ago.
    Breanne left and part of her was glad that
she couldn’t stay and eavesdrop. She didn’t want to hear what they
said about her outburst, didn’t have to.
    The hot bath waiting for her in her
bedchamber washed away hot tears and the day’s troubles. Finn
wasn’t even there to vent on, still hadn’t returned to the keep. He
was probably roaming the forest for fairy mounds again.
    Plaiting her hair into an intricate braid,
she wove gold baubles in sporadically. Two, potentially three, very
different men were about to become a daily nuisance and she didn’t
have any way out of any of it. She did want to marry. It wasn’t
that. One of them certainly would be suitable if she could settle
herself with their inevitable manly passions.
    And though six weeks time sounded brief, she
knew of courtships that completed in days. Why, hadn’t Rose set
sight on her husband, Ryan, exactly one week before they handfasted
and now had four babies to prove their love, if not lust, for one
another?
    And her husband need not necessarily be
selected from the three. If she actually began looking, she might
find another suitable man among the clansmen and frequent
inter-tribal travelers.
    Were she more daring, the Beltane feast and
fire could become her hunting ground. What a lovely thought. To
walk up, pick a man, and just be done with it. To not bother with
the mess of any of it, the wooing, the choosing, the hurt feelings
and quarrels, until the last minute. Breanne smiled at herself in
the mirror and covered a giggle. The idea was ridiculous.
    Ready for dinner, she stood and braced
herself. She honed in on the single thought that would lift her
spirits and help ease facing four long tables filled with knowing
faces. In six short hours, she’d be deep in the woods, and might
glimpse some magick.
    * * * *
    Hunger woke Ashlon. He opened his eyes and
adjusted to the dimly lit area he was in. Carefully, he sat up,
making the table he lay on creak loudly. He looked around, trying
to remember where he was and how he got there. But nothing came.
The last distinct memory he had was of falling asleep in a cave
with his arms around Jacque’s treasure.
    Abruptly, Ashlon looked about the small room.
He rolled from the table, careless of the small wool covering
dropping to the floor. He located his mantle, his sword, and his
shoes. But, nowhere did he see the chest.
    A man’s voice sounded outside the stone
walled room. Ashlon stopped. He listened to… singing? It drew
closer. Ashlon promptly palmed his sword and took battle
stance.
    Brittle notes of song carried nearer, a
language foreign and beautiful to Ashlon’s ears. The door knocked
about and the song changed to cursing and finally the man kicked
the wood open and froze in place.
    “What are you about now, lad?”
    Ashlon lifted the sword a degree, the
friendliness of the stranger adding to his defensiveness. “Who are
you? What have you done with my possessions?” he demanded in
English.
    “There now, lad. You’ll ruin my
ministrations.” The man directed his