CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Their laughter broke the last of Cuchulainn’s uncomfortable silences. This time when Brighid swung into her traveling pace he kept his mount beside her.

“You should do that more often,” he said.

“Do what? Offend and shock small groups of people?”

He grinned. “I meant laugh. You don’t laugh enough.”

“I think I’ve laughed more since I came to MacCallan Castle than I have since I was a child.” She smiled at him. “Did you know that your laughter was one of the things I missed most about you when your soul was shattered?”

“It was a dark time for me,” he said. “I don’t think I realized how dark until I was whole again.”

She studied his strong profile, not wanting to remember how close he had been to ending his life. The thought upset her then-now it sickened her.

“You surprised me back there,” she said, needing to change the subject.

“Did I?” His grin was back. “Surprised that I announced that you’re a Dhianna centaur?”

“No, not really. Just yesterday you vowed to cherish my name as if it were your own. You’re not a man who would take such vows lightly.”

“Right you are, my beautiful Huntress.”

Her lips tilted up at the familiar endearment. “I was surprised that you announced our marriage.”

“Did you think it was something I would hide?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but hearing you say it was…well…nice,” she said. “I wanted you to know that.”

“I’m proud that you are my wife, Brighid. Things have happened so quickly, I don’t think I’ve done this properly.”

“This?” She arched a questioning brow.

“This wooing of you-courting you.” His voice deepened and his turquoise eyes met hers. “This ritual of lovemaking.”

“Oh.” The way he was looking at her reminded her of her erotic dream. She pushed down the nervous flutter that threatened to mix up her words. By the Goddess, he was so damned handsome! “You were doing fine last night.”

She saw his jaw tighten, but he didn’t turn away. “I should have talked to you when I came back to camp. The truth is you hurt my pride, and I didn’t handle it well.”

“The truth is,” she said quickly, “that I shocked myself and I didn’t handle it well.”

“Shocked yourself?”

“I forgot you’re not a centaur.”

“You forgot?” He tried unsuccessfully not to smile.

“So you can imagine that it was a shock for me to feel your…”

“Butt?” he provided.

“Exactly,” she said.

“Harrumph.” He studied her, obviously trying to decide what to say and what not to say. “Then you were just surprised. You weren’t disappointed and-”

“If you ask me again if I’m repulsed by you I’m going to use part of this centaur body you seem to be so fond of and kick you squarely in your very manly butt.”

“That would be hard to do while I’m sitting on this saddle.”

“One of the first virtues a Huntress learns is patience.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“I should have kissed you back there while the entire inn was watching,” he said, grinning at her.

“Yes,” she said, flipping her silver-blond hair over her shoulder. “You should have.”

When they came to the creek, twilight was shading the roadside vineyards with the colors of evening.

“The horses are done in-it’s almost dark. I think we’ve pushed enough for today,” Cuchulainn said.

Brighid nodded and eased her ground-eating canter to a trot and finally, with a sigh, she slowed to a walk. Even the echo of her hooves crossing the small, arched bridge sounded tired. She noticed the two horses pricked their ears at the moving water.

“Might as well camp down there.” She gestured to the bank of the creek. It was flat and lined with delicate weeping willows and the emerald green of water-loving grass.

“Anywhere that’s not moving looks good to me right now,” Cu said.

Brighid noted the shadows under his eyes and the two-day-old beard. The warrior definitely looked tired. “If you get the firewood and take care of the horses, I’ll get out the pork and the wine.”

“You have a deal,” he said.

Brighid thought about how well they worked together as she unloaded the saddlebags and got out the cooking implements. Since the tension between them had broken, the day had been a pleasure. Yes, they had been traveling at a difficult pace, but he had been beside her, talking and laughing, and then, later, as evening had fallen and they’d been too tired to speak he’d just been there, beside her. He was a good companion-a good man-and in spite of their obvious differences, they fit well together.

Cuchulainn dumped a load of broken branches in the middle of the ring of rocks she’d gathered to mark their campfire. “I’m taking the horses to the creek.” He sniffed at himself, making her smile. “And I do believe I’ll take myself to the creek, too.”

“Good idea. You smell like a horse.”

His laughter drifted back to her on the warm night breeze. It was different between them tonight. Easier. They’d soldered their bond.

When he led the horses back from the creek she glanced up from the frying slices of pork to smile at him, and her stomach tensed. His hair was wet. He’d put on a fresh linen shirt. A new kilt was wrapped haphazardly around his waist. And his face was clean shaven. He grinned and rubbed his chin.

“Rumor has it you prefer your men clean-shaven.”

“There is only one man I prefer,” she said, holding his gaze. “And I like him exactly as he is-shaven or un.” She tossed him the wineskin. “It’s my turn in the creek.”

He watched her move out of the firelight and into the gentle glow of an early moon, thinking she must be the most graceful creature in all of Partholon. He was supposed to be minding the pork, but he could see her as she took off her vest and entered the creek. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. She found the same spot in which he’d bathed, an area that had been beaver-dammed into a nice-size pool. The water was up to her withers. He watched as she turned to face him. In the silver moonlight she looked like a lake goddess-part human, part divine. She made his body feel hot and heavy, and his soul feel incredibly light.

She belonged to him, and he to her. And anyone who didn’t like it could just be damned.

They spoke very little as they ate, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. They sat close to each other, so that when they passed the wineskin back and forth it was easy for their bodies to brush against one another. No words were needed for what was happening between them-only looks and touches.

When they were finished eating, instead of reclining beside her against his saddle as he had the night before, Cuchulainn went to one of his saddlebags. Curious, she saw the firelight catch on whatever he held in his hand. But he didn’t return to her right away. Instead he bowed his head and she noted the tension in his shoulders. Then he drew a deep breath, and took his place beside her.

“I have something for you. I meant to give it to you last night, but…” He moved his shoulders. “Last night…”

“Last night didn’t end as it should have,” she said. “Tonight will be different.”

“Tonight you should have this.” He held up the silver necklace and let the turquoise stone dangle.

“It’s Brenna’s stone,” she gasped, cupping the blue-green rock in her hand.

“It’s your stone now. She gave it to you. I think she would want you to wear it.” He placed it over her head so that the stone hung between her breasts. “I’ve not felt her presence since the day she was killed, but I want to believe that she would approve of us.”

Brighid closed her eyes, trying to sift through the rush of her mixed emotions. “She came to me, Cu.”

“What!”

“In my dream, like you did when your soul was shattered. We met at MacCallan Castle. She told me that she’d given me the turquoise stone and she also said she wouldn’t be haunting MacCallan Castle.” Brighid opened her eyes and looked through tears at her husband. “She said it wouldn’t be good for any of us if she did.”