Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad) Read Free Page A

coffee.
    A dimple, barely beyond his lips, deepened. She tore her attention from his mouth to gaze into his eyes. A twinkle danced in the dark depths. This was the Gowtham she wished he could be with her help in healing.
    He spoke softly, the words a caress. “Remember when you insisted you were to play Mustardseed?”
    “I was determined, wasn’t I? That was the first time I performed in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. ” She chuckled at the memory. At seven she’d astounded all the adults in the production by knowing every character’s lines perfectly. She couldn’t help if she followed the Zeroun clan’s obsession with the play.
    “Follow the trunk to the roots.”
    Tracing her fingertip down the parchment, she discovered a barely pronounceable name with a notation below it in a gilt edged rectangle. She read silently then gasped. “He was the inspiration for Shakespeare’s Mustardseed?”
    Gowthaman gave a rough chuckle. “You know better than that. He was Mustardseed.”
    “Amazing.” She swept her hand over the wall of family trees. “I see what you mean about families being intertwined. Guess we just can’t get away from each other.”
    Gowthaman stepped back. “There is another addition to the ancestries.”
    “Hmm, I see.” Next to the thin trees recording her family history was another newly labeled tree with few branches. She easily found Gowthaman’s name on a top branch. Smiling to herself, she wondered if he realized he’d drawn their families so close together. And that his branch stretched toward hers. Maybe there was hope for them. “You’ve discovered your ancestors?”
    “Ah, yes. And look...” He leaned over her shoulder making her ache to lean into the heat of the sun he’d brought in with him. Or maybe it was the heat of the man. She squelched the longing and glanced at the tree’s roots.
    “The kidnapped Indian prince?”

Two
    A t one point in his life, Morghan had counted time in human years. His age, the passage of centuries, the brief moments a companion remained with him. Even here he’d begun by keeping account of the years. In the beginning. But his efforts ended when he could no longer determine time.
    In the beginning he had been able to use small puddles to watch the human world and communicate with the place where he’d been pulled through. But the water had dried and an impenetrable haze thickened around the place he had called home.
    Then, in the beginning, he’d raged against fate, and constantly sought out the being who had wrenched him from life. But after a few fruitless battles, the creature had disappeared into the gray landscape, laughing, taunting, always before him, always heard but never seen.
    Then, in the beginning, he’d tried to remember the things he’d read, the spells he’d memorized before his fight with the fire elemental. The mere thought of Brandr Ur and a growl would rise from deep in his chest, a sound of hatred and determination. Then, he’d ached to finish what his spells should have done—completely banish the elemental from all worlds. Then...
    When was then? Morghan shrugged and turned in a circle surveying the gray, mist-shrouded landscape. Rare now were the times he wondered how long he’d been held here. Rarer still, the times he cared.
    A flash of light blinded him. When he stopped blinking and the bright balls of fire disappeared from his vision, the shadowy form of a comely wench swayed before him. The shadows grew colors. Intense, vibrant, unbelievable. He shook his head knowing he should remember this woman, then smiled. She’d come for him. Finally.
    He took a step forward. The uneven gray ground sucked at his feet, holding him back. He struggled to reach for her. Thin clothing fell from her orange skin. The bright yellow waves of her hair flowed down and curled intimately against her body. A brief memory surfaced in his consciousness then fluttered away. Startled by the feeling, he ached for her.
    She moved closer, not