Faerie Fate Read Free Page A

Tiptoeing
across the room, she cracked open the door. “Yee can come in, but if yee
disturb the wee one’s sleep, I’ll box yer ears,” she hissed.
    Niall grimaced at
her impertinence, but Ciaran ignored her, shoving through the door before the
other man moved. Ciaran strode across the room and halted beside his bed,
staring at the strange woman. As he reached for the coverlet, she tried to stop
him. Niall grabbed her around the waist to keep her from interfering and held
her tightly against his side. Ciaran ripped the coverlet back. His face
registered shock and she watched him swallow slowly.
    “Someone wanted to
kill her.” He growled the words, his revulsion at the brutality of the attack
plain on his face.
    Siobhan watched him,
the play of emotions a stark reminder of his role as clann chief, but he was
also a man. His body’s reaction to the girl’s predicament surprised her only
slightly.
    “She fought him.”
Her blunt statement startled both men.
    “Say again, woman?”
Niall demanded.
    “She fought him,”
she repeated louder. “Look at her hands. She clawed and hit, and very probably
bit as well. Find the man with her marks all over him, and you’ll find your
culprit.”
    Niall started to
speak but had to clear his throat to get the words out. “Was she forced?”
    Siobhan shook her
head, not surprised the men would want to know. “Not that I can tell. She had
neither blood nor seed spilling from there.” She pushed past them and pulled
the covers up to the woman’s chin, clucking under her breath the whole time.
The McDermot was handsome enough to turn the heads of every woman between the
ages of six and the grave. As his full lips quirked in a grin fit for Abhean,
the faerie piper himself, she wondered why Ciaran had never taken anyone to his
bed.
    “All right, mother
hen,” Ciaran chuckled. “I’ll not be beddin’ her ’til she’s healed.”
    Not at all
intimidated by the man who held the power of life or death over them all,
Siobhan faced him down, a bit amused he’d lost his embarrassment so quickly.
With her hands firmly planted on her hips, she scolded him. “You’ll not be
beddin’ her a’tall, Taoiseac , not ’til she’s wishin’ yee to.”
    Niall gulped and
stepped between her and Ciaran. He loved her and she knew he would die to
protect her. His hand on her arm squeezed, a warning to keep her sassy tongue
to herself. He relaxed his grip when Ciaran guffawed.
    “Oh, aye,” Ciaran
chuckled, his grin smug and self-confident. “She’ll be wishin’ it right
enough.” He leered at her as he grabbed his groin and adjusted his boidín to a more comfortable position.
    She snorted, her
disdain evident in the inelegant sound. “Away with yee both,” she snapped. “Let
the cailín sleep. ’Tis the only thing will help her now.” She shooed the men
out of the room and shut the door behind.
    Out in the hallway,
Niall and Ciaran exchanged glances. That the cailín had marked her attackers
cleared the two men cowering under guard in the great hall. Ragged and dirty,
they probably would have ill-used her before finishing her off, but they
carried no scratches or bruises upon their faces or arms to prove they’d
started this strange affair.
    While Niall dealt
with the two peasants, Ciaran retreated to his den beneath the stairs. He poked
the smoldering fire to life and settled heavily into one of the comfortable
chairs in front of the fireplace. He prodded at the puzzle of the girl much
like he’d done to stir up the fire. Heat pooled low in his groin. Her nakedness
aroused more than compassion or pity. Despite her tortured and abused body, the
sight of her lying naked in his bed made him rock hard. No cailín ever affected
him this way. That her battered body had the power to do so completely
terrified him. A man of honor and virtue, he’d sworn to protect his people.
Lust, and visions of the things he wanted to do to her and with her, churned
his gut. Had he gone mad?
    Niall