Storm Maiden Read Free

to
drop away as soon as I cross your threshold?”
    Siobhan laughed softly, a sound like the
wind through the reeds. In many ways, her aunt reminded Fiona of an
older, faded version of her mother. Siobhan was small and
fine-boned, with dusky skin and large gray eyes. Her black hair was
streaked with silver and fine lines creased her narrow face.
    “And what cares do you have that need
easing, my child?” Siobhan responded.
    Fiona sighed again.”I face the same trouble
as when I visited you at the beginning of the sunseason. I despise
the man my father has chosen to be my bridegroom.”
    “Ah, the Mac Cartan chieftain. I remember
your complaining of his foul breath and ill-favored visage. Have
you not yet found something to recommend the man?”
    “Nay. You told me to look beyond his
disgusting appearance, but in doing so, I discovered only his
greedy, grasping temperament and a taste for bestial
pleasures.”
    Siobhan shook her head. “How fortunate I was
to avoid marriage. Of course,” she added, “my circumstances were
much different from yours. I was not a princess. You have my sister
to thank for your royal blood. Many times I warned her that
marriage to a warrior king would be disastrous.”
    Siobhan visibly shook off the mood, and a
warm smile chased away the lines in her countenance. “Of course,
Aisling was happy, for a time at least, and she was blessed with
you.”
    Fiona nodded, feeling an answering ache in
her heart. Her sweet, gentle mother had died two years ago of a
wasting sickness. Even Siobhan, with all her herbs and medicines,
had not been able to save her.
    “Enough of the past,” Siobhan announced
briskly. “How can I aid you? A potion to put your bridegroom to
sleep on his wedding night? Something to shrivel his manhood?” Her
fine features crinkled with mirth.
    “If my plan succeeds,” Fiona said grimly,
“there will be no wedding night.”
    “Tell me.” Siobhan settled opposite Fiona,
her gray eyes bright. “Tell me your plan.”
    “... and if I can heal the Viking and entice
him to fornicate with me, my father will have to call off the
wedding.” Finishing her tale, Fiona sat back and waited for
Siobhan’s response. The older woman frowned, but she had not
dismissed Fiona’s scheme outright. There was hope.
    Siobhan stood up. “How bad is the man’s
wound?”
    “Almost two days now it has been untended,
and he has been without food and water as well.”
    Siobhan shook her head. “Once the poison
starts, it is difficult to stop. The wound must be cleaned, then
stitched. Mayhap if you drugged him, but even then... if he is
fevered and weak already...”
    “You can show me; I know you can,” Fiona
insisted.
    Siobhan abruptly faced her. “And after you
have healed him and coaxed him to deliver you of your
maidenhead—not that I think he will need coaxing, mind you—what
then? You’re father is sure to kill the Viking, after he tortures
him, of course.”
    Fiona blanched. Her aunt had seized upon the
very thing she did not want to be reminded of. “I... I... I don’t
know. Mayhap I could free him before I go to my father.”
    “Free him? A brutish fiend like that? Do you
think he would go meekly on his way, content to return to his
people with never a thought of vengeance against those who captured
him and held him prisoner?” Siobhan made a contemptuous sound.
“Fiona, sometimes you are as much a fool as your mother was.”
    “It may not work, but I must try.” Fiona
looked up, her eyes pleading with Siobhan. “You are a healer, sworn
to aid all who seek out your skill. Do you advise me to turn away
from this man, to leave him to perish in my father’s prison?”
    Siobhan smiled, a quirky, mischievous grin
that made her look like a young girl. “Of course I will aid you.
You do not think I would pass up a chance to thwart the great
Donall Mac Frachnan’s will, do you?”
    Fiona watched her aunt, uneasy with her
mocking words. There had always been bad blood