Celtic Shores, Book 2 in the Celtic Steel Series Read online

  CELTIC SHORES

  Book 2 in the

  Celtic Steel Series

  By DELANEY RHODES

  [email protected]

  http://www.DelaneyRhodes.com

  http://www.facebook.com/delaneyrhodes

  http://www.twitter.com/delaney_rhodes

  Celtic Shores

  Celtic Steel Series, Book 2

  Patrick MacCahan just became the new Laird of the O’Malley clan. His new position is met with many obstacles; including a tempestuous new wife, a two-decade long war with a neighboring village, a missing foster child and a pagan witch who overpowers the clan at every turn.

  Parkin MacCahan’s life just got a lot more exciting. His older brother Patrick has married the eldest daughter of the O’Malley clan. His father is building a shipping empire off the coast of Northern Ireland. Parkin must oversee the operations and coordinate efforts between the O’Malleys and the MacCahans.

  In order to dock at O’Malley port, Parkin and his men must sail past the legendary Island of Women. Will Parkin be able to withstand the temptation to trespass the legendary shore? Or will he be invited?

  Kyra O’Connell has resided in O’Malley territory all of her life. As the niece of the late Laird Dallin O’Malley, and daughter of the clan’s chieftan, she has been part of the inner circle for as long as she can remember. When a spy is found among the villagers, Kyra is asked to take up residence on the Island of Women and to infiltrate their ranks as a spy herself.

  Warning: This book contains adult subject matter and adult material not suitable for children. It may contain any or all of the following: explicit sexual contact, graphic language, occult references, and violence and adult subjects.

  Celtic Shores

  Copyright © 2012 by Delaney Rhodes

  DR Publishing

  eBook ISBN: 9780985332600

  Paperback ISBN: 0985332603

  Cover Design by Kim Killion

  Edited by Bev Harrison

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or copied in any manner whatsoever except with written permission.

  WHAT READERS ARE SAYING

  ABOUT THE CELTIC STEEL SERIES

  “Great read couldn’t put it down. Can’t wait for the next book in the series. You rank up there with Diana Gabaldon of the Highlander series.” ~ B. Breen

  “I love the story – I thought it was the right mix of romance, a strong female character, historical setting, and magic/paranormal…” ~ A. Alayna

  “What a FUN new author with a fabulous and well written storyline! I wasn’t sure what to expect, but found myself so pulled into the story that I HAD to finish it before I could move onto my daily “to-do’s”; needless to say I recommend doing any and all chores before starting it. I am very much looking forward to the next … books in the series…!” ~ Karen Memmott

  “I thoroughly enjoyed Celtic Storms and am way past anticipating the second in the series. I have read historical romance for over twenty years and the way the author transformed the genre and included paranormal elements (witchcraft, ESP, druidism, shape-shifting, etc.) was impressive.” ~ S. Sinclaire

  I liked the characters a lot, and they seemed well thought-out. The story flowed fairly well, and even included some surprises I didn’t see coming! The cliff-hanger ending left me ready for the next book!” ~ L. Alexander

  Dedication

  To MawMaw MacManus, who taught me it’s better to lead my dreams than to follow them.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MORE TITLES

  DIALECT DISCLAIMER

  The characters represented in this work of fiction come from a time and place unlike our own. In an attempt to create as realistic as possible an atmosphere for the reader; there will be some direct emphasis on accent, dialect and pronunciation in the dialogue. What you will find are not, in fact, misspellings or instances of bad grammar on the part of the author. Rather, you will discover phonetically enriched wordings—to symbolize the language and methods of communication in the period and geographical areas represented.

  PROLOGUE

  O’Malley Castle — Samhain Celebration

  Fall 1457

  Patrick MacCahan spent the better part of the afternoon meditating in his chambers; contemplating the turn of events that resulted in his relocation to O’Malley territory on the western seaboard of Ireland, and his upcoming nuptials to Darina O’Malley, the now deceased O’Malley Lord’s eldest daughter. It had been a trying few weeks —weeks wrought with peril, storms, bloodshed, kidnapping and deceit.

  The fact that his father sent his brother, Payton, and fifty of his best fighting men from the MacCahan territories in Northern Ireland to attend to the stronghold should have been a blessing in disguise; were it not been for Payton’s antics at the river. Now he must find a way to dissuade Darina’s uncle, Ruarc O’Connell, from unleashing an unholy wrath upon Payton and attempt to find some common ground with the man himself, since Ruarc was the chieftan of the O’Malley militia.

  But first, there was the matter of Lucian, the elderly O’Malley clan scribe and druid priest who held the respect of the people, and most certainly of Ruarc. Patrick knew he sensed something kindred in Lucian from the moment they met. When he realized that Lucian was the brother of his dear friend and mentor, Airard, from his own clan, he knew why.

  Airard trained Patrick in the blacksmithing arts from the time he could wield a sword. However, it was his instruction in mystical matters that was more valuable. Patrick was groomed specifically to take Airard’s mantle as priest for his clan; but that was not to be. He was to be married this night to Darina O’Malley, during the clan’s annual Samhain celebrations. He wasn’t disappointed at becoming the new leader of the O’Malleys, or even with his betrothed. Darina was a fiery dryad of a woman and she was as beautiful as she was cunning. She would prove a worthy match.

  No, Patrick longed for the day when his services as a druid priest would begin. He prepared for it, longed for it and waited for it. As it stood, there was already an invocation ceremony planned for the coming year and Airard was to anoint him to take his place during Beltane celebrations. Who would take Airard’s mantle in MacCahan territory when Airard was too feeble? That thought kept Patrick awake for hours late into the night and the fatigue was showing on his face.

  “Ye asked for me?” spoke Lucian. Patrick was tying his hair off at the nape of his neck while examining his image in the looking glass brought up by Odhran, the castle bailiff. The wedding ceremony would occ
ur in just a matter of hours; and Patrick was busy readying himself in the fifth floor storage room of the Laird’s private banqueting hall.

  I did. I’ve need to speak of Darina with ye.

  No response.

  I ken ye can hear me druid, pressed Patrick with his mind.

  “Well son? What need have ye of me services?” asked Lucian, still standing in the doorway between the banquet room and the storage pantry which adjoined. He clasped his hands in front of him and twiddled the golden rope tied around his white cloak.

  Ye don’t hear me, or ye are pretending ye don’t?

  Silence.

  “I have a qu-que-question about Da-Darina,” he stuttered audibly.

  “About Darina?” replied Lucian.

  “Aye. I d-do,” said Patrick as he turned around to face the O’Malley clan’s elderly scribe. He walked slowly towards him and clasped forearms with Lucian, who was adorned in his full priest attire. A gleam caught Patrick’s eye and he looked down to see that Lucian wore the same shamrock crested ring as he did.

  “Where did ye get that?” asked Lucian hesitantly.

  Get what?

  No response came from Lucian.

  “Well?” Lucian asked again.

  “Me r-ring?” asked Patrick aloud.

  “Aye, yer ring Patrick. Where did ye get that?” demanded Lucian.

  “’Twas given to me by an old fr-friend,” he replied, noticing the matching ring on Lucian’s right hand. It was an intricate piece of artwork indeed. A signet ring of silver with the image of a dragon laid across the background of a shamrock. Two small rubies made the dragon’s eyes and fire thrust from its nostrils.

  “Would this old friend have a name?” inquired Lucian further.

  “Air-Airard. He is the blacksmith of me cl-clan. The MacCahan cl-clan,” he clarified.

  “Ye ken Airard well, do ye?” pried Lucian further.

  “Aye, he is like me s-s-sec-second fathair. He has tr-trained me as a blacksmith for m-ma-any years.”

  What else has he trained ye for Patrick? inquired Lucian with his mind, now standing only inches from Patrick.

  Tell me, demanded Lucian.

  Patrick’s eyes shot up in astonishment and gripped Lucian’s arms harder. They looked at each other for what seemed hours and dropped their arms to their sides.

  Patrick walked back towards the looking glass and straightened the MacCahan plaid about his shoulder, repositioning the brooch holding it together.

  Tell me son.

  I think ye ken verra well, Lucian. Airard is yer brathair, is he no’?

  Aye, he is. You must say it, me son.

  Say what?

  Ye ken, say it.

  Patrick grew uncomfortable with the questioning and fumbled with the ring on his hand, looking down and away from Lucian in what seemed like humiliation or fear — Lucian wasn’t sure.

  Ye are the last, Patrick. Say it.

  Nay—I’ll not say it. I have no evidence ye are correct, Lucian.

  “Ye wear the ring Patrick. There are only three of the Dragon Crest rings, ye know. I have one, Airard has one and ye wear the other. I can only assume it was Airard who conferred it.”

  “Ye are wr-wrong a-b-about that,” spoke Patrick audibly.

  “What do ye mean?” asked Lucian confused. “Ye said it was a gift from an old friend.”

  “It belonged to m-m-my m-ma-mathair,” he replied and turned to sit upon the short three-legged stool in front of Lucian. “‘Twas given to me when she p-passed; my f-fa-fathair insisted. Airard had it repaired and cleaned pr-prior to giving it t-to me. Me brathair, P-Parkin, was given her silver torc; and Payton was given her d-dia-diadem. I was given me mathair’s hair c-comb and this” he said glancing at the ring on his right hand. “I am the only one who d-did-didn’t receive a MacCahan cl-clan crest.”

  Ye sound defeated lad. Mayhap yer mathair knew ye wouldna always be a MacCahan.

  Patrick locked eyes with him again. How could she have known I’d take the O’Malley name?

  Yer mathair wore that ring for a reason son. Do ye no’ ken?

  What do ye mean?

  Ye know what the rings represent, do ye not?

  Aye…I think I do.

  “Patrick, yer mathair was a druid priestess. Not just any priestess, mind ye.”

  “How s-s-ss-so?” he asked standing up to face Lucian.

  Yer ma was one of only three. There are only three Dragonian’s remaining Patrick; myself, me brathair and now you, Patrick. Patrick, ye are one of us.

  And what are ye?

  Patrick, I’ve no doubt Airard has prepared ye. Don’t pretend to misunderstand me. Ye know what I am saying.

  “I’ve nay such idea,” he stated aloud, slowly and audibly. He hadn’t stuttered and for that he was thankful. “I s-sum-summoned ye to speak of D-Darina,” he stated sternly having twisted his ring wrong side with his left hand so that the crest faced his palm. “I’ve a question, and I w-wi-wish to k-kn-know the truth of it.”

  “Aye, Patrick, I always speak the truth. What do ye wish to know?

  “I w-wi-wish to kn-know why she blames her-herself for her-her sister’s d-death.”

  Ye’ve been using yer gift with the lass?

  Patrick nodded affirmatively.

  She won’t like that. She’s a might skeptical.

  Patrick nodded again and grinned.

  “I see ye’ve spoken with her already - in a manner of speaking,” Lucian chuckled and straightened his robe. So you know of the babe’s identity?” he asked.

  Patrick nodded again. Why doesn’t she know? ‘Tis nay fair to keep her in the dark of such things.

  ‘Tis what her da requested. We could only do what our Laird asked. Even his own wife went to her grave not knowing her youngest child remained alive and well in MacCahan castle, and that she had a son and not a deceased daughter.

  ‘Tis no’ right, Lucian. I mean to rectify it immediately. Why does she believe she is responsible for the death of this child who is very much alive?

  Patrick rose and grasped arms with Lucian again, searching his face for the answer, demanding a response.

  “Because, before the child was born, Darina had fallen into the river and was being swept downstream. Anya went in after her and pulled her out. Saved her life, she did.”

  “However?” asked Patrick.

  “However, Anya took a fever from the cold water and was sick in bed for days. She went into early labor. The healer was terrified. We all were. We thought we had lost her.”

  “S-so ye l-let D’rina think it was her f-fault th-that the babe died?”

  “We had nay other choice Patrick…we had to protect the child.”

  Of course ye had a choice. There is always a choice, he rebuked Lucian with his mind as he stepped around him and into the banquet hall.

  ONE

  O’Malley Castle

  Darina stood on the balcony overlooking the bay and watched the sun dance over a wall of waves in the sea. She was ready. The time was near and now all that was left was the wedding ceremony.

  Father MacArtrey was missing…having disappeared, at some point, in the last few days…and he was nowhere to be found. Her cousin Kyra, and Murchadh…one of her uncle Ruarc’s soldiers…were dispatched to find him; but they were not successful. Mayhap he had fallen into the sea during a drunken stupor; or worse… mayhap he had been kidnapped and sold at a slave auction.

  The thought made her giggle out loud. Father MacArtrey would make a horrible servant. He was barely able to stand upright when he was sober, due to his portly shape, let alone when he was full from the drink; which was quite often for a mon of the cloth. The truth was she wanted him here and the fact that he wasn’t made her somewhat uneasy. He had brought her great comfort after the deaths of her mother and father and helped her comfort her four younger sisters.

  Lucian had graciously offered to perform the rites; an offering that well pleased her uncle as well as her sister, Dervilla. As his app
rentice, Dervilla had been learning the trade of the scribe for several years and was quite adept at map-making as well.

  Lucian was well established as the clan’s scribe. His religious leanings were what concerned Darina. As a druid priest, he was known in the region, and highly sought after for service and counsel.

  The trouble was that Darina wasn’t a druid, a pagan or a practicing Christian. Her father had offered Father MacArtrey sanctuary after their rival clan, the Burke’s, had pillaged their own monastery and the priest escaped with his life. Her own mother, Anya O’Malley, was a druid, as was her mother, and her mother’s mother before her. All the women of her family were druids and worshipped the old gods.

  She sighed at the thought of what the joining on Samhain would mean to Lucian and how much irritation her sister Dervilla would cause her because of it. She had never espoused any particular god and wasn’t about to start now. Her faith had waxed and waned between worshipping them all—just to hedge her wagers—and none, because the mere idea seemed ludicrous.

  Are you ready?

  She jumped. The imposing thought snapped her back to her moment in time and sent shivers down her spine. She pulled a long, red tendril of hair out of her eyes and straightened her gown. She was becoming anxious. There were many important matters riding on this alliance being formed by her union with Patrick MacCahan, the eldest son of Breacan MacCahan. Her father apparently arranged the marriage many years before and she was never told until recently, just after his death.

  “Darina, the ladies are waiting to finish yer hair,” called her Aunt Atilde from the threshold leading from the balcony. “Ye are just stunning. Patrick is indeed a blessed mon to marry such a beautiful woman.”

  Darina blushed as she followed her aunt down the hallway towards the stairs to her chamber.

  ***