Brenna told herself sternly that it was perfectly natural that she would want to check on her unusual new patient so early. It didn't matter that the gray of predawn was just beginning to lighten, and that the night's mist still hung across the castle ground like a slate-colored curtain. The wolf cub was young and had been through a terrible ordeal. Actually, she should not have left the small creature alone with Cuchulainn.
What did the warrior know about caring for something so fragile? That was why her sleep had been so troubled. She was worried about the cub. It was not because Cuchulainn haunted her mind.
His tent was silent, but she could see the flickering shadows thrown against the canvas sides by a lighted candle.
"Cuchulainn?" Brenna hesitated, her hand on the tent flap.
No answer.
"Hello? Cuchulainn?" she said a little louder and thought she heard a muffled sound in response. She pushed aside the flap and ducked into the tent.
Brenna wrinkled her noise. The lumpy form on the narrow bed moved, drawing Brenna's eyes.
Cuchulainn lay on his back, sleeping soundly with a blanket thrown haphazardly across his lower body.
His tunic gaped, so that the candlelight caught the deep auburn hair that gleamed on his chest. The sight of it intrigued Brenna, which she knew was ridiculous. She'd seen men's bare chests before - many times. Of course none of those men had been Cuchulainn, and not one of them had ever looked at her like he had, blatantly proclaiming that it was the scarred Healer he was interested in, and not the beautiful, willing cook. Brenna's stomach fluttered at the memory. Then a movement caught her eye. The cub made a mewing, puppyish noise. It was wrapped around the warrior's neck like a filthy scarf. One of Cuchulainn's hands dangled from the side of the bed, the other rested on the cub's body.
Brenna tried not to smile at the sight, and failed miserably.
She tiptoed over to the table, frowning at the mess.
Cheesecloth lay in scattered, milky heaps. She picked up a linen rag and sniffed it suspiciously, grimacing at its urine-soaked odor. She'd have to come back later with a scrub bucket. How could one man and one small wolf make such a mess? Brenna planted her hands on her hips, shook her head, and wondered if all the milk was gone because he'd gotten it inside the cub, or because he'd spilled it all over the tent.
She glanced at his sleeping form. All over the tent and himself, she amended silently.
The cub stirred and Brenna sighed. She'd fetch more milk from the kitchen - and have a fresh pitcher of water brought to the tent with clean linens. The cub was bound to wake her surrogate parent soon, and, since she was obviously still very much alive, she would be hungry. Brenna smiled. The surrogate would, no doubt, be hungry, too. She gathered some of the filthy rags. Bringing him something to eat would be no different than bringing the cub milk. She was simply looking after her responsibilities as the clan's Healer. It was only logical that the health of her Chieftain's brother should be important to her. As if they had a will of their own, her eyes slid to the bed.
He was awake and watching her with a boyish half smile.
"Good morning," he whispered.
She wiped her hands nervously on her apron and marched purposefully to him, ignoring his sleepy state of tousled undress, ignoring the unique turquoise color of his eyes, ignoring how his smile made her feel dizzy and off balance.
"Good. Now that you're awake I can examine the cub and - "
Catching hold of her wrist he stopped her words.
"Let Fand sleep," he said softly.
Brenna lowered her voice to match his. "You named her Fand?" As if answering for him, the cub nosed Cu's neck and grunted before settling back into sleep.
"Yes, she was, after all, my legendary namesake's fairy wife." His eyes sparkled. "After the intimate night she and I just spent together, I thought it appropriate."
Brenna had to smile at him. His fingers slipped down her wrist so that he was holding her hand.
"I was dreaming about you," Cuchulainn said.
"Stop - -"
He kept talking as if she hadn't tried to speak.
"We were old. Your hair was all white and I was stooped and lame." He grinned. "You will age better than I. But it is of little matter. We were surrounded by our children and our children's children. And playing in and amongst them all were dozens of wolf cubs." He stifled his laughter when Fand growled.
"Fand is a jealous girl," he whispered, and winked at Brenna.
"Cuchulainn, please stop playing - "
This time when he interrupted her, his eyes flashed and all teasing humor had fled his expressive face.
"Do not say that I am playing games with you!"
He dropped her hand and gently scooped the sleeping cub from his chest, nesting her in the pillow that was still warm from his body. When he stood, he reclaimed Brenna's hand and pulled her out of the tent.
The misty morning was dark and quiet, and Cuchulainn pitched his voice low, so that he would not wake those workers who still slept in the surrounding tents.
"What have I done to lead you to believe that I am the kind of man who has so little honor that he would use a maiden as a plaything?"
"Th-the other night. The dancing..." she stuttered.
"I apologized for that," he said through teeth clenched in frustration. "My behavior was stupid and insensitive, but it was not my typical behavior. I am a warrior whose reputation is known throughout Partholon. When has it been said that I am without honor?"
"It hasn't," she said quickly. "Your honor has never been in question."
"Hasn't it?" he exploded. Cuchulainn flung his hands up. "You say I'm playing with your feelings, using you, pretending to want you. How is that not questioning my honor?" With an effort he brought his voice under control. "I don't mean to shout at you. I don't want to drive you away from me. By the Goddess!
Where you're concerned I seem to have lost the ability for rational conversation or thought." He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, effectively anchoring her in front of him.
"Brenna, I would like to court you. Officially. If you tell me how to contact your father, I will formally ask his permission to do so."
"My father is dead," Brenna said through numbed lips.
Cuchulainn's face softened. "Your mother then. I will ask her."
"She is dead, too. I have no family."
Cuchulainn bowed his head as a tide of feeling engulfed him. What terrible pain must fill her past. No more, he promised himself. He would never let anything hurt her again. When he raised his head, his eyes were bright with the depth of his emotions.
"Then your family is our Clan. The MacCallan and I have already discussed my intentions, and, though I don't believe she thinks I deserve you, I am sure she will grant me permission to court you."
"Elphame knows? You talked about me with her?"
"Of course. She's my sister."
"No! This can't be - this isn't possible." Brenna blinked rapidly, like she was having trouble focusing.
Cuchulainn could feel her body trembling under his hands, and suddenly he had a terrible, sick feeling in his gut. What if her reluctance wasn't about her scars or her shyness? What if she really didn't want him?
"Brenna, I would not force my love on you, not if you do not desire me in return. If you do not desire me, all you need do is to tell me, and I give you my word that though it will pain me, I will leave you in peace."
She stared at him. "Love? Look at me, Cuchulainn! I'm damaged. And it doesn't end at my face." She passed her hand from her scarred neck, over her breast, and down to her waist, clearly showing him the wide path of her scars.
Moving carefully, he lifted one hand from her shoulder. With a featherlike caress, he traced the path her hand had just traveled. Slowly, he touched the puckered scars that covered the right side of her face.
When she made no move to stop him, he let his fingertips move over her neck, softly skim the material that covered her breast, and, finally, come to rest on the curve of her hip.
"How could you believe that you are undesirable? When I look at you I see the first woman to ever befriend my sister. I see the Healer, who has the heart of a warrior. And I see the delicate beauty of the maiden who fills my waking thoughts with desire for her, and my dreams with visions of our future."
"Cuchulainn, there has been so much loss in my life. I don't know if I can risk any more."
"That's all it is?" Relief flooded Cuchulainn. "It's not that you don't want me?"
"I want you."
Her voice was not that of a shy maiden. Once more, she was the Healer. Her words were strong and sure. Cu smiled and started to pull her into his arms, but her command stopped him short.
"No, I'm not finished. I admit that I want you, but I don't know if I'm willing to let you into my heart. If I do, and then lose you, I fear it would leave a wound from which I might never recover."
His mind raced around in panic. What could he say? What could he do to reassure her? Drawing a deep breath, he held open his hands.
"I can only pledge my word to you. If you do not trust it to be enough, then nothing I ever do or say would be enough to reassure you of my love. You must choose to believe in me, Brenna."
She studied the warrior. It was her choice - was she strong enough to make it? Her eyes widened. That really was her answer; the one thing she knew beyond doubt about herself was that she could trust her strength. She had been tested by fire and had triumphed.
"I choose to believe in you, Cuchulainn," she said slowly and distinctly. And then she smiled her lopsided smile at his stunned look.
Cuchulainn whooped and lifted her into his arms. "I am going to be sure that you never lose me."
He set her on her feet, but kept his arms around her. It felt so indescribably good just to stand there, holding her body against his. No woman had ever felt so right in his arms. He hadn't even kissed her yet, and Brenna had already given him more than any of the beautiful young women with whom he had frittered away so much of his time.
When he felt her shoulders shaking, he thought his heart would break. Didn't she believe him? Couldn't she see that he would never hurt her?
"What is it, love?" He leaned back just enough so that he could see her face, and was surprised to see her eyes sparkling with the laughter that was soundlessly shaking her body.
"Oh, Cu," she said through giggles. "You smell like puppy urine and old milk."
Cuchulainn scowled at her with pretended severity. "Fand is not a puppy. She's a wolf."
As if to second his words, there came from inside the tent a whimpering that almost instantly changed into a youthful version of the mournful howl of a wolf.
"Did I mention that you will have to share me with Fand?" Cuchulainn said.
The pitiful howl increased in volume.
"I'll get more milk." Brenna was already turning away, but Cuchulainn wasn't ready to relinquish his grip on her shoulders.
"You will return?"
She looked into the eyes that would eternally remind her of Epona's altar and the magic of second chances.
"Yes, Cuchulainn. I will return."
He dropped his hands from her shoulders so that she could hurry away, but she felt him watch her as she disappeared into the pre-morning mist.
"Soon!" he called after her, the urgency in his voice punctuated by the pitiful howls echoing from his tent.
The castle was quiet, but as Brenna rushed through the Great Hall and into the cook's entrance to the kitchen, she was quickly surrounded by the sounds and scents of an awakening castle. The kitchen was a hub of activity and smelled deliciously of freshly baked bread. Trying to stay out of the way, Brenna helped herself to a pitcher from the neatly arranged cupboard and dunked it in the barrel of fresh milk.
"Good morn to ye, Healer," Wynne called. Several of her assistants nodded friendly welcomes.
"Good - good morning," Brenna said a little breathlessly. She hadn't forgotten Wynne's beauty, but seeing her there, with her fiery hair pulled up into a mass of curls that spilled around her perfect face, Brenna's heart faltered.
How could Cu choose her over this vivacious young woman?
"Are ye gettin' milk for the warrior's beastie?"
"Yes." Brenna snapped the word. She hadn't meant to speak so sharply, but the memory of Wynne's body pressed against Cuchulainn's as they moved together to the beat of the drums suddenly had her feeling sick and uncertain. And, worse, she could feel the cook's sharp gaze studying her knowingly.
"There be fresh bread and a nice hunk of cheese if the two of ye have mind to break yer fast after feedin'
the creature."
"Thank you, I'll add it to the tray," Brenna said quickly, wanting only to get out of the kitchen. Wynne's assistants, the same women who had been in the garden the day before, had paused in their work to watch the exchange between them.
"I'll aid ye," Wynne said, suddenly appearing at Brenna's side. With precise, industrious movements, the cook filled a basket with a loaf of still warm bread, a wedge of fragrant yellow cheese and several slices of cold meat. All of which she loaded onto Brenna's tray after rustling through a pantry and adding a wineskin to the meal.
Surprised, Brenna raised her head and looked directly at the beautiful young cook, who was studying her with large, emerald-colored eyes.
"I wish ye joy, Brenna. The warrior has chosen well."
Brenna flushed with unexpected pleasure. Foolishly, she couldn't do much more than smile and breathe,
"Thank you."
Wynne winked at her. "Women must watch out for one another. The next time I get the ague, I'll be expectin' one of yer legendary horrid potions to put me back to sorts. Now, run along and be sure ye eat plenty, because Brenna, lass, ye may be needin' yer strength."
Smiling and blushing, Brenna carried her loaded tray from the kitchen, snagging some fresh linens from the basket near the door as the women laughed and called out bawdy encouragement.
Never in her life would she have thought it possible. They accepted her. They included her. And Cuchulainn desired her. The joy that moved in her chest was a small, newly fledged bird just beginning to spread its wings and soar from the secret place in her heart.
He gave her a haggard smile when she entered the tent.
"Fand's hungry," he said, grimacing as the cub suckled at his finger and growled in displeasure at receiving nothing for her efforts.
"If she feels well enough to be angry at you, I think I can safely say that she will live."
Brenna filled the teat while Cuchulainn grappled with the wriggling ball of cub. As the cub latched on to the milky ball of cloth, she suddenly wished for a wound she could tend or an arm she could set.
"Will you sit by me, Brenna?" Cuchulainn nodded at the spot beside him on the narrow bed.
Brenna sat, clutching her hands together to hide their trembling. For a little while the only sound in the tent was Fand, noisily sucking and making small, puppyish grunts. Brenna watched the cub, noting the gentle way Cuchulainn's hands held her. Every so often he would stroke the cub and mutter soft words of encouragement.
"It's just me, you know," Cu said, using the same soothing tone of voice with Brenna as he did with the small wolf.
"Just you?" she repeated, feeling incredibly stupid.
"Yes. It's the same me who you ordered around the night El was injured. It's the same me whose face you can read the instant anything goes wrong with any of our clan. The same me you've worked side by side with to bring our home alive again." He smiled and shifted his body so that their shoulders and the sides of their legs were touching. "I'll tell you a secret. For all of my rakish ways you, my sweet Healer, scare me almost speechless."
Disbelieving, Brenna shook her head. "That makes no sense."
"I've told you a secret - a rather embarrassing one at that. Now it's your turn."
She looked up at him. Her logical mind cried to protect herself - don't open to him - don't say anything.
But his eyes rested on her, warm and expectant, and the hope that had fledged within her breast stirred again, beating away her fear.
"Your eyes are the same color as two gifts that were given to me by Epona." Her voice sounded soft and a little unsure, but she held his gaze and did not veil her face with her hair.
"Gifts from Epona? What are they?"
"A turquoise stone and the feather from a bird's wing." Saying it aloud suddenly made it sound trivial, and she could feel her face heating with embarrassment, but Cuchulainn didn't laugh or tease her.
"Will you show me someday?"
Brenna nodded. How could one simple question make her feel so amazingly happy?
The cub had finally slowed its ravenous suckling. Cu glanced at her.
"Please tell me that it is safe to wash this beast now."
She looked at Fand. She was curled against Cuchulainn, belly tightly distended, milk dribbling from the side of her mouth. Then her gaze shifted to Cuchulainn. His hair was a tangled mess and there was sleep in the corners of his eyes. The linen shirt that was unlaced and showed a broad expanse of his chest was stained and crusty with milk and waste from the cub, as was the kilt that was wrapped haphazardly around him. Warrior and cub desperately needed bathing.
"As your Healer I can say with great surety that you may bathe Fand." She wrinkled her nose at both of them.
Cuchulainn quirked an eyebrow up. "Though I sometimes appear to be a bumbling fool in your presence, even I can tell that my avowed intention to court you would have a much better chance of success if I didn't reek of wolf urine. Would you say that you agree?"
Brenna's stomach did a little flip-roll. "Yes."
"Good!" he said, standing so suddenly that Fand made a grumpy, murrugh sound. Cu hushed the cub by tucking her snugly within his shirt. "You brought food?" He eyed the basket and the wine. "Excellent."
Then he turned and rifled through the chest that sat at the foot of the bed from which he quickly pulled out a clean kilt and shirt. Satisfied, he grabbed the basket of food and laid the fresh linens over it. Then he held out his free hand to the staring Brenna.
"Well, you must come with us," he said. "It's too early to be barging in on my sister. As much as I enjoy tormenting her, nothing puts El in as foul a mood as having her sleep interrupted. And I'll need her good humor later today when I formally ask her permission to court you - so using her bathing chamber is out.
Fand and I could bathe in a basin." He peered down at the filthy cub nestled against his skin. "But in truth I do not think that would suffice." Absently, he scratched his head and muttered, "I hope the beast hasn't given me fleas." Then his face broke into a boyish grin. "So you will simply have to show me to the bathing pool that you and Brighid and El used."
Brenna stared at him, not sure what to say. For all of her avowed strength, she could still feel her fear of taking this amazing, surprising chance fighting with her longing for the warrior.
Cuchulainn closed the small space between them and took her hand, pulling her to her feet.
"Would you rather not spend time alone with me, Brenna?"
Brenna swallowed and heard herself speak the truth. "I'm afraid."
He lifted her hand to his face, and held it against his cheek while he gazed steadily into her eyes. "So am I, love."
The honesty of his answer made her decision infinitely easier. She let her breath out in a rush. "Then we'll be afraid together."