Curse of the Celts Clara O'Connor (new reading txt) 📖

A cheer went up around the hall, and I smiled stiffly. Rion Deverell stood and raised a cup in my direction. I refused to meet his eyes. He could say whatever he liked but I would not make this easier for him. He had decided. But I had never agreed.

“Twenty years ago, my mother and sister were lost to us, and the legacy of the Lakes was snuffed out. My sister’s return is indeed a blessing I could never have hoped for. To have her returned safely to us is a boon to my house, my country and our entire island. With her, she brings another bloodline we had thought lost to us. With the joining of Lakes and York, we honour the gods who bestowed their great gifts on our blessed people. Such a tie can only strengthen all our lands and bring to an end the warring between our tribes. To the marriage of Catriona of Mercia and Marcus of Anglia.”

The announcement fell a little flat in a hall full of Celts of Gwynedd who had no cause to celebrate such a union.

He stepped back and made his way to the end of the table where Bronwyn was now standing. I felt Marcus stiffen beside me.

“Before the twelfth day of Yuletide we shall also celebrate the joining of my house with House Cadoc of Kernow. The lovely Bronwyn has consented to become my wife when we return to Carlisle.”

Deverell wrapped an arm around her and dropped a kiss on her cheek as the hall erupted in approval. Bronwyn hadn’t told me. But then, I hadn’t exactly given her an opportunity since I had lied to her face about my relationship with Devyn.

How neatly he had united all the great tribes south of Hadrian’s wall. No wonder he had been furious that I might disrupt his plans by refusing to marry Marcus. With his announcement, for the first time in centuries, the major houses of the province of Britannia had been neatly brought together, concentrating power and uniting the various forces. Londinium and the council would hear of this.

I could barely think as I sat there, trapped, at the high table. He couldn’t do this. I didn’t want this. My blood boiled in my veins. My earlier silent flirtation with Devyn had been crushed by my brother’s high-handed announcement.

At the end of the meal, Fidelma came over to me and took my hand in her delicate ones, attempting to give me comfort.

“The Griffin is not for you,” she said. “It is better if you accept this.”

“Better for who?” I asked bitterly, shoving my chair back from the table. I was tired of everyone telling me I couldn’t be with the man I loved. I stumbled from the noisy hall and down an empty corridor. I needed to be anywhere but there.

Then suddenly my shadow was there, tangled around me as we crashed through an open door into a chamber off the corridor. We kissed, lips hard against lips, his fingers tangling in my hair and pulling it back, the better to expose my throat to him as his teeth grazed across the vulnerable skin. His mouth returned to mine, taking, owning, demanding, and I met him stroke for stroke. His anger met with my ferocity.

He lifted his mouth and pulled me tight against him, his muscular body taut and coiled against mine. I needed to bring him back and so I softened my body into his. We were one. We would find a way out of this together.

“I thought you had given up on us again,” I said accusingly into his warm neck.

“I told you I wouldn’t,” he reminded me. “I thought we would have time. I thought that if we let Rion cool off, he might come around. But it looks like we are out of time. There is no way out of this.”

“There is. There has to be,” I insisted.

“No. He has announced it publicly. For you to break it off now would be a political disaster. He has promised you to York and York will not let you go.”

“Marcus is York and he will be happy to release me.”

“Not yet he isn’t. The steward has ruled since the last Plantagenet died. Gideon’s father is ruthless, and having a Plantagenet on the Anglian throne again gives him power and it is to York’s benefit if you marry Marcus. ”

“There is still a chance for us. I haven’t had time to work on Rion.” He was my brother; surely I could persuade him against adding to York’s power? “I was caught by surprise before, but I’ll—”

“You don’t understand. Allowing me to live is as far as he can push it. To break the betrothal in my favour…” Devyn stepped back from me, running his hands through his hair. “It would be suicide for the King of Mercia even to consider such a thing.”

I shook my head, my breath coming fast, as his initial reaction had cooled to resignation. I could feel him closing himself off.

“No, no, let’s talk about this. There must be a way.”

“There is a way.” Marcus appeared in the doorway, his abrupt intrusion scaring the daylights out of us both.

Devyn’s expression revealed nothing, but he waited for Marcus to speak.

“Get married.”

“What?” I asked. What on earth did he mean?

“You and Devyn. Present them with the deed done and then Rion can’t be blamed,” he suggested. “It’s one thing to pressure you into fulfilling a contract already made, but it’s another for him to force you to break a more serious one, no matter how fresh it is.”

“But how? No one here would dare defy the the King of Mercia’s announcement.”

“We’ll go to the Holy Isle before everyone departs after the Winter Solstice. They can do it there.”

“What about the handfast cuff?” We knew it was supposed to come off when we married, but until then it couldn’t even be cut off.

“I’ve been looking into that. Ewan took a look at mine. He was