Twice Upon A Time (The Celtic Legends Series) Read Online Free Page A

from a man.”
    Her eyes. Dread flooded through her. She had forgotten her wretched eyes.
    She lowered her lashes and struggled away from him, stumbling back to glare at him at arm’s length. “Are you the one who’s afraid now?”
    “I’d never fear a lass even if she wields the power of ten Druids.”
    “You won’t be afraid that your cows will leave off giving milk? Or I’ll strike you blind or deaf? Or bring a powerful storm to muddy your way?” She waved to someplace deep in the woods. “You won’t believe that I’ll steal the seed from your wretched bull?”
    He made a gesture of scorn. “Why would you waste your power on such mischief?”
    She said nothing. She could not tell him that the people of Morna blamed her for every calamity.
    “Ah.” He nodded slowly . “Now I understand why you dance alone. The men of these parts are cowards.” He scraped his sword out of the scabbard and held out the gleaming length. Swirling, pagan designs etched the metal hilt. “Me and mine have not blinded ourselves to the ways of the world, Brigid. And I fear nothing.”
    She knew it was true. He sti ll stared deep into her eyes, unflinching. She clung to his gaze, waiting for his mask to fall and the true extent of his horror to show, but still, he held her gaze, and a strange hope blossomed in her heart.
    The Sídh , always full of mischief, had toyed with her by giving her foxglove and then leading her to this man. A chain of fairy foxglove would not bind a human to do her bidding. But there might be a gift in this meeting after all. This was the first man she’d ever known, besides her brother, who could hold her gaze for more than one terrified moment.
    “Who are you ?” she asked, huskier than before. “What are you doing here?”
    He sheathed his sword. “I t seems neither one of us is who we claim to be.”
    “That’s not an answer .”
    Suddenly, she heard a voice in the forest. She started and looked about, peering through the trees.
    “I have been away too long. My men search for me.” He thrust out his hand, wide-palmed and strong. “We are well met, Brigid. Come with me.”
    She skittered back to the protection of an oak. She’d face one man—she wouldn’t face a whole army. “I’ll go nowhere with you, not yet.”
    “ This meeting in the mists was fated.” He beckoned her with a curl of his fingers. “I command you to come with me.”
    “Speak to me lik e that and I’ll have none of you.”
    The voice in the woods called out again, joined by others, louder, closer, and she heard distinctly the name of the man they summoned.
    Conor .
    She froze. She dug her fingers into the furrowed ridges of the bark. His braid of a torque captured the first golden rays of the sun, and suddenly she knew exactly who stood before her.
    “ Conor of Ulster.” She stuttered the name. “You’ve come to claim Morna for the O’Neill.”
    He smiled . “So you do know my name.”
    “A nd a curse upon it!”
    She swirled and raced into the dying mists, her feet slipping over the grass. She grasped her skirts in her hands, hiking them away from her scratched and muddy legs. The thunder of her heart pounded in her ears. She waited for the sound of his boots hitting the ground behind her, and the clench of his powerful hand on her neck.
    He shouted her name, once, twice . The possessive sound lingered in her mind long after the echo faded into silence.
     
    ***
     
    Steel clanged against steel. Conor roared with each swing of his sword, the bulk of his frame absorbing the impact of blade against blade before he pulled back, whirled the weighty weapon over his head anew. Sweat stained the wool of his tunic and dripped off his chin, but his legs stayed as firm and immobile as century-old oaks. His barrel-chested adversary staggered under each blow.
    “Are you man or child?” Conor swung again, and his opponent’s knees buckled. “Fight, damn you.”
    Blades clashed. The warrior stumbled back. Mead sloshed