«I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?»

Branna reached up and smoothed his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. «I trust you.»

* * *

Devlin awoke, his body curved around Branna, her head resting on his shoulder. He held her close, revelling in the feel of her. He felt warm and more content than he could ever remember.

Although his body was tight with need, Devlin slipped out from beneath Branna without waking her. He walked naked in the frigid early-morning air to the washbasin and sluiced cold water over his skin, washing away the night’s passions.

Branna. She’d made him feel like he could have a future on earth. She was the one person who knew him. She’d touched his heart. He would love to have more of her. A lifetime would suit him.

Knowing it was impossible, he donned his drawers, a green tunic, surcoat and a mantle lined with fur, without the help of his chamberlain. He fastened the mantle at his neck with a brooch. He pulled out his sword. He needed a sparring match to numb his mind to what he had to do. A life with Branna could not be.

Devlin had his own destiny to fulfil. His life had been mapped and he’d trained for this moment.

He paused to admire Branna, lying warm and soft, nestled into the bedding, her hair spilling dark on the pillow. Devlin turned and closed the door on the sleeping woman and his heart.

Devlin slid over the bench and sat beside the large, behemoth of a man at the long wooden table within the great hall. Uncle Hugh slapped him on the back. «’Tis almost midday, my boy. What has detained you?»

Devlin preferred not to mention Branna. «Only the mundane duties of this castle.»

«Those will soon not be yours to bear.»

Devlin chose to say nothing. He grabbed a plate of food and nibbled from it. «My father. How did he die?»

Uncle Hugh looked at him in surprise. «We’ve already discussed this, years ago.»

«I know, but humour me and speak it again.»

«The night before he took his rites, he was accidentally attacked by the hounds. No one knows why.»

«He didn’t wish to marry?»

«Marry? Where would you have heard this?»

«Here and about.»

«Well, there was a woman who captured his eye.»

Devlin glared at him. «What happened?»

Hugh sighed. «They were in the chapel with the priest when the dogs burst through. She didn’t wish to die and pushed your father towards the dogs, hoping they would be occupied, allowing her to escape with her life. Unfortunately, this was not her destiny and she perished as well.»

«Why did you not tell me this before?»

«I thought to protect you from the hurt of knowing your father was betrayed by a woman he loved. I didn’t want you to be misguided and make the same mistake.»

Devlin smiled, trusting his uncle’s words. Branna had been young. Her grandmama had obviously filled her head with false information. Such a magic chalice surely didn’t exist.

He pushed away from the table. «No need to worry, Uncle. I know who I am and will accept my responsibilities.»

Devlin left the hall to seek his knights knowing his father had given up everything, including his life, for the sake of a woman, a woman who’d betrayed him. He would not repeat the mistakes of his father.

Five

Branna stirred in the deep comfort of the bed, the sound of male laughter and clashing steel interrupting her dreams of dark eyes and a warm mouth. No longer afraid of the nightmares, Branna opened her eyes to beams of sunlight streaming through the slats in the shutters.

Her discarded clothes from the night before lay neatly folded over a chair, now dry. Her chemise lay with them on top. Branna smiled. Today, Devlin would take her to find her chalice.

With the air still cool, Branna wrapped the fur around her bare shoulders and padded to the window. She opened one shutter to the bailey below. She picked Devlin out most certainly as he sparred with his knights. He looked resplendent in a dark-green tunic, covering light chainmail, his immense sword in one hand and his shield in the other. Branna watched with pride as he exuded confidence and evaded his student’s powerful thrust. His exact timing and light footwork gave him the edge over his larger opponent.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, Devlin paused and glanced up. Branna quickly hid behind the shutter, not comfortable with him knowing she watched. Her feelings were too raw and uncertain. He’d said they’d have just one night, but Branna had to convince him they could have more.

She gathered her clothes and within the wardrobe found the washbasin and a clean linen towel. She cleansed herself, patting lightly between her legs at the unfamiliar sore feeling. Branna dressed quickly and managed to find her way through the keep to the bailey below. As she passed through the kitchen, she grabbed some bread — she was starving! She didn’t want to enter the great hall without Devlin, unsure if he wanted her presence known.

Arriving at the upper bailey, Branna’s heart sank. The knights still practised archery and fencing, and there was a group of children playing horseshoes, but Devlin had disappeared. He probably had to meet with his steward and bailiff, or attend to other important duties. Her desires were minor compared to his responsibilities.

She turned around, intent on returning to Devlin’s chamber. Then she saw him. He stood across the bailey near the hall. He held the reins of Ailbay and Molly.

Branna slowly walked towards him and he moved to her.

Devlin handed her Molly’s reins. «I thought to take a ride about the lough before we search for your chalice. Would you join me, Branna?»

Branna’s heart leaped. «Aye, my lord.»

«My given name is Devlin. I wish for you to use it.»

Devlin took her by the waist and lifted her on to the edge of the saddle. Branna raised her skirt, swung her left leg over the horn and sat astride. Devlin mounted Ailbay and she followed him through the outer ward to the gatehouse. Once they’d cleared the portcullis, Devlin spurred his horse to a gallop and Branna followed close behind. They raced over the high rolling hills, a tapestry of subtle shades of green: darker under the blackberry bushes, lighter as sunlight dappled through the sycamore trees.

Branna loved this land and its wild ruggedness tugged at her heart. She would hate to leave this beautiful place and return to the dour confines of her uncle’s house.

Devlin stopped on a high bluff overlooking the calm, blue waters. «Lough Ceo is oftentimes in fog. We are in luck this day as the view is clear.»

He dismounted and approached Molly, reaching for her. Branna leaned forwards, but as she slid into his outstretched arms, her skirt caught on the pommel of the saddle. Branna’s feet never touched the ground and she fell against Devlin, grabbing him around the neck.

Devlin stumbled back, but gained purchase before they both tumbled to the ground.

«I am ever so sorry, my lord.» She couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice.

«I am not.» He held her tightly and sealed his lips over hers, taking possession of her mouth. The first hungry swipe of his tongue took her breath away. She dug her hands into his hair, pulling his head closer.

Growling soft and low in his throat, he dragged his mouth away. His tongue rimmed her bruised lips. «Maybe ’tis best we find the chalice.»

He reached up and unhooked her arms from around his neck. There was unmistakable regret in his tone. Yet, she felt he held something important from her, something that lurked in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. Perhaps after they found the chalice she could speak to him of a future.

«Aye, ’tis best.»

* * *

Devlin approached the tomb where Branna had scraped the earth the night before, her shovel on the ground where she’d dropped it. He hopped from Ailbay’s back and walked the central tomb, studying the boulders. He knew the dogs and their fears. They wouldn’t have buried the chalice under the dolmen itself. It was a sacred place. They would have buried it outside the tomb, beneath the lowest end of the capstone, pointing downwards.

«I believe you were digging in the wrong place. You should find your chalice buried at the end point of this rock.»

He grabbed the shovel and began digging, making great headway in a short span of time. He easily removed and tossed away rock after rock. Within only a few minutes, he’d made a large, wide hole. Now on his knees, Devlin dug with his hands, capturing dirt in his cupped palms and throwing it aside.

The sunlight gleamed off a shiny object. Devlin’s heart thumped in his chest. He carefully removed more dirt, exposing the sides of a metal cup. Branna hovered beside him, her sky-blue eyes briefly meeting his.

Devlin hesitated. «Would you like the honour of removing it from its grave?»

«Nay, my lord.» She laughed, a silvery rush of pleasure. «As you’ve stated, ’tis on your property.»

Devlin smiled at her, then reached in and lifted the chalice out of the hole, brushing away the last vestige of dirt and dust. He held it high, admiring the graceful curves of the hammered gold cup. Engraved panels of filigree decorated the lower portion. Emerald stones gleamed around the edge of the upper band and lower girdle.

As he lowered it for Branna to hold, he felt a foreboding, a darkness descend upon his soul. He became cold, even as the sun warmed him. Evil thoughts consumed his mind. Why should he give it to her? Its magic had destroyed his family. He had to get rid of it.

Branna dropped her raised hands as Devlin’s face became distant and cold. His eyes were fixed on her but they looked very far away. He scared her.

«Devlin, what is wrong?»

He said nothing, but stared through her as if she didn’t exist.

Branna touched his arm. «Give me the chalice.»

His eyes grew luminous, glowing like red orbs in his now ashen face. She’d seen those eyes before. on the dogs.

He gripped her wrist, exerting hurtful pressure until she let go.

«Nay. You shall never touch this cup. Tonight I become Lord of the Underworld, ruler of all that is evil. The chalice is dangerous to us and will be destroyed.»

Branna gasped, horrified at his words. «Devlin, something is wrong. The chalice is hurting you.»

He forcefully shoved her away and Branna stumbled backwards.

She ran back at him. «Drop it. I beg of you to release it.»

Devlin withdrew a short dagger from his belt and wielded it at her threateningly. «Leave me and never return.»

Branna gasped and stopped, tears tumbling down her cheeks. «You can’t mean that.»

He took a menacing step towards her. «Would you challenge me and lose your life?»

Pain ripped through Branna’s heart, almost doubling her over. This couldn’t be happening.

She’d lost her chalice. She’d lost Devlin.

With little choice, Branna gathered Molly’s reins. Branna’s tears made it difficult for her to mount her horse, but somehow she managed to crawl upon its back. After a last look at Devlin’s stone cold face, Branna dug her heels into Molly’s flank.

With an aching heart and empty arms, she rode as if the Hounds of Hell had given chase, away from Castle Hollylough and the love of her life.

Branna dropped Molly’s reins and lay across her neck. Molly slowed her pace, sensing Branna’s distress, but Branna didn’t care. She buried her face into Molly’s silky mane and cried, huge heart-wrenching sobs. Devlin didn’t want her.

She was barely aware when Molly stopped in front of her uncle’s two-storey house. However, she noticed a flurry of activity seemed to have gripped the household, as all manner of people scurried about.

Wiping her face, Branna slid off Molly. She had to go on with her life and would have to force herself not to yearn for what she could never have. She woodenly stabled Molly and entered through the back door of her uncle’s house, hoping to get to her room without detection.

«Branna!»

She cringed and stopped, but didn’t turn around. Aunt Meeda.

«Where have you been all day? We are expecting a guest for supper. More than a guest and a normal supper, I’d say. We have found someone to take you in marriage, so ’tis a celebration with.»

The roaring in Branna’s ears cut through the remainder of her aunt’s words.

«Branna. Branna, are you listening? You are to be married tomorrow.»