Page 45 of Druid Cursed

CHAPTER

Kellen stroked Maggie’s hair back from her face, his pulse a raging beast in his head and chest. When she had collapsed in his arms mid-dance yestereve, unresponsive, he knew who had struck.

Sorcha . ’Twas one matter to destroy his life, to attempt to steal his Ravenwood birthright, quite another to endanger his love.

His very heart.

He kneeled beside the lounger in Caedmon’s study, where Maggie had curled up since the previous night, unconscious, still in her gown, an enchanted princess awaiting the spell to be lifted.

If only it were as easy as giving her a kiss.

Not once had he left her side. The workroom was the safest place to protect her while Caedmon determined any damage to the ward surrounding the main hall.

Maggie’s eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes. Her face was an unholy shade of pale, and a tear leaked onto her cheekbone. She blinked slowly and focused on him. “Kellen?”

“ Leannán. ” He clutched her tight against his heart, unashamed that he trembled. Relief washed through him, so strong and sudden that it threatened to cleave him in twain.

“Where am I? What…What happened?”

He took in a deep, steadying breath before answering. “Sorcha’s spell slipped through my ward. You have been unconscious for nigh twenty-four hours.” He tucked her head beneath his chin and simply breathed her in. “Never again, Maggie. I will never allow Sorcha to harm you in any manner.”

Her arms around him tightened for a moment, then she eased back and met his gaze. “It wasn’t Sorcha.”

“What do you mean?” Kellen brushed the hair from her eyes, the runaway tear off her cheek. Her skin was icy against his fingers. He removed his tuxedo jacket from where he had flung it onto a nearby chair and placed it gently around her bare shoulders. “If not Sorcha, then who?”

Maggie clutched his jacket, her expression haunted. “Aibreann.”

He went still. “How do you know of Sorcha’s daughter?”

“Remember that book I showed you today?” She shook her head. “Make that yesterday. The one I found the clue card in?”

He nodded. “The anonymous, undated journal.”

“Turns out, it’s Aibreann’s diary.”

“How is that possible?” He knew of no such diary. The fact it had been in his tower, that Maggie had been the one to locate it, boded ill.

“The spell at the masquerade.” Her delicate throat worked as she swallowed. “It took me to your castle, to Aibreann.”

“A black widow spell,” he said, the realization like razors in his belly.

“Sorcha planted it in my book in the library, woven over the key needed for your quest.” How long had that spell been hiding in his book?

It must have taken root in Maggie when she found the key, dormant until Sorcha—Wendy—activated it, no power necessary.

That was the only way to circumvent all the protection charms Maggie had on her that night.

What fools they had been to believe Sorcha was not already two steps ahead of them. “We must tell Caedmon.”

He reached for her, and Maggie leaned back, denying his touch. A chill pierced his heart. Something terrible had happened when she collapsed, something more than learning the identity of the journal’s author. Something capable of tearing them asunder.

“No, I want to discuss the journal now. Alone.” Her blue eyes sparked, sharp as daggers, and it slew him that she would not let him comfort her. “Aibreann said you rejected her, broke her heart.”

He sat back on his heels and wiped a hand over his face. “Aye, did I not tell you ’twas why Sorcha cursed me?”

“Yes, but you left out many important details.” Maggie’s mouth, though trembling, set in a stubborn line he knew too well. “It’s story time, Kellen.”

The way she said story sounded suspiciously like a demand for confession.

“There is little to tell. Aibreann had decided, for reasons only she knows, that I was the man she wanted.” He slid to a sit and rested his back against Caedmon’s desk, suddenly weary.

“I had little time or need for aught else than my studies, but Aibreann was beautiful and wont to getting whatever she desired.”

“So her beauty got to you, despite your best intentions.” Maggie’s soft voice held a bitter edge. “I get it.”

“I am not Darren.” He made no effort to hide the growl in the words.

Trust took time to develop, and yet he believed Maggie had seen into his soul, understood the manner of man he was.

That she questioned him now, doubted him, pierced his heart like a blade.

“I cared not about her beauty, attention, or desires, and I told her as much. She remained persistent and began interfering with my work. I learned that she sabotaged those in her household so that I would attend to them, thereby granting her more moments with me.”

He shuddered at the memories. “I did not waver from honesty. I told her that I did not and would not ever possess any affection for her. My true love would be caring, selfless, kind—and she contained none of those qualities. And you are all of those.”

Maggie watched him, unblinking, clearly searching for any signs of deception. She would not find them. Every word he uttered held only truth. Whatever she asked of him, he would answer without deceit. Any detail she needed to know to breach the chasm gaping between them, he would gladly offer.

“She did not agree with my assessment, named me all manners of ill-begotten animals,” he continued with a shrug, a nonchalance he did not feel. “The next day, Sorcha cursed me.”

She looked beyond him, out the window to the night-dark gardens. “Aibreann hung herself from the rafters of your tower.”

His breath caught in his throat, bottled by surprise.

“She said Caedmon found her, that he hid her body so no one would know.”

“Nay, that could not be—”

“She said she was pregnant,” Maggie continued, her quiet voice slicing through his with the precision of a blade. “With your child.”

The details of the lies made his skin crawl. “’Tis not true.” Kellen maneuvered to his knees before her. Maggie’s blank expression and dull voice twisted that chill in his heart deeper. “I never touched her. I am not a philanderer. If she was with child, ’twas not mine.”

“She also said the only way your curse can be broken is with my blood.”

Cacamas .

Maggie slowly lowered her gaze to his. “Is that a lie, too?”

The ceiling seemed to collapse on him, the walls closing in, crushing his bones. He had to tell her the truth even as he knew it would steal her from him. “No. But I would never harm you, Maggie.”

Hurt and horror battled for dominance in her summer-sky eyes. “It’s true?” She shot to her feet, and her voice trembled with betrayal. “You lied to me.”

“I have not and will never deceive you.” An invisible hand strangled his throat, and he could not draw enough breath into his lungs.

“Omitting such an important fact is the same thing! You made me believe we could end this some other way. All this time, you only wanted me for Sorcha’s bloodline in my veins, for what I could do for you. I was your good-enough-girl, only for reasons I never imagined.”

“’Tis not—”

She tore off his coat and flung it to the floor. “You thought seducing me would keep me close, an easy target, and I totally fell for it.” Her short laugh was devoid of humor. “You’d think I’d have learned that particular lesson, but I guess I’m more of a fool than I believed possible.”

“Maggie—” He reached for her.

She retreated and all but ran from him, storming out the door and into the corridor, silk flowing behind her.

Kellen gave chase, and burdened by her gown and slippers, she had no hope of outrunning him. Before she made it to the stairs, he caught up and blocked her path. “Maggie, please do not run from me.”

“Get out of my way.” As much as her words vibrated with anger, the undertone of hurt, the manner in which she would not even meet his gaze, utterly destroyed him.

“I said I would never harm you, and I vow it to be truth. I beg of you, hear my explanation.”

All the fight seemed to drain from her, and she slumped.

“Maggie.” Her name was a sigh, a plea for her to hearken to his words.

“I did not tell you about your blood being a necessary ingredient to breaking the curse because it matters not. If Caedmon cannot find an alternative, then I will return to Sorcha’s prison.

Trading your freedom, your life for mine is not an option. ”

When she folded her arms, rather than flee, he released a breath. But he did not move away. He wanted to keep her near, close to his heart.

“You should have told me.”

Her broken voice struck him hard in the gut, and he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself and forthwith revealing my delight that you, Sorcha’s descendant, accepted the i nvitation to the Ravenwood Samhain festival.

Aye, and thank you for the kind and most generous offer to bleed out for my freedom.

I shall light a candle in the window every Samhain in your honor. ”

“No need to be a smart-ass.” Her humor would have been more convincing if she even glanced at him. Instead, she kept her gaze on the portrait adorning the wall across from the stairs, an oil painting of him as a new druid, maintained from centuries past.

Panic, twisted by helplessness, lodged like a mace in his breast. Losing Maggie, och, he could not bear it.

“Do you not see? This vision you had is a trick of Sorcha to stir distrust and divide us, to empower her more.” He gently turned her around to face him so she might see his sincerity.

“I did not impregnate Aibreann, I vow it. I learned of her death half a century later, the first reprieve from my prison. I would willingly spend an eternity in that void over harming a single hair on your head. You are my heart, Maggie.”