Chapter 13 #4
Her heart pounded at the sight of it as she crouched behind a stone, the pulsing rhythm of the music seeming to beat in tune with her own racing heart.
Never had she dreamed of anything like this.
Never had she heard sounds like those echoing from the instruments she had never seen.
The pounding of a drum, the allure of strings and pipes, voices mingling in song and laughter.
This was life distilled to its essence. Magic, enchantment, the wild refrain of the Irish hills that had called to her even long ago behind the abbey walls.
She was desperate to be a part of that whirling, beautiful force, but she dared only to peek at it through the shadows, still hidden away from the world, as she had been her whole life.
Nor would that ever change, Caitlin thought with a sting of sorrow.
Any sight of her would be dangerous in the years to come; anyone who showed her kindness would be placed in danger of Conn's vengeance should he discover that she lived.
After all Niall and his family had sacrificed by helping her, she could never risk putting anyone else in the same kind of peril.
She would forever live in the shadows, watching the brilliant colors and tastes and scents of life swirl past without her, as useless and untested as the spear that would never fly.
But she swallowed her sadness, determined that she would not waste one moment of this night in grieving for what she could not have.
She drew into the darkest haven of shadows, closing her eyes, letting her feet move as they would to music so wondrous it made her throat ache.
She imagined Niall smiling up at her, sweeping her skyward in arms so strong he could sail her to the moon itself.
She could almost hear the rare gift of his laughter as he caught her again, feel his mouth on hers, hungry, eager, despite the crowd all around them, unafraid of the pulsing of life itself in their bodies, unashamed as they celebrated the lush gift of fertile ground and greening fields.
It is ready, all the world seemed to sing. The womb of earth and doe and woman swelling with the mystery of the yet-to-be-born. And Caitlin's own body stirred with a hunger and a grief she had never known she would feel.
She opened her eyes, saw a broad-shouldered youth drag his laughing partner off into a copse of trees, as if both were unable to bear the torture of their separate bodies another moment.
Caitlin flushed, knowing instinctively they were stealing off alone to celebrate the desire that shone in their faces.
How would such a celebration begin? She was not certain. She only knew she had felt the same desire singing in her own veins. She wished Niall would teach her.
But that would never happen, she knew. Loss swept through her, leaving her barren. She looked away from the bonfire, knowing it would be too painful to stay any longer.
But as she turned to leave, she stifled a cry behind her hand.
Standing against a veil of moonlight was Niall, his broad shoulders silvered by moon-glow, his dark hair a tangle around a face hard with wanting, burning with need...
for her? Caitlin thought in wonder. But the instant he saw her gazing at his face, he covered those raw emotions as if they somehow shamed him.
She swallowed hard, waiting for him to reprove her for the danger she had put herself in, but he only stepped nearer.
"I returned to Daire as soon as I was able," he said in a strange, thick voice. "I looked for you there."
"I know I should not be here."
He stunned her, a melting-honey smile spreading across his face. "You are mistaken, Caitlin of the Lilies. I returned so that I could bring you here myself."
Caitlin's breath caught. "You were going to—to bring me—"
"I thought you should see a little of this land, listen to the music, the laughter, hear the tales your father and mother heard, before you leave Ireland forever."
Stunned at the depth of Niall's understanding, Caitlin instinctively touched her heart. "I never imagined anything like this," she said, waving toward the oblivious revelers. "It is as if life boiled up from the very ground, swallowing up doubt and fear, leaving everyone naked in their souls, new."
"Aye," Niall rasped, low. "There are those who would claim this is a sin," he said. "Such unbridled pleasure is wrong between a man and a woman."
"I cannot believe it," Caitlin said. "If there is love between them—" She looked away, suddenly shy, suddenly shaken. "I imagine what they feel is the closest we can come to touching heaven. I am sorry that I will miss it." The ache knotted in her throat again. She would not let him see it.
"Miss what, Lily Fair?"
A shiver of pleasure rippled through her at the tender name he used again, an endearment all her own.
"You think me innocent, and I am, I know.
Grown up in the abbey, tasting so little of life.
But I do understand what it will be like for me, Niall, once I flee Ireland.
There will be no wandering about, dancing around bonfires.
I will be an exile in hiding, forever clinging to the shadows as certainly as I am now. "
She could not keep the wistfulness from her voice. "I do not mean to sound ungrateful to you for saving my life. It is just that I wish my life could be like everyone else's, even for just one night."
"It can be."
So calmly he said it, so certainly. She raised her eyes to his, saw the quiet hunger in those dark green depths.
"Dance with me, Caitlin."
Her cheeks flamed, and she stumbled back a step, thrusting her hands behind her like a child caught reaching fingers toward something hot and sweet just come from the fire. "But—but someone might see us," she objected weakly.
"Every man here has eyes for his lady alone this night. They are drunk on poteen and moonlight. In the darkness here, what will they see? The shapes of just one more man with a woman? Not even the moon knows who we are."
Caitlin raised her eyes to his. "I do not know what to do. I have never even seen such dancing until tonight." He reached out his hand, took her fingers in his own.
"Trust me," he urged her as the music swelled.
Caitlin's body tingled, her hand trembling in Niall's strong grasp. Sword-callused and hard, a warrior's hand, yet it was so warm, so inexpressibly gentle.
Trust me, he had asked her. How could she not? She loved him. The realization was almost more than she could hold. It welled up inside her, sweet and magical and utterly impossible.
She had taken so much from this man already.
She could not ask him—so strong, so vital, so brave—to share her shadow-world, forever fearing discovery.
She loved him too much, understood him too well to condemn him to such an existence.
He would have to be free of her, build a life of his own.
A new life far away from Fintan's cursed daughter, if he was ever to have a chance to feel the sun on his face.
That truth hurt her more than she could bear, and yet she turned her face into the moonlight, letting the breeze brush away sorrow and loss. Should she not be grateful for this gift the fates had let her taste even so briefly? Some women lived their whole lives and never loved a man so completely.
In this one night, aye, and what little time remained, she could fill herself up with this secret, precious love, gather memories she could keep forever.
Even as she turned to smile up into the rugged planes of Niall's face, Caitlin knew there was one thing she could never do.
She could love Niall in silence, but never could she tell him.