Some Enchanted Waltz (32 page)

MacNeill nodded, waiting with an annoying patience for Adrian to continue. MacNeill held the advantage in this chess game they were engaged in; he knew his daughter never laid eyes on Adrian before she came here. Yet MacNeill remained quiet over the past fortnight, accepting the charade as easily as if he’d planned it himself.

“Tell me, in your country of Middle Earth, how do men and women journey to and fro without equestrian skills?”

“You’d be surprised.” MacNeill replied with a clever gleam in his icy blue eyes. 

“Enlighten me.” Adrian insisted, his pulse quickening as he anticipated the wonder inherent if the giant gave him a truthful answer.

MacNeill spat on the ground, “You’d never believe it. You’d think me mad.”

“Your secret will be safe with me.”

“As safe as my daughter?” The gruff voice chuckled with menace.

Adrian bristled, feeling the sting of double innuendo in the giant’s voice. “I would gladly lay down my life for the lass.” His retort was meant to be said with outrage, instead, his voice warbled with adolescent emotion and passion.

MacNeill digested his words thoughtfully as they moved through the woodlands surrounding Glengarra Castle. They traveled for some miles through the open fields and meandered up the gentle slope to the sacred stone circle. As a boy, Adrian had come here often, convinced this forgotten stone circle nestled before a small lake below the mountains to be a gathering place where the enchanted ones danced in the moonlight.

He dismounted easily, allowing his stallion to drink in the spring. MacNeill watched him, remaining on his mount as they paused near the standing stones. “Your kind is known for its superior horsemanship, yet, one would believe you had never before been astride a horse. If not horses, how does one get about in your world?”

“I blink my eyes like Jeannie and I’m off to parts unknown. What next, the townspeople will drag me into the square and burn me alive.” The giant spat on the ground again as if to punctuate his simmering wrath.

“I meant no harm, good sir! I swear. I would sooner plunge a dagger to my own breast then to see Tara harmed, her or her kin. For harming you would be one and the same as harming my love.”  Adrian crouched on his haunches near the stream, surveying the gently swirling water with philosophical wonder.

This place had always affected him so, giving him a sense of magic and awe of things beyond his reason. He brought MacNeill here in the hopes he might be equally inspired and reveal his true purpose in coming to live among the mortals.

Instead, the man was glowering at him with accusations of evil snares and ill intentions toward his daughter.

“I love Tara.” Adrian said simply, tired of the tension and suspicion between them. He stood, turning his gaze to the man towering above him in the saddle.

“We both know you never laid eyes on Tara before that night she was brought to your castle, Dillon. Now, I’m thinking, what purpose would a man have in hastily marrying a lost girl with amnesia? Surely you realize Tara was never on that ship.  She comes from a place far, far away from here, a place that cannot be gotten back to with horses or seafaring ships. She doesn’t belong here, any more than I do. So what’s your game? What do you mean by abducting my daughter?”

Adrian released a long breath, closing his eyes as he offered up a brief prayer.  “I did not abduct her.” He said at length. “I rescued her.” He opened his eyes, striding closer to the giant, wishing to speak to the man face to face.

“Rescued her from what?” The deep voice snapped with sarcasm.

“English soldiers. They were debating whether they should ravish her on the spot or tie her to the triangle and beat her until she told them what they wanted to hear.” 

His confession had the desired effect; shocking the giant into stunned silence.

  “What is this ridiculous talk of being burned alive?” Adrian asked with outrage. “You do go on about it as if it is a common practice. ‘Tis not the Irish way, to mistreat a guest who resides beneath our roof, be it a nobleman or a fugitive seeking shelter.”

MacNeill nodded. “The fishermen sheltered me with the belief I could be an injured member of the Fianna, the rebel militia in this neighborhood. Your gang of patriots, I presume?”

“Aye.” Adrian nodded. “I have my secrets as you have yours.” He walked closer to the man, speaking in a low whisper. “When I rescued your daughter, I believed she was sent to me in answer to my plea. I needed a bride from a foreign land to keep the Sheriff out of my affairs.”

“So, you used her as a pawn when she was weak, unable to defend herself, when she was lost and vulnerable. You owe us a great deal, Lord Dillon. I have a mind to tell her the truth, to call your bluff.”

“You owe me your daughter’s life. I could well have left her to the English soldiers.” Adrian was tired of the pretense between them, and tired of the man’s callous insolence toward him.

“Dismount.” He ordered, reaching for the pistol inside his coat. He never left the castle unarmed.  Holding it on the giant, he gestured with it for him to step down from his lofty position. If MacNeill wanted a fight, he was going get it.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me, and tell Tara I returned to Middle Earth?”

Chapter Twenty One

Adrian lifted a brow. It was a thought, but nay, he could not harm a member of the Sidhe Race. He’d be haunted and cursed for the rest of his miserable existence. “I mean you no harm.” He insisted. “If we are to continue to reside under the same roof, I’ll not be treated with contempt. Face me as a man if you have a quarrel with me, and we’ll settle it like men. I behaved honorably toward your daughter. I could have used her while she was vulnerable and wounded, as you say, and then passed her along to some other man when I was finished toying with her. Instead, I married her, yet you hold me in contempt for making her my countess.”

The giant swung one leg over the saddle. He jumped clumsily to the ground, stumbling and twisting his ankle as he landed. His backside met the earth with a thud. He groaned and then lay motionless for several moments, his face contorted in pain.

Cursing softly, Adrian bent and offered the wounded giant a hand to pull him up. It was a hopeless gesture. The man was too heavy.

The giant rolled onto his belly and rose on all fours, crawling to the nearest tree. The man swore loudly, groaned and slowly and methodically pulled himself upright as Adrian watched him with a pang of worry.

“Then it appears I’m in your debt.”  MacNeill croaked, offering Adrian an outstretched hand while propping himself against the tree with the other.

Taken aback by this hulking goliath being reduced to near helplessness before him Adrian could only stare at him. MacNeill grabbed his hand and shook it solemnly.

 “Now . . . how do you expect me to get back up on that beast? It took three men to get me up in the saddle, and I doubt you’ve that much strength. I don’t intend to walk back to the Castle.”

“We’ll manage. Sit down. Over here.” Adrian led him to a moss covered stone near the tree. After a moment, he added, “Under the circumstances, it is unnecessary to address me formally, as we are family, you may call me by my Christian name.”

Dan gave him a look he found hard to discern. Scorn?  Amusement?  Not the expected gratitude for his benevolence.

As they talked in the secret glen, Adrian once more turned philosopher. He was not one to hold a grudge once his wrath had been vented and duly acknowledged. “You say you come from a place far away. A place you are unable to return to. Would it take a great amount of magic to send you back to the place from whence you came?”

“Aaaaaghhhh.” MacNeill groaned, startling a brown marten that had been observing them from a safe bush. The reddish-brown rodent darted away from them with panic.

The birds had stopped singing, holding their breath after the giant’s growl of pain or frustration, Adrian couldn’t say which.

“Yes, it would take enormous amounts of both luck and energy to transport us back to our world. Magic is a matter of opinion, based on a person’s knowledge and understanding of certain laws and forces at work in the natural world.”

Adrian frowned, trying to glean sense from the explanation. “So, you are saying what I might deem magic, you would consider a natural occurrence--in your world.”

MacNeill shook his head and started laughing as if he were trying to enlighten a dull child. “I need a smoke.” He looked about him with annoyance, feeling his jacket pockets. At last, he located the ever-present pipe and tobacco pouch. “Listen, Adrian, my boy,” He struck the stone with the flint, swore at the dampness and tried again. This time, it ignited. MacNeill puffed until the pipe was lit, and pointed it at Adrian to emphasize his words. “If you’re expecting me to come out say we came here by magic, you’re not going to get it. I came from America, period. I’m an engineer, a damned good one.”

“Aye, Daniel. To that I would swear to, upon my life and the life of my mother. Think man, here in Ireland, every man, woman and child of Irish descent believes in your kind. And your presence here among us, amid the harsh rule of the English, can only be taken as a sign that you are with us in our struggles.”

“What kind might that be?” Dan asked irritably.

“The Sidhe race, the Tuatha an Danaan in Gaelic. You come from the land of Tir-na-nog, or Middle Earth, as you referred to it the night you arrived. Tara loves music, she sings strange songs of enchanted love that she alone has heard. All fairies love music. You both appeared on the night of the shipwreck, amid no survivors. Legend says the treasure of wrecked ships belongs to your race. You spoke of coming from a strange land, far, far away. A place you could only get back to with a great amount of magic—“

“You said magic, not I.”  MacNeill corrected. “I admit, it’s difficult to explain how we came to be here. We belong in another time, not another dimension, although—“

MacNeill scratched his beard thoughtfully, pondering something. “Einstein believed time took up space in the physical world.”  His voice trailed off as he waved his hand to present his theory to himself. His brows raised in concession of his own argument. “We could very well be in another dimension, another time period taking up a similar space in the physical world . . . an alternate universe existing side by side with this one?” Dan muttered to himself, ignoring Adrian as he worked out the effects of his magic spell in his own mind.  “Naw. Nope. Just a lot of Twilight Zone bullshit . . . never mind me, lad.”

“Tara has knowledge regarding the future of Ireland.” Adrian offered as further defense of his assessment of their origins. “She possesses the gift of being able to foresee future events. She claims the cause I fight for is destined to fail.” Adrian hoped Dan would either affirm or deny her words. “She claims Ireland will not gain her freedom from England for another hundred or so years.”

“Could be. She’s the historian, not me. She was working on some eighteenth century research paper when we were setting up the transmitter.” Once again, Dan left Adrian out of his musings. He stared at the undergrowth beside the stream. “It was about Ireland, some obscure rebellion? Oh . . .
Oh, shit
.”

“Why did they send you here?”

“Hell, I dunno.  A cosmic joke? Wasn’t like we planned this trip. We’re stuck here. I don’t understand how we came to be here, much less why. This kind of thing is the stuff of myths and folktales. People can’t cross over into another dimension, let alone travel through time. At least---that’s what I always believed.” Dan turned to give Adrian a worried look, as if questioning his own understanding of the truth. “And yet, here we are.” He gestured to the forest about them with both hands.  “It’s unexplainable.”

“Powerful magic brought you both here. That fact we cannot deny.” Pitying the bewildered giant, Adrian placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, whatever.” Mac Neil’s mood shifted, taking Adrian off guard as he rounded on him. “Tell me, how is it you came to marry my girl, without my permission, mind you.” The stern voice chided as Dan’s blue eyes pierced him with unveiled fury. “Level with me, lad. Tell me your little secret, and I’ll consider telling you about us.”

It was a fair trade. He could hardly blame the man for his reluctance to trust him with the daughter he married under false pretenses. If Dan Mac MacNeill was to be his ally, he should know the truth. “You claim not to know why you were sent here.” Adrian began. “A joke, a whim, a fancy, I think not.” He paused, look the man full in the face as he continued. “I believe they sent Tara to me at the time of my greatest need. They knew I would stand to lose everything if Sheriff Burke succeeded in his scheme. He wanted me to marry his daughter. No—“ Adrian cut the air with his gloved hand to emphasize his point. “No, he insisted I marry his daughter, mind you, under threat of arrest.”

“Your subversive activities as Captain Midnight?”

Adrian started, giving the man beside him a curious look.

“She told me, lad. Your secret is safe as long as my girl is safe.”

Nodding, Adrian continued his confession. “They hadn’t any proof, just rumors. Captain Midnight was my cousin, Quentin Hardwicke. He died a few years ago, mysteriously. Since then I’ve taken up the mantle of Captain Midnight. I use his name to deflect suspicion from Viscount Dillon. Sheriff Burke claims I know where to find Quentin, that I harbor him from detection on occasion at Glengarra. As he persisted in his scheme to entrap me into marrying his daughter--and I might add that marrying her would have been tantamount to giving Burke my estates, and I have no doubt he would move in as soon as possible. I would then meet with some untimely accident, leaving his daughter a widow and the heiress of Glengarra Estates.”