Legends Lake Page 14

  “I have to put away my pony—”

  “Don’t you be worrying about that. I’ll take care of it. Just for today.”

  “Thanks, Ma.” He threw his arms around her waist and hugged her. Brigid, not to be left out, grasped hold of her mother’s legs and held on tight.

  Alec watched Zoe watching the little group hug, saw the sheen in her eyes and once again experienced an almost painfully overwhelming urge to reach out to her. But while he was trying to decide exactly how to do that, she shot him a look of pure disgust, turned on her booted heel and began marching toward the house.

  “Zoe!” Seeing her new friend go, Brigid unwrapped herself from her mother and began to run after the teenager. “Wait for me!”

  Alec stood there with Kate, watching as the children disappeared into the cozy farmhouse. “Thank you,” he said.

  He was grateful when she didn’t pretend not to understand what he was referring to. “Isn’t it difficult to be a teenager?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t be reliving those years for all the tea in Ireland.”

  “Neither would I.”

  “And no wonder,” she agreed. “Seeing how you were but a boy when you were forced to grow up too soon and too fast.”

  Before he could question how it was that she knew what few others did, she went to work unhitching the pony. Deciding that it was just a lucky guess, perhaps helped out by some track gossip she might have overheard, Alec didn’t pursue the subject and instead helped her put away the tack and rub down her son’s pony.

  “Well, now,” she said when the pony was in its stall, happily munching its feed, “I suppose I’d best see if I can determine what’s bothering our dear colt.”

  Apparently word had spread throughout the stud. A half-dozen workers filed into the barn, bringing with them an air of expectancy. She’d introduced Alec around the day he’d arrived. From what he’d been able to tell, they were dependable, hardworking and absolutely devoted to their employer.

  Legends Lake’s ears flattened when Kate shut the stall door behind her.

  “I think it would be best if you stayed outside,” she suggested.

  “No way, lady. If he goes off again, you could be hurt.”

  “As could Legends Lake.” She combed her hand lingeringly, lovingly, through the colt’s sleek mane. “And we wouldn’t want that to happen, would we, darling boy?”

  There was something about the way she was stroking that long chestnut neck that caused heat to surge into Alec’s loins. Annoyed to discover that he hadn’t entirely outgrown thinking with his glands, he yanked open the door again and joined her in the close confines. “Might as well get this show on the road.”

  The stall had been cleaned after they’d left for the track. The straw Kate knelt down on was dry and yellow and fragrant with the scent of the fields. Reluctant desire quickly gave way to apprehension. It was bad enough that the stallion towered above her. When she pressed her cheek against the horse’s flank, a fist gripped Alec’s gut.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Hush,” she said softly, then began murmuring Irish words obviously meant to soothe. Her gaze grew distant. She and the horse could have been all alone, in a private world of their own.

  Tension built; there was a tingling, like lightning about to strike, beneath his flesh. It appeared he was not the only one to feel it. Legends Lake grew skittish. When the Thoroughbred’s hooves began to prance dangerously near Kate’s bent legs, a murmur of anxiety skimmed through the onlookers.

  “Okay, that’s it. You’re getting out of here. Now.”

  Alec reached to drag her out of the stall, but Kate shoved away his arm. “You mustn’t be spoiling things when we’re so close to the answer.”

  “Dammit, Kate—”

  “Please, Alec.” She tipped her head back to look up at him with solemn eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”

  A storm had begun to roll in from the sea. Outside, lightning flashed across the sky; inside, Legends Lake fretfully tossed his head and rolled his huge brown eyes as Kate continued to whisper to him through her fingertips.

  She could feel his blood churning beneath his skin. She sensed his building fear; tasted the acrid tang of it on her tongue, as he whinnied and pranced.

  Kate was vaguely aware of Alec’s voice, harsh and demanding, no doubt repeating his earlier warning. A warning she could not, in good conscience, heed.

  She’d been drawn to the American horse trainer from the moment she’d sensed him striding toward her across the meadow, as bold and brash as one of Ireland’s ancient warrior kings. He could have been Finn mac Coul, fearless leader of the famed Fenians of old. Or Brian Boru, the strongest, bravest, wisest man in all Ireland, who came from this same place and would, as The Lion of Ireland, lead his country to its golden era in the late tenth century.

  The attraction to the MacKenna had grown, forging new links with each passing day, binding her to him in ways she’d have to think about later. When she could slip away to the sacred grove and clear her head and open her heart.

  But now, consumed by a need far more vital than that of her own womanly desires, Kate closed her mind to the man and opened it to the colt.

  It was hot. So hot. Sparks skittered along her nerve endings, licked at her arms, raced like wildfire up her spine and across her shoulders. Orange flames with blue centers flickered beneath her closed eyelids.

  Legends Lake’s nervous whinnies turned to screams of primal fear. As she breathed in the acrid scent of smoke, Kate held on tightly to him and merged his tumultuous thoughts with hers.

  There was fire. Red hot and rising. It surrounded her, blazed its way beneath her skin, scorching her from the inside out.

  There was noise. Harsh and deafening, the thunder of stampeding hoofbeats, the roar of flames racing through the hayloft overhead, the screeches of trapped animals, the shouts of humans, the wail of sirens in the distance.

  Remembered traumas poured from the horse in painful heat waves, rising higher and higher, until Kate was engulfed in the conflagration.

  Pain sparked between them, electric surges from Legends Lake to Kate and back again, as both became trapped in the terrifying memories. Refusing to give in to the torment that would have knocked her off her feet if she hadn’t already been kneeling, Kate continued to run her hot and blistered hands over Legends Lake’s neck, his side, his flanks and down his legs, absorbing his nearly insufferable misery, taking it beneath her skin, deep into the very marrow of her bones, which were threatening to melt.

  Horrifically, there was more. Remembered fear was flowing through her veins in boiling molten rivers; terror exploded behind her eyes like a newly born star. Heat roared around her, in her.

  Alec watched Kate’s breathing become faster, shallower. Her eyes were glazed and unseeing as she chanted strange and lyrical words he could not understand.

  Prayers to ancient gods? Reassurance to the horse? Or both? Her complexion, naturally the color of cream, turned ashen. Her skin glistened even as Legends Lake became lathered, making them both appear to have run a long and hard-fought race. As impossible as he knew it to be, as Alec watched in disbelief, whatever fear the horse was experiencing appeared to become a living, breathing thing the colt and Kate were suffering together.

  The horse lashed out with a hoof, the sharp kick just missing her head and splintering the side of the stall. Alec had tried to humor Kate, but no longer gave a damn what the fool woman wanted. The time had come to get her out of the stall before she got herself killed.

  The colt threw back his huge head. The cords in his neck stood out in harsh relief as he let loose with an ear-splitting, heart-shattering scream. A scream that was echoed by Kate. Her clouded blue eyes rolled back into her head. Then she went limp.

  Alec scooped her into his arms just as the colt’s strong legs folded beneath him and he crumpled to the straw where she had been kneeling.

  The world was spinning. Kate’s flesh turned to ic
e, even as the flames of pain she’d drawn from the horse continued to burn through her.

  Hot and cold.

  Dark and light.

  Good and evil.

  The contrasts warred within her, clashing with wicked, killing blows that reverberated inside her head. She felt herself lifted into the air. She was vaguely aware of her face being pressed against the unyielding wall of the MacKenna’s broad chest, of inarticulate words that sounded as if they were coming from far beyond the mortal realm.

  She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were as heavy as anvils. Attempted to speak, but the smoke had burned her throat and her cracked lips were unable to form the words.

  She was struggling to remain conscious, to return to her own world, when a sooty black mist floated over her eyes. Her strength depleted, her will sapped, Kate ceased fighting and surrendered to the darkness.

  14

  KATE WAS FLOATING through the Other World like a white feather dancing on a spring zephyr. The land in which she traveled was filled with miraculous wonders designed to dazzle both eyes and soul.

  Ancient kings and queens she recognized from childhood tales rode in flower bedecked chariots pulled by white horses with gilt ribbons woven through their flowing manes. Faerie palaces boasting bowers of sparkling crystal and lime-white walls rose on the banks of a sapphire ocean, where sea horses glistened in the glow of the summer sun that was being pulled across the world in the gold sun-ship of myth.

  Gilt- and copper-leafed trees, crowned with frothy pastel blossoms and heavy with fruit so ripe and sweet it could make the gods weep, bent low to hilly fields where white cattle grazed in abundance; gossamer winged faeries drank mead from the mouths of fragrant flowers.

  Silver salmon leapt in rivers that poured forth honey and mead; on glassy loughs charmed, snowy-winged swans became beautiful golden-haired princesses in the wink of an eyelash, while in the shadows of tall, round towers, wispy-haired frail men, their stooped backs bent over hawthorn walking sticks, were reborn into the warriors of their youth.

  Enchanted music strummed on three-string gilt harps drifted on perfumed air, entertaining the revelers as they feasted at tables groaning with magic platters kept continually full, and toasted with hammered goblets that never went dry.

  It was a glorious place. A welcoming land, free of the cares or strife of the mortal realm. Were it not for her children, who had remained on the other side of the filmy curtain, Kate could have happily lingered there forever.

  Araven, bright-eyed and glossy-winged, flew down from the top of an apple tree and landed on her shoulder. “It’s not your time, Kate O’Sullivan. You must return to your own world. To those who need you.”

  All those in that glittering emerald and gilt land echoed the black bird’s words. “To those who need you.” The god-king, a bold, strong giant with hair and beard the color of flame, lifted his tankard. “Go home, Kate.” His voice, which boomed like summer thunder, was not unkind. “To your wee ones. And the new life that awaits you.”

  “Aye.” What a glorious thought that was: a new life. Glorious and, she thought as she felt herself being pulled back through the misty realm, frightening, as well. “I’ll go.”

  The curtain lifted. Then, as in the barn, everything went black.

  When Kate opened her eyes again, she was in her bed. The room was draped in the deep purple shadows of dusk, suggesting that she’d been asleep for several hours. The growing dark seemed particularly hard to penetrate after the sun-drenched visions of her fanciful dream and Kate blinked several times to clear her vision.

  “It’s about time you woke up,” a deep voice, not unlike that of the red-haired god-king, rumbled nearby. She turned her head and viewed the MacKenna sitting in a nearby chair.

  “I’m sorry.” She pushed her tumbled hair back from her forehead and hitched herself up in bed. She was wearing one of her nightgowns, a chaste enough garment, white with hand-tatted lace at the rounded neckline, an ankle-length hem and long sleeves. But the intimacy of the situation made her feel exposed. “How long have I been sleeping?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it sleeping.” His expression was a great deal more grim than that of the dream king’s. “But you’ve been out like a light for twenty-nine hours and”—he glanced down at his leather-banded watch—“forty-eight, no, make that forty-nine minutes.”

  “Surely that’s not possible?”

  “Surely it is.”

  “Where are my children?”

  “Safe and sound at your sister-in-law’s. She assured me that slipping into a coma isn’t normal practice. Even for you.”

  “Of course it’s not. How could you be thinking such a thing?”

  “When it comes to you, sweetheart, I’m not sure what to think.”

  The word may be an endearment, but his grave tone suggested he’d not meant it as such.

  “The doctor was here, too. I wanted to send you to the hospital in Galway, but she assured me, over several house calls, that your vital signs were strong and that you’d recover from whatever spell you were under in your own time.”

  “Erin’s an excellent physician.”

  “That’s pretty much what all the doctors I called in the States said.”

  “You investigated her?”

  “Hell, yes. Castlelough, as charmingly quaint as it may be, isn’t exactly the center of the medical universe. You were unconscious; how was I supposed to know whether or not she was competent to deal with the situation?”

  “She must have been livid.” Kate had never seen Erin lose her temper. But she also knew how seriously she took her profession.

  “On the contrary. In fact, she was the one who suggested I call for references and gave me the names.”

  “Oh. Well.” Feeling oddly exhausted for someone who’d slept around the clock, Kate sank back against the pillows. “That was nice of you to care.”

  “Nice had nothing to do with it. I told you, my immediate future depends on getting Legends Lake fit to race. Since you seem to hold the key to that, it’s in my best interests to take care of you.”

  His tone was gritty, his face closed and shuttered. Even so, Kate did not have to read his mind to know that he was confused, frustrated and angry. She also considered the fact that she was not afraid of this very vexed man hovering over her bed was proof of how far she’d come since her separation.

  “What about your daughter?” Her mind labored to return to reality.

  “She’s with the other kids. She and Nora’s sister Mary hit it off right away. Apparently they share the same taste in teenage boy bands.”

  “Isn’t that nice?”

  “You’ve obviously made quite an impression on Zoe. I had a helluva time convincing her to stop hovering in your doorway and go over to the Gallaghers’.”

  “She’s a lovely girl.”

  “She was. And could be again if her life wasn’t so screwed-up.”

  “She has her father. Which is more than many children do.”

  “I’m her stepfather.”

  “So she insists. But it’s obvious that her words and feelings do not agree. You’re the father of her heart, which is what’s important.”

  He shrugged again, appearing uncomfortable with such personal conversation. “You must be hungry. Nora brought over some food when she picked up the kids. I’ll go heat it up. And make a pot of tea.”

  She tried to remember the last time a man had cooked for her—had even merely heated up a meal—and realized that no man had ever stepped into her kitchen except to be fed. “You needn’t bother, I’m feeling much better.”

  “Good for you.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what the hell happened out there in the barn, but you scared me half to death and since I don’t want to have to deal with you passing out on me again, you’re going to stay right here until the doc says you’re strong enough to get out of bed.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a bit of an overreaction?”

&nb
sp; “No, I don’t. Are you always this argumentative?”

  His question brought back Brian’s accusation and had her taking a moment to think about it. “Only when I feel strongly about something.”

  “Like the faerie tree and Legends Lake.”

  “Aye.”

  He gave her a long, unfathomable look.

  “I believe I know what happened to him,” Kate said.

  “I suppose you expect me to believe you discovered the truth during that mind-melding session?”

  “If I recall my American television programs correctly, it’s Vulcans who mind-meld. My sense of Legends Lake’s problems is more of images than specific, detailed knowledge. But I believe it may be a start.”

  He stared at her for another suspended moment, during which time Kate nearly forgot to breathe, then he shook his head and left the room.

  It was goddamned impossible, Alec assured himself as he put the kettle on to boil. He took the pot of soup Nora Gallagher had brought over out of the refrigerator and turned the heat up under it. He didn’t believe in psychics, magic, or things that went bump in the night. And he damn well didn’t believe in witches. Even ones who looked like faeries and smelled like enchanted forests.

  He’d found the tea earlier, on a shelf above the stove in a milky white porcelain canister shaped like a unicorn.

  The black wall phone rang. Knowing it was the only one in the house, he scooped it up so she wouldn’t go leaping out of bed to answer it.

  “O’Sullivan residence.”

  “So, how’s it going?” Pete’s gravelly voice was a welcome familiarity.

  Knowing that he was referring to the horse, Alec opted not to mention the unnerving incident with Kate. “He ran some test trials like a champ. Then took to the air.”

  “Shit.”

  “My feelings exactly.”

  “So the Irish horse whisperer isn’t working out?”

  “Not yet.” Steam began to whistle from the copper dragon-shaped spout. Alec pulled the kettle from the burner and cut the blue flame. “She says she may have a handle on what turned him glitchy.”