Goblin Moon by Candace Sams Page A

me?” Tearach bit out as he neared their location.
    "You'll cease these nightly wanderings of yours, stay home and take care of business, Tearach. When it's your turn to stand guard, someone will be sent to fetch you. Do you understand?"
    He responded with a silent glare.
    "Furthermore, Cairna will be staying at the castle,” Shayla informed him. She raised her hand to stop his ready protest. “When you've done your duty to your people, Cairna may return home and not before."
    Tearach couldn't believe what he was hearing. What would the Sorceress have him do? Throw Kathy to the ground and have his way with her? Forcing them to live together wasn't going to solve the problem. Kathy wasn't ever going to comply even if he wanted to. And he most certainly did not.
    "Cairna, get some things together. You'll be leaving with me,” Shayla instructed.
    Cairna murmured her response and went inside the cottage. Kathy kept quiet, trying to ignore her growing sense of apprehension. She'd been alone with Tearach before, but not in such close proximity as the cottage allowed. Still, his mutinous expression at Shayla's pronouncement should have calmed her fears. To get the situation over with, however, he might just do whatever he deemed necessary.
    Kathy stood on one side of the garden gate and Tearach on the other. Neither of them spoke as Shayla, her staff, and Cairna left. His glacial expression assured Kathy that he found the scene distasteful, embarrassing and infuriating. Would he take that anger out on her?
    Ignoring Kathy, Tearach stormed through the gate, threw the door to the cottage open and went inside. In the kitchen, there was a large bottle of very old whiskey. Assuming Cairna had replenished his stock, he only intended to have one drink to take the edge off his roiling emotions. The whole Order would hear of this. He'd either be the object of pity or a joke. People would talk for weeks about how the Sorceress had forced him home to bed the outsider. It was too humiliating for words. The last of his pride was being stripped away like old wall paper.
    "What are you doing?” Kathy asked as she watched him toss down half a tumbler of the whisky.
    "I should have thought that was obvious.” He reached into the cupboard, pulled down another glass and offered it to her. To his surprise, she took it and poured herself a large measure of the golden liquid. For some strange reason, the whiskey sent a tingling sensation down his windpipe long after it had been swallowed. He'd never remembered spirits affecting him thus. Uncharacteristically, he found he wanted yet another glass of the strong alcohol.
    "What's this all about? Why does Shayla seem so intent on getting you and me into bed?"
    He picked up the bottle and moved toward the living room. Kathy waited as he lowered his large frame onto the sofa, and then she sat in a comfortable chair across from him. Tearach stared into his glass and seemed to contemplate his response. She sipped her own drink and winced as it burned its way down her trachea. But the stuff immediately warmed her whole body. It seemed she'd never had whiskey that was so full-bodied and inviting. She immediately wanted more.
    "Eight years. Eight long, damnable years,” he muttered.
    "Tell me,” she encouraged. It seemed like he wouldn't answer. He filled his glass a second time before the story began.
    "Eight years ago, my people journeyed to a sacred site in Exmoor. It was the time for celebrating Lughnasadh , or the festival of first harvest. Our traditions mean everything to us. The way we dress, our religion, the length of our hair, and our rites of celebration are all that's left of our ancient ways. We cherish and honor them even unto death.” His voice softened, and he stared into the distance as he took another drink. The alcohol was amazingly enticing.
    Kathy kept very still. Tearach was in another place and time. She desperately wanted to know the reason for her being in this strange situation.