Brigid hadn’t understood him, but Murphy sure as hell spoke Welsh.
Rage simmered under the surface as he walked along the river, breathing deeply. He tucked his scarf more securely around his neck as his breath fogged in the cool night. It was midnight. He had gone to Murphy’s office directly after his meeting with the bishop, which was his first stop in town. There were few humans in sight as he crossed the bridge and headed back to his resting place. It was on the edge of one of the seedier parts of town, an old warehouse that Ioan had used at times for clinics. But it had comfortable, secure quarters hidden in it, as well. He’d planned on being in town for some time to see Brigid.
He’d missed her. He’d ached for her.
“It wasn’t fear that made my heart race.”
Not fear. Murphy. The little shit had taken his opportunity. Carwyn kept forgetting how young she was. Three months seemed like nothing to him, but it probably seemed an eternity to her. He should have called. He should have come sooner.
But three fecking months?
Was their connection really that inconsequential to her?
He heard footsteps running after him.
“Carwyn!”
It was Brigid, and he was still angry. In fact, the more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Fecking Murphy. Not fear. Murphy had been about to kiss his Brigid, and her heart was racing in excitement. The fact that the Dubliner still lived was gift enough. He didn’t need to hear her excuses.
“Carwyn, stop, damn you!”
He kept walking, turning the corner into the alley behind the warehouse.
“Who’s running now, you big brute?”
Fine.
Carwyn’s eyes narrowed as he spun around. Brigid almost crashed into his chest. His hands caught her, steadying her shoulders as she swayed. She was such a tiny thing. Tiny and furious.
And beautiful. It rushed over him then, the longing for her that had driven him in Wicklow. Driven him to find the answers that would keep her safe. Keep them all safe. But he had lost her in the process.
“Three months?” he said roughly, grabbing at the back of her neck so she was forced to look into his eyes. He pushed them up against a wall, blocking her in and cushioning her head so it didn’t touch the grimy stone. “Three months and I lose you? Three months was too long to wait?”
“Carwyn, you need to listen—”
He cut her off with a furious kiss, groaning into her mouth when she pulled him closer. He’d been so careful with her in Scotland, patient to the point of pain, but he didn’t hold back now. It might be the last time he kissed her.
Carwyn dove into the kiss with abandon. Her mouth parted and her burning tongue met his own. She clutched him closer, digging into his back as he shoved a knee between her legs, pulling her into his aching body. She was burning up. Anger? Desire? He didn’t care.
Her hands reached up to tug at his hair and he lifted her against the wall. He reached down to the curve of her hips, back, around to the soft swell of her bottom. His hands cupped, pressing the aching length of his arousal against her heat.
“Oh, God!” she cried out as he continued the assault with his lips. Tongue. His fangs ached in his jaw and he let the length of them run along the satin skin of her neck. A low rumble built in his chest as his amnis reached out to her, twining around her limbs, begging him to sink his fangs into her body and claim her.
Mine.
Not Murphy’s. His.
My mate. Mine.
Forget Murphy. He’d waited a thousand years for her and no one would love her as well as he would. Brigid was his.
He finally tore his mouth away and looked at her. She was panting. Her eyes were clouded with lust and her skin was steaming in the misty night air.
“Did you sleep with him?”
Her eyes cleared and blinked at him in confusion. Then righteous anger.
“What?”
Oh… He’d misread that one, hadn’t he?
He ducked away as Brigid swung at him.
“You ass! You think I slept with Murphy?” She shoved him back, her anger instantly killing his arousal, as he set her back on the ground.
Well, almost instantly.
She took a step forward and he backed away. “I didn’t even kiss him, you idiot! I was waiting for you! Where the hell have you been?”
“I’ve been in Wicklow. There’s been a bit going on, if you hadn’t heard.”
“I know that. You couldn’t even call?”
“You’re the one who sent me away in the first place! You wanted time; I was giving you time.”
“I’ve been back for three months.”
“Three months?” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Three months is nothing, Brigid.”
“It is to me,” she hissed. “Some of us aren’t a thousand years old.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, that much is obvious.”
“Are you implying that I’m being immature?” Her eyes narrowed. Carwyn had a feeling he needed to tread carefully.
“No… maybe a little? If you think about things from my perspective, you’re really quite young.”
Wrong thing to say. Why the hell were women so complicated? Brigid just looked more furious.
“Oh”—she stepped closer and Carwyn shrank back from the tiny bundle of mad—“so I’m just supposed to wait by the telephone until you decide to ring me? When was that going to be? A hundred years or so? And I’m supposed to put my life on hold while you’re off saving the world? How long were you in Wicklow? You couldn’t even tell me; I had to find out from my boss!”
Carwyn glued his lips together. He was fairly certain there were no right answers to those questions. Diversion tactics were necessary. He gathered his courage and lifted his hands to frame her face, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. She stopped in her tracks, looking confused.
“I’ve been in Wicklow for three months sorting through Ioan’s papers, and every minute, I wished I was with you,” he said softly. “That I could hold you and kiss you and hear your voice. I missed you, love. So much. But I knew you needed to settle in and get back to work. I didn’t want to interfere with that. And I’ve been focused on finding Ioan’s research because I think it’s important. I think there’s something very bad coming, and I’m hoping something he discovered might help stop it. I have to keep you safe. I couldn’t bear it if you were in danger.” He leaned down and whispered a kiss across her lips. “I couldn’t bear it. I have to keep you safe, Brigid. Forgive me?”
She melted under his words, and Carwyn pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she lifted her mouth for a kiss. Oh, she was a prickly one, his Brigid, but softhearted for him, and he wasn’t above using it. He knew she was in love with him. She just hadn’t let herself admit it yet.
Sweet woman. His sweet woman.
“Mmm,” he hummed into her mouth and lifted her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he leaned against the wall. “Oh, love…”
“Carwyn…” Her voice was a soft plea. “I missed you so much.” Her hands clung to him and her fingers twisted in the coarse hair that hung at the nape of his neck. She tugged at his scarf, searching for his skin.
“I missed you, too.”
Hot. She was so hot the night fog was steaming off her. He wanted to make love to her in the ocean, with the waves crashing and churning around them. He wanted to love her in the wild with the earth feeding his energy as he sank his fangs deep into her throat and thrust into her body. He wanted her forever. An eternal night lit by the glow of her fire.
“Brigid,” he breathed out as he thrilled at the feel of her lips on his neck, her fangs scraping his skin. “I want you… forever. Marry me, Brigid.”
She froze, her arms still wrapped around him, her hand buried in his collar. Slowly, she pulled away, tugging at his scarf as she slid down his body, still hard from his desire. She pulled and stepped. Pulled until the wool slipped over his shoulder, exposing the pure w
hite band underneath his jacket. He swallowed once as she stepped away and leaned against the dirty wall, squeezing her eyes shut as her head fell.
How could she have forgotten? He made it too easy to forget. What was she thinking? He was a priest. A priest who loved her. Who she loved. She knew that. Here was a man she could spend eternity loving.
Marry me, Brigid.
Her heart screamed yes, and her mind said no.
“You can’t ask me that,” she whispered.
“I had a meeting with the bishop,” he said. “That’s the only reason I wore—”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Her voice was so small she barely heard it herself. “Whether you wear it or not, it’s there. I’m pretending that you’re free when you’re not.”
“You know when I was human—”
“But you’re not human, Carwyn!” She shook her head and felt tears in the corner of her eyes. “It’s not a thousand years ago. You’re devoted to something that will never accept us being together, whatever you might wish. And being with you goes against everything that I was raised to believe. Our time in Scotland. Even being together here… we’re pretending at things that can’t happen.”
“Pretending?” His eyes narrowed. “You think I’m pretending?”
“Not about your feelings. I’m not doubting those. But as long as you wear a collar, this is not going to work. However much you might want it too.”
“Brigid, you have to—”
“Loving you is a sin,” she whispered. She wanted to bite back the words as soon as they left her mouth.
“A sin?” A hard mask fell over his face. A dull anger came to his eyes as he stepped toward her and took the scarf from her hands. He dropped it on the ground and lifted her chin. “Loving me is a sin?”
She shook her head, trying to backtrack. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Do you know what I did the night I took my vows to the church, Brigid?”
She tried pulling away, but he had boxed her in. “No. And I didn’t mean—”
“I took my vows in front of my family, with my father blessing me and my mother watching proudly. And that night, I went home with my wife. With my Efa. And we prayed together. We smiled and laughed, and I kissed every inch of her body and made love to her for hours. I lay awake the whole night with my arms wrapped around her thanking God for blessing me with such a woman. And such a calling in my heart.”
Bloody tears slipped down her cheeks, and she looked away. Carwyn brushed them from her face and leaned down to place a single, chaste kiss on her lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Love is not a sin, Brigid. There is no shame in what I feel for you. When you understand that, please let me know.”
He released her and backed away, walking farther down the alley as she stood watching him in the night. He turned after half a block and said, “I may be going to Rome soon. My friends need my help and… there are things to see to. Will you think of me?”
Would she think of anything else?
“You know I will.” Brigid took a deep breath before she asked, “Do you still love me?”
A slow smiled crooked the corner of his mouth. “Course I do. I meant what I said, Brigid. Nothing is more important to me than keeping you safe. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
“You meant what you said?” She swallowed the lump in her throat.
‘Marry me.’
She wanted to rush to him. To kiss him and hold him. To drag him back to her house and make love to him all night. But she knew it wouldn’t happen. And it shouldn’t. Not like that. Not for him.
Carwyn’s smile grew into a grin. “You know I meant every word.”
She couldn’t stop the smile that lifted the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be here. I’ll keep looking, too. Keep me updated?”
“As much as I’m able.” She started toward the opposite end of the alley, but turned when she heard his voice. “Brigid?”
“Yes?”
“Remind Murphy that I take care of what’s mine.” Then he winked and disappeared around a corner as Brigid frowned.
“Takes care of what’s ‘his?’” she muttered. “What, me? He’s talking about me? Ugh! That egotistical, bullheaded, infuriating…”
She was completely in love with him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wales
April 2012
Carwyn sat at his kitchen table, listening to the chattering of Father Samuel as he filled him in on the activities of the parish. The young priest had taken over the small cottage behind the church in town and was rapidly making changes in the village. There were church festivals planned and computer courses for adults taught by Father Samuel himself. Some of the women in the parish were using the church buildings to start childcare for the working mothers and an after-school program for the older children. The village was entering the modern age.
And the young priest was exactly the right man for the job.
Carwyn smiled and sipped the tea the young Englishman poured. Enthusiasm filled the air, and Sister Maggie was glowing. After another hour of visiting, the priest and the sister made their way back to the old house in the mountains. The moon was full over them and the ground was muddy from a spring shower that had fallen that afternoon.
“You should take a house in town,” Carwyn said. “You’ll be more use there than up at the house.”
She frowned. “Who’d watch over the place, then?”
Carwyn shrugged. “I’ll shut it up for a while. Probably best that I disappear for a bit so that the village forgets me, if you get my meaning.”
Sister Maggie halted and put a hand on his shoulder. “They still ask about you, Father.” She smiled. “The people still care.”
“I’m glad.” He put an arm over the stout woman’s shoulders and tugged her down the path. “But this is good. This is what needs to happen, I think. The village was dying, Maggie. I’d taken care of it as well as I could, but in this age, it needed… something more. Someone human. Someone who could take a bigger part in the whole community, not just shepherd the church.”
“Are you going away, then? Permanently?” Her eyes wore a worried frown.
“Well… mostly.” He paused. “I think there’s a new calling for me, Sister. There are things in my life that I’ve put off. People who need me.”
They both fell silent for a few moments. Finally, she said, “You’re leaving the church, aren’t you?”
“I think I am.”
“Is it a crisis of faith, Father? Do you need counsel? I often feel that there is so little wisdom I could share with you, but I can offer a willing ear.”
“Ah, Maggie.” He squeezed her shoulder. “What a fine friend you are. It’s not a crisis of faith. Just a change in calling. Since Ioan’s death, I’ve been unsettled.”
“How?” They approached the old stone house and a thin trail of smoke snaked out of the chimney. It was still chilly at night, so Carwyn was happy he’d left the fire burning for the sister. As vigorous as Maggie was, she was getting older, too. She often seemed to ache in the mornings, though she never complained.
“I think I realized that, by trying to be all things, I was truly being none. I was pulled in too many directions. And…” He pulled the door open for her. “I’m… lonely.”
A glint came into her eyes. “You’ve met a woman, haven’t you?”
He cleared his throat. “I—why do you say that?”
Sister Maggie snickered. “Because you didn’t deny it immediately.”
“Oh, fishing for information, are we? There is… someone. I think.”
The sister smiled and unpinned the cloak she wore around her old grey dress. “I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long. You’ve far more self-control than most men, particularly with all the attention the fairer sex has given you over the years.”
Carwyn unwrapped his jacket, loosening the tight collar he’d worn for Father Samuel’s benefit while they met. He could at least pretend to be proper… u
ntil he abandoned it completely.
“For your information, Sister, I had determined to leave the ministry—mostly—before the woman happened.”
“And what happened?” She grabbed two beers and opened them, handing him one as they sat across from each other at the scarred kitchen table. The same table where they’d counseled each other, harassed each other, and joked for over thirty years. Carwyn smiled as he raised his beer. “Cheers.”
He would miss her. He would miss them all.
“It’s time,” he said quietly. “One thousand, forty-four years ago, I was turned into an immortal in these mountains. It wasn’t a day’s walk from here, Maggie. I’d been traveling from our community to another in the North. My mother and father were watching the children. My wife had died the previous spring and I was in a deep melancholy, so my father sent me on an errand. A simple errand.” His eyes drifted toward the fire, lost in his thoughts. “It should have been simple. But the storm hit very suddenly. The snow covered the path and I tripped in a hole.”
He shrugged. “A simple thing now. A broken leg. Go to the physician and have it set. But then, I was alone on my journey. I’d wanted it that way. I passed out from the pain after some time and when I woke, I’d lost my sense of direction. But I could see smoke in the distance, so I went toward it.” He ran a hand roughly through his shaggy hair. “Maelona was there. And I was dying. I wanted to live. No matter what.”
Sister Maggie was watching him carefully. “You still want to live, Carwyn. Perhaps more than any person I have ever met. You love life. You love your family. And now you love another, don’t you?”
His voice was hoarse. “With my whole heart.”
“Of course you would. You love everything that way, don’t you?” She smiled, drained her beer, and patted his hand. “So, what’s her name?”
“Brigid.” Just the name made him ache with longing.
“A good name. A saint and a goddess. Straddling two worlds. A powerful name.” Maggie nodded in approval. “Brigid was a leader. A protector. She held the fire of knowledge in her hands. And she is an immortal?”
“Yes, a young one.”