Read Online Irish Moon by Amber Scott - Free Book Online

what to do. Niall would care for this man, retrieve and
handle Heremon’s body. She couldn’t do it, none of it. She
wouldn’t.
    “I don’t see how that pertains to any of this
or how Heremon may help us now. I’m going for help. Stay or leave,
just don’t kill the man.” She strode for the door.
    “You’ll kill him yourself if you give him to
Niall.”
    She ignored his words. He was barbing her
again and she would not give in. Breanne counted her breaths and
paced them with her steps. It gave her direction and kept her mind
clear to think.
    She’d rouse Niall, bring him and whoever else
he saw fit back to this place. The pines lead to a small cluster of
birch and then to a line of oaks. The path was clear if you
focused. Focus. Remember, so you may make it back.
    “How would I kill him? I am trying to help
him. He’s the one that was ready to gorge him on the spot.” She
talked to herself to keep the anger at bay, and the guilt.
    Niall would command the situation far better
than she or Finn. Yes, he would be equally distressed by Heremon’s
death. But, he was a levelheaded man. He certainly wouldn’t kill
the man directly. He would make certain death was deserved.
    What could Finn have meant? She knew better
than to conclude he’d thrown the first lie at her that came to
mind. He was far too calculating a beast to do so.
    Think , Breanne. How could your leaving
kill the man? Would Finn complete what she thought she’d stopped?
No. She’d seen the change in him. Heard it.
    She pushed away low branches as she walked. A
branch slapped at her cheek, leaving a stinging stripe. She rubbed
at the pain, her mind on the path and Finn’s words still. Her skin
felt warm where the branch whipped her.
    Suddenly, the realization sprang to mind.
Mayhap Finn meant literally her departure would kill the stranger.
Mayhap, he needed her there. But, how could Niall be brought? She
didn’t wait for her mind to answer. She turned and went back,
moving fast and deftly back to Heremon’s home. The fever. The man
would succumb if she didn’t wait for it to break.
    She broke through the doorway and rushed to
the stranger’s side. “Has he worsened?” She felt his head. It was
cooler, much cooler. Then he didn’t need her here. She
straightened.
    Finn stood and joined her from his position
at the man’s feet. “He’s English.”
    “What? How do you know…?”
    “He spoke. Mumbled. The
worst French I’ve ever heard in a distinctly English accent. And
he’s nobility. The Irish may be the most hospitable
people , but even
hospitality has limitations when a former Brehon advisor to his
clan’s chieftain, a Druid priest of high respect, has met a
mysterious demise with an English noble in residence.”
    She wanted to say he was reaching, that the
conclusion would be based on loose evidence and that Niall had
better judgment. Surely an Englishman would mumble his native
tongue. But, Heremon’s words chose that moment to spring back into
her muddled brain. The emeralds…he is yours…tell no one. Protect
him.
    Breanne looked at the stranger’s face. No. It
couldn’t be. Not her. Not him.
    She looked at Finn, searched his eyes
suspiciously. Had he been there to hear the words and already
concluded the obvious that she always seemed to miss at first
glance? So be it.
    Breanne stood and surveyed the room. She
needed to hide him and get back to the keep. His head was cool and
he should sleep for a day with as much valerian root as she’d
ground into the mixture. “They will want to search the place. Where
can I take him?”
    Finn smiled his cat’s grin. Gloating beast.
“If you believe you can better disguise the closet, we may put him
there. Or,” Finn rolled onto his back as though to scratch it.
    “Or what?” Breanne fisted her hands into her
skirt.
    “There is a cave nearby.”
    “How close?” She knew her limitations in
successfully dragging a man this size.
    “Close. It is sacred. He will be safe