Free Celtic Shores by Delaney Rhodes Page A

and the pier was complete. It hadn’t taken as long as they imagined it would, and with the help of some of the O’Malley men, they finished construction on the second small ship just the day before.
    Parkin was leaving for O’Malley port in a few days, and would return with goods and wares to sell in the shops and market area being built near the shore. Business with the O’Malley’s would be good, and their shipping enterprise would introduce them to new and exciting merchandises and people from around the world.
    Breacan was pleased. He was proud of his son Patrick, who was by now the Lord of O’Malley territory and husband to Dallin’s eldest daughter, Darina. Payton, his youngest, was sent with fifty fighting men to establish a strong militia in the region and to protect his brother’s new position.
    It was Parkin that gave him the most grief. He would never make a reasonable marriage match with Parkin. He knew it, Parkin knew it and everyone else knew it as well. The time for Parkin to grow up had come and gone. The thought of sending Parkin to his mother’s family in Scotland crossed Breacan’s mind once too often, and today…it was back…and it was stuck there.
    Breacan entered his chambers with his head held low and the look of defeat clearly written on his face. Airard followed him with a trencher of venison and two mugs of ale which he set upon the side table in Breacan’s solar.
    “My Lord, Laird MacCahan, have ye any news of me mathair?” asked Macklin sheepishly, holding his sleeping baby sister in his arms and rocking her back and forth in front of the hearth.
    “Come here son,” replied Breacan. “Lay yer seesta down there on the mat, we have much to discuss.”
    ***
    Odetta gasped, and struggled against the weight which held her head down, and the hands which clenched tightly around her neck cutting off her airway. Terror stopped her heart and sucked the air from her lungs. She knew better than to look up into the cold gray eyes of her captor, but she couldn’t help herself.
    Nearly three weeks since she last encountered the Visitor and she still couldn’t get the stench of sulfur and rotten wood out of her head. She wanted to sit up, to grab something—anything to distract the Visitor, but found nothing. Only when she came fully to the realization that she was at his mercy and she was able to let go with her mind, to submit, did he relent.
    Sleep eluded her constantly. Perhaps it was eluding her, perhaps she was unwilling to succumb. That was more like it. Since that first time, as a small child, when the Visitor found her by the lake; she remained in fear for her life and in solitude—unwilling to draw anyone else into her horror.
    She even spared her own brother, by taking his very life. Not willing to let the Visitor have him, she did the only thing she could think of. Cynbel would not be his host, not while she still drew breath. Even when she sent her sister away, she was being merciful. The Visitor had plans for her as well and Odetta wouldn’t let that happen, not if she had anything to do with it.
    The bleak, echoing, melancholic brogue of the Visitor split her head in two. Had she the power, she would have taken her own life, years ago. Subservient. Controlled. Beneath. These were the words her unholy Visitor used.
    Immortal . That’s the one that gave her the greatest sorrow. Immortal and helpless. Forever controlled by the Visitor and his dark forces. Cursed to do his bidding, whatever his evil mind could conceive. It was better they all thought her insane than know the truth.
    “Rise,” he commanded, after letting go of his grasp of her neck and rising from the bed.
    She gasped for air when his heavy arms left their place on her head. She only dozed off for a mere moment; and there he was as usual. Tears of rage filled her eyes, and she struggled to see.
    Rising from the bed, she caught the stench and knew he was near. Fear overtook her and she began to shake. It was soon