On his lips, even her name sounded sweeter than when others said it. «Shivonne,» he murmured. «Tell me!»

«It’s not much of a test, not really. Not for a. a skilled hunter like you. A huge wolf they’ve named Airgead has been killing the shepherds’ late lambs. They are terrified of it. It is twice as big as a wolfhound, according to those who’ve seen it. You must find the wolf and bring back its pelt, to prove that you’ve slain the brute.»

«And after?» His eyes searched her face. His gaze was intent, his expression stern.

Siobhan swallowed. Her betrothed was a little intimidating, if truth were told. Despite those laughing blue eyes, that disarming grin, he would not be a good man to cross, she sensed, nor one to lie to.

«Siobhan?» he repeated. «What then?»

«And then, I shall name a date for our wedding,» she promised.

Again, she would not meet his eyes.

He hooked his finger under her chin and turned her face smartly upwards, forcing her shamrock eyes to meet his. «Do you swear it, my love?»

She crossed the fingers of both hands so that her lie wouldn’t count as a sin. «I swear.»

She had not been baptized a Christian but there was no sense in taking chances.

He nodded. «Good enough, my lady. I shall leave at dawn on the morrow.»

And with that, Colm gathered her into his arms and kissed her witless.

Four

The following morn dawned fine and clear. The sun shone, and everywhere was green and vibrant. It seemed impossible that winter would soon be hard upon them.

Siobhan ordered food to be prepared for her suitor’s journey. Dried venison, oatcakes, skins of wine and mead. She watched as the provisions were loaded on to the pack ponies.

Colm’s hounds — great shaggy wolfhounds that wore spiked leather collars — milled excitedly about the courtyard, yelping and fighting their handlers’ restraint.

The horses, saddled and fresh after a good night’s rest and a few handfuls of grain, were tossing their heads so that bits and bridles jingled.

Finally, Colm’s huge black horse, Dibh, was led out by its groom. Its master, looking the worse for wear after a night spent out-drinking her father, strode from the hall.

He swung himself easily into the Spanish saddle of fine red leather, then saluted Siobhan and her father.

The old chieftain seemed confused.

«Why are ye leaving so soon, my boy?» the old man demanded, scowling up at Colm through rheumy bloodshot eyes. «You promised me a game of chess, don’t you recall?»

«You had best ask that question of your daughter, my lord father,» Colm said, casting Siobhan a pointed look. «I’ll be back for you soon, Siobhan,» he murmured, leaning low in the saddle to lift her hand to his lips. «And when I return, ye’ll be mine in every way. My word on it.»

«I shall be here, my lord. Hurry back to me, for I cannot wait to be your bride!» It was true, at least in part. She could not wait to see him again.

Aislinn fanned herself with her hand as her mistress’ suitor, his kinsmen and his servants rode forth from Glenkilly keep, hooves clattering against the cobbles.

«Oh, the way he looked at you, my lady. Why, he fairly gobbled you up with his eyes. I thought I should swoon!»

«I don’t think ‘gobbling’ was quite what he had in mind,» Siobhan murmured, her own hand flying nervously to her throat. A wicked half-smile played about her lips. Imagining what her betrothed was thinking left her almost as breathless as his kisses.

«What was it your man said last night?» Lord Diarmaid frowned. «Something about a giant wolf. What wolf did he mean, Siobhan? And what late lambs was he talking about? Is the poor lad tetched in the head, then?»

«It is nothing to worry about, Father. Truly. I’ve taken care of it. Go and rest, now, dear man. You look tired,» she urged, shepherding him back inside to the comfort of his carved chair and the fireside.

If truth be told, she was still vexed with her father. He had not told her that he had set her bride price, nor that he was accepting offers for her hand. Instead, she had been the very last to know of his plans for her.

Still, it was possible the old fellow had forgotten the arrangements he’d made, just as he’d forgotten to tell her about them. Lately, he forgot a great many things, including that her mother was dead. He would spend ages wandering the keep, looking for her, calling her name.

«Rest, ye say? But, I just got up,» the old fellow grumbled in protest. «Did I not, Siobhan?» Nowadays, he could never be sure.

After the old man had been settled comfortably before the hearth with his drinking cup — the hollowed skull of one of his enemies, polished and set with precious jewels — in one fist, and a wineskin within easy reach of the other, Aislinn drew Siobhan aside.

«What are you going to do when Lord Colm returns, my lady? You’ll have to marry him then. You won’t be able to keep putting him off. He won’t let you, not that one.» Aislinn would love to see her mistress given her comeuppance by Colm mac Connor.

«No,» said Siobhan with a rueful smile. The back of her hand still tingled from his farewell kiss. She shivered. «He won’t.»

«Then whatever shall ye do?»

«I don’t know.» Siobhan sighed. «I suppose I must cross that bridge when I come to it.»

Siobhan fretted and worried about Colm mac Connor for the next three days. She could not sleep a wink for thinking of him! And with every passing moment, she came to love him just a little bit more, although she had known him only a short while.

She had heard it was possible to fall in love with a man at first sight, but had not believed it — until now. Now, she thought it was quite possible, quite possible indeed.

She dreamed of Colm, too, when she finally fell into a fitful sleep. Dreamed of how it had felt to lie beneath him in the forest, his weight heavy on her. Of the taste of his mouth, and the scent of his skin. Aye, and she burned for him, ached for him, as she lay in her bed, alone.

She pretended the soft fur of her coverlet was his passionate embrace, its heavy weight his powerful arms enfolding her. And she wept with longing.

By the fourth day, she was sick with worry. Had she sent Colm to his death? Would he be attacked by a giant wolf that had not been seen on her father’s lands for at least a half-decade or more? Would he and his party be set upon by murdering brigands, or attacked by a ferocious wild boar? Would they all be killed because of this wild goose — wild wolf — chase she’d invented?

«It is no use! I cannot just sit here and wait, Aislinn!» she wailed. «I am grown ill with worry for my dearest lord. I must see with my own eyes that he is well.»

«Hmph. Ye should have thought of that before you sent him away, I’m thinking,» the serving wench muttered.

«What? What was that?» Siobhan demanded, sharply yanking one of Aislinn’s tawny braids. «Tell me, or I’ll pinch you!»

«Ouch! Nothing, my lady. Nothing. I was just humming a jig. The one Lord Colm’s cousin, Finn, played at your betrothal, remember?» But then she saw what Siobhan was up to. «Oh, no, mistress! You’re not going to do it again?»

But she was.

«On wings of white / Pray, let me fly!» Siobhan chanted softly, her green eyes gleaming in the rushlight. «Mistress of / The azure sky! / By the magic / In my blood / Change me!» As it did whenever Siobhan cast her shape-shifting spells, the air grew very still. It was as if the bower was holding its breath.

Aislinn held her breath, too.

The fire on the hearthstone ceased snapping and crackling.

The shadows on the walls leaped up, became dragons, giants, wizards and other monstrous creatures.

Aislinn heard tinkling in the distance, like fairy laughter, or the chiming of tiny bells. Sounds that came from the Otherworld.

The fine hairs rose on the back of her neck as light streamed from Siobhan’s fingertips. Eyes closed now, like a priestess of the Moon, lost in a trance, Siobhan beckoned the light to come to her, to surround her.

And it came.

The golden aura slowly expanded, until it limned Siobhan from head to toe.

A second later, she melted into the deep shadows and was gone!

Straightway, Aislinn heard a fierce whirring of wings. Something heavy — something alive — landed on Aislinn’s shoulder. She screamed, and tried to bat it off her with her fists.

«Stop!» she heard Siobhan’s sharp command in her head. «Stop, Aislinn, else I’ll change you into a mouse and eat you!»

Aislinn stopped flailing, although the snowy hawk’s sharp talons dug painfully into her flesh.

She had no fondness for birds. Nor did she like the way this one perched on her shoulder, peering at her right eyeball with its own beady ones as if selecting a tasty morsel for its supper.

Aislinn jerked her head to one side, as far from the hawk’s beak as she could get. «As you will, my lady. Oh, there’s a bloody mark upon your. your wing!»

«Enough! Carry me outside where I may fly free!»

The sun was setting in the west when Aislinn went out into the courtyard, carrying the heavy white hawk on her wrist.

«You must tell everyone I am sick with heartache that my lord has gone. Tell them I have taken to my bed,» Siobhan instructed, «and cannot be comforted.»

«How long will you be gone?» Aislinn wondered aloud, imagining the merry times she could have with her friends while her mistress was away.

«As long as it takes. And while I’m gone, you can busy yourself sorting and hanging the herbs we gathered. Take the acorns to the mill for grinding into flour. Oh, and spread fresh rushes in my bower, too. Now, what was that about a red mark on my wing?»