fine. The soft aroma clung to Meaghan’s skin and mixed with her own seductive scent to cloud his brain, making him want to press closer, to breathe her in.
“Why were you angry when you found out Colleen was my grandmother?”
Her question snapped him from his thoughts and cleared the haze from his mind. “I wasn’t angry. I was . . . disconcerted by the revelation. First you appear and render me invisible, and then she revealed who she was to you. It felt . . . conspired.”
“I was just as stunned as you were, Áedán. I don’t know why I’m here, now , in my grandmother’s time.”
“But you do know why you were sucked into the world of Fennore. You know why Cathán took you captive.”
“Do I? Well that’s news to me.”
He couldn’t tell if she lied or spoke the truth. He said, “Your family has been linked to the Book of Fennore for many years.”
“How do you know that?”
“How is not important. What you should be asking is why? Why are you linked?”
“You know Cathán MacGrath was my mother’s first husband.”
He nodded. She’d revealed this when Cathán held them prisoners. Cathán had thought her someone of use to him, and Áedán was certain his interest in her went beyond a familial relationship. Countless prophesies and myths entwined with the tales of the Book of Fennore—so many that even Áedán did not know which were truth and which were fable. At first he’d suspected that Cathán thought Meaghan was the woman who could open the Book and release all who were trapped in the unnatural world of Fennore. He’d been wrong. But who was she? What gift did Cathán think she had?
“Cathán was your mother’s husband, but he is not your father,” Áedán said. “Correct?”
“Exactly.”
As if that explained everything.
“That is not reason enough for you to have been pulled in by the Book of Fennore. Cathán had another motive for keeping you captive.”
“Fecking revenge was his motive,” she said with a haughty arch of her brows. “He’s a tosser that my mother couldn’t get away from fast enough. It pissed him off that she married my dad and had me. She was pregnant before Cathán was even out of the picture. You heard him when he figured out who I was. He called my dad a filthy fisherman, like that was the worst thing imaginable. I hope he’s trapped in there forever. I hope he rots and dies in that hellish world.”
“He won’t die.”
“Of course he will. Everyone dies.”
“Not where he is. But he will grow more powerful. He will do whatever he can to escape.”
“And what are you? A fecking Book of Fennore-ologist?”
Yes, he supposed he was. “I know people,” he said. “A man cornered with no options will do anything to survive. Use anyone.”
“I won’t say you don’t have a point. But for all we know, he’s out already. He could have followed us. He could be here, now. Just waiting to make his move.”
“No,” Áedán said. “I would know.”
“Is that a fact? You’re also a psychic now, are you? Seeing the future?”
“I don’t need to see it to know it’s there, do I?”
She made a dismissive sound, but that telltale pulse beat furiously at her throat. After a moment, she said, “The Book of Fennore is evil.”
Her glance was lightning fast, but in it he glimpsed the terror that her defiance worked so hard to hide. He wondered what she saw in his eyes before he looked away.
For a thousand years or more, humans had rumbled about the evil inside the Book of Fennore. Blind fools, they didn’t understand that the evil came not only from the Book, but from the greed and lust for power that they brought with each wish. Yes, there had been some who came innocent and needing, but they had been as rare as red diamonds, and they had sold their souls as readily as the twisted monsters who thought to use his gifts for their own selfish needs. Wealth. Power. Women. He’d grown so weary of their pathetic pleas.
“Few would
“Why were you angry when you found out Colleen was my grandmother?”
Her question snapped him from his thoughts and cleared the haze from his mind. “I wasn’t angry. I was . . . disconcerted by the revelation. First you appear and render me invisible, and then she revealed who she was to you. It felt . . . conspired.”
“I was just as stunned as you were, Áedán. I don’t know why I’m here, now , in my grandmother’s time.”
“But you do know why you were sucked into the world of Fennore. You know why Cathán took you captive.”
“Do I? Well that’s news to me.”
He couldn’t tell if she lied or spoke the truth. He said, “Your family has been linked to the Book of Fennore for many years.”
“How do you know that?”
“How is not important. What you should be asking is why? Why are you linked?”
“You know Cathán MacGrath was my mother’s first husband.”
He nodded. She’d revealed this when Cathán held them prisoners. Cathán had thought her someone of use to him, and Áedán was certain his interest in her went beyond a familial relationship. Countless prophesies and myths entwined with the tales of the Book of Fennore—so many that even Áedán did not know which were truth and which were fable. At first he’d suspected that Cathán thought Meaghan was the woman who could open the Book and release all who were trapped in the unnatural world of Fennore. He’d been wrong. But who was she? What gift did Cathán think she had?
“Cathán was your mother’s husband, but he is not your father,” Áedán said. “Correct?”
“Exactly.”
As if that explained everything.
“That is not reason enough for you to have been pulled in by the Book of Fennore. Cathán had another motive for keeping you captive.”
“Fecking revenge was his motive,” she said with a haughty arch of her brows. “He’s a tosser that my mother couldn’t get away from fast enough. It pissed him off that she married my dad and had me. She was pregnant before Cathán was even out of the picture. You heard him when he figured out who I was. He called my dad a filthy fisherman, like that was the worst thing imaginable. I hope he’s trapped in there forever. I hope he rots and dies in that hellish world.”
“He won’t die.”
“Of course he will. Everyone dies.”
“Not where he is. But he will grow more powerful. He will do whatever he can to escape.”
“And what are you? A fecking Book of Fennore-ologist?”
Yes, he supposed he was. “I know people,” he said. “A man cornered with no options will do anything to survive. Use anyone.”
“I won’t say you don’t have a point. But for all we know, he’s out already. He could have followed us. He could be here, now. Just waiting to make his move.”
“No,” Áedán said. “I would know.”
“Is that a fact? You’re also a psychic now, are you? Seeing the future?”
“I don’t need to see it to know it’s there, do I?”
She made a dismissive sound, but that telltale pulse beat furiously at her throat. After a moment, she said, “The Book of Fennore is evil.”
Her glance was lightning fast, but in it he glimpsed the terror that her defiance worked so hard to hide. He wondered what she saw in his eyes before he looked away.
For a thousand years or more, humans had rumbled about the evil inside the Book of Fennore. Blind fools, they didn’t understand that the evil came not only from the Book, but from the greed and lust for power that they brought with each wish. Yes, there had been some who came innocent and needing, but they had been as rare as red diamonds, and they had sold their souls as readily as the twisted monsters who thought to use his gifts for their own selfish needs. Wealth. Power. Women. He’d grown so weary of their pathetic pleas.
“Few would
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