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  The Witch’s Daughter

  The Irish Witch Series

  Book 2

  Leigh Ann Edwards

  The Witch’s Daughter

  Copyright © 2016 Leigh Ann Edwards

  Smashwords Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-944925-89-5

  Dedication

  My second novel, The Witch’s Daughter, is dedicated to three amazing people who are wonderful blessings in my life.

  To my husband Mark, your calm, quiet, steadfast demeanor and willingness to adapt to most any situation, is exactly what I need to ground me even during the most difficult times. The courage you showed in pursuing your dream of moving to Canada from the UK, definitely inspired me to continue with following my own lifelong dream of becoming a published author. Your unquestionable support and unwavering belief that I need to keep writing and publishing my novels, even on the days when I am filled with doubt, are immeasurably important to me, my love.

  I would also like to dedicate my book to my two daughters, who are vastly different, but equally special and precious in my heart. I love you both and cherish the relationship I have with each of you.

  To Katrina, my firstborn; I appreciate your warmth and empathy, sense of humour and gentleness, as well as your ability to accept change, along with your support in my writing and in my life. Thanks for reading every single one of my books, even though at one time you were a bit too young to do so. Your never-ending encouragement and assistance with marketing my novel has been so helpful and welcomed more than I could ever tell you. It means a lot to me that you enjoy my books and wish for me to keep writing; and that you realize it will always be my passion. I am extremely proud to call you my daughter and so happy you are my friend, Katrina!

  To Jerilyn, my baby; you are my feisty, strong-willed daughter, who has often been compared to my sister, Darla, and I agree your temperament is much like hers. Although parenting a headstrong child is not always an easy task, I must tell you I sometimes envy your great determination and ability to speak your mind. I am exceedingly thankful you value keeping family close, and that you always take time to make holidays and celebrations extra special for everyone. I look forward to our daily phone calls and our lengthy conversations. Even though you haven’t read my books and find it a little “weird” that your mother writes novels and especially “love scenes”, I am grateful to you for helping to promote my books and truly wanting me to succeed. I am very proud of you and adore our friendship, Jerilyn!

  My heroines, Alainn and Arianna (who is found in the latter part of the series) are both largely based on the impor­tant women in my life. Their person­alities are a comb­ination of the strength and unique character­istic traits of both my daughters, my mum, and my sister, Darla.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The Irish Witch Series

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Once again, I would like to offer many thanks to Danielle Rayner, editorial assistant at Tule Publishing for all your guidance. Thanks for being able to answer my numerous questions, and for encouraging me through each step in the publishing process.

  Thanks to Meghan Farrell, managing editor at Tule, for your patience with my struggles with technology, and for your always quick replies to all my emails and inquires.

  Thanks to the editorial team for your experience and knowledgeable recommendations. I have benefitted greatly from your collaborative assistance.

  Thank you to Ravven for continuing to design such fantastic and beautifully unique book covers for The Irish Witch Series.

  As mentioned in the dedication thanks to my husband Mark and my two daughters, Katrina and Jerilyn.

  Thanks to my four wonderful grandchildren, Darien, Daniella, Grayson and Novak for bringing me such joy and unconditional love.

  Thanks to my two son-in-laws, Roy and Shane for all that you do and for the many ways you have both helped me through the years. I do appreciate it!

  I would like to thank my brother, Kerry for your continued support, your ability to make most any situation humorous, and for your help with promoting my books. Though in our younger years we may not have been the closest of siblings (that may be a bit of an understatement as we did fight a lot)! I now treasure having you as a brother and a friend.

  Thanks to my sister-in-law and treasured friend, Tannis for being such a big supporter and definitely my champion when it comes to boasting about my books and marketing. You have hands down sold more copies than any other individual. Thanks for all your help and you may just learn the ending after all!

  Thanks to my cousin, Andy, you have been a close second in the area of promotions, bragging about my novels and selling copies for me. I appreciate it very much. Thanks for your encouragement, Andy, for being such a lovely person and a great cousin!

  Thank you to my nephews, Grant and Matthew, for being so important in my life. Because of the two of you I will always have a part of your mum with me.

  Thanks to Darla and to Mum for your much appreciated signs from above that reaffirm you will always watch over us and send love and heavenly support.

  I wish to acknowledge my many cherished friends who have been very supportive, and to those who attended my book launches and library visits as well as promoting my books, I appreciate the votes of confidence and well wishes.

  To my valued fans who have fallen in love with Alainn and Killian and their world, thanks for supporting my writing. With your ongoing encouragement, I hope to publish many, many more novels in The Irish Witch Series.

  I’d like to thank Lindsey Stover, marketing and editorial manager for her much appreciated expertise in the many ways she continues to promote my novels.

  I’d also like to thank Shae Aremu, editorial assistant for all her help with marketing as well.

  Please know I couldn’t accomplish any of this without all of you!

  Chapter One

  Ireland 1536

  In a state nearing exhaustion, Alainn dodged the horse and cart trundl
ing into her path and hurried along the crowded street. Her feet throbbed painfully in her thin slippers, already bruised from the uneven cobblestones. Weaving in and out of the scattered vendor stalls, pushing through the crowds, she paused but a moment to catch her breath and inhaled deeply. The fetid scents of the city swamped her senses, and she felt her stomach lurch queasily. She set off once more on aching feet.

  Hoping to find somewhere to hide for a time, Alainn rounded the corner of a narrow alleyway only to pull up short. Pierce stood before her, exasperation clear on his young face. She met his stare with disdain.

  “Pierce MacArthur, my patience wears thin!” she rasped angrily. “I’ve told you no less than a dozen times. I’ve absolutely no intention of returning to Castle O’Brien!”

  “Aye, ’tis true, you’ve told me,” he protested with ever-thinning lips, “but I cannot in good conscience leave you here alone in this city. I have promised Killian I will watch over you in his stead, and I intend to keep my word on that count. I am here to protect you!”

  “I do not desire your presence nor require your protection, so be gone with you. Sure, Cookson must be nearly ready to set off for the castle. Join him now and be off!”

  Pierce narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and set his jaw in defiance. In a flash, she turned and sprang away from him, but his strong hand reached out and clamped on her arm. He began dragging her toward the din of the market and, though she struggled, she was no match for his strength.

  “Sorry I am, Pierce, but ’tis you who have forced my hand.” He looked back sharply, eyebrows knitting in question. “Truly,” she spat out, trying to wrench free her arm, “you would have been wise to respect my decision and heed my words!”

  Pierce glanced up as a tall stack of crates came loose from their ropes and flew at him erratically. He jumped back in alarm, though each crate seemed to pass narrowly by without hitting him. They crashed at his feet, smashing open, spewing their contents before him and capably blocking his path. Alainn ran. She thought she felt his accusing glare on her back long after he was lost from sight.

  After a fair distance, Alainn darted through the back doorway of a building. She found herself in a crowded ale-house surrounded by a rowdy crowd of bleary-eyed men. They had obviously been partaking of the wares for a goodly while. Hoping not to have been noticed, she turned back to the door when a patron lurched in front of her, blocking her exit. He eyed her up and down.

  “You can’t simply turn up here givin’ us a wee glimpse of yer beauty and then expect to leave without even an introduction,” he slurred, his breath sour. Alainn crossed her arms with impatience as he continued to speak. “But you don’t seem so very friendly. Why’d you even bother comin’ in here then?”

  Trying to ignore the foul odor permeating the air around him, Alainn looked up at the huge man who dwarfed her. Never gifted in deception, she struggled to come up with a response until he leaned in, his lips pursing.

  She backed up and stammered, “I-I beg your pardon, sir, I seem to have made a grave error. I’d thought this was the alchemist’s shop. I’m in need... I’m in need of an elixir, yes...an elixir to aid my family for I fear they may, they may...be stricken with the pox!”

  He stopped advancing, his face uncertain, then his eyes grew wide with obvious fear.

  “The pox,” he hissed. He slowly backed away as did the men nearby. “Two doors down,” he managed, covering his nose and mouth with his hands. Alainn turned and made haste.

  Relieved, she fled back down the alleyway, nearly smacking into two sailors on the verge of a confrontation involving knives.

  “Give it back!” the taller man demanded, a knife fisted in his hand.

  “I don’t have yer damn coin! I’ve told you before and I will tell ye again! I did not take it!”

  “I saw ye eyeing it last night after we were handed our pay!”

  The men started to circle each other, knives gripped and ready for slashing, knees bent, ready to spring. Alainn moved into the shadows, hoping to remain invisible as she inched her way along the stone building. When the first blade swept through the air she was certain they would be too intent on their quarrel to pay attention to her. However, when she narrowly missed stepping upon a huge rat as it scurried before her, she could not stop the startled shriek that escaped her lips.

  Momentarily distracted, they looked at Alainn. She could see thoughts of lascivious activities with a young maiden replacing their current feud. They lunged toward her.

  “ ’Twas Conelly!” she blurted, dancing away from their hands.

  “What?” they asked in unison, trying to grab for her.

  “Fergal Conelly, he stole your coin.”

  This brought them up short. They looked first at each other and then at the golden-haired girl who stood before them, the sheer picture of innocence.

  “He has it in his boot,” she insisted, “but sure he’ll be spendin’ it this night if you don’t get to him straightaway!”

  “How can she know?” one man hissed, the forgotten knife now slack in his hand.

  “She’s got the gift,” whispered the other, crossing himself. The men stood unsure, assessing the situation and the possibility that this odd young woman might possess the gift of second sight. They stepped carefully away from her, and the one who had lost his coin turned and ran to find the accused Conelly. The other stared at her with some doubt, but soon followed his mate.

  Alainn made her way back to the safety of the crowded street, shaking her head. The sights and sounds of the city surrounded her, and affronted her senses. She had read of cities before, had tried to imagine them. But, imagining and actually being there were vastly different things. She was beginning to regret her hasty decision to escape Castle O’Brien, even though it had seemed her only option.

  Trying to form a plan, she walked on, deep in thought.

  “I want your hair.”

  A man walked just behind her, so close she could feel his hot breath upon the nape of her neck. He snarled, his lips curling back to reveal a mouth nearly black with rotted teeth.

  “I want your hair,” he repeated.

  “My hair?”

  “Aye, ’tis a most unusual shade, a lovely golden color. The tresses would be much in demand.”

  The man was by no means destitute. His garment suggested he was a merchant of sorts, though a dirty one. There was a large broadsword in his scabbard, and she reasoned, by the size of his upper arms, that he had the strength to wield it well.

  “What would you do with my hair?” she quizzed as he began fingering the ends of her locks.

  “Ah,” he leaned in and sniffed her hair. “There are men and women alike who would be most pleased to have your locks made into a fine wig.”

  The man unsheathed a small knife from his belt. It glinted in the sunlight.

  “Shall I see you parted from your golden tresses?” he murmured almost lovingly.

  Whether he intended to reward her in coin for her locks or simply meant to shear them and be done with it, she did not fancy either option, though losing hair would clearly be preferential to losing her life.

  “I am rather fond of it, myself,” she protested trying to calmly release her hair from his possessive grip. He grinned once more, and Alainn caught the repugnant stench of his foul breath.

  “I’ll be takin’ more than your hair should you cause me any hardship,” he drawled.

  Her eyes skirted the area in an attempt to find help.

  “You’d be wise to think twice about disturbing my hair or any part of me,” she cautioned.

  “Do you have a man about somewhere nearby?” he sneered. “I wouldn’t have left someone so lovely alone in a city, myself. Something most unfortunate could happen to her.”

  “Not a man. I have something far more powerful and effective than a mere man.” She added in a whisper, “I am protected by fairies.”

  He smirked and guffawed.

  “You should not take this lightly, good sir,�
�� she chided, her face solemn. “Interfering with anyone under fairy protection is a most grievous matter.”

  “Are you addle-minded, woman?” he muttered impatiently, but nonetheless looking nervously around.

  “Do not rile them,” she warned. She, too, glanced around as though she saw fairies surrounding her. Smiling wickedly, she concentrated on the knife and willed it from his hand. It flew free, whizzing through the air, and lodged itself in a nearby signpost.

  He reached for his sword, but it too was torn from his grasp. It clanged to the cobblestone street, echoing unnaturally. His face paled, and he bent to retrieve it. Alainn took advantage of the moment and jumped behind a nearby cart. Sword in hand, the man stood up uncertainly, obviously deeply confused. He scanned the area, trying to locate the woman who had only now stood before him. When he turned his back, Alainn set off in the opposite direction, her feet fairly flying on the cobblestones.

  Certain she had surely given the man the slip, she dared cast a glance back. Her heart lurched in fear to see he still followed. She set out running at full speed, blocking his path with whatever objects she passed, Killian’s voice fresh in her mind. “You may not look for trouble, Alainn, but it seems to find you nonetheless.”

  The loud footsteps seemed too close. The man was gaining ground. Her burning lungs felt as though they would surely burst. Her stomach reminded her it was still queasy. She searched for a doorway through which to escape but could see no place to hide. Cursing under her breath, she wondered how she always managed to find herself in such dire circumstances.

  As she rounded a corner, she heard the clomping of a horse nearby. Carefully envisioning the face of the man, she called upon her magic. It happened all at once. She heard the horse neigh and rear, the man cry as he leapt out of the way, and his curses as he slipped on a fresh pile of horse dung and fell face first into another.

  “Protected by fairies,” she softly whispered and sent the message off on the wind.

  Chapter Two

  Alainn cried out as her head was slammed against the table. She was pinned down; her skirts, pushed up. Hands squeezed her tender breasts, and the man positioned himself above her. Her stomach lurched as he roughly prodded her. She screamed in pain and protest. His disturbing laughter rose above her noise. He shoved her knees apart, holding her arms high above her head till her shoulders ached. Her wrists burned with the deep bruises he was causing. She looked with hatred into the contorted face of her attacker, Chieftain Hugh O’Brien. She screamed once more and awoke.