A Witch's Quest Read online

  A Witch’s Quest

  An Irish Witch Romance

  Leigh Ann Edwards

  A Witch’s Quest

  Copyright © 2018 Leigh Ann Edwards

  Smashwords Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  First Publication by Tule Publishing Group 2018

  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: 978-1-948342-51-3

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  Dedication

  I have noted before how inspirational the females in my life have been to me; my mum and my sister, my two daughters, my granddaughter, my sister-in-law, but up till now, I have never mentioned my grandmothers who were both incredibly important in my life.

  I would like to dedicate this book to both of them, to Mary Elizabeth Caldwell Tweed Edwards, and to Agnes Augusta Sundby (Olsen) Clarke, two grandmothers remarkably different in many ways, and yet such amazing women who both influenced my life and my writing.

  Mary Edwards was born in Ontario Canada in April 1897. She was a gracious lady, gentle and caring, very much involved in the small farming community in Manitoba where she lived, the church and in charity work. She was a school teacher and well-loved by her students, noted for her kind encouragement. Truly, in all the time I spent with Grandma Edwards, I never heard her say one unkind word about anyone. Even though she was gentle, she was a strong woman. She and my grandfather raised four children during the Great depression which was extremely difficult as the Canadian prairies were especially hard hit by the unrelenting wind and drought.

  Grandma played the piano and loved to listen to Irish music. I recall Grandma’s windowsills were filled with house-plants. She enjoyed gardening and always produced delicious vegetables and beautiful flowers. The smell of sweet peas on a hot summer day reminds me of her and her garden. I was grandma’s sixth grandchild and I have been told by numerous people I look just like my grandma Mary. Even to this day, people tell me that.

  Grandma was very interested in genealogy. She loved to write, mostly about the history of the area, or her family. She was always so pleased when I would ask her about the past. I know she would be proud that I followed in her footsteps in loving writing and history, although she would definitely not have approved of the steamy love scenes.

  Grandma Edwards was extra special to me because I lived in the same town as she did. I saw her often, I went to her place for sleepovers at her farm, for picnics, Christmases, birthdays, special occasions, and family Sunday dinners. Her small house was always filled with the cousins from my father’s side of the family. Grandma was steadfast and constant and always there for me if I needed her. (She actually lived two and a half miles away and I got in to big trouble when I walked to her house along the busy highway when I was nine years old.) Grandma lived to be 97 years old. She was such an important part of my childhood and I am so grateful I was blessed to have her as my grandmother.

  Agnes Sundby was born in New Brunswick Canada in June 1914. She was a wonderful, loving woman with a great sense of humor. She was generous to a fault. Nana, as she was known as by all her grandchildren, would gladly give you her last penny or as the saying goes “the shirt off her back” just to see you smile, or if she thought you might need it more. By the time I was born, she had separated from my grandfather and was living in a city with her four youngest children; the older three children had already left home. She was a strong woman, too, and did not have an easy life. She was a hard worker, doing many different jobs through the years. She once worked as a facility for people with mental and physical impairments and I’m told she was very gifted and empathetic, especially well liked by staff and patients. Later in life, Nana took in boarders to help make ends meet.

  She was very proud of her Norwegian (Viking) heritage as her father had come to Canada from Norway. Even though she moved further west as a child, having lived on the east coast of Canada, she never ever stopped missing the ocean or the taste of lobster. I was Nana’s first grandchild and we shared a June birthday and a wonderful bond.

  Nana was extra special to me because we lived far apart and only got to see her perhaps once a year. When she came to see us she’d stay for a long time, and when my family went to visit her it was a novelty to go to the big city in Alberta. When I was older I was so excited to go on the train alone or with my brother, and it was for weeks at a time during summer holidays. We were always thrilled because at Nana’s place we were able to spend time with the cousins from my mother’s side of the family when we saw them so seldom. Nana always seemed genuinely happy to have us there with her and would hug us tight during hellos and goodbyes, never knowing for sure when we’d see each other again. Now, as a grandmother myself, I understand how truly difficult that must have been.

  Nana enjoyed playing cards and Yahtzee. She loved reading romance novels and would often pass them on to me after she read them. She was proud and excited to read my novels when I first starting writing, and her only comment about my loves scenes was “those people sure are in bed a lot! Even now, when I pass the romance novel aisle in a library or a bookstore, I remember her. I never ever eat a maple walnut ice-cream cone (my favorite as well) without thinking of the times Nana and I would have them together. Although she’d had some health concerns many times in her life, Nana lived to be 85 years old. She was such an important part of my childhood and I am so blessed to have had her for my grandmother.

  I like to think I have inherited even a few redeeming qualities from both my cherished grandmothers for they were both incredible women whom I adored. My life was greatly enriched by them and I will always be grateful for their love and their influence.

  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

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter
Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The Irish Witch Series

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Once again, I would like to offer my sincere thanks to the fantastic team of ladies at Tule Publishing. Meghan, Michelle and Sarah, as always, you have all been exceptional at helping me with whatever I have needed through the many steps in seeing A Witch’s Quest published. It’s so reassuring to know my emails and many questions are answered in a quick and supportive way. I do appreciate it so much.

  Sinclair, I am very grateful for your expert opinion in content editing. I welcome your great advice in what improves my stories and makes them more interesting and appealing to my readers. To Marlene, my copy editor for this instalment in my series, thanks for your keen eye in catching the errors and making suggestions.

  Again, I would like to acknowledge my cover designer, Ravven for creating such beautiful covers. I couldn’t begin to tell you how many positive comments I have had regarding your talents in designing covers that are absolutely perfect for The Irish Witch Series.

  To my amazing family, each one of you are very uniquely special to me. Thanks for recognizing how important my writing is to me, assisting me with promotions and marketing, and offering encouragement every step of the way.

  To my valued friends, I thank you for supporting me, giving me input into my stories and helping with promoting my series. It means a lot to me.

  To my fans, the dedicated readers of The Irish Witch Series, thanks for following my stories, rooting for Alainn and Killian, waiting through the unnerving cliff-hangars and intense story lines, and for loving my characters almost as much as I do. I hope you will continue to enjoy the remaining instalments.

  The dream might be in my heart, the words in my mind and the characters in my imagination, but all of you have played a significant part in making Alainn, Killian, and their magical world come alive.

  Chapter One

  Alainn O’Brien awoke from a deep sleep to find herself floating, gliding effortlessly through the seemingly endless corridors of a castle she’d never seen before. She felt unusually light and free almost as though her body wasn’t actually her own. She considered this is what it might be like as a spirit. The startling thought entered her mind, that perhaps she was indeed a spirit.

  Shylie and Diadra, the two spirits Alainn knew well, both moved in just such a fashion. Could she be a spirit? She tried to recall her last memories before she found herself in this long, narrow unrecognizable corridor, but they were merely muddled fragments. She brought to mind a vague recollection of a sound behind her, a trace of remembrance of the sudden terror of seeing from the corner of her eye an immense coach, and knowing there wasn’t time to move from its path even by employing her magic.

  She remembered the immediate all-consuming pain in her ribs and her belly, and finally the torturous excruciation and disturbing sound as she fell and struck her head on the cobblestones. Then there had been simply darkness.

  But now, there was not a hint of discomfort, entirely no semblance of pain and she was certainly ever thankful to be free of that brutal agony, yet the absence of pain and the lack of connection to her body could clearly only mean one thing. She was surely dead; she must have died from the severity of her injuries. The thought unnerved her, for if she was truly dead, then she would never be reunited with her one true love, her beloved husband, Killian...not in this life...not till he met with death as well.

  Yet if she were actually a spirit would she continue to feel this deep heart-wrenching emotion, such utter despair at the thought of no longer sharing a life with her love? She would need to discover the truth of it. She must learn if she was dead...or soon would be.

  She further decided she would use her present undetermined state, and the limited time she may have left to discover what might benefit Killian, for she only then recalled Killian was being held somewhere within the dreaded tower.

  Danhoul, the young druid and one of her guardians, must be here as well for she remembered him calling to her after her unfortunate mishap, and perhaps even now somewhere far, far away through a thick, distant fog his voice echoed and beckoned her to come back.

  But before she followed Danhoul’s voice, she vowed to become more aware of her surroundings and willed herself to float back to where she’d begun this unusual flight. She took note of each twist and turn in the numerous winding corridors. She purposely held to memory each hidden passageway, every alcove and stairwell. Even if she was a spirit or on the path to being a spirit, surely she would retain some of her magical abilities and be capable of finding a way to free the others.

  She found a doorway which she intuitively recognized as leading to the tower...and somewhere in that tower was her cherished husband Killian. She would go to him and see how he was faring before she decided her next course of action. If she was actually dead she must see him again, she would stay with him...wait for him...even as a spirit ensure he was free to return to Ireland and not live out his time in the horrid tower. And then she would remain beside him always, she would not go to the beyond without her true love.

  She floated through the stone wall as if it were mist. Although in life she was capable of moving through barriers by way of her supernatural abilities, this was entirely different, no unease...no resistance.

  Killian was sitting upon the narrow bed in the dark chamber and evidently deep in thought. Her heart leapt at seeing him. She surmised she couldn’t actually be dead else she would not react so strongly to seeing her only love. Although she did recall Shylie and Diadra had both spoken of retaining emotions after death, therefore she was truly none the wiser to her present state.

  Alainn remembered being in this chamber once before. She had magically come to Killian to tell him the joyful revelation that she carried his child...their daughter. Her hand went to her belly and she was immediately saddened for she knew the child was no more. She once more recalled being struck by the carriage wheel and falling to the ground. She felt as if she was reliving it now, the sharp pain in her belly, the sudden sensation of warmth, surely blood flowing between her thighs. Even then in her state of fright and alarm, as she was falling to the ground, she’d been well aware she was losing their unborn child...another lost child, gone to the beyond as was their wee newborn baby boy Cian who had died many months ago.

  Alainn pulled from her sorrowful memories and glanced at Killian once more. It was unlikely he would know any of the happenings of her recent misfortune, the incident with the coach, the loss of the child, the possibility she was dead or even now dying. Unless Danhoul had managed to get word to Killian, he would have no inkling she had been harmed in any way. He would believe she was safely returned to Ireland for when he learned she was with child, he had insisted she journey homeward to protect herself and their unborn child from the uncertainties of life here in England with him held within the tower.

  She now remembered a group of them had been on their way to the docks to board a ship to take her home to Ireland. Danhoul had seen to the arrangements. But another distinct memory came to her, they had missed the ship...firstly because she had been ailing both body and soul, heartsick at the consideration of leaving Killian behind, but she’d also been suffering the putrid stomach often associated with carrying a child. They had set out later than Danhoul would have desired and then Lily, the innkeepers’ daughter had further detained them...she had followed them and they had needed to ensure she was safely back with her parents.

  Tiny fragments of memory were intermittently flooding back to her in bits and bursts. Alainn now clearly remembered standing waiting for Danhoul while he attempted to make alternate arrangements for their passage home to Ireland. She remembered she had paid little attention to the details for she was heavy-hearted at the consideration of journeying back to Ireland while Killian remained imprisoned in the king’s tower. She had been regretful she’d made that binding promise t
o him, but intent on remaining true to her word. She had distracted her melancholia by watching a small girl-child in the busy market area by the docks, and she’d smiled to herself because her magical abilities allowed her to know full-well she carried a girl-child of her own. She and Killian had created a precious daughter.

  She recalled intently watching the lovely child in the bustling location. It was teeming with people, numerous stalls, horses, carts and by closer observation, clearly many untrustworthy sorts. She remembered thinking the woman who minded the child did not seem diligent in her duties in caring for her charge. Alainn then distinctly recalled being overtaken with the knowledge there was something sorely amiss. She knew by way of her supernatural abilities, the child was in immediate peril and she had instinctively started running toward her. She’d been horrified to see the woman guide the child toward the noisy street and purposely let go of her tiny hand. Alainn had instinctively known she needed to protect the small child from a large black horse and a rider with dark intentions...one surely allied with the very demon who had been pursuing Alainn for some time.

  She had grabbed the child and pulled her out of the path of the horse and clear of the danger, but then she’d seen the coach. Just before the coach had been upon them she’d once more shoved the child to safety. She remembered hearing her crying loudly as she fell to her knees, but she had saved her. She had ensured she would live. It was bittersweet for it was at that point she had already realized her own unborn child would not. She vaguely recalled thinking she might die as well. And so it had come to pass. The girl-child she’d carried was lost, and perhaps now she was gone herself as well.

  She temporarily left her despairing memories and went to Killian where he sat upon the bed, his back against the stone wall. He stared straight ahead clearly deep in thought. She knew without question his mind was on her...on how he might end his time in this tower and find his way back to her. She looked at his handsome face; his high cheekbones and strong jaw. She gazed into the intense green eyes she had always found undeniably enchanting. He seemed to be intent on his thoughts, yet he did not appear distraught or encumbered with grief or fretfulness. She reasoned he truly knew nothing of her plight.