Star Crossed
Christine Young
achristay@aol.com
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 2
Ireland in 1817, when
tensions are high between Protestants and Catholics and faey people guide the
fate of villagers. A lovely Catholic lass stumbles upon the weakly ritual fisticuffing
between Irish lads. She falls into the lap of a handsome young Protestant.
Family ties, grudges, and two conniving faeries threaten their budding love.
But the faeries outsmart themselves when they hijack a time machine that has
mysteriously appeared in their forest.
EXCERPT
Casey
pushed on the green grass, trying to unwind herself from the man beneath her,
but fell again. All right, Casey lass,
you're in a heap of trouble right now with no way out. You are seeing the earth
whirl and tumble around and you're on top of a brute of a man--a Protestant.
"All
right, lads, we'll meet here next Sunday, same place, same time," her
brother's voice filtered through the air as if it floated in the fog that
surrounded Casey.
Once
again she pushed on the damp grass and didn't seem to make headway, her arms
feeling as if they'd changed to soggy twine. Don't you abandon me, Patrick O'Connell. You know I have the Devil's
own luck. If you leave me here, I'll never forgive you.
"What
about Casey?" one of her brother's friend asked. "She looks a little
worse for the encounter."
"Do
you think we should leave her here--with Kelly?"
"He's
a right stand-up guy. Of course you can leave her here. We'll see her
home," a Shaunasey said.
"Well,
Kelly is a fine bloke. He won't hurt her. In fact with my feisty lil' sister
involved, I fear for him--not her," Patrick said laughing. "She'll do
as she pleases. She always does. How can I control her when father cannot? She
does not need a second father." He shrugged his shoulder and looked behind
him at his little sister as he strolled down the hill.
"She's
hurt," another friend called after Patrick. "What kind of brother are
you?"
"One
who is tired of looking after an accident prone little lass. She has to take
responsibility for herself sometime, does she not?"
"She
is that," one commented. "You rescue her night and day."
~ * ~
"You should have
blessed her with a wee bit o'Irish coordination," Oran said dryly as he
flew to a hovering position near the girl.
"And you should
remember what our blessed mother told us, 'if you cannot say anythin' nice,
don't say anything at all'." Moya rose above the flower petal, her wings
buzzing with her anger toward her brother.
"I didn't say
anything that wasn't the truth." Oran whistled out of tune for a moment.
"We could kidnap them."
"And that is your
solution to everything?" Moya pointed one finger at him and shook it.
"Why, Oran, I believe you may fancy the lass for yourself. I will not have
it. Go play your tricks on someone else's charge. She is mine to see to safety
and long life. And don't be forgettin' the lad is yours to watch over."
"You best stem
your anger, Moya. You're wings have turned golden," Oran said with a
hearty chuckle.
~ * ~
"Let
Kelly handle her," Casey's brother said with a light chuckle. "He
lost and so he must deal with the object of that loss and assume the
consequences. It's only fair."
"Hey!"
Kelly said, "Don't leave me here with your sister. It will be hell to pay.
She's a little girl. What will your father say?"
The
others laughed. "Just don't take too long to decide what to do with her.
Little girl or not, father will come after you with his pistol."
I just turned eighteen
years old--little girl--how dare he…
"Bloody
hell, Patrick. What are you thinking?" Kelly cried out.
"I'm
thinking the Catholics won this fight. What are you thinking?" Patrick
turned his back on the pair and whistled a jaunty tune as he strolled down the
hill.
"Revenge
will be sweet. Next Sunday…" Kelly shook his fist at the departing back of
Casey's brother.
From
what seemed like a great distance Casey heard the moan emanating from inside
her battered and bruised body. She squished her eyes together, wishing her head
didn't pound so fiercely, and the ground spin so wildly. "Who are
you?" she whispered next to the man's chest while a soft spring breeze
whispered against her heated face.
"Who
am I?" the man chuckled. "Lass, you are the one who landed atop me. I
should be inquiring into who you are? Only I know." His hands rested
around her waist and squeezed as if he were testing--perhaps
exploring--entirely inappropriate. Yet for some strange reason, Casey didn't
mind the supposed to be unwanted attention. "And
I don't think your brother should have left you here with the likes of me. I'm
afraid I've landed myself in a dangerous predicament. And I'm thinkin' one that
will be very hard to explain."
"Shame
on you," Casey said. "You take liberties." The words stole her
breath and she had to lean on Kelly once more in order to minimize the pounding
of her head and the strange feelings emanating from where his hands were.
"I
only want to remove you from--my--ah--person. And if I were taking liberties
with you, lass, you'd be near swooning with passion."
"Ah,
it seems you are a wee bit arrogant," she opened her eyes and gazed into
the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. "The color of a summer sky," she
whispered to him, still feeling woozy and not quite sure what he'd just told
her--but thinking at the moment something besides the fall caused the earth to
spin and the sky to tilt with a crazy, wild abandon.
"What
is, lass?"
"Your
eyes," she said, struggling against him and finally rolling to the side so
she lay sprawled on the grass, staring into the sky she'd referred to a moment
earlier and watching a white billowy cloud float past. "I'm not a little
girl," she told him. "Don't ever call me that again."
"Then
you want me to tell lies?" he asked with a lazy half-smile that stole
Casey's heart and left her floundering. "I dinna think I can do
that."
"It
isn't a lie," she said, trying to sound indignant, yet frustrated beyond
anything she'd ever felt before.
