Defending Destiny (The Warrior Chronicles) (40 page)

Jordon took her hand again and led her to the bench he’d designed for that spot, under the willow tree, overlooking the pond. Her aunt Finn created it in her metal shop. It had two Celtic hearts wrapped around one another with a pair of sparring gloves draped in the middle. One heart for her mom. One heart for him. And a pair of sparring gloves binding them together, always. Her father had an acerbic sense of humor and a depth of character so deep she’d never approach the bottom.

They sat side by side for a moment, each gazing at the pond, each caught in a memory of this place they loved.

Jordon looked down at Daisy’s hand, where she was holding her pendant. “I remember the day you threw that away.”

Daisy startled. Her gaze shot to his. She didn’t know what to say to that. She’d been angry and alone and so full of hate, mostly for herself, that she’d been oblivious to her surroundings as well as the fact that she really didn’t want to lose Magnus or his gift.

“I saw the look on your face. I’d never seen you so lost or so hurt.” His voice got lower and quieter. “Or so twisted up with emotion. In that moment you hated your life, yourself—hell, kid, you hated the world.” Jordon’s voice cracked.

“I knew then you’d have to find your own way back to yourself. I have to say, you sure took your sweet time.” He tempered that criticism by putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in.

Daisy looked up at her father, not quite believing what he was telling her. “
You
put this under my pillow.”

“Umm.”

She settled back into the bench and looked out at the pond. She could hear the bullfrogs and the dancing water bugs. Their music mixed with the song of a male cardinal and the numerous songbirds flying amid the wild rose bushes, the reeds, the Russian olive trees and the various other types of greenery surrounding the pond. Daisy suddenly felt lighter than she had when she woke up. Her father was right. Loathing of any sort was a heavy bag to carry. She was well rid of it.

“So when did you start calling Magnus ‘Gus’?”

“The second he brought you home cradled in his arms. That man loves you like the heavens love the earth. You would be foolish to push him away. You are worthy of that kind of love, you know.”

Once again, her father tapped into a fear she didn’t even know she had. She let it go too. They were home now and it was time for healing and starting again. Daisy lifted her left hand, showing Jordon her ring. “I am married, Dad. I was also the one who did the asking. I won’t be pushing Magnus away.”

Jordon smiled and pulled her closer. “That’s my girl. Courageous to her toes. You get that from your mother.” Jordon paused and stiffened a bit before continuing. “You know your mother’s going to want to see me give you away, right? We’re going to have to have another ceremony here.”

The vulnerability that snuck into her father’s voice washed away whatever remaining negativity she felt about the how and the why of her journey home.

Daisy rested her head on his chest, content just to sit with him and enjoy this special place.

“I love you, Dad.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

The morning of their third scheduled wedding dawned clear and bright and hot. Too hot for the full dress kilts Magnus insisted all the men wear. Everyone complained about all the wool, except Jordon Bennett, who simply grinned the whole day.

Reed came up to her husband after the ceremony and took his arm. The ceremony was half pagan, officiated by Peter, Potters Wood’s resident spiritual man, with Merlin assisting, and half Christian, officiated by Pastor Manda, from the Congregational church that Irma loved. Jordon spread Irma’s ashes on the pond years ago, and when he needed his friend’s cantankerous post-mortem advice he still talked to her there.

“Thanks for letting me join you on your walk down the aisle,” Reed said, smiling up at her husband. She loved him even more now than when he’d brainwashed her into flying to Las Vegas with him all those years ago.

Jordon wrapped his hand around hers. “I wouldn’t call the deck stairs leading down to the gazebo in the meadow an aisle.” He smiled down at her. “Wanna go upstairs and fool around?”

Not one to be shy or coy when it came to enjoying her husband, Reed smiled back. “Yes. Later though, I want to watch our daughter and our new son enjoy their wedding day.”

“Technically, it’s their third wedding day.”

“And three times, this time and this time only, will be the charm.”

“I love it when you get so dictatorial.”

Reed laughed. “What was that bit about insisting Daisy burn that piece of paper Magnus pulled out of his sporran before he could say his vows?”

“From what I understand, after speaking with him this morning, and he wasn’t all that coherent—hell he was literally shaking waiting for some sort of lightning strike to smote him—anyway, he told me he needed to start a fire.”

“Why?”

“To burn one of Daisy’s lists.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Apparently it was a pretty horrifying list. What’s worse is she’d actually gotten to number nine.”

Reed shuddered. “I’m glad she burned it, then.” Reed took a champagne flute from a passing tray and nodded toward an overly tall man with a long brown ponytail streaked with gold. “Who’s that?”

“You’re taken, woman. Don’t go getting any ideas.”

Reed laughed and Jordon’s heart warmed at the sound. “He seems adverse to mingling, like he’d like to disappear. He keeps pulling at his tie like it’s choking him. What’s even weirder is that he does seem to disappear. The second I look away he’s gone, then I spot him somewhere else. He seems to like Daisy well enough, though—every time he sees her he smiles.”

Jordon looked at the man and in less than a second knew he was the one who helped Magnus bring Daisy safely home. “He helped bring Daisy back to us. He goes by the name the Ghost, but I think Daisy calls him Rowan.”

Reed and Jordon each surveyed their home filled with people they loved and new friends they’d grow to hold in their hearts as the years passed. They were grateful for each other and the life they’d built for their children, their grandchildren, and
their Potters Woods community.

Another wedding.

Another life spent building tomorrows.

They were well and truly blessed.

…

Magnus relaxed a bit now that the deed was done, with their co-mingled families in attendance. Even Jordon welcomed him with open arms, which was no small thing. Now all he wanted to do was get Daisy upstairs and out of her ridiculously flouncy gown. He preferred her sky-clad and dancing by moonlight.

She smiled at him while she twirled around the dance floor with yet another partner. This time it was his father, so he couldn’t begrudge Shay his taste or his time. When Shay spun Daisy into his arms she was out of breath and perspiring in that wonderful way where he could smell every luscious bit of her.

“About time you share a dance with your husband.” Magnus spun her again with the deft touch of a man who’d learned to dance from his mother before he could walk.

“Ouch, mon, dinna’ ya know I love ya?”

“I love the way you butcher it every time you try to put Scotland on your tongue.”

“There’s more than a wee bit of Scotland I’d like on my tongue,” Daisy said smiling up at him.

Magnus stopped dancing. “Let’s go.”

She pulled him toward one of the empty tables near the pond. “I’ve got something for you first.”

“What is it, lass? You sound serious.”

Her countenance went from breathless euphoria to serious so quickly it made his heart stop.

“I am. As serious as I’ve ever been or ever will be.”

She looked at him for a heartbeat and reached into her bodice to pull out a damp piece of folded-up paper. She handed it to him with a smile and Magnus found he could breathe again.

Magnus unfolded the paper.
Top Ten Reasons I Will Love Magnus More Every Day.

Magnus couldn’t read past the tears in his eyes, so he gently folded it back up and put it in his sporran. He had the rest of his life to read her reasons. It was enough that she loved him.

He pulled her to him. “I love you, lass. And that doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“I love you, Gus. With my whole heart.” She looked at him quizzically before a naughty smile lit her eyes and danced on her full lips. “So, my big Highland thief, do you still have my favorite pair of panties secreted upon your person?”

Magnus returned her smile, his wolfish, ready to pounce. “Aye, lassie. I do.” He directed her hand to his sporran. “And I’ll give you three seconds’ head start to your room before I start stripping right here in the open. If you like, we can come back down and dance some more
after
I see you in them and nothing more.”

“The only dancing I want to do now, Gus, is in your arms.”

…

Merlin watched over Daisy and Magnus like he did with the rest of their family. He watched Daisy serve honorably as Second to Lauren MacBain. Decades later, when Lauren stepped down to live out his days with Merry, Daisy became the first female Arm-Righ since the inception of the position. Daisy served the Court of the Damselfly with distinction and brought more knowledge to the people than any of her predecessors.

Magnus ascended to Chief Druid when Merry stepped down and through him their order flourished, protecting what needed protecting, healing what needed healing, sharing stories of the Celtic people and sowing seeds, literally and figuratively, for future generations.

Magnus and Daisy had five children and seventeen grandchildren. Two of their children took Magnus’ path of learning and teaching the old ways. One took Daisy’s path and eventually was voted into the office of Arm-Righ. One took after her grandmother, went to law school, and eventually became a mediator…there’s no accounting for taste.

All were flawed. All became good people who did good work. All grew in love and laughter and tears, together as a family.

Merlin planted trees for each one.

Those trees, and their offspring, still stand at Potters Woods today.

WHY I WROTE DEFENDING DESTINY

Daisy came to me, while I was writing
Fighting Fate
, as a precocious list-making twelve-year-old who knew exactly what she wanted and would do anything to get it. Her wit, her sense of humor, and her ability to go for what she wanted, even as a child in an adult world, made me love her. That same sense of purpose makes her beautifully flawed, stronger than she thinks she is, and loving to her core. She needed to be matched with a hero deserving of her; equally as strong and funny but perhaps with more forgiveness in his heart.

Magnus came to me before Daisy, and I loved him immediately. In
Fighting Fate
, Magnus doesn’t blame his father or his mother for the fact that he meets his father for the first time at eighteen. Instead, he loves them both. Daisy needed a man strong enough to love without regret.

But that’s just the beginning of who they are. And that’s how I start, with character. Then with theme.

I knew I wanted to write about a girl who knows what she wants, announces that fact to the adults involved, and proceeds through young adulthood to get it. Daisy wants Magnus’ love. She wants happily-ever-after with him, she’s upfront about it, and she goes for it on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. She’s sure. She’s proactive. She lays her heart, her body, her spirit on the line. Talk about courageous. What a spirit that is. And Magnus crushes it as only a first love can. I wanted to see if that kind of love could find itself again. In many ways
Defending Destiny
is just that; having the courage to defend the destiny we carve out for ourselves before the pain of rejection wrenches it away.

Magnus is a kind, good man, who has feelings for Daisy that are just about to blossom when he finds himself trapped. He can’t breathe under the weight of what he sees as his future. He lashes out. Less than a week later, he regrets it.

Trying to put those two strong people together, after the drama of first love pulls them apart, is something I wanted to explore. Can we come home again? The answer for Magnus and Daisy is yes.

There are many themes in this book. Too many for a speedy write. I’ve been interested in philosophy, spirituality, and science most of my life. I’ve never understood the schism between science and spirituality or religion, and philosophy, or what I term a Code for Living. Even as a child all three blended for me. They are all real. They all require a stretch of the imagination great eno
ugh to be labeled faith.

I wanted to explore history and myth and that wonderful place where lore merges with reality, and I wanted to do it my ancestral home: Scotland. The dolmens, cairns, and the stone circles I write about are all real and are all a short distance from the real Kilmartin Glen, Scotland.