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MIDNIGHT SHOWCASE
Erotic-aah Romp
ISSN 1555-5496 Vol.R06-10
Fiachra’s Kiss
By
Brenda Williamson
MIDNIGHT SHOWCASE
www.midnightshowcase.com
Fiachra’s Kiss
Published in the USA by
Midnight Showcase
PO Box 300491
Houston, TX 77230
www.midnightshowcase.com
Fiachra’s Kiss , Copyright © 2006 Brenda Williamson
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book 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 and beyond
the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval
system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISSN 1555-5496 Vol.R06-10
Credits
Editor, Nancy Schumacher
Copy Editor, Jane Carver
Cover Layout by Mae Powers
Format Editor, Jewel Adams
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Fiachra’s Kiss
Fiachra’s Kiss
By
Brenda Williamson
Fiachra flees her village of Kerne when she learns she's to marry
a druid prince on the eve of Samhain. Her disappearance could start a
battle between two clans. Is the handsome warrior, Bowen of Druce
her ally or her kidnapper? Will he return her to Kerne before a war
breaks out?
BrendaWilliamson.com
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Fiachra’s Kiss
Fiachra’s Kiss
By
Brenda Williamson
CHAPTER ONE
466 A.D. Ireland
Fiachra threw up her hands, frustrated with her father and his
plans for an arranged marriage.
“It will be a good match for me, daughter,” her father declared.
As the druid king of Kerne, Airic was a wise man. As her father,
Airic’s unreasonable demands bordered on craziness.
“Selling me into a loveless marriage is not a good match in mine
eyes!” She paced the small room of their modest hut.
“He is the son of our enemy, I know, but the druid king of Druce
has pledged an alliance by this marriage.”
“They have strange practices in their beliefs,” she argued.
“They could say the same of us.”
“I have heard horrible rumors they eat their young.” She
exaggerated, but she had heard gossip of lesser evils.
Her father’s riotous laugher filled the hut, his amusement obvious
at her stretching a rumor. She didn’t want him jolly. The seriousness
of her impending future lay within his power to change. Fiachra had
to make him see that this marriage would not be good for her.
“But I have not even seen this druid prince,” she whined,
attempting to cover all levels of emotions. Airic must rescind the
agreement that bound her life to a man not of her choosing. “What if
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Fiachra’s Kiss
he is some horrid, wart-speckled toad? Ye would condemn me, thy
own flesh and blood, to such an appalling man?”
She knew her father had deliberated extensively on the matter
already. She further knew he could not put her happiness above that
of the welfare of their people. Nonetheless, it was her future, and she
had to fight for some rights to it.
“He is due to arrive sometime today and will be here this evening
for the start of Samhain. Ye will get to know him then, and the hand-
fasting will take place in the morn.”
“Ye want me to marry a man I have never met? A man, I might
remind ye, who has worked to slaughter our tribe. And ye wish it
done on the most joyous day of the year!”
“What better time to put the past behind us and look forward to
the future? Samhain is the rebirth of time, and the New Year looks to
be a good one with this union. “
What better time to disappear or die with grief.
Fiachra fixated on the latter. If her father meant her to move from
their village then maybe she could oblige by doing so on her own.
When all the fires were extinguished around the land, she would slip
away into the dark night and leave Kerne forever.
A tap on the wood-planked door prompted her to turn and greet
their visitor. The door opened. She stepped back at the sight of a large
man who had no manners to wait for an invitation to come into their
home.
“King Argus.” Her father rushed forward. “Come, join us in our
humble dwelling, and meet me daughter, Fiachra.”
The man glanced down at her. He didn’t look very approving,
and that made her more determined not to become a victim of
circumstance.
“Pardon me.” She bowed her head. “I have festivities to oversee.”
Fiachra couldn’t get out of the hut fast enough. King Argus’
coldness sent shivers up her spine with his dark disturbing gaze.
Outside, men stood guard—those that saw to her father’s safety and
those that apparently accompanied the Druce king.
She held her chin high as she paraded past the group of men. Not
making eye contact with them worked until she reached the last man.
He stepped in front of her, and she had to look up.
“Please, let me by,” she commanded.
He didn’t move.
She pushed at his bulk and swept around him. The crunch of his
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