Well, here's another chapter.

DC: WL or its characters do not belong to me, but I can do what I want with them ;p

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one

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"Boxty on the griddle, boxty in the pan, if you cannot make boxty, you'll never get a man." Two girlish voices drifted down the halls of the large manor.

A woman sighed in the next room, grabbing the garmets that lay strewn about. "Girls, keep your voices down, would you please? The baby is trying to sleep."

"Sorry Mamai." The two girls laughed silenty, continuing their hand game even as their mother entered the room.

They were not close in age, but they were close in spirit. The dark haired girl was small, even for her age of twelve. But her older sister beside her was a good height at eighteen, her long auburn hair braided down her back until it reached a little below her hips. They were both in their nightgowns, sleep still in their eyes as they sat on their beds.

"And in case you never get out of your beds, I was to remind you that St. John's is in three days time." The older woman folded a nightgown neatly and placed it on the reading chair nearby.

They looked at their mother who stood a few feet away, clothes in her arms. She was a handsome woman, even after all the things she went through in her life. Her fine hair was swept into a loose bun and her grey eyes were warm.

"Ach, yes! I nearly forgot." Evelyn exclaimed, running her fingers through her dark waves.

Siobhan only smiled. "You'd forget the sky was blue if no one was there to tell you."

Evelyn tossed a pillow at her sister. "Ha. You're quite the wit."

"And proud of it." Siobhan got up, tossing her head with over-exaggerated cheekiness.

Her mother only rolled her eyes. "People always tell me what spirited daughters I have, but I never believe them."

Siobhan took the gowns from her mother and tossed them on the bed. "You refuse to believe them." She hugged the older woman. "But little Aiden shall grow up to be a proper gentlemen, won't he now?"

"If his sisters don't grow up like highland savages, but proper ladies."

"Ach, but no!" Siobhan pulled back with laughing eyes. "It's not our fault we were born with the true blood of Brian Boru in our veins. A true savage highlander I am."

Evelyn stood proudly beside her sister, always following lead. "Me too."

But their mother only pinched their cheeks. "With the added blood of English propriety."

Siobhan grimaced. "You always have to ruin it."

"A fine way to be proud of your blood. Wait 'til your father hears."

"Oh, Mamai, I was not serious. It's not your fault you married an Englishman." Siobhan added wistfully, thinking of her tall handsome father, a true English lord who had fallen in love with the young Nola as he was visiting Ireland. It was a romantic story Siobhan never tired of.

Nola laughed at her eldest daughter, and shook her head. "No, I suppose I really did have no choice. Love is blind."

Siobhan pulled her chemise over her head and began dressing. "People always say that."

"You'll understand one day." Nola left the room then, smiling still.

Evelyn turned to help Siobhan with her lacings, pulling tightly until Siobhan almost choked. She hated the cursed things, but her mother had placed them on her bed the morning of her fifteenth birthday. To maintain your womanly shape, she had said. Siobhan hardly knew she even had a womanly shape.

"Are you trying to kill me, then?"

"Sorry." Evelyn answered meekly. "Anyways, Mamai says if you ever hoped to find a husband you must not be so forward. If I tighten this enough, you'll be too busy trying to breath that you won't speak so improper."

Siobhan elbowed her. "And if you do, I'll box your ears some."

Evelyn giggled. "Midsummer's Night is close at hand, you'll need a waist for a faery man." She sing-songed as she skipped out of the room.

Siobhan was taken-aback at her sisters impromptu rhyme. She darted after her, forgetting to pin up her hair. "You sneak, where did you ever learn that?"

Their manor was in fact an old, large castle built around the late medieval period. It was a bit worn and cold, but Siobhan could only think of it with fond memories and a warm heart. It was where she had grew up. As she glided down the stairs she met her mother, who laughed at her daughter.

"There's my colleen, now. Wandering off to meet a boy, are you?" Nola tugged a strand of Siobhan's loose hair.

Siobhan blushed at her mothers teasing. "I'm off for a walk, Mamai. I'll be back before breakfast."

"You stay close, now. No gallivanting about. And remember Siobhan; no proper young lady gives kisses freely."

"Of course, Mamai." Siobhan smiled, laughing despite herself.

She sprinted away then, out the courtyard and down the dirt path to the green highlands where the mist of morning roamed freely. She tugged at her braid until it fell away, and she shook her hair laughingly. It was a fine morning, and she ran until she reached the top of her favorite hill, breathless and gazing at the land beneath her. It was beautiful and free. Her home.

Never had she once thought of leaving Ireland, as her mother had. She had heard the stories. How free-spirited and wild her mother had once been. At sixteen she had met the young English lord who's family owned the nearest castle. Nola's family had been of old Irish blood, as blue as the English blood of her father's. But when he had brought her back to England as his bride, his parents had looked down on her. And so she had come back to Ireland, missing it's hills and mists.

No man can ever make me leave Ireland. She thought. No matter what.

"Breathtaking, is it not?"

Siobhan whirled around to see who had spoken and caught her breath. His eyes were like rays of sunlight, gold and amber. He had a regal, handsome face. The sun sent shimmers of golden flecks through his already golden hair. And he smiled at her warmly.

Breathtaking, is it not?

"Yes." She breathed.

"A bit cold to be out so early, miss."

Siobhan steadied her breathing. "It's perfect."

He was standing below her on the hill, dressed in riding breeches and a fine silk hat. She now noticed the brilliant horse a few feet away. He must be a fine gentlemen, and he sounds like an Englishman.

He saw her looking. "I was out for a morning ride when I saw you running. I thought maybe something was amiss. You are indeed, well?"

Siobhan could feel the flash of warmth pass over her face. "Oh yes! I was simply…eager to take a walk."

You sound like a highland fool. She scolded herself. A scruffy, foolish, Irish girl.

The young man smiled even more, a curious expression on his face. It was lovely and she couldn't help but smile back.

"I hope you do not think me too forward." He walked up to her. "But as I am visiting here, I should like to know the townsfolk."

He extended a gentle bow and hand. "My name is Keenan."

Siobhan hesitated. It was a proper introduction at an improper place. And he had not mentioned his full name or where he was visiting from. But his eyes danced with merriment and Siobhan discarded all doubts.

She took his hand. "I am Siobhan Danneville."

He brought her hand to his lips. "I'm pleased I decided to chase you, Miss Danneville. It has certainly made for a very pleasant meeting."

Siobhan knew her cheeks were flaming as she stood there with her mane of wild hair, but she somehow felt vibrant and alive.

Keenan. A perfect name for a perfect creature.

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And so ends chapter one. Be updating soon peeps!(: