"So am I Bran Cornick," she told him. "Now why don't you tell your boys they can come in. I think they have something to tell you that doesn't have anything to do with the rogue you brought in."

CHAPTER 5

Eanid was sitting alone in the study when Bran came into the room almost an hour later. His thick brown hair was still slightly damp from his shower and he'd changed into a pair of dark blue jeans and plain white t-shirt.

She watched him walk across the room her gaze touching on the short sleeves of the t-shirt that showcased the lean strength of his upper arms, then skimming down over his long legs encased in the loose fitting jeans. "Did you get something to eat?" he asked, as he opened the French doors and stepped out onto the deck and its view of the mountains.

Her eyes dropped to the unimpeded view of his backside. Eanid had been told more than once that the Marrok had a powerful personality, that his wolf was dangerous and dominant but that the man himself was unremarkable; average.

"Are you hu…," Bran turned back to her and smiled when he caught the direction of her gaze.

She could feel the blush that stole over her face, but it had nothing to do with embarrassment and she returned his smile with one of her own.

Unremarkable? Only to the deaf, dumb and blind.

"Charles and Samuel and I had scrambled eggs and bacon," she told him, setting down the book she'd been reading. "I apologized for my show of temper earlier. I'm pretty sure we're all friends now," she shrugged lightly, but knew that wasn't completely true. The two men were fiercely protective of their father, whether he needed it or not. They wanted to know just exactly what she was to Bran; if she was a threat to him in any way.

She wished she knew.

Her wolf was all about him. Hands down. Slam dunk. No fears. Bring on the full moon. The wolf wanted to be part of his pack.

The girl she had been still cared for him. Her first love and father of her beautiful Genna. She hurt for the pain she knew he still lived with. For the monster he had become after he killed his mother to escape her evil control of him. A part of Eanid ached to share that pain, to help take it away.

And there was no doubt the woman she was now wanted him. In the most physical and intimate ways a woman could want a man. But how much of herself could she give him and still be able to walk away? She knew herself well enough to know she would not, could not stay as part of his pack and not be his mate. The Alpha female in her could accept nothing else. If he offered her everything, though, would it be right to accept it?

Bran's head tilted, his golden brown eyes watching her closely. I can smell your agitation and your want, Eanid. The words slipped into her head, startled she looked at him and saw his hands fisted on his thighs. Come to me and I'll sooth you. The carnal heat suffusing the thought shot a thrill through her entire body. Their eyes met, and her voice was husky, "I can't," she told him. She saw surprise on his face. He hadn't meant to share that with her.

Oh, damn. Maybe Samuel and Charles had good reason for their hyper vigilance.

******

Bran looked away from her and called to the door, "Come in." He walked fully into the room and lounged at one end of the dark gray leather sofa, his expression losing all trace of the emotion and vulnerability she had seen so clearly just a moment before. All she could sense from him now was calm and mild curiosity about whatever it was that Charles and Samuel were here to tell him.

The two men strode in, gave Eanid a nod and then settled themselves in chairs opposite their father and at an angle from her.

"We really don't know if this is important, and Charles and I couldn't figure out who exactly it is that's being threatened," Samuel began, stretching his legs out and laying an arm along the arm of chair. "Uncle Mike called me three days ago. It seems Angus the Gruff told a friend of his he was going to Yellowstone to snatch up "the kin of the loathsome taffy what stole his magic wand". When this fae found out that you were the 'loathsome taffy'," Samuel smiled at the description, "he decided he was better off telling Mike than ending up on the bad side of the Marrok."

"Did you steal a magic wand, Da?" Charles asked, with a smile of his own.

Bran shrugged dismissively, "Angus challenged me to came of chance a long time ago. He lost. He's been calling me a thief ever since," he didn't look as though it bothered him. "Did Mike tell you anything more about whoever it is Angus is after? Could it be someone from the pack?"

"No, I contacted everyone in the pack, nobody had plans to go to Yellowstone and just in case I told them to stir clear of the place until further notice," Samuel assured him

"How dangerous is this Angus?" Eanid asked. If the fae wasn't after Bran's sons or someone from his pack that only left Mark and Liz and little Bran. Worry for them filled her. Tangling with the fae was always hazardous. Even werewolves and vampires gave the fae a wide berth and they knew what they were going up against. A human, her humans, whose knowledge of the fae came only from the sanitized fairy tales the fae leadership made sure stayed so popular, had no chance of coming out the winner in a one-on-one confrontation with a fae.

"Very," Samuel told her, "he alters reality. Makes you see, feel and hear things that aren't there."

"Does he have long nose with a bit of a hook at the end and dress in what looks to be burlap?" she asked, cringing inside when Samuel looked at her questioningly but answered, "Yes".

"And this Uncle Mike you're talking about, he owns a fae bar near the Pasco reservation?"

Another nod and her world crashed.

One unguarded conversation and the lives of her vulnerable human family was threatened by a powerful angry fae.

"Oh my God, Bran, what will he do to them?"

"Nothing," Bran was moving in front of her. "Absolutely, nothing," He lifted her in his arms then sat on the chair and settled her on his lap. His hand gently rubbed the back of neck, "If he has them we'll get them back," he sounded so calm, so sure.

Samuel and Charles watched them in silence. Samuel leaned forward in his chair, "Who are these people to you two?"

""I knew your Da when we were both human, I didn't know he'd been changed. I had no idea he was still alive until I saw him again yesterday. The people in Yellowstone, the one this Angus is after, they're distantly related to us. Angus found out about them and their relationship to your Da from me," she said, consciously keeping her hands relaxed and her voice neutral. Ripping apart the cushions or ripping into Bran's sons really wouldn't accomplish anything.

"How?"

"About eight months ago I spent an evening at Uncle Mike's. I was driving from Seattle to Salt Lake. I'd heard about the fae bar so when I got to Pasco I stopped there."

"How did you manage to go into a bar full of werewolves without the scent of a pack and come out unmolested?" Charles asked.

"I waited outside until I saw a werewolf leave," she told him, "I bumped into him and took on the scent of his pack."

"You can take on the scent of a pack you don't belong to?" Charles asked.

"I'm old. I have mad werewolf skills," she said wiggling her fingers of one hand in his direction.

Eanid leaned back in Bran's loose embrace. "When I went inside I met one of the Hill Folk, she calls herself Tom. Anyway, we were chatting and drinking Margaritas and I told her I was living with a human family, not a pack. That I was probably one of the few werewolf nannies in the states. Anyway, that led to talk about raising children, which led to talk about getting them in the first place. . . you know we were drinking, right?," she asked Bran's chin, deliberately keeping her eyes from meeting his.

"Umm hmm," he murmured, the sound rumbled through his chest and Eanid found herself relaxing into him even more.

"Okay, well," Eanid continued, and she picked up Bran's hand from the arm of the chair watching her finger trace the lines in his palm instead of at her audience. "We started talking about 'first times' and that my daughter was the result of mine. And what were the chances that you'd get 'caught' that easy. And that naturally led to a discussion about the father."

"Naturally," Bran agreed, closing his fingers over hers, trapping their hands together.

She paused, waiting for a sign from him that he wanted her to tell the whole of it to of his sons. When he gestured for her to continue she did. "And so I told Tom about him, my daughter's father. I told her that over thirteen centuries ago I met a tall, lanky young man with light brown hair who sang and played so well I'd never heard better, not before or since," She shrugged and finished, "I told her that his name was Bran, the bard from Dyfed."

"Da?"

"We'll talk about it later," Bran said coolly, and looked from one son to the other. Eanid assumed he'd been 'in their heads' because they both settled back without a word.

"Do you think Angus overheard you?" Charles asked, he gaze taking in his father's possessive hold on her hand before lifting to Eanid's face.

"I know he did. He came over to our table, ordered another round for me and Tom and told us all about his first love," Eanid sighed and said, "and then asked all about ours. Obviously, something I told him made him sure that the bard I assumed died over a millennia ago was really the Marrok."

"How did Angus find out about Yellowstone?" Charles asked.

"By the end of night Tom and I were best friends, I told her I would be back in July since Mark and Liz wanted to take Bran camping in Yellowstone and I would have a couple of weeks free. After six Margaritas it seemed like a great idea for us to meet up again."