The exchange of the binding vows will seal their hearts together for all eternity, and once mated, they can never love another.

And that was the crux of his problem. He’d not fully claimed his mate because of the age difference betwixt them. He knew he would die before her. Possibly long before her.

And then what? She wouldn’t remarry because he was gone? She would spend the next score or two of years alone? The thought of her lying with another man made him nigh crazed, yet the thought of her lying alone in bed for so many years made him equally crazed. Nellie should be loved, cherished, petted, and caressed. She should be savored and . . . and . . . and—och! ’Twas an impossible conundrum!

It should be her choice, his conscience prodded.

“I’ll think on it,” he grumbled.

And if you die before you finish thinking on it?

Scowling, he slipped the tome into one of the clever pouches Nellie had stitched for him inside the blue robes he favored and was about to rise when he became aware of a presence in the room, standing just behind his shoulder.

He went motionless, reaching out with his Druid senses to identify the intruder, but whoever or whatever it was that stood behind him, defied his comprehension.

“Sit, Keltar,” a silvery, lilting voice said.

He sat. He wasn’t certain if he’d chosen to comply, or if her voice had robbed him of will.

As he sat tensely waiting, a woman stepped forward from the shadows behind him. Nay, a . . . och, a being. Wonderingly, he cocked his head, staring up at her. The creature was so brilliant, so lovely that he could scarce gaze upon her. She had eyes of iridescent hues, colors impossible to name. Hair of spun silver, a delicate, elfin, inhumanly beautiful face. He suddenly wondered if he’d gotten a bit of bad beef for dinner and was suffering some instability of the mind induced by poisoned digestion. Then a worse fear gripped him, one that made his head feel alarmingly light and his blood pound too fast inside his chest: mayhap ’twas his time, and this was Death, for she was certainly beautiful enough to lure any man to that great unknown that lay beyond. He could hear his own breath coming too fast and harsh, could feel his hands going curiously tingly, as if they were about to go numb. A cold sweat broke out on his skin.

I canna die now, he thought dimly. I haven’t claimed Nellie. He wouldn’t be able to bear it, he thought, blinking enormously heavy eyelids. They might never find each other again. He might be forced to suffer a hundred lives without her. ’Twould be the purest hell!

“Aoibheal, queen of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, bids you greeting, Keltar.”