‘As you like.’ The unexpected invitation sent a lightness through him. It had been a long time since he’d had anything to look forward to. He followed the men back to the ringfort, grateful that he would receive the figure of Egan back again. Though his brother no longer lived, at least he had this reminder of him.
An hour later, Kieran walked down to the shore where he found Davin, Orin, and Iseult waiting. He’d tucked a few bits of metal into his mantle, after scouring the hut for fishing supplies. Davin and Orin were loading a net and long fishing poles into the vessel while Iseult carried two baskets of what he presumed was food and drink.
He hadn’t expected to see her. But then, she was Davin’s betrothed, so likely he had invited her to come. Davin’s hands spanned her waist as he lifted her inside the boat. The dark grey overdress and lighter léine should have been unattractive, but it only highlighted her beauty. His touch lingered upon Iseult, and Kieran looked away, uncomfortable at the sight of them.
She was just another woman. It shouldn’t matter if she joined them, should it? She belonged here, at the side of her betrothed husband. And yet her presence made him feel even more like an outsider.
She didn’t look happy about joining them. Almost as if she were forced to come and didn’t want to be here.
He felt the same way.
Kieran grasped the stern of the boat and helped the others shove it into the shallow waters. Iseult gripped the sides, keeping her back to them.
The icy chill of the sea soaked through him, and when they were far enough out, Kieran climbed aboard. He picked up an oar and they rowed out into Brandon Bay.
Iseult’s long hair streamed behind her, wrapping around her throat as the wind increased. The waves rocked the vessel, and she held onto the wood to keep her balance.
Davin sat behind Iseult, and in every nuance of his body, Kieran could see how much the man cared for her. Her betrothed watched her as if fearing she would somehow disappear.
For a fleeting moment, Iseult glanced back at him. Misery dulled her eyes, and he had a sudden vision of her holding a child in her arms. Laughing with a young boy, teaching him to hold the pole. Sharing in his excitement when he caught his first fish.
And now the boy was gone.
How? When? The answers didn’t matter, because she was still hurting. And Davin appeared completely blind to it. He was teasing, leaning forwards and whispering in her ear. Though Iseult forced her lips to curve upwards, it wasn’t a true smile.
Kieran looked away, adjusting the ropes of the sail. This wasn’t his business. She wasn’t his betrothed, and it wasn’t his task to help her.
But the urge to protect was not easily subdued.
In time, the sails filled with wind, increasing the vessel’s speed. Kieran tasted brine and welcomed the brisk air lashing at his face.
He’d brought his sisters out in their father’s boat time and again, though usually Cara tried to throw water upon him. An emptiness caught his conscience at the memory. Both Cara and Aisling had practised their feminine wiles, twisting him to do whatever they wanted. Críost, he missed them.
As he tied off the sail, he caught Iseult looking at him. ‘Davin showed me the carving. You did well.’
He hadn’t expected the compliment, nor the slight softening of her lips. Her clear blue eyes contrasted against the dark grey waters of the bay, while the wind nipped strands of gold hair against her cheeks.
Kieran inclined his head, acknowledging her before directing his attention back to the sea. His pride warmed to the words, though he didn’t know why she’d spoken them. She didn’t like him. Was afraid of him, even.
Or was she? Perhaps things had changed. He hadn’t been able to answer her questions about her son. How would he have noticed a small boy, after the hundreds he’d seen?
When he risked a glance back at her, he found Davin watching him instead.
‘It was fine work,’ his master agreed. He laid his hand upon Iseult’s shoulder, as if to claim her. Iseult touched her palm to Davin’s in response.
Kieran’s hands tightened upon the ropes. He felt like an intruder upon a private moment, and he turned away. The sun gleamed through fleecy clouds, and, at long last, they chose a spot to set down their anchor.
‘Care to make a wager?’ Davin asked.
Orin eyed his foster-brother with suspicion. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Whoever catches the fewest fish has to clean them.’
Orin winced. ‘I’m not sure we should—’
‘I’ll take the wager,’ Kieran interrupted. Cleaning fish was never a task he enjoyed, and he felt fairly confident in his skills.
‘And I,’ Iseult responded. There was a competitive edge to her expression now, and he wondered what she knew that he didn’t.
‘I want to start with the net,’ Orin said, still looking unconvinced that a fishing competition was a good idea.
‘We’ll take turns with the net,’ Iseult assured him. ‘You can begin. I’ll use the pole.’
She opened the basket and withdrew chopped pieces of crab. Baiting her hook, she dropped the line over the side of the boat.
‘Pass me some of those, won’t you?’ Davin asked.
Iseult raised an eyebrow. ‘This is a wager. You’ll have to get your own bait.’ She tilted her head with feigned innocence. ‘Or did you forget to bring any?’
Davin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now that isn’t fair, a stór.’
‘Fair or not, it won’t be me cleaning all the fish.’ Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
Kieran adjusted his own line, unravelling a knot. He wouldn’t deny that Iseult MacFergus was an intelligent woman.
But then, he wasn’t above cheating.
Kieran waited until her attention was on the line. Then, he slipped his hand into her basket. With a quick gesture, he tossed a crab to Davin, keeping one for himself.
Iseult slapped his hand. ‘Those aren’t yours!’ Her cheeks burned with colour, when she realised what she’d done.
‘No, they aren’t,’ he agreed. Leaning forwards, he added, ‘But you weren’t paying attention.’
Her face reddened even more. This time, she set the basket between her knees. Lowering her skirt, she glared at both of the men. ‘You won’t be stealing my bait now.’
Were she any other woman, he would view this as a challenge. He imagined trapping her against the bow of the boat, moulding his hands against the base of her spine. He’d lower her against the wood until his body rested atop hers. Perhaps steal a kiss, if she were willing. Then the basket of bait would be all but forgotten.
Instead, he risked a glance towards Davin. ‘I could distract her, if you’d like.’
‘I don’t know if I’m that brave.’ Davin eyed Iseult with a light smile upon his face.
I am, Kieran thought. And from the way Iseult drew back, he supposed she knew it.
From that moment, she avoided looking at him. It was deliberate, and sensible. Whatever connection he’d sensed last night had been severed. They could never be friends, for they were not equals. She didn’t know of his former rank. And even if she did, she belonged to Davin.
From inside a fold of his mantle, he pulled out several rusted pieces of chain. After tying the chain to the line to weight it down, he tossed it over the side. He’d have better luck catching larger fish in this way.
‘I have something!’ Orin exclaimed. Eagerly, he pulled the net up, and trapped within the woven fibres was a bass the size of his palm.
Davin hooted with laughter. ‘You’ve caught your own bait, lad! Well done.’
‘You never said what size the fish had to be,’ Orin argued. ‘I believe I’m winning the wager.’
‘Not any more.’ Iseult’s arms strained, but her voice held a note of anticipation as she pulled against her pole. The water swirled, but she held steady, bringing the line in with her palms.
‘Do you need my help?’ Davin asked, reaching his arms around her waist.
; ‘No. I’ve got it.’ She tried to move away from his embrace, and abruptly, the line went slack. Iseult let out a moan of dismay. When she pulled up the remainder, she had nothing but a bent hook and no bait.
‘Pass her the net, Orin,’ Davin advised. ‘Iseult needs another way to catch her fish.’
She cursed beneath her breath. ‘I was doing well enough before you interfered.’
Davin grinned, but Kieran didn’t share the jest. He kept his concentration upon finding the right location for his line. When a fish struck, he hauled it in, rapidly drawing in the line as it cut into his palms.
Orin let out a cheer when Kieran pulled in a flatfish the length of his forearm. ‘Well done!’
‘He cheated,’ Davin said, shaking his head. ‘You were supposed to distract him by putting your arms around him, Orin.’
A startled laugh escaped Iseult, and for the first time, Kieran saw her smile. A true smile, not one weighed down by her sorrows.
A woman as beautiful as Iseult should smile often, he thought. It had faded away, far too quickly.
Kieran caught Orin eyeing him, and he sent the lad a dark look. ‘Try it, and I’ll knock you overboard.’
With that, the cheating only got worse. When Kieran finally got a second fish to bite his line, Orin grabbed him, to prevent him from bringing in the catch. Davin tried to wrestle away the fish, but Kieran managed to grasp the trout before they could hurl it back into the water.
Iseult collapsed against the side of the boat, her sides shaking with laughter. Her gown was damp with seawater, while her reddish-gold hair had tangled into a mass down her back.
Stop looking at her, his mind warned him, even as Davin helped her sit up again.
When she gathered her composure at last, she passed Kieran the net. His hands touched hers, and abruptly her smile disappeared. The expression on her face was nothing like the teasing smile she’d given Davin.
No, this was more. It was a startled look of awareness, along with guilt. Were she not betrothed to another man, he’d have leaned over to kiss her. He’d have pressed her body against his, tasting the softness of her shoulder and neck.
Kieran tossed the net over the side, angry with himself. It didn’t matter that he desired her, nor that he’d seen the same feelings mirrored in her face. Never would he let himself fall into that kind of dishonour, not after it had been done to him.
He’d be leaving by summer’s end, if he managed to gain his freedom. And in the meantime, he intended to stay far away from Iseult MacFergus.
Chapter Eight
For the remainder of the afternoon, Iseult tried to concentrate on fishing. She’d caught four respectable fish, Davin had five, and Orin had seven. Kieran had caught twelve, and he alternated between using the weighted fishing line and the net. He sat up in the boat, fully intent on the line and hadn’t looked at her once. Not since that moment when she’d given him the net.
From the second she’d touched his hands, every sense went on alert. His intense brown eyes blazed a warning, and her hands were trembling after she pulled away. Kieran Ó Brannon was a slave, not an equal. Not a man who could become a friend. Though he had gone along with the fishing trip, it was obvious that he didn’t want to be here.
Only a command from Davin had made him come. And from his silent manner, she guessed that he was not accustomed to taking orders.
Everything about him made her think of a warrior. His stealth and cunning, coupled with a ruthless demeanour, spoke of a man who had endured slavery but was not born to it.
And yet, last night, his anger had softened. He didn’t mock her, nor was he cruel after she’d revealed what had happened to Aidan. Instead, he’d held her hand. He’d somehow understood her.
Iseult looked down at her hands, holding the wooden fishing pole. When she looked back at Kieran, he was staring out at the sea. He had known the same pain.
No. Don’t think of him like that.
She moved closer to Davin, sitting so near that her skin touched his. He smiled in response, putting an arm around her.
‘I’m glad you came, a mhuirnín. You haven’t been yourself in a long time.’
‘I know.’ She forced herself to take his hand in hers. ‘I still miss Aidan.’
Davin smiled, but it held empty promises. It hurt so badly to think of her child lost and alone. It was hard not letting the search consume her. With each day that went by, the madness grew a little stronger.
She squeezed his hand in silent apology.
‘Now stop,’ Davin chided, pulling his hand away. ‘I won’t be letting you distract me. You’re going to lose this competition, a stór.’
She hadn’t meant it that way, but shrugged. ‘If you want me to wed you at Bealtaine, then perhaps you should allow me to win.’
Orin laughed, pointing his finger at Davin. ‘She has you there, my brother.’
Kieran said nothing, but reached into the bay for his net, the tendons in his arms straining. He had tied one end to the boat for leverage.
Suddenly, the wind jerked the vessel leeward, and Iseult fell back against Kieran. The muscles of his body were like stone, without a trace of softness. He steadied her, his hands cool from the seawater. When she regained her balance, he reached into the bay to retrieve the fallen net.
‘I’m sorry.’ She gripped the side of the boat. ‘I didn’t mean to make you lose your fish.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Davin interjected. He helped Iseult back to her seat. ‘She doesn’t like cleaning fish.’
‘It was an accident,’ Kieran said softly.
Iseult made no reply. His close proximity made her all too aware of him. He’d begun regaining his strength, his body losing its hollow appearance. Yet never had he appeared weak. Lean and wiry, with a touch of danger.
Davin, in contrast, was strong and dependable. Always there for her. She caught her betrothed watching her, before his gaze narrowed upon Kieran. Iseult moved back to her place beside Davin, to reassure him.
When the sun reached its zenith, she pulled out venison, dried apples from last season and cheese to share. Davin teased her because she continued to fish, only stopping momentarily for a bite to eat. If there was a chance of not having to clean the fish, she’d take it.
‘I arranged for the dower chest to be brought to Seamus’s hut,’ Davin said to Kieran. ‘You may begin working on it this night if you wish. And I brought this for you.’ He passed over a wooden carving. It was the boy, Iseult realised.
Kieran accepted the carving and studied it a moment before placing it within a fold of his tunic. His face remained sombre, and she wondered if the boy was still alive.
Davin passed her a flask of mead, and she took a sip before offering it to Kieran. His hand closed over hers for a fleeting moment. She resisted the urge to pull away.
To distract herself, she baited her last hook, tossing the line over the side. Davin helped Orin draw the net back inside the boat. Thankfully, Orin had nothing but seaweed.
Her own luck wasn’t holding. Not a single fish seemed interested in her bait. She glanced back at Kieran, who had cast his own line into the water. Intense concentration filled his eyes.
‘Have you been fishing often?’ she asked.
He nodded, still not looking at her. Clearly, he had no intention of speaking to her. Had she offended him? His rigid posture suggested that he had no desire to answer questions or reveal anything about his past. Least of all to her.
They set the course for Lismanagh, and the men worked to change the direction of the sails. Iseult gathered up the fish in her basket, and it seemed she’d lost the wager after counting them. Wonderful. The last way she wanted to spend her evening was cleaning fish. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
All throughout the journey home, Kieran neither spoke nor looked at her. In the sky, clouds drifted in to obscure the sun. The temperature had shifted, and the chilled air made her reach for her brat. She pulled the woollen wrap around her shoulders and over he
r hair to keep warm.
When they reached the shore, Davin lifted her from the boat, heedless of the cold sea water. His strong arms enveloped her in warmth, while he waded through the waves. Orin headed back to the ringfort, while Kieran lifted the basket of fish and started to walk back alone.
Where was he going with the fish?
Davin caught her look. ‘Don’t worry about the wager, a stór. Kieran will take care of the fish.’
She should have been overjoyed. She should keep her mouth shut and let him handle the task. But honour pricked her conscience. She had lost. It was her responsibility to clean the fish, despicable as it was.
‘Put me down, Davin,’ she insisted. He obeyed, though once again his touch lingered upon her skin.
With long strides, she caught up to Kieran. He hardly spared her a glance, keeping his attention upon the basket. If he was trying to behave in a humble manner, it wasn’t working. Instead, he seemed annoyed.
‘I lost the wager,’ Iseult reminded him. ‘Therefore, it is my task to clean the fish.’
Kieran shook his head. ‘You are his lady. I am a slave. It’s better for me to do it.’
He was behaving as though she were an arrogant noblewoman, who thought herself too good to perform menial work. She didn’t consider herself above the task, not at all. True, she didn’t like it, but the truth was, he’d won. Though Davin seemed content to abandon the wager, it rubbed her sense of honour the wrong way.
She moved in front of him so suddenly, Kieran was forced to stop walking. ‘Give me the basket.’
‘No.’
Before he could push past her, Iseult grasped the handle. ‘I do keep my word. And I don’t avoid my duties.’
He paused and glanced back at Davin, who had come up behind them.
‘You’d best let her have her way,’ Davin advised. ‘My Iseult has a mind of her own.’
She raised her chin. Well, at least one man knew what he was talking about. She dragged the basket away from Kieran, but it was heavier than she’d thought. It was a struggle, simply to hold it upright.
Her Warrior Slave Page 9