Second thought assailed her as the men rowed the coracle toward the moored ship. Kieran was right about the children being safer with Bran and the others. She’d allowed anger and defiance to override reason, not to mention composure. She flinched as her tempestuous outbreak replayed in her mind. Heaven help her, she’d turned into a madwoman, no kin to the lady she was raised to be, or the sister of faith to which she aspired.
“Mount your brood up,” Kieran called over his back as he walked to Gray Macha. Still infused with the excitement of the evening, the horse stomped eagerly, ready to race again as Kieran sheathed the sword in its sling. “The journey’s just begun for us. If the children can’t keep up, we’ll leave them at the next cloister.”
“And to think, I was starting to admire him.” With a cryptic grimace, Fynn led his younger siblings toward the cart.
TWELVE
The morning sun bullied its way through the leafy covering of the glen where Kieran elected to rest for a few hours at dawn. Another half-day’s journey would take them to the main crossroad where they could procure provisions at a hostelry before moving on. If there was no sign of Maille’s soldiers, which was unlikely now that they’d left his territorial land, he promised them a night under a dry roof rather than another in the damp outdoors.
Riona feared they’d all take a chill after a soft rain soaked them during the night’s long ride. It came upon them in the wee hours of the morning before sunup, so they’d kept to the edge of the trees for cover. As Kieran pointed out, since they were to be soaked anyway, they might as well keep moving.
But these were children, not an army of hardened men, Riona thought, breaking off another tree branch to allow the warm, drying rays of the sun through the canopied fringe of trees. Everyone had stripped down to their leines and laid their outer garments out to dry in the small clearing. The three children slept in a huddle on a blanket Kieran had managed to keep dry in his travel sack. Next to them, he nodded off, his back to a stalwart oak.
For some reason, Riona had been unable to sleep. She’d heard Fintan say from time to time that he’d been too weary to sleep. Now she knew what he’d meant considering the lack of rest she’d had since Kieran’s arrival—how long ago? Four, five days? It felt like months.
She stumbled through the thick grass to the clearing to check the brats and cloaks. The rising sun brought a sparkle to the surroundings, giving them an ethereal appearance. It’s warmth felt good to her body, sore as she was from the hard travel.
Dry, she thought gratefully, fingering the rich woolen weave. She took Kieran’s brat and spread it over the children, tucking it carefully round them. The instant relief of the warmth relaxed the huddle of small arms and limbs. Riona’s mother had often warmed the blankets by the hearth on cold nights, making Riona and Heber feel extra special—safe and loved.
The thought of Heber and her mother acted like a vise upon her heart, closing painfully. At least he was with their parents. She was alone. Well, not quite. God had taken Heber, but He’d sent her three of His children as alone as she, and it did ease the pain. Their need for her left little time for grief and self-pity. They were her angels, delivering the message that life must go on, even if not as she had planned.
Throat constricting at God’s overwhelming goodness in such a time of travail, Riona gently placed her palm against the children’s cheeks and foreheads—no sign of fever. With a prayer of thanks, she again studied the fringe of branches overhead to make certain the sleeping figures had the maximum benefit of the climbing sun without it shining in their faces and then fetched her own cloak.
Kieran’s rumble of a whisper startled her as she settled next to him by the tree. “If you’d care to share that, I’d be obliged.”
Given that the children had both his blanket and his brat, she couldn’t refuse, even if she were inclined. Warmth was warmth and needed to be shared. This was survival, not courtship. She’d do as much for anyone. Riona stopped the nagging voice of reason, annoyed that she felt obliged to justify herself. “It’s nice and warm, thanks to the sun and its Creator.”
With a noncommittal grunt, Kieran leaned forward so that Riona might spread a portion of the noble cloak with its five great folds representing the five provinces of Erin over his shoulders. He took up the majority, leaving her a portion of the fourth and the remaining fifth for herself. When he wrapped his arm as well as the cloak around her, Riona could not bring herself to object. But she felt the need again to reason out that this meant nothing, certainly not forgiveness for his arrogance and vexing ways. Aye, he was warm-blooded. So was a flea-bitten hound.
Not a single dream invaded the exhausted sleep that claimed Riona. All she knew was warmth and the comfort of Kieran’s strength. She could remain like this forever.
Kieran roared and rolled away from her as if she’d bitten him in her sleep.
Robbed of his shoulder, Riona’s head struck the tree trunk. With a cry, she sat bolt upright, instantly alert, certain Maille’s entire army surrounded them.
Leila lay sprawled at Kieran’s feet as well, staring up at him fearfully.
“What is wrong with you?” Riona demanded upon seeing nothing that offered threat in the sunlit glen. Nothing to explain a comfy shoulder being snatched from under her and the rough bark of a tree smacking her in its place. She brushed the annoying pain at the side of her head. It was wet, as if she’d sweated profusely. What in heaven …
It must have come from her pillow, for the other side of her head was dry.
A second shout distracted her. Kieran grabbed at the front of his leine and stared at Leila, mouth hanging open.
“I’m wet, that’s what’s wrong! And I suspect yon lapdog’s the culprit.” He pointed to Leila, and the child scrambled backward toward her brothers at the fierceness of his accusing glare.
Fynn and Liex unfolded from their huddle, grinning sleepily.
“It happens to us all the time,” Liex consoled the glowering man.
“She wet on me, Riona,” Kieran exclaimed. “She sneaked onto my lap like a mangy cur and wet on me.”
Riona tried to master the humor tugging at the corners of her mouth. Poor Leila was terrified, and Kieran was in no mood to see the humor of the situation. “Come here, love,” she said to the child. “Did you and Kieran have an accident?”
“I had no accident. ’Twas her.”
Riona flashed a warning look at him. “Stop acting like a baby. Like Liex said, it happens.”
Mortified, Leila mumbled something into Riona’s skirt.
“What’s that, little one?” Riona asked.
Liex giggled. “Seargal did it.”
“Seargal?” Riona cast a dubious look at the little girl, but Leila wouldn’t glance up at her. She glared at Kieran in disgust. “This child has never lied about this before. You’ve frightened her into lying with all that bellowing.”
“The devil take him,” Kieran swore.
“Who? An imaginary figure?” Riona chuckled wryly. “Faith, you become more childlike by the moment. Next I’ll be wondering if you seek to blame this little one who cannot defend herself.”
With a growl and a glower, Kieran snatched up the cloak and started to wrap it about him when he realized his mistake. Tossing it to Fynn, he pulled his brat from the boys and shivered as he covered himself. His golden hair was damp and clinging to his head, as if he’d been in a shower, and his face was flushed.
Riona frowned. Here was more than normal body warmth.
Without a word, she stepped up to him and placed her hand against his forehead. When he made to jerk away, she grabbed the folds of his brat and held him. “Be still.” His skin was afire.
“We’d best be on our way,” he muttered.
“You’d best go to the stream and bathe. Faith, you’re soaked and burning with fever.”
“I’m soaked from yon lapdog!”
“She wasn’t sleeping on your head, ox.”
“I’ll be fine,” Kieran insisted.
“I took a chill during the rain. Now that I’m dry …” He cut his amber-shot gaze at Leila. “I’ll be fine.” He lowered his voice. “I thought they stopped such things at an earlier age than this.”
Riona took Leila’s leine off her and wrapped the little girl in her cloak. “Come, I’ll join you by the water,” she told him. “Why don’t you children see if you can gather some kindling? I saw some spring roots nearby that would make a tasty soup.”
“Shall I hunt?” Fynn asked, brightening. “I might bring back a squirrel or a rabbit … a bird at least.”
“That would be lovely.”
Riona waited, ready to do battle with Kieran if he did not change his plan to move out, but he offered no resistance to her taking charge. Instead, he ambled to the nearby stream, laid aside his brat, and dove in headlong, clothes and all.
Breaking into a run, Riona rushed to the water’s edge. She breathed easier as she saw the warrior’s blond head bob up, breaking the shimmering surface. As high as his temperature had been, she wondered the shock didn’t kill him.
“I warn you, sir, if you feel faint, get yourself out of the water for I’ll not be plunging in after you.”
“This water’s cold enough to wake a dead man. There’ll be no swooning in here.” A wicked curl tipped the corner of his mouth. “Although the company of a comely wench such as yourself would do wonders to warm me.”
Riona kneeled on a rock extending into the stream and proceeded to rinse out Leila’s shift. The sun was high in the sky, leaving plenty of time for it to dry before the night chill came upon them.
“She never did this until her parents died,” she said in a low voice.
“Who?”
Riona cast a sideways glance to where Leila, swathed in the oversized cloak, hobbled around collecting small dead branches that had been cast off by the winter.
“She talked as well until she lost them. I suppose the shock has yet to wear off. She was particularly close to her father.” Riona smiled at Kieran. “I think that’s why she’s taken to you.”
Kieran waded out of the water, oblivious to his clinging clothes outlining every detail of his fine figure. Riona looked away. Gleannmara’s king was entirely too attractive for his own good—or perhaps for her own good. She bent over the child’s clothing and rubbed it all the harder on the rocks, determined not to look, much less admire.
But it was too late. The image had embedded itself in her mind like a stubborn seed, ready to sprout at the least provocation. One would think she’d never seen a man the way she warmed from the bone out. Were it dark, she’d glow like a dragonfly’s tail.
“If you ever expect the child to wear that again, I’d ease my effort.”
Kieran’s wry observation struck Riona like a blast of north wind. Confound him, how could he possibly know what she was thinking—or rather, trying not to think? She swirled the garment in the water again, trying to destroy the perfect reflection of the man stripping off his leine behind her. Thankfully, he moved away before it became obvious what she was doing.
As she wrung out her wash, Kieran appeared beside her again, this time wrapped modestly in the blue and gold of Gleannmara. The sapphire brooch of his ancestors held the cloak draped over one shoulder, leaving the other muscle bare. He twisted the fine linen leine dry and shook it out before laying it over a rock. Riona smiled as she stretched Leila’s smaller one out beside it.
Even if Riona were disposed to marry him, he was a strapping lord with a need for blood heirs. Few in his place would take on another man’s lot as well. Her little brood, as he called the children, had hardly endeared themselves to Kieran.
Faith, they annoyed him at every turn.
Father, this cannot possibly be Your will. I’m so lost and confused that I cannot think straight, much less discern what You’d have me do. For this I beg pardon. See us through, Lord, give us—
A loud crack drew Riona from her prayer. Kieran leaned against the oak, the small branch that broke his fall, dangling from one hand. He shakily slid to a sitting position, his face a mirror of anguish as he struck the earth. Alarm seizing her, Riona gathered up her long skirts and rushed to him. She caught his face between her hands as he closed his eyes and shook it.
“Kieran! Kieran, what’s wrong?”
His eyelids opened half way, as if leaden. “ ’Tis that wretched hag Mebh. She wounded me right enough with that stable fork. ’Twas just a scratch, but—”
“Where did she stick you?” He was still hot, despite his dip in the chilly spring water. “Like as not, it’s infected.”
Kieran winced as he dragged aside the folds of his cloak to reveal a sinewy thigh. Two gashes streaked with red and purple and oozing infection marred its swollen surface.
It served him right for taking excess risk, but Riona said nothing. He clearly suffered enough. Surely the night’s ride had antagonized the wound even more. It should have been washed last night in the seawater. Many men lost limbs or died from the stab of the ignoble weapon as easily as from its nobler counterpart. For now, she’d have to hunt for herbs and pray she could stay the infection.
Or mayhap they should push for the crossroads. Could Kieran ride another half-day’s journey?
“Milady!”
Liex darted out of a hawthorn thicket like one of the Sidh’s own little people, his face as white as his eyes were wide. He half ran, half staggered into the small clearing, holding his stomach as if his haste pained it.
“Faith, what now?” Riona asked.
“It’s Senan and Maille, paradin’ big as ye please with company and flags flyin’ back there on the road.”
Panic jolted through her, striking a lump of fear in her throat. Forcing it down, she struggled to her feet, forcing herself to think. She glanced at Kieran, but he hadn’t moved, as if he’d not heard Liex’s pronouncement of approaching doom. Thank God they’d not lit a fire. Thank God Kieran insisted they rest away from the slige, out of its sight. She’d been so tired when they stopped, she’d have lain in her tracks.
“Where’s Fynn?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about him. He could snatch the fancy dillat right out from under Maille’s backside and neither ’im nor ’is horse’d be the wiser.”
With no time to correct the boy for his coarseness, Riona scanned the forested glen for Leila. The little girl stood near the water, watching her brother. At Riona’s urgent wave, Leila dropped her armload of kindling and ran toward her, cloak half on and half dragging.
“Liex, get the clothes drying by the water in case Maille’s men decide to water their horses upstream.”
“We’re hidden by the bend in the stream,” Kieran told her, breaking his silence with effort as he tried to rise and failed. “Just secure the horses and stay put and quiet.” If he felt alarm, it didn’t show. Or was he too sick to care?
Riona checked the horses and moved the wash as an extra precaution, despite Kieran’s assurance that it wasn’t necessary. Once the garments were hung on the blind side of the hawthorn, there was nothing left to do but wait and hope the travelers would pass by without event. Leaving for the hostelry was out of the question now. Undoubtedly that’s where Senan and Maille were headed. All lords, secular and ecclesiastical, would be on their way to the Drumceatt council at the high king’s invitation.
By all rights, it should be Father Fintan making his way there. Riona’s heart wrenched at the thought. Fintan dead, his murderer at large, Kieran falsely accused, the lot of them running for a fair hearing and the sanctuary of Drumceatt …
And now Kieran’s fever. It was enough to make a grown woman cry. Except Riona had no time for such indulgence.
“Liex, you stay here with Leila and Kieran,” she said, once she felt certain the party from Kilmare had passed them. “I want you and your sister to keep a cold cloth on his forehead and neck. He’s quite ill, I think,” she whispered, feeling as if she’d stumbled into a new nightmare.
Riona dug through the sack the brothers had pa
cked for them, producing the linen napkin their bread had been wrapped in. She handed it to the twins.
“When Fynn comes back, tell him to build a small fire and pack its bed with stones.” She thought a moment.
“Where are you going?” Liex inquired, a frown creasing his sun-pinkened brow.
“I need to gather some herbs for Kieran’s wound and fever.”
“Don’t leave us!”
Riona put her finger to Liex’s lips. Of course she couldn’t leave them. Father, I’m so confused. The little ones were terrified—and why not? So was she. Riona took a calming breath.
“Let’s eat and see if we can do so without making a sound.”
It was a miserable failure at distraction. Riona munched on a small chunk of bread until it was tasteless mush, trying desperately to hear anything aside from the sound of her chewing. The sound of horses passing in the distance, the occasional whicker or rise of a man’s voice, invaded the hush of the trees and the whisper of the moving water along the bank.
Judging from the trouble the twins had swallowing, they fared no better than Riona. Before they all choked, she put the bread aside and took their hands.
“We’ll pray,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “that Lord Maille and Senan keep right on moving.”
Pale and saucer-eyed, the twins nodded. Even as Riona’s words echoed again in her mind, a sense of relief came over her. The deathlike grasp of the children’s hands relaxed as they too received assurance. When she could think of nothing more to say, she just held their hands, listening for the enemy with her ears and God’s word with her heart. She should have recommended this “distraction” first, she realized above her heartbeat and the heavy sound of Kieran’s breath. Time seemed to stand, enveloping them in its stillness until a finch sang out in the tree directly over their heads, launching a conversation among the other birds. Like Noah’s dove, it signaled that the danger was over. The party of men had passed.
Crossing her heart with thanksgiving, Riona struggled to her feet on legs that had been numbed by her immobility.
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