Iseult needed to live among a tribe, for the sake of her son. It wasn’t fair, asking her to give up everything. Críost, he could sense her pain. He loathed himself for making her feel this way.
She stood near the horse with her head bowed. He drew closer, reaching out to embrace her from behind. A moment later, he froze, letting his hands fall away. He’d hurt her enough.
‘We’re going to find your son today,’ he said. ‘I swear it.’
She nodded, but when she turned to him, there was no hope upon her face. Only disappointment. He told himself that it would be different when she found Aidan.
She would have her son; after that, she would forget about him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Iseult could hardly concentrate as they drew closer to the tiny plot of land in the distance. Hope brimmed up inside, though she tried to keep it at bay. She wanted to see Aidan again, so badly.
She shielded her eyes from the sun, staring hard for the sight of a small boy. He would be walking by now, running, even. His soft baby curves would have thinned into the face of a child.
As Kieran led the way, she recited a litany of prayers. When he slowed the pace at last, she spied a lone settlement in the distance.
Iseult urged her mare faster, unable to wait even a few minutes more. The circular stone hut was large enough to provide a comfortable home, certainly not a poor family. Surrounding the homestead were even rows of grain sprouting within the furrows.
Let him be here. God, please.
When at last she reached the dwelling, her hopes froze. Something felt wrong. She could not smell a hearth burning. And there should have been animals—geese and pigs, cows and horses. Although wooden pens were built around the hut, they were empty.
Kieran drew his horse to a stop, his gaze frowning. He sensed it, too.
Iseult closed her eyes, the prayers dying upon her lips. Even as she hurried towards the dwelling, the voices of doubt taunted her. What did you think? That you would find him, after all this time?
The hut stood empty. Though peat ashes remained in the hearth, there were no pallets, no family belongings. If Aidan had ever lived in this house, he was gone now.
She spun around and saw Kieran standing in the doorway. ‘Where are they?’
He shook his head, disbelief marking his features. ‘I saw a family living here, only a sennight ago. Your mother’s servant brought them supplies.’
‘Did you see Aidan?’
‘I saw the family. A woman and man, along with their children.’
‘That isn’t what I asked. Did you see my son? Black hair, blue eyes.’ She blurted out the description, as though it would mean something to Kieran. But of course, it didn’t.
He reached out and took her hand in his. ‘I believe he was here. I’ve no doubt that Caitleen arranged for his fostering with this family.’
Iseult pushed her way back outside, not wanting to hear what Kieran had thought. Her anger rose up, drowning her in helpless frustration. She’d believed him. Built her hopes up, thinking that she would hold Aidan in her arms again.
She couldn’t see, from the tears streaming down her face. And when Kieran tried to offer her comfort, tried to pull her into his arms, she wouldn’t let him. ‘You never saw him. You don’t know he was ever here.’
‘It was the most likely place. But we’ll find him.’
‘We?’ Her tears choked in the back of her throat. ‘There is no “we”. You already said you don’t want me to stay with you.’ She gave free rein to her feelings, letting them spill out. ‘Even if I’d found him, you’d still leave.’
And that was the final blow. Kieran claimed that he would find Aidan, that he wanted to help her. But in the end, he, like Murtagh, would go.
She couldn’t bear it again. And the longer she stayed with Kieran, the worse it would be when he finally left. For Kieran didn’t love her. Not enough to let go of his past and make a home for them. She understood that nothing she said would make a difference to him. Until he believed it was possible to build a life together, they had nothing.
‘We can ask the other villagers,’ Kieran offered. ‘They might know where the family has gone. There’s still hope.’ His hand moved to frame her jaw, his thumb wiping a tear away. ‘Don’t give up on your faith. Not when you’re so close.’
She covered his hand, wishing she could carry the memory of his touch forever. But it was better to stop now, than to make the heartache even worse.
‘I’ll never give up on Aidan,’ she promised. Lifting her gaze to his, she continued, ‘But I can’t go on looking with you,’ she whispered. ‘It hurts too much.’
He lowered his forehead to touch hers. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted to find him for you.’ In his voice, she heard the resignation. He wasn’t going to fight for her, nor try to convince her to stay with him.
‘Do you want me to take you home?’ His hand reached to her nape, caressing the tension.
She couldn’t go home. Not to Caitleen, knowing what her mother had done.
But there was one place she could go. A place where she could make her own choices. A place where someone loved her desperately.
‘Take me back to Lismanagh.’
* * *
Watching her leave was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Time slowed, and Kieran committed to memory the beauty of her face. Her hair that tangled around her shoulders like a fading sunrise. The sadness in her eyes when she believed he didn’t want her.
Far from it. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman. Branna paled in comparison to Iseult.
When he’d said goodbye, he’d wanted to hold her tight, feel her lips against his, one last time. But she’d held herself apart, not letting him close.
The rejection took him by surprise, bruising his pride. She’d made her decision. She’d chosen to return to Davin Ó Falvey, a man who would take care of her in the way he never could.
A surge of possession caught him by surprise. He’d thought he was doing the right thing by letting her go. But the truth was, he didn’t like it. He wanted her to stay with him while they searched for Aidan, for however long that might be.
She had disappeared inside the entrance, and he felt like an intruder spying on her. But he had to ensure her safety.
Kieran crept to the edge of the fort, continuing to watch her through the thin crevices. When Davin emerged to greet her, a look of startled happiness spread over his face. He opened his arms and welcomed Iseult with a warm embrace.
Kieran wasn’t prepared for the fist of jealousy that caught him in the gut. She’s mine. A growl caught in his throat. He wanted to smash through the wooden palisade and demand that Davin get away from her.
God in heaven, he was a fool for letting her go. And though he wasn’t at all the right man for her, this wasn’t over.
Far from it.
You chose this. You were the one who told her there was no future.
It was the truth, wasn’t it? He had nothing to give. Why would she want to stay with a man like him? Once, he had been their tribe’s greatest warrior, following in the footsteps of his father. He’d fallen so far, he didn’t feel that he could ever be the man he once was.
Fight for her, a voice inside him urged.
He gripped one of the wooden supports on the palisade, squeezing so hard, splinters dug into his palms. It would mean returning home, rebuilding what was lost. Facing his family.
He’d never planned on going back to Duncarrick. He didn’t want to see the blame in his father’s eyes for Egan’s death.
His father had loved his youngest son best of all, for the lad’s smile never failed to charm those around him. Egan had looked up to him, constantly emulating Kieran’s actions. It had humbled him instead of being an irritation. He’d wanted to be worthy of the pedestal his brother had set him upon.
But now, Egan was gone.
Could he return home again? He didn’t know if his tribe had forgiven him. It had been so long since he
’d been to Duncarrick. As an outcast, they might ask him to leave.
Kieran stood and strode back to his horse, his mind piecing together his plans. Iseult’s son meant everything to her, and he intended to get the child back, no matter what the cost.
And after that, he would find a way to give her the happiness she’d only dreamed of.
* * *
Iseult sat inside the woodcarver’s hut, staring at the tools Kieran had left behind. It was the middle of the night, and she had nothing but an oil lamp to light the darkness. Memories of Kieran drew her within.
She ran her fingers over the handles, remembering the hands that had created life out of wood. She remembered Kieran’s hands caressing her, as though he treasured her.
She laid her head down upon the table, eyes dry. There were no tears left to cry any more, not after a fortnight without him.
She didn’t regret her choice. Davin had been overjoyed to see her, though he didn’t pressure her into anything more than friendship. During the days, he handled the needs of the tribe, working alongside his father the chieftain. In the evenings, he spent time walking with her. Not once had he spoken of Kieran, though his presence hung between them.
She reached inside a fold of her léine, her hands curling across a carved piece of wood. Her thumb grazed each rise and swell of the wood, the details of the young boy’s face. Though it was not Aidan, the figure of the boy brought her comfort.
One day I’ll find you, she promised her son. Perhaps Davin could help her. Or her father Rory.
Would Kieran continue to look? She wanted to believe it, though she had released him from any obligation. Sweet Jesu, she missed him. Though it had only been a few days they’d spent together, it felt like years were gone from her life.
You’ll get over him, she told herself. She’d endured the pain of losing Murtagh, though now she understood it had been more embarrassment than heartache. She hardly thought of him any more.
Forgetting about Kieran would take far longer. She thought of his strong hands, his attention to detail in both his woodcarvings and the way he touched her. Her body shivered in sudden warmth and remembrance.
He had the most courage of any man she’d ever known. And yet underneath his fierce shield was a man who had suffered great loss. She understood him, for she had known the same pain.
An outside noise caught her attention, and Iseult stiffened as the door opened. She relaxed at the sight of her friend Niamh.
‘What are you doing here?’ Niamh whispered. ‘I saw the light from your lamp. Is everything all right’
Iseult nodded, mustering a faint smile. ‘I’m fine. I just…felt the need to be here.’
‘You’re so pale.’ Her friend put an arm around her. ‘Have you eaten anything?’
She couldn’t remember. Shrugging, she didn’t protest when Niamh handed her a hard piece of bread. It tasted stale, but she ate it out of courtesy.
‘You should go home,’ Iseult urged, after she’d finished the food. ‘It’s late.’
‘As should you.’
‘I will. After I’ve spent a little more time here.’ She picked up the figure Kieran had carved for her and put it away. The yew was smooth and polished, though the image of the boy was not finished.
Niamh sighed and sent her a knowing look. ‘Are you in love with him?’
Iseult rested her chin upon her hands. ‘Not with Davin.’
But her friend understood whom she meant. ‘What will you do?’
Her thoughts drifted back to Kieran. The bleakness of her life these past few weeks made it hurt even more to think of him. She woke up each morning, wishing to see his face. Even if she could never feel his arms around her again, it cut her heart to shreds worrying about him.
‘There’s nothing I can do. He’s gone.’ She met Niamh’s gaze, and her friend embraced her.
‘Maybe he’ll come back for you,’ Niamh offered.
She didn’t dare let herself hope for that. ‘Maybe,’ was all she said.
The door swung open, and Davin ducked inside. His fair hair hung ragged against his neck, his clothes thrown on as if in a hurry. ‘I thought I might find you here.’
He kept his tone soft, but Iseult didn’t miss the jealousy within it.
Niamh moved beside her, taking her hand. Bless her. Iseult raised weary eyes, afraid of what Davin might say.
‘Do you want me to stay?’ her friend asked.
‘I’d like to speak with Iseult alone.’ Davin gave a pointed look towards the door, but Niamh held her ground.
‘I wasn’t asking you. Iseult?’
It wasn’t fair to put Niamh in the middle, not when Davin wanted nothing but a conversation. ‘It’s all right. I’ll speak with you on the morrow.’
When her friend had left, Davin closed the door. His expression was grim, his eyes empty. ‘Even now, you go to him.’
He sat down, staring at the empty hearth. ‘I thought if you were away from him, you’d forget him. The way you did Murtagh.’
‘There was nothing between Murtagh and myself, save the one night we were lovers.’ She sat beside him, leaning her cheek against her hand.
Davin looked as haggard as she felt, and when he raked a hand through his hair, she caught sight of his grief. ‘You love him, don’t you?’
She nodded slowly. The look of anguish upon his face startled her. And she realised that Davin had never stopped caring for her.
‘I’m sorry for what I did.’ He reached out to take her hand. His fingers closed over hers in the lightest caress. ‘I know that I can’t change your heart. But I’d like to ask for a second chance.’
She didn’t answer for a long moment. The air inside the hut seemed to resonate with Kieran’s presence. He was here, with her, despite his physical absence.
Could she ever go back to Davin, after this?
‘I’ll think about it.’ She could promise nothing more.
* * *
Sometimes men didn’t know what was best for them. And Niamh had decided that the time had come to actively pursue Davin Ó Falvey. Though she had tried to gain his notice after Iseult had gone, he’d been so wrapped up in his own misery, it was too soon for him to even consider it.
But now time was running out. With Iseult back again, Davin was sliding back into his former lovesick self.
Couldn’t the man see that Iseult was in love with Kieran? And couldn’t he turn his attention to her, instead? Though she doubted there was even the faintest chance, this would be her last attempt.
Niamh armed herself with courage and a full ewer of ale. Likely her luck would improve if Davin were completely drunk.
He’d gone to the stables that evening after the meal, to tend his gelding Lir. Niamh waited to be sure no one was watching and followed him, carrying the ale and two clay mugs. Though she normally did not enjoy ale, preferring wine, she supposed she’d have to suffer through it. Davin likely wouldn’t want to drink alone.
Inside the stables, he smoothed the flanks of his horse, murmuring in a low voice.
‘I brought you some ale,’ Niamh said, pouring him a cup.
‘In the stables?’ Davin frowned, sniffing the brew.
‘Why not?’ She set the ewer down and behaved as if people normally drank ale amidst the horses.
He wasn’t at all fooled. ‘Was there something you wanted?’
Only for you to look upon me in the same way as you do Iseult. The man was blind, never seeing what was right in front of him. But Niamh did not speak her innermost thoughts.
She leaned up against a wooden stall, sipping her own mug of ale. It tasted as terrible as she remembered, but she managed to choke it down. ‘Why not tell me what’s troubling you?’ she suggested. ‘I’m a good listener.’
Davin’s lips curved in a patronising smile. ‘I won’t burden you with our tribe’s needs, Niamh.’
Liar. He wasn’t thinking of the tribe at all.
‘You’re thinking of Iseult,’ Niamh predicted, keeping
her voice light, as if the answer didn’t matter. ‘She is very beautiful.’
The way I’m not. But then, she’d come to terms with her plain face. She couldn’t do anything about what God had given her, so she’d have to make the most of her wits.
Davin took a long drink of ale and looked around the stable, as if hoping to escape once again.
‘You still love her, don’t you?’ Niamh had no qualms about asking a direct question. When he nodded slowly, the pain was evident in his eyes. Fool that she was, she found him attractive. And she was drawn to his wounded, misguided heart.
She took his cup from him and refilled it once more. ‘You’re a good man, Davin Ó Falvey, even if you’ve made some mistakes.’
‘And what mistakes would those be?’
Niamh held out her hand, counting off her fingers. ‘Let me see. Not looking for Iseult’s son, bullying her when she tried to leave, threatening to kill Kieran…shall I go on?’
Davin reached for the ewer and refilled his mug. In the shadows of the barn, his gold hair appeared darker. His cheeks were stony, his blue eyes haggard. ‘I did what I thought was right.’
Niamh rolled her eyes. ‘You were stupid, that’s what. The choice has to be hers.’
He drained the mug of ale. ‘Are you trying to make me feel better? Because if you are, it’s not working.’
‘I’m simply stating the truth.’ She refilled his mug again and found him staring at her. Those blue eyes, intelligent and honest, made her transform from a sensible young woman into the worst sort of halfwit. What she wouldn’t give to be kissed by a man such as him. Someone who knew what a woman dreamed of.
Davin shook his head, gripping the mug as though it were a man’s throat. ‘Things didn’t end well between us. I almost went after her.’ He expelled a rough laugh. ‘That would have been pitiful, wouldn’t it? But I’m afraid I won’t be able to make things right. I said terrible things to her.’
Oh, saints above. He was treating her as his confessor, wanting advice. This was going terribly wrong.
‘Well, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find another woman to wed.’ She drank her own mug of ale and found that the taste wasn’t so bad. Then again, her head was feeling a trifle muzzy.
The MacEgan Brothers Series Volume 1 Page 20