by Diana Cosby
“They will help me sleep?” he finally asked.
Tenderness filled her. “Aye.”
He grunted. “A wee bit, then.”
She convinced him to eat first, and after he’d finished the mixture, her father lay back. Pain-filled eyes shifted to the painting above the hearth, softened. “She was a beautiful woman. You look like her.”
Emotion tightened in her throat as Lathir packed the herbs and set the basket aside. “Though I never met her, I miss her. Odd, is it not?”
Amid the scent of fresh rushes and herbs and the faint wisp of smoke, a smile touched his face. “Nay. You have her tender heart as well.” His lids started to droop.
The valerian root was taking effect. “Father…” With him safe and healing, she needed to broach a topic that still troubled her.
Tired eyes held hers. “Aye?”
“You arranged my betrothal without informing me,” she said, her voice curt. Nor would she apologize. He’d breeched their trust by agreeing to it without her knowledge.
“I was to be here when Lord Torridan and his son arrived,” he stated.
Lathir rose to her feet. “And that makes your action acceptable?”
“’Tis time for you to wed, an issue I raised a year after Domhnall Ruadh mac Cormaic’s death.”
She swallowed hard. “I wasna ready.”
“Nor would you ever be.” Tiredness glazing his eyes, he adjusted his position on the bed. “However well trained with weapons or intelligent you are, neither brings you warmth in the night.”
“Or an heir?” she added, frustrated by the entire situation.
“An heir is necessary. I willna apologize for doing what I believe is right.”
“Saint’s breath, to not even ask me—”
“And if I had,” he snapped, his words thick, “would you have agreed?”
“Nay.”
“Which is why I arranged the betrothal with Lord Torridan, one with which you will comply.”
Chills prickled Lathir’s arms and she shook her head, unsure if she was angrier or sadder that her father hadn’t spoken with her first. “I have already agreed to wed Kieran.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes. “When?”
“Upon my reaching Wynshire Castle. Before Lord Torridan would help rescue you, he demanded I accept the union you and he had negotiated.”
Her father gave a tired exhale. “As for the betrothal, I only wanted to protect you.”
The anger inside faded. Fatigue at worrying about her father, Kieran, Lord Torridan, Rónán, and the others had her collapsing in the chair beside his bed. She didn’t want to fight, nor, regardless of her wishes, could she change the pending marriage now. Her father was alive. For that she would be thankful.
Lathir rubbed her brow. “I know.”
Her father shot her a hesitant glance. “The Earl of Craigshyre is a fine man.”
“He is.”
The chapel bell began to ring.
Hope surged through her, and she ran to the window. The stone sill cool on her palms, she searched the gatehouse for Rónán leading his small force entering the bailey.
Naught but women carrying buckets of water, food, and other goods moved about while men practiced in the lists.
“Who is arriving?” her father asked.
“I—” The ripple of a sail upon the loch caught her attention. “Lord Torridan has returned!”
Eyes drooping with sleep, her father nodded. “He has been successful, then.”
She fisted her hands. “How do you know?”
“He wouldna have given up, but fought until his ship went down.”
After meeting the fierce nobleman, that she could believe. She studied the majestic cog cutting through the whitecaps toward shore. “After we talk, I will inform you of what I learn.”
A soft snore rumbled in the chamber.
She glanced back.
Propped on his bed, face pale, the lines of strain easing on his face, her father slept.
On a hard swallow, she walked over and gave him a hug. However upset at his making arrangements for her betrothal, he’d done so out of love. Never could she hate him for that.
* * * *
Hours later, Lathir stared at Kieran, prone on the bed. Face pale, his eyes closed, his breathing remained steady.
The soft scuff of leather sounded as Lord Torridan stepped beside her. Since his return, after checking on her father’s progress, he’d remained by Kieran’s side. “Your father is speaking with the steward, but he asked me to inform you that once finished, he will be here.”
“I thank you. I thought he would sleep longer when I gave him the herbs.” She shook his head. “You wouldna know that, but mere days ago my father was critically wounded.”
“Lord Sionn is strong-willed, a trait,” he said with pride, “his daughter carries as well.”
A smile touched her mouth, faded as she took in her betrothed. “I am pleased that you and our men returned so quickly.”
A satisfied grimace touched the noble’s face. “We caught the Sassenach moored on the coast. With the fog beginning to thicken, they believed they were safe. Before most could haul up their anchors, our ships attacked.”
“Most?”
“Aye, though we sank most of their ships, one cog escaped.”
A chill swept her. “Then the English will be warned of the attack.”
“They will. I sent a runner with Bran to inform King Robert of what has happened, and to ask for support.”
Which explained the absence of Bran’s ship. “The English will be seeking vengeance.”
“Let them try. With many Scottish and Irish forces combined, they will achieve naught but failure.”
Aware most of the ships that attacked the Aodh once they’d departed Scotland were destroyed brought a wisp of relief, but far from eased her worry. “Mayhap, but until the English are brought to heel, they will continue their destruction upon both Scottish and Irish soil.”
“Indeed, but King Edward II doesna have a burr up his arse to conquer Scotland and Ireland, as did his father.”
A burst of sparks swirled up the smoke in the hearth.
She looked at Kieran, frowned. “Two days have passed since we arrived at Wynshire Castle, yet he hasna woke.”
“His body will take the time it needs to heal,” his father said, his voice somber.
“But he hasna moved, not even grimaced, as Aíbinn, my healer, tended to him,” she said, damning the tremor in her voice. “I would think by now he would have done something.”
Face drawn with worry, Torridan stared at his son. “I have seen warriors in this deep state of sleep before,” he admitted.
At the despair in his voice, she met his gaze, cursed the fear lingering there. “For how long?”
“A fortnight, a month at times,” he said, his voice tight, “a year or more. The waiting is always the hardest part.”
Heart pounding, she met his stricken gaze. “But they do recover?” she whispered.
Anguish ridden eyes met hers. “Nay always.”
Nay! Please God, let him live. Though she didn’t love Kieran, he was a fine man. Nor did she wish to see Lord Torridan lose his son.
The noble rubbed his brow, then cleared his throat. “I, as your father, am pleased that you and my son have become close. ’Twill make the years ahead easier.”
Understanding his need to shift to a less troubling subject, she nodded. “Your son is a man to admire.” But he wasna Rónán. Frustrated, she pushed thoughts of a life with him from her mind. “I was surprised to learn Kieran was the younger of your two sons.”
The earl arched a surprised brow, then understanding shimmered in his eyes. “So Kieran told you of the woman he loves.”
“He did.” Why was she surprised the earl h
ad deduced the reason so quickly? Since they’d met, he’d proven over and again to be an astute man, one only a fool would cross. Qualities his son held, as well as Rónán.
“Though we havena spoken of the son lost at birth in many a year, I know Kieran wishes his brother had lived so he could marry the woman who has stolen his heart.” He leaned back. “’Tis a poor topic to raise to your betrothed. I will speak to him once he awakens.”
“Lord Torridan, I ask that you dinna broach the subject with your son. Our conversation was naught that spoke ill of his betrothal to me.”
In the flicker of firelight, sage eyes softened. “Kieran would be a fool to dismiss your beauty, your intelligence, or your loyalty.”
“He is an impressive and clever man, one who looks up to you, and recognizes the need to place duty before personal desire.”
He inclined his head. “As do you.”
Nor would she pretend she didn’t comprehend his subtle intimation that he understood she loved another. “Aye.”
Lathir rubbed her arms. Where was Rónán now? From their time at sea, he had proven himself capable of overcoming the most difficult challenge. Nor could she forget that he was a Templar. Still, until he arrived, she’d remain on edge.
The noble shifted, released a rough exhale. “My wife was devastated by the loss of our firstborn,” he said, his voice laden with lingering hurt. “She, nor I, ever held Dáire.”
Compassion filled her, and Lathir stepped closer. “What happened?”
He shook his head. “One would think after all these years losing a babe wouldna affect me.”
An ache built in her heart. “I doubt one ever gets over the loss of a child.”
“Aye,” he breathed, “’tis terrible. A tragedy I wish no one to ever experience. You never forget.” His throat worked. “Oh, there are times when other thoughts fill your mind, but in the dark of the night, when you are unable to sleep, memories haunt you.”
The church bell rang.
“Nones,” he said.
She glanced toward the window. Hints of darkness stained the winter sky. “Aye, another day almost gone.”
The noble crossed to the hearth and selected several sticks. He knelt and placed them within the flames. On a weary sigh, he stood, turned.
“My wife and I had looked forward to our first child. She was so sure ’twas a son, she selected the name Dáire and wouldna discuss another.” Hurt stormed his gaze. “After the birthing, you can imagine our joy to learn we had a son. But in tears, Imag, our healer, told us the child had died at birth.” His fists clenched. “My wife was inconsolable, and I…was broken. Months passed before either of us broached the topic.”
“I am so sorry.”
“I thank you.” He stared at the flicker of the flames for a long moment. “Two years later, when Kieran was born, ’twas as if a miracle. More so as after, we were not blessed with any more children.”
Warmth filled her. “You raised a fine son, one who will make you naught but proud.”
Pleasure smothered the sadness on his face. “He has already done that and more. I—” He glanced toward the bed. Determination filled his gaze. “I look forward to the day I hold the son your union will bring.”
Moved by his strength, his love for Kieran, she vowed that never would she fail him. “And our child will wrap you around his finger.”
“He will.”
“He?” she teased, pleased when she caught the hint of a smile creasing his mouth.
“Aye, and one day he will be the heir to the realm of Tír Connail.”
“And the realm of Tír Sèitheach,” Lathir said, “both of which, by Irish custom, can be led by a man or a woman.”
Respect glistened in his eyes, and he gave a solemn nod. “So it can, lass. Whatever child your union brings will rule with a fair hand, but most of all, they will be loved.”
“They will.”
A companionable silence fell between them, the first since she’d met the powerful lord. That he’d trusted her enough to share such personal suffering left her humbled. Regardless that she hadn’t wanted this marriage, she was blessed that Kieran, as his father, were men to respect.
Lord Torridan walked over, lay his hand upon his son’s shoulder.
Kieran didn’t move.
Sadness filled Lathir at the father’s helplessness over his son’s condition. She yearned to do something to alleviate his worry. Mayhap she could distract him with a thought that haunted her.
“I thought Sir Rónán and the men fighting with him would have returned by now.”
A frown dipped his brow. “As I. Upon entering the stronghold, I had expected to find them here. Depending on what tactic he used to delay the Earl of Ardgar’s forces, or lead them on a false trail, it could be days yet.”
Something she hadn’t considered. “If Rónán has led the Earl of Ardgar’s forces into the bens, the journey will be slow and dangerous, which explains their delay.” She paused. “Though in the rough terrain they could lose the earl’s men, ’twill take twice as many days to reach Wynshire Castle, if not longer, considering the icy conditions, along with Ardgar’s men searching for them.”
“Indeed.”
Lathir stilled. “What if they have been caught?” she whispered, voicing her worst fear. “We would never know.”
“Aye, we would know fast enough. The Earl of Ardgar and I are longtime foes.” Lord Torridan grunted. “He would like nothing more than to cast Sir Rónán’s dead body, or anyone loyal to me, at my feet.”
“Yet you allowed your son to ride to free my father.”
Sage eyes narrowed. “Neither I nor my son will live in fear. Nor will I teach my son to be a coward.”
She nodded. A belief she shared.
“Nor do I like Lord Ardgar’s master-at-arms,” the earl ground out. “Sir Feradach O’Dowd is an evil man, one with a vile reputation for enjoying bringing misery to others, brutality he served to your father.”
She nodded. “Aye, he is a despicable man. Sir Rónán loathes Sir Feradach as well.”
Lord Torridan paused. “I didna realize Sir Rónán knew him.”
In brief, she explained how the ruthless man had adopted Rónán, not out of love but to do his bidding, and of his abusive treatment.
“The cur! I had already planned to lay siege to Murchadh Castle and end the Earl of Ardgar’s support of the English. Once your father has fully recovered, ’twill be a pleasure to join forces with him to serve just punishment to Lord Ardgar as well as Sir Feradach.”
“My lord, I ask that you dinna inform Rónán that you know of his past.”
“Nay, lass, and I thank you for explaining. Sir Rónán seems like a stalwart man.”
“He is.”
The uneven tap of steps sounded from the hallway, mixed with the clack of wood. Warmth touched her heart. Her father.
A soft scrape sounded as the door opened. Face grim, Lord Sionn shuffled his way across the chamber.
At the seriousness in her father’s expression, she tensed. “What is wrong?”
“Several knights who stayed behind with Sir Rónán have arrived.”
Lord Torridan stepped forward. “How many?”
Her father’s mouth tightened. “Four.”
Why hadn’t he said Rónán’s name? Lathir fought against a burst of fear. No, she was wrong. Rónán had come back with the men, a fact her father was about to share. “Sir Rónán?”
Her father shook his head. “One of the knights in his small contingent explained that Sir Rónán ordered them to leave, and that after he’d created a diversion, he would join them. So, they departed.”
Tense silence filled the chamber.
Panic clawed through Lathir. She didn’t want to ask, prayed she was wrong, but needed to know. “And Rónán?” she rasped, her entire body tremblin
g.
Regret filled her father’s eyes. “I am sorry, lass. They believe he is dead.”
Chapter Sixteen
Lathir’s body began to shudder, and tears burned her eyes as she fought to breath. Rónán was dead?
Nay, he’d promised to return.
Sworn to come back to her.
Vowed to—
“Lathir.” Her father’s voice seemed to come from faraway as the room blurred around her. Strong hands caught her, helped her to a chair.
“I am so sorry,” Lord Torridan rasped.
Her heart lay cold and heavy in her chest as she stared at the flicker of flames in the hearth. A spark popped into the lazy stream of smoke, faded to a smear of black. A sob came forth, then another.
Her father drew her into his arms. “Let the grief come, lass.”
How long she cried she wasn’t sure, but when no more tears would come, and her heart-wrenching sobs grew silent, she rested against her father, thankful for his presence, that as she faced this horrendous loss of a man she would love forever, she wouldn’t be alone.
* * * *
Rónán wiped the blood from a cut above his brow, struggled to see through the smear of red and hurl of snow as two of the Earl of Ardgar’s knights climbed down to the jut of rock he’d retreated to moments before. The stone, flattened on the top, provided him with stable footing; the width, enough to hold five men at most, limited his movements.
Arms trembling with exhaustion, he again swung his sword, took out the nearest man, waited for the second to move close enough to attack, dispensed with him as well.
The pounding surf far below seemed to taunt him, the rhythmic slam as each wave pummeled the base of the cliff as if chanting that his plan would fail.
Nay.
After he’d left the remainder of the guard, for the past two days he’d led Lord Ardgar’s men on a merry chase. He’d used the cliffs and dense woods as a foil, several times having set up false points of resistance, diversions that would fool the guards into believing he was accompanied by several men and had given him a chance to move to a new location to position more decoys.