‘Caitleen, enough.’ Her father sent his wife a dark warning. To Iseult he added, ‘I know you grieve. And if you want to search again, I’ll take you myself.’
‘Thank you, Da.’ She embraced him again, grateful that he, at least, understood her.
Davin Ó Falvey sat in front of the land he’d chosen for his bride. Without Iseult, his days were empty. The sun warmed his skin, but he hardly felt its rays.
He’d gone over their separation a thousand times in his mind, wondering what he could have done or said to make things different. He’d never loved any woman this way and couldn’t imagine letting her go.
Gods, if he’d known what was happening between them, he’d have sent the slave away. Or worse. His hand moved down to his knife, fingering the hilt.
But now she’d gone. Without a farewell, with no word to anyone except Deena, she’d left him. To her family, Deena claimed, but he didn’t believe her.
They’d made a fool of him, and the anger seethed inside.
His foster-brother Orin approached, his feet kicking against the dust. Almost as though he were afraid to speak.
‘What is it?’ Davin snapped.
‘Your father has been asking for you. He wants your opinion on a few matters.’
Davin’s jaw clenched. Alastar had no need of his opinions. His father had always done as he pleased, when it came to matters concerning the tribe. ‘He’s the chieftain. Let him make the decisions.’
Orin folded his arms, staring at the dirt. ‘It isn’t about that. He’s arranged for you to meet another bride. He’s going to visit the Donovan clan, and he wants to you accompany him.’
Damn his father’s interference. ‘I’ll marry a woman of my choosing or not at all.’
‘It’s a good alliance, so he said.’ Orin glanced towards their dwelling. ‘At least meet with her.’
He refused to consider it, caring nothing for a chieftain’s daughter whose status equalled his own. He would have Iseult or no one at all.
‘He can go alone,’ he said, dismissing his foster-brother. ‘I’ll not wed her.’ He strode over to the palisade wall, staring eastward. What had happened to Iseult?
He had to know if she’d betrayed him. Jealousy reared inside, boiling his anger to the breaking point. He moved towards the stable of horses, a plan forming in his mind.
‘Where are you going?’ Orin asked.
‘I’ve a journey of my own to make.’ He’d go and visit Iseult’s parents. Then he’d know if she had told him the truth.
‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea.’ Orin eyed him with suspicion. ‘Your father—’
‘—does not control my actions,’ Davin finished. ‘I will choose my bride, not him.’ And though it might be futile to dream of Iseult, he hadn’t given up hope. ‘I am going to visit the MacFergus clan.’
‘Don’t do this, Davin,’ Orin urged. ‘She made her choice.’
Davin tensed, unwilling to accept it. ‘A woman can change her mind.’
And he intended to do anything necessary to win her back. She belonged to him and no one else.
A single moon had waned, and Kieran travelled to the MacFergus lands to ask questions about Aidan. Without a horse, it took a great deal of time to reach his destination, but he didn’t mind the solitude. Each passing day renewed his endurance and strength. No longer did the nightmares of Egan plague him, but the loss of Iseult caught him at unexpected moments.
When he’d cleaned a fish for dinner the other night, he thought of her lost wager. Even when he worked upon a simple carved spoon, he could see her face in his mind, the clear beauty that would never be his.
When at last Kieran reached the clan’s holdings, he remained hidden for several days. Watching them, searching for those who might have arranged for Aidan’s disappearance. The quest for her son gave him a sense of purpose.
And then, unexpectedly, he’d caught a glimpse of her. Why was she here? Had she come alone?
Though he did not reveal his presence to her, remaining camped in the forest, he watched her. Like a starving man, he satisfied his need to see her.
She walked through the fields, her slender figure ghostly in the way she moved. This evening, she wore white, a gown that accentuated her ethereal beauty. A fey spirit, one who captivated him.
She wasn’t happy. He could see the loneliness in her face, the discontent. He leaned up against a birch tree, deliberating whether to walk into the clearing.
But what would he say? That he had found a trace of her son? That he needed her to confirm the boy’s identity?
Troubled questions flooded his mind. Had she wed Davin? Was he with her now? Though he had not seen his former master, it didn’t mean that Iseult was free to speak with him.
He wanted to talk to her. Even if he couldn’t touch her, just to look upon her face would be enough. The rim of the sun edged the horizon, the sky growing darker.
He held his position, surprised when she walked towards the forest. When she reached the base of the hill, she stopped before the grove and held a small dagger in her hand. So close, his heartbeat quickened.
‘I know someone is there,’ she called out. ‘Show yourself.’
He didn’t move. A long moment passed before she entered the trees. Her braid hung down her back, her skirts dragging upon the ground. She clenched the dagger, her eyes discerning.
Then her gaze fell upon him and the dagger slipped from her palm, striking the dirt.
‘You came back.’
His hand curled around a birch sapling, to keep himself from moving towards her. She stood no more than a few arm lengths from him, but neither moved. He wanted to embrace her, to show her how much he’d missed her. But he held himself back, for she was likely another man’s wife. He’d wanted that for her, a safe place to live and a man who loved her in the way she deserved.
‘I may have found Aidan,’ he said at last.
Iseult’s hand went to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. A mixture of hope and fear masked her face, but she managed to gather her composure. ‘Is he alive?’
‘I believe he is. But I cannot know whether it is him for certain.’
The tears spilled over her cheeks then, her hands shaking. He wanted so badly to hold her, but his feet remained rooted.
‘Take me to him,’ she begged. ‘We can go now.’
‘It’s too far, and we’ll lose daylight soon. Dawn at the earliest.’
A curse fell from her lips, her mouth tight with a frown. ‘If we must.’ She retrieved the dagger and pulled the edges of her brat closer for warmth. ‘Come and share an evening meal with us. I don’t know where you’ve taken shelter, but my family could—’
‘Don’t worry about me, Iseult. I’ll make camp here.’ He still didn’t know if Davin had accompanied her, and he had no desire to lay eyes upon the man.
She touched his shoulder. ‘Kieran, don’t turn me away. I haven’t seen you in so long.’
Her fingertips seared him. He was half-witted to believe that time would diminish his need for her. Even now, he wanted to ravage her, to clasp her slender body against his own, until she understood his fierce desires.
But not if she belonged to another man.
‘Did you marry him?’ The words escaped him with the desperate need to know.
She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. Not after what I felt for you.’
Hope and elation blazed through him. A fleeting second later, she kissed his mouth. It was so sudden, he might have imagined the warmth of her lips. ‘Meet me in the blacksmith’s hut later,’ she murmured.
Before he could say a word, she hurried back to the ringfort. Kieran lowered his head against the birch, knowing he was about to make the gravest of mistakes. Did he really believe he could spend a night alone with her, without joining his body with hers?
She deserved a far better man than himself. The problem was convincing her to accept the truth.
Iseult waited in the blacksmith’s hut, a fire flicker
ing against the twilight. She had told her father not to expect her home for several days.
Rory had reddened. ‘I don’t like it, Iseult. Whether or not this man Kieran has news of Aidan, I don’t want you travelling alone with him.’
‘He saved my life from Lochlannachs.’ She laid her hands upon his arm. ‘I trust him, Da. And you needn’t worry about me.’
He grunted, passing her the basket of food she’d packed. ‘He’s the reason you didn’t marry Davin, isn’t he?’
She could not meet his gaze. ‘One of many reasons. He…means a great deal to me.’
Her father sighed and shook his head. ‘You always did follow your heart, Iseult.’ He opened the door for her and added, ‘Take one of my horses, if you have the need.’
She kissed his cheek in thanks and donned her cloak. After securing the supplies to the horses, she led both of them outside. Silvery stars dotted the night sky, the summer evening turning cooler. When she arrived at the blacksmith’s hut, she tethered the horses for the night. She built a fire and settled back to wait, leaning back against the stone wall.
Would he come at all? She could hardly believe he had returned. Even so, he seemed like a stranger. She had kissed him on impulse, hoping to thaw the dispassionate barrier he exuded. It had only startled him, and he hadn’t kissed her back.
She covered her cheeks with her palms. Was she being foolish again? A ball of hurt gathered in her stomach, for she was afraid it would be like loving Murtagh all over again. Kieran might touch her with desire, but did she hold a place in his heart? She clenched her hands together, the doubts multiplying.
But then he arrived. Dying sunlight silhouetted his form, and she studied him more closely. He’d grown stronger since she’d seen him last. His dark hair still needed to be trimmed, but his face had lost the hungry planes. He wore a different tunic, a nondescript shade of brown that helped him blend into his surroundings. She wondered where it came from.
In his hands, he carried a string of fish.
‘You haven’t lost your skill, I see,’ she remarked with a smile, rising to her feet. ‘Am I supposed to clean those?’
‘I’ll take care of them.’ He didn’t respond to her teasing.
Her attempt at humour faded, and awkwardness silenced her voice. She didn’t know what to say, for it was the first time Davin was not a barrier between them.
Always there had been forbidden desire. But she wondered if she truly knew Kieran.
She took one of the fish from him, needing something to occupy her hands. Using a wooden plank, she unsheathed her own knife and helped him prepare the food.
He offered no conversation, no contact at all. As his knife moved over the fish, his muscles appeared tense, his face strained. Almost as if he didn’t want to be here. When she could bear it no longer, she asked, ‘What happened after you left Lismanagh? Where did you go?’
‘I went to see the slave traders.’
She nicked her finger upon the knife, gasping at the pain. Kieran came up beside her, setting his own blade down. ‘What happened?’
‘It’s nothing.’ But her heart thundered at the thought of what he’d learned about Aidan.
His hand moved to her waist while he examined the cut. She tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail.
‘I’ll wrap it for you.’ He brought a bucket of water over, lifting a dipper. The cold water spilled over her finger, washing the blood away. Kieran tore a strip of cloth from his tunic. ‘Sit down.’
He gestured towards a tree stump, and Iseult sat, trying to gather herself back together. The sight of the cut made her dizzy, and she forced herself to look away. ‘It’s not deep. You needn’t worry.’
He knelt down, taking her hand in his. Gently, he wrapped the cloth around the cut, tying off the ends. Iseult didn’t move, afraid he would pull away from her. No longer did she feel the sting of the cut. Instead, her awareness centred upon him. The way his dark eyes looked upon her, the roughness of his hands. She smelled the familiar scent of wood, and her gaze moved to his firm mouth. There was hesitancy in his expression and veiled desire.
Without speaking, she lowered her forehead to his, needing to be close to him. Though it was only an innocent movement, his warm skin made her remember everything about the last time he’d touched her. He inhaled a breath, as though fighting for control. Her hair fell across his shoulders, and he leaned his cheek against her own.
If she turned her face, his mouth would be upon hers.
Chapter Seventeen
So long he’d waited to touch her. Kieran was afraid of letting himself get too close, for fear he’d lose control. He desired her so badly, his hands were trembling.
Gods above, he didn’t want to frighten her. But the intensity of his need dominated all thoughts. Only a thread of control kept him from laying her body upon the ground and driving her to madness with the pleasure he wanted to give. A woman like Iseult deserved tenderness. He fought to keep the raw urges under control.
‘Your son wasn’t there, Iseult.’ When he voiced the words, her arms moved around his neck. He held her close, offering her the comfort she needed. ‘He wasn’t among the slaves.’
‘Tell me what you discovered. Did you see him?’
Within her questions, he sensed the terrible fear. ‘I don’t know if it’s him.’ But he had strong suspicions. Every instinct told him that he’d found her son. But even if it were so, she would be hurt by what he’d learned.
‘On the morrow, I’ll take you there. I believe the boy I found is Aidan.’ He removed the fish from the fire and prepared a portion for her, setting it upon a wooden plank.
Iseult accepted the food, picking at it without any true appetite. He suspected she wanted to go after Aidan now, even though it was impossible in the darkness.
The night air blew over her face, skimmed with the fragrance of summer. The peat smoke, familiar and comforting, eased him while they ate in silence. He watched her, the way shadows outlined the soft line of her jaw. The way her hair fell across her back in a silken web.
Without speaking a word, his gaze travelled over her body with an unspoken hunger. But if he made a single move towards her, he wouldn’t stop. His imagination envisioned pushing aside the linen gown, touching her and stroking her to a fever pitch.
Iseult withdrew a flask of wine from the basket, along with two clay cups. ‘How did you find Aidan?’
‘I watched the members of your clan. Only a few people had the motives to have the child taken away.’
She handed him a cup of wine, and he drained it far too quickly. The wine did nothing to assuage his lust, nor did it dull the frustration building inside.
Her face became strained. ‘I’ve asked everyone in the ringfort and in the surrounding area. No one saw anything.’
‘Perhaps you didn’t ask the right questions, a mhuirnín.’ Kieran cleaned his knife and sheathed it in his belt. ‘Or the right people.’
‘What do you mean? Who told you where he was?’
He hesitated, not knowing if she was ready to hear the truth. He didn’t want her to be hurt by what he’d learned. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Don’t keep secrets from me. Not about this.’ She slammed the pitcher down, anger brewing in her eyes. ‘He’s my son, and I deserve to know what happened.’
‘You do,’ he admitted. ‘But you won’t like the answers.’
‘Don’t try to protect me. The only thing that matters is Aidan.’ Her fingers curled up against her palms. ‘Tell me what you know.’
He met her fury with a steadfast gaze. Whether or not she was ready to hear it, he would grant her the truth. ‘I followed a man who travelled a day’s journey from here. He brought food and supplies to a foster-family who had a small boy with them. Then he returned here and was paid by your mother.’
Iseult stared at him before nodding slowly. She reached down beside her father’s anvil and picked up a scrap piece of iron. For a moment, she held the metal within her palm until it war
med. Then she hurled it against the shelter, the metal clanging against the stone. Fury ripped through her, for she knew he spoke the truth. Caitleen had hated the news of her pregnancy, claiming that no man of worth would wed her. When Murtagh had not shown up on their wedding day, she’d thought her mother was right.
She whirled, running towards the ringfort. A terrible anger flooded through her. If she’d had a weapon, she’d be tempted to strike out at her own mother.
Kieran caught her, holding her back. ‘Wait, Iseult.’
‘Don’t tell me to wait,’ she snapped. ‘For over a year, I’ve wept for my son. She deserves to know the same pain I’ve suffered.’
‘It won’t change the past.’
Perhaps not. But she intended to confront Caitleen for what she’d done. ‘Stay here.’
Her anger blinded her with each step. How could Caitleen have done it? Her own mother, the woman who had given her life. And for what? A narrow-minded view that a man like Davin wouldn’t have her if she’d borne a child? She didn’t want to believe it, though her heart suspected otherwise.
She pushed onward until at last she opened the door to her parents’ hut. Rory looked up from his meal. ‘What is it, Iseult?’
She ignored her father and strode up to Caitleen. ‘You took him from me. My own son.’ The accusations spilled from her lips, while she waited for her mother to deny it.
Caitleen blanched, her hand going to her mouth. But she did not speak. Her silence damned her as surely as any words.
‘Why?’ Iseult demanded. ‘He was your blood, just as I am.’
‘I did him no harm,’ Caitleen said. ‘His foster-parents are known to me.’
‘I wept for him,’ Iseult said. ‘Each night I blamed myself for not watching him closely enough. I thought it was my fault.’
‘I wanted you to have a better marriage,’ Caitleen said. ‘You were so enamoured of Aidan, you never saw the way Davin watched you. I saw a chance for you, and I took it.’
Rory’s face was outraged. ‘Have you no heart at all, Caitleen?’
Her Warrior Slave Page 18
