The MacEgan Brothers Series Volume 1

by Michelle Willingham

  Loneliness sliced at him. She’d left him, of her own choice. She didn’t want him any more, not unless he promised her a life together.

  Didn’t she know how much he wanted that? What wouldn’t he give to wake beside her each morning, to know that she would be with him always? The emptiness in his heart was drowned out by Aidan’s shrieking.

  ‘What does he want?’ Kieran demanded.

  Shannon cringed at his sharp tone, and he wished he’d held his patience a little better. But what was he supposed to do? He’d fed the child, given him a warm fire. Aidan would be with his mother, soon enough.

  ‘He can’t sleep on the ground,’ Shannon pointed out. ‘Make a bed for him out of your cloak and some leaves.’

  It wasn’t a bad idea. He set Shannon to the task of piling up dried leaves, and he spread his cloak atop them when she’d found enough.

  ‘Go to sleep,’ he commanded the boy, lifting Aidan on to the cloak. The boy hiccoughed, his shoulders shaking as he gulped for air.

  Shannon laid down beside Aidan and rubbed his back. At the simple touch, the boy’s crying grew softer. ‘He misses our foster-mother,’ she said. ‘Maybe you could tell us a story. That’s what she used to do.’

  A story. What did he know of stories? The only tales he knew involved men being slain for glory upon a battlefield. Not exactly reassuring to a child.

  ‘I don’t know any,’ he admitted.

  ‘Yes, you do. Tell us a story about a warrior and a princess.’ Shannon snuggled up beside her brother. ‘Make one up.’

  ‘If I do, will you go to sleep?’ Both heads bobbed in agreement.

  Kieran wanted to groan. He wasn’t a bard. It was time for the children to sleep, and that should have been good enough. He didn’t need to waste time with a useless story.

  ‘Once, long ago, there lived a princess and a warrior. They were happy together. And that’s the end.’ He leaned back against a birch tree and closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

  A stunned silence met his grand tale before Shannon blurted out, ‘That’s the worst story I ever heard.’

  ‘You never said how long it had to be. Now, both of you, go to sleep.’

  A faint snort caught his attention, and he saw Aidan’s mouth smirking. The sight of the child’s smile speared his heart, for it was Iseult’s smile. So rare it was, and so precious.

  Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Tomorrow they would reach Lismanagh, and he would see her again. He’d give her what she’d been missing most of all.

  But he couldn’t quell the thought that it wouldn’t be enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Rory MacFergus was the worst sort of fool. Iseult wouldn’t at all like him meddling in her business.

  A wedding. After everything she’d been through, after casting Davin aside once before, she planned to marry him now? He didn’t believe a word of it.

  He’d told her so, to her face, when he’d gone to Lismanagh. Iseult had put on a false smile as though she were excited about the festivities.

  But she was lying to him. He knew it, for as her father he’d always been able to see the truth in her eyes. She didn’t love Davin Ó Falvey. Not the way she loved her woodcarver.

  And where Kieran had gone, he didn’t know. What he did know was that the carver made his daughter’s face flush with love. He’d never seen her so happy before. And something had happened to drive the two of them apart. He intended to find out exactly what it was.

  He’d decided to track down Kieran, starting with the Murphy lands where Aidan had been fostered. It was as good a place as any.

  Likely he’d come all this way for naught. He was going soft in the head, sure enough. The chances of him actually finding Kieran Ó Brannon were remote, not to mention that Iseult would be livid at his interfering.

  But what if the woodcarver didn’t know about the wedding?

  That would be a problem, now, wouldn’t it? Kieran couldn’t stop Iseult from marrying the wrong man if he knew nothing about it.

  Rory shielded his eyes from the sunset, knowing he’d have to make camp soon enough. He took a drink from his water skin, studying the winding path that led towards the Murphy lands.

  Then suddenly, over the rise of a hill, he scented stale peat smoke. A fire that had gone cold. He narrowed his gaze, seeing the silhouette of a figure ahead. He couldn’t make out whether or not it was the woodcarver.

  Spurring his horse forwards, Rory moved towards the tiny spiral of smoke until he reached the source. When he saw Kieran sitting before the fire, all the blood seemed to drain from his face.

  ‘Mary, Mother of God,’ he breathed.

  The carver was leaning up against a large oak tree beside an enormous pile of leaves. Two children slept upon his cloak. He recognised Aidan, who was resting his head in Kieran’s lap. The girl he didn’t know, but she was holding the carver’s hand in sleep.

  Kieran’s eyes snapped open, but he relaxed when he recognised Rory. His neck was stiff and he didn’t know how he’d dozed off when it was still early evening. The exhaustion of the past few days had caught up with him.

  ‘It’s only me, lad,’ Rory said in a low voice, dismounting. He tethered his mount and, while he tended to his horse, a smile caught his mouth. ‘Looks as though you’ve your hands full. Is that my young grandson, Aidan?’

  ‘It is,’ Kieran confirmed. He, too, kept his voice quiet. The children had been tired, but unable to relax. Aidan had started crying again after the story, and Kieran had only managed to make him cease by sitting next to the boy. One thing had led to another, and before he knew what had happened, both children were snuggled up against him for warmth.

  Rory lowered the reins and walked quietly over to stand before the child. His face softened at the sight of the boy. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve seen him. But it’s him, sure enough. He has Iseult’s face and Murtagh’s hair.’

  The mention of Iseult’s former lover made Kieran involuntarily clench his fist. Shannon’s eyes snapped open, and Kieran realised he’d hurt her hand. ‘It’s nothing,’ he murmured, softening his grip. ‘Go back to sleep.’ He released her hand and touched her hair.

  ‘Who is that?’ Shannon whispered, pointing to Rory.

  ‘Aidan’s grandsire. You’ll speak with him in the morning.’ Kieran exerted a gentle pressure on her head until Shannon curled up against him, burying her face in his cloak.

  He regarded Iseult’s father with all seriousness. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I came to talk to you about Iseult.’ Rory withdrew a flask from his supplies and took a drink before passing it over.

  Kieran sipped the lukewarm mead as if nothing were amiss, but Rory’s words unnerved him. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Now, don’t worry,’ Rory continued. ‘She’s all right.’ He sank down, letting out a grunt when he leaned up against a fallen log. ‘But she’s given Davin her promise to marry him.’

  Marry? Why would she agree to wed Davin again? Was the man threatening her? The thought made Kieran want to snarl.

  He gently extracted himself from the children, his mind racing. Damn it all, he didn’t want another man to have her. He wanted her.

  ‘What do you plan to do about it?’ Rory asked.

  ‘What do you think I’ll do?’ he growled. It tempted him to ride into Lismanagh and simply carry her off, like one of the raiders. She might forgive him for it. Eventually.

  He’d let her go to Davin, believing he had nothing to offer. He was wrong. He had her son, the child of her heart. And whether or not he could make a life for them, he was nothing but a coward if he didn’t try.

  ‘When will they wed?’ he asked.

  ‘Two days hence.’

  Kieran expelled the breath he’d been holding. It was enough time to reach Lismanagh before the wedding.

  What he didn’t know was why she had decided to marry Davin. And whether or not she would give him another chance.

  * * *

  The next evening, Iseult�
�s nerves were strung tightly. She couldn’t bring herself to eat anything, not even for the sake of her babe. Last night, she had argued with Davin’s mother until she wanted to bury herself beneath a coverlet and never come out.

  Neasa wanted to prevent this wedding at all costs. But Iseult hadn’t succumbed to the intimidation, nor the threats.

  Today was meant to be a day of happiness. Why, then, did she feel like weeping again? Not even her best friend Niamh had come to see her. Iseult didn’t know what was wrong, but she missed her friend.

  ‘Come here, a chara,’ Muirne urged. She held up an antelope comb and bade her sit down. ‘Let me arrange your hair for you.’

  Iseult relaxed while Muirne combed her hair and braided it, chattering about all manner of things. The interior of the hut smelled delicious from the bread they had baked, using the best grains of the season.

  Although the celebrating and feasting had been going on all day, Iseult had kept to herself during the festivities. The weariness of pregnancy was taking its toll, though none of the people, save Davin, were aware of it.

  ‘There. Now you look like a bride.’ Muirne beamed and hugged her. ‘And your gown is perfect for the occasion.’ Iseult raised a hand and touched the intricate braids which wound around her forehead and nape into a crown. Her long hair spilled down her back, and she wore a violet silk overdress and cream léine. They had been among the garments Davin had given as part of her bride price. She had asked Muirne to choose a gown, for she’d been unable to look at the carved dower chest without her emotions spilling over.

  A slight knock at the door caught their attention. Young Bartley burst in with garlands of flowers in his hands. ‘Davin sent these!’ the boy exclaimed, shoving them into Iseult’s hands.

  Muirne swatted her foster-son away, laughing as Bartley tried to snatch a crumb from one of the fresh loaves. ‘Go on with you.’

  Iseult lifted the garland of wildflowers, yellow gorse and purple heather, and set it upon her hair. When the last touches were finished, Muirne took her hands.

  ‘You don’t look very happy, Iseult. Are you remembering the wedding with Murtagh?’

  No. She’d been thinking of Kieran. Wondering if he had gone home again or whether he’d kept his vow to find Aidan. She had begged Davin to send men to the place they had searched before, but they’d found nothing. Not a trace of her son.

  Just accept it. He’s gone. You’re not going to find him, and you may as well start a new life with Davin.

  A heaviness rested within her heart, but she believed she was doing the right thing by marrying Davin.

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ she whispered to Muirne. And she would. Davin wanted to take care of her and the baby, and that was enough. It had to be.

  ‘Let us go.’

  * * *

  ‘We’re not stopping.’ Kieran urged the horse as fast as it was able, while Shannon begged and pleaded.

  ‘I have to. Or I’ll wet my gown.’

  ‘Don’t you dare.’ He tightened his grip around both children, wishing to God he had left them with Rory so he could ride to Lismanagh at a faster pace. But in his mind, he’d always imagined meeting Iseult with Aidan in his arms. He didn’t want to go to her empty-handed, not after he’d sworn to find the boy.

  Now he regretted his decision to send Rory on ahead, to try to stop the wedding. He should have gone.

  ‘Kieran, please.’ Shannon gripped her knees, her voice quivering.

  ‘We stopped at the noon meal. You should have taken care of matters then.’

  ‘I didn’t have to go, then,’ she whimpered.

  Damn it. He didn’t have time for this.

  ‘Make it quick,’ he barked, slowing the horse and letting her down. Shannon raced towards the woods, disappearing into the thicket.

  The sun was already sinking lower on to the horizon. It had taken all of yesterday and all of today to make it this far.

  And the wedding was today. Kieran gritted his teeth, wishing to God there was a way to travel faster. For all he knew, he might already be too late. When at last Shannon returned, he urged the horse faster.

  As if to mock them, the skies released a downpour. Heavy rain beat down upon them, muddying the grass and soaking their clothes. The day just couldn’t get any worse. His only consolation was that no one else would be celebrating in this weather.

  Both children howled at the weather, and he removed his cloak. Keeping his arms tightly around them, he gave Shannon the garment to raise over their heads.

  ‘Why are we travelling so fast?’ she complained.

  ‘Do you remember the story I told you, about the warrior and the princess?’

  ‘That wasn’t a story at all.’

  ‘The princess is about to marry someone else. This warrior has to go and stop her.’

  Shannon turned to stare at him. ‘It’s a true story?’

  He nodded.

  She seemed to think about it for a moment longer. In all seriousness, she added, ‘Then you’d better hurry up. Your princess won’t want to wait on you.’

  * * *

  ‘I can’t do this!’ Niamh protested.

  Rory crossed his arms. ‘It won’t take long. Just do as I’ve asked, and it will all be well.’

  ‘You’re asking the impossible. I don’t know how.’

  Rory winked. ‘Oh, I think you do know, lass. And you know how important this is. Get Deena to help you.’

  Niamh wrung her hands. ‘Are you sure? Because I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘More than anything in my life.’ Rory turned around. ‘Now go and find Davin.’

  Niamh raised troubled eyes to his. ‘He won’t like it. Why won’t you just tell him the truth?’

  ‘Because I’m an old fool who likes a bit of romance at a wedding.’ He touched the underside of her chin. ‘I have faith in you, Niamh.’

  The young woman sighed. ‘So be it. But if anything goes wrong, it will be upon your shoulders.’

  * * *

  The air was damp from the rain, the atmosphere not at all welcoming for a wedding. Perhaps it was an ill omen.

  Iseult walked outside, to where a small crowd of tribesmen and women gathered. Several other women, like herself, were crowned with garlands of flowers. The men waited on the opposite side with the priest, their faces eager with anticipation.

  But there was no sign of Davin. She stood with the other unmarried women, her gaze seeking him. As one couple after another paired off and spoke their vows, she waited for him to appear.

  Nothing.

  He’ll come, her instincts told her. Davin would never abandon you. He cares too much.

  Didn’t he? Unbidden doubts rose up, for he knew about the unborn child in her womb.

  The priest smiled at her, and Iseult stepped forward. At any moment now, Davin would appear. Though she kept a serene expression on her face, it grew strained as each minute passed. The priest could not begin the wedding Mass for the other couples until she and Davin had spoken their vows.

  Where was he?

  People had begun to talk, and the couples who had joined hands were watching her. When she looked over at Davin’s mother Neasa, the woman’s expression was as confused as her own. There was no smirk of satisfaction. Neasa hadn’t known anything about it, which made her even more uneasy. Iseult forced herself to look straight ahead, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

  When the rain began again, lightly falling upon her face, she was thankful for it. At least it veiled her tears.

  Why had he done this? He, of all people, knew the humiliation she’d suffered when Murtagh had not shown up for their wedding. And now, he’d done the same to her.

  Davin wasn’t going to come. He had never intended to wed her. She swallowed back the flood of tears, furious at herself for thinking she could trust him. This was his means of revenge. He was the only man who’d known about her unborn babe. And just as he didn’t want Aidan, he didn’t want to be a father to this child.

  S
he waited while the rain soaked through her gown and finally motioned for the others to go on inside the stone church. They could begin the Mass without her.

  As each man, woman, and child passed, she felt their stares and their pity. When they were inside, she ripped off the sodden garland of gorse and heather, tossing it to the ground.

  ‘Iseult? Do you want me to wait with you?’ Her father kept his voice gentle, but he was the last man she wanted to see right now.

  ‘No. Go and celebrate the Mass with the others. I want to be alone right now.’

  ‘It’s raining,’ he reminded her. ‘You shouldn’t be out here in the dampness.’

  With leaden steps, she trod her way through the mud until she reached the mound of hostages. Her heart felt as cold as the stone, unable to think of anything past her own pain.

  She rested her forehead against her wrist, ignoring the wetness of the rain. This was truly the worst day she’d ever known.

  Though a part of her wanted to believe that something had happened to prevent Davin from coming, the cynical voice inside reminded her that he was a jealous man. He’d been furious when he’d learned that she loved Kieran.

  No, Davin wasn’t going to come and take care of her. The only person she could rely on was herself. The weight of loneliness bore down upon her at the thought.

  The sound of voices interrupted her. Children’s voices, along with a familiar baritone.

  ‘Stop arguing, both of you,’ the man commanded. ‘Take my hands and we’ll go inside.’

  Iseult raised her face from the stone and saw Kieran standing there. His dark hair fell across his shoulders, his expression threatening. Drops of water shone upon his face, while his clothing was drenched from the rain.

  When she saw the small hand holding his, her heart cracked apart. It was him. Her son Aidan.

  Iseult’s knees crumbled like sand, and the tears flooded her face. He’d kept his word. Kieran had found her son and somehow brought him back to her. She picked up her skirts and ran towards the boy, crouching down when she reached his side.

  His face, the one she’d dreamed of for the past year, had lost some of its baby roundness. Dark, fine-textured hair framed his jaw, and he stared at her with blue eyes that mirrored her own.