Sandulf gave her an unrepentant look before he stepped away.
‘Aunt.’ Ceanna stuffed the nerves back down her throat and held out her arms. ‘How I’ve longed to see you. Come, do not be stand-offish. Let us hug. I’ve travelled a long way to see you.’
‘Niece, it is really you.’ Her aunt awkwardly caught her to her bosom. Her aunt smelt of wildflowers and incense, but it wasn’t a comforting scent, more overpowering and cloying. ‘I feared for you, child. What were you thinking, coming all this way? You should have sent word that you wished my counsel instead of making the journey on your own.’
‘I needed to see you, Aunt. I wanted to explain in person...why I’ve taken this course.’ The words that she wanted to become a holy maid stuck in her throat. She might have practised the speech many times in her head, but saying the words aloud was impossible. Lying to her aunt was wrong. And in this holy place, too! If she could see any other future, she’d take it, particularly after witnessing the silence the sisters were forced to endure. ‘I wanted your advice on my future.’
Her aunt released her and stepped away. Her face became remote and fearsome. Ceanna sighed inwardly. She’d conveniently forgotten what her aunt could be like—it was her way or no way, her mother used to say.
‘I do hope you’re not going to be tiresome, Ceanna. You know I’ll advocate you doing your duty. Always. Prayerful contemplation—something which you’ve been singularly lacking in—always grants me my solutions.’
Ceanna crossed her arms. ‘My duty as I see it, or what my stepmother thinks is my duty?’
Her aunt’s thin lips turned up. ‘Your father has your best interests at heart, Niece, even if his ways can seem brusque. Your stepmother is devoted to me. She would never counsel anything I’d disapprove of.’
It was worse than Ceanna had imagined. Her aunt had already made up her mind. She was going to return Ceanna to Dun Ollaigh without listening to Ceanna’s side. But she couldn’t give up so easily, not when her life was at stake. Ceanna cleared her throat and began again.
‘With respect, Aunt, my father is dangerously ill. Or weren’t you aware that he can barely string a coherent sentence together? His frame shakes when he coughs. His brow burns with fever?’
‘Your stepmother keeps me informed with regular messages. If there was a real problem, she’d send for one of my priests. This monastery has an excellent reputation for healing the sick.’
‘My stepmother has changed greatly in the past fifteen months. Feradach, my father’s new captain of the guards, has rapidly wormed his way into her confidence. Why are you willing to believe her messages over your own flesh and blood who has faced danger to speak with you and plead for her life?’
‘You’re being tiresome, Ceanna. Again.’
‘I doubt Lady Ceanna is ever tiresome.’ A muscle in Sandulf’s jaw jumped. ‘Please listen to what she says. She speaks the truth. I’m a witness to the destruction.’
‘Indeed.’ Her aunt’s gaze flickered over Sandulf and widened when she saw Vanora, who gave a small growl in the back of her throat.
She raised her brow and Sandulf gave an unrepentant shrug while Vanora settled back down at his feet.
‘I can fight my own battles, Sandulf.’ She turned back to her aunt, took a breath and started again. ‘Aunt—’
Her aunt held up her hand. ‘Spare me the pretty speeches. Why are you here, Ceanna? You don’t have a devotional bone in your body. I remember the time when you were six and refused to be quiet during mass.’
Ceanna clenched her fists. ‘I’ve no desire to marry Feradach because he will be terrible for Dun Ollaigh. He seeks power for himself and will destroy everything we hold dear. He has burnt farms and demands far too much tribute. My father will listen to your counsel when you tell him this marriage is against the best interests of all concerned.’
Her aunt’s brows drew together. ‘Feradach has an excellent reputation, which is why I recommended him for the post of captain of the guards. His younger brother, Brother Mattios, has proved to be a most able asset to our little community.’
‘With the greatest respect, Aunt, he is not the sort of man—’
‘I hope you’re not starting to take after your mother, Ceanna. Very frivolous and flighty in her youth, she was also stupidly stubborn. Once she had acquired a notion, it remained stuck in her head.’
‘Frivolous and flighty are two words which have never been applied to Lady Ceanna,’ Sandulf remarked. Vanora gave an approving bark. ‘Without her steadfastness, we would have perished on our journey. Your niece is to be commended, Mother Abbe, rather than berated.’
Her aunt’s frown increased. ‘Be that as it may, I know your father has your best interests at heart.’
‘He may do, but I doubt my stepmother does.’
Her aunt gave a disapproving sniff. ‘You’re his only living child. You must consider what is best for Dun Ollaigh. I can be of little assistance in this matter. I’d hoped you had grown out of your wilful ways after your mother died, but I can see you have retained some aspects of her stubbornness.’
‘My mother was your sister. You and I are blood. My stepmother wants to take control of Dun Ollaigh along with her lover, Feradach. She seeks to deceive you.’
‘What is it with women and their stepmothers? You are far from the first person to come to me with this problem, bleating complaints about the woman their father married.’
Ceanna slammed her fists together. Vanora hid her nose under her paws. ‘Please listen to me, Aunt. My stepmother wishes me dead so that she can rule Dun Ollaigh.’
‘That does not sound like Mhairi at all. She was always a pliable creature, keen to please, the perfect sort of wife for your father, in my view and Brother Mattios’s.’
‘The guide I was supposed to use to come here was attacked and left for dead and a woman dressed in my travelling cloak was stabbed.’ Ceanna ticked the points off on her fingers. ‘Someone sent you a false rumour that I’d been kidnapped by a Northman. If such a thing had happened to me, would I be here, in the company of a Northman? I suspect that I’d be bundled away on the North Sea, bound for Éireann or even further west to that new colony of Iceland.’
Her aunt’s mouth snapped open and shut several times. ‘There’ll be a logical explanation for the message. The most likely one for your disappearance was a raid. You know the troubles we’ve suffered since the Heathen Horde appeared on these shores.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Whatever the cause, I’m pleased you’ve turned up safe from your little adventure. Mhairi will also be pleased to learn the good news. It is well your father’s messengers chose to remain at St Fillans for another day.’
Ceanna stared at the floor. Unless she did something very quickly, she would be unceremoniously shipped back to Dun Ollaigh and would not emerge alive. Her aunt was clearly predisposed to believe her stepmother over her. Why had she not thought more carefully about the connection before? But then, where would she have gone? There was nowhere else. She glanced towards Sandulf, solid and real by her side. ‘I wish to marry another, Aunt. My lady stepmother would not approve because she wished me to marry her lover. It is really that simple.’
She was clutching at straws when she needed to be weaving a complete tale, but it was the best she could do. She willed Sandulf to remain silent and not to point out the obvious flaws in her story.
‘Another?’ Her aunt’s eyes widened. ‘Is this man suitable? I can’t see your father refusing permission if the man was suitable, Ceanna. I know how he has longed to have you settled. Until the proposed alliance with Feradach, marriage proposals were lacking, I was led to believe. I blame the freedom he gave you.’
‘Why else would I want to marry him unless he was suitable in ways Feradach can never be? I am hardly devoid of common sense, whatever tales my stepmother has spun.’ Ceanna held out her hands. Her stomach trembled. She would keep as cl
ose to the truth as possible and hope that she could avoid mentioning Sandulf by name before she had had a chance to speak with him and offer a proposition. Inheriting Dun Ollaigh through his wife, becoming its lord, had to be worth something. ‘My chosen husband will be better for Dun Ollaigh than Feradach ever could be.’
‘And you know what is best for Dun Ollaigh, do you?’
‘Listen to me, Aunt, I beg of you. I will explain everything Feradach has done.’ Ceanna rapidly told her aunt about all the evil doings she had uncovered in recent weeks—from selling off wheat and livestock and then claiming they were stolen to demanding time with young maids, and all the ways the people were suffering.
When she came to the end of her list, she went down on her knees. She had to hope her aunt believed her and agreed that Feradach was completely unsuitable.
If her aunt took her side, then the other potentially larger problem of finding a suitable bridegroom quickly loomed. She glanced at Sandulf. He’d remained silent during her recital of the ills which had befallen Dun Ollaigh and his face appeared carved from stone. Without knowing his precise thoughts, she could not declare an intention to marry him, even if she’d implied it. He was just as likely to denounce her and then she’d be in a worse position than ever.
Her aunt motioned for her to stand. ‘And you travelled here to repeat all this...this tavern gossip?’
‘No, Lady Ceanna travelled here so you could meet me and listen to my tale.’ Sandulf held out his hand. ‘Sandulf Sigurdsson at your service, Mother Abbe.’
Her aunt sat down on the stool with a bump. ‘You wish to marry this man! I know nothing about him except he is obviously a heathen raider and therefore our enemy.’
Ceanna stared at Sandulf. At her look, he gave a small nod. It was impossible to tell what he meant precisely. She slowly rose and tried to keep her excitement from mounting. He understood what she was doing and why. ‘Do you think it is wrong I should seek my aunt’s blessing in what I wish to do with my future?’
‘Why has your stepmother not mentioned him before? What does your father think of him? What is wrong with him?’
‘Why would she mention him if she wishes me to marry Feradach?’
Her aunt’s gaze narrowed. ‘He appears to be one of those heathen Northerners. I refuse to believe you have brought a heathen such as this one to a place like this. Or that you are seriously contemplating joining with him.’
‘I’d far rather join with him, as you put it, Aunt, than with Feradach who churns my gut.’
A flash of hurt shone in Sandulf’s eyes but was quickly masked. ‘You’ve such a way with words,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’ve important reasons for being here or I’d leave you to your fate.’
Ceanna clapped her hand against her mouth. ‘I beg your pardon, that came out wrong.’
Sandulf gave a brief nod to show he understood.
Her aunt coughed pointedly. ‘Anything else before I call your father’s guards? You’re the same as you always were, Ceanna—given to daydreams and imaginings. I can’t believe I was persuaded to think otherwise through stories of your good behaviour.’
Ceanna shuddered. This was going far worse than she’d imagined. Sandulf was about to walk out on her and she was going to be sent unceremoniously back to Dun Ollaigh, to her wedding and her death. The least she could do was to find Sandulf’s quarry—the man who had killed his sister-in-law and whom he believed had taken refuge in these walls. She drew a deep breath. ‘Aunt, your walls harbour a ruthless killer.’
‘Who told you that?’ The abbess jerked her head towards Sandulf. ‘That one?’
‘It is why he has travelled here—to warn you. It is how we encountered each other originally.’
‘You come here with one tale, Ceanna, about marriage and your stepmother, and now you wish to spin another.’ Her aunt lifted her hands towards the ceiling.
‘Lady Ceanna speaks the truth,’ Sandulf said. ‘If you will listen, I can explain. I have proof.’
Her aunt gave one of her snorts which always reminded Ceanna of a disgruntled cow.
‘Aunt, listen, please. The entire monastery might be in danger if someone has hidden his past in this fashion.’
‘What are you talking about, my dear? What do the past lives of my flock matter? That is something between them and the confessional. They are all honest hard-working people now. I will not have you impugning their character on the say-so of a Northman.’
Ceanna’s heart sank. She had made a mess of it. ‘The truth,’ she whispered. ‘About this.’
Sandulf reached into his pouch and withdrew a sheet of vellum. ‘My brother’s wife had the priest write down a list of the crimes as she suspected you would not believe a Northman. She is willing to vouch that my tale is true.’
Her aunt briefly glanced at the sheet of vellum before tucking it into her sleeve. ‘I recognise the seal. We have had dealings in the past, a long time ago. I will make enquiries in due course. If such a person is here, then he should be given the opportunity to explain.’
A muscle in Sandulf’s jaw twitched and Ceanna knew he was close to erupting.
‘I would suggest you do that straight away, Aunt.’
‘I wish to finalise plans for your impending nuptials. I won’t be distracted with tales of a murderer.’
‘I will speak of nothing until you investigate this man’s claim.’
Ceanna’s gaze warred with her aunt’s. Her aunt was the first to look away.
‘Very well, I will have my scribe look through the rolls to see if someone named...’
‘Lugh, son of Aidan.’ Sandulf gestured with his hand. ‘It is all on the vellum. I’m given to understand that he is here and has been here for at least eighteen months.’
Her aunt retrieved the vellum and looked at it more closely. ‘I will see what can be done as it is Annis of Glannoventa who asks. It won’t take very long, but I must assure you that I know of no man with that name here. If he is indeed as evil as this document suggests, then he must answer for his crimes.’
‘Sandulf Sigurdsson will be willing to wait until you have made your enquiries.’
‘We will speak further about your future, Ceanna.’ Her aunt nodded and left the room.
‘I wanted to do things differently,’ Sandulf said in a low voice. ‘Your aunt has taken against you.’
Ceanna raised a brow. ‘My aunt wouldn’t listen to a Northman. You saw. She barely glanced at the piece of vellum you shoved under her nose. Something is wrong here, something I can’t quite put my finger on.’
‘Do you think she will actually check the rolls?’
‘My aunt is a stickler for correctness. If she says she will do a thing, she does it.’
‘But...’
‘Men from the North burned down this monastery six years ago. They tried again last summer.’
‘I’ve never done anything against this place and I’ve every intention of saving them from harm. Lugh is a ruthless killer, Ceanna. I’ve seen his work.’
There was something in his voice which made her pause. ‘Are you keeping something from me?’
His gaze slid away from hers. ‘I guessed they’d be waiting for you. This is the worst place you could have gone to. I should have said something days ago. Given you the choice.’
Ceanna examined the rushes. ‘I had to try and I wouldn’t have listened to you anyway. I miscalculated my stepmother’s closeness to my aunt.’
‘Your aunt won’t allow you to become a nun. She won’t believe you are a holy maid. You allowed her to think you and I wish to marry.’
‘I needed some time. I will explain that she made an error in her assumptions. I will find a way to resist being returned to Dun Ollaigh. If I don’t, I’m sure I will not see next spring.’
‘Marry me.’
The words hung in the air. Ceanna was certain
she’d misheard. He was asking her to marry him! Not because he had any feelings for her, but because he thought the alternative would be her death. If he’d truly wanted to marry her, why had he waited until she had no hope left?
‘Marry you? Is this a serious offer?’
‘I can take a heavy hint.’ His voice deepened to a husky note. ‘I will not allow you to be sacrificed for your aunt’s ambition or your stepmother’s inclination. I saw what happened to Urist’s caravan. Someone is searching for you, Ceanna. I gave you my word that I would protect you until you reach safety and I will. We both know you are not safe here. Marriage to me will protect you.’
She ran her tongue over her lips and tried to blot out the horrible image of the mutilated corpse. Sandulf was right. Someone had tried to kill her and they would try again. That someone could be related to the assassin he hunted, a little voice reminded her. ‘You want to marry me to offer me protection? What do you get out of it?’
‘This.’ He leant forward and brushed her mouth with his. She moaned slightly in the back of her throat and he deepened the kiss. Her hands went about his neck and she clung on, drinking in his mouth, revelling in the way his tongue moved against hers. Standing like this, she could almost believe that he actually wanted her rather than that he had been forced into it.
He lifted his mouth from hers. ‘Will you?’
Ceanna ran her tongue over her aching lips. Her mind focused on the bow shape of his mouth. The many reasons why she should refuse circled her brain. He had not really answered her question about what he hoped to gain from marrying her. There was no guarantee that she could ever reclaim Dun Ollaigh after her father died. ‘I... I...’
‘What is going on here?’
Ceanna started to move away, but Sandulf’s arm twined about her waist and hauled her against him. Her body hit his hard planes with a thud.
Behind her aunt, she recognised several of her father’s guard. Men who had supposedly been going on an expedition several days before the wedding. Sandulf was right—someone had betrayed her...or perhaps they had just anticipated her escape attempt. She should have known that it had been far too easy.
Conveniently Wed to the Viking Page 14
