Chapter 12
Brighit had tried her best to spread what powder remained on her face over the worst of her bruises.
It didn’t help that there was no flat surface of water nearby—nothing she could look in to help assess where it was most needed.
Her face was sore, but her stomach was even worse.
Misleadingly so, since she could sit for a long time and not even think about it, but when she went to stand, the pain was excruciating enough to double her over.
Near enough to see the others going about their duties, she could just make out Darragh sitting alone by the fire.
The rest of the area around her was dark, the leaves in the trees rustling their warning that the rains would soon be coming.
When they finally did come, she would be grateful to be ensconced in the carriage. However constricting, it kept her safe.
“Brighit?”
She hadn’t heard anyone coming over the wind in the trees.
Terrence came toward her, the sack of her belongings in his outstretched hand. “I think ye’ll find what ye need in here.”
She rummaged through it and pulled out the jar of powder.
Other men from their group mumbled greetings as they passed them, but the lack of light made it impossible for anyone to see what the firelight had revealed to Terence.
Still, she turned away to apply the stuff, then wiped her hands against each other before facing him again. She said, “Hopefully that works.”
He shook his head, staring at her with somber eyes.
“No?” As soon as she said the word, Brighit realized he wasn’t commenting on how well she’d covered the damage done her face.
“I need to hear how the bruises came about.”
The compassion in his voice unleashed her tears. She gave him her back again and replaced the clay jar, disgusted with herself for such an open show of femininity.
She cleared her throat, trying for a forceful tone. “I cannot tell ye.”
“And that concerns me even more.” He shifted behind her. “I am unable to figure out why something hasn’t been said to the rest of us about yer attack.” His hand on her shoulder made her jump. “Unless the person who hurt ye is the same one that should be protecting ye.”
She squeezed her quivering lips before responding. “Darragh knows nothing about this.”
“How can that be? The bedding…”
“I kept it from him and so will ye.”
“Never! How can ye ask that of me? If someone has abused ye, he will see ye avenged.”
“He cannot.” She slammed her teeth together to keep from saying what was right there on her lips. That man is dead. Instead, she huffed and said, “It does not matter because it will not happen again.”
“How can ye be so sure?”
Her mouth opened to shoot off a thoughtless response, but she slammed it closed again. Nodding her head, she said the only thing she could think to say, “Ye must trust what I tell ye.”
And that was the crux of the dilemma as she saw it. Trust. She had betrayed him by going behind his back and doing as she pleased. The result was that she would be marked as a murderer.
Ye are a foolish lass.
He had been, without a doubt, correct. Now she bore the result of her foolishness—and so, too, would he. Overcome with emotion, Brighit dropped to the ground with her head in her hands.
Terrence was beside her in an instant, his hand on her arm. “Do not fret so. Please.” He paused before continuing. “Is this the reason ye keep Darragh away from ye?”
She gasped at him. “No… I do not… Oh God!”
Quick to placate her, he mumbled, “No. He never said as much. I assumed. I did not know. Please. He needs to know.”
“He needs to know what?” Darragh asked, suddenly behind them. His menacing tone was undeniable.
Both Brighit and Terrence jumped up, startled.
“I asked a simple question. I do expect an answer. Simple or not.” He was visibly seething with anger. “And I would like ye to remove yer hand from my wife,” he added.
Terrence whipped his head around, looking at Darragh with an astonished expression, but he withdrew his hand. “Darragh—”
“I think I would prefer to hear from Brighit,” he snapped.
“I… I do not know what he is speaking of. There is nothing.” Brighit was proud of her even tone. Inside she was a quivering mess, and her knees trembled and threatened to collapse.
“There is nothing I need to know?” Darragh turned to the man, one hand circling the air in front of him impatiently. “So? Have yer say, Terrence. Tell me what ye believe I need to be told.”
His closest friend dropped his gaze. Brighit could feel the tension coursing through his body, his warring loyalties. And she prayed he would hold his tongue. Darragh was already angry—this was not the right way for him to learn the truth.
“Forgiveness, please.” Terrence faced his friend without balking. “There is nothing.”
“A thighearna.”
Iain’s return could have been better timed, but before Darragh could voice his irritation, Iain continued.
“They are Seigine’s men.”
His winded delivery of the information caught Darragh by surprise.
Terrence moved closer while Brighit stayed in the shadows.
He would have liked to pull her closer, demand that she tell him all, but this news was unsettling.
With great effort, he set aside his concern for his wife and looked at the man.
“Is he with them?”
“A thighearna. He is here at our camp.”
Darragh shoved past the man to trot down the path toward the fire, searching in the darkness. The men were not hard to find. Eight of them, standing around the flame and warming their hands.
“Seigine?” Darragh attempted a cordial tone. Much better to approach them as friends. He saw no reason to reveal he knew they had been following them, as such suspicion would be met with a less than amicable response. That the man had reinforcements was disconcerting at the very least.
“Darragh.” The large man bowed his head in a show of respect. His lips turning up at the corners in a closed smile, he said, “My men have been discovered.”
An odd response, but Darragh checked his reaction, instead widening his own lips into a pleased expression. “And were ye hiding?”
Seigine laughed. A deep sound that rivaled the loudness of the wind high in the trees.
“Forgiveness, please.” The man paused and glanced at Terrence and Brighit, who were right behind Darragh. “I am merely hunting down a murderer.”
Darragh glanced around in a joking manner. “And ye believe he has come this way?”
“I am following the very trail taken.”
Darragh allowed his surprise to show on his face.
“I do not think we passed a single person on our travels here,” he said, casually looking at the others for confirmation. His men had taken up positions around the MacCochlain warriors. A protective outer circle.
They nodded, also appearing relaxed. He knew they would be ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice should a threat present itself.
“But please, join us.” He motioned for Iain to see to sharing their ale and food. “We have more than enough ale and food for yer men. We will continue our celebrating.”
Seigine motioned for his men to partake of what was being offered before grabbing a horn of ale and settling on the ground. Darragh caught Terrence’s gaze and tipped his head the slightest bit. The signal was received. The men would be welcoming, but they would remain watchful.
“I am surprised ye did not approach earlier rather than setting up so far from us. We are a greater force joined together.” Darragh took a mug of ale, no longer of a mind to drink the honeyed wine, and returned to where he’d spread his brait to settle himself.
“If the murderer and the men that attacked ye show themselves, we will easily defeat them and bring him to justice.”
Seigine stopped, his horn halfway to his mouth and his face darkening.
“D'ye believe I wish to see to my own justice still, Darragh? Ha!” He drank from the horn, emptying it one gulp.
“Ye do not realize how persuasive yer father is. We signed the treaty. We will see this done according to what has been written down.”
Darragh shook his head and smiled, an easy smile meant to reassure. “I know ye understand the importance of the agreement. To disregard it would cause nothing less than chaos.”
“Agreed!” Seigine smiled, accepting more ale from Iain. “We had hoped only to give ye and yer bride some distance.”
The man’s eyes were on Brighit. She averted her gaze from where she sat slightly behind Darragh, away from the others.
“That is very thoughtful of ye, my friend.” Darragh took a long draw on his mug, glancing back at Brighit, who looked uncomfortable with the attention. “As ye can see, we travel with many men already. Not exactly alone, but we will have time alone.”
The men chuckled around them.
“The son of the ri túath goes nowhere unprotected.” Terrence remained standing a few feet from Brighit, his arms about his chest. He did not glance at Darragh, which was unusual. “Just as ye go nowhere unprotected.”
Terrence gazed over the well-armed men, who made a show of relaxing around the fire even though none of them had yet touched their drinks.
“Our group is intended to be seen as a show of force.” Seigine’s eyes, twinkled but there was no smile.
“Intimidating… but only to our enemies… never to our friends.” He raised his full horn to the men around them.
“Let us relax and drink with our friends. Tomorrow will be soon enough to worry again.”
Darragh raised his drink higher, and the warriors from both sides did the same before emptying their horns. The ale and mead flowed, and the different clansmen relaxed around each other, allowing the repast to end without incident.
Brighit kept to herself—Terrence annoyingly at her side. Darragh had little choice but to entertain his guests rather than fight for the opportunity to engage his own wife. Besides, he was no longer in a fighting mood.
“Have ye thought of any reason for the attack?” he asked Seigine.
“On us? Or on my brother?”
“Are they not the same men?”