Chapter Thirty-Four
R ain pounded on the roof of the hut, no harder than Ardahl’s own heartbeat. He should arise from the sleeping bench and leave. Some madness had come into his head, and it lingered there yet, though a few strands of sense still threaded their way through.
Enough to assure he’d withdrawn from the warm haven of Liadan’s body before he gave her what he should not. Enough to know he could not hurt or harm her in any way.
He should remove his weight from her now. Young and tender, bearing the wounds got during the attack, she was not accustomed to accommodating him.
She might well want him gone.
Yet he remained where he was with his face buried in her neck, breathing her scent, groping for those strands of good sense. He felt changed by what had just happened.
Everything had changed.
Who would have thought it? Conall’s wee sister. But out of a terrible darkness had come a precious flame.
Surely he might warm himself at it for a few blessed moments before tearing himself away.
“Ardahl.” He liked the way she spoke his name. It echoed through him like a song, an ancient and beautiful one. He liked the scent of her and even more the way she tasted. He liked the feel of her when he was inside, the way she gripped him with her whole being.
She had begged for him inside.
Nay, he could not move away from her just yet.
Did her arms not clutch at him? Hold him tight? Her palms ran over his back as if she would memorize the feel of him. She did not seem to mind that he had spilled himself on her skin.
“Liadan.” Still half dazed, he sought words.
“Um?” She kissed the side of his face and his ear, through his hair.
“I am meant to protect ye. To guard and defend ye. In your brother’s place. Not—not—”
“And do ye no’ defend me? Wi’ your very body.”
“Not what Aodh intended.”
“Aodh is dead. So many are dead—we are no’.”
Indeed, they were not. They had risen together on one set of wings, strong wings that had bound them together.
Yet it could not be.
“I am commanded to serve ye.”
“Then serve me.” She stirred beneath him, moved with a wisdom beyond her experience, a woman’s wisdom. He settled once more between her thighs.
“Liadan, I must arise.”
“Arise.” She breathed it in his ear, and he did.
“If we are discovered, ’twill mean terrible disgrace. Ruination.”
“How might we be discovered? No one is here save, perhaps, a few ghosts.”
Ghosts.
“Should my mam return—”
“She will not yet. And if she did, can ye imagine she would betray us?”
She would be shocked. She would not betray him, though.
“Ardahl, I do no’ care what the druids say. What anyone else says. We have been given this—this wondrous thing. Given it out o’ a world of darkness. Can we deny it?”
He could not.
“Please,” she breathed in his ear, and guided his mouth to her breast.
*
The rain ended late the next morning. Ardahl had drowsed for a time in Liadan’s arms before gathering his wits and enough of his intentions to leave her. He’d washed outside, the taste of her still on his tongue, before heading off with his weapons for the training field.
He would go through his day, perform his duties, and meet his obligations while pretending—pretending nothing had changed.
Yet everything had. He was not the man he’d been when he lay down with Liadan last evening. Indeed, he might appear the same, seek to behave the same.
He was a different man, indeed. He now carried a part of Liadan—a large and significant part—inside him. She filled him, clung to him, whispered to him. No longer alone, he must harbor her like a precious secret.
No one could know.
Physically, last night had been like nothing he’d ever experienced. From the moment she’d stripped away his wet clothing and touched him, he’d been claimed entirely. And the moment he’d entered her, he’d claimed her also—flesh no longer just flesh, but something that made one of them part of the other.
Who would imagine coupling could be like that? A thing of spirit as much as flesh and blood.
Not to say the physical part had not mattered. It had. Her breasts were a soft haven, her thighs a place of sweet welcome. She was perfection. But his desire for her reached beyond that, so strong it terrified him.
Once known, how might he live without her?
His mam had not come home by the time he left. No one knew what they had done. Liadan had straightened up the sleeping place, built the fire. Given him breakfast.
Kissed him goodbye.
He might never have the chance to lie with her so again. If he did not, it would hurt like a constant, open wound.
Better to carry that wound than not to have had her at all.
At the training field, Dornach set them to drilling upon the sodden ground. Ardahl once more trained with Fearghal, and he felt the glances of the other men, curious and resentful. Cathair, as he could not help but notice, watched him and Fearghal from the corner of his eye, and he was unusually hard on his designated companion.
Cathair, angry, made a daunting proposition.
At midday, the women brought food. The rain had ceased by then, and a watery sun appeared. Ardahl half hoped Liadan would come, half hoped she would not. He dreaded seeing her, for he did not know how he might hope to behave toward her, as he had before.
She did not come. He and Fearghal were served by one of the women from the chief’s household.
They sat on the wall and ate together as if they were of the same station.
“My wife is gey worried,” Fearghal said as he consumed his barley cakes. “She greatly fears my going off to fight again. Tries to tell me ’tis not my place as chief.
“I tell her it is my place as chief. That if I will no’ stand strong at the head o’ my men, I can no’ expect them to lay down their lives in my absence.”
“Aye.” Ardahl could only agree, and stole a look at the man. He still appeared weary beneath the high color earned by working hard, and blue flags flew beneath his eyes.
Ardahl experienced a flare of worry. What would happen to them if Fearghal fell?
He would have to make certain that did not happen.
Fearghal gave him a brief grin and, as if hearing his thoughts, said, “I tell her I will have the best warrior our clan can boast at my side—ye.”
With calm he did not feel, Ardahl repeated, “I am disgraced.”
“Aye, so.” Fearghal frowned.
“The druids have declared it so and put me in Conall’s place.”
Fearghal stopped eating. “I have said I do not know what happened between ye and Conall.” He fixed Ardagh with a cool eye. “Tell me again what you say occurred.”
“Conall turned on me for no reason I could tell.” Should Ardahl speak to the chief of his other suspicions, about Cathair? But he had no proof beyond Cathair’s association with a young woman. “There was a flurry and he lay dead.”
“And that is the truth?”
“That is the truth.”
Fearghal sighed.
Summoning all his strength, Ardahl said, “My chief, I do no’ see how ye can put me first among the warriors. The others will no’ stand for it.” Deliberately he added, “Cathair will not.”
“I put ye there because ye have earned the place. ’Twas ye and no’ Cathair who saved my life.”
“Even so.”
“Dornach believes in ye.”
“I am humbled by his regard. And yours.”
Fearghal smiled wryly. “Among our warriors, humble is no’ a common thing to be. Aodh, who imposed your sentence, is dead. I canna say I have the power to lift what he laid upon ye. I do not. Ye will have to stay and serve Conall’s family as sentenced.”
“As his surviving sisters’ brother.”
“Aye. But these are no’ ordinary times, and I need ye at my side. Soon—very soon—I will have to go and deal wi’ Brihan. Charge him for turning against me.”
“A dangerous mission.”
“Aye, so. And I will need ye with me, Ardahl.”
Ah, by all the gods! What would Liadan say if he went from her for such a perilous course, perchance not to return?
“My chief, my fealty is yours, as is my sword.” Conall’s sword. Liadan still had his.
“Good man. Ordinarily I would take Dornach. He does no’ want to admit it, but he is no’ fit. I will tell him he is needed here to keep a strong defense. ’Tis all too true, given what happened last time.”
Ardahl said nothing. He wondered what Fearghal could possibly say to Brihan, who had already turned his cloak and sided with Dacha. Whether Fearghal could trust the man if he got the assurances he wanted. If Brihan would speak only lies.
And what he could say to Liadan, when the time came.