Chapter Forty-One
“I would like a word wi’ ye.”
Brasha started when Liadan spoke in her ear, and swung around in surprise. Her eyes, a glorious gray blue, widened with surprise before narrowing in a guarded expression, and she tossed a head full of thick brown curls.
As usual, Brasha haunted the wall at the practice field in the company of her particular friends, watching the men at work. In Liadan’s opinion, the lot of them could do something far more useful, mind some of the children or help with the ongoing clearing of the settlement.
That did not matter now.
Liadan herself had stopped by the field at noontime with a bite of food for Ardahl, only to set eyes on him for a moment. To catch the reflection of his smile, if he gave her one in gratitude.
He had not been there, though—the gods alone knew where he was. Impulse took her to Brasha’s side.
“Aye, so?” Brasha said. “Ye wish to speak to me?”
“If ye can spare a moment or two.”
Thoughts moved quickly in Brasha’s eyes as she wondered what Liadan might have to say. “Aye, so,” she said again with a glance for her companions. “What is it?”
“Let us walk.”
Liadan did not want any of the other girls hearing. They squawked like birds and had even less discretion.
Brasha made a sound of protest but moved away at Liadan’s side. Liadan saw her cast a glance at Cathair, who worked at the far end of the field.
“How long ha’ ye been seeing Cathair?” Liadan asked once they were clear away. “Since before ye were with my brother?”
Brasha gave her a swift glance, hesitated but a moment before she said, “What is it to ye?”
“I loved Conall very much. I suppose I still feel protective o’ his interests. Did he know ye were no’ true to him?”
“True to him? To Conall?” Brasha said with astonishment. “Who said I ever was?”
“He thought so. He believed it. He was in love wi’ ye.”
Brasha gave Liadan a look from the corners of her catlike eyes. “Any number o’ young men are in love wi’ me.”
The flash of anger that shot up through Liadan shocked her. “Conall thought ye were his alone.”
“I never told him so.”
“Nay?”
“To be sure, no. Can I help what thoughts get in a man’s head once he lies wi’ a woman?”
That caused another sort of pang. Had Conall—sunny, even-tempered Conall—felt toward this woman what she felt for Ardahl after being with him, touching him, tasting him? Her heart convulsed in pity.
“So,” she said weightily, “ye did lie wi’ my brother. Why? Why, if ye did no’ love him?”
Another look, sharper this time. “Och, Liadan, ye cannot be such an innocent as all that. D’ye think a woman has to feel love before she lifts her skirt for a man? There are plenty o’ other reasons.”
“Like what?”
“Your brother was a nice lad. A sweet lad. And I am a generous woman.”
Was that what she called it? “He wanted to handfast wi’ ye.”
“Did he? And how d’ye know that? Did he tell ye so?”
“He did not need to. I knew my brother, the kind o’ man he was. Honorable. I could see by the way he spoke o’ ye that he had given his heart.”
Brasha snorted. “Honor! ’Tis overrated.”
“Ye might well say so, if ye have none.”
Brasha stopped walking and turned to face Liadan. “Your brother is dead and gone—killed by his closest friend. So what does it matter now, what he felt for me?” She tipped her head to one side. “It must be terrible for ye, having the very monster who killed Conall living wi’ ye, taking his place. How ever d’ye bear it?”
Liadan could not speak, her anger too bright.
Brasha shrugged and answered herself. “I suppose we bear what we must.”
“How long ha’ ye been seeing Cathair, Brasha? I want to know.”
Thoughts again moved in Brasha’s eyes like light on water. “I can see whomever I wish. Stop seeing whomever I wish and go back to him after. What did ye expect me to do once your brother died? Grieve forever? Go to my grave as an old woman alone?”
“So far as I can see, ye did no’ grieve at all.”
Brasha shrugged. “Ye must have seen me, at his grave.”
“I saw somewhat.” It might have been a braw show.
“Your brother was a sweet lad, as I say. ’Tis a pity he had to die.”
Had to die? What did she mean by that?
“Would ye ha’ married him, if he’d lived?”
An amused smile danced over Brasha’s lips. “Probably not. The ties that bind also tie a woman down, do they no’?”
And besides, then how could she have gone back to Cathair?
Liadan felt sure Brasha had used her brother. To damage Ardahl, no doubt. But how?
“I pray,” she told Brasha viciously, “your misdeeds come back upon ye and that ye pay for them.”
Carelessly, Brasha tossed her head. “Do we no’ all pay for our misdeeds, in the end?”
*
“Where were ye this day?” Liadan asked as soon as Ardahl entered the hut at nightfall. “I came to the training field at noontime hoping for—well, hoping. Ye were no’ there.”
He slid his gaze over her, head to toe, intimate as a touch. If he ever looked at her that way out in the open, they would be undone. “I met wi’ the chief and Dornach for a time. Then I was assigned to the border.”
“The border? Which one?”
“The west.”
The west. From whence trouble might well come at any time.
Ardahl set his weapons beside the door. “Where is my mam?”
“Here.” Mam stuck her head out from one of the sleeping places. “I ha’ saved your supper.”
“I will go and wash.”
Liadan followed him because she could do nothing else. She stood up against the wall of the hut with her hands tucked behind her so she could not touch. Just to be near him.
Her gaze followed his every movement as he stripped down. She had kissed him there. And there . And—
The taste of him flooded her tongue, and her heart beat so hard, it shook her whole body.
“Ye sat in wi’ the chief?” she asked, in an effort to distract herself.
“And his advisors.”
“Are ye one o’ his advisors now?”
He stopped splashing long enough to look up at her. “I am no’ certain what I am.”
“Fearghal holds ye in some esteem, despite—despite everything.”
“He is trying to decide how to handle the present situation wi’ Dacha and Brihan.”
“Aye, so. Will ye go to war?”
“’Tis possible.”
“Ardahl. How will I bear it?”
He shook his head, and his plaits—the same she had fastened that morning—beat upon his broad back like the traces on a pony.
“I spoke wi’ Brasha today.”
“Ye what?”
“I challenged her about her feelings for Conall. The woman is a—Well, I know but one word for that, and I will no’ speak it.”
Ardahl gave a harsh laugh. “I did try to warn him—Conall. He would hear none o’ it. She besotted him.”
“I believe she had a reason. That she and Cathair are indeed in it together. I just canna tell how.”
Ardahl said nothing.
“If they had some scheme to ruin ye, it must be driving them half wild to see ye so close to the chief now. D’ye think that is why Cathair told ye to watch your back?”
“I have little doubt.” He began to dry off.
Liadan stepped forward and took the cloth from him, then finished the task tenderly, running it over his bare chest and arms.
In a whisper she said, “I must be wi’ ye again. Somehow. All day long I ha’ been hard put to think o’ anything else.”
“As have I.” His hands chased hers, but only to take away the cloth. “Liadan, we cannot.”
“But—”
“We cannot.”
He spoke the words with great regret. Unmovable. Everything she desired there in the half dark.
“Best accept it, alanna ,” he whispered. “Best accept it.”