Chapter Thirteen
He was all she could look at, she realized in shock. Diarmid, not Sitric. When she’d felt her nerves take hold, all she had to do was look at Diarmid—to imagine touching his arm, holding his hand—and somehow everything seemed so much simpler. All her anxiety faded.
But her heart knew this was not necessarily for the better. Cara was thrilled that she had finally managed a positive interaction with Sitric. She was concerned that Diarmid already felt more familiar than anyone had in years.
Hours later, after everyone had left the hall save Sitric and his family, Cara sat in a fur-covered chair staring into the dancing hearth flames in the center of the hall, wishing she’d brought her book out with her, but not wanting to insult her companions by retrieving it. After so much noise and merriment, the silence felt deafening—so loud she could hear it as much as she’d heard laughter and discussion only a few hours earlier.
Niamh, Astrid, and Gormla sat around her, each reclining in one of the luxurious chairs. Sitric had spared no expense when furnishing his hall, and Cara could certainly get used to such comforts. His grand halls made her home in Thurles look like a hovel.
“I’m telling you,” Gormla said insistently, though Cara had missed whatever began the conversation. “Brian won’t come to Dyflin unless he’s leading an army. He’ll always summon us to him.”
Astrid rolled her vivid golden eyes, a color that Cara had never before encountered. It was as though the Ostwoman were so full of fire that even her eyes exuded a heated golden glow. “Yet another way to show us who holds the power.”
“Aye.” Gormla’s knowing smile held both patience and amusement. “But I believe it’s more than a simple display of power. I think he’s terrified to come here. It’s been held by our family for so long, it’s so entrenched in Ostman culture, that he knows it would be like coming to a different world. And you know how he feels about Ostmen.”
Niamh leaned forward, elbows on her knees as her eyes narrowed on Gormla. “What happened?” she asked. “I’ve heard the songs, I’ve heard everyone else’s stories. But, if you don’t mind sharing, I’d love to hear it from you.”
“Brian and I were too similar,” she replied. “Believe me, I’ve given that marriage more thought than it likely deserved. Our personalities were too large to fit in one fortress. And I always felt that he was uncomfortable around me, as though he never quite trusted me.”
“Oh, trust is the most important thing in a marriage,” Niamh added a little too hastily.
“Before Brian, I’d have disagreed with you,” Gormla chuckled. “I’d have said passion. Without a desire for the other, I wouldn’t have believed it could work. But now, seeing how that played out, I believe you may be right, my dear.”
“If you were too similar,” Cara ventured, wondering why on earth she felt compelled to participate in such an intimate conversation, “then would you say people who are opposite one another work best?”
Gormla sat back in her chair, her eyes staring at some spot in the rafters as she weighed her response. “In some instances, yes. In others, no. The key is balance, so the opposite qualities must blend nicely, not push the other away.”
Cara had just begun pondering whether she and Sitric were too different to ever blend into a happy marriage, when she realized with horror that Sitric hadn’t been the man in her mind when she’d asked the question.
“Well, I’d best be off to bed,” Gormla declared, rising and yawning. “It was a pleasure, ladies. I’ll see you in the morn.”
Astrid followed her mother, also yawning as they headed together to their rooms. Cara sat in silence, rationalizing her odd thought about Diarmid. It made perfect sense, really, that he would come to mind first. After sitting with him all morning, Cara felt more comfortable around him, which was what he’d intended. He was meant to help her grow accustomed to letting people in, so it was only natural that she thought of him when she thought of growing closer to someone.
And really, it had worked, hadn’t it? Because of his efforts, his patience and persistence, Cara had begun the slow process of salvaging the situation with Sitric.
Niamh stayed put, waiting until Astrid and Gormla’s doors clicked shut before scooting her chair nearer to Cara. “Sitric seems to be warming up to you,” she whispered. “Do you think working with Diarmid helped?”
Cara’s mouth fell open. Then she realized how Niamh knew. “Does everyone know?” Lord, how mortifying.
“No,” the golden-haired healer assured her. “Only the Fianna. They all knew that Diarmid stayed behind to offer you some advice on winning over Sitric. Cormac was the one who approved it, after all.”
“So I suppose they all know he’s supposed to be meeting me again tonight as well?” Cara asked, ignoring the enormous blow to her pride. Every one of her travel companions knew she was so terrible at wooing a man that she required lessons in the most basic of interactions.
“You needn’t be embarrassed,” Niamh added, her brows furrowed. “Sitric didn’t want a betrothal in the first place, to anyone. That’s what Dallan and his sister both told me. Everyone knew he’d be difficult.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” Cara folded her hands in her lap, fighting the urge to twist her fingers together. “But that’s not all of it, as I believe you know.”
Niamh rolled her lips together, leaning even closer. “It would go a long way toward securing the betrothal to be able to hold Sitric’s hand or hug him when he walks into a room—as that is just how he greets those closest to him. But don’t force yourself into situations that make you truly uncomfortable. Don’t change yourself until you lose sight of who you are.”
“Thank you,” Cara replied. That was just the trouble, though. If only someone had offered her that advice five years ago before she’d ever met Torna. Once he entered her life, he crashed through it like a storm, ravaging everything within her until he blew away entirely. By then, Cara could hardly remember who she’d been before, let alone remember how to be that person again.
When she’d sat with Diarmid, it felt as though a piece of that girl, the one she’d been before everything changed, fell back into place.