Chapter Twenty
The following afternoon Broccan came over to help her cook again. Though, admittedly, he distracted her as much as he helped.
Emer stood at the table, tearing thyme leaves off their woody stem and grinning like a fool.
Broccan’s hands slid along the sides of her body, the pressure light, a tease. He pinned her to the table, her back flat against his hard body. His lips grazed her neck, nipping at her ear until she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing.
She was about to turn around and kiss him properly when a long, low whistle sounded from the open doorway.
“We leave you alone with a beautiful woman for a fortnight and you can’t keep your paws off her,” Diarmid grinned.
Six more giants poured into the room, their expressions ranging from shock to disbelief to amusement. Alannah burst into laughter when she spotted their incriminating positioning, turning right back around and doubling over in the courtyard.
Emer stilled, uncertain how Broccan would handle their jesting. She hoped they’d mended things enough that it wouldn’t upset him, but his wounds ran deep. It would take more than one conversation to move through his grief completely.
His grip on her tightened, one arm hooking around her waist possessively. He let his chin rest on the top of her head, and she didn’t have to see his face to know he was glaring at Diarmid. “You’re interrupting.”
Something warm and soft and giddy bubbled up inside her at his response. She leaned into him, dropping the thyme and rubbing his arm.
“Broccan’s helping me cook,” she called, looking to Conan. “As you suggested.”
All eight of them—Alannah, Conan, Illadan, Cormac, Diarmid, Finn, Dallan, and Ardál—strode across the hall and crowded the kitchen tables. Emer’s heart sank when she realized her brothers weren’t with them.
“Are they dead, then?” The words were but a whisper.
Broccan pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her closer.
“We don’t know,” Conan told her. “But we found out where they were last seen.”
Emer didn’t understand. “Then why are you back here without them?”
Cormac leaned onto the table across from her. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to borrow Broccan and return your sister. Temporarily, of course.”
“They don’t want me going behind enemy lines, or some such nonsense,” Alannah grumbled.
“Deep into enemy territory,” Conan shot back in a tone that told Emer this was not the first time they’d had this discussion.
“If it’s so dangerous, then won’t you be risking yourselves as well?” Emer didn’t even try to hide the concern in her voice.
“We took an oath,” Conan replied. “We will keep it.”
Dallan tossed an easy smile at her. “I assure you, it’s hardly the most dangerous situation we’ve been in. Most of us fought the battle for Dyflin two winters ago.”
Emer spun in Broccan’s arms, looking up at him in shock. She’d known he was a warrior, and of course warriors fought battles. But until this moment it hadn’t quite struck her just how much danger he would be in.
His features softened, his hands cupping her face again, just as they had that day in the rain. “I’ll be fine.”
Emer gave him the sternest look she could muster, fighting the rising panic she felt taking hold. “You’d better be.”
Broccan had been right. She’d lost so much, so many people she cared for. As much as Emer wanted her brothers back, she didn’t think she could take losing Broccan, too.
*
They all moved to sit at the nearest trestle table. Broccan helped Emer get water for everyone before pulling her onto his lap. He wasn’t about to be any further away from her than that, especially if he was to leave soon.
“Out with it,” Broccan demanded. “She’s waited long enough.”
Emer squeezed his hand, settling against his chest.
“We found the outpost where they transferred,” Illadan explained, his voice deep and too calm.
“It was in Cairpre lands. Two months ago, they marched into Ulidia with the men for a series of skirmishes with Aodh. After that, we lost their trail. No one saw them fall, but no one could recall seeing them taken hostage either. What’s stranger still, they weren’t the only men to disappear.
Five other men cannot be accounted for, all of whom had been transferred to that unit. ”
“So they may yet live, but we can’t find them.” Emer’s crestfallen voice brought an ache to Broccan’s chest.
“Have you spoken with Teague?” he asked Illadan.
Teague, a prince of Connachta who secretly aided the Fianna and Brian, had been the one to discover that the men had been transferred in the first place.
Conan, Teague’s brother, shook his head. “We came straight here. We will find him tomorrow.”
“Our plan is to treat with Aodh about hostages.” Illadan sounded as happy to speak with Aodh as Broccan felt to leave Emer. “We leave in two days’ time. The trail is already colder than I’d like.”
“How long will you be gone?” Emer asked.
“I hope no more than ten days,” Conan replied. “Brian gave us one month to find your brothers, and that’s all we have left.”
Broccan felt her tense in his arms, so he wrapped them tighter.
“Thank you.” Emer looked to each of them men. “I know this is no easy task, and whatever you may say, it’s dangerous as well. Thank you for looking for our brothers.”
Broccan buried his face in her neck. “We’ll find them,” he vowed. He may not have had any say in taking the oath initially, but now that he did, he felt the pull deep in his bones. He would do everything in his power to bring Emer’s brothers home to her.
Emer turned and kissed his cheek, then slid off his lap. “I’ve got to finish getting dinner ready,” she told them.
Alannah shot off the bench, backing away from the table and hurrying after her sister.
Broccan stood to follow, intending to help cook the meal as he had yesterday, but Conan cleared his throat loudly. Broccan narrowed his eyes at him.
“We have some things to talk about,” Conan declared, rising from the table as well.
Cormac and Illadan followed next, the four of them walking back out into the courtyard.
Broccan did not welcome the conversation he knew waited beyond the threshold of the Hart’s Rest. But he owed them an apology as much as he had Emer, so he gave it quickly, hoping that would be the end of it. “I’m sorry for my behavior when we first arrived,” he said.
They didn’t stop in the courtyard, though. Instead, they walked across the uneven cobblestones to the right, straight into their small stone cottage. Broccan followed them inside, Cormac shutting the door behind him.
Conan spun toward him, his brow creasing. “Are you alright?”
Broccan stepped back. “What?”
“I know you keep to yourself, so I won’t pry.”
Broccan raised a brow. “Then what would you call this, exactly?”
“Friendly concern,” Conan answered without pause. “I hoped you’d warm to Emer, but I never imagined anything quite like that. I know you’ve been through a lot, and so I wanted to be certain you were alright.”
“We all did,” Cormac added. “I’ve not seen you like this since—” He stopped mid-speech.
Broccan knew why. “Since before I lost them,” Broccan finished for him. “I’m fine.”
The three men standing before him exchanged skeptical looks.
“I’m fine,” Broccan repeated. “Or, at least, better than I was.”
“Is there anything you wish to speak of?” Cormac asked. Of all the men, he was the only one Broccan had ever confided in following the incident. Of all the men, only Cormac truly knew how hard he’d fought to say those words.
After the fire, Illadan had taken one look at Broccan’s face, gotten back on his horse, and ridden until he found the man responsible and run him through. How Illadan found him, Broccan to this day didn’t know. He didn’t want to then. He didn’t need to now.
He hadn’t wanted to believe any of it. He stood in front of their stones for a full day and night, refusing to believe they were gone.
Cormac stood beside him the entire time.
He said nothing as Broccan screamed and cried, steadfast and patient as ever.
When Broccan had finally found words, Cormac was the one who heard them, who answered.
Until Emer, Broccan had never confided in anyone but Cormac.
Swallowing, Broccan shook his head. “I started leaving stones behind,” he told Cormac.
“Good,” Cormac told him. “You deserve a lighter burden.” Without warning, he pulled Broccan into a hug. “You know if it were possible I would have carried them for you.”
“I know.” Broccan released him. “You’re a good friend.” He turned, looking to the others. “You all are.”
“Alright,” Conan blurted, “I can’t take it anymore. What in the world happened? And do we get to bring Emer home with us? Because I’m concerned over what will happen to you if we don’t.”
“That’s up to her,” Broccan told him. “If her brothers return, I doubt she’s going to want to leave them so easily as that.”
“I’m prepared to add two more blooded warriors to the fortress in Cenn Cora if it means you find happiness,” Illadan said. “We could always use more men to guard it in our absence, anyway.”
“And the guesting houses?” Broccan hadn’t given the logistics thought until this moment.
He’d been so wrapped up in his own troubles that he hadn’t bothered to think on whether Emer would agree to leave with him.
“They’ve spent years building it. They’ve only just acquired Oran’s old hostelry. Their roots stretch deeply here.”
“I’ll speak with Alannah,” Conan promised. “She may have a solution we can present if Emer is hesitant to drop everything.”
Broccan nodded his thanks. “I have one other thing I’d like for you to speak with her about.”
“Of course,” Conan answered. “Anything.”
“Do you think the two of you could manage dinner tomorrow night?” Broccan wasn’t going anywhere until he gave Emer a proper farewell.
A knowing grin sprawled across Conan’s face. “I think we can manage. Maybe I’ll convince Finn to play, so that everyone is too distracted to notice the inferior service.”
Conan, Cormac, and Illadan returned to the Hart’s Rest, but Broccan headed toward Ath Luain.
He had business with the dock master.