Chapter Twenty-Two
Conan’s hackles fell the moment the man mentioned his discharge.
He turned toward Alannah, unsurprised to find her lips parted and her eyes full of hope.
Nodding at the man, he took a seat to let Alannah get the visitor settled.
The man’s story felt true enough, but he wasn’t about to leave her alone in a room with a grizzled warrior in the middle of the night, sword or not.
“We have a room for you,” she assured him.
He waved a tired hand. “I’ll stay in one of the cubicles here. I just need a good night’s sleep and then I’m heading home.”
“That’ll only be a penny.” Alannah stepped toward him. “My brothers are supposed to be among the men coming home. I don’t suppose you know Ossian or Osgar?”
The man thought a long moment, squinting and cocking his head. “I can’t say I recall the names,” he said at last. “But it was a large unit. It’s possible I simply never met them.”
Alannah nodded, moving to show the man which cubicle was his and to get his payment. The hope was gone from her face, her shoulders sagging like a deflated waterskin.
Conan hoped they came home. It killed him that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to make sure they did, but he would help her question every returning soldier if needs be. Even if her brothers never came, they’d find out why. With every fiber of his being, he prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
Sounds of conversation interrupted his thoughts. He recognized Emer’s voice quickly, her bright, dulcet tone now familiar. He sprang to action when he placed her companion’s deep voice.
“I’m going to turn in the for the night.” He pulled Alannah into a quick embrace, leaving her with a disappointingly chaste goodnight kiss and hurrying through the back door. When he reached the little stone cottage, unsettling silence greeted him.
Finn and Dallan sat, reclining on two of the pallets. Ardál stood staring out the narrow window.
Illadan laid in wait by the door and skewered him with a hazel glare. “We have a very serious problem.”
“It’s not like I invited him here,” Conan shot back. His arms tensed, the muscles squeezing as though he held his sword. “No one saw me when I followed her.”
Illadan ignored him, pacing toward the back of the cottage.
“Not only is he already committed to helping our hostesses protect the bridge,” he grumbled, “which means that if we did enlist his help, his quick turnabout on the matter would be suspicious, but he also has the potential to destroy both our secrecy and the mission itself.”
“I think we need to tell him,” Dallan declared from his pallet. He sat with his legs tented, his arms resting atop his knees.
Conan shook his head. “And give him fuel against us to use with Cahill?”
“He’s working with us now,” Dallan added, as though that made a bit of difference to Conan.
“It makes more sense for him to be in on the plan,” Finn agreed. “That way if Cahill suspects anything, Teague can more effectively cover our tracks. And we can enlist his help in keeping our identities hidden from the women.”
“And if he simply outs us and tells Cahill everything that’s happened?” Conan pressed.
“Either he will or he won’t,” Ardál added unhelpfully.
Conan leveled him a look. He hardly ever spoke, and that was what he chose to add to the debate?
Ardál returned the look, unflinching. “Either he will prove the validity of his oath to Brian or he will out himself as untrustworthy. It’s as good a time as any to discover where his loyalty truly lies.”
That was a fair point, Conan admitted grudgingly.
Sooner or later, Teague would be tested with sensitive information.
He supposed discovering his brother’s intentions sooner would be better than later.
He still didn’t trust the bastard, though, and he wasn’t entirely certain one secret kept would be enough to earn it.
“It appears I’m outnumbered,” Conan grumbled.
“He’ll be less likely to betray us if we tell him,” Dallan said.
They all stared at him skeptically. They might have agreed it was a worthwhile risk, but that didn’t make any sense.
“How do you figure that?” Finn asked.
“If we don’t tell him what we’re up to and Cahill becomes suspect, it would be easy for Teague to tell him we were here and implicate us without us even knowing it. If we specifically give him the directive to cover it up, he’ll feel the pressure from us knowing whether he did or didn’t do it.”
Illadan’s eyes narrowed, wandering off in thought. “If we ask for his help, he’ll no longer have the excuse of ignorance. I agree.”
Knowing when he’d lost a battle, Conan sighed. “Fine. We tell him. How?”
Somehow it irked him even more that they would be telling Teague—a man he wouldn’t trust with his lunch, let alone his life—while they worked even harder to keep it from Alannah and Emer.
The women were far more trustworthy, and even if they learned the men’s true identities, it didn’t necessarily connect them with the bridge.
“We need to get him alone,” Dallan replied, looking directly at Conan. “What if I distract Emer and you Alannah?”
Conan swallowed hard against the rancid guilt rising from his churning gut. He didn’t like this plan at all. “What if we tell the women as well?”
Silence took up residence once more, all eyes flying to him.
Illadan brought the first challenge. “You must be joking.”
“I trust them more than I do my brother,” Conan continued.
“It’s too risky.” Ardál finally stepped away from his window. “Even if we only reveal our identities, your woman is actively searching for those responsible for the attack. It’s only a matter of time before she puts it together.”
He wasn’t wrong, of course. Alannah was as clever as a fox and as driven as a hound on the hunt. “She’s hardly my woman,” was all Conan could think to argue.
“You’re the only one of us who’s bedded her,” Dallan grinned. “She’s more yours than ours.”
Conan shook his head. Though something in his chest swelled at the idea, Alannah didn’t belong to anyone, and he had a feeling she’d take exception to that choice of words. She may not belong to him, but he began to wonder if perhaps he belonged to her.
“Ardál, find out where Teague is staying. Tomorrow morning, Conan and Dallan will get the women out of the way and we will bring him in on the mission,” Illadan ordered.
Ardál left without another word, stepping back inside the cottage almost as soon as he’d left it.
Illadan frowned at him, opening his mouth to ask the same question that hovered in Conan’s mind.
“I found him,” Ardál announced, pitching his voice low, quiet. He pointed straight at the front door toward the east, where Alannah and Emer’s quarters lay across the cobblestone courtyard. “He’s staying in that cottage.”