Catrin turned back to look at the table where her mother was finishing her dinner.
“Absolutely.” She looped her arm through Niamh’s.
Niamh took a moment to look at the girl beside her, deciding how best to bring Aodh into the conversation. Catrin, the younger of the queen’s daughters, was a fifteen-year-old beauty with a big smile and even bigger dreams. Niamh knew the look in the girl’s soft blue eyes. It was the same one she’d had until she realized her future had disappeared as suddenly as her monthly bleeding.
The worst part had been that when first it stopped, she’d naively believed that she carried Dallan’s child. She waited for weeks, until she realized with horror that it was quite the opposite. In that moment, all her childish dreams had died alongside the realization that she would never carry Dallan’s babe.
“I hope this isn’t too intimate of a question,” Niamh began tentatively, “but I couldn’t help but notice you and your mother seem—distanced. I know a thing or two about mothers prying into your business, and, with your sister gone, I’d be happy to talk if you need a friend.”
Catrin’s young countenance hardened. “Well, it’s all her fault, so it’s hardnotto be cross with her.”
“How do you mean?”
“He was so kind, andsohandsome. Such a skilled warrior, and a king himself, too! Then she had to go and ruin it.”
“It sounds like you knew him well.” Niamh had no idea how that might be possible, as according to Brona he appeared overnight and attacked at dawn. Aside from Cara’s capture, it had sounded as though the family hadn’t spoken with Aodh at all.
“Not as well as I’d have liked, of course. But the stories he told…” Catrin stopped abruptly, her eyes wide. “I mean, the stories others told about him. You know, it was as though I knew him myself.”
“Of course,” Niamh agreed politely. “Bards have such talent in bringing tales to life.”
“Precisely.”
It took all Niamh’s presence of mind not to let her mouth drop open at Catrin’s misspoken admission. Had Brona lied about Aodh’s arrival? Had he come here prior to the attack? What on earth was going on? Niamh decided to press Catrin, in the hopes of getting some answers once and for all.
“Catrin, how exactly did your mother ruin everything?” Niamh ventured.
Catrin stopped walking and turned to face her. “You’ll have to askherabout that,” she whispered angrily. “And you should. Someone ought to know.”
“But you can’t tell me?”
Catrin resumed their circuit of the room, her voice still low. “It’s not my secret to tell. And if she found out I had, she’d lock me away for the rest of my days.”
Niamh didn’t know if that was true or not, but she now knew one thing with absolute certainty: Brona had secrets.
And Niamh needed to uncover them.
Chapter Seventeen
Dallan had hiswork cut out for him. If Niamh insisted they had to start over, then that’s exactly what he planned to do. He charmed her once, he could certainly do it again. And, though his mind told him he still risked having his heart broken a second time, Dallan found that the more time he spent around Niamh, the less he cared about that risk. Aye, it had begun as a truce to learn why she’d left. But now he found himself thinking as much of their future together as their past.
He remembered so many things about Niamh—the scent of lavender that followed her every step, the way her hair shone like gold and felt like silk in his hands, the sound she made when he—
“Are you ready?” The lady of his daydreams interrupted.
“Always.” He winked at her playfully, rewarded by a deep, rosy blush on her cheeks.
He helped her mount her horse, letting his hands linger about her waist longer than necessary.
“I do believe you’re trying to unsettle me,” she proclaimed as they started down the path to Caiseal.
He grinned at her so that his dimples showed. “Is it working?”
“Not yet,” she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Give it time.”
Luckily for Dallan, time was something he currently possessed. Though the Fianna had made the ride from Caisealin an hour’s time to aid Thurles, Dallan had no intention of racing away his opportunity to talk with Niamh. Allowing their horses to walk at a leisurely, conversational pace, he had her all to himself until they reached Caiseal in several hours’ time. Theycouldmake the journey in a day if they went straight to the market and back.
