“If a man comes after you, you make sure this,” he gestured to his thigh, “comes into contact with this,” his groin, “as hard and as repeatedly as necessary to get him onto the ground. Aye?”
The women nodded.
“Then you run for help,” he continued. “The beauty of it is that you can be quite close, so if he pulls you in next to him, you can still get away.”
“Thank you,” Maeve said quietly. “What will happen to him? Will he come back?”
Diarmid crossed his arms, relaxing against the small cottage. “I don’t know for certain. It’s between Sitric and the ship’s captain. But, if it were me, he’d be ship-bound until they sail again and owe the honor price for such a crime. It’s possible he’ll be banned from sailing here again, though I confess I’m not knowledgeable enough on the laws for the matter.”
He also knew that maintaining a good relationship with the captain would be a high priority for Sitric, who was the center of all trade on the island. If it came down to it, Diarmid wagered that Sitric would pay the fine himself to preserve the trade route.
As though materializing from his very thoughts, Sitric himself approached them. “It’s all sorted,” he announced, handing Maeve a leather pouch. “Here is the payment you’re owed according to the laws. He won’t be coming back here.”
Maeve thanked him, her cheeks aflame.
Diarmid wished them well, stepping away from the cottage to join Sitric. They’d taken two steps before Maeve called out. “Wait! Please,” her voice cracked. “Please don’t leave us alone.”
Fury welled up in Diarmid at the man who’d made her so afraid. “Did you at least get a good hit on the bastard?”
Sitric’s jaw tightened. “More than one. He and I spent some quality time together learning manners while we waited for his captain.”
Good. “Do you have a father or brother who can come for the night?” Diarmid asked.
“My uncle lives just outside the embankment.”
Sitric nodded, his eyes squinting. Diarmid recognized the look—he always wore it when he planned. “Conan, you and I will go with Marga to fetch the uncle. Diarmid, you stay with these two lovely ladies until we return.”
Diarmid waited with Maeve and the other woman—whose name he learned was Sorcha—for what seemed hours, though he knew the walk was not so far as that, even across the entire town. He built the women a fire, learned how they’d come to manage an alehouse, and a good deal more by the time Sitric returned with the uncle.
When they stepped out of the cottage, everything finally sorted, pale light played at the edges of the horizon.
Diarmid’s gut wrenched. If he didn’t hurry, Cara would wake to find him gone.
After he’d bedded her.
Just like the bastard who’d broken her heart.
“I’ll meet you at the ships,” he called to Sitric, taking off at a sprint back toward his room. The air had begun to let go some of its clinging chill in the face of the rising dawn.
Racing through the wooden palisades and into the guest hall, Diarmid threw open the door to his room.
To find it empty.
Chapter Thirty-One
Two days atsea did little to calm Diarmid’s roiling nerves. Not over the coming battles, nay—over what he knew would be a terrible misunderstanding. Every small obstacle seemed only to widen the growing chasm between them. Diarmid knew that he’d need a ready apology to explain his absence in the morn when he returned from this excursion.
He rowed each day until his shoulders and back burned with the effort, his arms turning to puddles by the time he took his break. Every man on the ship save the captain spent time at an oar.
“They’re pulling ahead!” Illadan shouted above the galloping waves and cries of the gulls. “Row!”
Once the men had learned of the wager,everyonewanted in. Casting aside thoughts of Cara, Diarmid picked up the pace alongside the other rowers—their final chance to sprint into the lead.
“Row!” Illadan shouted again, standing at the bow and gesturing onward. “We’ve nearly taken them!”
Row they did. Over and over, pulling against the crush of the water, every oar manned and every man giving his all. When Illadan and the other warriors on their breaks raised a cheer and leaped from the ship, Diarmid knew they’d done it.
Both longships emptied as they rushed the settlement at Cill Cliethe. A small band of warriors were stationed there asprotection, but it had never been an attack against men. They’d not come for blood.
