Conan’s belly knotted as he went over the plan in his mind again. He knew it would hurt Alannah. But, in his experience, someone always got hurt in relationships because they always ended. Brian had buried two wives and divorced a third before marrying Conan’s sister. Broccan as good as died the day he lost his family. And Conan had been betrayed by his own kin so many times he’d lost count.
Keeping his relationship with Alannah short and sweet, that was all he wanted.
He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t see a way around it. The bridge needed to burn and if she found out what they were doing, she’d do everything in her power to stop them. Though she couldn’t physically prevent it, Conan knew she was both clever and determined—a potent combination.
Conan took up his post on the western side of the bridge, enjoying the way the coming storm matched his own emotions. Ardál stood silent watch on the eastern shore. Conan couldn’t figure him out, though this particular night he appreciated the quiet companionship.
He was leaner than the rest of the men, though still built of solid muscle. There was no way he couldn’t be with all the training they did together. He was a fair swordsman, but lethal with a spear or a bow. He journeyed with them, ate with them, drank with them, but never shared any more of himself than that. Conan had always thought Cormac a quiet and contemplative sort, but his brother was nothing compared with Ardál.
Cormac commanded any room he entered, whether he spoke or not. But Ardál could make himself invisible, disappearing into shadows like a ghost.
The sound of footsteps made Conan jump. Then mutter an oath.
Walking straight for him, a fool grin on his face, was Teague.
“I heard I might find you here,” he called, walking all the way onto the bridge and leaning against the rail.
Conan didn’t haveanything to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut and pretended to keep watch. He had nothing to say to Teague at all, for that matter.
“Why are you hiding from me?” he asked, clearly unable to just leave Conan alone. “You weren’t there when they explained your plan.”
“Dallan and I were distracting Alannah and Emer.” Conan shot him a pointed look. “In case things got ugly again.”
Teague rolled his eyes. “I’m not some beast whose emotions roll by on a whim. Honestly, Conan. I hated what happened in Dyflin as much as you did.” He sounded defensive. “I told him not to do it.”
“It’s more than just that and you know it.” Kidnapping was only the last and greatest of his brother’s sins. That list was too long to bear repeating. “Time after time, you prove that you are not a man of honor.”
“I’m workingwithyou now,” Teague ground out. “After father’s actions, it was clear that Brian is the better man.”
Conan couldn’t care less. He’d given up on Teague years ago. Helping them now was too little, too late to reverse the damage he’d done.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” Teague demanded, frustration lacing his words. “Will you not at least try to fix this?”
He didn’t even turn to look at his brother. “Give me one reason why I should.”
Teague slid in front of him. “Because we’re family.”
Damn. He didn’t want to feel anything, but his resolve started crumbling at Teague’s words. Not because of his brother, though.
Because of Alannah. Because of the way she placed family before everything else, even herself. Everything she did, every single day, was for her sister. If her brothers didn’t come back by the week’s end, Conan had no doubt whatsoever that woman would tear the earth apart looking for them.
He doubted he could ever have that with Teague, but it made him wonder. What would happen if he did as Alannahsuggested? What would happen if he gave Teague another chance?
“Prove me wrong, then,” Conan challenged, smacking Teague on the back. “It’s your turn on watch.”
Then he got the hell out of there.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Are you absolutelycertain?” Alannah asked for the hundredth time.
Teague crossed his arms. “I’m starting to feel you don’twantme to stay here,” he laughed. “The accommodations are just fine. Truly.”
Alannah wanted to believe him. After seeing first-hand the splendor of the rath at Cruachan Aí she knew the ten foot roundhouse wasnotfit for royalty. Emer had happily agreed to give Teague use of their own stone cottage, his guards having to rough it in the roundhouses, but even the cottage paled in comparison with the rath. Still, she wasn’t about to harass him over her concerns.
Emer brought over his breakfast, a bowl of hot porridge with honey and baked apple.
“Thank you darling,” he cooed. He lifted his spoon but paused, his eyes pinned to the front door.
