Watch your back.
He imagined he heard those words again there in the dark, and spun to find himself alone. Aye, like Cieran, he was jumpy tonight.
He stood, feet spread, and forced himself to breathe quietly and evenly the way he and Conall had practiced before a battle when waiting to begin the fight. Moments when uncertainty could lay hold of a man and ruin him, if he let it.
He tried to see ahead into the future, but it was like peering through the murk at the bottom of a tarn.
Fearghal was a good chief, a strong man in his own right. Ardahl liked him. Trusted him. Dornach quickly healed from his dire injuries and would soon be back to practice adding his strength to their number, which Ardahl found vastly reassuring. Was that what Fearghal awaited before making any plans? Or did he merely await the clan’s partial recovery from the past attacks?
On the other side of the scale from Dacha’s ill intent was Cathair’s. Bad enough to fear the blade of the enemy without that of a fellow clansman.
For Cathair was no friend.
Only one thing for certain. There would be blood. There would be blood in the end.
*
When he walkedhome through the morning light, having been relieved of his duty, he still felt uncertain. His spirits lifted when he saw Liadan waiting for him outside the door. Och, she pretended to be sweeping out the hut, but her eyeswere watchful, and when she caught sight of him, her whole demeanor changed.
His step quickened. His heart lifted. When he reached her, she ceased plying the broom and regarded him.
Och, and she should not look at him so. The whole world would see.
“All quiet?” she asked.
“Aye, for the moment. Liadan, ye should not—”
“Keep the hut clean?” Her gaze challenged him. “Here, give me your weapons and go wash. Your mam is not here at the moment.”
His pulse leaped. Might they have the gift of a short time alone? But it was daylight. Anyone might come to the door. Anyway, he’d told her they dare not be together again.
Meekly, he handed over his weapons. Went around the side of the hut.
She did not join him, and he drowned his disappointment in the cool water. When he entered the hut, still damp, she waited beside the fire and stepped past him to tie shut the door curtain.
“Liadan, we cannot—”
“Let me have this. Please, only let me have this.”
She came forward, stepping into his arms, and clutched him hard. His heartbeat accelerated alarmingly, and yet it was pure bliss. All the ache, all the longing drained from him, to be replaced by a searing physical desire.
For time unmeasured they stood so, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, arms wound around him, his arms wrapping her tight.
At last she murmured, “Each and every time ye go from me, I wonder if I will see ye again. Be wi’ ye again.”
“Aye.” He drew her still closer, wanting to feel her against him. “Life is full o’ comings and goings. We never know when.”
“Your mam will no’ be back till—”
“Liadan, we cannot.” But he wanted her. He wanted her naked here beside the fire, or anywhere else in the hut. Longed to be inside her and so end the fierce ache that plagued him.
She lifted her face and kissed him. The sweetness of it flooded his senses, eroded his caution. The taste of her filled him, both a gift and a temptation.
“I need ye inside me.”
He needed that too.
“Each time may be our last.”
