Mairi’s eyes narrowed into a murderous glare. “You’re up to something. Have you learned nothing about the benefits of honesty?” She took a slow step forward, her dark woolen skirts sweeping across the snow. “Spill it, Ronan. Now.”
Lore a’mighty—he struggled for the words to convince her.He knew the woman had the gift of healing, but was she growing better at ferreting out half-truths too? He best choose his next words with care. “I worry for ye. I would never forgive myself if ye became ill.” There, that was a truth. Surely, the sharp minx couldn’t find a falsehood in that.
She didn’t respond, just glared at him with one gloved finger tapping impatiently atop her crossed arms.
“I had planned to travel alone. Ye ken that well enough.”
She nodded but still didn’t speak.
Frustration goaded him on. “I weakened against yer infernal caterwauling at the keep and yer following me. I am ashamed I allowed ye to force my hand. Ye shouldna be here. I shouldha never allowed it.” There. That was a truth too.
“So now you want to turn around and return to the keep and send the terrible threesome on ahead without us?” Mairi sniffed again.
“Aye.”
“Why didn’t you do that in the first place?”
Hell’s demons, now what should he say? He sent up a silent plea for guidance. The guidance came in the form of his mother’s whisper in his mind.
“Ye didna ken the lads’ hearts. Ye were nay certain of their capabilities until ye’d had a chance to travel with them for a bit and learn they could be trusted.”
“I couldna trust them with such an undertaking until I knew them better. I needed to see their actions with my own eyes.” And that was not a lie either. Just because their chieftain vouched for them didn’t mean a damn thing. Gray had also mentioned the men loved to dally with other men’s wives and drink until they fell into a stupor. Those traits were not the best of recommendations.
Mairi’s expression softened the barest bit.
Aye. Well done.Ronan’s spirits lifted. “So are ye willing, then?” He raised his voice. “Are ye willing to return to the keep and wait forMáthairand Graham’s arrival?”
She kicked a clump of snow with the toe of one boot. “I can’t say I wouldn’t mind heading back to a warm fire and a soft bed.”
And he wouldn’t mind sharing both of them with her. Ronan forced himself to remain focused on the task at hand. “There, then. It is more than settled. We’ll turn the wagon around and go back to the keep and the lads will go on ahead.” Ronan motioned at the wagon as the three MacKenna brothers came stomping out of the woods. “Go, lass. Hie to the wagon and get thee under the lap robe. I’ll tell the MacKennas of our decision and then we will be on our way.”
Mairi looked at the men, then looked back at Ronan.
He held his breath and begged the gods to make the woman do this one thing without arguing. She finally fisted her heavy skirts above the snow and tromped across the clearing to the wagon. He deflated with a relieved exhale and motioned the MacKenna lads over.
“Aye?” Daegan scrubbed his hands together, then blew into them.
Ronan stole one last glance back at the wagon. Good. Mairi was huddled beneath the heavy blanket waiting for his return. He turned and motioned toward the narrow path disappearing into the woods. “I am taking Mistress Mairi back to the keep where she belongs. Travel east along this road until ye descend to a glen filled with mist.” Ronan pulled free the crest clamping his heavy fur cloak to his shoulder. He held it out to Daegan, his thumb tracing across the engraved words. “Stand at the cairn at the head of the glen and speak these words:a mundo ultra.”
“A mundo ultra,”Daegan repeated. He took the pin and turned it in his hand. “What does it mean?”
“A world beyond.” Ronan tapped the front of the pin. “When ye say those words, the mist will part and lead ye to Draegonmare Keep. Rest there until the spring. Then do what ye will. All will know ye as my personal guests and will treat ye with the utmost respect. Keep the pin close. It is how they shall know I sent ye.”
“But what of yer mother?” Daegan scowled down at his chest as he fastened the pin to his shoulder. “What of yer friend? Have ye decided not to bring them back to MacKenna Keep at this time? Do they not need to be healed before the spring?”
“Dinna fash.” Ronan smiled as he glanced back toward the wagon again. “All will be healed in but a few days’ time.”
CHAPTER25
Mairi lifted her face to the cold wind and sniffed. There it was again. She scanned the wintry landscape and the strange mist blanketing the embankment leading down to the river. Latching hold of the iron railing on the side of the seat, she turned and looked behind them.
“What ails ye, lass?” Ronan held the reins loosely in one hand as the wagon rocked back and forth in the rutted path. Squinting against the chill wind, he crunched off a bite of oatcake and chewed as if eating the stale bit of sustenance was more of a chore than a pleasure.
She shook her head, deciding the cold was making her crazy. “Twice now I could’ve sworn I smelled . . .” Ronan was really going to think she’d lost it. “The air smelled like someone just struck a match and blew it out.”
“What is this match ye speak of? A flint?” He turned and eyed her, barely stealing an occasional glance at the seemingly endless stretch of frozen ground unfolding in front of the horses. The animals knew to keep to the path. The reins were unnecessary at this point in the journey.
“No.” She sniffed the air again. The elusive acrid smell was gone. “Matches are sticks of wood or paper coated with . . .” The intense interest on Ronan’s face warned her to keep her description vague. Scotland of 1253 didn’t know about matches. “I smell sulfur or . . . or brimstone. Something around here is burning, but I don’t see any sign of fire.”
