“I’m glad you came,a mhuirnín. You haven’t been yourself in a long time.”
“I know.” She forced herself to take his hand in hers. “I still miss Aidan.”
Davin smiled, but it held empty promises. It hurt so badly to think of her child lost and alone. It was hard not letting the search consume her. With each day that went by, the madness grew a little stronger. She squeezed his hand in silent apology.
“Now stop,” Davin chided, pulling his hand away. “I won’t be letting you distract me. You’re going to lose this competition,a stór.”
She hadn’t meant it in that way but shrugged. “If you want me to wed you at Bealtaine, then perhaps you should allow me to win.”
Orin laughed, pointing his finger at Davin. “She has you there, Davin.”
Kieran said nothing but reached into the bay for his net, the tendons in his arms straining. He had tied one end to the boat for leverage.
Suddenly, the wind jerked the vessel leeward, and Iseult fell back against Kieran. The muscles of his body were like stone, without a trace of softness. He steadied her, his hands cool from the seawater. When she regained her balance, he reached into the bay to retrieve the fallen net.
“I’m sorry.” She gripped the side of the boat. “I didn’t mean to make you lose your fish.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Davin interjected. He helped Iseult back to her seat. “She doesn’t like cleaning fish.”
“It was an accident,” Kieran said softly.
Iseult made no reply. His close proximity made her all too aware of him. During the past sennight, he’d begun regaining his strength, his body losing its hollow appearance. Yet never had he appeared weak. He was lean and wiry, with a touch of danger.
Davin, in contrast, was strong and dependable. Always there for her. She caught her betrothed watching her, before his gaze narrowed upon Kieran. Iseult moved back to her place beside her betrothed, to reassure him.
When the sun reached its zenith, she pulled out venison, dried apples from last season, and cheese to share. Davin teased her because she continued to fish, only stopping momentarily for a bite to eat. If there was any chance of not having to clean the fish, she’d take it.
“I arranged for the dower chest to be brought to Seamus’s hut,” Davin said to Kieran. “You may begin working on it this night if you wish. And I brought this for you.” He passed over a wooden carving. It was the likeness of the boy Kieran had carved earlier, Iseult realized. Who was it? A brother, perhaps? Or did he have a son, just as she had? Kieran accepted the carving and studied it a moment before placing it within a fold of his tunic. His face remained somber, and she wondered if the boy was still alive.
Davin passed her a flask of mead, and she took a sip before offering it to Kieran. His hand closed over hers for a fleeting moment, and she resisted the urge to pull away.
To distract herself, she baited her last hook, tossing the line over the side. Davin helped Orin draw the net back inside the boat. Thankfully, Orin had nothing but seaweed.
Her own luck wasn’t holding. Not a single fish seemed interested in her bait anymore. She glanced back at Kieran, who had cast his own line into the water. Intense concentration filled his eyes.
“Have you been fishing often?” she asked.
He nodded, still not looking at her. Clearly, he had no intention of speaking to her. Had she offended him? His rigid posture suggested that he had no desire to answer questions or reveal anything about his past. Least of all to her.
They set the boat toward Lismanagh, and the men worked to change the direction of the sails. Iseult gathered up the fish in her basket, and after counting them, it seemed she’d lost the wager. Wonderful. The last way she wanted to spend her evening was cleaning fish. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
All throughout the journey home, Kieran neither spoke nor looked at her. In the sky, clouds drifted in to obscure the sun. The temperature had shifted, and the chilled air made her reach for herbrat. She pulled the woolen wrap around her shoulders and over her hair to keep warm.
When they reached the shore, Davin lifted her from the boat, heedless of the cold sea water. His strong arms enveloped her in warmth as he waded through the waves. Orin headed back to the ringfort, while Kieran lifted the basket of fish and started to walk back alone.
Where was he going with the fish?
Davin caught her look. “Don’t worry about the wager,a stór. Kieran will take care of the fish.”
She should have been overjoyed. She should keep her mouth shut and let him handle the task. But honor pricked her conscience. She had lost. It was her responsibility to clean the fish, despicable as it was.
“Put me down, Davin,” she insisted. He obeyed, though once again his touch lingered upon her skin.
With long strides, she caught up to Kieran. He hardly spared her a glance, keeping his attention upon the basket. If he was trying to behave in a humble manner, it wasn’t working. Instead, he seemed annoyed.
“I lost the wager,” Iseult reminded him. “It is my task to clean the fish.”
Kieran shook his head. “You are his lady. I am a slave. It’s better for me to do it.”
