“It’s where I’ll be building our new home.” He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “What do you think?”
Her throat tightened, for he’d guessed what she wanted most. A place of their own. A place where she could begin her life over again and forget the mistakes she’d made in the past. Her fingers clenched in her skirts. “It’s wonderful, Davin.”
“I won’t be able to start it until we’ve built up our defenses against the Norsemen. But after they’re gone . . . His voice trailed off, and he turned to kiss her.
Iseult tried to pour herself into his embrace, wanting to prove to herself that she could feel the same passion for Davin. From the way he pulled her tightly against him, she knew she’d kindled his desire.
And still she felt nothing.
“Lie with me, Iseult,” he whispered fiercely. “I want you.”
Her face revealed the misery she felt. When he saw it, his visage tensed. “I don’t know what Murtagh did to you, but by God, if he ever crosses my borders, I’ll murder him where he stands.”
She said nothing, fighting back tears. It was easier to pretend that Murtagh had harmed her than to admit that the failing lay with her. She had surrendered her body, but Murtagh hadn’t wanted her as a wife. Not even after he knew about their unborn child.
Davin pulled her into his arms again, pressing a kiss against her hair. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait for you.” He looked into her eyes. “But I’ll never force you. You know that I love you,a chroí. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”
Iseult nodded, her throat closing up with unshed tears.He isn’t the same man as Murtagh, her mind urged.He would never humiliate you.She had to believe that.
He took her hand, and they walked through the center of the ringfort toward the opposite side. Iseult paused in front of the hostages, asking, “What will happen to them?”
“When the ransom arrives, I’ll release them.” Davin shrugged, as though he hadn’t given it much thought.
One of the men was watching her, and Iseult shivered. His fierce gaze studied hers with interest. Something about these men did not bode well.
“There was no need for prisoners,” she told him. “Not from a simple raid.”
“There’s no real harm done. The Sullivans steal sheep from us all the time. We’re just taking them back.”
“Men aren’t sheep.” She couldn’t help but think of Kieran. He’d been a prisoner, just like these hostages. It didn’t feel right, though she knew the men would not be treated as slaves.
“Perhaps they’ll think twice before they attack us again.” Davin walked onward, not sparing the men another glance.
Iseult took no comfort from his words. With a final glance back at the hostages, the man who’d been staring at her gave a malicious smile. At his taunting expression, she moved closer to Davin. Her instincts warned her that this man was far more dangerous than they suspected.
Kieranspentthenextfew weeks isolated in the hut. He immersed himself with carving, barely stopping to eat or drink. The evocative images seemed to flow from his hands, and he struggled to finish the design upon the chest. His tools were barely sharp enough to penetrate the seasoned wood. Normally he worked the oak while it was still green and soft, adding butter or animal fats to keep it from cracking afterward. But this wood challenged him, for it had been worked over the course of several years.
He’d wanted to carve an image of the Virgin Mary into the chest, holding a child. And yet each stroke of the blade was a trial of strength and control.
He planned to give the Madonna Iseult’s face. Sacrilege, perhaps. But he could easily envision her holding a babe in her arms, smiling down in wonder at her son.
Every day, he was conscious of her. Though he hadn’t spoken to her, he couldn’t stop himself from catching glimpses. Now that the weather had turned warmer, he sometimes brought the heavy chest outside, using the natural sunlight as he worked beneath a triangular thatched shelter.
The right panel of the chest had already split down the center and would need to be replaced. If he could cut a fresh piece of oak and create a simple joint, he could fix the broken piece. Although he’d found a small underground storage chamber where Seamus kept the dry timber, none of the pieces were suitable, nor the right size. The supply of walnut was very low, as well as the yew. And the oak was gone.
He needed to find an oak tree in the forest and cut a plank to fit the chest. Until he’d found it, he could do nothing further. Setting his tools aside, he covered the chest with a leather cloth and moved it back inside the hut.
On the opposite side of the ringfort, he spotted Davin talking to a group of men. He knew they were preparing to approach the western coastline and discern what the Norse Vikings wanted. If he didn’t speak to Davin now about gaining the wood, his chance would be gone.
He stood on the edge, visible to Davin but not interrupting the conversation. Though the men saw him, they ignored his presence. Kieran kept his breathing even, though with each minute longer his frustration grew. He wasn’t accustomed to waiting on others for the things he needed.
Damn it all. He’d not wait any longer. Instead, he strode back to his hut, picking up a small axe he’d sharpened the other day. When he reached the gates of the ringfort, he glared at guards.
“Where do you think you’re going, slave?” one of the men demanded.
“I’m gathering more wood to repair the chest Davin ordered. And since you haven’t any trees growing here, I’ll have to go into the forest, won’t I?”
“Not without Davin’s permission. We can’t have you trying to escape.”
