“I’ll take you to him,” Rosaleen offered. “Aidan and his foster sister need someone to look after them.”
He followed her to one of the stone huts. The thatch had burned away, and they had spread a canvas covering atop one segment to provide shelter. At least ten children were inside, ranging in age from babies to those nearing adolescence. The din of noise was mostly from whining younger children who wanted food.
“Aidan,” Rosaleen called out. “Come here, sweeting. And you, Shannon. This man has come to take care of both of you.”
Both? Kieran nearly denied it, but a young girl around the age of eight came forward. The girl was thin, her brown hair in a tangled braid. She held the hand of a black-haired lad. His blue eyes were the same as his mother’s, and he could hardly be more than three years old. It was Aidan, Iseult’s son.
A hollow feeling invaded him, humbling him at the sight. Iseult should have been here to see the boy for the first time. It should beherholding out her arms, weeping with gratitude.
And then panic set in. He knew nothing about children. He’d paid no attention at all to the young ones and hadn’t the faintest idea of how to take care of them.
“Rosaleen—“ he started to say.
“I’ll find a place for the three of you to spend the night. You’ll want to talk before you take them to Aidan’s mother.” Rosaleen embraced the two children, smoothing the girl’s fair hair. “Shannon has been fostered with Aidan for the past year. I promised her I wouldn’t part her from her brother. He’s all she has left after her parents died last season.”
The elderly woman sent him a strong look that he could not deny this child his protection. He hadn’t planned on two children, but what else could he do?
“I’m a stranger to them,” he found himself saying. “Perhaps you’d want to send someone along as an escort.” But as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized the futility. The children far outnumbered the living adults. Those who remained were elderly or nursing mothers.
Rosaleen took a child in each hand. “You came to us as a stranger. And you helped us bury those who did not survive the raid. I don’t know whose prayers were responsible for bringing you here, but I’m a woman of faith. I know a good man when I see one. And I know that Aidan is a MacFergus, for his foster mother told me.” She gave a weary smile and placed Aidan’s hand in his right palm, Shannon’s in his left. “Now, I’ll get you settled for the night, and you can begin your journey on the morrow.”
Their fingers were incredibly small within his hands. Aidan’s mouth trembled with fear, and Shannon stared down at the ground.
As he followed Rosaleen, Kieran found himself voicing a prayer of his own.
Please God, don’t let them cry.
Thiscouldn’tbehappening.Not again.
Iseult’s hand moved down to her stomach. Her mind cried out with the unfairness of it all, but no longer could she deny the truth. She had not had her woman’s flow since she’d seen Kieran last.
Another child grew within her womb.
She wanted to cry out with frustration, knowing that Fate had cursed her again with a living reminder of a man’s rejection.
The last time, Murtagh had known about the child and had chosen to abandon her on their wedding day. Her family and friends had witnessed her shame, and she’d endured six more months of stares, gossip, and humiliation before she’d held Aidan in her arms.
And once she had, the sight of her son had made her forget everything else.
Would it be the same with this babe? Would a tiny fist clasp her thumb, her heart melting at the sight of the child’s solemn trust?
No. It would be worse this time, because she’d see Kieran’s face in the babe’s features. Each day she would know that he hadn’t loved her enough to take her with him. And even if she wanted to tell him about the child, how could she find him? He could be anywhere in Éireann.
Saint Bridget, what could she do? She had tried so hard to forget about him, making a new life for herself here. And just as before, she would bear a child given by a man who’d left her.
“Iseult?” Davin’s arrival interrupted her thoughts. Iseult snatched her hand away from her womb, as if he might guess. “I came to ask if you wanted to join us. Niamh, Orin, and I are going to take the boat out.” He smiled warmly. “Perhaps we’ll make another wager on who can catch the most fish.”
Without warning, she burst into tears. There was no way to hold back the sobs at the mention of fishing. That was the day she’d begun falling in love with Kieran.
Poor Davin had no idea what he’d walked into. He put an arm around her, and Iseult buried her face in his chest, needing the comfort of a friend. She wept for Kieran, for her unborn child, and most of all, for the guilt at not wanting this babe.
She didn’t know how she’d endure it again.
Davin stroked her hair, holding her close until she managed to stop her tears. Iseult raised a weary face to his, afraid of the questions he’d ask.
“I won’t make you clean the fish this time,” he said softly.
A choked laugh came from throat. “That’s not why I was weeping.” She took a breath, wiping away her tears. “Go on without me. I don’t really feel like fishing.”
