Kieran glanced skyward, wondering if this was meant to be part of his penance. Not a moment’s peace had he attained since leaving thecatháir. If Iseult were here, she would know what to do. He imagined she’d pull Aidan into her arms and cuddle the boy, whispering endearments as she rocked him.
Damn it all, he missed her. He sensed that Iseult would be a wonderful mother, able to meet the children’s needs without a second thought. He envisioned her tucking them into their pallets, pressing a kiss upon their foreheads. And then he’d tell her to come and kiss him goodnight.
But not on the forehead. The wicked image conjured up vivid memories of her body, of feeling her softness beneath him.
Loneliness sliced at him. She’d left him, of her own free will. She didn’t want him anymore, not unless he promised her a life together.
Didn’t she know how much he wanted that? What wouldn’t he give to wake beside her each morning, to know that she would be with him always. The emptiness in his heart was drowned out by Aidan’s shrieking.
“What does he want?” Kieran demanded.
Shannon cringed at his sharp tone, and he wished he’d held his patience a little better. But what was he supposed to do? He’d fed the child, given him a warm fire. Aidan would be with his mother, soon enough.
“He can’t sleep on the ground,” Shannon pointed out. “Make a bed for him out of your cloak and some leaves.”
It wasn’t a bad idea. He set Shannon to the task of piling up dried leaves, and he spread his cloak atop them when she’d found enough.
“Go to sleep,” he commanded the boy, lifting Aidan onto the cloak. The boy hiccupped, his shoulders shaking as he gulped for air.
Shannon laid down beside Aidan and rubbed his back. At the simple touch, the boy’s crying grew softer. “He misses our foster mother,” she said. “Maybe you could tell us a story. That’s what she used to do.”
A story. What did he know of stories? The only tales he knew involved men being slain for glory upon a battlefield. Not exactly reassuring to a child.
“I don’t know any,” he admitted.
“Yes, you do. Tell us a story about a warrior and a princess.” Shannon snuggled up beside her foster brother. “Make one up.”
“If I do, will you go to sleep?” Both heads bobbed in agreement.
Kieran wanted to groan. He wasn’t a bard. It was time for the children to sleep and that should have been good enough. He didn’t need to waste time with a useless story.
“Once, long ago, there lived a princess and a warrior. They were happy together. And that’s the end.” He leaned back against a birch tree and closed his eyes, feigning sleep.
A stunned silence met his grand tale before Shannon blurted out, “That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard.”
“You never said how long it had to be. Now both of you, go to sleep.”
A faint snort caught his attention, and he saw Aidan’s mouth smirking. The sight of the child’s smile speared his heart, for it was Iseult’s smile. So rare it was, and so precious.
Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Tomorrow they would reach Lismanagh, and he would see Iseult again. Then, he would give her what she’d been missing most of all.
But he couldn’t quell the thought that it wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter Twenty
RoryMacFerguswastheworst sort of fool. Iseult wouldn’t at all like him meddling in her business.
A wedding. After everything she’d been through, after casting Davin aside once before, she planned to marry him now? He didn’t believe a word of it.
He’d told her so, to her face, when he’d gone to Lismanagh. Iseult had put on a false smile as though she were excited about the Lughnasa festivities.
But she was lying to him. He knew it, for as her father he’d always been able to see the truth in her eyes. She didn’t love Davin Ó Falvey. Not the way she loved her woodcarver.
And where Kieran had gone, he didn’t know. What he did know was that the carver made his daughter’s face flush with love. He’d never seen her so happy before. And something had happened to drive the two of them apart. He intended to find out exactly what it was.
Today, he’d decided to track down Kieran, starting with the Murphy lands where Aidan had been fostered. It was as good a place as any.
Likely he’d come all this way for naught. He was going soft in the head, sure enough. The chances of him actually finding Kieran Ó Brannon were remote, not to mention that Iseult would be livid at his interfering.
