They rode south, and along the way, she saw Trahern’s face tight with restrained anger. He didn’t speak to her, and outwardly, it appeared that countless plans and strategies consumed his mind.
In his expression, she saw vengeance. He believed he would find theLochlannachwho were responsible for the attack, and that she would be able to identify the guilty men.
A shiver passed over her. Although the men deserved to die after what they’d done, she’d never wanted to be an executioner. Morren slowed her pace, torn between wanting her own vengeance and wanting to forget.
Trahern drew back, turning concerned. He handed her the water bag. “You’re looking pale. Would you rather go back?”
“No. I’m fine.” It wasn’t physical weakness that bothered her; it was her own fear of what would happen when they reached the longphort.
She handed back the water and took the reins again. “It’s not far. We’ll be there in less than an hour.” Before Trahern could argue, she urged her horse into a walk, forcing him to follow. No matter what the danger was, she couldn’t leave Jilleen alone among theLochlannach.
Trahern brought his horse alongside hers, and though he didn’t protest, she caught him watching her. A few cuts marred his cheeks and scalp where he’d shaved the hair off again. With his size and fierce appearance, she had no doubt he would intimidate many of the Norsemen.
Yet she’d seen a different side to him. Last night, he’d remained outside until Vigils was finished. Gone was the hardened warrior and in his place was a man consumed by grief. A part of her had wanted to bring him peace. Without thinking, she’d touched his shoulder.
His skin had been warm, the muscles tight and knotted. He’d flinched with shock but then relaxed when he saw that it was her.
She’d almost pulled back her hand but didn’t. Instead, she’d squeezed his shoulder. It had been an impulse, born from a fleeting moment when he’d needed comfort. When she’d returned alone to her pallet, her cheeks had burned with embarrassment. Would he understand that it was friendship she’d offered and nothing more?
Bitterly, she turned her head against the wind, staring into the empty horizon. She knew full well, that she was forever damaged, a woman no man would ever want.
Her hand moved to her barren stomach, and a tendril of sorrow took root. Once, she’d dreamed of becoming a mother, of feeling soft arms wrap around her neck, a child’s cheek resting upon hers. The ache of emptiness became a physical pain within her womb. And then it rose into anger.
Those men had taken away the promise of any other children. Never before had she thought of it in that way.
Her knuckles tightened upon the reins, the unfettered rage battering against the shield of calm she’d wrapped around herself.Don’t think of it. Put it in the past, where it belongs.
But when she met Trahern’s dark gaze, she saw the reflection of herself in his eyes.
Chapter Five
Thelongphortrestedafew miles inland from Beanntraí, along the river and facing the southwest coast. Vivid blue water nestled against the shoreline, while in the distance, shadowed mountains hovered. Although the structure had been built centuries earlier, theLochlannachhad continually expanded, adding stone outbuildings to the settlement.
Trahern examined the longphort with the eyes of an invader, looking for flaws. From their elevated vantage point, he could see inside the fortress. Three circular outer walls formed multiple layers of defense, with deep gullies between each fosse. The interior longhouses were arranged in quadrants, each set of dwellings forming a square. Most rested on raised platforms to avoid flooding.
At a closer look, Trahern saw at least a dozen men stationed at all points around the outer palisade. It would not be easy to infiltrate.
But then, they wouldn’t have to. Gunnar had invited them here, presumably to join the survivors. Trahern’s suspicions sharpened. He’d promised himself that if any danger threatened Morren, he’d send her back to the abbey without hesitation.
He brought his horse alongside hers. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” Upon her face, he saw a renewed willpower. Though she still hadn’t fully recovered, Morren looked ready to do battle on behalf of her sister.
Before she could ride forward, Trahern rested his hand upon her horse. “Stay close to me; I don’t want you endangering yourself. If you see one of the raiders who attacked you, tell me. I’ll take care of him.”
He shielded her as he took the lead, riding inside. Though it was brutally cold, he was numb to the elements. Vengeance warmed his blood as he thought of the men who had murdered Ciara and violated Morren. They would answer for their crimes with their lives.
When they reached the first outer wall, armed men held their spears aloft in a silent threat. Trahern met their guarded gazes with his own. But when they spied Morren, there was hesitation in their stance.
He stopped at the first gate, knowing that word would spread of their arrival. He kept his hand firmly upon his sword, waiting quietly. The enemy guards never broke eye contact, and neither did he.
Nearly a quarter of an hour passed before he spied Gunnar striding toward them. The Norseman kept one hand upon his sword, seemingly unconcerned that he was on foot while Trahern and Morren had the advantage of being on horseback.
“I see you decided to join us,” he greeted them. With a glance at Morren, he added, “Your sister awaits you within my house.”
Morren’s mouth tightened in a line, as though she wanted to run Gunnar through with a weapon of her own. “I want to see Jilleen now.”
“Follow me,” Gunnar bade them. He gestured to two older boys, ordering them to come and take the horses.
