Morren hesitated, not knowing what to say. Excuses faltered on her tongue. No one knew what had happened to her on the night of the attack, except Jilleen. And only Trahern knew of her miscarried babe.
“She had no desire to live among the enemy,” Trahern interrupted, his tone cool.
Katla uttered a laugh. “The enemy, are we? And who provided food and shelter for the Ó Reilly’s, these four months past? Who sent men to Glen Omrigh every day, helping to clear it out for rebuilding?”
“Are we expected to believe that you’re overly generous?” Trahern asked. He didn’t bother to keep the sardonic tone from his voice.
Katla rested her palms on the table, meeting his accusatory look with her own indignant glare. “Who are you to doubt us, Irishman?”
To distract Trahern, Morren placed a goblet of mead into his hand. In the midst of the argument, Jilleen had shrunk back, leaving her own food unfinished. She stared down at the table, as though she wanted to disappear.
“I’ve no reason to trust you,” Trahern responded. “Your people killed the woman I intended to marry.”
Katla’s face turned scarlet. “You’re wrong.” She reached out and snatched his food away. “And if you won’t believe that, then you can leave.”
“Katla,” another man said softly. He came up behind her and replaced the food. “Leave him be.”
From the protective way the man rested his hands upon the woman’s shoulders, Morren suspected he was her husband. Katla didn’t apologize, however, and Trahern stood. He ignored both of them and strode out of the longhouse.
Morren cast a glance at Jilleen, who still hadn’t looked up from her food. “Wait here,” she advised her sister. “I’ll be back.”
Trahern’s restless energy, his caged anger, made him a threat to anyone who came too close. Soon enough, someone would provoke him, and she didn’t know if she could calm his temper. Perhaps it would be best if he left.
The thought was strangely disappointing. In the past few days, Trahern had taken care of her, protecting her from harm. His steady presence had silenced her fears. If he went away, she would have to face all the questions she didn’t want to answer.
Outside, the wind whipped at the thatched roofs. The night sky was dotted with stars and all around them were the mingled voices of Irish and theLochlannach.
Trahern stood with his back to her, his tall form silhouetted in the darkness. The outdoor fires cast a slight glow, barely enough to see. An invisible weight bore down on his shoulders, and like her sister, he appeared to stand apart from the others.
Morren stepped towards him, keeping her tread loud enough to be heard. There was a restlessness brewing within him, of a man who didn’t want to be here. He needed his freedom, and she had no right to ask him to remain.
“You don’t have to stay on my behalf,” Morren offered gently. “There’s nothing to keep you here.”
He turned, his massive height overshadowing her. His gray eyes locked onto hers, and the fury seemed to drift away. With each breath, he grew calmer. “That isn’t true.”
Color rose to her cheeks. Though she knew she meant nothing to him, his tone suggested otherwise. “We’ll be all right.”
“I left Ciara behind, thinking she would be safe.” He took a step forward. “I said goodbye to her, believing that the others would protect her.”
The night air prickled the back of her neck, and she took a step backwards. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. They set our homes on fire in the middle of the night. No one was expecting the attack.”
“You’re asking me to do the same thing again. To leave you and your sister behind, at the mercy of these Norsemen.”
She drew the edges of herbrattighter. His face was determined and fierce, his entire body rigid with pain. “It’s not the same. Some of my cousins and friends are here.”
“I promised your sister I wouldn’t let any harm come to you.” Trahern reached out and drew herbratover her head for warmth.
Morren wanted to step back, but she found herself unable to move. Something about his protective air held her locked in place.
“Do you want me to escort both of you to the abbey instead?” he asked.
She knew Trahern meant to bring her to safety, but she couldn’t hide among the monks forever. She had to return to her clan, for the sake of Jilleen. And that meant staying here.
“Thank you,” she told Trahern, “but no. It’s best for my sister if we remain among our people here. When the rest of the Ó Reilly’s return to Glen Omrigh, we’ll go with them.”
“I don’t like it, Morren.”
“My kinsmen trust the Dalrata people well enough, and they’ve been here for months.” Beyond that, she saw no other choice.
