“I know you cared for my sister,” Áron admitted. “I would have been glad to call you brother. But nothing will bring her back. Finding the men won’t change that.”
Trahern took a step closer, revealing the icy anger he’d caged. “I will find them, Áron. And they will answer for her death.”
Áron nodded but refused to make eye contact. He cast a glance toward the dwelling where the women slept. “How did you come to travel with Morren? We never knew what happened to her.”
Trahern held back, not wanting to reveal too much. “I found her and Jilleen in an abandoned hunter’s cottage in the woods. I brought them to the abbey first but then learned you had come here.”
“We searched for them but thought they were both dead.” Áron’s expression grew pained. But Trahern sensed that it was false. It didn’t seem that anyone had searched for the women. His uneasiness trebled.
“When I saw the men going after Jilleen,” Áron continued, “I feared the worst.”
“And you did nothing to help her?” His fist curled over the wooden door frame. “She’s a girl, for God’s sakes.”
“You weren’t there that night,” Áron responded, his voice growing cold. “All the homes were on fire and the fields, too. We were trying to get the children out. We weren’t prepared for the attack.” He reddened, staring off into space. “When Morren and Jilleen didn’t return over those few months, we assumed they were either dead or prisoners.”
“You left them behind. No one searched,” Trahern accused.
“I lost my sister and my parents that night,” Áron said. “I had enough of my own dead to bury.”
It didn’t assuage Trahern’s anger that the clan was so caught up in their own problems, they’d ignored two of their own kin. “What happened to Morren’s family?”
“She and her sister were already alone. Their parents died in the spring, and if they had uncles or aunts, we never met them.” Áron thought a moment and added, “There was a man who courted Morren, I think. Adham Ó Reilly was his name.”
That brought him up short. Trahern tried to remember if he’d seen Morren with anyone, but to be honest, he’d spent so little time with the rest of the Ó Reilly clan, he didn’t know.
“What happened to Adham?”
“He is still here.”
Trahern didn’t respond, but it was as though a strand of tightened steel had pulled through his stomach. Though he’d never met Adham, he had little faith in any of the Ó Reilly men. There had been no reason for the clan to abandon Morren, despite the danger.
“I’ll come with you when you leave,” Trahern said. “And I intend to take my horse back from Gunnar.”
Áron ventured a smile. “I’ll arrange it.”
The two men crossed through the longphort, but Trahern departed Áron’s company, continuing on to Katla’s dwelling, where Morren was staying. The tall woman intercepted him at the door. “You cannot come inside. Only the women may stay.”
Trahern ignored her. “Your husband is here, is he not?”
Katla planted both hands on her hips. “I trust Hoskuld with my life. I don’t, however, trust you.”
“I swore to Morren that I’d keep her and Jilleen safe,” Trahern argued. “If it bothers you to have a guard, then I’ll take them somewhere else.”
“You aren’t her family,” Katla argued. “You haven’t the right.”
“I’m the only man who’s shown any concern for them, so aye, I have the right.” He wasn’t going to let a sharp-tongued Norsewoman badger him.
“Stubborn, brute of an Irishman,” she cursed, trying to shut the door on him.
“That, and more.” He didn’t back down, but met her fierce brown eyes with his own, keeping the door open with the strength of one thigh. “No harm will come to them.”
Morren had risen to her feet, sleepy-eyed, her fair hair neatly braided. “It’s all right, Katla. He can stay.”
“And what about the others? They’ve no need to be bothered by a man such as him.”
Morren touched Katla’s shoulder. “Trahern would do nothing to hurt any of the women. But if you’d rather, I will go elsewhere to sleep.”
Something knotted up inside him at her quiet offer to stay at his side. Her trust in him was unexpected, humbling even.
