The queen’s gaze narrowed at the sight of theLochlannach, but a moment later, she seemed to dismiss her suspicions. She offered Morren a smile of welcome, but it was guarded. The queen would ask questions, Morren knew, and she didn’t know if she was prepared to answer them. She hadn’t really thought of explanations or what she would say to Trahern’s kin about why she had come.
“I’ll send servants to prepare your chamber, Trahern,” the queen offered. “Morren, you may stay with my ladies.” She let her gaze linger a moment before she inquired, “How long will you stay, Trahern?”
“Until I’ve finished what I came to do.”
The queen issued orders to a servant, and then took his arm, walking alongside him. Morren followed behind at first, but then Trahern extended his other hand. She took it, her heart warming at his effort to include her.
“Patrick is with Ewan now,” the Queen explained. “They’re working on the plans for Ewan’s ringfort. I imagine he’ll want to build a castle as grand as Laochre.” With a smile to Morren, the Queen said, “Ewan married his Norman bride only a few weeks ago. They’re planning to live a few miles inland from here.”
She brought them inside the castle, leading them up the stairs to the Hall. The interior walls were thick, perhaps the length of her arms. Morren lifted the hem of her skirts, but Trahern still didn’t let go of her hand.
“You’re in time to join us for the noon meal,” Queen Isabel offered. “Morren, if you’d like to change your gown or bathe beforehand, you are welcome.”
Morren’s smile grew strained, for although Katla had given her an extra gown, the Norsewoman was taller. The hemline needed to be adjusted, but she hadn’t had time. In the meanwhile, she had no other gown but the one she wore. It embarrassed her to think of how she must appear to the queen.
Trahern caught another servant and spoke to him beneath his breath. Morren couldn’t make out what he’d said, but the servant raced away to do his bidding.
The queen led them inside the Great Chamber, and Morren saw two men seated with their wives while several children were running around, chasing the dogs. There was an air of contentment, and the blond man scooped a toddling child out of harm’s way, just as one of the dogs skidded to a halt.
A pang caught Morren’s heart at the sight of another woman seated near the fire, nursing a newborn infant. The woman’s hair was veiled, and a dark-haired man eyed her with a protective air.
Two of the men came forward, and from their resemblance to each other, Morren guessed they were brothers. “These are my brothers Bevan,” Trahern introduced her to the dark-haired man, “and Connor.” He pointed to the blond man.
“My God, he has hair again,” Connor teased, as he pounded Trahern on the back. “As old as you’re getting, I wasn’t sure it would grow back.”
“You’re only a year younger than me,” Trahern pointed out. “And as for my hair, the nights were growing colder. It was time to grow it out again.”
But Morren wasn’t so certain that was the true reason. Her hand bumped against his and she whispered, “I like it better this way.”
Bevan gave a nod of agreement. “You’re looking more like your old self. I’m glad of it.”
Trahern’s expression grew uncomfortable, and he turned his attention back to introductions, leading Morren forward to the veiled woman who held the infant. “This is Bevan’s wife Genevieve.”
Another woman came forward to welcome her, and Trahern introduced her as Connor’s wife Aileen. “She’s the most skilled healer I’ve ever known.”
After greeting Aileen, Morren turned back to Genevieve. The woman smiled, but there was exhaustion in her features, as though she’d been up all night. “I would stand to welcome you, but I’m afraid my daughter Alanna would protest.”
“It’s all right.” Morren managed a smile, but inwardly, her thoughts went back to her own lost pregnancy. The hollow ache hadn’t faded, despite the weeks gone by. She marveled at the tiny fingers of the babe, the head so delicate, she could hold it in the palm of her hand.
Genevieve patted a seat beside her. “Come and join me, if you’d like to warm yourself by the fire.”
Morren sat with the woman, and moments later, one of the children came to inspect her. The young boy strode over with a confident air. “I’m Liam MacEgan. Who are you, and are you going to wed my uncle Trahern?”
Morren blinked at the direct question. She gave her name and said, “No, I’m not going to marry your uncle.”
“Then why are you here?” Liam planted his hands on his hips.
Beside her, Genevieve’s mouth tightened to avoid a smile. “Liam, it’s not polite to ask so many questions of someone you’ve just met. Tell her you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. But in his eyes, she saw that he wasn’t sorry at all, only curious.
Morren folded her hands in her lap, not bothering to hide her own smile. She’d always liked children, and Liam had a smile that was every bit as captivating as Trahern’s. She realized he’d been named for the eldest MacEgan brother, who had died years ago.
Abruptly, the boy reached for her hand and dropped a kiss on the back of her wrist.
“Liam,” Genevieve warned. “What did you do that for?”
“My uncle Ewan said that when you want something from a lady, you’re supposed to kiss her.”
