A blush warmed her cheeks, but she nodded. “And you.”
“In a few days more, we’ll return to Gall Tír,” he said. “After Samhain and the king’s return.”
A cold chill spiraled through her. Though she understood that she had to go, to face her attackers, another part of her wanted to hide from it.
“You won’t be alone,” he assured her. “The king and our men will be there. I’ll guard you myself.”
She knew it, but it didn’t diminish her consternation. Nor the fear that, once she faced the men, she would retreat back inside herself again.
TrahernhardlysawMorrenthe rest of the following day. After King Patrick returned with their youngest brother Ewan, all of them gathered to discuss the raiders.
“They were mercenaries,” Trahern told them. “Hired by someone to kill as many of the Ó Reilly’s as possible.”
“But even if you do find the mercenaries among the Hardrata tribe, can it be proven?” Patrick asked. “It’s your word against theirs.”
“We have multiple witnesses who can identify them. And surely they would have been gone from Gall Tír at the time of the attack.”
“Where does Morren fit into this?” the king asked suddenly. Trahern saw the knowing look in Patrick’s eyes. There was more to the question than simple curiosity.
He could try to hide the truth from them, but they knew him too well. If they believed she was simply the victim of losing her home or kin, they might not understand his deep need for justice.
He wanted those men dead. And they’d never understand why, unless they knew the real reason.
“She is one of the witnesses,” he answered. His voice hardened, and his knuckles clenched. “She can identify the men better than any of the others. Every single one.” He stood from the table and regarded each of his brothers. “They hurt her.”
He said nothing about the violation she’d endured; he didn’t have to. He saw the way their faces tightened in understanding.
“If any man laid a hand upon Genevieve, I’d flay the skin from his bones,” Bevan admitted.
“Then you know why I want them punished.” He sat down once more, waiting for Patrick to give his opinion. But the king seemed to be weighing his own thoughts, listening to all that was said.
“How should we approach the chief?” Trahern asked. “Much as I’d like to simply go in and kill the bastards, I’d rather not cause a war between our tribe and theirs.”
Patrick sat back and seemed to consider the matter. “The Ó Reilly men have just cause for their accusations. They can bring the matter before the brehons and ask for compensation if the men are found guilty. As for Morren—“ He stopped and studied Trahern for a moment. “She may also seek justice. There is no need for your involvement.”
“She’s under my protection. I won’t let her go alone.” Trahern didn’t say anything more, for he couldn’t name the feelings he had for Morren. It went deeper than he’d realized. He wanted vengeance for her sake, so she could go on with her life. “I’ve promised her that the MacEgan men will offer their support.”
Patrick’s expression tightened. “You can make no such promise, Trahern. If it were Genevieve, Isabel, or any of the other wives, I would not question it. But Morren is not one of us. I’ll not risk our men or the peace of our tribe for a stranger.”
“She’s not a stranger.” He sent a blistering look toward his older brother, unable to believe Patrick would step back and withhold his support.
“She’s not your wife, either.” The king’s words cut down his argument, making it clear that Patrick would not support any venture that would endanger the tribe.
It was as if his brother had knocked the wind from his lungs, for he’d never anticipated this. MacEgan brothers stood together, always.
“And if she were?” he asked softly.
“Then we would treat her as we would any of our own women. We would defend her.”
So be it. With the decision made, Trahern rose to his feet. “Prepare your men. For I intend to wed her during Samhain. After that, we’ll confront theLochlannach.”
He knew he should feel betrayed by Patrick, angry at being pressured into this arrangement. But . . . he didn’t. It was as if Ciara’s hold had relaxed upon him. He suspected his betrothed would have understood the need.
But now, he had to convince Morren of the necessity. And he hadn’t the faintest idea how.
“Didheagree?”Isabeldemanded of Patrick, later that morning. “Will he marry her?”
Her husband led her up the winding spiral stairs to their bedchamber. “You’re an interfering woman, Isabel MacEgan.”
