“What is it?” Morren asked.
Trahern exchanged a glance with Gunnar. “Before he died, the last raider confessed who hired them to attack the Ó Reilly cashel.”
She drew back, afraid of hearing the answer. “Who?”
“It was Katla,” Gunnar interjected, his voice furious. “My brother’s wife.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Hours later, at Laochre Castle
“Wehavetogoback.” Morren paced across the chamber they shared. “I left Jilleen with Katla.” Trahern saw the anxiety on her face, the desperate worry for her sister.
“We will,” he reassured her. But not this night. The winter snow had intensified, and he was thankful that they’d made it back to his brother’s castle before the worst of the storm had struck. “As soon as the snow clears, we’ll leave.”
She stared out the window, her face visibly upset. “Do you think it’s true? Could Katla really have done such a thing?”
Trahern shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem so, but how else would the man have known her name?”
Katla had taken charge of the Ó Reilly survivors, organizing food and shelter. She’d been indignant at Trahern’s suspicions, insisting that her family was innocent. Now, he wondered if it had all been an act.
Morren went and sat down on the bed. Her shoulders were lowered, her face pensive. She let herbratfall away, and she huddled her knees to her chest. “I can’t let anything happen to Jilleen. I never should have left her.”
There was nothing he could say to alleviate her guilt. And so, he remained silent, vowing inwardly that he would make it right somehow.
It was then that his attention centered upon the thin red line marring her throat. Although the cut was light, another inch, and she would have been dead. His throat closed up at the thought. He couldn’t have endured such a thing. Not again.
He moved over to the bed and sat beside her. She looked lost, and his hand closed over hers. Lightly, he stroked her fingers. She lifted her eyes to his, and he didn’t like the fear he saw in them. “I won’t let any harm come to Jilleen. I promise you.”
She leaned against him, her arms circling around his waist. “Trahern, when you take me home—“ Her voice broke off, as though she were uncertain about finishing her question. He waited, and she took a breath. “Are you planning to leave me behind?” There was disappointment in her tone, mingled with resignation. She believed he would set her aside, ending their brief marriage.
It was what he’d intended from the beginning. Their marriage had been an arrangement, centered upon bringing the raiders to justice. And yet, the thought of leaving her behind felt wrong.
Fair strands of hair tumbled around her face, tangled from the long ride earlier. She looked like a woman who had just awakened from sleep, beautifully rumpled. It reminded him of the first few mornings following their handfasting, when he’d found himself without a coverlet. Morren had bundled herself into her own cocoon, leaving him with not a single inch of the wool covering for himself. He’d snatched the covers back, only to end up making love to her, wrapped amid the warmth.
The memory tugged at him. No, he didn’t want to leave her behind. But neither did he want to pressure her into a permanent marriage.
“What do you want?” he asked, evading the question. “Shall I go or stay?”
Her fingertips reached up to his cheek, and she rose onto her knees beside him. “Today when you were gone, I was afraid.”
She hadn’t really answered the question, and he wasn’t certain what to think of that. “I blame myself for leaving you,” he said. “I trusted my brother, thinking that—“
He stopped, suddenly realizing what he’d said. Ewan wasn’t truly his brother. Gunnar was, and he hardly knew the man. Trahern knew nothing about his blood family or their other brother Hoskuld, Katla’s husband.
An unsettled feeling pricked at him. Too many unanswered questions, there were. Too many unspoken secrets. He needed the answers, needed to learn about his lost family. And he owed the truth to his MacEgan brothers.
“Ewan is still your brother, Trahern.” Morren drew his mouth to hers, breaking off his troubled thoughts. “And I don’t blame him or Honora for what happened today. In the end, you kept me safe.” There was faith in her eyes. “I never doubted it for a moment.”
“Morren, I won’t let anyone harm you.” He caught her nape and leaned in, kissing her softly. “Not again.”
She pressed herself closer to him, as though she could fuse her skin to his. “Stay with me, Trahern. No matter what happens.” She kissed him back and wrapped her arms about his waist. In the barest whisper, she said, “I know I’m not Ciara . . . but I don’t want to end this marriage. Not yet.”
His feelings constricted, knowing the courage it had taken her to speak the words. “You’re not a replacement for Ciara. You never were.”
He brought his mouth to hers, feeling like all the right words had escaped him. Instead, he used his hands to show her how he felt. His fingers threaded through her fair hair, his thumbs caressing her temples. Like a blind man learning the planes of her face, he touched her. Instead of pulling away, she tightened her embrace.
“When I saw theLochlannachraider trying to kill you—“ He lowered his hands down to her shoulders, then her arms. ”—I couldn’t let it happen. I’m not letting you go, Morren. For as long as you’ll have me as a husband.”
