"Dinnae be upset. Ye'll see her again," Darren told him. "Maybe it'll take some time, but ye will."
"I might not," Cailean said sadly. "I'll never see me mammy or daddy or me brothers or sisters again. Maybe Morag will be the same way. It seems tae me that everyone leaves eventually."
Darren frowned. "I'll never see me mammy again either. Da said it's because we couldnae keep her safe. Our home as well. I wasnae supposed tae hear him, but I did."
"How are we supposed tae keep people safe, then?" Cailean asked.
Darren shrugged. "I dinnae ken. But maybe ye and I can stick together? And then we'll do anythin' we can tae keep everyone safe so naebody has tae leave us ever again."
Cailean started awake, feeling a stinging in his eyes. He wasn't sure what time it was, but his body was heavy, and he could tell it was still the middle of the night. Darren slept heavily in the other bed, and the sound of his breathing was enough to bring Cailean back to the present.
He still remembered that promise he'd made to Darren to keep everyone safe. He knew it was a childish promise, but his heart still held it close. They'd lost men and women over the years, and he knew they'd lose more, but he was determined not to allow it unless it was necessary.
And so this girl, Mary. If she wanted training, he'd give it. He'd exhaust her until she gave up and let them find her somewhere else to go. Then there would be no fear of having to protect her.
7
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Maeve lay awake before the sun rose, staring at the ceiling above her. Two other women slept in the hut alongside her, though she hadn't yet had a chance to get to know them. She'd been so tired after the dramatic events of accepting her into the camp that she'd fallen asleep immediately upon being shown to her bed.
She thought of the man with whom she had… not exactlyargued,but certainly made a strong point. Cailean, Senan had called him. He had been an exceedingly intriguing man, with gray eyes that shone with a wisdom beyond his years and light blond hair that reminded her of sand at the seashore. He was tall, muscled, and imposing, but much of the last didn't come from his admittedly intimidating physical form. His whole demeanor marked him as someone who was not to be messed with, someone who encapsulated the wild spirit of the Highlands in his every breath. The intense way he had studied her while they talked told her that it would be dangerous to relax around him if she wanted to keep her secrets.
Maeve had spent all her life around powerful men, or so they claimed to be, but she'd never met someone with a presence like Cailean's. His voice was commanding without being controlling, his looks striking without being overly pretty — handsome, yes, but not at all vain. The calmness in his voice had been enigmatic; even when he had gotten mad at the young man who had made the rude comment, he had kept a gravitas to his voice that she had never really experienced before.
But despite all this, she had won, and she was proud of it. She didn't need this powerful, strange, handsome man to like her, only to train her, and she'd gotten him to agree to do that. She already hurt all over from the travel and her training with Senan, and part of her longed for a rest, but despite all of that she was eager to get started. She'd take every tool in her arsenal, every weapon available to her, if it meant that she'd never have to be weak again.
When the first rays of sunlight shone through the windows, another of the women in the hut stretched and yawned and then sat up. She had honey-blonde hair and a freckled face, and even in the dim light, it was clear that she was smiling when she turned her attention and noticed that Maeve was also awake.
"Good mornin' tae ye," the woman said, not troubling herself to keep her voice down for the still-sleeping third person in the room. "That was quite the entrance ye made yesterday."
Maeve managed to prevent a blush, but only just. "Well, I made me point, I think," she said with a wry chuckle. She glanced over at the other girl. "Should we leave and let her sleep?"
"Not a chance. Patty, get yerself out of bed," the blonde woman demanded, chucking her pillow over to the snoozing woman. Patty grunted and rolled over, but otherwise showed no sign of awaking. Unperturbed, the blonde woman turned back to Maeve and said, "It's Mary, aye?"
"That's what they call me," Maeve replied, hoping that the little bit of sadness that accompanied the necessary lie did not sneak into her voice.
"A pleasure. And I'm Ferda. Ye met me cousin yesterday, briefly."
Maeve felt her heart speed up as the gray-eyed man filled her thoughts again. "Cailean, ye mean?"
Ferda laughed. "Och, nae. His friend, the one who smacked that wee daftie Dirk — who's also me cousin, by the way. His name is Darren." She gave Maeve a knowing look. "But Cailean made quite the impression on ye, I suppose?"
Maeve shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage. "I got me point across regardless."
The other woman, Patty, sat up at those words and said, "Ye sure did. It was a nice wee show for all of us. Are ye really here tae be a warrior?"
"I am," Maeve said, instantly feeling defensive. "Is there an issue with that?"
Ferda and Patty both laughed, though not unkindly at all. Ferda said, "Ye'll nae find a lassie who thinks she can be told who she's supposed tae be in this camp. We all came here tae be free in one way or another. I'm a scout, and I get tae freely travel the land in a way I never expected that I ever would."
"And I'm a healer," Patty replied. She had wrinkles on the edges of her eyes and some gray in her hair, though she was still quite young-looking. Maeve guessed she might be in her early forties. "It's perhaps a bit more traditionally feminine, one might say, but me parents and me late husband would expire if they kent what I was doin'. I was supposed tae get married and have bairns, nae spend me time on an occupation."
For the first time, Maeve noticed the soft Irish lilt that was mixed in with Patty's Scottish brogue. The girl had a faraway, bittersweet expression on her face, but when she noticed that Maeve was watching, Patty turned her frown into a true smile once more.
"Me parents are in Ireland," she explained in answer to Maeve's unasked question. "I was born and raised here, but me mother was from Cork. She and me father fled twenty years ago when our king was deposed, but I stayed here tae do what I could for me country."
"And yer husband?" Maeve asked, her fascination outweighing her natural urge to not be nosy. "I'm sorry, ye said he died…"
