Lachlann prayed those would be the only plans settled on this night.
Chapter 4
Knee-deep in the cold brook, Ethne forced herself to be still as the silver fish weaved about her ankles. The young child on the bank beside her squeezed his mouth shut even as he hunkered down, struggling to contain his excitement. It wasn’t that her nephew had never seen her catch fish before, because he had. No, this was at the prospect of her using her bare hands to do so.
Ethne caught sight of her reflection peering back at her from the smooth surface of the water. Her long dark hair plastered to both sides of her face from her many unsuccessful attempts, her mouth tightened into a determined line, and her eyes narrowed in concentration. And why wouldn’t she look so obstinate? Finn had laughed—laughed!— uncontrollably, even rolling on the ground, when she told him of how she had learned to catch fish. Her own childhood had been spent farther inland among the deep, lush forests where many creatures Finn had never seen lived.
Here, along the north shore of Scotia,there were no trees. The relentless wind had stripped the land clear except for the tall grasses that easily shifted along with the currents. The only creatures that could survive here were of a much tougher bend to withstand the harsh elements. And, certainly, they could never be caught with bare hands.
“Finn!” The sound of the angry voice startled them both, and Ethne jumped enough that the fish she'd been waiting so patiently for was gone in the flash of its silver back. “Finn!”
Her stomach clenched at the tone of Finn’s mother shifting higher and louder as she searched for him.
“Ye'd best get to her.” Ethne's pronouncement was not entirely necessary since the boy was moving in that direction even now. She trudged along the banks as quickly as she could, barely noticing the dark mire splattering her shortléineonce she had cleared the muddy strand, where she ran in earnest to catch up with the lad.
The scene she came upon made her breath catch. Finn was crying, his mother's arms clasping him to her bosom where she kneeled beside him. The woman seldom ever touched the boy. His own small arm was wrapped around the huge swell of his little brother or sister. Domelch glared at her, and the fury in those dark green eyes slowed Ethne in her steps.
“Ethne! What have ye done to scare the boy?”
Thoughts whirled in her head as Ethne tried to pinpoint when the boy had shown any fear, but before she could respond, the woman raised her hand up to stop her. “Bother me not with yer excuses. We know well how ye lie!”
Ethne's body went rigid, but she kept an even tone despite her outrage. “I never lie.”
In three steps, the irate woman was in her face. The slap was hard, stinging Ethne's cheek. “Ye will not speak back to me.”
Ethne tasted blood flooding her mouth. The cut in her cheek from yesterday's slap had reopened. She turned dry eyes on her sister-in-law with her lips tightly closed. This was Domelch’s latest tactic meant to belittle her, but Ethne refused to cower.
Domelch's nostrils flared with indignation. When she raised a hand a second time, Ethne easily caught the wrist mid swing. This infuriated her sister-in-law even more.
“How. Dare. Ye. Touch. Me.” Domelch squeezed out the words from her clenched jaw, the bulge of her unborn child heaving between them in her upset.
Ethne’s cheek throbbed. She released the wrist, her own hands falling to her sides.
“Yer brother will hear of this.”
There would be hell to pay for Ethne’s single act of defiance, and though her brother would listen to her explain, he would allow Domelch to deal with her as her sister-in-law saw fit. Ethne dropped her head so the woman would not see her intense anger. Anger that squeezed her throat tight, nearly cutting off her breath. There was no help for it. Or for her. She had been at Domelch's mercy since the day her brother had married the awful woman.
“I beg yer forgiveness, m'lady.” Bile flooded her mouth, the result of the tart taste of her own blood or having to use such a respectful title for such a vile creature, she couldn’t be certain which. She prayed Domelch would not take some offense at her tone, or the tilt of her head, or the rigidity of her stance, or a million other things the woman took pleasure objecting to.
“She looks scared, Mama.” Finn tried to mimic his mother’s stance, but his glaring scowl looked more humorous than mean.
Domelch’s disdainful snort sharpened Ethne's hearing to what might happen next. She dare not even breathe. Not if she had any hope of avoiding further damage to her person.
“So, tell me why ye’ve dragged my son so far upstream?”
It hadn't been far at all. Ethne glanced at the boy, who just a few minutes earlier had been all but dancing in glee at the adventure. “I’d hoped to show—”
“She was showing me what she could do, Mama.”
“Showing off again, Ethne?” Domelch’s contemptuous tone matched her expression. That was one of Domelch’s favorite insults.
“She made me stay quiet,” Finn said, his small forehead furrowed like his mother’s. “And still.”
“She ordered ye not to speak?”
Ethne had told him that so that he wouldn’t scare away the fish.
Finn was kind, loving even, but never when he was with his mother. Even now his mother's look of pride and the way the woman held him against her side when she refused to even kiss him goodnight was no doubt causing all kinds of confusing feelings for the boy.
