After a moment’s hesitation, she hugged him back. The boy was a victim as much as her. It was his mother who deserved Ethne’s wrath.
He squeezed her tight, more tightly than normal. That gave her pause. He usually enjoyed the celebrations after hunt.
“I thought ye'd never return.” He sounded winded.
“Lampreys can be difficult to catch.”
His wide eyes and haunted expression surprised her. Could he feel guilty? When he glanced behind him, she followed his gaze toward his mother, who continued to entertain the others.
Ethne turned him about and placed a gentle hand on his head. “Do not fret, Finn.”
“But—”
A deep male voice interrupted. “And do ye still stink?”
Ethne froze, struggling to convince herself it could not be the same man. Her hearing was playing tricks on her. She glanced down at the forbidden lampreys before turning around.
The sight of the arrogant islander standing there, his huge body casting her in shadow, made her flesh crawl. Her breath quickened. She glanced at the others and realized they hadn’t noticed him singling her out, coming toward her.
When he stepped close enough to tower over her, he jutted out his chin and sniffed at her as if she were some dog who'd rolled in horse dung.
“Ye do.” His voice was low, for her ears only. “And what do ye have here?”
He dropped his hand to the lampreys, his eyes glistening with that same excitement she’d seen at the shore, and moved so close that his body rubbed against her shoulder. Her face heated at the memory of the humiliating search.
“But I am not here to find…poachers,” he said.
A black-haired man joined them, a clay whistle in his hand. He was one of the men who had remained mounted, watching as she'd been groped. He dropped the instrument into the sack at his waist. His eyes lit up with recognition, followed by the same leering grin. A squire, mayhap.
He glanced at the lampreys. “It appears ye were correct in yer suspicions.”
The two exchanged glances. The bigger man wiped the back of his bare hand across his mouth while his eyes traveled the length of her, missing nothing, and she shuddered.
She recognized another of the men sitting beside Aidan, heads close together, intent on some story. Her mind reeled, trying to make sense of why these men were here, in their cave. Serving as entertainment for her brother’s celebration? Listening to their aging chieftain’s stories? These were powerful islanders.
Ethne gritted her teeth and forced herself to look at the men. Their appearance had changed. Their wealthy attire had been replaced by well-worn tunics and trews, and the medallion and gold ring were missing as well.
“I made an impression, I see, even without all my finery.” The large man quirked a brow. He studied her, as if reading her thoughts. “Hmm, ye didna strike me as a stupid lass, but stupid ye are if ye think to expose me now.”
“Ethne!” Domelch’s voice boomed, echoing around them. She shoved her way forward, protruding belly first, sidestepping the islanders to grab at the lampreys nested in Ethne’s upturned skirt.
Ethne shrieked. The eels poured onto the ground.
“Cover yer legs. Have ye no decency?”
Finn clung to Ethne’s side, trembling, and she wrapped a protective arm about him.
Malcolm shuffled up behind the two men. His calm expression and the way he grasped the large man’s shoulder had Ethne's heart pounding against her ribs. Her brother could have no idea of the man’s power or he would not be touching him so.
“Ethne. Have ye met our travelers?”
Travelers? They were pretending to be travelers? Her heart slammed into her throat, and she couldn’t speak, barely managed to shake her head. She needed to let Aidan know of this deception.
“This is my sister,” Malcolm said. “The one I mentioned.”
The large man’s face relaxed into a smile. “Ah, Ethne.”
“That’s it.” Malcolm slapped him on the back before arching his brows at her expectantly. “This is Olaf. He is from the islands. Came here to get away from all their warmongering. A good hunter, too. Thinks he may like to join our tribe.”
