She looked down at his hand on the latch, pressing her lips together to stop them quivering, waiting for him to open the door. She could not look at him. Not if she was to continue her lie.
“I-I a-am here for ye. Yer b-brother is here. Marcán i-is here.”
Startled, she glanced at him. “Marcán is here?”
He swallowed. “No. I-I d-did not m-mean now. He has yet to r-return.”
Ignoring the disappointment she felt, she went inside and was met with the smell of fresh bread. “Who is making bread so early?”
Faolán smiled and led the way to the food, both of them moving as quietly as they could manage with no more talking.
She’d hoped Pádraig would leave during the time it took to prepare the repast. Instead, he was up and pacing, irritation evident in every step.
“Glad I am to have ye rejoin me.” Pádraig’s clipped tone was directed at Faolán.
He moved close to Astrid, acting as if he had that right, but Faolán pushed between them to set down the wooden platter on the bench. Aside from his willingness to come to blows over Faolán taking the only other seat—beside her—Pádraig seemed oblivious to the deferential treatment the other warrior showed her. Faolán even went so far as to fill her cup before his own and cut off some bread for her with his dagger, offering her some cheese to accompany it.
Pádraig took a deep breath, ignoring both the bread and the drink. “Astrid! I wish to speak to Diarmuid at once.”
She blanched, her mouth going dry, making it difficult to swallow the bread. “Why?”
“As we’ve discussed.” He turned wide eyes on her. “The joining of our two clans.”
Faolán turned to her as well. She swore she saw betrayal on his face, but she refused to be distracted. This needed to be stopped. She would never marry a man who would force himself on her or treat her so disrespectfully.
“I do not believe—”
“Iwill speak with Diarmuid, Astrid. I will not be set aside.”
The conviction of his words caught her unaware. He actually thought they should be married? Never!
“Pádraig, ’tis not time for visits. Return later, when she’s rested.” Faolán’s commanding tone brooked no discussion, and he stood, arms about his chest, ready to do whatever was necessary to ensure his words were followed.
Astrid lifted the cup to her mouth to hide any sign of the absolute bliss she felt at Faolán’s dismissal of the man. She lowered her gaze in case Pádraig looked to her for assistance. When she could no longer take the suspense—or the silence—she glanced at Pádraig. His eyes were narrowed, and he stared at Faolán as if considering how best to take him down. Pádraig finally clenched his jaw, dropped his arms, and nodded.
“Ye have the right of it, Faolán. I need to return to my father.” His eyes darted to her before he continued. “There are many things we need to see to, but rest assured, I will be back.”
When the man bent down to kiss her on the cheek, she gasped so hard her head jerked away. He was not deterred—he merely leaned in closer. He might as well announce her as his betrothed. She was trapped! The smug smile he offered her screamed that he’d done it intentionally. Astrid nearly stumbled in her haste to stand and move away from him.
Faolán was alongside her in a moment, ready to ward off any more demonstrations, but Pádraig had made his statement. He mounted his horse and rode off without a backward glance. Filled with a mix of relief and alarm, Astrid turned to Faolán, unsure of what to say, and found him watching her. He said nothing.
Then he picked up the heavy tray of items to be brought within and walked to the door of the roundhouse. Relief washed over her until he stopped. He paused. He was considering what to say to her. She swallowed and struggled to calm her expression, ready for him to turn toward her. When he finally did, his words shocked her.
“Y-ye need to come i-in with me so that I-I know y-ye are unmolested.”
He definitely knew!
And he didn’t understand why she was not saying anything.
Astrid wished she could scream out how thankful she was that he had come along when he had. If he hadn’t…
She couldn’t allow that thought to continue. Scanning his face, she realized he might feel hurt that she wasn’t confiding in him. They were the same age and had played together as children. Diarmuid disliked the man, but Faolán had always looked out for her. How could she confirm his suspicions? He would then have to tell Diarmuid. Such an act would require retribution against Pádraig. Against his entire clan.
Faolán was as diligent as any man in their clan. If she said nothing, there would be no recourse but also no bloodshed because of her ignorance. She would have to find another way to avoid a match with Pádraig.
“My thanks, Faolán. I am very tired.”
Astrid went within, moving toward the others who slept peacefully. Dreaming. Unbothered by guilt or shame. She doubted she would get much rest, but it didn’t matter. Now she was safely home and this entire terrible night could be put behind her.
