“Foresight?” Astrid’s shocked tone had her mother studying her. “That sounds very much like a Seer.”
Beibhinn’s mouth dropped openbefore twisting into a tight smile. “And ye know I do not abide by such things. ’Tis merely the difference between men and women.” She gazed off in the distance. “A man sees only a pretty face and a handsome figure, while a woman will see the children to come of the union. I can see the union will be a blessing for our clan.”
Astrid could not be certain to which clan her mother referred—she’d made no secret of her preference for the Meic Murchadha—but the determined set of her jaw was troublesome.
“Their clan is very different from ours,” Astrid said.
Beibhinn turned a sharp eye on her. “Of what do ye speak?”
“They are very… free with… their women. Not protective like us.”
“I do not understand.”
“The fathers of our children are always known because of the protection given us. Women.”
“What are ye saying?”
“They are not as protective of their women as our men try to be.”
“Ah, our men!” She laughed, a quiet, belittling sound. “Ye refer to Faolán?”
Astrid swallowed.
“Faolán mentioned to me that he helped ye with Pádraig.”
“He did?”
“No doubt Pádraig was exhausted from the demanding ride. I believe Faolán only wanted me to know that the man had seen ye safely to our border.”
Astrid scoffed.
“I am well pleased by that.” Beibhinn heaved a great sigh. “Ye may not be able to understand this, but I have felt very much alone since I came to this clan. With yer father gone, I wish to return to my home. It would give me great pleasure to have my daughter by my side when I did that.”
“Certainly I can understand that.” And she did. But it was not reason enough for her to marry a man who would treat her badly.
Her mother tipped her head as if she were not convinced. “No matter. I will do what I can for ye.”
“But—”
Her mother’s piercing gaze halted her words. “Ye were not going to speak ill of Pádraig, were ye? He is of great stock. Ye will have healthy babies as often as ye can stand him coming to ye.”
The heat rose in Astrid’s cheeks. Her mother had never before spoken so blatantly about the intimacy of the marriage bed. Beibhinn had borne only three children—Diarmuid, Astrid, and Fergus—which might mean her husband had not come to her often.
With that, Beibhinn went back inside.
The kind gray eyes of Astrid’s father came to her mind. She could again see her mother stepping away from his embrace, a common sight. Astrid had never shrunk away from her father. He’d always known how to make her feel special. He’d always thought she was good enough. He used to smile down at her and smooth her hair. “Ye are a sweet thing, my Astrid,” he’d say.
Astrid became overwhelmed with sadness. She needed time to think. Rounding the main house, she continued on toward the small buildings behind it. She ducked into the first one. A small room. Her refuge. She slid to the floor, tucking herself between the new barrels stacked two high, and lowered her head into her hands and sobbed.
Chapter 7
Astrid had stayed clear of her mother for the rest of the day. Thankfully the woman had found a place to rest from her excitement at the Meic Murchadha. Astrid had tried to rest, but the sounds of others nearby had invaded her refuge and constantly put her on alert.
Working on the evening meal with the other women gave Astrid a sense of purpose and calm. It made everything seem normal. No secrets to hide. No lies to keep straight. No one to take advantage of her.
She slammed the bread dough on the table again.
“Ye best hurry with that one, Astrid!”
