Faolán shifted, but Astrid did not even glance his way. He had left her here to ward off this woman alone, and she would do just that.
“I am not coming, Daimhin. Ye may call it whatever ye choose, but the decision is mine.”
For a moment everything seemed to stop. Astrid could not be certain if it was shock or fear she saw in Daimhin’s face, but when she spoke, she was once again the gracious daughter of the Meic Murchadha. “I will be sure to tell him what ye said.”
Faolán opened the door for Daimhin, and she left without a backward glance. Astrid avoided eye contact with the man, even though she could feel his gaze on her. How had he known to find her here? Was he watching her?
Dropping her face into her hands, she struggled against tears. These games could not go on. Pádraig was going to act as if he had an interest in taking her to wife? His interest had been in ravaging her. Now what game was he playing at, talking to his father? She had been foolish not to see him for the brute he was.
She pushed off the bed and went to the washstand, sloshing cold water over her face. If Astrid did not stand up for herself, she could spend the rest of her life married to a lecher of the worst kind. What she had foolishly considered an option for herself was not. It was better to be alone.
Chapter 8
Astrid was not able to avoid her mother once she had returned to her regular duties. The woman was unrelenting in her praise of Pádraig, and Astrid cringed every time she spoke of him, wondering yet again if she should confess what he had tried to do. Hoping to find peace and some time to think, she retreated to their garden.
Faolán found her there. He was relentless. “H-have ye told Beibhinn about Pádraig yet?”
“I heardyehave said something to her.”
He frowned. “I-I gave no details.”
“And I told ye. Nothing happened.” Astrid usually enjoyed working in the garden, but there was no peace to be found here today, not with Faolán trailing her, insisting she talk of things she would rather forget.
“A-and I-I know ye l-lied. Someone should be told the truth, or h-he will get away with i-it a-again and again.”
Astrid snapped the peas she sorted with a vengeance. They would be a nice addition to the evening meal. “How d’ye know ’tis not the case even now?”
Damn, he had done it again, getting her to make a near confession.
She looked up at him, but his expression was unchanged.
“What I meant to say is that if Pádraig is such a vile man, surely he will be vile to someone else as well.” No, that wasn’t exactly what she had meant to say to him either. “Stop, Faolán. Do not speak to me of this again.”
“There’s been word. D-Diarmuid has located A-Aednat.”
Astrid’s joy could not be contained. “Is she unharmed?”
“I-I do not know for certain, but I-I did not hear she w-was hurt.”
“That is wonderful news.” Astrid squeezed her hands together.
Faolán was more reserved, giving her a cursory glance. “D-Diarmuid will be r-returning, A-Astrid.”
Tears flooded her throat, but she swallowed them down. “Ye need to let this go, Faolán. No good will come of it.”
“Punishment that i-is due for a w-wrong done to u-us? O-or d’ye argue ’twas not w-wrong?” His eyes narrowed as he continued to watch her. “A-am I-I m-mistaken in a-all this? Y-yer mother speaks h-highly of the man. D-did I-I-I-interrupt what ye had a-agreed to?”
Damn tears. She swatted them away, gazing anywhere but at him. People were coming out of the roundhouse now, no doubt in expectation of Diarmuid’s arrival. Some were glancing toward them with curiosity. Her shame was all encompassing. The only way to get Faolán to drop his inquiry forever would be to claim she’d sought the attentions that had been forced upon her, but she could not do it. She could not stand to see the look of disappointment in his eyes.
“Ye did not,” she said softly. “I cannot speak to my mother’s choice of whom she will praise. Suffice it to say, she is not always correct. Neither in those she condemns nor in those she praises.” Her voice trembled. “I thank ye that ye came when ye did.”
She opened her mouth, struggling for control, turning away from the crowd gathering behind her. Faolán’s eyes never wavered from her.
Shouting started behind them. “’Tis Diarmuid!”
Cheers went up. Astrid wiped at the tears.
“D’ye see his wife?” someone asked.
