“It is new for me to be able to take ye in my arms.” A warm hand cupped her face and then he was kissing her, passionately. All too quickly he set her aside. “I must see to my men. Please? Stay here with Aednat.”
“I will.” She smiled, reassured now, able to watch him go. But he stopped at the door and turned back to her.
“Shall I speak to Diarmuid of our joining when we have seen to these bastards?”
Marcán’s expectant expression did not match his wary tone. She considered why that would be. Did he question her desire for him?
“My love, I do not wish to wait, but Diarmuid is so upset.”
Aednat’s still form was covered with the heavy red squirrel coverlet, tucked in as if to keep out any danger. So small in Diarmuid’s big bed.
“And if ye are with child?”
The thought sent a ripple of anticipation through her body.
“We would havesometime. I would prefer for our news to be an occasion for celebration.”
Marcán’s disappointment was obvious, but he nodded his consent and was gone.
The room was dark, a small fire casting long shadows along the roof and walls. She brushed a stray hair from Aednat’s face. “Ye need to recover quickly, sister.”
No response. Not even a change in her breathing. Astrid glanced to the door before speaking again. “I miss ye even now.”
Chapter 12
The days passed at a very slow pace. Astrid had taken to spending her afternoons with Aednat, who showed no signs of improvement. It was exhausting. Beibhinn had come to visit Aednat a few minutes each day, blissfully ignorant about her being a healer, and more than impressed she was the cousin to their powerfulri túath,Sean.
Thankfully, there had been little opportunity to further discuss Astrid’s encounter with Pádraig. Beibhinn assumed it had been wonderful, and Astrid did not feel inclined to argue that fact, especially since it would lead to a much more intense argument. Faolán had taken to watching her from the shadows but not approaching her. She could feel his censure. Probably because despite Marcán’s assurances they’d done nothing wrong, the lack of a betrothal seemed to indicate otherwise.
Word of the men’s return was a boon to Astrid’s dark thoughts. Dressed in a floor-length dark-blueléinewith red and green embroidery along the hem and sleeves, Astrid wanted to look her best for Marcán’s return. Surely now all would move forward as it should.
Faolán stood when she entered Diarmuid’s longhouse, but there was no smile for her.
“How is she today?” Astrid shrugged off his sober expression.
“She i-is the same.” His eyes bore into her. “A-and ye, A-Astrid? H-how are ye to-today?”
“I am relieved that the men return today. Aednat will certainly take a turn for the better now that her husband will again be by her side.”
But Aednat still had not stirred, so there would be very little in way of celebration. Astrid took Aednat’s hand, small and cold, ignoring the fact that Faolán continued to watch her.
“Ye can go now. I will remain here with her.”
He didn’t respond. Pointedly ignoring him, she held a small drinking vessel to Aednat’s lips. Pleased she was able to get some fluids into her, Astrid struggled not to give Faolán any attention.
“D-do ye know what ye w-will do now that h-he has r-returned?”
Astrid debated feigning ignorance. Mayhap even questioning him about what he thought he’d seen. But why give him the satisfaction?
“Celebrating anyone’s homecoming will have to wait until Aednat is returned to good health.”
“Y-ye believe he w-will take y-ye to w-wife?”
She wasn’t quick enough to stop the gasp from escaping or her shocked gaze from turning to him. He stood there with a dark expression, his arms about his chest.
“Y-ye are not the first,” he said. “A-and ye’ll not b-be the last.”
“How ye overstep yerself!” Astrid stood on trembling legs. “Ye know nothing!”
