“Y-yer mother i-is not feeling w-well. She w-wants ye beside h-her.”
Fintan’s brows arched as if in disbelief, but he said nothing.
“Is there anything else ye need?” Astrid asked thefili.
He glanced over at Faolán, who had kept his distance, before taking her hand and moving in close. “Beware, Astrid. Remember yer father’s kind thoughts on ye. He was a wise man and knew of what he spoke.”
Astrid swallowed, withdrew her hand, and forced a smile for Faolán’s benefit. “I enjoyed our talk. I will see ye on the morrow.”
Moving away from the man without a backward glance was a hard thing to do, but she did not wish for Faolán to know of her interest in thefili. She had so many questions for Fintan. He seemed to know all the secrets of her parents’ lives, and there was so much she wanted to understand.
“A-as I-I said, ye are a-a good daughter.” Faolán walked abreast of her, but Astrid refused to turn toward him and instead picked up her pace.
“Certainly I am.” It was not as if she had a choice.
“There i-is o-one thing, I-I w-wish to w-warn ye a-abo—”
Astrid stopped dead in the doorway of the roundhouse. Her mother was flanked by Pádraig, who stood to her left, and Daimhin, who stood on her right. Beibhinn had never looked happier.
“Pádraig i-is w-with yer mother,” Faolán’s voice was very quiet.
Tight-lipped, she turned to confront him. “It would have been a kindness to give me some warning.”
“I-I-I tried.”
Her nostrils flared. “Not hard enough!”
“There ye are.” Her mother called to her. “Astrid, come! See who is here to entertain us with more stories.”
Grinding her teeth, Astrid searched her mind for a way to escape, but there was no help for it. Unless she was willing to confront the man in front of half the clan, she could not leave. And confronting him now would no doubt make some wonder why she had waited so long to speak up. Faolán’s intent expression reminded her that all eyes were on her, waiting for the good daughter to return to her mother’s side. Her shoulders rounded, Astrid struggled against a defeated sigh that threatened to escape and walked toward the head table. It felt as if she were headed to a death sentence.
Pádraig’s leering gaze made her want to scream. Daimhin’s genuine smile of encouragement, however, surprised her. Could the other woman know what inner turmoil this visit was causing her? When Astrid looked to her mother, she felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Beibhinn’s look of triumph, her nose in the air, was an arrow firing right through her heart.
While Diarmuid remained in seclusion with Aednat, all were subject to their mother’s inclinations. If Beibhinn invited Pádraig and his sister to stay, there was nothing Astrid could do about it.
Pádraig turned his attention to Beibhinn, and that was fine with Astrid.
“’Tis good to see ye,” Daimhin said to Astrid.
“Have ye only just arrived?” Astrid asked.
“I came with Pádraig. He said he wished to spend time with ye.”
Astrid could think of nothing to say in return, so she did not respond, which didn’t seem to bother Daimhin.
“My father was very pleased with the idea of ye joining with my brother.” Daimhin’s eyes roved the many people before her as she spoke. “He said it would be a wonderful match.”
Swallowing a retort, Astrid waited until Daimhin looked at her again before responding. “I am not so inclined. Mayhap there is another yer father would prefer to me?”
“Oh no!” Daimhin laughed in an awkward way, as if Astrid had mentioned something totally unheard of. “There will be no dropping the issue with him now. He is bent on havingyein our clan, and the sooner the better. And yer mother, of course.”
Well, the Meic Murchadha was about to become very disappointed. The dark-haired lass turned away again, her eyes still intent on the crowd.
“Is there someone in particular ye seek?”
“I thought I might see Marcán. Is he about?”
The memory of this woman straddling Marcán’s lap came back in full force. Now Astrid could see it was an attempt at seducing him. She’d probably whispered a promise of it in his ear. Astrid wished she’d thought to question him.
