Yelling could be heard outside, and crowds ran past the open door toward the hostages. Her sense of dread only increased. Merewyn took her hand and smiled at her, a reassuring smile. “I am certain he would have shared that with ye if it were so.”
Nodding, Astrid tried to smile back, but feared it came out as more of a grimace. What she really wanted to do was to stay inside. She preferred to hide from whatever catastrophe was unfolding and definitely did not wish to witness whatever was causing the commotion with the hostages.
“I believe it was Gréagóir who was guarding them.” Merewyn said, as if reading her troubled thoughts. “He is a good man.”
Merewyn settled on the bench, urging Astrid to sit beside her, but she sensed the other woman’s tension. The roundhouse was empty now except for the two of them. In the silence, the shouting got louder. Astrid found herself straining to hear. Had that been Marcán’s voice? She turned to her slave. Suddenly it seemed worse not to know what was happening.
Astrid stood. “I must see what is amiss.”
Merewyn stood, her smile tight. “The winds of change.”
Astrid glanced around to be sure her mother wasn’t nearby. Merewyn might be trying to lighten Astrid’s fear, but like as not, Beibhinn would take Merewyn’s words as a premonition.
Hesitating but a moment, Astrid asked, “Are the winds changing for me?”
“I was speaking of myself.” Merewyn’s smile quickly dropped into a very somber expression. She lowered her voice. “But yer fear of yer mother is wise indeed. She cares not howyefeel about anyone. Not even Marcán.”
The piercing green eyes sent a ripple of fear over Astrid’s skin like the warm breeze just before a summer storm. “I do not understand.”
“She will stop at nothing to get what she wants, even if it destroys the man ye love.”
Diarmuid’s angry voice carried to them. “Ye are headstrong.”
Was he speaking to Aednat? As one, she and Merewyn ran toward the crowds gathered out back, behind the roundhouse. They worked their way to the front, Astrid leading the way. There was a dead man on the ground, Marcán’s sword in his back, which made her gasp, but the sight of her handsome love made all else around her fade away.
The fear and trepidation that had been steadily working their way up her spine left her, and in their wake she felt a heady sense of relief. The raw need to touch him, to know for certain he was unharmed, caused an ache of longing deep in the recesses of her heart. His anger was undeniable, but it didn’t frighten her. Instead, she longed to go to him. Were they betrothed, it would be an acceptable gesture, even expected at times of upheaval, as this gave all the signs of being.
Astrid turned her attention to the scene before her, trying to make sense of the chaos. People yelling. Diarmuid standing beside Aednat, his expression fierce. She appeared quite pale. Thomasina was with them, as well as Sean and Marcán. Astrid gave up the struggle and turned her eyes back to Marcán. So distressed. He didn’t see her, too intent on whatever was happening.
“She lies!” Merewyn called out, startling Astrid. When the lass’s green eyes turned toward her in a silent question, Astrid had no idea what she was asking but saw her desperation. That was something Astrid understood quite well and she nodded her consent. The girl moved toward Sean, but it was Marcán who again caught Astrid’s eye.
From the crowd, she heard murmurings about the hostages’ attempted escape. Had Marcán been attacked then? Astrid shifted her gaze back to Marcán, who seemed unharmed and solid as a rock. These hostages were an ongoing problem, and she would be happy when they were gone. When he finally noticed her watching him, his brows dipped low as if in annoyance, and her sigh of relief shifted to concern.
Someone latched onto her elbow a moment later, and Astrid turned to see Pádraig’s smiling face. “Ah, ye are a little late for the entertainment.”
“Release my arm!” Astrid’s breathing sped up at the sight of him despite her show of bravery.
The man merely smiled. A slow, conniving smile meant to intimidate, and it certainly did that.
“Do as she ordered.” Marcán’s voice held no room for refusal and the sight of him set her heart to soaring. He stopped an arm’s distance from them with narrowed eyes and a menacing glare. “If ye’ve a mind to keep that arm sound, let her gonow.”
Pádraig released her arm, even taking a step away from her. “Well, aren’t ye the hero this day?”
“My thanks, Marcán.” Her sigh of relief was cut short when Pádraig turned to her, his immense anger obvious.
“Ye have yer protector still, Astrid? And when will ye be explaining to him the change in my status to ye?”
“Yer status tome?There is no status, hence there is no change!” Astrid’s tone was more than firm.
“Ye prefer I tell him? Or mayhap yer mother?” Pádraig turned to Marcán. “Are ye interested in the news?”
Astrid’s breath was trapped in her chest.
Marcán crossed his arms in a show of patience, but the height of his brow indicated something different, as did his tone. “The only news that interests me is why ye don’t appear as a man mourning the death of his father.”
“Pádraig?” a short, red-headed man, one of his warband, called from behind them. Ian was with him as well. “Yer sister has sent word. She needs ye to return posthaste.”
Ian moved in closer to Pádraig, barely glancing at Marcán. “They question ye becomingri túaithe, brother,” she overheard. “I am afeared for our safety.”
