Pádraig snorted, looking back the way the men had come. Ian glanced at Marcán then, trying to catch his gaze, but Marcán’s eyes were intent onher. She wished to be anywhere but here.
“Astrid.” Pádraig turned his gaze to her, his face surprisingly relaxed for one with such turmoil needing his attention. “I wish ye to visit with Beibhinn and listen well. I will be back anon, and we will speak then.”
The words themselves were unremarkable and his tone was calm, but Astrid wanted to scream at him. To tell him to leave her alone and never come back. To tell him it didn’t matter what her mother had to say, Astrid would not be marrying him. Ever. But she had no words for him.
Tipping his head, Pádraig acknowledged Marcán and left with the red-headed man.
Marcán was beside her in two strides, a single finger sliding against her cheek, his gaze intently searching her. “What was he about? Did he cause ye trouble? Diarmuid has been as elusive as smoke. Please—”
“Marcán?” It was Ian. He stood a few feet away. “May I have a word with ye?”
The boy’s cowering manner sent off alarms in Astrid. His paleness indicated the situation was much worse than Pádraig had said. The lad glanced around nervously when Marcán didn’t immediately consent.
“I am fine,” Astrid said.
“Are ye certain?” Marcán continued in the same intimate tone.
Ian coughed before he spoke again. “A moment of yer time. I beg of ye.”
“Wait for me here, Astrid.” Marcán’s eyes remained on her, but the concern he’d been hiding came through in his expression. She nodded and then watched as the two stepped away, leaving with the dispersing crowd.
“A-Astrid?” Faolán had come upon her so silently she wasn’t prepared for him. Her eyes must have shown her blatant fear of him, because he immediately lowered his gaze. “I-I do not like to see such u-upset i-in those eyes w-when ye look o-on me.”
She considered telling him he was wrong but decided against it. “What is amiss?”
“Yer mother w-wishes to see ye.”
Astrid glanced again toward Marcán. He and Ian stood off to the side, deep in conversation. She gritted her teeth and turned back to Faolán. “And where shall I find her?”
“C-come this w-way.”
Instead of leading her back to the roundhouse, Faolán guided her down the path toward Diarmuid’s house. What was he thinking? Her brother was with the group they were quickly leaving behind.
Astrid’s chest tightened as she followed Faolán onto an offshoot from the path. Marcán’s warning not to go anywhere alone rang in her ears. Was she no longer safe with Faolán? She didn’t know for certain, but when they came to a clearing, her mother sat there on a rock as if she’d been awaiting her. Astrid had the feeling she had walked into a trap.
Beibhinn’s expression was blank even when she spoke to Faolán. “My thanks.”
“Are ye not well?” Astrid asked.
Beibhinn slumped slightly, a sigh escaping her lips. “I am weary to my very bones, daughter.”
Astrid moved in closer, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Do ye need help getting back? Faolán can hel—”
“No.” Beibhinn’s eyes bore into her, but Astrid could not sense if she was vexed or sad. “I need to talk to ye.”
Astrid glanced at Faolán. The way he avoided her gaze gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Beibhinn continued. “Faolán has brought me some news that I find quite upsetting.”
“Oh has he?” Astrid’s jaw tightened.
“He has. He believes ye may have been taken in by a man ye should not trust.”
Astrid glared at him, but he squared his shoulders, his nose tipped up.
Beside herself with fury, Astrid barked back a reply without even thinking. “And would that be Pádraig?”
The man’s pallor was the only change she saw.
