The forceful way he’d told Beibhinn to set it aside for now had made Astrid breathe a sigh of relief. And the way that he’d askedAstrid’s permissionfor Merewyn to return to her own people? That had gone a long way toward showing Astrid that her brother was seeing her differently. She would miss Merewyn, but trusted Diarmuid when he said it was what the lass wanted. And no one could deny that it would be safer for someone with Merewyn’s healing ability and low status to keep well away from Beibhinn.
No sooner had Diarmuid walked away than Beibhinn had repeated her threat. She’d narrowed her eyes shrewdly and said, “When the priest comes, all things will be settled. Do ye not agree?”
Astrid, clinging to the slender strands of hope her brother had given her, had replied, “All things will indeed be settled in due course… for all of us.”
And now here she was with her love. After saying a farewell to Merewyn, Astrid had snuck away unseen to lie in wait, praying for Marcán to come to her. Her prayers had been answered.
Desperate to remember everything, Astrid could not get enough of him. His sweet murmurs of love, the arousing touch of his hands on her bare skin, and the gentleness of his mouth setting her aflame were all etched in her mind. Just when she was certain she was satiated, the tears returned and she again sought his ministrations.
“Ye are like an unquenchable need in my soul,” he said, as if it were him seeking to remember her rather than the other way around.
Repeatedly she told him she loved him, and she would only ever love him. When he held her close, their bodies spent, he kissed the top of her head and her eyes drifted closed. This could well be the last time she would be held in his arms, intimately entwined in both body and soul, and the thought crushed her.
She was in no hurry to see the night end.
Chapter 17
The sun was just cresting the horizon as the party accompanying theri túathbegan to gather near theráth. The group included Diarmuid since Sean sought his support at a meeting with several otherrig túath.Aednat’s reprehensible treatment at the hands of Black Oengus needed to be addressed. With a rogue noble stooping to such behavior, a long-standing agreement had been breached, and a new level of understanding was required. Sean had even considered going so far as to put it into writing, which gave it the same importance as the word of God. His hope was that with Diarmuid present, the others might be persuaded to take this monumental step.
Brighit, Sean’s daughter, seemed particularly interested in getting the trip started. Her reins were so tightly held, the animal was having a hard time staying still. The others who’d gathered for the journey east to the Drogheda Clan seemed less anxious. The lass’s parents had not even joined her yet.
Marcán, who’d come early to wait for Diarmuid, gripped the lead of his friend’s prized horse and approached him as soon as he arrived. “I had hoped we could speak.”
“Brighit, please settle yer horse,” Diarmuid called to the girl before turning his attention back to Marcán. “Sean has his hands full with that one.”
“More so her betrothed, I believe.” Marcán dropped his smile. “I have been trying without success to approach ye w—”
“Let loose the reins, lass.” Diarmuid’s voice carried across the group.
“I am trying!” An angry blush spread across her face as her mount continued its skittish movements.
“Have ye never ridden before?”
Marcán turned away to hide his smile at Diarmuid’s teasing.
She was a proud lass and her response was not surprising.
“If ye think ye can do a better job, Diarmuid, ye’re welcome to try!”
A quick look at Diarmuid’s face betrayed his irritation. His concern for his wife, and reluctance to leave her at such a time were obvious to Marcán.
“More than a handful,” Diarmuid mumbled.
“And ye said the same about yer sister,” Marcán replied in the same hushed tone.
Diarmuid’s eyes widened at Marcán, who simply smiled and asked, “So now do I have yer attention?”
Brighit’s horse’s antics made the rest of the horses restless and caused general disgruntled comments. Silently, Marcán and Diarmuid watched until she finally got the beast to settle down.
“Will ye see to things here?” Diarmuid pulled on his riding gloves with irritating precision.
“I will see to all things,” Marcán said. “Do not fash yerself. Astrid will keep yer wife company until yer return.”
Diarmuid’s sharp glance gave Marcán pause, as if he’d heard something in his tone. Was his affection for Astrid so obvious that even saying her name revealed his true feelings?
“And what did ye wish to speak to me about?” Diarmuid asked, his eyes narrowing.
Something in Diarmuid’s expression caused an uneasiness to creep into Marcán’s chest. He searched his friend’s face. Was Marcán being overly suspicious, or was the man playing with him?
