They passed Niall, who was regaling the lads with more tales of his midnight raids back in Alba.
“I am inclined to action, whereas yer mother is more thoughtful.”
Darragh wasn’t certain how to take that last bit. When he noticed Brighit off to the side of the group, awkwardly hunkered down beside the garden as if she were weeding, he gave it no more thought. From her flushed face and the way her hand was barely moving over the tops of the plants, Darragh knew she was listening to Niall’s tales.
Everyone enjoyed Niall’s stories, each more exciting—and exaggerated—than the last. The young warriors especially enjoyed the entertainment, always asking for more. And Niall enjoyed keeping their eyes, wide with awe and wonder, stuck on him. Surely there would be no harm in such worship of a man they barely saw. One who would be leaving soon. No harm at all.
“When they chased after us, their swords high in the air and ready to attack,” Niall said, “they lost us at the first bend in the road.”
“But, Uncle, how were ye able to lose them so quick?”
“Have ye not been listening, Lachlann? That was where the trail started. We had ducked onto it, disappearing before they made it past the first boulder that shielded us from them.”
Lachlann slapped his leg and guffawed. His amazement at Uncle Niall’s stories was shared by all present, including Brighit. She’d stepped away from the others upon catching sight of her father and Tadhg, their heads tilted together in conversation. Tisa had sent her over to gather some dandelions from the garden, a task she’d neglected in favor of joining the group of lads listening to her uncle. Scooting down beside the garden, she picked the dandelions half-heartedly, her ears perked toward her uncle.
Her skin tingled as Niall re-told the story of his near capture. Her breath caught as he spoke of his captors pressing a knife to his neck. She edged closer, abandoning the dandelions.
Watching as Tadhg moved away, Niall leaned toward Brighit, his voice dropping. “Would ye like to have one last raid as a lad before ye wed, niece?” He winked at her. “I promise ye a night ye’ll not soon forget.”
“That would be wonderful.”
He beamed. “Consider it done.”
“What did ye have in mind?”
“Ah, now ’tis a surprise but rest assured, the rest of the lads are up for it as well.”
She could barely contain her excitement. The faces of those gathered around him held the same eagerness. The twinge of guilt at betraying Darragh’s trust was quickly set aside. This was different. This was an adventure with her uncle! Besides, Darragh need never know.
Beaming, she said, “’Twould be the best of wedding gifts. Thank ye, Uncle Niall.”
“My pleasure.”
“Darragh frowns on such things.” Her face heated at how whiny she sounded.
He nodded, the corners of his eyes creasing with his smile. “I’m not convinced yer young lad lacks any desire for excitement.”
“He’s far too responsible to do anything that his father would disapprove of.”
Niall raised both brows. “Then certainly my bonny niece will have to change his ways and turn him toward a life less predictable and staid.”
“I will do my best.” Brighit kissed her uncle’s cheek. “But I do thank ye for taking us out one last time. When shall we meet?”
“Well,ye’llbe meeting me as soon as they’ve tucked ye off safely to bed.” Niall winked again before turning his gaze to the eager faces of the lads surrounding him. “Ye all can join me as soon as ye can sneak away unobserved. With all these clans gathered for the celebration, ye should not soon be missed.”
“Unobserved?” Lachlann snorted. “What a way with words ye have.”
Her brother Calum shook his head, giving his uncle a sideways glance. “And what a way with the ladies.”
“Well, I can’t seem to fight them off…”
Brighit didn’t miss the dark cloud that passed over her uncle’s handsome face. It was no secret that he’d been making his way through the willing lasses, entertaining a different one each night since his arrival. She feared it was more to avoid being alone than from any carnal need.
Niall had just lost his wife to the fever. His arrival in Drogheda had come as a shock—he was still in mourning and hadn’t been expected. That first day, Brighit had been taken aback by how pale the normally boisterous man looked. Clearly distraught.
“Are ye certain ye’re up for this, Uncle Niall?” Brighit wiped the concern from her face at Lachlann’s wide-eyed expression of warning. They’d been told by their mother to behave as if nothing was untoward and, above all else, not to mention Lily, his deceased wife.
“What are ye on about?” Niall scoffed. “I’m seeing to my favorite niece’s last night of freedom. I do not take that lightly.”
