“Very happy indeed.” Brighit offered her lips to his, still amazed at his ability to make her feel safe and secure when everything around them was dangerous and unknown. “Forgiveness please for hurting ye.”
He tipped her chin up with a gentle touch, looking into her eyes. “My love, ye had been through a horrible ordeal. I wish only that ye could have shared it with me.”
“I should have trusted ye.” She nodded. “I did not trust Terrence over ye. Some of the powder had rubbed off. He saw the bruises.”
“Thank ye for that. Terrence told me ye refused to give him any details. I am pleased ye’ve decided ye could trust me.” He brushed her cheek. “We have come a long way with trust, have we not?”
“Indeed.”
“Good.” Darragh bent over to lift her from the ground, tossing her over his shoulder.
“What are ye about?” she squealed.
Heading to the left of the main entrance, where Tadhg was no doubt still soothing her father’s temper, Darragh climbed the steps that ran along the outside of the building, taking them two at a time.
“I’ve a powerful need for my wife.”
“Now?” Brighit gripped his body as she tried to pick her head up, forcing herself to resist any thrashing about or loud carrying on despite her desire to be put down.
“I can think of no better time.”
“But my father is here,” she said, and even to her ears it sounded like a lame excuse.
“And he’ll have to wait.”
She refused to laugh. “But—”
He halted whatever she was about to say with a firm slap to her bottom, his hand remaining where it fell. When he started caressing her lightly, setting off her own need, Brighit decided there were definitely worst ways they could spend this time.
The council convened, and the proof brought forth before the panel of nobles included the testimony of the three witnesses who had heard everything Seigine had said to Brighit—Darragh, Tadhg, and Francis. Since Seigine himself confessed what he had done, there was little need for more discussion. The kings and others from the line of kings deemed worthy to be on this council were not insensitive to her plight, but it did become necessary for Brighit to tell her side of what had happened.
As was the custom, the meeting was held outside in plain view of any who wished to come and bear witness and most did. Brighit handled herself with a dignity rarely seen in any of the warriors who addressed the council. Although Sean’s outrage was barely contained as she told her story with little emotion, Darragh could only feel an amazing sense of pride in his wife.
Seigine was determined to be guilty of murdering his own brother. The condition of the body, stabbed repeatedly by an enraged man, brought him little sympathy. The fact that he had killed the very man he had pledged to protect only made it a more horrific crime, requiring nothing less than Seigine’s death.
Cathair had believed the warriors sneaking onto MacCochlain land that night were the ones who’d killed their livestock, ruined their grain, and mayhap even attacked their women. The warriors had lain in wait to defend what was theirs. The sorrow of the rest of the MacCochlain warriors was only deepened by the realization that Seigine had been murdering their leader while they were off fighting the intruders.
These same warriors had traveled with Seigine because they’d believed he wished to find his brother’s murderer. Cathair’s closest friend, Garbhán, had stepped up to promise personal protection to Seigine. As a sign of his commitment, he’d added a braided lock of the man’s hair to his black arm band, which all of the warriors wore as a symbol of mourning for the loss of their king.
Once he had heard the witnesses, including Brighit? Garbhán stepped out from the crowd, ripped the lock of hair from his arm to drop it on the ground and crushed it beneath his heal. Seigine averted his eyes when the men who had served him lined up beside Garbhán and turned their back to him.
The execution of Seigine was to take place in a fortnight, giving enough time for his entire clan to be present to witness the punishment. At the urging of the council, and with the agreement of the other warriors including Garbhán, the joining of Clan MacCochlain to Clan Dubhshláine was completed as Cathair had planned. It was the very thing that had enraged Seigine enough to murder his own brother. Prayers were offered for Cathair.
Darragh considered this a good time to take Brighit on a trek back to visit their friends, Gwen and William. He did not want her to have to see the man chained in the bailey every day or to have to witness his execution. It would be too much. And if the weather was rough as they traveled, he felt certain they would manage.
The couple took the news about their nephews very hard. They’d never had their own children and the brothers had been like sons to them. Gwen was beside herself to learn how Seigine had threatened Brighit, especially since she herself had unknowingly played a part in it. William privately admitted to Darragh that he’d always had his own concerns about the rivalry between the boys.
The parting was hard for both couples, but Brighit and Darragh promised to come visit again in the spring.
“Ye’ve been very quiet.” Darragh glanced at Brighit riding beside him, dressed in her trews and tunic. “Do ye have concerns about the council’s declaration?”
“Oh no, I believe they were more than fair.”
“Difficult decisions to make.”
And selecting who would live and who would die was the hardest duty for any leader. Battle required a warrior be put in harm’s way. Some survived and some did not. Darragh had faced his fair share of such choices.
“Is that one of the reasons ye’d prefer not to be namedri?”
