“Spare yoursel’,” she urged.
“Ye expect me to leave here, no’ knowing—no’ knowing wha’ may become o’ ye?”
“Ye will no’?”
“I canno’.”
“Then…” Katrin spoke softly, her gaze clinging to his. Her heart had never been more certain, nor any choice more assured. “I suppose there is but one thing to be done.”
“What is that?” Finlay asked hoarsely.
A tremendous force gathered inside Katrin and flowed outward. “Before I must go, before we need bid farewell to one another”—mayhap forever—“ye had better spend the night wi’ me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Having left Katrin’schamber—with the promise to later return—Finlay went first to search out Reagan O’Hanlon. Not an easy task in itself, as the entire keep had been thrown into confusion by the order to muster. Aye, it had been expected. One might even say greatly anticipated. Still and all, chaos reigned.
He ran O’Hanlon to ground not in the bailey with his troop but at the armory, helping Robran, the head of Chief MacMurtray’s guard, sort through the supply of weapons. Panic filled Master Robran’s eyes. O’Hanlon looked steady and resigned and just a mite impatient.
The latter emotion filled his eyes when he glanced at Finlay. “Harper? What be ye doin’ here?”
“I need to speak wi’ ye.”
“Now is not a good time.”
Aye, he was naught to the warrior, was he? Not in this life, nay. But he remembered. Remembered the hum that ran over a man’s skin when he picked up his weapons. The way resolve made a knot inside him, and the narrowing of vision.
He knew what would fill O’Hanlon now—the deliberate setting aside of ordinary life to take up sword and shield.
And, in the Gallowglass’s case, axe.
“’Twill no’ tak’ long,” he told O’Hanlon. “And ’tis important.”
O’Hanlon looked at him, seemed about to brush him off, but reconsidered. “Very well. Talk.”
“No’ here.”
That made the Gallowglass’s eyebrows lift. With a gesture, he stepped away to the open area behind the armory. Finlay followed.
“What is it? I’ve a hundred things to do. We move out in a matter o’ days. My men are ready, but despite the time they’ve been given, Chief MacMurtray’s troops are woefully unprepared.”
Everyone had things to do, running headlong to destruction.
“Mistress Katrin,” Finlay said.
The Gallowglass’s gaze quickened. A frown flitted across his face. “Wha’ of her?”
“She intends to accompany her father, and ye, on this campaign.”
New thoughts appeared in O’Hanlon’s eyes. “How do ye know this?”
“She told me.”
“Och—” O’Hanlon looked like he wanted to spit or throw something.
“She says, Master O’Hanlon, that ye ha’ been working wi’ her. Training her at arms.”
“At her request.”
