“Begging your lairdship’s pardon.” Kieran turned his head as an old woman missing several teeth interrupted them.
He sat up at once, giving her his full attention. “What can I do for you, madam?”
Her mouth drooped for a moment. “No’ a thing, sir, unless ye can bring back the dead. But that ain’t wha’ I was going to say. I already offered Lady Rossburn my cottage for the night, and I’d be honored if you would both bide there this evenin’.”
Kieran took one work-roughened hand in both of his. “I am profoundly touched at your offer, but Lady Rossburn and I couldn’t possibly drive you from your home, especially at a time like this.”
The old woman’s chin trembled. “ ‘Tis no’ a problem for me. I lost my husband to the sea eighteen years ago, and then yesterday my youngest son.” She looked down, fighting for composure. “I canna face going back in there yet, so I’ll stay here tonight and get breakfast tomorrow morning for this lot.”
Diantha glided up and slid an arm around the woman’s thin shoulders. “Mrs. Dunn’s daughter and son-in-law live in Ulladale. Doctor Andrews is going to take her back to stay with them when he returns home.” She smiled at the medical man where he sat.
The old woman told her to come along. “I’ve just come from lighting a fire in the hearth to warm it, and we can’t leave it unwatched.”
Diantha lifted a plain wool cloak from a hook on the wall and gracefully wrapped herself up in it.
She looked over at Kieran before following Mrs. Dunn out the door. “I shall see you in a while, my lord?”
The last thing he wanted was company, even hers, but he nodded. “Yes. I have some things to go over with the men first, though. Don’t wait up.”
His responsibilities seemed to weigh down more heavily on his shoulders after she slipped away. He took his time outlining the next day’s tasks, wanting to make sure each man understood his duties. By the time he left the Herring House, he looked forward to a night alone. He needed some time without worrying about everyone’s expectations.
Provided, of course, that his wife was asleep. Then again, given her flagrant disregard for his orders, she clearly did not look to him for leadership. Or perhaps she knew his needs better than he did himself, part of his mind whispered as he walked along the dark lane. He remembered the sense of comfort that swept over him on seeing her at supper and sighed.
Mrs. Dunn had given him exact directions to her house. He found it easily, and stealthily slipped inside the door. Light from a kerosene lamp and the dying fire illuminated an immaculately clean one-room cottage.
Diantha slept in a box bed against the wall opposite the fireplace. She left the sliding panel open in invitation. Before the hearth sat a small tin tub and two pails of water sat warming on the hearth itself.
He emptied one bucket into the tub as quietly as possible and stripped, leaving his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor. Stepping in, he soaped the linen washcloth and scrubbed every inch of his bodytwice. Then he poured the clean water from the second bucket over his body to rinse off, closing his eyes to keep the water out. Blindly he reached for the towel he had noticed on the chair by the tub.
After drying himself off and pushing the tub to one side, he examined the offerings Diantha had left on the table under one of the windows. Two complete changes of clothes and a pile of thick blankets from the Duncarie linen closets. He smiled, unable to recall the last time he’d enjoyed such a sense of well-being. Then he started.
Diantha’s eyes glittered in the firelight as she stretched out in the bed, hands behind her head, frankly ogling him.
“What are you doing?”
She grinned. “Enjoying the view.” Her manner became more serious as she held out her hand. “Come to bed, Kier.”
He approached her, but did not crawl in. Gently tucking the sheets in around her he kissed her eyes and mouth. “I’m not going to be good company tonight, darling. Go to sleep, I’ll be in front of the fireplace.”
He could feel her eyes on him as he spread out the blankets into a makeshift bedroll in front of the fireplace. She must have been tired, for she soon fell back asleep.
He added some wood to the fire and stared at the flames. He did not expect to sleep tonight, just as he had not the night before.
Twenty-eight boys and men dead. Could he have prevented it?
* **
Despite the disappointment that Kieran did not join her, Diantha had fallen asleep quickly. His tender good night had eased the sting of rejection, but the sick look in his eyes had disturbed her. She dreamed of watching helplessly while huge black birds attacked him.
She woke up disoriented. Around her was a wooden box and she heard a repetitive booming in the distance. A soft, irregular noise came from somewhere nearby. Throwing out a hand, she hit the edge of the bed. Coming to full wakefulness, she recognized the bed and the hollow thud of waves in the cove, but she could not place the other sound.
Raising herself on an elbow, she looked around the semi-dark room. Her eyes settled on Kieran. Wrapped up in his blankets, he lay before the hearth, breathing in harsh gasps.
Flinging back the blankets, she scrambled out of bed and across the floor. “Kier! What’s wrong? Tell me, please!”
Stepping around him, she knelt in front of him to see his face. When he lifted his head to look up at her, she exclaimed at his reddened eyes and wet cheeks. Diantha slid into the blankets next to him. “My dear, why are you crying?”
He answered by holding her close and burying his face in her shoulder. Grateful that he did not reject her, she wrapped her arms around him, one hand stroking his hair.
