Plenty, as Liadan discovered when she was up on her feet. When they were washed and dressed and she had braided his hair for him, her fingers lingering over the task. When she tied back the leather door curtain and the world came rushing back in.
Voices, calls across the settlement, the whinny of a pony, the wail of a small child. Soon, aye, Maeve would come. Herpresence would change everything, dispel the magic woven last night.
“Cathair went with us yesterday,” Ardahl said in a low voice as he drank the broth she gave him.
“Aye?”
“When we reached home again, he made a threat. I should rather say, he warned me. To watch my back.” He lifted his gaze to Liadan’s face. “Liadan, I am convinced, more than ever, he had somewhat to do wi’ Conall’s death.”
“As am I. Him and Brasha.”
“Aye, but how?”
“I do not know. Brasha had been working her wiles on Conall.”
“Had him in the palm o’ her hand.”
“Aye. D’ye think—” Liadan hesitated, tentative in her words and her thoughts. “D’ye think she somehow turned Conall against ye? Spoke in his ear, perhaps. Whispered—I do not know. Lies.”
Ardahl’s eyes—clear hazel in the morning light—met hers. “’Tis possible, aye. The same has been in the back o’ my mind. But why—”
“Cathair. If Brasha is under his thumb even as my brother was under hers—and if Cathair wanted rid o’ ye…”
Ardahl drew himself up. Before he could speak to accept or refute the idea, his mother appeared outside the door, her basket over her arm. She shot a quick look from one to the other of them, bright and perceptive, before sweeping the inside of the hut with a glance.
“Is all well here?”
“Aye, Mam.” Quickly, Ardahl gathered up his weapons. “I must off to the practice or whatever other duty Dornach assigns me.”
“Ye ha’ had no breakfast but that broth,” Liadan protested.
“I ha’ all I need.” For an instant his gaze seared her, blessed her, before he ducked away into the morning.
A marked silence fell once he’d gone. Maeve put down her basket and unwound the shawl from her head.
“Liadan, I am thinking ye and I need to speak together.”
“Och, aye?”
Maeve, avoiding Liadan’s gaze, gave a frown. “Ye are without a mother o’ your own, and as I ha’ more or less stepped into the place—well. Ardahl is my son and I adore him, but when a young lass begins lying down wi’ a man, there are things that should be said.”
“Are there?”
“Yes.”
Liadan turned to face her. “Ye adore him. As do I. I do no’ believe there is more to be said.”
Maeve’s expression softened. “But Liadan, the situation—”
“The situation is, aye, unfortunate. Dire and desperate. Each time he walks away from me, I canna be sure I will see him again. If an attack will come. If Fearghal will take it into his head to ride out and beard Dacha once more. If he will come back in the bottom o’ his chariot.”
“Aye, so. That is why I left the two o’ ye alone last night, exactly why. That ye might ha’ some time, at least.”
“Precious time.”
“But then while away, I got to thinking. I should no’ ha’ left ye. What if there is a child? What would ye do then?”
“There will not be.” Liadan flushed scarlet. “He was careful.”
