“What kind of information?”
Irene leaned forward conspiratorially. “Information about the one ye seek. The one who has been eluding ye for so long.” She cocked her head to one side. “Although that person might not be who ye think it is.”
Conall shifted uncomfortably. He had put into this cove to grab a bit of rest and something to eat before he set out on his way again. But instead of rest, he found himself in the company of this strange old woman who’d appeared from Lord-alone-knew where. But if she knew about his mission...if she had information that could help...
His grip on his sword hilt tightened. “How do I know I can trust what ye say?”
Irene shrugged. “Ye dinna. But what do ye have to lose?”
She had a point there. He released his sword hilt and crossed his arms. “All right. I’m listening.”
Irene smiled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ye canna move forward while looking back. Ye must face yer past if ye want to find yer future.” She cocked her head, black eyes boring into him. “And I believe the one who will help ye do that is on their way.”
He scowled. “And what, exactly, has that got to do with my mission?”
Irene’s smile vanished and her gaze took on a sudden intensity. “Everything.”
Conall felt a shiver run down his spine. He had always been a man who trusted his instincts, and right now they were screaming that there was something going on here, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His stomach felt heavy as he stared at the old woman, trying to decipher her words. She had an air about her, a sense of knowing, that unnerved him.
Irene seemed to read the doubt on his face. She leaned forward. “Everything is a choice, my lad,” she said softly. “And each one we make takes us further along the path we’ve chosen. But sometimes, we have to turn around completely and return to the starting point before we can see the true road ahead.”
Before he could reply, Irene puffed to her feet. “My thanks for the meal, lad. Now, if ye dinna mind, I think it’s time for me to be moving on. But remember what I said. The past isnae something to be feared or forgotten. It’s a part of who ye are, and ye canna find yer path until ye make peace with it.”
With that, Irene began to hobble away, her figure growing smaller and smaller until she was nothing more than a speck in the distance. Conall remained seated, staring after her.
Not for the first time, he wished his sword-brothers were with him. His commander, Kai Stewart, would have handled the strange encounter better. He would have had a cocky grin and a clever comment or two which would have had Irene MacAskill spilling all she knew. Magnus would have charmed her with his soft words and easy smile. Oskar would have intimidated her until she answered his questions. Emeric would have scoffed and laughed off her words as though they were just fluff on the wind.
But him? He was left feeling unsettled and out of sorts, as though he was missing something important. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. He had a mission to accomplish, and he would not be distracted by a strange old woman’s words.
Just then, he heard a wooden thump come from the boat. He froze, his eyes narrowing as he studied the vessel carefully. The sound came again, the unmistakable thud of feet on decking.
Someone was on his boat!
He growled low in his throat, cursing himself for an utter idiot. Irene had been a distraction, keeping him talking whilst somebody tried to steal his boat!
He leapt to his feet and sprinted across the sand into the surf, grabbed the gunwales, and hauled himself aboard, landing lightly on the planks and drawing his sword.
But he saw nobody.
Then he heard a muffled cry and noticed movement by the mast. A sail had torn loose and it looked as though something was trapped in it, wriggling and struggling beneath the thick canvas.
Sheathing his sword, he strode over, grabbed the canvas, and tore it away, revealing a woman lying on the deck, looking up at him with a shocked expression. She had red-brown hair in a wild tangle, large eyes and a spattering of freckles across her nose. She scrambled to her feet and backed away, staring at him.
“Who the hell are ye?” he demanded. “And what are ye doing on my boat?”
The woman scowled at him. “Who the hell areyou?” she shot back. “And what the hell are you doing onmyboat?”
