Shielding his body behind the thick trunk, he peered around. Waves curled off the bow in a roll of white as the vessel navigated to sail parallel to the coast. Several men were visible as they stood on the starboard rail.
One of the sailors shouted, motioning toward the shore.
Rónán glanced to where waves tossed the sodden, charred planks of theAodhagainst the rocks. Farther down, stacks of splintered boards lay in awkward piles half covered in seaweed, no doubt carried to shore during high tide.
The crunch of snow behind Rónán had him whirling and withdrawinghis broadsword.
Wrapped in her cape, Lathir walked toward him.
Blast it! He waved her down and sheathed his weapon.
Her face paled as she ducked, then scrambled up the incline to join him. “What do you see?”
“A ship on the horizon. Keep low and take a look.”
Her breaths disappearing in fading puffs of white, she peered around the trunk. Her body tensed. “The bloody Sassenach are surveying the wreckage. Nay doubt proud oftheir attack.”
“Aye, but the wreckage should convince them we are dead. Look, the cog’s sails are filling and the ship is heading seaward. Now we can travel without worrying whether the English areon our trail.”
In silence, they watched until the vessel was but a hazy dot in the distance. He stood, then scowled at her. “I told you toremain inside.”
She pushed to her feet. Brushing the snow from her cape, solemn eyes held his. “I came to say that ’twas wrong of me to pry into your life.”
With a grumble, he bent to gatherup some wood.
“Asfriends,” she said, a smile touching her mouth as she emphasized the word, “what you choose to tell me or notis up to you.”
“Friendship is naught but another way to gather information,” he said over his shoulder.
“’Tis.”
And he knew remaining here sparring with her would offer him naught but added frustration. “Now that you are here, you can help me haul wood to the hut.”
“Rónán.”
At the teasing in her voice, he turned, stilled. Despite his best intentions to ignore his attraction, he was captivated by how the wind caught her hair, feathered tendrils across her cheeks, the fullness of her lips.
He swallowed hard. “Aye?”
“I willna apologizefor the kiss.”
Bedamned, the last thing he wanted to be reminded of was her taste, the feel of her in his arms, her body molded against his.
He snapped off several large branches, held out a couple to her. “Take these and go. I will be right behind you; then I will returnfor the rest.”
Wrapping her hands around the thick boughs, she glanced back. “How much are we goingto bring back?”
“We?”
“Aye. Like it or not,I am helping.”
Fine then, let her help; ’twould give them a chore to do rather than talk about what they mean to each other. “Enough to replenish what we use and a few days’ more.”
The sun sank low on the horizon as they worked. Vibrant yellows and oranges smeared the sky, the sweep of errant clouds tainted with deep purple hues adding a brilliant sheento the sunset.
Lathir loaded the final branches in her arms, then turned toward the hut and stilled. “Someone is approachingfrom the west.”
Narrowing his eyes, Rónán dropped his bundle and withdrew his sword. In the fading light, he studied the distant movement headed toward them. In the whip of wind-hurled snow, he made out a wagon, and a child seated beside the man tending to the reins. “’Tis Tighearnán andÓrlaith.”
