At the sound of distant voices, hereleased her.
Suppressing a sigh of disappointment, she looked around. Near the edge of the village, Tighearnán was heading toward them with a tall, burly man garbed in a thick fur cloak at his side.
She looked at Rónán; his gaze had shifted to the approaching men, the longing of moments before shielded. What had he been about to say? Blast it, why was she torturing herself? He’d made it clear that his life was dedicated to war, not to settling down with awife or family.
Despite what she may have wished, after their covert conversation the night before, she understood his reasoning. His account of what he and his fellow Templars had endured would leave anyone with a heart in despair.
Although she believed that, like his profound faith, his life as a warrior had evolved out of self-preservation, and there was more to him than being a weapon at the king’s command.
As for his being a good father, she recalled how he’d knelt before Órlaith so as not to intimidate her with his size. How many men would do something so thoughtful for a child? Aye, regardless of the doubts he held in regard to a family, he would makea fine father.
With the passion that he applied to his life, he would make a wonderful lover as well. Heat crept through her, and for a moment she embraced the need Rónán inspired, confident his passionate kiss was but a wisp of how tender and fierce he would be in bed. Then she sighed and dismissed her wayward thoughts. It wasn’t meant to be.
Two children carrying bundles glanced curiously at them before darting into a home at the endof the village.
The crunch of steps on snow sounded as Tighearnán and his friend neared. Several paces away, they halted. “I would like to introduce you to Bran.”
No surname, she noted. Nor, as no doubt he’d been part of Tighearnán’s illustrious crew, didshe expect one.
Thick brows salted with gray lifted and sharp eyes took her in. “Lady Lathir McConaghy.”
Shenodded. “Bran.”
“And,” Tighearnán continued, “Sir Rónán.”
The burly man gave Rónán a nod, then crossed his arms over his chest. “The captain said you would be needing my help, and that of my crew.”
His crew. ’Twould seem that the other man had stepped into Tighearnán’s shoes. “Aye,” she replied. “Sir Feradach O’Dowd has abducted my father, the Earl of Sionn. Sir Rónán and I must reach Wynshire Castle to raise a force to find and rescue my father.”
Before they killed him. Lathir shuddered at the terrifying thought.
Bran gestured toward the hut paces away. “Most of my men are inside, as we recently returned from a”—he cleared his throat—“from seeing to an important matter.”
In other words, a raid. “I hope the ship was English.”
Humor twinkled in his eyes, and Bran gave a hearty laugh. “Indeed. Their cog is limping toward England as we speak. They were none too pleased with ourvisit, but I assured them that my allowing their vessel to leave with them alive was a boon.”
Tighearnán grunted. “You are a better man than I.”
A combination of sympathy and anger flashed on his friend’s face. “Nay, had the Sassenach killed the woman I loved as I sailed away, the cog would have been naught but kindling in my wake.”
Tension singed the air. Face taut, Tighearnán stepped back. “Let us go inside and speak to your men.”
They started toward the hut, and Lathir shot Rónán a glance, caught the anger in his eyes, fury she empathized with. To tear a woman from her home, murder her,was despicable.
A scrape sounded as Bran tugged the door open. Billows of grayish smoke belched from the entry. He stepped inside, andthey followed.
Welcoming the warmth, Lathir halted as Rónán pulled the door closed behind her. The tang of ale competed with smoke as her eyes slowly adjusted to the murky interior.
A massive stone hearth stood against the back wall, two swords, one crossed upon the other hanging above. Inside, fire raged, bursts of yellow and orange flames consuming the large chunks of wood as smoke rolled into the chimney.
Thick, round posts flush against the walls supported the thatched roof. Casks of brew, no doubt acquired on one of their exploits, lay stacked againstthe left wall.
A large trencher table in the middle took up a sizable portion of the remaining space. Rough-looking men half-filled the benches on either side; men who, with their entrance, had shifted their attention toward them.
With a confident swagger, Tighearnán strode across the room, Bran at his side.
The men shouted outtheir welcome.
