Tighearnán gave a grim nod. “Regardless of what happens, I will help you find your father.”
Eyes narrowed, she glared at Rónán. “I dinna like therisk. What if…”
From her voice, he knew she thought of the worst. He’d faced many conflicts before, but never had one mattered so much.
He drew her to him. “’Tis a necessary risk. If indeed Lord Torridan has made peace with your father, he will agree to help us free him.”
Her lower lip trembled, but Lathir gave a rough exhale. “Be safe.”
“Lower the boat,” Bran called to his crew.
Rónán cupped her face. “I love you, Lathir. Iwill be back.”
“You had better,” she said fiercely, “or I will come ashore after you.”
A promise no doubt she’d try to keep, though Tighearnán and Bran would prevent her from doing something so dangerous. Lathir strode to the rail, where a sailor unfurled a rope ladderover the side.
“I love you, Rónán,” she called.
After accepting a white strip of cloth from Tighearnán, Rónán shot her a wink, then climbed to the small craft bobbing in the water.
Water splashed as he dipped in his oars and rowed shoreward. Out of arrow range but close enough to be heard, Rónán turned the craft sideways before the man astride his black steedon the grass.
He paused as he saw a younger man bearing a striking resemblance to the earl, his fine garb and extraordinary mail declaring him of noble birth. No doubt a relation.A son, perhaps?
Rónán waved a white strip of cloth. “Lord Torridan, my name is Sir Rónán. Before I come ashore, I seek your assurance that I willna be seized.”
The noble’s lean face drew tight. “I dinna make dealswith brigands!”
“I am not an outlaw. I come to speak in the name of Lord Sionn.”
Lines of doubt creased the earl’s brow.
The younger noble leaned close to Lord Torridan and spoke in tones too low forRónán to hear.
The elder shook his head, then lifted his hand. “I order you to come ashore.”
“And your promise that I willna be captured?”Rónán called.
The earl shook his head. “Once I learn your reason,I will decide.”
Bedamned, there was no easy way do this. Nor would he reveal that Lathir was on board. If they apprehended him, Bran would be able to escape and takeher to safety.
With a prayer that Lord Torridan had indeed found peace with Lord Sionn, Rónán rowed to shore. A short while later, ice crunched beneath his steps as he climbed up the half-frozen bank and strode toward the ruler of the realm of Tír Connail. Paces away, he halted.
Gray sprinkled the fierce leader’s dark brown hair, which was secured in a tie behind his neck. His slate-gray eyes were piercing, those of a man used to wielding power, a warrior unafraid regardlessthe challenge.
He glanced at the noble at the daunting man’s side. Not a lad, but a year or two younger than himself. Though lean, the cut of his muscles along with his shrewd, unapologetic green eyes assured Rónán that he, too, was a man seasoned in war.
Rónán faced the powerful leader. He’d dealt with men of their ilk many times over. The formidable lord would appreciate a direct approach, so he would tell him, and deal with whatever repercussions followed. “Lord Torridan, as I stated before, I come to speak in the nameof Lord Sionn.”
Mouth tight, he glanced toward the cog before his gaze turned back toRónán. “Why does he not come ashore?”
“Because he isna aboard.” Images of the attack poured through Rónán. “He was abducted from theAodhalmost a fortnight ago by Sir Feradach O’Dowd, who led a crew of Irishmen and Englishmen under King Edward II’s flag.”
A ruddy hue darkened the man’s face. “Are you sure ’twas Lord Ardgar’s master-at-arms?”
The image of the cur was burned in Rónán’s mind. Regardless of the years that’d passed, if the miscreant had grown haggard and walked with a stoop, he would still recognize him. “Aye. If Lord Sionn is still alive, we need your helpto rescue him.”
