They may not have chosen the other, but the more she came to know Kieran, the more she tried to convince herself that their union would be more than peaceful, but close.
Though she’d never lost a sibling. Did he ever think of his brother? Something she would not ask until their relationship was more secure.
Moments later, torchlight wavered in the turret as he closed the door behind them. The chill of the fresh night air melded with the scent of tallow and rushes as they made their wayto her chamber.
Outside her room, she paused. “Thank you.”
Thoughtfulness chiseled his features as Kieran lifted her hand, pressed a chaste kiss upon the back of her fingers. She felt nothing, but gave him a smile nonetheless. His lips quirked in silentunderstanding.
“’Til we break ourfast, my lady.”
Her mind spinning, Lathir entered her chamber, closed the door, and leaned back against the thick, carved wood. He seemed like a good man, one she could depend on. She struggled to be thankful that although her life ahead wouldna be the one she’d chosen, their union wouldn’t be one laden with strife, a fate that could have all too easily occurred.
In a twisted sense, ’twas a gift that Kieran loved another, that they were both bound by duty. He was gracious in his understanding, and from his manner tonight, Lathir suspected he wouldn’t press marital obligations untilshe was ready.
Nor would she ponder further familial duties their marriage directed. The time for that would come soon enough.
But she couldn’t banish thoughts of Rónán, of the emptiness in her heart, a place he would hold until she drew her last breath.
Emotions storming her, she crossed to her bed and climbed beneath the thick covers. Restless, she stared at the flames. Though exhausted, she doubted she’d sleep this night.
* * * *
Sunlight streamed through the leaded glass window, illuminating the crafted image of a biblical scene as Rónán settled in an empty chair at the table in the war chamber. He glanced at Lord Torridan, Lord Craigshyre, Lathir, and the master-at-arms, who were taking theirseats as well.
Rónán ignored the luxuriously crafted tapestry depicting a battle scene, the formidable display of swords, daggers, and other weaponry hanging on the wall, and remained silent. His head pounded from lack of sleep, a common occurrence since he’d learned of Lathir’s betrothal.
He’d ordered himself to push thoughts of the life they’d planned aside, but like a thorn that festered, he ached for what they’d lost. Watching her was painful, her strong and graceful beauty that of a true noble. And the spare seat to her side, clearly saved for him, was like a dart of poison. Had his relationship with God not been strong, he would have suspected the chair was meant for him to endure the tortureof her company.
He’d wanted to hate her betrothed. But after almost a fortnight, time to come to know the noble, Craigshyre was proving to be a man he could admire. He was even-tempered and clearly a man who had earned authority. Even though he heeded his father’s wishes for a wife, he did not live in his elder’s shadow. His own opinions were well-thought-out and spoke of a stalwart character.
Nor, if he was being purely logical, could Rónán fault Lord Sionn. Lathir’s father’s intention was to erase tensions betweenthe two realms.
In truth, if he didn’t love Lathir, he would have agreed that she and Kieran made a fine match.
The chair scraped as Lord Torridan stood, met each person’s gaze. “I received word from the first of the runners.”
Lathir straightened. “Have they found him?”
“Nay,” he replied.
At the devastation on her face, Rónán’s gut twisted. Blast it, by now he’d expected to have heard where her fatherhad been taken.
On several occasions he’d strode to the stable, wanting to take a mount and search himself. But too many years had passed since he’d traveled in Ireland, and he no longer had contacts he could turn to for help.
“The runner,” the noble continued in a quieter tone, seemingly in response to Lathir’s distress, “departs tomorrow to search in southeastern Ireland, where the English have control.” His gaze rested on her. “We will findhim, my lady.”
She gave a shaky nod.
Though the questions of when and if he would still be alive burned in Rónán’s mind. Bedamned this waiting!
The rapid tap of steps had them glancing toward the corridor moments before aknock sounded.
“Enter,” Lord Torridan commanded.
A guard stepped inside. “Lord Torridan, the pirate ship has returned. Their captain requests to speak with you. He states ’tis of grave importance.”
Hope flickered in Lathir’s gaze as it met Rónán’s a second before shifting to Lord Torridan. “My lord, there can be only one reason Bran would return. He has word of my father’s location.”
