“Lass, there is much to discuss, things we will address en route,” Rónán said, softening his voice. No doubt she’d suffered abuse beneath Feradach and his men’s hands and worried her husband would look at her with shame.
Having spent time with her husband, knowing the depth of his love for his wife, and being a man of honor, Rónán understood that Tighearnán would never regard his wife with anything but affection. “Go now; we depart at first light.”
She hesitated, then a weak smile touched her mouth. “I thank you.” After hugging Bran one last time, the woman hurried away, disappearing in a swirl of snow as she stepped into the bailey.
The hewn door thudded shut. Rónán shook his head. “Incredible.”
“’Tis bloody amazing. I canna wait until Tighearnán and Órlaith see Máire.” Bran stepped back. “I need to finish ensuring the ship’s supplies have been refilled before we sail in the morning.” With a light step, he departed.
Stephan shook his head. “Never have I seen the like. And I am thankful we arrived in time to save you.”
Somber, Rónán met his gaze. “Which I willnever forget.”
“I believe there was a time or two in our past”—Stephan refilled his goblet, then glanced over—“when you saved my life. ’Tis the way of the Templar to be there forour Brothers.”
“’Tis.” The depth of friendship within the Brotherhood, something for which Rónán was forever thankful. He motioned for the lad to remove his trencher. “Once we reach Wynshire Castle, we are to bring the arms Lord Sionn was to retrieve to King Robert.”
Stephan waited until the servant had removed his food and stepped away. “Which our sovereign explained. I will see you at first light, when we depart.” He stood, headed toward the turret.
Rónán pushed to his feet, ready to see Lathir, damning that in the end he’d leave herwed to another.
* * * *
The lazy crackle of the hearth entwined with the healer’s humming as Lathir settled beside Aíbinn in her hut. Over the years, she’d enjoyed her visits, appreciated the time the elder had taken to explain herbs and the use of them. She smiled as she recognized the dried sage, rosemary, and other plants hanging in neat rows from pegsin the ceiling.
“That should take care of the herbs I will be needing for the next week.” Aíbinn held out a sack of ground powder. “Place a couple of pinches in Lord Craigshyre’s drink.”
“Aye.” Lathir hesitated. “Should he not have opened his eyes by now?”
Eyes dark with regret held hers. “There is nay telling how long ’twill be before he completely awakens. Be thankful he is alert enough that we have been able to coax him to drink wine and broth. They are signs that his body is healing.”
Sage words Lord Torridan, along with the healer, Imag, had said. Lathir took a slow, steadying breath. But how could she be calm when each day that had passed since their return, Kieran laythere unmoving?
Despite her worry over him, she was thankful naught but a touch of swelling and bruises from her father’s imprisonment remained, that her father was recovering quickly, and he now walked without a stick.
“I thank you for changing your betrothed’s bandages,” the healer tsked. “I would be doing it myself, but for the smithy’s wife having gone into labor and with this her first child, I need to be there if naught else, to calm her.” Aíbinn winked. “One day I hope to be tending to you.”
Her and Kieran’s child. She wanted to be pleased, knew when the babe came, she would love their son or daughter, but a part of her was saddened it wouldn’t be Rónán’s.
Heart heavy, Lathir stood. “Where is Lord Torridan’s healer? I would think Imag would want to tend to her lord’s son.”
“She is out gathering more herbs and told me that she would be gone for a good part of the day.” A spark popped in the hearth, faded into the whirl of smoke up the chimney as Aíbinn handed her another sack. “’Tis for your father. He willna admit to still being in pain, but I can see it in his eyes.”
“And you think I can convince him to take anything more? That I talked him into taking anything at allwas a miracle.”
The elder chuckled. “You have a betterchance than I.”
“Mayhap.” En route to the stronghold, sadness swept Lathir as she glanced over the land, searching for any sign of Rónán. Waves rippled on the water. Naught but several ducksflew into view.
“Lathir.”
At Lord Torridan’s voice as she entered the bailey, she looked toward the stable.
The noble said something to the knight at his side, then headed toward her. Fatigue and sadness filled his grayish-green eyes, his worry at his son’s condition taking its toll.
He arched a brow at the herbs in her hand. “For your father?”
She held up the secured pouch. “Only one. The others are for Kieran.”
