“Thank you. I hope it’s a quick storm,” she said.
But Ian didn’t look hopeful as he stared toward the sky, which had completely hidden the midday sun behind angry clouds. The forest had gone from illuminated to dark in a matter of minutes. With his horse secure, Ian plopped beside her, the heat of his body washing over her legs, her arms, on that side.
Rhiannon resisted the urge to scoot closer to soak up more of his warmth. The storm had lowered the temperature, and the missing sun chilled her to the bone. To distract herself, she scanned the forest for any signs of Goosie, who had likely found a similar spot in a hollowed-out tree to ride out the storm.
Too bad she wasn’t small enough to fit into the carved-out space behind her, though part of it did protect her back.
“You and Noah,” she said, referring to his brother who had married her cousin Douglass. “You share a birthday?”
“Aye, with our brother Alistair.”
Triplets? She could hardly imagine three Ians. “A rare feat to have three babes born together. Even rarer for you and your brothers to survive, though I’m sure you already know that.”
“Aye.” He flashed a grin. “And rarer for our ma to have survived and birthed more bairns after.”
Rhiannon gave a slight shake of her head, amazed. “She must have been a very strong woman.”
“The strongest woman I’ve ever known.” Ian’s voice had turned sad.
And she felt that deep longing within herself for a mother. “I wish I’d known my own better. She died when I was very young.”
“Losing them is never easy, but having memories has helped ease the pain. I’m sorry ye dinna have that.”
Rhiannon tightened the blanket around her shoulders. Sadness made her colder than she had been a moment before. “I had hoped when my brother retrieved me from Appleby Castle that he and I might be able to bond over our shared loss, but he refused to talk about them. At least my uncle did share stories with me. And he was so good at telling stories that I was able to imagine my mother through his eyes.”
“Douglass’s father?”
“Aye.” She nodded. “He is like a father to me.”
“When was the last time ye saw him?”
“Not long ago, maybe a year or so. But it might have been forever if you’d not come when you did.” Uncle would have certainly come to Dacre, but with her being locked up in the castle and her brother dead set on selling her to pay his debts, she may not have been there to be rescued.
“Is your brother a gambler?” Ian asked.
Rhiannon bit her lip. “Yes. To be honest, he’s no brother of mine beyond blood. What kind of man would sell his sister to pay a debt?”
“No’ a man.” There was a somberness in his voice that felt as if he had reached out to squeeze her shoulder in a metaphorical show of support.
“Exactly.” She frowned, recalling how, in childhood, whenever she caught a glimpse of him—though the occasion was rare—she was always surprised by how little interest he took in those around him, —especially her. “Adam only cares about Adam.”
“’Tis a shame he’s such an arse, especially to his sister.”
Rhiannon let out a heavy sigh, hoping some of the emotional burden of her brother’s negativity would float away. It did not work. “He was named for our father. But other than stories, I don’t remember our father well either. I can say that he was beloved of his people, and my uncle respected him.”
“And so, your brother fell verra far from the tree, it seems.”
“Aye.” Rhiannon grinned. “Verra.” This word she used in his accent, a teasing lilt to her tone. That did work to shove off some of the emotional heaviness that had taken her chest hostage.
“Ye need to draw out the ‘r’ more, lass. Verr-rr-rr-a, verra.” He repeated the word with a flourish, his hand moving before him in an inverted arc as if that would emphasize the pronunciation.
Rhiannon giggled and repeated the word twice with the same hand flourish. “Like that?”
Ian chuckled, bumping her shoulder with his own. “Aye, well done. Would ye like to learn some more? Perhaps a little Gaelic?”
“Aye, why not?” She straightened up, almost forgetting her missing cat and the uncomfortable chill of the storm. “Have you something better to do? Some place to go?”
Ian chuckled, the sound deep and reverberating. “I do believe we will be stuck here a while longer. What do ye think, George?”
