With a grunt, Niall reined the horse away from the shore, still uncertain why he had come there in the first place, let her frolic about the waves. Had he been... kind? Or simply mad? Hadhe wanted this girl to have one beautiful thing before she was whirled into Conn's fortress? For once she arrived there, she would be burdened by her father's greatness as certainly as Niall was burdened by his father's treachery.
Caitlin of the Lilies—the girl-child foretold to bring disaster to the chieftain—saved from death only by Conn's great mercy, his promise to her parents that he would spare her life, find some way to outwit the curse. Was she not already a legend in Glenfluirse? Daughter of the enchanted spear caster, the most loved and honored warrior Glenfluirse had ever known?
Riding to the abbey, Niall had thought little of the woman who was to be in his charge, so consumed by his own irritation was he. Yet now he could feel something like pity for the girl. She had been transformed from a legend, a shadow figure fashioned of whispered words, into someone alive, real to him. Even so, he had never suspected how the encounter with the sea would change her.
He glanced down at Caitlin, feeling as if he had rescued no mere woman from the waves. No convent-raised girl, bred to wear coarse robes, spend her life praying in her tiny stone cage.
Had her plunge into the water turned hershape shifter? Remaking her into a creature stranger than any from otherworld lands beneath the sea?
She radiated delight, eagerness, anticipation, as if they were jeweled wings that lifted her above the drab world below to a star-spun place Niall of the Seven Betrayals would never know.
Joy. Had he ever felt it? Not in the way she did. Nor did he want to, he vowed, as long-forgotten memories of childish laughter and absolute confidence flickered in his mind.
It was dangerous to delight too much, to trust too much in anything beautiful or good. Fate had a nasty habit of snatching it away.
He remembered the abbey, the cluster of nuns praying fervently as he carried Caitlin away. Perhaps the prayers would protect her in the days to come. But their holy appeals seemed almost as meager a weapon as a smile sweet as sun-struck berries, and eyes that dared to shine in a world dark as sin.
He was tempted to warn Caitlin, to say something about the harsh edges of a world she was unprepared for, a world far beyond the abbey gates. But he only clenched his teeth and rode on. What the blazes ailed him? He was a warrior, not some tender-hearted bard. He had seen moreterrible things than an innocent like Caitlin of the Lilies could ever imagine, things far more vile than one young woman's disillusionment.
She was not his responsibility. The instant he turned her over to Conn, he would be quit of her forever. As for the world that awaited this Caitlin of the Lilies, she would discover its flaws soon enough.
Niall would just make certain he was not there to see it.
Flames danced,burning red and orange and blue against the night, the leaves on the towering trees whispering like unquiet spirits above Caitlin's head.
Every muscle in her body ached, her face still stinging from the scrubbing she had given it, washing away the grit from the journey with handfuls of cold water from a stream nearby. She should have been exhausted after the swift pace Niall had set. Besides, hungry though she was, Caitlin was eager to drift away into dreams filled with sea gods and horses made of waves.
But the moment Niall tossed her the coarse homespun bag containing food the sisters hadsent with them from the abbey, all hope of sleep vanished. She drew out the familiar loaf, and even the glorious memory of the sea could not stave off a wave of melancholy.
Caitlin traced her finger in the slight hollows baked into the bread in the shape of the cross, the symbol that had marked every loaf she had ever eaten. Her earliest memories were of standing on a stool in the kitchen, Reverend Mother stealing away from her other duties to help Caitlin's tiny fingers make the holy shape that reminded them where the bread and all good things had come from.
It would be the last time she would taste this bread, the flavor of home. She wished she could save it, yet the man who now sat across the fire from her was already eyeing it like a ravenous wolf.
Swallowing hard, she broke the loaf in two then surrendered half of it to Niall. He devoured most of his portion as if this were to be his last meal, then paused long enough to glance at the bread still cradled in her lap.
"You had better eat." He wiped a crumb away from his chin. "We will have a hard day of riding tomorrow."
"You need not fear. I will not fall from thehorse, I promise. I know you are in great haste to reach—" She paused, a strained laugh bubbling up. "It is so strange. I cannot even remember your chieftain's name, and yet my whole future lies in his hands."
"Conn the Ever Truthful. And the fate of every man or woman within his domain lies in his hands."
"That may be so, but I doubt he summons all his subjects to come before him. No messengers storming up on great horses demanding to carry off the daughters of every household in his lands. Perhaps this would be easier if I had some idea why."
"Why?"
Caitlin crumbled an edge of the crust. "Why me. Why now. I have been at the abbey forever. Why should I suddenly earn his notice?"
Niall took a long swallow of water from the horn cup he'd filled at the stream. "Conn's reasons are simple enough, I would imagine. You are of an age ripe to be wed. Doubtless he has picked a husband for you."
Her eyes widened. Merciful heaven, why had she not thought of that in the time since they had left St. Mary's? In the recesses of her mind, she had always expected to be married, had she not?And yet never had she imagined it in quite this way. She had thought she would have a choice, would fall in love. Even in the abbey, she had heard tales of young women shoved into wedlock against their will. What might it be like to be forever bound to and bedded by a complete stranger?
"But I... I cannot marry now." She stammered a protest. "I do not know anyone to..." She stopped, stared at him, her heart slamming against her ribs. "You do not think that you... and I—that the reason Conn sent you to bring me from St. Mary's was that you are to be my husband?"
Niall choked on the bread, came up sputtering. "Do not be absurd! The chieftain knows I have vowed never to wed." Yet, despite his brave words, he looked as unnerved as she felt.
He grappled with a small leather pouch tied to his waist, something that sounded like vellum crackling inside it beneath his grasp. "There is one way to know," he muttered. Suddenly, he caught sight of her questioning gaze. Reluctantly, he released whatever the pouch held.
"What is in there?" she asked.
