"I will take all three of you north to Mother's people. Whatever happens next, Fiona and my mother will be far from Daire when Conn's men return here."
"Will we remain there as well?"
Niall gave a bitter laugh. "You think Conn's warriors cannot ride north? I have thought about it every night since I betrayed my chieftain. I will take you across the sea to Iona, find a place for you there, safe, well hidden. Make certain you will be cared for."
The beginnings of a smile curved her lips, so tender, so trusting, it twisted like a dagger in Niall's heart. "Conn will not find us there," she agreed, agonizingly certain he could keep her safe.
"I will not remain in Iona." Niall's hands curled into fists.
"Oh, I—I see," Caitlin said softly. Disappointmentshadowed her face, and Niall felt a quick, hot terror at how much it affected him. What had the woman thought when he had kissed her? That they had sealed some sort of lovers' vow?
"I will return to Ireland, go before my chieftain," Niall bit out, wanting to drag a shield between him and this soft-eyed woman. "I will make certain he believes you are dead."
Hope sparked in those fairy-blue eyes, eyes that could still dream of happily-ever-after, no matter how much ugliness they had seen. "Then you will be able to gather up the threads of your old life. Go on as before."
"Do you think I could do that? Look every day into my chieftain's face, knowing I had lied?" How long would it take before his own conscience betrayed him? Before Conn looked into his face, realized the truth? For an instant, he imagined kneeling before Conn, confessing his betrayal, facing whatever retribution would await him. There was a cold, clean comfort in it—retribution in a warrior's realm, far from Caitlin's world of compassion and courage, from braving emotions far more dangerous than any executioner's sword.
"Niall, what will you do?" Caitlin's voice trembled.
"I will refuse the honorable name Conn offers, refuse any reward. I will leave Glenfluirse forever."
"Exile yourself? But where will you go?"
Niall squared his shoulders, looked out the arrow slit, to the world beyond he could barely see. "It does not matter. No matter how far I wander, I will never escape the truth. I am forsworn."
Words sprang to Caitlin's lips, words of comfort, words defending him for the mercy he had shown her. Words about honor, the real meaning of courage—what it meant to be a true hero, not some imaginary perfect figure, without breath or life or flaws to be overcome, one who risked everything to save someone innocent.
Instead of speaking, she stood in his shadow, silent, her heart aching. Nothing she could say to this man would ever take away the burning wound of broken vows, of lies from lips that had only spoken truth, of betraying not only his chieftain but everything Niall had fought so hard to believe about himself.
Tears stung Caitlin's eyes. The vision of this brave, generous man wandering the world alone was more than she could bear.
He had sacrificed the only world he had ever known for her. The least she could do was makecertain Niall had a life to come back to once this ordeal was over. She would breathe life into Castle Daire, bind the wounds tearing apart his family. She would leave him a gift in exchange for all he had sacrificed for her. A home, and someone to love him when this last bitter quest was done.
Chapter 11
Caitlin thrust a breeze-blown curl away from her cheek with the back of one dirt-smudged hand, scarce noticing the sting of the tiny cuts and blisters that had appeared after so many hours' work. Satisfaction warmed her far more than the sunshine that slanted over the rear wall of the castle to throw a yellow-gold mantle over her aching shoulders.
She had spent half the night before staring into the darkness, trying to think how she should begin to keep her vow, awaken the slumbering Castle Daire from its dark spell of hostility and neglect. The task had seemed too insurmountable for even the most determined young woman to conquer.
She had plotted and planned and prayed, discarding one strategy after another, until she heard the tender echo of Reverend Mother's voice.A garden, Caitlin. A garden is God's promise of a future waiting to be born.
That promise had driven her from her bed filled with purpose. The instant Niall rode out on another hunt, she had attacked the godforsaken plot of ground that had once grown food for Castle Daire, delighting in the familiar cling of rich, damp earth on her hands, savoring the memory of sweet summer days at the abbey. Hours she had spent in the gardens there, building fairy forts out of pebbles and sucking on sweet stems of herbs to learn the secrets of their healing power.
As the warmth of earth and sky penetrated Caitlin's raw heart, the misery of the past week melted away, leaving in its place a fragile whisper of the contentment she had doubted she would ever feel again.
It was true, what the abbess had said, Caitlin thought, tucking rich earth around the roots of a clump of rosemary. A garden was life. Once Niall saw things growing, perhaps he would feel the tug of his own roots in Daire's soil and realize hecould not abandon this place any more than Fiona or his mother could.
Of course, Caitlin thought with a wry grin, it was probably a good thing he was off riding somewhere at the moment. One look at the forest of weeds yet to pull, and the champion of Glenfluirse might turn and flee the other way.
Her smile died. He was doing his best to be quit of the castle as swiftly as possible. It would take a miracle to keep him at Daire, no matter what magic she managed to work in this tiny bit of ground. She struggled against a wave of sadness. In the end, it would be Niall's choice whether he turned his back on his home and family or whether he realized what a treasure he had nearly lost before it was too late. All she could do was try her best to make things right.
She strained to feel some sense of triumph as she uncovered another clump of parsnips run wild across the garden, the delicious roots all but buried by weeds. With the meat Niall had provided, there would be a savory meal tonight. But she could not help wondering if he would even notice.
A long, thin shadow moved across her, and she jumped, guilty as a child caught in some mischief. She looked up to find Fiona scowling downat her, arms folded across her narrow chest. In that instant, the girl had never looked more like her difficult brother.
"You are bloodying your fingers to no purpose." The girl made a face. "That ground has grown nothing but weeds for as long as I can remember."
Caitlin felt sympathy for the girl, so uncomfortable in her own skin, stubbornly determined not to show tenderness or fear. "But you are wrong," Caitlin challenged. "Look at this." She closed her hand around the green spears of leaves then pulled up a crisp, white root. She brushed it off with her hand. "Take a bite."
