Caitlin smiled. "I have another basket full of heather to sweeten the fresh rushes on the castle floor," she said, struggling to banish memories of nighttime and Niall. "I thought I would start back. Will you come?"
Aniera shook her head, casting a glance at the hollow from which she had come. Her vague eyes shone as if a lover awaited her in the lush grasses. "I will stay awhile with Ronan. We often lingered by this stream."
"Very well," Caitlin agreed. "But you must not tire yourself, lest Niall grow angry with me."
Aniera's laugh, light as fairy bells, tinkled out, rare and sweet. Caitlin wished she could hear so much more of it.
"As if my boy could ever be truly angry with you,cailin." Aniera's whole face sparkled with a teasing light. "You both play at fooling me. You think I am too old to see the way his eyes follow you at every moment."
Caitlin's cheeks burned. It was absurd, her sudden dread that the older woman might sense the illicit pleasures Caitlin and Niall had shared. Caitlin laughed in an effort to make light of it. "How can his eyes follow me every moment when he is gone from dawn to dusk?"
"I am old now. And..." Aniera looked down at the flowers, a shadow of sadness crossing her delicate features. "And my Ronan awaits me inTir naN Og. But I remember love's face."
Caitlin laid her hand upon Aniera's arm, grieving with the woman for a loss still so fresh, a love still so precious. "Of course, you remember Ronan's face," she said gently.
"Aye, I do. I see him each time I look into Niall's eyes. But that is not what I meant. You love my son."
Alarm jolted through Caitlin, mingling with the sweetest pain. "You must not speak of such things to Niall. He—he... has been hurt."
Sweet Lord, Caitlin thought, a flutter of panic in her breast. How could she possibly explain this to Aniera, who eased her own pain and loss in the mist where she had sought refuge since Ronan's death? Being forced to face any scrap of reality might hurt the fragile woman more than Caitlin could guess.
"Aye. He has a hurt, my Niall. But you make his eyes shine, child, the way Ronan's did when he gazed at me."
But when you and Ronan fell in love, he hadnot suffered as Niall has, Caitlin wanted to argue. He had not withstood the betrayal of the father he adored or suffered the scorn that left such hideous scars on Niall's fierce pride. He had not been tormented by the suspicion and self-doubt that made it impossible for Niall to trust anyone—be it his lover or himself.
And as for you, Aniera, Caitlin thought with gloom, you were not condemned by prophecies of disaster, hunted by a chieftain who wished you dead.
But Aniera sensed none of her turmoil. "Before Ronan was taken away, he told me the babes would be safe," she said softly. "He would see to it, no matter what else befell him. They were strong, he said, born of a love stronger even than death." Aniera raised her gaze to Caitlin's, her face so tender. "I am shamed to admit I had begun to doubt him, until I saw Niall look at you. Then I knew it."
"Knew what?" Caitlin asked, her voice trembling with yearning.
"That my Niall is safe from harm at last."
"Nay." Caitlin's voice quavered. "You do not understand. Because of me..." She stopped, unable to continue. How could she tell this woman the impending doom she had brought down onNiall's head, the destruction of all his dreams? How could she admit that because Niall saved her, he would never be safe again?
A lark's song broke the quiet of morning, somehow lonely in its solitary flight. Aniera gazed up at the sky. "I know why you came to us,alannah. Ronan whispered it to me in the night. You have come to teach our son a precious lesson. How it feels not to be alone."
Aniera tucked the white flowers into Caitlin's hair, then turned with a smile and strolled away. Caitlin stared after her, her heart aching.Ronan whispered it to me in the night.The brief flicker of clarity had been no more than an illusion, leaving the older woman more lost than ever in her dream world.
And yet perhaps Caitlin could give one gift to this man who had sacrificed so much for her.
She would show this solitary man what it felt like to have someone waiting with joy and eagerness for his return. That would grant Aniera's wish, would it not? Niall would learn not to be alone.
More satisfied than exhausted,Caitlin pluckedbits of heather from the rush basket she held against one hip and flung the sweet-scented purple flowers upon the fresh rushes covering the floor, bringing inside the scent of the meadow in which she and Niall had first made love.
She had left Aniera dreaming among the flowers, a rare peace in the older woman's eyes, Niall's mother as distracted by the beauty of the blossoms as any winsome child.
The only real hope Caitlin had had for help with the daunting task of cleaning out the flooring of the great hall was Fiona, but the girl had made herself scarcer than her enigmatic brother of late, wandering the hills far into the night, until Caitlin feared for her safety.
Not that the girl appreciated any word of caution. Fiona had scoffed at any warning, claimed she had been wandering the estate alone since she was a babe and was not about to change her habits now.
Fiona's reasoning was sound, Caitlin admitted, and yet there was something in the girl's pointed features that unnerved her more than ever, raking against her ragged nerves. Resolute chin cocked at a reckless angle, the girl pulsed with a raw energy more intense than ever before. Trouble was afoot.
At dawn that very morning, after Niall had left her room, Caitlin had gone in to wake Fiona and discovered the girl's bed had not been slept in. Caitlin had wavered in an agony of indecision until Niall rode out for his day's wandering. Twice she had almost told Niall what mischief the girl had been up to. And yet any mention of Fiona's antics would only drive Niall to distraction with worry while the inevitable scolding that would follow would drive yet another wedge between Niall and his sister.
Unable to bear the thought of making things worse between them, Caitlin had swallowed her unease and condemned herself to an interminable day spent wondering what mischief the child might be embroiled in.
Reaching into the basket on her arm, Caitlin flung yet another handful of heather upon the rush-strewn floor. True, Fiona had returned at long last, but her arrival had done little to ease the knot of tension at the base of Caitlin's neck. The girl was more skittish than a scalded cat.
