And yet such misfortune made no sense when brought by the hand of Declan. Plenty of men in the fortress would delight in the prospect of dragging Niall to his death, but Declan? Never!
Still, Niall had to be careful. One misstep, and he could betray them all. "And why is the chieftain so eager for my presence?" he queried with a shrug. "Is there a battle in the offing? A contest to be settled with another chieftain's champion?"
"Nay, man! No merry wars to be fighting, more the pity, but the masses in the fortress will not perish of boredom because of the lack of some contest of arms. Not when all Glenfluirse is waiting to welcome you!" Declan clapped one beefy hand on Niall's shoulder, the warrior's voice cracking with gruff affection. "You triumphed as I always knew you would."
"Triumphed?" Niall repeated, perplexed. "Nay, Declan, I—" He choked into silence. Fool! He had almost betrayed himself. Yet how could he lie to this good and honest man?
"Och, you are thinking you have failed, are you not, my fine lad?" Declan raked back a lock of rain-soaked hair from his forehead. "It is a grave thing to defy a chieftain."
Niall reeled, stunned, trying to reconcile Declan's grin, his open welcome, with the shame Niall was branded with—that of a warrior forsworn. "You know what I did?"
"Every man, woman, and babe in Glenfluirse knows. You surrendered everything you have worked for, dreamed of and fought for, sacrificed it all to save an innocent stranger's life."
Niall squared his shoulders. "Then I am to be executed for my crime against Conn?"
The big man cursed in exasperation. "Blood and thunder, Niall! Can you not hear me?" Declan shouted, flinging his arms wide. "All you have ever wished for—it is yours! The name you earned through your brave deeds. Aye, and rewards greater still. Your questing is over. You are to receive a welcome that would make Cuchulain himself burst with pride!"
Declan cast a glance at the cluster of women, a laugh rumbling from his chest. "Perhaps one of you ladies can help me make this thick-brained fool understand the honor he has won! Which of you is the dove he championed? I want to see with me own eyes the woman who made Niall of the Seven Betrayals forswear his chieftain."
Declan stepped before Aniera, something almost tender in his eyes as he peered into heronce-lovely countenance. "This is a face that could launch a man into war."
Aniera smiled, her cheeks dimpling, her eyes soft. "My Ronan fought a dozen suitors to win my hand in marriage. He always swore he would have battled all of Ireland for just one night in my arms."
No loss clouded her face, the memory more real to her than the steady drumming of the rain. Compassion darkened Declan's eyes with the sorrow Niall's mother had forgotten for so many years.
"Methinks I would have fought for you myself," Declan said softly. "But Ronan of Daire would have defeated me. And yet Niall is an even more skilled warrior than his father was."
Aniera's eyes shone. She reached up, patting Declan's scarred cheek as if he were a dewy-faced boy instead of a man of war. "My son is a good boy, is he not?"
Compassion softened the warrior's eyes then he flashed Niall a mischievous grin. "Aye, madam. The finest of boys."
"You look weary of riding. I shall gather some wild herbs I saw just beyond the path. They will soothe the pain in your scar." Aniera ran her fingertips over the nasty cut. Niall stared, astonishedas Declan. Niall and perhaps Declan's beautiful Eva were the only two who guessed what pain the old wound still caused him when he rode for too long.
Yet Niall could only feel grateful to see his mother wandering toward a bank of bedraggled flowers, beyond the reach of these words that could disturb her peace.
Declan, cheeks crimson, more than a little daunted by the revelation of what he saw as a weakness, turned back toward the two remaining women with feigned heartiness. Pointing to Fiona, he laughed. "You cannot be Niall's damsel in distress. You look as if you would flay alive any man fool enough to try to rescue you."
"Aye!" Fiona snapped. "Do not tempt me to sharpen my blade upon you!"
Abandoning Fiona, Declan reached toward Caitlin's hood. Moved by instinct more feral than he had ever known, Niall knocked the warrior's arm away.
"Do not touch her!" he snapped, grasping his sword hilt.
Declan's eyes rounded, wide as a babe's. "You cannot think I mean to hurt her, Niall!"
The fear seemed absurd as he glared into Declan's face, but was it? "Conn ordered me to killher," Niall ground out. "Why should I trust you will not?"
The tension in Declan melted away. He chuckled then grasped Niall's arm, the decency, the goodness, the honor in this man seeming to ripple out from his palm. "Your lady is safe. I swear it on the life of my own beloved. I am but a crude warrior, awkward when it comes to words. I fear I have made such a muddle of this my sweet Eva will scold me until my ears are blistered when she hears of it. Let me begin again, my friend."
Declan sucked in a steadying breath. "This quest Conn arranged for you was the most difficult and the most clever test of all, Niall. No man in Glenfluirse could deny that you have always had courage in abundance. Aye, and a wealth of honor despite your tainted name. But it takes a great man to open his heart enough to sacrifice for a stranger—to surrender all you fought for, all you held dear, in order to do not what duty demanded but, rather, what was right. Aye, lad, that is the virtue that makes you a hero."
Niall stared into Declan's face, a countenance as scarred as Niall's own heart. Was it possible what Declan said was true? Was self-sacrifice thelesson Conn was hoping to teach him in this last quest?
Niall scowled, anger at the chieftain welling up, churning in an uncomfortable mixture with astonishment and relief. If this ordeal had all been one of the chieftain's cunning schemes, it had been an accursed dangerous gamble to take. One that had nearly cost Caitlin her life.
He shuddered at the memory that would haunt his nightmares forever—that harrowing moment when his sword had loomed over her slender neck, a heartbeat away from cleaving away her life, robbing the world of her incandescent light until the end of time. He had come so close to killing her that night, losing, not only his own soul, but the perfect love the fates had fashioned to save him.
But she was alive, his valiant lady. And safe. By some miracle, safe!
