Jealousy? Was that what she was feeling? She had no doubt other women had seen Niall's handsomeness, and now that he was namedtainist,power and strength and honor would be an elixir few could resist.
Yet in spite of all the temptations that must have been dangled before him, all the women eager to bed the champion of Glenfluirse, Niall had never cared for a woman before her. He had told her that, not only with his lips, which never lied, but with his body—their lovemaking something as new as the dawn of time.
Why then this gnawing dread? Did she fear that once he returned to Glenfluirse, he would change his mind about returning to Daire, wish to remain at the fortress where he had earned such honor? Being lauded as a hero and named astainist, was a temptation to power few could resist. Or did she fear something even simpler than a deadly betrayal? If Niall becametainist,their dreams of Daire as home could not come to be. The heir to Conn's lands would face heavy responsibilities. Niall would have to remain at the chieftain's disposal.
The chieftain. Caitlin shuddered. The man who had ordered her death, whether in a wager or no. The man who had put her and Niall through torture unimaginable these past weeks.
She winced at the memory of Niall when Declan had found them along the rain-drenched road. Niall had looked so earnest, wanting to believe in the man who had been like a father to him.
He had sought desperately for some way to excuse the chieftain for what he had done, and even now, days later, Niall's description of Conn still haunted her:A man who knew me better than I knew myself. Knew you were never in danger.
Caitlin shivered. Could the answer be so simple? So many things in this whole situation did not make sense. The destruction of Daire, Fiona so fiercely honest, claiming Conn's men raided here. It was possible Fiona's imagination had been fired by her hatred of the man she blamed for her father's death and the destruction of her family.
It was also possible that Niall had been right as well when he claimed the warriors could have struck without Conn's knowledge, disguising their perfidy from the chieftain, Niall's own indifference to his former homethe shield they could hide their vile acts behind.
But whatever the truth about that might prove to be, there was one question Caitlin could not answer. How could she ever trust this chieftain?
Conn had announced to all of Glenfluirse that Niall was a hero. He had rained honors down on his foster son's head. Such a public display made it impossible for the chieftain to betray Niall yet again, did it not? So why did she feel this creeping sense of disaster? Nights tossed on the sharp blades of terrifying dreams, days racked with confusion, desperate bargaining with the fates?
Unable to bear being alone any longer, she abandoned her task and walked out to the garden. Aniera knelt among the growing things as she had so often in the time since Niall rode away. But his mother no longer aimlessly gathered flowers. Rather, she worked with purpose in her hands, a fresh clarity to her eyes.
Caitlin grimaced, suddenly aware that anything she confided would only worry Niall's mother as well. Resigning herself to more pointless prattle, she knelt down beside the older woman, aiding her in thinning some of the tiny sprouts. Not that her heroic efforts mattered.
After a few moments passed, Aniera leveledher with a probing, tender glance. "And so it begins for you, my poor treasure," Aniera said, casting her a sympathetic smile. "I pity you. Aye, and envy you with all my heart."
"I do not understand. Because of what?"
"The waiting. It is the lot of any woman who dares to love a warrior. Off they dash into battle, so eager, so determined to do brave deeds, they scarce glance back no matter how much they love you. A kiss, a vow of devotion, and we are left to fight something far more treacherous than a sword or a spear. Uncertainty. Loneliness. Helplessness."
Aniera sighed, peering out into the empty blue of the sky. "We watch them die a thousand times in our dreams. They scream our names as they wade through rivers of blood, but we cannot reach them. Then we awaken to the silence, rise from our solitary beds, and tend the babes, work in the garden, stitch by the fire, never letting anyone guess we are dying inside without them."
Tears sprang to Caitlin's eyes, the hard lump that never seemed to leave her throat choking her. "I cannot bear it, not knowing what could befall him. He is such an honorable man, he cannot fathom dishonor in anyone else."
"He is his father's son."
"His father is dead!" Caitlin cried, all the fear, all the frustration and fury, bursting free so suddenly it stunned her. "I do not want Niall to follow in his path!" She stopped in horror, pressing her hand to her mouth. "Aniera, forgive me. I did not mean to—"
Niall's mother rocked back onto her heels, her hands gripping the feathery shoot she had just plucked from the ground. She stared down at the delicate stem, broken as she had been for so long. Her eyes flooded with pain.
"You think I do not know that my Ronan is dead?" she asked after a long moment. "My bed is empty. My body still aches for him, even after so many years."
"But you—" Caitlin hesitated, too appalled at blunders she had already made to risk another one.
"Act as if he is still with me?" Aniera finished for her. "I wander the hills with him, talk to him, sometimes laugh or cry with him, it is true. Not in imaginings, Caitlin, but because we were so much a part of each other. My Ronan does not revel with the other heroes in the realm ofTir naN Og. He lives now in my heart."
How could a man inspire such devotion whenhe had broken his wife's heart? "You loved him very much."
"Perhaps too much." Shame colored Aniera's faintly lined cheeks. "Ronan is dead, but his son and his daughter are alive. What have I done for my poor babes?"
"Loved them," Caitlin affirmed, wistful, trying to imagine her own mother's face, arms that must have held her with such desperate love before the beautiful Grainne surrendered her tiny daughter forever. "I never had a mother."
"And you think my babes did?" Aniera gave a brittle laugh. "I abandoned my son to the man who murdered his father. And as for my daughter, I cast my responsibilities onto her shoulders when she was so very small. I closed my eyes and my heart to anything save holding tight to Ronan, yet he was already gone. It was only when Niall returned, when you blew into the castle like the sweetest breath of spring, that I started to awaken."
She smiled, soft, sad. "Sometimes I wish I never had," Aniera said. "Then I would not have been forced to see what I have done."
"But Fiona loves you with all her heart," Caitlin protested. "Niall as well."
"That is the miracle of children. They love you whether you deserve it or no."
