"Aniera, they do not blame you."
"They do not have to. I blame myself."
Caitlin winced, remembering Niall's confession, his shame and pain at his father's violent obsession with another woman. What must that have done to Aniera? The mere thought of Niall in another woman's arms was agony. "It was your husband's sin, not yours." The words escaped before she could stop them. "If he had not gone mad over that other woman—"
"Aye. The other woman. Has Niall told you of her? What little my poor boy knew, that is. What he heard in the fortress of Glenfluirse. Seven Betrayals. They tried to bury my husband beneath their weight, then my son. But I was the one they crushed."
"It would have destroyed any woman to hear that the man she loved lusted after another woman so much he was willing to kill his closest friend to take her by force," Caitlin protested.
"To hear it was painful, aye. Yet why was it so easy for me to believe Ronan could desire her? Perhaps I had always expected Ronan's gaze to wander to other women. What I could never understand was why his favor had fallen on me tobegin with. I was ever quiet, so shy my father despaired of me, wanted to protect me, see me settled somewhere safe." Aniera wrinkled her small nose. "Safe to him meant close by, so that he could keep his fragile hatchling under his wing." It was far too easy for Caitlin to understand the urge to guard Aniera closely. Had not Fiona done it all her young life? And Niall and Caitlin as well from the moment they had entered the door of Castle Daire? Aniera was like the small, winged creature she described, her feathers lovely but so very fragile.
"There were other warriors who asked for my hand in marriage. They hoped to bind themselves to my family, make powerful allies, and some even wanted me for myself. Yet when Ronan dashed into my life with his face so glorious and his smile that broke any woman's heart, I could hardly believe he loved me." She chuckled. "No one could. My sister stalked off to pout, my father was astounded, my mother sure that he would break my heart. It was their doubt that seeped into my heart."
"How could Ronan fail to love you?" Caitlin asked. Aniera rose, took Caitlin's hand, and crossed to where a tree cast a delicate interlacing of shade across the turf. Aniera lowered herself tothe grass, curling her legs beneath her, agile as a young girl. Caitlin followed her to the ground, scarce wondering what Ronan had found so delightful about his young wife.
Her beauty, aye, but there was a restfulness about her despite her fragility, a peace and gentle rejoicing about the miracle of the smallest blade of grass or the shyest of all-but-forgotten flowers. It must have quieted Ronan's restless soul, soothed battle-fevered blood. Taught him to dream.
"I went with him before ten days had passed, knowing I would never see my family again. Knowing they were afraid for me.What do you know about him?My mother tried to reason with me through the night.He is a stranger.But Ronan and I had known each other's heart before time began."
"Then how..." Caitlin hesitated. "If he loved you, how could he even have looked at another woman, let alone murder someone to try to force his way into her bed?"
"It was said every man in Ireland wished to master her in their bed. Scota, her name was, a warrior maiden from Iona, trained in all the arts of battle by her father, a champion who lacked a son. Ireland, too, bred women like Scota, but theyhave grown rarer and rarer over the years. And never has legend captured one as beautiful as Scota of Iona."
"But you were beautiful—are beautiful!" Caitlin objected loyally. "Anyone who gazes into your face can see it."
"I was pretty enough, in my way. Quiet, soft, like a wildflower half hidden beneath a stone. But Scota's was a wild, rare beauty." Aniera closed her eyes, a flicker of pain still shadowing her features after so many years. "A face like the earth goddess, passion for life wild as the sea waves. Her hair shone with the luster of hammered gold, her eyes blue fire that challenged any man to tame her on the field of battle. Even Ronan spoke of her with a special kind of awe."
Caitlin swallowed hard, envisioning all too clearly the woman Aniera described, strength and courage, fire and passion. What man would fail to be dazzled by such a woman? Even Niall would have to be tempted. The thought wrenched at her heart.
"Lorcan, my Ronan's foster brother, won her in marriage. Every woman in Ireland rejoiced. I did, too, in secret, stilling the whispers of doubt in my heart." Aniera pleated a fold in her gown. "If I had only had courage, Caitlin, just the tiniestmeasure of my Fiona’s valor or Niall's, I could have stopped the madness that destroyed my family. But I was weak. Too afraid—"
"You did all that you could. I am certain of it."
"Nay. I had been so foolish. Feared... love is such a strange thing. So strong yet so fragile, like a thread that can be snapped. When Ronan declared his love for me, I could scarce believe such a bold, handsome warrior could desire me for his wife. He could have chosen any woman he wished... just as Scota could have chosen any man."
"But he chose you. Loved you so much he carried the sea into your bedchamber."
A pained smile curved Aniera's lips. "Strange that I did not remember that when we traveled to Glenfluirse to the festival. The Sea Chamber and our loving there seemed so far away.
"I remember standing near the practice yard watching Scota show her skill, the men baiting her, each dare more outrageous than the last. She crowed with delight as she overcame opponent after opponent, leaping about, lithe and wild-hearted as a doe, so lovely no man could take his eyes from her."
Aniera cast her gaze down to the turf, her thick lashes still unable to veil the echoes of oldpain. "I was awkward, heavy, more than a little sick. I knew all the signs I had suffered before with Fiona and with Niall. I carried a new babe. I planned to tell Ronan at the festival, add to his joy."
What would it be like to hold such a joyous secret close to her heart? Caitlin wondered. To wait for the perfect time to tell your beloved that a child would be born out of your passion? She yearned for such a moment with all her heart.
"Fiona was three," Aniera continued, "all smiles and delight on the journey. But once she reached Glenfluirse, it was as if the very air vexed her. A rash spread across her stomach. I remember my poor babe crying, fighting, restless even then, determined not to be comforted. Night after night, I battled the mysterious thing that was making the wee one so miserable. Ronan, he did what little he could to aid me, but he had duties elsewhere. Time after time, he charged off to practice feats of arms with the other men."
"I remember the young novices whispering; they said men were insufferable that way, forever eager to show they surpassed any other warrior in their skills."
"I fear the novices spoke true. At this festival, the men were fighting for their position inConn's army, and no man at the festival had been challenged as many times as Ronan of Daire. Your father was always untouchable as Conn's champion, an honor Ronan never begrudged him. I remember Ronan telling me he was certain that Fintan would trade all his wondrous fairy- kissed power to see his wife's face for just the rising of one sun. And Ronan vowed he would sooner lose his sword arm than ever sacrifice the joy of watching me frolic with one of our babes. Fintan would never even hear his little daughter's laughter, Ronan mourned. Your laughter."
Aniera hugged her slender waist, as if remembering that precious time. "Ronan had his duty to fulfill at Glenfluirse. I knew it was true. I tried to hold on to that. Counted the days until we could leave the brash gaiety and return to the warm embrace of Castle Daire. Then one night, while I struggled to calm Fiona, Niall escaped me, bold wanderer that he was. Ever a warrior's son, he disappeared and, unknown to me, found his way into the armory. I was crazed with worry, searching everywhere for him. Just when I was certain I would run mad, Conn himself came to find me. He returned Niall. The boy I feared would be dead bloomed rosy and laughing,playing with a toy sword belonging to one of the chieftain's sons."
It was all too easy to imagine Niall, intrepid, determined, stubbornly finding his way to where all those delicious swords gleamed. A dark-curled, resolute-chinned outlaw, already issuing challenges to anyone who dared try to deter him.
"Conn was most... kind," Aniera continued, a troubled crease between her brow. "But his eyes snapped with a strange anger. The kind my father and brother had displayed when anyone had treated me carelessly. Conn said..." Even after so many years, she seemed to stumble over the words.
"He said Ronan should be carving a wooden blade for his own son and keeping watch over his own wife instead of wasting every moment trying to best Lorcan's bride on the practice field." Aniera sucked in a shaky breath. "Was that where Ronan had been rushing off to all this time? To another woman's side? I cannot tell you how the question raked me. I did not want to believe it was true, but the seed had been planted. The tiniest flicker of Ronan's eyes toward Scota at the banquet table in the nights that followed became torture. His smiles at her, his jests, were like blades in my heart."
