His whole body stiffened, awkward, and he drew away before Conn made a move to release him. The chieftain's eyes narrowed just a whisper, but his smile remained fixed on his face. He peered past Niall's shoulder, as if seeking something.
"I can see Declan has won the prize I offered for returning you to me, but tell me, where is this woman you risked so much for?" Conn inquired. "I have waited half my life to give proper greeting to the daughter of Fintan MacShane."
Niall stiffened, uncertain why Conn's words unsettled him so. "Caitlin of the Lilies has endured much in the past weeks. I would not ask her to endure the hardship of yet another journey."
How could Conn fail to miss the edge of accusation in Niall's voice? The chieftain's eyes widened.
"Your... gallantry increases, I see. And toward a woman!" Conn turned his face toward the crowd. "There are those within these walls who remember a vow you took, that you would never be so moved by one of the fairer sex. Surely, all of Glenfluirse is as astonished as your chieftain. Two vows broken by the warrior who swore only honor would ever hold claim to his heart!"
"You summoned only me, or so Declan said."
"Aye, and so I did. If I wished for the lady's presence, I should have commanded it. And, of course, as my champion, my foster son, the man I namedtainist, you would have obeyed your chieftain's order." Conn's brow arched. He expected a reply.
But Niall would not lie. He said nothing, certain only that no power on earth could have made him bring Caitlin here if there was the slightest chance of danger. The silence seemed to stretch out forever, but at last, Conn chuckled, clapping Niall on the shoulder.
"You have journeyed far, and even the boldest champion grows weary. I command you to take a well-deserved rest, my son. Is that not an order you can obey?"
Niall sensed a jagged edge to Conn's words, could scarce blame him for his displeasure. Or was it hurt he saw, buried like an ember in the chieftain's eyes?
Guilt tugged hard. What must it be like for a man who had extended such generosity, risked so much in loving an outcast child, to see suspicion in that foster son's face? Especially after the chieftain had heaped such honors upon Niall's head?
Niall cursed silently, torn between Conn'sfamiliar, much-beloved face and the dragging weight of his father's sword—two loyalties, so divided it seemed as if one man could not contain them both. Two paths that could never cross. Two separate destinies.
Yet, despite Niall's confusion, the chieftain deserved better treatment from his foster son, if only in payment for the kindnesses Conn had shown that lonely young boy.
Shoving his doubts aside, Niall stepped away from his foster father and bowed, paying him homage. Conn himself urged Niall to straighten, the smile beneath the red mustache warm now, almost like the one Niall knew so well. The smile Niall had fought to win time and again as a youth.
"You are my son. My heir," Conn proclaimed, his voice resonating, deep and clear. "No man in all Ireland is more valued by your chieftain than Niall of the Seven Betrayals. When the moon rises seven times from now, I shall grant you the reward you have won, a name of your choosing, cleansed of all blame."
Shouts rose from the crowd. "So long? Why delay?" Niall heard someone cry. "Give him his name at once!"
Conn cast a glance across the mass of his subjects, quieting them. "It will take seven days tobring another guest of honor to our celebration. Fintan's daughter!"
Cheers all but deafened Niall, adoration of the hero all Glenfluirse had loved.
"Aye, Niall," Conn repeated. "Summon Fintan's daughter to me. Caitlin of the Lilies has helped you earn your reward. Let her have her rightful share in your glory."
Niall started to protest then said nothing. He would reason with Conn about Caitlin once they entered his private chambers.
"Does the wench look fertile? I hear she is even more beautiful than her mother, Grainne, was, and Grainne was said to be the most exquisite beauty in all Ireland. Though there was another who could have challenged her for that title in some men's eyes. Scota—so beautiful she bewitched even your father."
Niall stared hard into Conn's face. It was smooth as new cream. So why did Niall feel as if an invisible rope were tightening around his chest?
Conn grinned beneath the impressive mustache, guileless, honest. "I have a motive I have confessed to no one save you," he murmured under his breath. "I am considering easing myeldest son's jealousy by offering him the lady's hand. What do you think, Niall? Is that not wise?"
That cur cannot have her! She is mine!
Protest welled up inside him but Niall crushed it into silence with a warrior's instinct as he felt the intensity of Conn's gaze. Nay, Niall resolved, show no weakness, reveal no vulnerability that could be used against you... or, more terrifying by far, against Caitlin.
"Aye," Conn answered himself in a voice Niall alone could hear. "It seems only fair in view of what my blood heir has lost—the position of chieftain traded for the honor of mingling Fintan's bloodline with my own. What do you think, Niall? Shall Magnus take a bride?"
Niall railed in silence.Give him Glenfluirse and all its power and riches! Let Ireland itself sink into the sea, as long as Caitlin of the Lilies can be my wife.
"I have no right to answer for Fintan's daughter," Niall evaded.
"Why should she object as long as her heart has not been given to some other man?" Conn chuckled. "And there can be no fear of that. Convent-bred from the time she was a suckling babe. I wager you are the first man she has ever seen, save some groveling, toothless priest. Unless thelady has fallen in love with you?" Conn gave a hearty laugh. "Has she, Niall?"
With all his strength of will, Niall shrugged. "What woman would be so unwise as to love the man who almost murdered her?"
