Page 4 of The Refuge

She stumbled to a rock near the river and sank onto its hard surface, wrapping her arms tightly around her, holding in the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. In one day she had lost her parents, her home and her people.

Niall joined her, putting his arm around her. She leaned against his chest, drawing comfort from his closeness.

Only a moment passed when Niall stood. “I must help Angus in burying the dead.”

By the time Domnall arrived that afternoon, the fire had died to smoking embers. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she watched his ship sail into the small bay. She had so wanted to see him. What would happen to their betrothal now?

His men jumped over the side and pulled the ship onto the shore. Once the plank was set in place, Domnall crossed to the sand and strode toward her. He had come richly attired for his meeting with her father, a meeting that would never occur.

She hurried forward to meet him, desperate to be surrounded by his strength.

When he reached her, Domnall met her gaze and then looked behind her to the ruins of the hillfort. Finally, he turned toward the water’s edge where her father’s ship had once been anchored. Only a blackened carcass remained.

“A raid?”

“Yea. Northmen.” She yearned for him to hold her, to comfort her, but instead, he took her hand and walked a few steps toward the charred remains of her home, a sight she had no desire to see.

“How did you—?”

“Angus and I were hunting with Kessog and Niall was in the forest or we would have been killed with the others.” She did not tell him she might have been taken with Deidre.

A deep crease formed between his brows. “Cormac?”

She looked toward the new graves. “Dead with my mother.”

Niall and Angus came to join them. The guard was the first to speak. “Milord.”

“Angus, Niall,” Domnall said shortly, acknowledging them. “A terrible day, indeed. I do not suppose the thieves left anything?”

“Nay,” said Angus. “They took all they wanted and burned the rest.”

“They even took my dowry.” She had seen them carry to the longships the chest in which her father kept his gold. “And Mother’s silver goblets. Small things when measured against lives.”

Angus shook his head. “There’s naught to be done now, save to bury the dead and leave this place.” He looked at Domnall. “We could use the help of yer men.”

As if waking from a trance, Domnall blinked. “Certainly.” He gestured his men standing next to his ship to draw close and ordered them to help.

This was not the joyous meeting she had envisioned. Not a betrothal to be celebrated. But at least Domnall was here and alive. And he had not let go of her hand.