Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"So the lad who saved ye at the market was Brennan's bastard son." Lachlan grunted as Deirdre told the story. "Forgive me, Deirdre. I should have kent it and intervened when he asked tae speak tae ye alone that day."

"Ye couldnae have kent anythin'," James assured his friend. "Laird Brennan kept his illegitimate boy far from the public eye until after the death of Angus Brennan, and even then, the bastard has only just returned from Europe. Naebody kens what he looks like."

"Ciaran," Deirdre corrected quietly. Exhaustion was still threatening to overwhelm her, but she had denied the offer to rest first and insisted that she'd get the story out of the way tonight. "His name is Ciaran, Ciaran Brennan."

There was a short pause, then Aoife asked in a subdued voice, "Did ye get tae ken him very well? This…Ciaran?"

Deirdre's heart stuttered in her chest. The storm raged outside, the same storm that resided in Ciaran's eyes. He would be the weather personified now, thunder and lightning clashing in his eyes and heart when he realized she was gone. Or…would he not realize? Would he stay away from her room, her cell , as he had done so many nights in a row? Perhaps it would be days before he understood she was gone.

Would he care? Would he be relieved, or in pain? Or would he feel nothing at all?

A headache was forming behind her eyes. It was too much to think of Ciaran now, his kind smile and his lying words. It was too much to consider how he'd held her and stroked her hair, alongside with how he'd locked her in a prison and abandoned her there.

"No," she lied in answer to Aoife's question. "I went tae him as he requested the night after the incident at the market. I intended tae return home, but he…took me. He forced me tae come with him; he bound both me and me horse, so I had tae stay by his side."

It wasn't entirely a lie. Ciaran had bound her that day, though not with any physical object. I could love ye…

Jocelyn leaned forward, a crease on her forehead as she took Deirdre's hand between two of hers. "Did he…use ye?" she asked quietly. "Did he force ye tae give yerself as a woman?"

"No." Deirdre's voice was firmer than she intended, but she needed to be very clear on this point. "He didn't once touch me in any way that would be improper." At least, none that she had objected to. She was happy to portray Ciaran as a kidnapper, a villain even, for it was at least partially true, but she would not put him in the category of the awful men who took women by force.

All three of her sisters breathed sighs of relief, while James and Lachlan pointedly looked elsewhere for a moment.

Perhaps she should tell them the truth—that Ciaran had not forced anything until they reached Brennan Keep. She'd gone willingly, eagerly even, and maybe if she told them that it would help them find a solution to the problem and understand the information she had to share with them. But…

Shame was a strange emotion. It started as a tiny seed in the pit of her stomach, barely noticeable by anyone, not even Deirdre herself. But that seed had grown, nourished by the soil of her regrets, nurtured by the light of the painful truth, its thirst quenched by her tears and the tears her family had shed over her. The plant had grown thick and strong, twisting itself inside her, wrapping itself around her organs and squeezing her heart tight, lodging itself in her throat so that she could barely breathe, never mind speak.

Deirdre couldn't tell them the truth. She feared that the shame would kill her.

"So he took ye to the keep," Blair pressed gently. "And then?"

And so Deirdre told the story, in all of its vividness, skipping over the painful memories of the sweetness Ciaran had shown her and the hope she felt at the sight of him. She told them about her confrontation with Laird Brennan, about her prison room, about the tiniest scraps of information she'd managed to gather. She told them about the kind guard, Rabbie, who had saved her life despite it risking his own.

"Oh!" she gasped. "I almost forgot—James, yer watchtower on the border of the village—there's a lad there, and a healer…"

"Aye, I ken where ye mean," James said, obviously trying to hide his confusion at the apparent sudden subject change.

"When I escaped, Rabbie, the guard, he sent his daughter with me as a companion, tae keep us both safe, but…she got ill, and…" Deirdre's headache was starting to overwhelm her, but she blinked furiously a few times, determined to concentrate. "I left her with the healer there. Marjorie is her name."

James and Blair exchanged a glance, then James nodded to Lachlan. Lachlan said, "I'll go personally with the guard change to the tower tomorrow and fetch yer friend. Don't worry about such things. Finish yer story."

Relief flooded Deirdre at Lachlan's words. At least she'd done something right.

"So ye and this Marjorie and those poor horses rode all this way in a matter of days," Aoife whispered. She looked pale and drawn. "Oh, Deirdre. Ye could have died. In fact, I don't know how ye lived. "

Deirdre looked at her sister and felt her eyes itching, though with tiredness or tears she did not know. "I ruined yer dress," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Aoife looked confused, and now it was Jocelyn's turn to exchange glances with Blair. Blair spoke up gently and said, "Deirdre, me love, ye're not makin' sense. Perhaps it's time ye went tae bed."

"Wait," Deirdre protested, though nothing sounded better at this moment than sinking into her bed at last. "Wait. I need—I need tae tell ye. Brennan is Bram's staunchest ally right now, James. He's fully bought into the idea that we are responsible for Angus's death, and he'll do anythin' that Bram says. And if Bram's got allies this close tae our clan borders…"

"It's only a matter of time now," James agreed grimly. "Aye. I ken. Thank ye for everythin' ye've told us, Deirdre. We ken the danger now more fully, and we're sorry we didn't take yer suspicions more seriously sooner."

"Aye," Lachlan agreed. "I'll put me men on it now, but wee one, it's time ye rested. There's nae more ye can do tonight."

"I…"

"Come on," Blair encouraged, using a familiar maternal voice that pulled Deirdre back through the years to her childhood. "Go tae yer rooms, and the lassies and I will come say goodnight soon."

"I want tae be in the meeting," Deirdre said, her eyes directly on James now. "When ye decide our next move. I want tae—I deserve tae—be there."

Another pause, longer this time, while James locked eyes with Deirdre. It seemed like the whole world was holding its breath until, at last, he nodded. "Soon," he told her. "I promise. But tonight, ye must sleep."

Deirdre considered arguing, but her body felt like an anchor, and if she did not let it rest soon, it would drag her down completely. The last reserves of her energy now depleted, she simply nodded and stood up, leaving her family to talk in low voices as she trailed out of the room.

Gracie was waiting for her, leaning against the wall talking to the guard, Diarmid, but she jumped up straight as Deirdre exited. She moved forward, taking Deirdre lightly by the arm, but her grip tightened a little when Deirdre stumbled.

"God! Ye look like ye havenae slept the whole time ye were away," Gracie exclaimed, supporting Deirdre as they walked through the hall together. Diarmid started to follow, but Gracie waved him away, and the guard returned to his post as the women moved. "Ye must have been through somethin' awful."

Deirdre shook her head. "Tell me about ye," she mumbled. Her throat hurt, her head ached, and she just wanted to sleep—but she knew that if she didn't speak some more, she'd never make it to her rooms. Besides, she'd missed Gracie almost as much as she'd missed her sisters.

Gracie didn't argue, much to Deirdre's joy. Instead, Gracie spoke about all the little things that Deirdre had missed in her time away. She detailed how the children had been getting on, focusing a little on Callum's latest adventures with his new tutor, then turned to castle gossip. Gracie and Lachlan's mother, Maggie, had apparently struck up somewhat of a subtle romance with the stablemaster, Fred.

"Still tryin' tae work out how I feel about that one," Gracie laughed as they turned a corner and she helped Deirdre up a set of stairs. "But honestly, she seems happy, and well, I'm happy too if that's the case."

"And ye?" Deirdre asked quietly.

Gracie turned a pretty pink color. "Well…I've been spendin' some time with Diarmid, actually…"

Deirdre's tiredness abated a little, just enough for her to giggle slightly at her friend's blush. It was such a simple thing, such a pure, sweet moment in a life that felt like it had no simplicity left, that she thanked God for Gracie under her breath. The two friends chatted back and forth about that for the rest of the walk to Deirdre's rooms, both completely avoiding the topic of Deirdre's absence, then entered the room together. Gracie helped Deirdre get ready for bed, then headed out, promising they'd talk more in the morning.

Falling back onto her soft, plush bed was indescribable. Deirdre's every muscle seemed to cry out in joy and comfort, and her body sank into the mattress. She closed her eyes, allowing the tiredness to wash over her.

But sleep didn't come.

She lay there for an hour, staring at the ceiling, begging silently for rest, desperate not to think of anything or, more importantly, any one , but her eyes remained stubbornly open, her brain refusing to quieten down. Just as she was about to despair, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," she called, because she knew who was there. Sure enough, all three of her sisters entered, all in their comfortable night clothes, and moved immediately to sit around her on the bed.

Deirdre felt a glowing warmth as she thought of her childhood, her sisters around her, keeping her safe. How many nights had they passed like this, with only each other for company, knowing that safety and family meant each other?

"I'd hoped ye'd be sleepin'," Blair said, a little sigh with her words. But then her face relaxed into a smile and she admitted, "But I'm a little glad ye're not."

Deirdre didn't tell her she doubted that she'd sleep again for a long, long time. Instead, she just said, "I wanted to talk tae ye. Tae all of ye. I've missed ye so much."

They made small talk for some time, mostly talking about the children and day to day life in the castle as Gracie had done, not once mentioning the war or Bram or Brennan. For just a half hour, they got to just be sisters.

"Well, when Aoife is wed…" Deirdre started, but trailed off as she saw the uncomfortable looks that instantly crossed her sisters' faces. "What?"

Blair and Jocelyn each gave Aoife a pointed look, and for some time nobody said anything at all. Then Aoife sighed and said, "I won't be married. Not tae William McLeod. I called off the betrothal; he'll be here in a few days and it'll be official."

Shock rippled across the surface of Deirdre's skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. "What? But, Aoife…why would you do that? Ye were so excited, and…" She trailed off, and her shock was replaced by a suspicious horror. "It's not…ye didn't do it because of me, did ye? Because I'm back now, and I'm safe, so ye don't have tae?—"

Aoife laughed, though there was a tinge of sadness to it, and took Deirdre's hands in her own. "Don't fret, ye silly bean," she told her sister affectionately. "It wasn't because of—" She stopped, then seemed to correct herself. "It was because of ye, but not in the way ye're thinkin'."

Deirdre saw Blair and Jocelyn shift in their seats. Both were obviously very interested in what Aoife might say.

"I did it because…because ye had yer freedom taken from ye, Deirdre. Ye who has always valued it more than anythin' else. And I realized, how would it be fair to marry a man whom I couldn't love?"

"Ye always said that ye did love him, or would soon enough," Deirdre replied quietly.

"Aye. And I believed that true," Aoife agreed. "But that was before. Before I kent the warmth that I'd feel under the smile of a good man, or what it meant tae have someone I could turn tae for comfort in the darkest of times."

She's in love, Deirdre realized. Truly in love.

A strange, intense mix of contradictory emotions threatened to topple off her. Part of her was overwhelmingly happy for her sister, thrilled she'd found it—but another part was in intense sorrow, knowing what she herself had lost.

"And before," Aoife went on, "I didnae have ye tae council me. Tae keep me on the right track. Deirdre, me love, I've been a beast tae ye these years. Will ye forgive me? Only in losin' ye did I realize how much I needed ye, and I never want tae risk such a thing again."

Deirdre leaned forward and embraced her sister, bringing her into a tight hug and whispering in her ear, "I thought I'd lost ye. We were both bein' idiots. Let's never do it again."

The conversation went on for a while, and then it was Jocelyn's turn for a revelation.

"I saw the wise-woman," Jocelyn told them, and all eyes turned to her. "I feared…she told me ye'd be food for the birds, Deirdre. I feared I'd never see ye again."

Deirdre stared at her, suddenly shaken. Her dreams rushed into her mind, wolves and crows and monsters, and she shivered. Had Agatha seen what she had? Could it be, then, that they'd been not dreams, but prophetic sight, just as her sisters had briefly experienced in the past? Surely not, surely not, and yet…

"What did she say exactly, Jocelyn?" she whispered.

Jocelyn's voice took on an unconsciously deeper tone as she solemnly repeated, "Without great care, the lone wolf will be carrion for the crow."

The four sisters sat in silence for a moment, then Blair said, with a little less than her usual certainty, "But ye're here now. The vision didn't come tae pass."

Deirdre nodded, though disquiet filled her. Who said it was over? Nothing had changed, not really. Sure, she had escaped, and managed to help Rabbie's daughter flee as well—but what about Rabbie and his family? What would Ciaran do when he found her gone? And what would Laird Brennan do? Surely the Laird would not simply let her go.

"Bram is comin'," Deirdre whispered. "With Brennan at his side, and others as well. There's still time."

"There's always still time," Blair replied firmly, "But not for disaster. Time tae live. Time tae thrive. Time tae give me bairns and Jocelyn's—and one day yers, and Aoife's as well—a world where they can be free. We will win, Deirdre. We must."

"How can ye be so sure of that?" Deirdre asked, despondent. "How can ye be certain this isn't all for nothin'?"

Blair glanced around her sisters. Then she took one of Deirdre's hands in hers, and Jocelyn's in the other. Jocelyn took Aoife's hand, and Aoife took Deirdre's other, and the four of them sat like that, joined together in a protective circle.

"I ken we'll win," Blair told her, "Because we must. Because when we're together, who could stop us?"

Deirdre smiled at that, and her sisters seemed heartened. She maintained the smile for the rest of the conversation, even part of her allowing herself to believe that it was true.

A while later, though, when her sisters bid her goodnight and promised to see her in the morning, she watched them go with a sad, heavy certainty in her heart. Her sisters didn't know, couldn't know, the whole truth of the matter, but she did. There was no way for them to win this as things stood, no way at all unless they did something that would wreck the fragile perfect world she'd only just returned to.

Deirdre lay back on her pillow, knowing that there wasn't even any point in hoping for sleep but closing her eyes and beckoning it to her anyway. It was a mistake. The second her eyes shut, a face swam before them, dark haired and stormy-eyed, watching her from afar, with a silver tongue filled with lies.

Ciaran. She'd fallen in love with him, she knew that now, and she was disgusted with herself. She should have despised him when she realized what he was, the moment he'd revealed his true nature and had her locked away. But their talks, his raw honesty, the way he'd truly seemed to care for her…her foolish heart had fallen for it all, and now he was lodged within it, there to stay despite it all.

The tears came, and she didn't try to stop them. She kept her eyes closed, hating herself as she wished that he was here now, holding her again and stroking her hair as he had that night, giving her the illusion of freedom and love.

Freedom, she now realized, she'd never have again. And the worst part of it all was it was a freedom she had to willingly walk away from, her eyes—at last—fully open.