Chapter 11

Merewyn's incessant chatter was trying Astrid's patience. At first, she'd believed the girl was interesting. She certainly had a great amount of knowledge. Walking into the roundhouse with Merewyn at her side—chatting away—had made Astrid feel less conspicuous about her long absence. Now, hours later, Astrid felt like a prisoner to the girl's mouth. She couldn't seem to get any distance from her. Her only choice was to send her somewhere else.

"Merewyn?"

The auburn-haired lass ceased her talking and turned to her with an expression of anticipation. "What d'ye need me to do for ye, Astrid?"

And just like that, Astrid felt like an unappreciative mistress. Merewyn was trying to please her. Earlier, the smaller children had been stomping all over her last nerves, and Merewyn had helped calm them, telling them in an even tone that their mistress preferred the sweet clover to the bitter dandelions. Settling beside the hearth, Astrid held the mending in her lap. That her fingers refused to stop shaking and her nether regions were more than tender was not Merewyn's fault.

When Merewyn settled on the ground beside her and took the léine with the torn elbow out of her hands, Astrid tried not to sigh in relief.

"Sometimes 'tis difficult to settle down to work." Merewyn paused, a great crease in her forehead as she pulled one thread and then another, trying to work out the mess Astrid had created. "And ye do seem to be having quite a bit of difficulty. D'ye not care for children?"

"I love children."

"Ah, then 'tis all the same feelings causing yer grouchiness."

The woman's perception was a bit too sharp, but her ability with the needle could not be denied.

"Glad I am that ye are well-trained in mending."

Astrid glanced toward the door again. She'd hoped Marcán would follow her in, but there had been no sign of him. All the men were missing. And though many worked the fields, it was more likely the warriors were preparing for another battle. There were men who had escaped Oengus's camp, men they would wish to find and imprison.

"He went to see Diarmuid." Merewyn's voice was so quiet, Astrid wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly.

"Who?"

Merewyn gave her a wide-eyed glance before returning to the mending. "Ye know."

Astrid swallowed. "I do not."

With a huff, Merewyn dropped the material in her lap, glanced around the empty room, and returned Astrid's gaze. "I am a good help to ye, am I not?"

"I have yet to decide—"

"When they tried to search ye out last night, I distracted them. Easy enough to do with yer mother, but Faolán was more difficult."

The confirmation that she had indeed been missed reminded Astrid of Marcán's assurances that they had done nothing wrong. "Ye learn names quickly."

"Out of need. Just as being here was not my choice, being in the clan of Black Oengus was not my choice. If I wish to survive, I must be accommodating, find a use for myself." Merewyn's eyes narrowed as if to see whether Astrid understood her meaning. She definitely did.

Merewyn continued, "And I must learn names quickly and serve my master or mistress well. That means paying attention when things are happening that no one else notices."

"Where I was is of no concern to ye."

"I am concerned only with my mistress and her pleasure." Astrid knew her face showed her surprise at Merewyn's words even though she tried to cover it. The smug smile she received in return increased her fear that this was some sort of threat. There was no question in Astrid's mind that Merewyn knew exactly where she had been and with whom.

"And ye may speak to no one without my bidding ye to do so."

"Of course." Merewyn glanced toward Joan. "Is Joan someone ye would have me speak to? Can she be trusted?"

"Aye, ye may speak with Joan and none other… and not about me."

Three children, winded and wide-eyed, came through the door. Merewyn immediately stopped talking and dropped her eyes to the material again.

"What d'ye here?" Astrid called to the tall boy, his face flushed from exertion.

"We have been sent for Maeve. Niall has been stung again. He cannot catch a breath."

Merewyn's hand halted its work before she resumed stitching.

"Look in the buttery. She's helping put up the foodstuff," Astrid answered.

After the lads left, Astrid sought Merewyn's gaze. "D'ye know something of bee stings?"

Merewyn shrugged and said, "A bit." She looked around but said no more.

Astrid had the distinct impression she was lying. "Now ye were telling me how ye were a good help to me? Aiding a man who may die from a bee sting would indeed be a great help."

She pierced her with a look. "If anyone finds out, they could burn me alive!"

Merewyn must have heard Beibhinn's ranting. And the poor girl had only just arrived! Beibhinn's favorite declaration was that all healers, Seers, and druids should be burned alive. It got just the reaction she sought. Fear and trembling.

Astrid blew a breath before answering. "I will not tell a soul. Ye give me the remedy."

Reaching inside her kirtle, Merewyn withdrew a small vial and handed it to Astrid. "He only needs a small amount mixed in water."

Moments later, Astrid had the cup filled and was racing toward the field. The work on the fields had come to a complete stop and everyone was gathered around young Niall. His father had the lad's head propped on his lap as Niall struggled to breathe. Those standing around looked on with horror. It was a terrible sight to see a man so hearty struck down by such a condition. There was no sign of the old healer.

"Here." Astrid indicated the cup and the man tipped his son's head up.

She knelt beside them and brought the cup to his blue lips. Being careful not to spill any of the liquid, she held it to his mouth. The torturous wheezing caused her hand to shake.

"My thanks," the elder Niall said. "We appreciate ye coming yerself."

Astrid nodded, offering him a hopeful smile. "This will ease the pain."

And she prayed that it would. The liquid trickled in, slowly at first, then more quickly until the cup was empty.

Niall took one deep, shaky breath. He exhaled with a smile, nodding, and the crowd cheered. Niall sat up, his father's hand clasped on his shoulder.

"My thanks," Niall said.

"Mayhap ye need to be inside today?"

Niall stood, ducking his head in embarrassment at all the attention. "Oh, I'll be fine now. My thanks."

Astrid stood there, feeling in the way, as most of the farmers returned to their work. Niall and his father seemed ready to do the same, but they were clearly unsure of the wisdom of walking away from her.

She smiled. "Then best get on with it."

"My thanks." The elder Niall repeated. His son said the same and then they both headed toward the hefty plow sitting unattended. They must have been breaking up the soil, readying it for spring next.

Making her way to the edge of the field, Astrid was surprised to find Faolán standing there, leaning against a shovel and watching her. He was covered with dirt. A shiver passed over her, but she planted a smile on her lips.

"Good day, Faolán," she said, not pausing.

His grip on her arm made her stop.

"What is amiss?" Her heart leapt in her chest at his intent gaze. "Is it Aednat?"

"N-not A-Aednat."

Astrid sighed. "Ye gave me a scare."

He still had not released her arm.

"Then what has happened?"

"Y-ye tell me!"

She glanced around, trying to make sense of what he was asking, then shook her head. "Tell ye what?" She pulled on her arm until he released it. "What is wrong with ye?"

"What i-is it ye gave Niall?"

Astrid glanced across the field. Everyone had returned to their work.

"I gave him what his mother always gives him." Healing plants were of little interest to her. She actually didn't know any of the names, so she couldn't have hoped to answer him.

"They tried that b-before they sent the lads for Maeve." He shook his head, a determined movement. "I-It did not work this time."

She would not reveal where she had gotten the tincture, not after she'd given Merewyn her word. "I do not know what ye want."

"Did ye get i-it from A-Aednat?"

Faolán had spent some time with Aednat, enough to know she was a healer. Agreeing would protect Merewyn, and it certainly wouldn't hurt Aednat.

"She showed me some of her tinctures when she first arrived." Astrid's face heated. She was a terrible liar, something Faolán knew. His gaze never faltered.

"Yer mother will not like that she i-is a healer."

"My mother likes very little."

"She likes Pádraig."

Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

"But she doesn't like M-Marcán," he continued.

Astrid stilled, afraid to even breathe. His mentioning Marcán made no sense unless…

She snorted, feigning a lightheartedness to hide her fear. "And why are ye telling me what I know by now?"

"She w-wants w-what i-is best for her daughter."

"Ye believe she knows what is best for me?"

The sarcasm she felt came through in her tone and his expression shifted to one of surprise.

"So ye no longer plot w-with her?" he asked. "D-deciding h-how best to go a-about finding a man ye should m-marry?"

"Do ye listen at the door, Faolán?"

He tipped his chin. "The two of y-ye h-have never plotted in secret. I-I show an i-interest i-in ye because I-I care. Ye do remember that I-I cared for ye? P-protected ye? With Pádraig?"

"I thanked ye for yer assistance, did I not?"

Faolán heaved a heavy sigh, as if debating how best to proceed. "I-I would take ye a-as my o-own—"

She wasn't quick enough to hide her shocked expression from him, but he offered a small smile. An understanding smile.

"—but I-I do not believe I-I am what yer mother h-has planned for ye. She wants y-ye w-wed to Pádraig."

Astrid dropped her gaze. His words were far too unsettling in their truthfulness.

"What Beibhinn wants is to return to the home of her childhood, return to Meic Murchadha. And she will use her own daughter to do it," she said.

He was quiet for so long, she finally looked at him. Her pulse quickened as he studied her. "I-I w-wonder w-what w-would be best for ye."

"And why would ye do that? Why wonder such things about me?" Irritation was taking hold of her. She pressed her lips flat, not wanting to say anything she'd regret.

"Y-ye w-were missed last night."

Her gaze slammed into his.

"I-I was sent o-out to find ye. Y-yer mother wanted ye a-at her side a-as always. She seemed l-lost without ye."

"I am sorry. I did not know ye were looking for me."

"Oh, I-I found ye just fine."

The sound outside. It had been him at the door. Astrid struggled to take a breath, to stop her heart from racing and her palms from sweating. There was nothing she could say, so she waited. Her eyes on him.

"Y-ye are a good daughter, A-Astrid. Y-ye should remember that," Faolán said. Without another word or a backward look, he headed across the field, following the ring of the embankment topped with stakes. She watched him for a long time.

Astrid was in no hurry to return to Merewyn, who was too perceptive by half. Instead, she followed the trail that led to Diarmuid's stone longhouse. Mayhap this was where she would find Marcán. Excitement rippled across her skin.

The plan to wait until Aednat was recovered and Diarmuid had fewer worries was looking worse and worse. What if she never recovered? Were she and Marcán destined to sneak around forever, hiding their love for one another? Both Merewyn and Faolán had indicated they knew something was amiss. Who would be next?

The sight of the door opening at the stone longhouse caught Astrid's attention. When Diarmuid came out, she felt the acute disappointment all the way to her toes.

"Diarmuid?"

He stopped and waited for her.

"How is Aednat?"

Diarmuid scrubbed his face with both palms, and they began to walk together toward the roundhouse.

"I am beside myself, but Maeve assures me her neck is not broken."

Astrid gasped, and Diarmuid's regret was apparent but, unlike Marcán, who usually sought to comfort her, her brother only became irritated.

"Hold yer tongue. She will recover. I need to believe that," he said.

"As do I." That her own brother did not recognize her concern was no surprise. He often thought the worst of her, lumping her in with their mother, who truly did not care for others. "If ye need someone to sit with her, I am happy to do so."

"I do not. I wish to remain with her, but Marcán has insisted I leave. He is with her now."

Astrid's feet stopped dead and she turned toward the house. Marcán was inside. Her breathing became shallower and she took a step closer. Diarmuid continued on, pausing only when he realized she was no longer beside him.

"What are ye about?" he asked.

Excitement like she'd never experienced gripped her. It took a moment to respond, she was so overcome. "I… would… see her now?"

"No. I prefer she not be disturbed with more than one person at a time."

Deep frustration sliced through her heart. "But… I will be quiet, Diarmuid. I know she is not well."

Diarmuid searched her face, a hand at his hip. "Is aught amiss?"

Yes, Diarmuid. I am in love with Marcán. I want to be with him.

"No. There is naught," she said.

His eyes narrowed.

Mayhap it would be best for her to speak now. There was no guarantee of when Aednat would recover.

Before she could speak, Diarmuid nodded and continued. "Good. Come. Tell me of yer time with Pádraig Meic Murchadha. I need some entertainment."

Entertainment? Had she been the only one ignorant to the man's nature?

They strolled back, Diarmuid stretching his back and rounding his shoulders as he went.

"Pádraig's father took to his bed. 'Twas quite sudden, but the celebrations continued."

She debated how much to tell him, but she suddenly realized he was not taking in her words. Her brother was beyond exhaustion. "Have ye not even had a soak to ease yer battle-weary body? How can ye expect to keep going without taking care of yerself?"

Diarmuid roughed up his hair and laughed. The smell of roasting meat assailed them when they entered the roundhouse.

"Food for now. That will suffice."

Astrid signaled to Joan, who hurried to get him a plate. "I will get ye a bath."

"I am done in, Astrid, but yer attention to my welfare seems unlike ye."

A slap in the face would have hurt less, and the fact that it was true made it sting all the more. "I am concerned for ye, and mayhap I realize better now what ye take on as our leader."

"Our leader? I am not certain I have heard ye refer to me as such before."

She bit her lip, but when his gaze dropped to her lips and narrowed, again searching her face, she clamped her teeth tight. "I spoke with yer wife and I liked her very much. A very special woman. I want the two of ye to be happy. Ye deserve such happiness, brother. Do not begrudge me feeling this way."

"D'ye lie to me when ye say there is naught amiss? Ye do seem… different."

Her breath quickened. Could he actually tell she had been with Marcán?

Our love was never intended to be a secret.

Then why did she feel so guilty? She knew the reason. It was because Marcán was not beside her, reassuring her with his smile and that intent gaze, standing up for her and what they'd shared. It was because Faolán had seen them together. Abruptly she turned.

"I will get ye a bath. Aednat will not want ye stinking when she awakens."

Diarmuid tipped his head and then turned his full attention to the well-soaked trencher Joan had placed before him. Astrid followed the older woman to the fire.

"Can ye get a bath for yer ri?"

"With pleasure." Joan wiped her hands on the ever-present towel at her waist. "Did he say how his bride was faring?"

Her lowered voice had Astrid leaning in closer and answering with the same restraint. "She is not recovered. Prayers would be good."

"Then prayers she shall have. Yer mother says the priest will be here by the new moon as long as there is not an early snow." Joan nodded, retrieving two of the large buckets stored beneath the wall shelf. "Do not look now, but she is coming this way and may be seeking ye out."

Astrid took the woman's advice. Ducking her head, she slipped out through the back door. She did not glance behind her and no one called after her. As she put distance between herself and the roundhouse, she found herself glancing back toward Diarmuid's house. An idea formed even as she made her way to the narrow trail she and her brother had just left. Excitement traipsed along her skin and her face heated.

The whistle of warning, low then high, filled the air. Astrid froze in her tracks and turned back. In the distance, a man jumped to the ground before his horse had come to a complete stop.

"Diarmuid!" she shouted.

Her brother came out of the house, followed by the others, all eager to see what was happening. Field hands and warriors alike converged on the exhausted man, bent over and out of breath.

Astrid approached at a slower pace, joining Merewyn and Joan, who stood together.

"Black Oengus's men," the man finally gasped out. Diarmuid's tension could be felt by all, but he remained silent. "We've found them!"

The man stood, wiping the moisture from his face, and smiled. "We've got them."

Excitement rippled across the throng, sharp like a sword, while Diarmuid gave orders for his warriors to prepare to ride out.

Relief flooded Astrid. Finding the men who had dared to steal the wife of their ri túaithe was a step in the right direction. Mayhap it would improve her brother's spirits enough that she and Marcán could consider approaching him with their betrothal. Ideally, Aednat would be fully recovered.

"Faolán!" Diarmuid grabbed the man's arm. "Go tell Marcán the news."

"I can tell him, Diarmuid." Astrid's eyes rounded with guilt when he shifted his narrowed gaze to her. She did not like keeping such a secret.

"Go then. And stay with her? Please, Astrid?" Diarmuid's desperate concern for his wife came through in his voice.

"Of course I will stay with her, brother." The tears that sprang to her eyes did not go unnoticed and he quickly gave her his back. He never could abide tears.

Heading down the narrow path, Astrid was irritated that she could not break into a full run. Her ankle, though healing, still required a slower gait.

"Marcán!" She called to him when she was close enough, and the sight of him filling the door made her catch her breath.

The look of appreciation on his face was quickly replaced by one of alarm. "What has happened?"

He closed the distance, stopping just short of reaching out to her.

"Is aught amiss?" Marcán glanced around before putting his warm hand to her cheek. "Tell me what has happened." Thumbing a tear away, he added. "Why are ye crying?"

The relief she felt at his concern bolstered her confidence. "They've found the men. Black Oengus's men."

Marcán's expression shut down with the dropping of his hand. "Good. We'll see this finished."

As if forgetting she even existed, he disappeared inside, only to come out with his sword and heavy fur mantle.

"Stay with Aednat," he called over his shoulder without a backward glance.

She watched him silently as he headed down the path she'd just walked, full of excitement at seeing him, her disappointment so keen, it hurt. Astrid walked inside, assailed by the scent of him, and closed her eyes. It was hard to breathe.

"Oh, Astrid!"

Marcán was suddenly behind her, gathering her into a tight embrace before she could fully turn to face him.

"A ghráidh. Forgiveness, please." He spoke the words against her hair, and her heart soared. The sensation of his warm body pressed against her, so strong and comforting, sent all her disappointment from her.

"Always."

"It is new for me to be able to take ye in my arms." A warm hand cupped her face and then he was kissing her, passionately. All too quickly he set her aside. "I must see to my men. Please? Stay here with Aednat."

"I will." She smiled, reassured now, able to watch him go. But he stopped at the door and turned back to her.

"Shall I speak to Diarmuid of our joining when we have seen to these bastards?"

Marcán's expectant expression did not match his wary tone. She considered why that would be. Did he question her desire for him?

"My love, I do not wish to wait, but Diarmuid is so upset."

Aednat's still form was covered with the heavy red squirrel coverlet, tucked in as if to keep out any danger. So small in Diarmuid's big bed.

"And if ye are with child?"

The thought sent a ripple of anticipation through her body.

"We would have some time. I would prefer for our news to be an occasion for celebration."

Marcán's disappointment was obvious, but he nodded his consent and was gone.

The room was dark, a small fire casting long shadows along the roof and walls. She brushed a stray hair from Aednat's face. "Ye need to recover quickly, sister."

No response. Not even a change in her breathing. Astrid glanced to the door before speaking again. "I miss ye even now."