Chapter 12

The days passed at a very slow pace. Astrid had taken to spending her afternoons with Aednat, who showed no signs of improvement. It was exhausting. Beibhinn had come to visit Aednat a few minutes each day, blissfully ignorant about her being a healer, and more than impressed she was the cousin to their powerful ri túath, Sean.

Thankfully, there had been little opportunity to further discuss Astrid's encounter with Pádraig. Beibhinn assumed it had been wonderful, and Astrid did not feel inclined to argue that fact, especially since it would lead to a much more intense argument. Faolán had taken to watching her from the shadows but not approaching her. She could feel his censure. Probably because despite Marcán's assurances they'd done nothing wrong, the lack of a betrothal seemed to indicate otherwise.

Word of the men's return was a boon to Astrid's dark thoughts. Dressed in a floor-length dark-blue léine with red and green embroidery along the hem and sleeves, Astrid wanted to look her best for Marcán's return. Surely now all would move forward as it should.

Faolán stood when she entered Diarmuid's longhouse, but there was no smile for her.

"How is she today?" Astrid shrugged off his sober expression.

"She i-is the same." His eyes bore into her. "A-and ye, A-Astrid? H-how are ye to-today?"

"I am relieved that the men return today. Aednat will certainly take a turn for the better now that her husband will again be by her side."

But Aednat still had not stirred, so there would be very little in way of celebration. Astrid took Aednat's hand, small and cold, ignoring the fact that Faolán continued to watch her.

"Ye can go now. I will remain here with her."

He didn't respond. Pointedly ignoring him, she held a small drinking vessel to Aednat's lips. Pleased she was able to get some fluids into her, Astrid struggled not to give Faolán any attention.

"D-do ye know what ye w-will do now that h-he has r-returned?"

Astrid debated feigning ignorance. Mayhap even questioning him about what he thought he'd seen. But why give him the satisfaction?

"Celebrating anyone's homecoming will have to wait until Aednat is returned to good health."

"Y-ye believe he w-will take y-ye to w-wife?"

She wasn't quick enough to stop the gasp from escaping or her shocked gaze from turning to him. He stood there with a dark expression, his arms about his chest.

"Y-ye are not the first," he said. "A-and ye'll not b-be the last."

"How ye overstep yerself!" Astrid stood on trembling legs. "Ye know nothing!"

"I-I care for y-ye."

"Then leave! I want ye gone." She pointed at the door but he didn't budge. "Now!"

Her screeching voice echoed against the stone walls and tears filled her eyes.

Faolán finally dropped his arms, his shoulders relaxing. "Whether y-ye believe me o-or not, I-I have o-only ever a-acted i-in yer best i-interest. R-remember that."

When he turned and finally left, Astrid was overcome with a sense of doom. Something in Faolán's features. Determination? Resignation? He of all people should understand how close she'd come to having a man force himself on her. He of all people should realize it was better for her to give herself to a man who loved her than to be taken by one who did not.

Astrid hated the woman she became when she lost control, so like her mother. Her voice growing louder and louder. Deep down she knew it came from her sense of having no control over anything.

"I am sorry for yelling, sister." Astrid took Aednat's hand again. "We have much to discuss. Plans to make. Celebrations."

She glanced around the empty room before kneeling beside the bed, her face close to Aednat's. Her voice a whisper. "I have found the love of my life."

Even saying the words thrilled her and she smiled. It would not be long now before everyone knew.

"A better man does not exist. Well, ye may believe there does since ye are married to my brother, and he is indeed a good man. But no. Not like this man."

Their decision to wait until Aednat was better made their time together seem more like a dream than reality. She felt a powerful need to speak about it. Approaching Diarmuid with the news was the first step toward making it true. As king of their clan, he had the right to deny the joining, but she could not believe he would do such a thing.

"A wonderful man. Very brave. And handsome!" She looked at Aednat. "I should not tease ye. I have not even told ye his name." Astrid glanced around again. She was being more than silly. "'Tis Marcán."

Having said the word outside of her head was refreshing. She settled against the wall, bending her knees up to support her arms. "I did not even know how much I cared for him. He always seemed more of a nuisance, but…" Memories flashed through her mind like the lights dancing across the sky in winter. "…I see now how much he has always loved me. I realize he is the only man for me."

She lowered her forehead to her knees and felt again the heat of his hands sliding along her skin, the twinkle in his eyes when he smiled down at her, the gentle touch of his lips against hers.

"Astrid?"

Startled, Astrid dropped her arms. She must have fallen asleep. Diarmuid stood there in his mail, covered with mud and spattered with blood. He reached a hand toward her. Marcán stood behind him, his expression expectant.

"Ye have returned!" She sounded out of breath as she stood to greet them. Hugging first her brother and then Marcán, who held her tight. "Praise God."

"How is she?" The first words out of Diarmuid's mouth were not a surprise, his eyes staying on Aednat.

"There is no change," Astrid said, her tone more wistful than she'd intended.

"Did something happen?"

"I believe there may be a change now that ye have returned. She loves ye," she said. Marcán held Astrid's hand in his tight grip, hiding it behind her back. "She would not leave ye alone like this."

Her brother turned to her with a surprised expression, no doubt at her sentiment, but she averted her gaze, afraid he would see the new love spilling out of her.

Instead, Diarmuid smiled, glancing between the two of them. "I agree." Settling beside his wife, he brushed an imaginary strand of hair from her face, his loving gaze taking in every aspect of her. "And how is my sweet Aednat?"

His voice dropped to an intimate level, and Astrid's heart tightened with pain for her brother. She was suddenly awash with guilt at her own happiness.

"But certainly she is healing on the inside," she said. She wanted to encourage him. "Eating both broth and wine, she will return to health soon."

Marcán squeezed her hand, but she did not turn to him. His breath was loud in her ear, her entire body attuned to him. When Diarmuid sighed in resignation, she became overwhelmed with shame and moved away from Marcán, forcing him to release her hand.

"I am sorry, Diarmuid. Certainly her recovery will come to pass very soon," she said.

His breathing deepened. "Call for Maeve." He bellowed the words. "I will have answers!"

Astrid cringed as each of his words grew louder than the last. He was letting loose his anger, and she couldn't jump to do his bidding fast enough. "I will send her to ye."

"I will return as well," Marcán added, seemingly unaffected by the look Diarmuid turned on him.

Astrid's guilt was too much. She should have come to Diarmuid first. As soon as she and Marcán had awoken from their night of passion, they should have come right to see him. Even now, they would be betrothed.

Once outside, Marcán called after her when she kept going. "Astrid! Wait!"

She finally stopped, nibbling at her lower lip.

Closing the distance between them, he took her in his arms and kissed her. His lips so warm and sweet, the heady feelings returned to assault her senses. The stench of battle hit her and she couldn't stop herself from turning away, the back of her hand shielding her nose.

Releasing her, he offered a sheepish smile. "Forgiveness, I beg. I needed to feel ye in my arms again."

"Ye need a bath!"

"And would ye be seeing to it?"

She tried to smile and glanced around to see who was nearby. There was no one.

Marcán frowned. "Is aught a miss?"

"There is naught. I—"

"Then let us go to him now!" His eyes widening in excitement, he took her arm, pulling her with him. "Come, we will ask Diarmuid's blessing on our union and be apart no longer."

"He is near broken. Can ye not see that? I could never seek my own happiness while he pines away beside his wife."

Marcán's expression shifted, a frown marring his brow.

"Astrid," Marcán said, his finger caressing her palm, where he held her hand in his own. "I have been beside yer brother all this time. I have seen his pain, and it truly runs deep… but would he not want us to have our happiness? I believe it could comfort him to see ye content."

A rustling from the trail ahead had Astrid jerking away from Marcán. Met by his steady gaze, she could guess her reaction disappointed him. Mayhap he even believed she had forgotten his earlier words. She had not, but her courage had left her. The decision to wait demanded they keep their relationship a secret, and she did not like secrets. Faolán's cryptic words had only increased her trepidation.

Maeve halted when she spotted them on the path, turning to one and then the other. "Astrid. Oh, Marcán! Yer men are looking for ye. There is some trouble with the hostages."

"My thanks."

Marcán paused, his fierce demeanor back in place. Always ready for battle. In command of all about him. But he showed no sign of leaving.

"Maeve," Astrid turned to the woman, "Diarmuid requires yer presence. Please go to him, but be forewarned, he is beside himself with grief."

"He'll be venting his anger at me?"

"I fear that is so, but do not take it to heart."

"If I had an answer for the man, I would give it to him." Her basket hanging from her wrist, the healer quickly continued to the longhouse. Neither moved as they watched her go inside.

"I should return to them," Astrid said.

When Marcán turned his suddenly warm gaze back to her, the breath in her entire body stilled. She read his desire there and her body responded.

"Are ye certain, grádh?"

With a tightness in her chest, she said, "I will not keep ye from yer duties. See to the hostages. We will speak later."

His eyes darkened. "I want to do more than speak."

He took her hand again in a light hold, his eyes never releasing hers, and kissed her palm. Her wrist. The bend of her fingers. "I wait on ye to decide when to speak to yer brother, but I will not wait forever."

Dipping his head, Marcán rushed past her toward the roundhouse.

* * *

Astrid felt better since having heard Maeve tell Diarmuid that Aednat's body was sound, and there was no reason she should not awaken soon. Where Astrid had found relief, Diarmuid had found more reasons to rail against the healer. She and Astrid had quickly made their exit, leaving Diarmuid alone once again with his unresponsive wife.

"If I knew what ailed his bride, I would heal it." Maeve's concern for her ri came through in her tone. "To my mind, she is merely restoring herself from the entire ordeal."

"And ye shared that with him?" Astrid asked.

Maeve snorted, "Yer brother hears only what he wants to hear. Since I could not say why she remains asleep, he preferred to get angry and dismiss me from his very presence."

Concerned for the old woman's feelings, Astrid was relieved when she grinned and added, "I know yer brother well enough to know when he blusters. I may fear his wrath as I do God's wrath, but I know his heart is kind."

When the two of them arrived at the roundhouse, people were still milling around to greet the warriors. Some of the men had been wounded in the fighting. A few moaned as they were carried past to follow Maeve.

Astrid stopped one of the men. "Was the battle that fierce?"

"More than we had expected."

The sight of Pádraig alongside her mother, standing outside the open door, had Astrid backing away, but she was too late. Pádraig spotted her and left Beibhinn to cross to her, fighting the crowd headed toward the wounded men.

"Astrid! Where have ye been hiding all day?"

"She's been in prayer for the warriors!" Merewyn came out from behind him, continuing toward Astrid with those swaying hips.

That Pádraig stopped to enjoy the view did not surprise Astrid. Nor did the sight of him pressing down the front of his léine as his body reacted to the blatant invitation. He was like an animal always looking to rut.

"Pádraig! What are ye here?" Astrid used her sternest tone. Merewyn came to stand alongside her in a show of support.

"Ah, sweet Astrid!" His eyes rounded as if her biting words had wounded him. "The very reason I came here today was to spend time with ye so that we may get to know each other better."

She knew exactly what he meant by getting to know each other. How would he feel when he realized she'd given herself to another man? A better man? And quite willingly?

"Astrid has much to see to now that the warriors have returned." Merewyn's words were an admirable attempt to protect her. Reminded of her earlier claims, Astrid had to agree that the girl was indeed helpful.

Pádraig did not see it that way. His lips flattened into a thin line. He took a step closer, his gaze settling somewhere near Merewyn's breasts. "Ye do not speak to me unless I give ye leave to do so. Ye may nod if ye understand."

Astrid's gut clenched, and she interceded before her proud slave was belittled further. "If I have any need of ye, Merewyn, I will find ye. Now go."

Merewyn turned to her, placing a hand on her arm. "Forgiveness, please. I had mistaken him for a nobleman who would understand the demands on the king's sister. I am set right."

His eyes narrowed, his jaw grinding, but he said no more, merely watching as Merewyn stomped back to the longhouse. Catching sight of Marcán, Astrid's heart soared. She lowered her gaze, but Pádraig had not missed her expression. He frowned and searched behind him before turning back to her with a knowing look.

"Diarmuid's lackey? Is that where yer interest lies now?"

Astrid's breath quivered in her chest, but she pushed against her fear.

"What are ye here? The truth, if ye please. We know each other as well as we need to."

He wrapped his arms about his chest and frowned. "Ye believe this is so?"

"I am certain of it." Her clipped words could leave no question about her true feelings.

"Then ye are ready to sign the contracts?"

Confusion gripped her, and she shook her head, not sure how to respond.

"Ah, ye have not spoken to yer mother then?"

"My mother? What does she have to do with anything?"

The last of the crowd pushed against them in their eagerness to get to the warriors.

Pádraig glanced down and took a big breath, almost as if composing himself before delivering some important message. When he looked up, she cowered at his fierce expression. Without warning, he moved in close, obstructing the view of the others with his large body. She caught his sly smile just before he clutched his hands around her throat. He pulled her back behind the building, and though she grabbed at the hands squeezing her throat, she was powerless to stop him. Finally, he released her neck and shoved her against the house. She sucked in air at the release, outrage coiling in her gut.

"Yer mother has everything to do with this! Ye thought ye could do better than me with Marcán? 'Tis of no account to me who yer wandering eye has settled on now, as ye are by now betrothed to me."

"I am not!" Her tears came through in her voice. "I would never marry ye!"

"Yer mother and I are in agreement."

"My mother oversteps her bounds if she has made an agreement with ye."

"Ye. Are. Not. Hearing. Me."

When he stepped closer, Astrid trembled.

"Heed me well! Beibhinn and I understand each other, and she assures me there will be no other."

Astrid's jaw was clamped so tight, it ached. He gripped her arm to drag her toward the outbuildings. Short of digging in her heels and screaming for help, she had no escape, and doing so would cause the same problems now as it would have when Faolán had first interrupted him. When he angled them toward the storage building, her heart sank.

No! Not where she'd made love with Marcán.

Servants moved about, but they were readying themselves to join the celebration, small as it would be, of the warriors' return and paid them no attention. No doubt they saw nothing unusual with Astrid speaking with Pádraig. And he seemed content to tarry with her in the shadow of the little building now, biding his time until the others left.

Once alone, Pádraig released her arm. She rubbed the burning skin but refused to face him.

"Not so interested in me now, little one?"

She sneered at him. He slid his hot hand down her throat, continuing over her breast, and she grabbed his wrist with both hands to stop him.

He smirked, pressing his length against her. "Are ye showing me disrespect, even while I hold yer life in my hands?"

Lost to her fear of what he might do, she couldn't respond.

"Release my arm," he said.

Astrid dropped her hands in defeat. His hand continued its assault, fondling her even as he lowered his voice to a seductive tone. "Just who do ye think ye are, little one? Ye think to deny my father's request that ye come to him? Even after my sister travels to ye in the rain?"

Struggling with her fear, she could barely squeeze the words out. "Yer father knows me. It was a ruse to again get me alone!"

"Hah! Listen to the timid little mouse speaking her mind and yet… look?" The arrogant dog turned to the left, then the right, before moving his face in closer. "Ye are alone with me. Very alone."

"Not if I scream." Astrid felt the stirrings of courage in her gut. She envisioned a number of people stepping up to intervene if she did just that.

"And yet I know ye won't." He whispered into her ear like a lover. "I wonder… if I'd had my way with ye that night? Would I even want ye now?"

A sob escaped, and he pulled back to search her face, but she refused to look away, even as hot tears of frustration slid down her cheeks. If that was all he wanted, why would he agree to a union between them? A high price, indeed, to pay just to possess her. Was it taking her virginity that he sought? A bit too late for that. Would his learning that be enough to turn him away?

"I would never mistreat Daimhin," he said, his stilted words revealing his irritation with her, "sending her out into the rain for my own selfish pleasure. 'Twas my father's wish that ye come to him. He liked the idea of our joining. He remembers yer mother as well."

"Then ye are jeopardizing much by treating me this way. If ye are caught, they will kill ye."

"I jeopardize nothing." He raised both his brows. "I want to feel ye again, Astrid." He gripped her breasts with both hands, pressing his palms into her, snuggling his face against her neck when she turned away.

Her stomach tightened. She was going to be sick. When he pressed his stiffened prick against her, she feared she would not be able to stop him.

"I would take ye now. Here. But for the promise I made to yer mother."

A crowd of warriors came around the house just a stone's throw away, laughing and talking, and Pádraig stepped back. His hands were at his sides, but his gaze searched her face. He raised his brows as if to question her. Her nostrils flared.

"Is this why Marcán kept ye in his sights? Ye are too timid to seek help if it puts someone else in danger." Pádraig's expression was intent on her. When he quirked a brow and his lips began to curl up, her irritation shifted into a black rage, sitting like a snake in the pit of her stomach, rearing its head and demanding to be heard. Courage raced through her veins.

"Do not." His lips barely moved as he delivered her orders.

"Gréagóir!" Astrid called to the warrior closest and had the satisfaction of seeing Pádraig not only jump, but his eyes widening in surprise.

One of Diarmuid's warriors stopped a few feet from them. Five or six more warriors continued past. All she needed to do was order Pádraig be taken and the warrior would obey her without another word. Suffice to say their king's sister had respect from all of Diarmuid's warriors.

"Is aught amiss?" Gréagóir came in close, the jagged scar above his brow intimidating to most. She knew he was a kind and thoughtful man despite his stern expression. When he extended a hand to pull her away from the house and into the light, she grabbed it.

"Why are ye hiding in the shadows?" Gréagóir asked. "Come! We have much to celebrate, do we not?"

Pádraig was left to follow behind, and Astrid blew a relieved breath. She would not make the mistake again of getting within reaching distance of that dirty swine.

"We have much to celebrate indeed," she said.