Riona (13 page)

Riona tugged the twins toward the men. “Because going to Gleannmara would have resulted in a battle and loss of life. The best option is to present your case to the high king.”

“Where is your head, woman? Gleannmara is a day’s ride from here. Drumceatt is a good four.” He glanced at the twins. “More with these troublesome mites in tow.”

“I couldn’t leave them at the mercy of Senan,” she explained tersely, “and you are
very
welcome for your rescue from Senan’s noose, milord.” Riona turned from Kieran and motioned for Fynn. “Come along, children. We’ve a long journey ahead, with or without the protection of this bullish iarball.” Her hand flew to her mouth, but it was too late. The spiteful name had slipped out.

Fynn draped his arm about her shoulders. “The Lord can’t blame you for telling the truth. He
does
blow like the hole of a bull’s backsid—”

Riona put her finger to Fynn’s lips. “I’ll not have you following my poor example.” She crossed herself and gathered the twins.

“Better the iarball of a bull than a nagsome gnat,” Kieran called after them, making a whining sound.

Fynn spun, his hand flying to his dagger’s sheath, but Riona caught the lad’s wrist, clearly astonishing him by the strength and ease with which she twisted it, bringing him to his knees.

“Enough! We need to be on our way, not exchanging insults.”

“He started it,” Fynn objected.

“I
started it and I’m
finishing
it now! Understood?” The boy nodded, and Riona helped him back to his feet. “Now help me get the little ones on the pony.”

Without so much as a backward glance at her cousin or the disgruntled lord collecting his horse, she herded her flock away. But Kieran’s aside to Bran floated to her on the still night air.

“Look’s like holy water hasn’t washed all the tartness from the sauce.”

“A drowning in St. Brigid’s well wouldn’t help you, ingrate,” her cousin replied in disgust. “ ’Tis her and her God you owe your freedom to, not I.”

Father, soften Kieran’s heart and strengthen mine
, she prayed, not the least proud of herself. Kieran of Gleannmara wasn’t an evil person, but he could unravel the patience of a saint … which she, despite her best effort, was not.

Fynn lifted the twins onto the pony and vaulted up behind them. Riona handed them the bag of berries she’d collected during the long wait for Kieran’s escape.

“Now if you get tired, let us know. We’ve a long night’s ride ahead.”

“We’ve a long journey ahead,” Kieran corrected her, leading Gray Macha up behind them. “We’ll need to travel by night and rest by day, at least till Dublin’s behind us.”

He paused, his hand patting the gray on its back without purpose. “And we’ve gotten off to a bad start,” he admitted to Liex. “I should have kept the robes on. I didn’t know the plan.”

He extended his hand to the lad, and, at Riona’s reassuring nod, Liex shook it.

In turn, Kieran did the same to Fynn, but the older boy met the gesture with a simmering glare.

The warrior shrugged and withdrew. “Keep that up, lad, and you’ll wind up a puffing iarball, just like me.”

Riona’s pique wavered at her foster brother’s awkward attempt to apologize. She held her breath as he took her hand and brushed her
knuckles with his lips. “Milady, my apologies and gratitude. Will you show your forgiveness by riding my fine warhorse?”

He sounded sincere, but with his back to the moonlight Riona couldn’t read the depths of his gaze any more than she could help the girlish flutter of her stomach at his gallantry. She’d fully intended to ride with Bran, but Kieran of Gleannmara had his measure and more of charm when he chose to use it. The end to which he did so was what troubled her. It wasn’t like him to blow hot one breath and cold the next. What a fine trap he laid with that silver tongue of his. To refuse him would be a poor example for the little ones.

“Put that way, milord, how can I refuse? Not even I can hold a simpleminded beast’s training against him.” She petted Gray Macha’s forehead and nuzzled his soft nose. “I’d be honored, noble Gray.”

For the longest while, Riona sat erect, perched behind Kieran, trying not to touch him. But it was a struggle not to relax against the sinewy warmth of his back. She focused her attention on the little ones, who were so intoxicated with their adventure that they met her quiet queries as to their welfare with eyes wide and bright enough to challenge the sleeping music of Dhagda’s harp.

The strain of the last twenty-four hours demanded its toll, and before long Riona felt the interplay of muscle in Kieran’s shoulders beneath her cheek and the rippled board of his midriff within the circle of her arms as she held on. He was all she wasn’t … hard to soft, warmonger to peacemaker, male to female. The differences were as confounding as they were beguiling, pitting the brace of reason against disarming senses.

She drifted in and out of sleep, listening vaguely to her foster brother and Bran speculate as to what lay at the base of their predicament. She tried to remain cognizant of the conversation, but their voices became a murmur, blending with the hush of the trees on either side of the way. Yet the moment her maternal ear picked up Leila whispering something excitedly to Liex, Riona was full alert.

“Do we need to stop?” she asked, recalling the little girl’s inability to sleep through the night without wetting the bed.

“No, it’s
soldiers,”
Liex gasped, looking to Kieran for instruction.

Riona and the others looked behind them, but the slige, a road
cleared extra wide by law so as not to afford cover for predators, be they human or animal, was as vacant as that before them.

“There’s no one there,” Kieran observed. “Now stop making up nonsense.”

Leila gave Riona a pleading look and repeated her warning.

Liex shrugged. “She says Seargal sees soldiers coming.”

“Who the devil is Seargal?” Kieran demanded.

“Perhaps we might take a moment to rest and tend to nature’s needs,” Riona suggested. She could well imagine Kieran’s reaction to Leila’s imaginary friend. More than likely, the little girl was embarrassed to ask to stop. “We ladies are not as suited to long journeys without stops as you men are.”

Liex, however, had grown used to his sister’s invisible friend’s company and had no problem answering with childlike candor. “Seargal’s Leila’s friend. You can’t see him, but he healed Nessa.”

Riona couldn’t help but smile at the skeptical look Kieran shot over his shoulder, as if he not only doubted what was said, but what he’d heard as well. “And who, I fear to ask, is Nessa?”

“A calf deformed at birth,” Riona explained. “Leila begged it be spared and was given one night for it to recover, which it did. ’Twas most miraculous.”

Kieran was not nearly as impressed as those at the abbey over what had happened. He scowled at Riona. “Do
you
need to stop?”

“I think it would be wise.” She had no pressing need, but a respite could do no harm and might save another delay later. Besides, Leila did have a gift of some nature. Just what, no one knew, but Riona was hesitant to discount the child’s warning.

Before Kieran could decide, Riona slid off the hindquarters of Gray Macha and straightened the fullness of her skirts. Leila, clearly distressed, again spoke to Riona in unintelligible syllables as she helped the child down from the pony’s back.

“We’ll slip into the cover of trees, little one,” Riona assured her.

“She says we all must hide now. The soldiers are coming!”

Liex leapt off the pony to one side, while Fynn dismounted to the other. The elder boy dropped to his knees and pressed his ear to the
ground. Riona’s chest clenched when he straightened abruptly.

“There’s horses coming this way, all right. I hear them. The earth doesn’t lie, and neither does my sister.” Without waiting for the men, he grabbed the pony’s halter. “Stay here if ye want, but I’ll not be taken with ye back to that child-sellin’ rat.”

“Let’s move into the wood, then.” Clearly Kieran was still not convinced. “At least for the ladies’ privacy.”

After dismounting, he handed his reins over to Bran and kneeled down to listen. His head shot up with a jerk of astonishment. “Horses!” he said to Bran. “A dozen or so.”

With a curious glance at Leila, he took the lead. At the forest’s edge, he cautiously cleared a way for the others to follow until the road was barely visible through the thick hazel underbrush. The fine hair of its leaves raked and clung to their clothing, but it was a perfect cover. Barring an unexpected noise, no one would find them.

“Ask Seargal if he thinks the fairies’ll mind?” Liex whispered to his sister.

“Fairies,” Kieran snorted under his breath.

Riona chuckled. “I don’t think the fairies mind sharing the hazel brush with us. We’re all God’s creatures.”

“And we need be
quiet
creatures,” Kieran growled at them.

“Like cats waiting for a mouse,” Bran suggested.

“But we’ll let these mice go on, right?” Liex asked, not at all certain when Kieran took his sword from its sling.

Bran cuffed the boy on the head. “Right. Too many mice, not enough cats.”

“Take the horses farther into the wood in case they make a noise, and stay till I call you,” Kieran told Bran.

Driving the sword into the ground, he kneeled in the cover next to Riona. “If we are found, you and the children go with Bran. I’ll divert Maille’s men away. It’s me they’re after.”

“We’ll not be found,” Riona said in quiet resolution.

“Oh?”

She turned her face to him. “God is with us. I know it in my heart. I can’t say how, but I know we’ll make it to Drumceatt.”

“Faith is a noble thing,” her companion acknowledged dourly, “but I’d as soon have this steel to back it up.”

Always the warrior first, Riona thought, compassion battling with the urge to judge. “Did you kill a man for that weapon?”

“No, but I would have, just as he’d have killed me if he’d had a chance.”

“Then let’s pray you won’t have to use it.”

Riona measured off the wait in heartbeats so that when the mounted soldiers finally thundered past them, she felt as if she’d lived forever. After they were out of earshot, Kieran helped her up from her cramped position between the twins.

“You’ve done well,” she told them. “Quiet as a mouse.”

“We’re very good at hiding. Da taught us,” Liex announced proudly.

“Humph!” Kieran grunted. It wasn’t much of a comment, but it was enough to bring Fynn about angrily.

“Go on, call us thieves. Everyone does. It’s easy to look down your noble nose when ye’ve been born with a full belly. Me ’n’ the twins have done what we’ve had to do to survive. That’s nothin’ more than even
you
would do.”

Kieran stared at the boy for a moment and then nodded. “Aye, no doubt you’re right. And thank your sister for the warning. She’s got the ears of a good hound.”

“You tell her,” Fynn said. “She understands you just fine. She just doesn’t talk right anymore. Not since our parents died.”

“That’s when Seargal came,” Liex elaborated.

“Ah, I see.” Kieran dropped to one knee in front of Leila. “Well then, milady, I thank you and your friend, wherever he may be.”

Leila smiled at him, and Riona’s heart melted. The little girl’s smiles were rare.

“We’ll have to walk the forest’s edge from now on,” Kieran announced. He gave a low whistle, signaling Bran to come forward. “That patrol may double back once they reach the hurdle ford. If they don’t, they’ll be waiting for us there.”

“And if they are?” Fynn asked.

“Then we’ll have to find another way over the river.”

T
he leather tunics were stationed at the far side of the hurdle ford outside the port town, exactly as Kieran had predicted. Comfortably established in front of a riverfront hostelry, they watched the crossing with lazy eyes, more interested in the serving wench who filled their drinking cups. Judging from the steeds tethered nearby, they numbered a score or so.

“Faith, what a boil we’re in now.” Bran slung a stone into the brown river water. It was swallowed and carried off without a ripple.

“You and I could ford the river upstream, but it’s running too high and fast with the recent rain to risk carrying Riona and the children,” Kieran observed grimly.

He cut a glance at Riona, as if hoping she’d take the hint and allow him and Bran to go ahead to Drumceatt without them. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought the children, but if she’d left them behind, they’d be at Senan’s mercy. There had to be a way for her and the children to cross the river.

“We could ask Flora’s father to help,” Fynn suggested. “He could ferry us across on his boat.”

Riona took heart. “Yes! I’d nearly forgotten.” She turned to Kieran. “Flora was one of the orphans we placed in the home of a Dublin fisherman and his wife last fall.” It had been truly a heavenly match, one of many that Riona and Fintan reflected upon with joy often during the winter months. “If we hurry, we might get there before he leaves.”

“You think he’d take you?” Kieran asked.

“I’m almost certain of it.”

“An’ Fynn can get to see his sweetheart.” Liex ducked as his elder brother took a swat at him, but in the close quarters of the pony’s back, there was no escaping it. The twin yelped, but mischief danced in his eyes.

“She’s a friend, nothin’ more,” Fynn declared to Kieran and Bran, color suffusing his freckled cheeks.

“Looks like the color of love to me,” Bran quipped.

Kieran grinned. For the first time since they’d left Kilmare, he reminded Riona of the foster brother she loved rather than the haggard warrior of the last few days. “Then we’ll see you safely reunited with your
friend,”
he teased, vaulting up on Gray Macha’s back. He turned to offer his hand to Riona. “Milady?”

A few questions later, asked of the early risers along the waterfront, Riona’s group found Mully O’Laughlin and family repairing their nets. Mully not only agreed to ferry Riona and her charges across, but also fed the entire entourage with day-old porridge and fresh bread baked by young Flora.