Riona (29 page)

“Kieran?” she called, hesitating at the doorway.

“Wait!” Liex darted out of the cottage to stop Riona from entering. “Close your eyes.”

Leila was right behind him, eyes twinkling with mixed mischief and delight.

“I can’t put the food down. The dogs will—”

“I’ll take the food.” Kieran filled the doorway, his expression as unrevealing as the children’s were expressive.

He looked magnificent. No longer was he attired in his traveling clothes, but in an elegant tunic of fine linen cinched at his trim waist with a braided royal sash the same hue as his brat. The Gleannmara brooch sparkled where it held the massive folds of fabric at his shoulder. Golden arm bracelets gleamed against the tanned sinew of his forearms, matching the intricately engraved torque about his neck. He looked every inch the king he was.

“How—”

“The answer lies within, milady.” He took the tray and motioned her inside the cottage.

Given the mixed signals, she hesitated a moment. On leaving the glare of the noonday sun, it took a few moments for Riona’s eyes to adjust. Someone stood at the foot of Kieran’s imda. As her eyes adjusted, she recognized the man.

“Colga!”

Shock kept her from saying more to her cousin. Her attention honed in on the brooch he wore—that of the Dromin chief, worn by Heber and their father before him. So it was done. Her people had chosen Colga as their new leader. Life stopped for no one.

“As glad as I am to see you, Riona, it’s under a devilish shadow.” Apology filled his gaze as well as his voice.

“You lost no time in claiming Heber’s birthright.” There was no condemnation in her voice, just resignation.

“There was none to waste.” But for brown hair, rather than Heber’s raven black, Colga resembled her brother a great deal. Their voices
were even similar. “When the news of Gleannmara’s murder charge reached us, someone needed to take control for the king.”

This drew her from her melancholy. “How came it to you?”

“Brother Ninian of Kilmare sent a mounted courier straight away to Gleannmara.”

Dear Brother Ninian. Surely he was one of God’s earthly angels for all the help he’d been. “Kieran’s rechtaire saw the lord’s things packed anon, as would any steward worth his salt, and we left as soon as the issue of the Dromin chieftaincy was resolved.”

Numbly, Riona nodded. “Benin is a very capable chief of the house. He runs it as if it were his own, exactly as Kieran’s parents would wish.”

She made no attempt to pull away as Colga seized her arms. It was hard to believe what she saw and heard anyway: “Riona, it’s my fault Heber died.”

“What?” Her mind began to race at the pain-filled rush of words. Bran had said as much, but for Colga to admit it to her face—

“I was vilely tricked,” he went on. “I should have been guarding the rear flank with Heber, but was lured away in the fog, baited by a few, while the many swarmed down upon him from the other side of the glen. When the mist cleared, it was too late. Riona—” he gave her an earnest shake—“as God is my witness, I did not mean for Heber to die. I beg you to forgive me.”

“Colga, I—”

Riona broke off, at a loss as to what to think, much less say. Never would she understand a warrior’s mind, but she’d already forgiven Kieran and thusly, Colga, and all the men who’d sallied forth for the glory of battle and profit. Their hearts were good.

“Of course you’re forgiven, Colga, but in truth, I have never held you accountable for Heber’s death. It was just a shock to see the Dromin brooch … just a shock,” she echoed weakly.

“You will have a place of honor in the Dromin chief’s lodge for as long as you wish.”

It was a generous offer, one Colga was under no obligation to make. The lodge went with the title, neither passed on solely from inheritance, but by election.

“I have property of my own, sir. Besides, it is your right, not mine.”

“God bless you, cousin!” Colga embraced her tightly and held her in his relieved enthusiasm an undetermined time before she felt a tug on her skirt.

Riona closed her hand over Leila’s as a sign for the child to wait. “And what of Bran? Have you heard from him?”

Colga shook his head. “Not until Kieran told us of him. We left as soon as Ninian’s courier arrived.” He added with a chuckle, “Bran the bard in a boatload of orphans. Would that I’d seen that. It must have settled on him sorely not to come to Drumceatt.”

Riona remembered Bran’s baleful look as the captain shoved the wickerwork boat from the shore. He and Siony would be at Gleannmara by now, and Kieran’s rechtaire would take it all in his stride.

Leila tugged on her skirt again, this time earning Riona’s full attention. The child pointed into the partitioned imda containing the two beds. On the boys’ was a familiar trunk, laid open, but on the one she shared with Leila was a beautiful flocked shift with a sky blue overdress embroidered with tiny-petaled flowers boasting sapphire centers. Never worn, it was as breathtaking as the last time she’d seen it—as part of the bride price wardrobe Gleannmara had brought with him to ask her hand in marriage. When she’d refused him, Kieran vowed to burn the gown, the chest, and its contents, yet here they were, carefully tended and as lovely as ever.

Good and faithful Benin thought of everything and everyone, she reflected, grateful for the steward’s consideration of her as well as of his lord. The blade in Riona’s throat cut many ways, reflecting the myriad emotions welling within. Pain, joy, melancholy, thanksgiving … all struggled for dominance. Leila picked up the hem of the bridal dress and rubbed it against her cheek, marveling at the softness.

“The colors pale in comparison to your eyes, milady, but this is the best attempt by man to match them.”

Riona turned toward Kieran’s voice, her eyes so blurred that she could not really see him. She wiped them with her sleeve in frustration, wondering that a single tear remained after last evening’s debacle.

“My heartfelt thanks, milord, to both you and Benin.”

It was right to step into his arms, to lay her head upon the rich fabric covering his chest. It soaked up her tears thirstily, as though made for just that purpose. She didn’t resist as his arms closed around her. She fit against him as if by God’s design.

“You are most welcome, lass.” Pride swelled Kieran’s chest beneath her cheek and infected his announcement. “I had the banns posted this morning, sweetling. We’ll be wed after the hearing at the week’s end.”

His lips brushed the top of her head, but Riona hardly felt them. His words consumed her, not his actions.
Banns? Wed?
She couldn’t believe her ears. Stepping away, she looked up at his face. He grinned like a dog chewing brambles.

“Banns,” she repeated in unbelief.

He nodded, pleased beyond himself.

“Wed?”

“In less than a week, the little one will have to sleep alone,” he answered wickedly.

Riona’s heart did a quick pirouette in concert with the dance in his gaze, yet her nostrils flared with her growing incredulity. Shoving his hands away from her waist, she marched to the bed.

Uncertain of anything except that the lady was upset, Leila scampered out of the way as Riona snatched up the gown, wadded it in a ball and stuffed it back into the chest. Liex flinched as she slammed the lid shut.

“Colga, remove this box from my quarters this instant.”

Recovering with a scowl, Kieran moved forward. “What is
this
about?”

Riona put her hand on the trunk and cocked her chin up at him in defiance. “It’s about a fool who thinks he can buy a bride with a box of pretty clothes.”

“ ’Tis a gift, not a purchase.”

“A gift is it?”

He met her challenge, lowering his head so that his nose nearly touched hers. “Aye, a
gift,”
he growled lowly.

Riona refused to be daunted. “You need
banns
to give a gift?”

“Nay, I need
banns,”
he mimicked with indignation, “to marry you.”

“And who says I’d do such a fool thing?” Riona’s voice rose in volume as well as pitch.

Apparently a ready answer failed him. Kieran’s expression went blank, as if it never occurred to him to think that she wouldn’t agree. Bewilderment possessed him and his answer. “You said you forgave me.”

“I said I forgave Colga, too, but I’m not going to marry him.” Riona rolled her eyes toward the dark hollow of the roof overhead as anger clipped the endings off her words. “Marriage is more than postin’ banns and dressin’ a girl in pretties to get her into your bed, Kieran O’Kyle Mac Niall of Gleannmara. Faith, just when I think ye have a chance of bein’ a reasonable man, ye play the fool like you were born to the role.”

“Woman, no man can hold on to reason round the likes of a mulish lass such as yourself, with temper sharp as her tongue.
No man!”

Kieran reached past her and picked up the trunk, hoisting it over his head.

“You don’t want the dresses? Fine. You don’t want me? Fine.” In a black rage, he pivoted and stalked outside to a nearby fire built to warm bath water. With a curse fit for neither man nor beast, he tossed the trunk onto the smoldering coals and stomped away.

Riona’s heart lurched at the sight of the flames and sparks lapping around its polished metal trappings. Why it didn’t burst upon the rocks, she had no idea. With a shriek, she ran to the hearth, torn between rescue and condemnation as she shook her fist in the air.

“Well, if you won’t burn with ’em,” she shouted after him, “then it’s a waste of a good fire!” Turning in a temper-mottled panic, she redressed her silent cousin standing among the curious onlookers who’d ventured closer to see what was amiss. “Well, don’t just stand there gaping like a witless ninny; help me get this out of the bloomin’ flames before it catches.”

K
ieran hadn’t come back since he’d stormed off that afternoon. That evening Riona and the children attended vespers, then shared a meal in the guest cottage without him. As soon as she tucked the twins into bed, she sent Fynn out to look for him while she wallowed in remorse.

When a knock sounded on the door a while later, Riona jerked it open, half-hoping, half-dreading, that it might be Kieran. It was Cromyn. The guilt that had plagued her since her loss of temper rose sharper than ever. She dropped to her knees before the priest. “O Father, I have sinned.”

“My souls!” Cromyn exclaimed, taken back at the impetuous confession. He grasped Riona gently by the shoulders and helped her to her feet. “Come, child, I can’t believe it’s as bad as all that.”

“If I’d seen it coming, I’d have confessed aforehand,” Riona said haplessly. Her eyes brimmed. Stepping aside to allow her guest entry, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve in annoyance. “I vow, a demon accompanies that man, and it possesses me whenever Gleannmara and I are near one another.”

The priest’s brow lifted in surprise as he coaxed each of the birds on his shoulders to respective pegs reserved for cloaks. “A demon, is it?”

“It must be true. I turn from a pious sister in Christ to a raving lunatic or worse, a wanton harlot. And I know it isn’t Kieran alone.” She rambled as though to convince herself. “He’s a good man by the measure of most. That’s why I couldn’t see him hanged for a murder I know he didn’t commit. Not that I wouldn’t have tried to aid any man in such a circumstance, but—”

Cromyn put his finger to her lips. “Hush, child. This penitent floodtide drowns me in bewilderment.” He looked about, glancing first at the imda where the twins slept and then at the Kieran’s empty one.
“Have you done away with your foster brother?”

“Nay, but … ach, Father, I don’t know what to think. I’m remorseful one moment and angry the next. You see, I forgave him for leading Heber off to his death. Father Fintan was right,” she admitted. “Kieran didn’t force Heber to go, even though it was Gleannmara’s idea … and a foolish one at that.” Faith, would this inner debate never end? “I know that war and battle are sometimes unavoidable, but the one that claimed Heber’s life was not. Gleannmara was prosperous enough without hiring out to Aidan for reward. ’Twas all so unnecessary.”

Cromyn shook his head. “The king and his men ousted pirates who’ve been plaguing our shipping routes, both here and in Scotia Minor,” he pointed out. “Those rogues were a menace to all men. It made no difference to them who wore a cross. Only its value was of concern, not that of a human life.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded slowly. Marching over to the slightly charred trunk that Colga had helped her retrieve from the fire and gaining steam once more, she lifted the catch with deft fingers and opened it. “And then he gave me
this.”

She lifted out the blue dress. Holding it to her, she swung around, reveling in the rich material clutched in her fingers. “I thought it the kindest, most thoughtful gesture … perhaps done in return for helping him escape Maille’s and Senan’s false persecution … or in gratitude for my forgiveness regarding Heber … or simply because we were longtime friends who’d come through a difficult time together.”

“A comely token of esteem to be sure,” Cromyn remarked tactfully.

“But tell me, what has forgiveness to do with the acceptance of a proposal of marriage?”

The priest’s bemused scowl reinforced Riona’s own confusion. “Precisely my thoughts.”

Cromyn held up his hand. “Wait, child. I am not certain my thoughts and yours share the same course.” He took the dress from her and gently placed it back in the trunk. “Now sit down.”

Riona started for the bench, then paused, remembering her manners. Kieran could befuddle her even in absentia! “Forgive me, Father. May I pour you some drink?” She rushed to the small table near the
door where a flagon of ale left over from supper sat next to her untouched meal.

“Dear niece, you’d do me most service by sitting in one place and calming thyself. ’Tis like talking to a hummingbird.”

Folding Riona’s hand between his, Cromyn led her to the bench. She took the seat, embarrassed by her uncharacteristic behavior. Or perhaps it was not uncharacteristic at all. Not of late.

“Father, I have not put off anger, wrath, and malice as commanded by the Word, but have come to chew upon them daily since Kieran has returned. And the taste is bitter.”