Irish Moon (34 page)

Breanne inhaled sharply and walked through
the door.

“What happened?” she said, her discovery
forgotten. “Who did this?” What were they looking for?

“I know not, nor can I guess as you’ve seen
fit to ensure, Breanne. I’ll allow you a moment to locate your
belongings and count the losses. Then, you and I have affairs to
discuss.”

Breanne met his eyes and saw the
disappointment in them keen and fresh. It made her feel smaller
than a field mouse. She nodded her head. It was clear he knew
enough that any fabrication she’d managed would be seen through,
particularly since her room appeared robbed.

“When was it found in this fashion?” she said
and began righting the toppled furniture.

“Rose alerted your mother before dawn.”

Her mother. She must be fretful to the point
of madness after finding such a mess and no daughter to speak of.
Breanne felt terrible, to be sure. What words could ever measure
her level of regret? None came to mind and likely wouldn’t. At best
she could receive her penance and hope to one day repair the
tatters their trust must be in for her.

“As I readied my guard, it came to light that
you were not in the room when this violence occurred. I care not to
know what you’ve done to incur this upon yourself. I only care that
you do not have the chance to do so again.”

Breanne nearly choked on the lump that rose
in her throat. What punishment would fit this crime? Moreover, what
exactly did Niall believe her crime to be?

“But you knew me to be safe,” she said.

“Aye, we did. But, such matters will wait
until we finish here. Are you missing anything of import? Do you
recognize what the person was after?”

Breanne replaced the contents of her trunk,
broken mirror, candles, cracked jars and bowls, her buried book.
Naught was gone, only broken or torn. She hugged the satchel inside
her cloak closer and shook her head. “I canno’ know. I find nothing
gone.”

“Come along then, lass. Your mother and
Quinlan await us.” His voice was laden with emotion and sounded
defeated.

“Before we go to them, my lord, I must speak
of Heremon to you,” she said, unsure what aim she had except a
bargain for time.

Niall faced her outside of the doorway. “Ah
yes, I should have spoken with you of it earlier. With all of the
arrivals and preparations, it slipped my mind—.“

“I believe I know why he was murdered. I
believe I know the poison the killer used. Together, we may be able
to ascertain who is to ….”

“Heremon was not murdered, Breanne,” he said,
his voice a boom of thunder. “I found in his cottage a closet full
of herbals and concoctions that he experimented with. I have
established his death as an accidental, self-induced
poisoning.”

Breanne felt as though he’d hit her. It
couldn’t be. Heremon had been hiding Ashlon, the chest, it must be
linked to his strange death. She shook her head in denial.

“I speak the truth. I found the mislabeled
jar myself, quite by accident, and brought it here to compare its
properties to that matching my own for the heart. By its pungent
odor and consistency, I have concluded the facts just presented to
you. I am sorry to have left you in the dark regarding the
matter.”

Breanne frowned, thoroughly confused. Heremon
mislabel a concoction? She simply couldn’t envision it. It went
well past the Druid’s habits of collecting, making clear
inscription, and logging. The habit had been the bane of her study,
her most hated role as an Ovate apprentice.

But, Niall did not look open to argument. He
looked to be fast out of patience and time for her. Breanne snapped
her open mouth shut. She could not very well tell him of Ashlon and
the chest in any case, so she would have to find Heremon’s killer
on her own, once the current storm in her life passed.

Ula and Quinlan sat together in armed chairs
on one side of the room, opposite the empty one intended for her.
She’d last sat in this seat with demands of a husband laid upon
her. She preferred the past to what loomed for her there now.

Breanne sat, adjusting the satchel under her
cloak so that the book didn’t jab her ribs, then rested her hands
in her lap. Niall shut the door as softly as a serpent’s hiss ready
to strike.

She looked at Quinlan first in hopes of
gauging what was about to happen. But, his features were schooled
well and he did not meet her eyes. Niall had his back to them, his
head tipped toward the sky outside the window.

“I marry today, Breanne,” Ula said. Her eyes
were on her lap.

“Aye.” She did not know what else to say.

“It should be a happy occasion. And the lord
knows, I deserve one.”

“Aye.”

“I’ve concluded your behavior must be an act
of jealousy, a rebellion, and I will say this once so that my own
conscience holds no regret.” She looked at Breanne. “I love you.
You are my first child and none can take your place.”

“I love you, as well, Mother.”

Ula closed her eyes a moment, smiled tightly.
When she opened them, they were cold and sent a chill down
Breanne’s spine.

“I ask for truthfulness in your answers,
Breanne, and please know that I will recognize a lie. Now then, who
is he?”

Breanne swallowed. “Who is who?”

“The man Quinlan spied in your bedchamber
window last night, the man you spent the night with.”

“No man has been to my chamber save you,
Quinlan, and that with your sister and my mother. You are mistaken
in what you saw.”

Quinlan met her eyes. He looked sympathetic
but shook his head. “I fear I made no mistake, Breanne. He peered
out your window, waved to me. Do you wish me to describe him? I am
able to.”

“Aye, I do wish, for I swear that no man has
been in my chamber.” She did not want to lie and so could not
answer the second part of the question, not in front of Quinlan.
“Mayhap you saw the man who ransacked my chamber.”

Niall kept his back to them and seemed as
though he were there only for support. She didn’t realize until
then that her mother was who she faced in reprimand.

“Do you deny you were with a man, alone last
night?” Ula said.

Breanne’s cheeks burned hot. Who could have
been in her room? Why were they not interested in the same
conclusion she easily drew? “Nay, I do not deny it. I deny that a
man came to my room for the reason you imply. I insist that Quinlan
witnessed a thief not a lover.”

“I saw you leave with him, Breanne,” Quinlan
said. “And your chamber was in no disarray when I verified your
departure, worried as you can imagine, by entering the chamber with
Rose when you did not answer my knocks and yelling.”

Breanne felt like a rabbit backed up against
a wall of rock too high to jump, too wide to scurry around. She did
not want to admit last night’s deeds to any person, especially to
the man who sought to marry her. Quinlan did not deserve to be so
betrayed. It would crush him if he found out.

Not that she would continue to encourage, or
rather not discourage, his attentions. She would beg off from his
interest at the first opportunity. Though, Ashlon had left Tir
Conaill and her, without a word, he could return within a few
days.

She just needed more time get her bearings.
So much had happened and now they asked her to reveal what she had
thought no one would ever discover. Her intentions last night were
to only have a single night with him, one moment to feel heaven.
Time enough later to face the loss of his departure. “You say you
saw me leave with the man. At what hour? How can you be certain it
was me you saw?”

“I grant you, I did not see your face. I saw
your blue cloak, the one and same my sister gifted to you, your
favorite. And I saw the way he held you close, kissed your cheek,
and rushed you out the main doors.” Quinlan’s voice was
strained.

“You said you are able to describe the man?”
She clung to hope. She’d worn her green cloak last night, still did
now but what would it improve to point out that which she could not
prove? Her mother looked well past impatient. Niall kept his gaze
away from them.

Quinlan shifted and said, “As tall as me,
lean, broad, black hair. One of the arrivals from O’Doherty no
doubt,” he said to Ula.

The description was too close to Ashlon’s. He
could have mistaken the cloak’s color and spotted her joining
Ashlon outside the gate. But, why would Quinlan lie about where he
saw them, or their greeting?

“His hair was sparsed with nearly white
streaks but I saw no other aging in his movements. He looked quite
virile.” His meaning was unmistakable when he frowned his mouth in
disgust.

But, how could she tell them that she did not
know who he spoke of, that she was with Ashlon who had no graying
whatsoever? And who could that leave as the person’s Quinlan truly
saw? The fright from being cornered grew into confused anger.

“When did my room become in such disarray
then?”

“Within an hour later when Rose returned to
check on your return, telling me I must have been mistaken in what
I had witnessed.”

“You were mistaken.”

Ula sighed in exasperation. “You are avoiding
the matter at hand. I will play no more ruse. Give us the man’s
name so we may secure your betrothal.”

She saw no way out of it. “I will not lie to
you mother. I was not alone, nor in my room last eve. But, I
promise you that Quinlan is mistaken in who he saw. It was not me.
And the man he described is not one I recognize.”

Niall was the only listener that did not gasp
in outrage. Ula stood, her hands on her hips, looking more furious
than Breanne ever recalled. Quinlan shook his head and looked as
though he did not know her.

Breanne’s chest welled with emotion. Why
could they not see that something far more important than her
virtue’s loss had occurred last eve? Because they knew not of
Ashlon’s circumstances. And she could not explain any part or the
entirety.

“Do you require I ask Quinlan to find the man
himself and bring him forward? Or will you make affairs simple for
us all by finally being forthright?” Ula crossed her arms. Niall
came to her side.

He gave Breanne a surprisingly understanding
look. “Don’t become distressed, Ula. Breanne will name the man. It
is our wedding day. She has not meant harm, have you Breanne?”

“No. I wish no hurt to any and though you may
find it difficult to believe, have strived to prevent hurting all
of you.” Breanne waited for Ula to be seated. “Quinlan, I would
like to first apologize for misleading you. I in no way ever meant
to deceive you.”

Quinlan curtly nodded and if she didn’t know
better, looked supremely relieved. Well, seeing the issue over with
must cause some relief. How long had he been forced to sit and wait
with her mother and stepfather, all wondering what scandalousness
she was about?

“I fear, mother, that my answer will greatly
disappoint you for there will be no betrothal. The man I spent last
eve with is gone.”

“What do you mean he is gone?” Niall
demanded.

“He left me last night at what hour I know
not. He does not mean to return.”

“He will have no choice,” Niall said. “He
will honor the promise made in bedding you, or were you not in fact
bedded?”

“Niall, please,” Ula said, blushing for
Breanne’s sake.

Strangely, the crude question did not
embarrass her. She felt no shame in experiencing Ashlon to the
fullest definition last night, ruinous or no.

“He is a man of honor, Niall but I fear, he
may have no other choice.”

Niall bent forward. “It will be his only
choice. His name, Lady O’Donnell.”

Breanne took a deep breath. Niall was wrong.
Only one thing would bring him back. Love.

“Sir Ashlon Sinclair.”

Chapter Twenty One

“I must admit I was surprised at your
leaving. Now, don’t look at me that way, Ashlon. I do not pry. I
merely conjecture.” Ramsey smiled up at the sun.

Ashlon didn’t bite. He didn’t know what
irritated him more at this point, seven hours into their journey,
the afternoon’s heat wearing the horses even as they now walked, or
Ramsey’s incessantly cheerful disposition.

The man had discussed the passing beauty, his
adopted clan, his love of hunting. And now, he had returned again
to Ashlon as his favorite topic to dissect at length.

“I do not wonder so much as the reason as the
fact that you left alone and at such a dreadful hour. Did you not
comprehend the risks of doing these two things simultaneously?”

Ashlon clenched his jaw. “I saw no risk at
all. In fact, I saw less risk.” Of being detained, of being noticed
gone.

Of course, Breanne would have noticed. Ashlon
chest tightened uncomfortably. He tugged at his tunic collar. His
sword banged at his thigh in beat with the steed’s walk.

“None told you then, during your stay? Well,
you had not been there long, had you? A fortnight or so?”

Ashlon grunted his acknowledgement.

“And that explains it then. It’s a good thing
I saw you leave and was hard put to stay asleep this morn, then. I
may have saved your life, Ashlon.”

Ashlon chuckled derisively. “Oh, Ramsey,
how’s that?”

“Well, any good Irishman worth his weight in
cattle would tell you that the whole land is enchanted and a full
moon is an imp’s playground for mischief and mayhem.”

He guffawed aloud, the laugh erupting from
deep within him. Ramsey looked better than pleased with himself,
making him wonder if lightening Ashlon’s heart was what he’d been
about all day long.

“No, Ramsey, none shared that little tidbit
with me.”

“I can see you don’t believe me. You’ll soon
enough know for yourself of the magick in this land.”

Ashlon couldn’t help thinking he already did
and of Breanne. There were none like her. He found her to be bolder
and braver than most men, yet honest and loving and utterly
feminine. But, if she kept sneaking into his thoughts, he’d never
make it to the Causeway.