Riona (14 page)

“Somethin’ told me to make extra for the market today,” the young girl told Fynn. She smiled with pride as he bit into the loaf and chewed, nodding in approval.

Riona produced a coin from her purse. “And you shall profit by it still,” she said, handing it to Flora.

The young girl shook her head, blond curls bouncing. “Faith no, milady. ’Tis small repayment for the kindness you showed me and my family. When the yellow blight took my parents, I gave up hope, but you promised that, with faith, God would send me a new family. I’m blessed to be sure,” she said, hugging her mother. “And I’m tellin’ Fynn here that the same will happen for him and the twins, if they have faith.”

“It already has,” Fynn informed her promptly. “We belong to Lady Riona now. O’ course, I’m too old to be her son, but we’re like as kin just the same, right?”

Riona hugged him ignoring Kieran’s disparaging stare. “Right, you are.” She didn’t care if the lord of Gleannmara approved or not, the gleeman’s children were her own. God called her to take them, of that she had no doubt.

“Is one of these gents to be your husband then, milady?” Nell, Flora’s foster mother, asked innocently.

“Aye.”

“No!”

Kieran and Riona’s simultaneous declarations clashed, silencing the room save for the clink of Leila’s cup as she placed it on the table. Her blue eyes grew wide in embarrassment as all gazes swung to her.

“There are many issues to be resolved before I could even consider marriage to Kieran,” Riona explained. Always the husband issue! As if a woman could not live without one. Her ire spread its red heat from tip to toe.

Liex folded his arms across his chest and mimicked Bran’s earlier observation. “Looks like the color of love to me.”

There was nothing to do except join the laughter. Still, Riona was grateful when Mully entered and announced he was ready to set off. With good-byes and thank-yous, they followed the fisherman to his small boat, Kieran and Bran carrying the children. As Riona hiked her skirts to wade in, Kieran stopped her. Sweeping her up in his arms, he proceeded to the boat as if she weighed no more than Leila. On seeing her settled, he cupped his hand round the back of her head and pulled her to him, planting a kiss soundly upon her mouth. Hardly as mind-riddling as his last, it still left her speechless as he pulled away, a wicked twinkle alight in his eye.

“At least you’re considering my offer, milady, which is more than you were yesterday.” With a cocky smirk, he turned away.

Riona watched, slack-jawed, as he waded out of the river. Water ran off his tunic, gathering it to sturdy, well-formed limbs. She shifted her gaze to where Gray Macha awaited lest the sight conjure untoward fascination. What the devil ever gave the man the idea she was considering his marriage proposition? He was arrogant, bullish, and—

“Do you think he’ll want us, too?”

Riona looked at Liex’s hopeful face, and her indignation withered. “If he wants me, then he’ll want you because you three have become a part of me.”

Beside the lad, Leila giggled something.

“Seargal says that’s our new da,” he passed on.

“Tell that invisible lout to mind his own affairs,” Riona snapped before she could stop herself. Heaven help her, she was arguing with
an invisible man. Or worse yet … what if Seargal was one of God’s messengers?

It wasn’t the first time Riona considered the possibility.

As Kieran and Bran took off across the gorse-splashed moss on the shore leading the children’s pony, she prayed aloud.

“Father, bear them safely across.”

Liex and Leila crossed themselves as she did, but Fynn looked away sullenly. Riona wanted to say more but was at a loss as to what to pray for. Wearily, she closed her eyes as Mully shoved away from the shallows. There was only one thing to pray for, she realized. Surrendering, she added silently,
And Thy will be done
.

The current and a favorable wind carried the vessel toward the north shore of the town. The boat rocked gently under the steady hand of the fisherman while the cry of the gulls and the chatter of the children blended into a peace-giving lullaby. Riona fought sleep as they passed ships anchored off the coast and watched them load and offload trade goods. Wines, silks, and spices came in from the Mediterranean while hides, salted beef, and timber went out.

Mully put in on a strand of rock-strewn beach. Again Riona tried to pay the man, but he’d not hear of it. Providence had blessed him, he insisted, and this was his chance to pass it along. The son of a fellow fisherman offered to show Riona and her charges the way to the chapel by the holy well.

Nearly a hundred years before, St. Patrick himself had blessed the pagan inhabitants of the riverside community with a source of fresh drinking water after his hosts complained that the river water was too tainted for human consumption. With a tap of his staff, fresh water spouted up from the bog. Thus converted, they built a chapel by the well and marked the road with a stone cross in remembrance of the saint. Now pilgrims in need visited the place to partake of the holy waters in hopes of God’s healing and blessing.

By the time they reached the ancient grove of oak nearby, their clothing was dry. Fynn gave it his best to keep moving, but the twins stumbled with exhaustion. Riona gently encouraged them to keep going until they were in the cover of the trees within sight of Slige
Culann, the road leading to legendary Tara.

Beneath a giant oak that was no doubt revered by druids of old, Riona unpacked the food Nell and Flora had prepared for them, but she was no different from her companions—too tired to eat more than a mouthful or two. The rest she wrapped for later. Then, sitting next to Fynn, she leaned against the towering tree and tucked her flowing brat over the twins, tucking the cloak close to protect them from the night’s chill. There was nothing to do now but wait and rest. The latter came easiest, making the wait bearable.

How long she slept, Riona had no idea. It wasn’t until she felt the touch of a hand upon her cheek that she opened her eyes to see Kieran smiling at her. He put his finger to her lips, silencing her.

“Sleep. We’ll rest at least till nightfall.”

Beyond him, Bran settled down by a tree and stretched out. Gray Macha, his horse Bantan, and the pony grazed on the undergrowth nearby. All was well, at least for the moment. Riona’s eyelids fluttered closed again, a sigh of thanksgiving hovering on her lips.

What aroused her, Riona had no idea, unless it was the rumbling of her pillow. Bewildered, she sat up and instantly noticed the cool of the dark evening wedging between her and the warm shoulder she’d slept upon. Blinking to clear the fog of sleep from her brain, Riona made out Kieran’s face, framed by the tumble of his fair hair.

A second golden head, smaller and more delicate, rested on his chest. Excluded from the ball of bodies formed by Fynn and Liex at Riona’s one side, Leila had evidently sought out the warrior’s warmth as well. The child lay curled in his lap under the cover of his brat.

He had to have tucked her in. There was no way she could have wormed her way beneath his cloak without his knowing. Was this really possible? Riona was warmed beyond measure at the sight. Or was she dreaming?

A loud snap from where the horses were tethered invaded the serenity of the makeshift camp. Kieran leaped to his feet, spilling a startled Leila onto the ground. No less bewildered, Riona stared into the darkness under the leafy canopy of the trees. The thin shafts of moonlight filtering through revealed movement among the animals.
Whether animal or human, it was enough to still both heart and breath.

“Who goes there?” Kieran challenged, brandishing his sword from its sheath.

Instead of answering, the figure broke away from the cover of the horses and ran deeper into the wood on two feet. Human. Riona found her breath, her pulse leaping to twice its normal rate.

Kieran started after the intruder when another figure sprang at the first, both tumbling down in a heap of leaves and crackling underbrush,

“I got him!” Bran shouted from the clamor of limbs. His declaration was followed promptly by a feminine shriek of outrage. “Faith, it’s a gir—” The bard’s astonishment broke with a pained yelp.

Kieran dropped his sword and reached down, plucking the female from the tangle of limbs and brush. “More like a horse thief to my notion.”

“I wasn’t stealing your horse. I don’t even know how to ride the beasts.” The female twisted and tugged to get away from Kieran’s iron grasp to no avail.

“Then what were you stealing?”

Riona sat with the children, as befuddled as they by the commotion.

“My virility,” Bran gasped, staggering to his feet unsteadily. “Sure, she’s kicked it clear to Tara.”

“I was hungry,” the young woman growled, taking a shot at Kieran as well, but the warrior, forewarned by the hapless bard, dodged her foot and twisted her arms so that she faced away from him. “I thought there might be food in those sacks.”

“A turn in Maille’s dungeon might get the truth out of you.”

At Kieran’s threat, his captive dissolved in tears. “He took my brother, you cursed leather tunic. He might as well have me.”

“And what did your brother steal?”

“Nothing, I swear it. He’s only eight.”

Riona scrambled to her feet and rushed over to where Kieran held the girl at bay. She was a young thing by the sound of her voice. “Calm
down, child. We mean you no harm. What’s your name?”

The captive ceased to struggle at Riona’s assurance. “There’s a woman with you?”

“And children.”

“More for Silver Tooth, I’ll wager.”

“Silver Tooth?” Riona echoed in surprise. “He’s here?”

“Like you wouldn’t know it.” The girl tossed her head toward Fynn and the twins. “I guess you’ll be shipping them off as well.”

“Heaven’s, n—”

Kieran cut off Riona’s denial. “This Silver Tooth is no friend of ours, and I’d be obliged to know where I might lay hands on him myself.” He shook the girl, who still struggled to be set free. “Now I’ll unhand you, lass, and you’re welcome to share what food we have, but first tell us what you know about Lord Maille and Silver Tooth.”

“I’ll tell no leather tunic a thing,” the girl railed in defiance.

Riona put a gentle hand on the frightened captive’s arm. “What’s your name?”

“Siony.”

“Siony, I am Lady Riona of Dromin, and this is Kieran of Gleannmara. We’ve saved these children from Silver Tooth and suspect him of the murder of the abbot of Kilmare.”

The girl shrank away as if afraid to accept her word.

Fynn stepped forward. “It’s true, lass. And Gleannmara here took the leather tunic from Maille’s guard so’s he could escape. We’re all runnin’ for our lives.”

“If we could capture Tadgh, we could prove your innocence,” Riona exclaimed.

Kieran contemplated the girl. “I’m going to let you go if you give me your word you can act civilized.”

“As civilized as the likes of you.”

Riona wrapped her arm around the girl. “Come, Siony. Sit down and eat. We’ll share our stories, for it seems we have all been wronged by Lord Maille and this Tadgh—”

“Silver Tooth,” Fynn corrected.

“This murderer and slaver of children.”

No one chose to improve upon Riona’s final assessment. She led Siony to where the twins sat and made the introductions. Taking care to divide the food evenly, she handed out the loaves of bread and gave thanks for the many hands that delivered them safely thus far and made the meal possible. As she prayed, Riona felt even more certain that God was orchestrating all of this.

“And Father, we thank You for bringing Siony to us and pray that in Your all-seeing wisdom You will continue to guide us against this terrible evil plaguing our families.”

At the chorus of amens, Siony hungrily began to devour her portion. Moved, Riona toyed with her own bread and gave their guest the rest.

“I’m too excited by all this to eat,” Riona explained, avoiding Kieran’s searching stare.

“I thank ye, milady. I haven’t eaten since they took Naal.”

“Ye’d never know it with that potbelly of yours,” Bran accused grudgingly.

“Bran!” Riona gasped, shocked by her cousin’s uncharacteristic malice. “Shame on you.”

“Shame on her and that dastardly foot of hers.”

“If you hadn’t attacked me—”

“Attacked?” Bran stared at Siony as if she were demon possessed.
“Attacked?”
he echoed again. Riona’s cousin always repeated himself when he was flustered. “My
dear
young lady, and I use that term most generously, I may never sit well on a horse again, much less carry on my father’s line.”

“Tell us about Silver Tooth,” Kieran interrupted, bringing the subject back to its original purpose.

“And I’m
not
fat,” Siony exclaimed. “I’m eating for two.”

Kieran choked. “Two?”

Bran moved away to the other side of the circle, as if Siony’s affliction were contagious.

No less shocked, Riona recovered first. “How old are you, Siony?”

“Eighteen come harvest.”

“You speak as though you’re more than a fisherman’s wife,” Riona observed.

Siony lowered her gaze. “My father was a merchant. He hoped I’d marry as well or better, but the heart cares not for the man’s purse, but the man himself. I married a fisherman against my father’s wishes. Then Rev and his boat were lost at sea November last, so Naal—he’s Rev’s younger brother really—and I came to the hurdle ford to find work and lodging. I help the cooks at the public house, but last night when I came home, Naal was gone. Silver Tooth and that woman of his are there, along with children they’ve collected.” Siony wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffled loudly. “I know the brewy sold my brother to them.”

“So Silver Tooth is at the ford with Maille’s soldiers?” Kieran’s tone was grim.

Siony nodded. “Aye, he’s there, stuffing his barrel of a belly and bragging about how rich he’ll be when the slaver arrives.”

“And the children?” Riona inquired.

“Locked in a storage house and fed scraps.” Siony spat the words, shuddering with contempt. “I was on my way to the monastery to see if the holy brothers might help when I came across your camp. I’ve been in such a stew, afraid the ship’ll come in before I can get Naal away from the cur.” Siony gave Riona a plaintive look. “No one cares about parentless children or a widow with child.”