“This has not been easy for her,” Oleg said, his voice quavering. “And my Anya is a strong woman, much like yourself, Fiona. Her heart has suffered greatly these many years, and I had hoped this reunion would heal it.”
Fiona reached across the table and placed her hand on her father’s arm. “You brought her to the only place she could heal. You brought her home to her daughters.”
A tear slipped down Oleg’s eye. “You have grown into a fine woman. I am proud to call you Daughter.”
His words touched her heart and for a brief moment she thought of her own father, different in features from Oleg but similar in nature. Her father would expect her to honor and respect Oleg, and in her father’s memory she would do that.
“It is with pleasure I give my blessings for you two to wed,” Oleg said, looking from Fiona to Tarr. “The joy on my daughter’s face tells me she is happy, and if she is happy then I am happy, but”—he waved a finger—“be prepared for frequent and lengthy visits from Anya and me.”
“You are welcome anytime, and you are welcome to stay as long as you wish,” Tarr said.
“He is a good man,” Oleg said with a nod and a wink to Fiona. “A very good man.”
“I think so,” Fiona said, and ran her hand over Tarr’s arm down to lock her fingers with his. He moved close against her side and she cherished the warmth and strength of him. He would love her, she was sure of it and feeling rather foolish for causing him and her so much angst. But that was behind them. Their future loomed large before them and she looked forward to everyday of her life with him.
Talked turned to the ordinary, and Fiona became restless listening to the men, though their conversation did not bore her. She, however, felt the urge to be outdoors, to feel the sun upon her face and enjoy the crisp fresh air.
Her thoughts had her hopping out of her seat and, with a quick kiss to Tarr’s cheek, she said, “I am off, the bright day summons me.”
She grabbed her sister’s dark green shawl from where it had fallen on the bench, draped it around herself, and tossed the end over one shoulder, then out the door she went.
Tarr watched her go, his eyes remaining on the closed door, and after seeing that it remained closed, he turned to Oleg.
“I am concerned for the twins’ safety.”
Oleg nodded to his son. “We have thought the same as does my Anya. She fears leaving them alone.”
That brought a laugh from Tarr and Raynor.
“God help the man who attempts to abduct Fiona,” Tarr said.
“He will live to regret it,” Raynor chuckled.
Oleg’s words turned the room silent. “I myself do not worry about another abduction. My concern is for their safety. What if this time they want them dead?”
Chapter 27
Tarr watched Fiona pick heather alongside the women of the clan. Her cheeks were spotted red from the crisp wind that made its way down the sloping hill. A purple flower was tucked in her bright red hair, which resembled a mass of fiery flames kept aglow by the bright sun overhead.
She had not put the sprig in her hair nor did she collect the heather for the joy of it. She was not that type of woman, all flowery, soft, and gentle. She was a woman of great passion, tremendous strength, and courageous heart.
She would prefer to clean her sword, tend her mare, or string a bow, instead she picked heather for her sister.
He returned the wave she sent him once she spotted him standing there, then she resumed her task with a smile. He could not explain how or when this woman worked her way into his heart, or how she obtained permanent residence there.
He just knew he never wanted to lose her. He had expected little to change in his life when he took a wife; he was wrong and glad of it.
Fiona had filled an emptiness inside him that he had not known existed. His life had been a constant learning in preparation to lead the clan. His father had reminded him daily of his duties, including finding a woman who would bare him strong sons so that the Hellewyk clan would always prosper.
His mother had been a good woman and in her own way loving, though distant. That she had loved him he had no doubt, her quiet