Her father knocked the hand away with his walking stick before Una could even think to take it. “Do you know no better than to proceed without a proper introduction?”
“Thank you so much for offering, Fionn.” Bryant’s tone could only be described as smug.
The man liked besting others in cleverness. She’d noted that even in the spirit plane. She’d found it charming there; here in the flesh, it was more likely to cause her father to erupt in an apoplectic fit.
Sure enough, Fionn’s face turned red with fury as his eyes snapped a promise of retribution.
“Bryant, may I introduce my daughter, Una?” Moving slightly so she stood between Una and Bryant, Mòrag jumped in to fill the gap, as she had so many times over the years with Una’s father’s less-than-polite ways. “Una, this is one of the Faol soldiers our prince has welcomed to live among our people.”
Even if Una had not been meeting the man these past weeks while they both slept, she had seen him arrive in the village. She understood her mother’s move for what it was, an attempt to protect Una from being forced to take the man’s hand in greeting.
Oblivious to Mòrag’s machinations, Bryant simply shifted so that he was once again standing far too close to Una. He put his now red-marked hand out a second time in offering, not even glancing at her father to see if the other man would object this time, too.
Una saw her mother’s telltale wince turn to a look of astonishment as Una’s hand came forward of its own volition to be swallowed in the large, masculine paw.
Though she trembled at a wolf’s touch, she allowed it, not yanking her hand back with unseemly haste, not pulling away from his clasp at all.
His grey eyes narrowed, his expression turning concerned as he inhaled the scent of her fear. He would learn only too quickly that, unlike him, Una was far different in the physical realm than the spirit one.
He did not immediately release her, and contrary to her past experiences, her fear dissipated rather than grew. It did not leave her completely. That would have taken a miracle, and she’d learned she was fresh out of those that fateful day five years past.
But Una felt no urge to run and that was miracle enough, she supposed. Bryant’s hand was warm and strong, just like in the spirit plane. He did not crush her fingers, holding her hand as if she was as delicate as a summer bird.
“I’m an eagle,” she blurted out.
His eyes widened. “That is good to know.”
Though she’d told him her bird form in the spirit plane. He’d told her he wanted to see it, but she’d refused to shift. She emphatically did not want to see his wolf. Not even on the spirit plane.
When she made no reply, Bryant added, “I understood eagles are uncommon among the Éan.”
She’d told him that as well. She hadn’t told him that she was not a very good eagle.
“We are, the Faol have killed too many of us off.” Though his words were anything but, Una’s father’s tone was almost friendly. “And I’ll thank ye to release my daughter’s hand now.”
Una gasped. Whether from the cessation of contact with the only man who had ever kissed her, or her parent’s unexpected reaction to Bryant, she did not know.
“She’s quite charming,” Bryant said to her mother. “You must be very proud of her.”
Mòrag smiled and nodded. “She is. It’s a surprise to us both that our daughter is yet unmated at nineteen.”
Heat climbed into Una’s cheeks as her father made a sound of disgust, apparently as unimpressed with her mother’s impossible attempts at matchmaking as Una herself.
“The Chrechte among our clan often mate at a later age than humans marry. It’s a matter of finding the bond intended by fate to be ours, isn’t it?” Bryant asked with all appearance of sincerity.
Were sacred bonds so common among the Faol then? She’d only ever known of a handful of sacred matings in her life. Éan were encouraged to mate young without consideration to the hope of finding their one true mate. Without offspring, their people would die off.
And there were few enough babies born among their people as it was.
“You believe you will find your sacred mate?” Una asked, still somewhat surprised by her temerity in voluntarily talking to the wolf, no matter their nocturnal visits.
This was not a topic they had spoken about between pleasure-inducing kisses. And this was not the safety of that place out of time.
“I do. Wherever she may be.” The look Bryant gave Una was disturbing in its intensity. “Our laird found his in an Englishwoman. Your own princess is mated to the Faol laird of the Donegals.”
“She betrayed her people,” Fionn stated with categorical certainty.
Both Una and her mother gasped. Prince Eirik would be livid if he overheard such talk. He might even sanction Fionn, but were Anya Gra to hear such a sentiment expressed, the celi di might well curse him and his family, refusing them access to the sacred stone.