Mòrag and Una laughed softly at what was clearly meant to be a joke, but her father frowned. “A woman should always be trained to protect herself.”
“On that we agree. Balmoral women are taught to hunt small game and most fathers teach their daughters simple defense, but life among the clans is different than it is for you here in the forest.”
“Different,” her father derided. “That’s one word for it.”
Bryant didn’t look in the least offended, just smiled slightly. “I know you think little of being civilized and I must admit that the Balmoral are far less so than other clans.”
“Hmmph.” Her father gave his favorite answer when he had nothing to add.
“Do you never come down to the village?” Bryant asked Una. “I have not seen you there.”
The slight emphasis he gave to the word there appeared unnoticed by her parents, but Una felt it deep inside. They shared a secret, an intimacy easily equal to that of their kisses.
“I usually come down daily.” But she’d been afraid to come down with the wolves there.
Besides, her father had forbidden her.
Fionn frowned. “She doesn’t need to be down in the village with strange soldiers running amok.”
“We are hardly running amok and surely after a month, not nearly so strange to you any longer?”
“You’re a wolf. You’ll always be strange,” her father pronounced, but without his usual heat.
“I’ve missed my daily visits with my daughter,” her mother said with a plaintive look at first Fionn and then Una.
Guilt suffused Una. She’d kept away from her mother because of her own fear, both of the wolves and of upsetting her father when she knew she’d given up all right to do so.
And deep inside, where she never let others see, she had been beyond terrified she would meet Bryant only to discover her sojourns on the spirit plane had all been in her imagination.
“I will come to see you tomorrow,” Una promised her mother.
Mòrag smiled, patting her arm. “I would like that.”
“Hmmph.” Her father contributed, but it was not a denial.
Una let a tremulous smile curve her lips.
“Perhaps I will see you as well,” Bryant said.
“Why would you want to?” Una blurted out before thinking how the words might sound.
But Bryant didn’t laugh, or even smile. His masculine countenance had turned entirely serious. “I believe you know.”
“I . . .” But she did not know what to say.
She did not want to tell her parents about the trips to the Chrechte sacred place. They would worry. Besides, had he not realized yet, she was not the same person here as she was there?
“What are you talking about?” her father demanded.
“In this case, I believe the particulars are between your daughter and me.” Bryant’s expression showed no chance of being moved.
“Nonsense. She is mine to protect and care for.”
“Until she is mated.”
“She’s not mated yet,” her father said in a tone Una had never heard from him before.
She stared at him, but he was busy glaring at Bryant.