“Una?” her father prompted without looking away from the other man.
“I don’t know.” The lie tasted sour on her tongue, but the truth would burn worse.
Bryant’s frown of disappointment made Una’s stomach twist.
She didn’t lie. Not anymore. Not so she could sneak out of the safety of their forest, nor for any other reason. And now this man, who knew her better than even her own parents, believed she was a cowardly deceiver.
But he could not possibly understand. She owed her parents not to cause them any further worry or distress. They could not know her Chrechte nature had drawn her into the spirit world, for she knew not what.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she reiterated stubbornly, ignoring the stain the words left behind on her soul.
“You’ll figure it out,” Bryant promised before taking his leave of her parents, with more polish than the “less civilized” Balmoral should be able to accomplish.
SIX
Bryant watched Fionn’s hut surreptitiously while he and Donnach dressed their kill from their early morning hunt.
Una had said she would come to visit her mother today, but he didn’t know when that might be. They had not met on the dream plane the night before.
She called it the spiritual plane, was convinced they were not sharing a dream. He hadn’t been sure it wasn’t merely his own nighttime imaginings right up until he’d met her at the feast the night before.
He’d had to focus hard to hide his shock, first at her appearance beside the irascible Fionn, and then at the difference in her manner from when he’d met her while sleeping.
Donnach nudged Bryant’s shoulder. “Stop staring over there. I told you that old man is not going to warm up to us.”
“You’re wrong. He was almost civil to me last night.” Though Fionn had made his disapproval of Bryant’s appreciation for his daughter more than obvious.
“Well, he’s not going to be civil if he catches you spying on his hut. Why are you watching it so closely anyway?”
“I met his daughter last night.”
“He has a daughter?” Donnach asked, like the idea was too farfetched for belief.
“Aye. She’s lovely, with her mother’s oval face and pretty hazel eyes. Her hair is a soft brown, different from most among the Éan, lighter than most wolves as well, but not blond.” Just like the woman in his dreams, which apparently were not simple dreams at all. “It looks like water falling down her back.”
Heat climbed up his neck as Bryant realized how he must sound to the other warrior.
Donnach looked at him askance. “You find her appealing?”
“Aye.” Bryant frowned.
What was so unusual about that? Many men would find Una attractive, but Bryant didn’t say so. He was too busy trying to control his wolf, which was not at all happy at the idea that other males might look with favor upon his eagle.
Donnach was frowning, too. “No.”
“Yes.”
“You cannot.”
“I can. I do.” What was Donnach’s problem?
Even if Bryant had a choice, and he did not (his wolf growled mate into his mind), he saw no reason to deny the attraction he felt for a woman so timid in person and so bold in their shared dreams.
Donnach shook his head. “This is not good.”
“What do you mean? Mating between the Faol and the Éan will bring about our joining together as brethren easier.”
“Is that what this is about? You’ve decided to mate with the Éan to help our cause?” His fellow Balmoral soldier sounded less than impressed by the idea.