Moon Burning - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,31
expression on him. “Is that what you meant?”
“Aye. Mostly. Once Barr moves Circin into second-in-command, it is likely I will return to my place with the Sinclairs.”
“What place is that?”
“A Sinclair warrior.” It was all he had ever wanted to be.
“You will not consider staying?” Circin asked with a sidelong glance at his sister.
Earc shrugged. No one knew what the future might bring. A year ago, he would have sworn he would never leave his clan. “It’s at least a few years off and not worthy of proper consideration right now.”
Verica nodded as if he’d been speaking to her. “I agree. The important consideration right now is convincing Sorcha she should accept the guard her laird has assigned.”
“You will not defy your laird’s orders,” Earc told Sorcha.
That settled, he turned to Circin. “You and I will sleep near the door. Verica can share the bed with Sorcha and Brigit.”
Verica made that sound again, the one that indicated she was not pleased. But Earc did not make the mistake of asking her what was wrong. He’d always found women difficult to understand and she was worse than all the others.
Too bad she made him burn. His time among the Donegals was turning into a torturous test of his self-control.
“I have my own bed; my da made it,” Brigit said.
Earc smiled down at her. “Did he now?”
“It’s there.” She pointed to a small alcove off the wall beside the fire.
The love she had for her dead father shone in the girl’s eyes. Earc didn’t know how the man had died, but from Sorcha’s dissembling he could guess. The wild beast had been a not-so-wild wolf. One of his brethren.
Rage boiled in his veins at the prospect of a Chrechte behaving so.
“I will not impose on Sorcha at your say so,” Verica declared. “I can make a pallet on the floor.”
“I won’t hear of it,” Sorcha replied, her clan hospitality coming to the forefront. “If you are all intent on staying, my daughter will share my sleeping area and the healer will take Brigit’s bed.” Though she was responding to Verica’s comments, she directed her words to Earc.
Earc could see by the tightening of her features that this annoyed the tantalizing healer.
“I will freshen the bedding with lavender,” Brigit declared before rushing from the cottage.
“Accompany her,” Earc instructed Circin, who was already headed for the door.
Sorcha gave a fond shake of her head. “She’s that enamored of you,” she said to Verica.
“She’s a wonderful apprentice.”
“I wanted her to wait a couple of years, at least until she was thirteen summers before she began her training, but after her da . . .” Sorcha sighed, her voice trailing off. “She needed something to overcome the grief.”
“I began my training when I was tall enough to stir the herb pot, but then my mother was the one who taught me.” Verica’s voice resonated with an old but still acute grief.
It seemed like too many Donegals had grief of one sort or another and Earc had to wonder how much of it could be laid at Rowland’s feet. As laird he was responsible for the actions of his people, even if he was not directly involved. Barr had a lot more to do among this clan than just train soldiers and a young man for his role as future laird.
“Your dam had such a gentle way about her.” Sorcha bustled about the cottage, moving this, rearranging that, her gaze straying from the door to the windows and back again.
“But she was not weak.”
“Yes. She looked like a strong wind could pick her up and fly her away, but even Rowland hesitated to make her angry.” The loathing and fear in Sorcha’s tone when she spoke her former laird’s name revealed much.
“Few opposed him after her death.” There was a further message in Verica’s words and Earc was an experienced-enough warrior to get it.
“Those that did died.” Sorcha clamped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“Aye, you did and you’ll repeat the same tomorrow when you speak to your laird.”
“She’ll say what she feels safe saying and not one word more.” Verica’s hands landed on her hips again, having what he was sure was the wholly unintentional result of pushing her rounded breasts into prominence.
Her blue eyes shot sparks of defiance. He could not help his mind wandering down a path where those same blue orbs burned bright, but with lust rather than resistance.
No matter, on this topic he would not compromise. “She’ll