Moon Burning - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,53

as wraiths in the forest the way they did. Though there were still those who cloistered themselves with what learning and study they could.

“He is. Padraig and Father Thomas are good friends, spending many an evening discussing topics that most of the warriors understand less than they do how to use a weaver’s loom.”

The Éan practiced more ancient rites of worship than the Faol. Few were born with the instinct to lead their people spiritually, but those who were had no place in their lives for the warrior’s path. This was one immutable law among the Éan. And not even the Council Elder in charge of the warriors such as her ever questioned it.

She wondered if Rowland’s brother was such a Chrechte. “Is he a priest in training then?”

She was not sure what they called such holy men among the clans.

Verica shook her head, sadness reflected in her gaze. “Rowland would not hear of a Chrechte taking the vow of celibacy.”

The human priests were celibate? How odd. But still. “There are more important matters than procreation.”

“Not according to Rowland.”

“Rowland was destroying this clan and the pack that called it home.” Disgust warred with worry in Barr’s tone. “Men untrained for battle, women forced to provide what should be theirs to gift alone, scholars held back from that which they have been born to do. It is a perversion of all the Chrechte have achieved since joining the clans.”

Verica’s eyes filled and spilled over.

Sabrine stared at her, not sure what to do with the weeping woman as she did not see what reason the other woman had to grieve.

Surely Verica saw that Barr intended to make changes within their pack and clan for the better.

Then Verica threw her arms around her laird and hugged him hard. “Thank you.”

Barr stared at Sabrine over the other woman’s shoulder, his expression bordering on panic. He was clearly demanding she do something, but she was a warrior, not a nursemaid.

“What the hell are you doing holding my mate?” Earc demanded from the doorway.

Chapter 12

No real ire in his voice, in point of fact, Earc looked amused to no end by his friend’s clear predicament.

Verica finally released her laird, patting his arm for good measure and giving him a watery smile. She turned to face Earc. “You and Barr have brought life back to this clan. I was merely saying thank you.”

“It didn’t sound to me like you were saying anything at all,” Earc teased, the humor more pronounced now in his light brown gaze.

Verica frowned, seeming to come to herself. “What are you doing in my room? ’Tis unseemly.”

“I am your mate, ’tis most seemly. Barr’s presence, however, is open to misinterpretation.”

“No, it is not.” Barr’s glare dared his second to disagree.

Earc merely lifted one dark brow.

Verica shook her head. “For goodness sake, you two are like small boys the way you poke at each other.”

“I have not been called small in more years than I remember,” Barr said, somewhat bemused.

Earc just shrugged. “I have spoken to the priest. Father Thomas can perform our marriage before the evening meal.”

Verica stumbled back, her eyes going wide, her heart rate suddenly the pace of a running wolf on the hunt. Or maybe the hare being hunted. “What did you say?”

Earc approached her, but Verica stepped back and to the side.

He stopped, his brows drawing together, the scent in the air going dangerous from one heartbeat to the next. “You heard me.”

She shook her head in denial.

He nodded, taking another step toward her.

“No.” Sabrine no more understood the other woman’s panicked tone than she had the tears earlier. To this point, Verica had shown nothing but a rather rattled acceptance of Earc’s claim. She’d been grateful, even, that the strong warrior had stepped in to save her brother from an unfair challenge.

All of Earc’s affability disappeared. “Aye. I claimed you as my mate this morn, and I’ll not have any challenge that claim because I have not followed up with human tradition.”

Verica’s eyes rolled like those of a horse not yet ridden when facing a rider for the first time, and she bolted from the room.

Earc swore.

“It appears you need to catch your mate before she makes a break for England.”

Earc gave Barr a sour look. “No need to get insulting.”

Barr shrugged, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Earc shook his head and spun on his heel before taking off after Verica with a wolf’s speed.

Barr’s gaze on the empty doorway, he mused, “I think