Page 39 of The Winter Laird

“She doesn’t sound French,” Aidan replied skeptically.

“You would know, as you’ve been there more often than I,” Nioclas agreed. “France seems the most likely. If she were from Italy, her skin would be darkened from the sun.”

“She sounds nothing like the Italian woman you entertained last year,” Aidan replied with a small smile. “Although I doubt you did much talking with her.”

Nioclas ignored him. “She’s Irish by birth, but that’s all.”

“Something else about her?”

Nioclas gave a small laugh. “Aye, there’s more. Unbelievable, really.”

“Nothing’s unbelievable in Ireland,” Aidan quipped.

Nioclas met his brother’s eyes. “Remember the dreams?”

Aidan froze.

“Aye.Thosedreams…the ones I had for years.” Nioclas ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. “Brianagh isthatwoman.”

“Saints above,” Aidan whispered. “Truly?”

“I wouldn’t be saying it if it weren’t true,” Nioclas snapped, then immediately relented. “I sound daft enough when I say it in my mind—saying it aloud only makes it worse.”

“When did you know?”

“Almost immediately.” Nioclas picked up a quill from the table and examined it. “When I saw her face in our bailey, the night we pulled her from Burke’s land, I suspected. But I confirmed when, after the O’Rourke told her she was to marry me, I asked her for a walk. I was going to allow her to stay on as part of the clan, as O’Rourke was adamant she remain here to fulfill their damn legacy. When she spoke… There was no doubt. ’Twas that odd accent.” Nioclas’s eyes were tortured. “I knew her voice, Aidan. I saw her in my dreams for years, but until I heard her voice, I wasn’t certain. I don’t know if that means she’s cursed…or I am.”

“You don’t believe in curses,” Aidan pointed out.

“I didn’t,” Nioclas agreed. “Until this past week, which has given me nothing but an ache in my head. I thought I could avoid her, then send her on her way, but I suspect that won’t be enough for the elders to believe I love her.” He set his jaw. “It doesn’t help that she is—was—betrothed.”

Aidan raised a brow. “Betrothed.”

“She wants to return to him and has agreed to give me three months.”

“And you agreed.”

“Aye.”

“To give her back to another man, after making her your wife.”

Nioclas rubbed the back of his neck. “In a sense.”

“In a sense?” Aidan repeated. “Do you not plan to send her back after all?”

“Nay. I just married her in a sense, ’tis all.”

Aidan let out a low whistle. “Ah…you’re not married in the truest sense, then. Not the consummated sense.”

“Nay,” Nioclas muttered.

“You agreed to this? To return her to her beloved, untouched?”

“Not exactly.”

Aidan fought a smile as he processed this. “Do you want her to be your wife, in all ways?”

“It matters not what I want. I will not force her. I find myself at a loss,” Nioclas finally admitted. “Our mother…she came to me in that dream the day she died.”

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