Page 50 of The Winter Laird
Reilly didn’t look up from the leather satchel he was digging in. “Nay.”
“Are you so sure?”
Reilly groaned. “MacWilliam, you married the lass. She belongs to you. You need not release her to anyone, especially a man as worthless as de Burgh.”
“I made a vow.”
Reilly stood and faced Nioclas. “Were I you, I’d stop making so many foolish vows.”
Nioclas didn’t blink. “I could have you killed.”
“You could try.”
A charged moment passed, and Nioclas slowly uncrossed his arms. “I have no need for a wife who would throw herself from my parapet.”
Reilly frowned. “Throw herself?”
MacWilliam frowned harder. “Her happiness, O’Malley. Will she be unhappy to remain here? Was her life so perfect before?”
Understanding dawned. Reilly crossed his own arms and widened his stance. “I will not speak for her happiness here, MacWilliam. That’s in your hands. But her life before you? Aye, ’twas a good one. Full of family and happiness. Butnotwith de Burgh.”
“Your tales make no sense. She was happy, she procured wealth by trade in marriages, and yet she agreed to wed someone to whom she holds no love?” he asked, skeptical. He narrowed his eyes. “I have no reason to believe you.”
“Yet you have reason to want to,” Reilly surmised. At the look of surprise that crossed Nioclas’s face, he continued, “Whatever that reason is, believe inthat. Things that cannot be explained fully are known to happen in this land. Perhaps ’tis time for you to decide whether or not that vow you made is one worth breaking.” His jaw tightened. “I am fully certain that while she may be missing many things from her life before you, Matthew de Burgh is not one of them.”
“If you tell falsehoods, you will pay dearly.”
“You’d have to find me first,” Reilly replied with a smirk. “And if you believe nothing else, believe when I tell you there’s no way you could follow me to where I’d go. But it’s a moot point, MacWilliam. They have no love for each other.”
“Was it an arranged match, her and the Frenchman?”
“He’s American, and nay.”
“Then why did she agree to marry him?” Nioclas asked.
Reilly shrugged, then reached again into the satchel once more. “Only she can answer that.” He pulled out a dirk and grinned at it. “Huh. Thought I lost this one in my last battle.” He tucked it into his boot, then gave Nioclas a pointed look. “Surprising what we find when we take a closer look, aye?”
* * *
When Nioclas foundher the next day, Brianagh was directing the activity in the great hall. Tables were pushed against the wall, and women everywhere swept the rushes into manageable piles. The tapestries that lined the walls were carefully removed and taken outside, and men hauled buckets of ashes from the large fireplaces at either end of the hall.
“Come and walk with me, Brianagh?” Nioclas asked as he approached her.
She turned to one of the women near her. “Mary, would you please ensure the tapestries are free of any dirt before they are hung again? I’m going for a walk with Laird MacWilliam.”
“Aye, Lady MacWilliam.” Mary bobbed, then continued her duties as Nioclas sent someone to fetch his wife’s cloak.
“No training today?” Bri asked Nioclas.
“I’ve finished for the afternoon and thought to take some time in your company,” he replied easily.
Brianagh’s warning flags rose. From everything she’d heard at the castle, on his training days, Nioclas never finished training before dark unless there was a battle. And from everything she’d seen, that was the truth—he never put his sword down while there was still some semblance of sunlight.
Suspicious.
He helped her fasten her cloak, then led her away from door where the men used clubs to beat the soot from the tapestries. Brianagh quickly told them to cover their mouths and noses so as to not breathe it in. They did as she asked without question and continued on with their work.
“The clan certainly seems to listen well to you,” he noted approvingly.
