Page 74 of A Constant Blaze

“Bastard,” she said and mounted her own horse unaided.

This time Malcolm could laugh with genuine joy as he grinned up at Bernard de Brus and offered his hand.

“I see we weren’t necessary after all.” The Norman seemed disappointed.

“You might have been. At all events, I’m grateful.” His roaming gaze found Muiredach and Tomas unexpectedly among the soldiers. “Where is Mairead?” he asked with sudden alarm.

“Safe where we left her and Astrid.”

“Then I think,” Malcolm said, trying not to sway as he dragged himself up behind Halla, “that it’s time we went home.”

Chapter Eighteen

Avoiding settlements seemeda good idea until a more serious wind sprang up and the rain came on as if it meant to stay. Malcolm dismounted and led them along the Clunie Water toward Doldencha, but well before the village, he began tearing back foliage and peering beneath tree roots until, with a grunt of satisfaction, he halted.

“I knew I’d been here before,” he said. “I sheltered in this cave once with my brother.”

The cave was big enough to shelter all of them. Even better, it was clearly well used by travelers, who’d left a pile of dry firewood. The house guards tied up the horses where they could crop leaves and grass, and then built the fire at the cave mouth, which was a trifle smoky, but dried out the damp clothes and kept them warm.

They ate the last of the food from the priory and settled down to sleep—except Mairead, who, still wide awake after the day’s adventures, didn’t feel remotely tired. She told Tomas she would take his watch and wake him if she heard anything or if she began to feel sleepy.

Gratefully, Tomas lay down beside his fellow on the other side of the cave, leaving Mairead to gaze into the fire’s glow, and through the smoky cave mouth to the dark river. She could hear the rain splashing into it, and pattering onto the ground above. It was a pity she couldn’t smell much more than smoke and burning wood, for she loved the sweet scents of wet land.

Behind her, in the cave, all was silent, save for the low murmur of the Lord and Lady of Ross talking together, until even that died away. Mairead smiled into the glow of the fire. It was strange how glad she could be for Malcolm, and even for Halla, and yet still ache with yearning.

A movement behind her made her glance around. Muiredach, stretching out from his bedroll on the cave floor, dropped a blanket around her shoulders, then dragged his own with him as he pulled himself over beside her.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he murmured.

She shrugged, gathering the blanket gratefully around her. “Why aren’t you?”

“I was watching you,” he said unexpectedly.

She glanced at him. “To see if I’d fail in my watch duties?”

“No. I was wondering why you smiled.”

She smiled again. “So was I.”

“Then…” He jerked his head to the back of the cave, where Malcolm and Halla slept very close together. Or at least, she assumed they did. She hadn’t looked. “…their reunion does not hurt you?”

“Not as I thought it might. It seems…right.” She held his gaze. “And you, Muiredach the harpist?”

“In the ten years I’ve known her, I don’t believe she ever loved anyone but him. Her friendship just gave me a reason to stay. I like her family, her home.”

“Perhaps that is what we each truly desired. Home. Whereisyour home?”

He smiled, so clearly used to not answering that she was sure he wouldn’t. “Across the sea in Ireland. Or at least, it was. My family tore itself apart for power over a tiny kingdom far smaller than the earldom of Ross. I grew tired of being a pawn, a weapon in their quarrels, and so I left.” He smiled deprecatingly. “I was no loss to anyone, being always more poet than soldier.”

“And yet it was you who took down Fergus’s scout.”

“I was trained as a prince. Even I couldn’t forget all of it.”

“You intrigue me, Prince Muiredach.”

“If you call me that again, I’ll have you imprisoned in the tallest tower.”

“What happened to your father’s kingdom?”

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