Page 54 of Connal

“I know staying here will only make the situation get worse. I’ve tried to convince Connal, but he’s determined to do things his way. I’m also a little…weak where he’s concerned.” She sighed. “Once I’m gone he’ll see this was the best solution.”

Jamaran stood, and offered her a hand to help her to her feet. “’Twill take a day to sail to the mainland. Meet me here after sunset. Bring a warm cloak, a large waterskin, and some food for yourself.”

“Thank you, Commander.” She watched him wade into the water and swim off, her emotions more anxious than relieved. “Did you hear all that, Captain?”

“No, for then I should report such to the laird.” Nyall came out of the shadows and walked down to stand on some stones beside her. “How fares your belly on the water?”

“Much better on it than drowning in it. Not that I intend to travel by boat anywhere.” She touched his arm. “Thank you for doing this. I suspect you’re both going to get a lot of grief because of me.”

The captain moved his shoulders. “’Tis naught compared to what you’ll endure if the druids cannae return you.” He looked down at her. “You should reconsider staying on Caladh. ’Tis a hard life for a female among those on the mainland. Mortals there oft endure famine, plague and war. Viking raiders still come to burn villages and enslave the helpless. Should you escape the scourges, you’ll grow old quickly, toiling from dawn to dusk––and the druids, they dinnae wed outsiders. You’ll spend your life alone.”

“Goodness, maybe I should have accepted your offer.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I’m kidding. Try to be a little optimistic, please. I’m a smart, resourceful woman, and the druids seem to know what they’re doing. By this time next week I’ll probably be planning lessons at my dining room table while I talk to realtors and overdose on coffee.” She saw how he was looking at her. “Or I would, if I was planning to leave the island at sunset, which I’m definitely not going to do.”

“Take care, my lady, that you may live with whatever you plan,” he told her.

Connal came to the great hall for the evening meal, but had no interest in food. As Meg piled platter after platter of food before him all he could do was stare at the empty seat between Duncan and Shaw. He then waited for his men to at least make their daily reports, but everyone at the table seemed to be ignoring him.

“Do I become a spirit, that my chieftains and healer shallnae look upon me?” he finally asked.

Duncan met his gaze. “You’re no’ a spirit, my lord.”

“You but act as one,” Shaw said, draining his goblet and placing it back on the table with slightly more force than was necessary. “A blind, deaf, eejit spirit who shall go on haunting your bed chamber for all eternity.” He got to his feet, bellowed for some guards, and headed out to the lists.

Fletcher appeared with a cup of brew, which he placed before Connal before he regarded the other men. “’Tis good at times, my mortal weakness. I neednae look upon anyone I dinnae wish see.”

Connal surged to his feet. “I’m the laird.”

“Aye, but today you’re an arse as well.” The seneschal sniffed as he stalked off.

The senior chieftains all finished their meals at that moment and departed, leaving him alone with Duncan, who seemed intent on crumbling a bannock one morsel at a time.

“Tell me,” he said to the healer, resigning himself to another gentle scolding for whatever he’d done to outrage the men.

“What possessed you to forbid Valerie leave the island?” Duncan demanded, angrier than Connal had ever seen him. Before he could reply he shook his head. “The lady, she didnae wish come here. She’s accepted all that’s happened, and asked naught of us in return. She’s offered her help time and again, and no’ just to me. She’s been warm and kind, and only desires return to her home. You ken the druids shallnae harm her. Indeed, if they cannae send her back, they’d care for her and see she wants for naught. Only you forbid her go.”

“I cannae protect her on the mainland,” Connal countered.

The healer dropped the oatcake and rose to his feet. “She’s no’ yours to protect, you great addled eejit.”

He watched Duncan stomp out of the hall, unable to accept that his gentlest brother had just shouted at him. What had Valerie said to turn all the men against him? Had she wept prettily and accused him of using her for his own pleasure? For the woman he’d loved last night had not been in the slightest unwilling.

Connal left the hall without eating, brushing by Meg as she offered to bring him a different meal. As he passed his guards the men averted their gazes and offered only the barest acknowledgement of his presence. At the gates the guards moved with insulting slowness to raise the portcullis to permit him pass. When he reached the walking labyrinth he stopped and looked back at the stronghold.

I’ll stay with you.

He could only blame Valerie for this muddle. She had promised him that when he’d offered to protect her, but now she wished leave him. She’d spent the night waking his desires and pouring bliss through him, but she refused to wed him. She hadn’t resisted when he’d seduced her again. She’d shown him a glimpse of a new life with a woman to cherish, and then accused him of still being in love with Joana.

It’s no’ her fault, any more than ’twas my wife’s.

Connal began walking the stone path, his thoughts clearing. All the empty months he’d idled away while mourning Joana weighed on him; he’d left the clan to fend for themselves. Doubtless that was also the reason Merrick had chosen to corner him over Valerie. The Finfolk king had always been a friend of sorts, yet for the last year he’d ignored him while wallowing in his own pain.

Since Valerie had come to Caladh the pain of loss had eased. Indeed, if he were honest with himself it had all but gone.

He imagined Joana beside him, although she had never walked the path with him. She would wear a hat to protect her fair skin against the sun, and a heavier gown and shawl because she easily grew cold. Her small hand she’d tuck inside his elbow, and she’d tug on his arm whenever he forgot to shorten his strides to match hers.

I love you, Husband.

His wife had loved him, of that much Connal was certain. From her first greeting to her final farewell, Joana had always smiled upon him. Affection had glowed in her eyes. Although it had been no easy thing, she had left her family in Aberdeen to wed him and become the mistress of Dun Ard. She had never complained about being separated from her kin and friends, nor ever once voiced a desire to return to her old life. He had only ever seen her content and happy, and took pleasure in believing she was exactly that.