her and leave.’
‘What I want is to find the men who attacked and bring them to justice.’ Trahern let his own hand drift down to his waist, settling upon the hilt of his sword. ‘If they are among your kinsmen, be assured, I’ll find them.’
Or Morren would. Inwardly, he tensed at the thought of her having to face her attackers. She shouldn’t have to.
‘Our men were not responsible,’ Gunnar insisted. ‘And we’ve already sent men to investigate the settlements nearby.’
‘Why would you? If what you say is true, it’s not your affair.’
‘It is, when my kinsmen are accused of trying to annihilate an Irish clan. The peace between us is fragile enough.’
‘With reason.’
Gunnar shook his head in disgust and pushed the door open. ‘The Ó Reillys trust us to help them. You should do the same.’
He wouldn’t trust a Lochlannach with a dog, but Trahern didn’t say so. As it was, he intended to take Morren and her sister away from this place as soon as possible.
‘I’m beginning to wonder if Gunnar was telling the truth,’ Morren whispered to Trahern, as they shared a meal that night among the other Lochlannach. ‘I haven’t seen any of the men who were there on the night of the attack.’
She’d studied each of the Vikings, but none of the men had the faces that haunted her dreams. The survivors of her clan appeared unconcerned, which reassured her. Enough of her people had seen the raiders with their own eyes, and it was doubtful that the enemy was here.
Even so, she found it hard to relax. She kept searching the unfamiliar faces, the hard knot of fear tight within her stomach, mingled with hunger.
Trahern had hardly touched any of his food. He eyed the Vikings as though expecting them to attack at any moment. ‘I don’t trust them.’
He picked at a bit of fish with his dagger, but his grip remained tight on the weapon. ‘This is the closest Lochlannach settlement, Morren. Someone here was involved.’
His dark insistence sent a chill over her, for a part of her wanted to believe that she might be safe here, with her people.
‘I hope you’re wrong.’ She turned her attention back to the food, his black mood shadowing her own. To distract herself, she finished the remainder of the fish and drank the sweetly fermented mead.
Jilleen sat beside her, hardly speaking at all. Though they had spent several hours together, her sister had remained quiet and had withdrawn inside herself, like a shadow.
Not once did Jilleen make eye contact with anyone, and
Morren realised she’d been wrong to hide with her sister. By isolating both of them, she’d made it even harder for her sister to rejoin the Ó Reilly survivors.
Regrets filled her up inside, but she couldn’t dwell upon them. She had to look after Jilleen and give both of them the best possible life. Their parents were dead, so it fell upon her shoulders to plan their futures.
The very thought was overwhelming. To distract herself, Morren reached for a honey cake that was topped with dried apple slices. The flaky crust melted on her tongue, the apples mingling with the sweetness of the honey. She closed her eyes, licking her fingertips and savouring the intense flavours. It had been so long since they’d had good food.
When Morren opened her eyes, Trahern’s expression had transformed suddenly. His mouth formed a tight line, his grey eyes hooded. He gripped the edge of the low table, and an unexpected flush crossed over her. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing.’ He turned away, and anger lined his face again.
Morren supposed it was his bad mood tainting his enjoyment of the meal. She glanced around at the people and she saw Katla watching her. Though the Norse woman had been infuriated with Trahern earlier, she offered a warm smile, her grey eyes softened with friendliness. She wore a crimson gown with a fawn-coloured apron fastened with golden brooches at the shoulders. A grey shawl hung across her arms.
Katla approached them, her expression contrite. ‘I was upset earlier,’ she apologised. ‘I want to welcome you and your sister to our home. You may stay with us, if you wish.’ A bleakness crossed over the woman’s eyes, as if in memory of the attack. But she forced the smile back again, her eyes resting upon Jilleen. ‘Your sister was glad to see you, I know.’
Morren gave a nod. ‘Thank you for looking after her.’
Katla’s smile grew strained, but she looked upon Jilleen with fondness. ‘She reminds me of my daughter.’
There was pain in Katla’s voice, but Morren didn’t press for answers. It explained why the woman had taken such an interest in looking after Jilleen. Despite the reasons, she was grateful for the woman’s care.
Katla tore off a piece of bread and added it to Jilleen’s plate without asking. Her eyes didn’t miss much, and no doubt she’d noticed the young girl’s thin frame. ‘You should have joined the others sooner,’ Katla scolded gently. ‘It’s not safe for women to be alone.’
Morren hesitated, not knowing what to say. Excuses faltered on her tongue. No one knew what had happened to her on the night of the attack, except Jilleen. And only Trahern knew of her miscarried babe.
‘She had no desire to live among the enemy,’ Trahern interrupted, his tone cool.
Katla uttered a laugh. ‘The enemy, are we? And who provided food and shelter for the Ó Reillys, these four months past? Who sent men to Glen Omrigh every day, helping to clear it out for rebuilding?’
‘Are we expected to believe that you’re overly generous?’ Trahern asked. He didn’t bother to keep the sardonic tone from his voice.
Katla rested her palms on the table, meeting his accusatory look with her own indignant glare. ‘Who are you to doubt us, Irishman?’
To distract Trahern, Morren placed a goblet of mead into his hand. In the midst of the argument, Jilleen had shrunk back, leaving her own food unfinished. She stared down at the table, as though she wanted to disappear.
‘I’ve no reason to trust you,’ Trahern responded. ‘Your people killed the woman I intended to marry.’
Katla’s face turned scarlet. ‘You’re wrong.’ She reached out and snatched his food away. ‘And if you won’t believe that, then you can leave.’
‘Katla,’ another man said softly. He came up behind her and replaced the food. ‘Leave him be.’
From the protective way the man rested his hands upon the woman’s shoulders, Morren suspected he was her husband. Katla didn’t apologise, however, and Trahern stood. He ignored both of them and strode out of the longhouse.
Morren cast a glance at Jilleen, who still hadn’t looked up from her food. ‘Wait here,’ she advised her sister. ‘I’ll be back.’
Trahern’s restless energy, his caged anger, made him a threat to anyone who came too close. Soon enough, someone would provoke him, and she didn’t know if she could calm his
