He had no interest whatsoever in her, and she felt herself relaxing in his presence.
‘You should sleep, as well,’ she offered. ‘It was my fault that your rest was disturbed last night.’
He cast a wary look. ‘You needed someone to watch over you. And there’s no threat from me, I promise.’
When she rolled to the other side of the bed with his cloak shielding her hair, the anxiety that clenched her nerves tight seemed to soften.
Perhaps he really could keep her safe.
Trahern heard the sound of muffled weeping, a few hours before dawn. Morren remained with her back to him, the cloak draped over her. Her shoulders trembled, and his body tensed.
‘Morren?’ he whispered. ‘Are you in pain?’
She remained far away from him, but her sobs grew muffled. ‘A bad dream. That’s all.’
He didn’t know what to say. Words were meaningless after what she’d suffered. It was no wonder nightmares bothered her.
‘And your fever?’
She rolled over to look at him. Her wheat-coloured hair hung against her face, and she looked as though she’d endured a gruelling night. ‘It’s better.’ He didn’t believe her and reached out to touch her forehead.
Morren cowered from him, and he let his hand fall away. A tightness formed within him, that she was unable to bear even a simple touch.
‘I’ll be all right,’ she insisted. ‘We need to find Jilleen today.’
Though her colour had improved, he wanted her to remain abed for at least another day. She might worsen if she pushed herself too hard. ‘I know you’re feeling better, but I’d rather you stayed here. I’ll leave you with food, water and firewood before I search for your sister.’
Morren sent him a steady look. ‘If you go without me, I’ll follow you as soon as you’ve left. She’s my sister, and I need to know that she’s safe.’ With a firm stubbornness, she raised her chin and began to sit up. ‘I’m going to search for her. With or without you.’
Trahern sat up on his side of the bed, suddenly realising that his feet were beneath the sheet. Some time in the middle of the night, Morren had covered them. He hadn’t expected the kindness.
He got up and returned to the bundle of clothing he’d found earlier. From within it, he found an overdress. The colours were dull, the wool coarse and prickly, but the material would keep her warm.
Once he helped Morren to find her sister, he would bring them somewhere safe. Perhaps to another clan, if the Ó Reillys hadn’t yet rebuilt their cashel.
A cold fury spread through his veins once more, as he imagined the devastating attack the Ó Reillys must have suffered. He simply couldn’t understand why the Lochlannach had tried to destroy an entire clan. A cattle raid was one matter, but this killing went beyond all else.
He needed to understand why. And after he’d found his enemies, he vowed to avenge Ciara’s death and bring both Morren and Jilleen to safety.
Picking up his pouch of supplies, Trahern used his knife to slice through the leather. He made crude shoes out of the material, insulating them with straw. He gave Morren one set and offered the laces from his tunic to tie them on. He nodded at his cloak. ‘Wear that. You’ll need it to stay warm.’
‘It’s too cold,’ she argued. ‘You’ll need to use it yourself. And I can use the cloak that was on the bed.’
‘Take both of them. You need to stay warm more than I do.’ When she was about to protest, Trahern picked up the garment and tossed it to her. If he had to fasten it himself, he’d make her wear it.
‘St Michael’s Abbey lies a few miles to the west,’ he continued. ‘We’ll stop there to rest.’
‘There’s no need to stop on my behalf.’ Morren eased to the end of the bed and stood. The woollen clothing hung against her thin body, and Trahern knew in his gut that she would never make it to Glen Omrigh. For that matter, he wasn’t certain she would reach the abbey without collapsing.
He suspected she would push herself beyond all endurance to help her sister. He couldn’t blame her for it. For his own brothers, he’d do the same. It didn’t matter how far or how weakened he was. If a family member needed him, he’d drag his body halfway across Éireann.
‘I’ll arrange to borrow horses from the monks,’ he said, concealing his irritation about losing his own mount, Barra. With luck, he’d get the horse back. ‘That will make it easier on you.’
She seemed to accept it, and started towards the door. Trahern stopped her by offering her a cup of water and food. ‘You’re not leaving until you’ve finished this.’ Though the dried meat wasn’t appetising in the least, the fare was better than nothing. After today, he’d have to hunt for more.
Morren drank and nibbled at the venison. Though she didn’t eat enough, in his opinion, at least it was a start. When they’d finished, he walked alongside her. ‘If you start to feel weak, tell me. We’ll stop and you can rest.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Morren insisted.
Trahern wanted to take her hand, to offer her support, but he knew she’d refuse. They travelled downhill, and he could see her breath in the cold autumn air. Morren stepped carefully through the fallen leaves, grasping at tree trunks for balance.
Her pallor matched the grey sky, and more than once she stumbled. When they reached the edge of the forest, where he’d made his camp two nights earlier, she looked ready to collapse.
‘Do you want to go on?’ he asked.
‘I’ve no choice.’
Her answer didn’t suit him at all. Without asking, he lifted her into his arms. ‘Pretend you’re walking.’
She looked panicked and struggled to get away from him. ‘Put me down.’
‘If I do, you’ll faint. And we’ll travel faster this way.’ They would have to stop at St Michael’s. Already he’d abandoned the idea of travelling to Glen Omrigh. There was no chance Morren could make the journey.
He stopped walking when he saw the tension in her body. ‘I know you don’t want me to carry you. But if you can endure this for another hour, we’ll be at the abbey.’
Her gaze wouldn’t meet his, but she didn’t protest again. Fear was etched within her posture, in the way she tried to distance herself.
She weighed hardly anything, and Trahern found that it was no hardship at all to carry her. How any man could attack a woman as vulnerable as Morren was beyond his comprehension.
She had a face that most men wouldn’t notice at first, soft, with unremarkable features. But her blue eyes surprised him. Although they were weary, there was strength and determination in them, despite her physical weakness.
‘Was the abbey attacked by the Lochlannach?’ he asked. If there were other threats lingering, he needed to know of them.
‘As
