Sandulf raised his brow and Ceanna belatedly realised that she’d been shouting. She continued in a calmer voice. ‘I hoped to persuade my aunt to accept me as a young woman who knows her own mind, someone who truly does wish to take the veil instead of a silly girl who ran away from an important strategic alliance.’
‘You fear your aunt will see through the ruse immediately.’
The weight on Ceanna’s chest lifted. ‘I don’t fear marriage in the abstract, Sandulf, but I do fear losing my life.’
‘You remain under my protection until you reach a safe haven.’
‘Why, my gallant warrior, are you making an offer of marriage?’ she teased with a strangled laugh, hating how her heart leapt. They were friends, not lovers. He’d made that perfectly clear.
His eyes slid away from her. ‘It won’t come to that.’
‘No, it won’t.’ Ceanna’s heart sank. He had a life elsewhere, a family, dreams, ambitions, to which he would return after he completed this quest to find his sister-in-law’s murderer. He’d been her companion for the journey, not the hero who was going to save her future. ‘I’ll manage, Sandulf. I’ll find a way.’
He put his hand on her arm. Warmth radiated through her. She turned to move away, but tumbled into his gaze instead. ‘What do you need me to do?’
She wet her parched lips. What she needed was his touch. ‘My desires are not important; only my life. This place must be more congenial than it appears to my nervous eyes.’
He raised a brow. ‘The friar seemed less than keen about Vanora.’
At the sound of her name, Vanora thumped her tail. It sounded like a drum in the all-pervading quiet of the room.
‘My aunt will find a place for her once she understands how useful Vanora is.’
He shrugged. ‘You’re the one who knows her. I have some misgivings, but I’m willing to be wrong.’
Something was clearly going on and she was beginning to doubt whether fleeing to her aunt had been a good idea after all. Could she beg him to take her away from here? Where could she go? But instead all she said was, ‘My aunt will do what is right. She is a stickler for order and tradition.’
‘And here I was, thinking you delight in creating chaos. How will you get on here?’
‘That is unfair. What chaos have I created?’
‘You’ve turned my life upside down.’
‘Normally I’m very restrained and orderly. Ask anyone.’ His answering smile warmed her to her toes. ‘But I stand a far better chance of seeing my next birthday here than I would at Dun Ollaigh. Being alive means that some day I might have the chance to fight back against my stepmother’s machinations.’
‘Do you want to spend your life in this place where you will be under the control of your aunt, where you will be on your knees day and night, no freedom to come and go as you please?’
‘Every corner of this abbey hums like a beehive,’ Ceanna said to his chest. She knew it wasn’t an answer, but bringing herself to voice her sudden disquiet was beyond her. Out in the garth she had seen a handful of women toiling in the soil and being chastised for speaking and it made her blood run cold. She knew, despite her earlier bravado, being a nun was the last thing she wanted. ‘Even if it is an awfully silent hive.’ She sighed, but turned abruptly when the door was suddenly thrust open.
‘What is going on here? Ceanna, why are you here, instead of at Dun Ollaigh where you are supposed to be?’ her aunt’s voice thundered from the doorway. ‘The marriage alliance between you and Feradach is of the upmost importance to this family’s continued prosperity, according to your lady stepmother.’
Chapter Nine
At the sound of her aunt’s voice, Ceanna jumped away from Sandulf. Her cheeks burned as if she had been standing in front of a hot cooking fire. Ceanna rapidly straightened the folds of her gown and tried to concentrate. Her aunt’s words confirmed her worst fears. She had failed.
Sandulf gave her an unrepentant look before he stepped away.
‘Aunt.’ Ceanna stuffed the nerves back down her throat and held out her arms. ‘How I’ve longed to see you. Come, do not be stand-offish. Let us hug. I’ve travelled a long way to see you.’
‘Niece, it is really you.’ Her aunt awkwardly caught her to her bosom. Her aunt smelt of wildflowers and incense, but it wasn’t a comforting scent, more overpowering and cloying. ‘I feared for you, child. What were you thinking, coming all this way? You should have sent word that you wished my counsel instead of making the journey on your own.’
‘I needed to see you, Aunt. I wanted to explain in person...why I’ve taken this course.’ The words that she wanted to become a holy maid stuck in her throat. She might have practised the speech many times in her head, but saying the words aloud was impossible. Lying to her aunt was wrong. And in this holy place, too! If she could see any other future, she’d take it, particularly after witnessing the silence the sisters were forced to endure. ‘I wanted your advice on my future.’
Her aunt released her and stepped away. Her face became remote and fearsome. Ceanna sighed inwardly. She’d conveniently forgotten what her aunt could be like—it was her way or no way, her mother used to say.
‘I do hope you’re not going to be tiresome, Ceanna. You know I’ll advocate you doing your duty. Always. Prayerful contemplation—something which
