A muscle in Sandulf’s jaw twitched and Ceanna knew he was close to erupting.
‘I would suggest you do that straight away, Aunt.’
‘I wish to finalise plans for your impending nuptials. I won’t be distracted with tales of a murderer.’
‘I will speak of nothing until you investigate this man’s claim.’
Ceanna’s gaze warred with her aunt’s. Her aunt was the first to look away.
‘Very well, I will have my scribe look through the rolls to see if someone named...’
‘Lugh, son of Aidan.’ Sandulf gestured with his hand. ‘It is all on the vellum. I’m given to understand that he is here and has been here for at least eighteen months.’
Her aunt retrieved the vellum and looked at it more closely. ‘I will see what can be done as it is Annis of Glannoventa who asks. It won’t take very long, but I must assure you that I know of no man with that name here. If he is indeed as evil as this document suggests, then he must answer for his crimes.’
‘Sandulf Sigurdsson will be willing to wait until you have made your enquiries.’
‘We will speak further about your future, Ceanna.’ Her aunt nodded and left the room.
‘I wanted to do things differently,’ Sandulf said in a low voice. ‘Your aunt has taken against you.’
Ceanna raised a brow. ‘My aunt wouldn’t listen to a Northman. You saw. She barely glanced at the piece of vellum you shoved under her nose. Something is wrong here, something I can’t quite put my finger on.’
‘Do you think she will actually check the rolls?’
‘My aunt is a stickler for correctness. If she says she will do a thing, she does it.’
‘But...’
‘Men from the North burned down this monastery six years ago. They tried again last summer.’
‘I’ve never done anything against this place and I’ve every intention of saving them from harm. Lugh is a ruthless killer, Ceanna. I’ve seen his work.’
There was something in his voice which made her pause. ‘Are you keeping something from me?’
His gaze slid away from hers. ‘I guessed they’d be waiting for you. This is the worst place you could have gone to. I should have said something days ago. Given you the choice.’
Ceanna examined the rushes. ‘I had to try and I wouldn’t have listened to you anyway. I miscalculated my stepmother’s closeness to my aunt.’
‘Your aunt won’t allow you to become a nun. She won’t believe you are a holy maid. You allowed her to think you and I wish to marry.’
‘I needed some time. I will explain that she made an error in her assumptions. I will find a way to resist being returned to Dun Ollaigh. If I don’t, I’m sure I will not see next spring.’
‘Marry me.’
The words hung in the air. Ceanna was certain she’d misheard. He was asking her to marry him! Not because he had any feelings for her, but because he thought the alternative would be her death. If he’d truly wanted to marry her, why had he waited until she had no hope left?
‘Marry you? Is this a serious offer?’
‘I can take a heavy hint.’ His voice deepened to a husky note. ‘I will not allow you to be sacrificed for your aunt’s ambition or your stepmother’s inclination. I saw what happened to Urist’s caravan. Someone is searching for you, Ceanna. I gave you my word that I would protect you until you reach safety and I will. We both know you are not safe here. Marriage to me will protect you.’
She ran her tongue over her lips and tried to blot out the horrible image of the mutilated corpse. Sandulf was right. Someone had tried to kill her and they would try again. That someone could be related to the assassin he hunted, a little voice reminded her. ‘You want to marry me to offer me protection? What do you get out of it?’
‘This.’ He leant forward and brushed her mouth with his. She moaned slightly in the back of her throat and he deepened the kiss. Her hands went about his neck and she clung on, drinking in his mouth, revelling in the way his tongue moved against hers. Standing like this, she could almost believe that he actually wanted her rather than that he had been forced into it.
He lifted his mouth from hers. ‘Will you?’
Ceanna ran her tongue over her aching lips. Her mind focused on the bow shape of his mouth. The many reasons why she should refuse circled her brain. He had not really answered her question about what he hoped to gain from marrying her. There was no guarantee that she could ever reclaim Dun Ollaigh after her father died. ‘I... I...’
‘What is going on here?’
Ceanna started to move away, but Sandulf’s arm twined about her waist and hauled her against him. Her body hit his hard planes with a thud.
Behind her aunt, she recognised several of her father’s guard. Men who had supposedly been going on an expedition several days before the wedding. Sandulf was right—someone had betrayed her...or perhaps they had just anticipated her escape attempt. She should have known that it had been far too easy.
‘Lady Ceanna and I intend to marry today,’ Sandulf said in a commanding voice when a faint strangled squeak emerged from Ceanna’s throat. ‘Her wish. My desire. My only question for you is—do we marry with the blessing of her church or do we marry in the fashion of my people?’
‘What say you, Ceanna?’ her aunt asked pointedly. ‘I thought this man was a stranger you picked up on the road. That this foolishness about marrying him was a ruse to compel me to keep you here as one of my flock. What evidence do you have of his ability to defend Dun Ollaigh in its time of need? Can he even use a sword?’
Her aunt made it sound as though Sandulf was akin to the dirt under her shoe.
Ceanna leant against Sandulf and drew strength. As far as marriage proposals went, it had
