‘Where is this Brother Mattios, Aunt? You’ve spoken of him several times. I should like to meet him, this man who would tell you if a stranger visited, who arrived about the time my husband was told this Lugh the assassin would have arrived.’
‘He is away on some business for the monastery. Nothing for you to be concerned about.’ She tapped the comb against her teeth. ‘I had thought he was being overly cautious about something, but...he may have been right. Secrets can harm, my dear, and your new husband has far too many.’
Ceanna could scarcely contain her frustration. ‘What was this Brother Mattios right about? You are the one keeping secrets, Aunt, not Sandulf.’
Her aunt cleared her throat. ‘Brother Mattios predicted an assassin, a Northman, would come to harm some people I care about.’
‘Whom do you fear he wishes to kill? You?’
‘The royal children, the ones who have been here since King Aed’s murder,’ the young nun burst out and then clapped her hands over her mouth.
‘There are reasons why I enforce the rule of silence, Sister. You gave your oath on the relics.’
Ceanna examined the rushes. Her aunt was also keeping her share of secrets. She was hiding the late King’s sons here in the monastery! She should have seen it before—the increased guards and her aunt’s reluctance to speak. ‘You’re the one responsible for keeping the missing sons of Aed hidden.’
‘How could I refuse a dying kinsman’s wish?’
‘Where are the sons of Aed now? With this paragon of virtue who fears an assassin from the North?’
‘Under Brother Mattios’s care. In a place of safety. Where they should have gone in the first place, had I not listened to Giric, the Regent. He wanted them to take the tonsure in due course—a noble ambition. And I thought why not here? It would bring honour to this house. Brother Mattios agreed with me, but then...’
Ceanna went cold. Taking the tonsure would ensure neither boy could make a claim for the kingdom. There was more to this than her aunt wanted to say. ‘He has taken them to my stepmother and his brother Feradach, hasn’t he? It is not just Dun Ollaigh they desire. They’re going to use them as counters to gain control of the entire kingdom.’
‘You do like to spin your fantasies, Ceanna,’ her aunt said, but Ceanna did not miss the troubled look crossing her brow.
Her aunt then deftly turned the subject towards what Ceanna might expect during the wedding night, which was a marked change from her earlier attempts to persuade Ceanna to put aside her husband of only a few hours. What was going on?
‘Lie back and allow the man to have his way. It is the most practical advice I have heard on the subject,’ she said, reaching the end of her recital. ‘It worked with my late husband, not that he lasted long. He caught a chill and died a month after our marriage.’
Ceanna forced a smile. There was little point in explaining that she had already had this lecture from her stepmother. Her aunt had made the process sound even less appealing than her stepmother had. Ceanna put her hand on her stomach and thought about the way Sandulf made her feel. His touch was very different from Feradach’s.
The noise grew from the corridor. ‘Your bridegroom arrives. Brother Malcom’s news obviously has not sent him on his way. I can’t say I don’t wish he had left in pursuit of this phantom assassin. But if you change your mind, cry out. I shall check the sheet in the morning.’ Her aunt and the young nun swept from the room.
Sandulf entered with Vanora at his side. The dog quickly settled in a corner and closed her eyes.
‘I felt it best if she remained with us.’
Ceanna kept her back straight and tried not to look at the bed or think about what needed to pass between them. The rush lamps her aunt had left gave off a weak flickering light, causing strange shadows to dance on the rough plastered walls. ‘You did right. Vanora frets if she is outside at night. She won’t move a muscle now until morning.’
A warmth started in her loins, driving all thoughts about politics and the mysterious Brother Mattios from her mind. Ceanna pressed her hands against her eyes and tried to look anywhere but at him, except inevitably her gaze went back to his broad shoulders and how his chest tapered down to a trim waist.
She had little idea of his expectations about this sudden marriage. She had to hope that he had not done this out of pity. She had to do something to make her marriage more than simply one of convenience.
She wasn’t a prospective holy maid any longer, nor the prospective heiress to a large fortress to be married off at her stepmother’s whim, she had become someone else. She had become a wife, Sandulf’s possession, someone she hoped Sandulf would see as indispensable to his quest. She tightened her jaw. She could do it—she could become that woman. He had saved her from being murdered at Feradach’s hands after their wedding, so she could find the assassin Sandulf sought and then surely he would have to see that they could have the sort of marriage she’d dreamed of. She could twist herself into becoming that person far easier than being a holy maid.
‘You seem concerned about something,’ he said, breaking the silence before she had worked out her scheme of how she was going to accomplish this. ‘I take it you know about the failure to discover Lugh. Brother Malcolm took delight in informing me about it. The fool seemed to think I would want to leave and annul the marriage. I refrained from hitting him, but I came close.’
Ceanna stifled a relieved laugh. ‘I can well imagine.’
‘Tomorrow I will decide on my next course. Tonight—’ he laced his fingers through hers ‘—tonight is for other things. Has your
