The old woman turned her face away.
‘Helping us will ensure Father Callum gets some justice,’ Ceanna said softly. ‘Something which has been denied to him.’
The woman’s skin turned the colour of old parchment. ‘From what your husband has been saying about this killer, those little boys are probably dead. I thought I had been firm in doing my duty, but I have been betrayed. Miserably. In my arrogance, I sent them to their deaths, Ceanna.’
‘Did you know Captain Feradach before this Brother Mattios arrived?’
‘He came to visit...the man who claimed to be Brother Mattios shortly after he arrived from Jarrow. He said that Feradach was his brother. It was why I recommended him for advancement with your father.’
‘I see.’ Ceanna stood up straighter—a lady demanding justice prevail in every sense of the word. ‘You appear to have made a number of grave errors, Aunt. There is every reason to believe this Mattios—or Lugh, as Sandulf calls him—will be headed towards Dun Ollaigh, seeking to use those little boys for his own gain rather than delivering them to their aunt in Éireann as he promised.’
Sandulf ground his teeth. Dun Ollaigh—the one place where she’d be in the most danger. The danger from her stepmother and this Feradach had increased immeasurably. His stomach churned. He wanted her with him, but he had to be sensible. He would fight better knowing that she was safe and that somewhere safe had to be here. He silenced the little voice deep within which protested. Once everything was resolved and he had earned the reward of a better life, then he could return here and start their marriage together properly.
‘Aunt, what say you?’
‘I hadn’t realised the danger,’ the old woman admitted, her body crumpling. ‘I was fooled by his devout prayer and his charm. I was so worried about you and I wanted the boys to be elsewhere. They were very noisy, you see. I missed the peace and quiet.’
Ceanna rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘It is well that I am leaving, Aunt. You would discover I enjoy talking far too much.’
Sandulf firmed his mouth. Ceanna made it sound as if she was going off with him, hunting Lugh. ‘I’ll travel much more swiftly on my own. You should remain here.’
The hurt in Ceanna’s eyes made his insides twist. It was for the best. Her safety above all things. What could he offer her really? Until he’d made peace with his brothers, he could not consider anyone or anything else. He’d been fooling himself earlier.
‘I will go with you,’ Ceanna said. ‘I know Dun Ollaigh and its ways.’
‘You will be safer here. Your aunt understands that now.’
‘Are you already disobeying an order from your husband, Niece?’
‘Aunt, will you excuse us for a brief time? I need to speak with my husband alone. He can be pig-headed at times.’
‘You are the one who was insistent on marrying him.’
‘I know and I have no regrets about that.’
‘Take as long as you like.’
She ushered the sisters and guards out of the scriptorium.
In the silence which followed her aunt’s departure, Ceanna struggled to hang on to her temper. Her insides felt as if they had been torn out. She knew he worried for her safety, but she felt as though he was abandoning her at the first opportunity. Her husband did not think she would be able to contribute anything in the hunt for the assassin.
She firmed her mouth. He wasn’t thinking straight. Seeing that golden Valkyrie had upset him. The terrible look he’d given it had showed her all she needed to know about the state of his heart. He cared for the dead woman far more than he could ever care for her. He’d never made any sort of promises about that. He had promised to be her husband, but he had only ever promised her friendship. She was emphatically not someone he was in love with. The knowledge made her chest ache all the harder because she knew she was rapidly falling in love with him.
‘See the matter from my perspective. I have a duty towards you as your husband.’ He put his hands behind his back. ‘Knowing you remain safe will enable me to fight harder. If you return to Dun Ollaigh, then you put yourself into danger. You wanted to be at the monastery before we arrived here.’
A small part of her knew she had to fight the temptation to remain safe and secure behind the high walls of the monastery. It was what she had set out to do—find sanctuary from her stepmother. She would be safe here, if there was safety in being a prisoner. In the past few days she’d felt more alive than she had done since long before her mother and brother had died.
Ceanna the Indispensable. The words rolled about in her brain again. Sandulf didn’t see her as such yet, but she’d make him see it. ‘You need me, Sandulf. More than ever, you need me.’
A muscle jumped in his jaw and his brows lowered. ‘I don’t need anyone, particularly not you. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with Lugh on my own. When I was growing up, my brothers always told me I was incapable of handling things by myself, even when it was easy to see that I could. You need to remain here and stay safe. It is the best way you can help.’
His words stabbed her, but she kept her back straight.
‘You have only a limited knowledge of Dun Ollaigh or its inhabitants. I have all the knowledge you will need. However, we won’t know what you need until you need it. It is why I must go with you.’
He put a heavy hand under her elbow, but she shook it off with an impatient gesture. ‘I want to keep you safe. Safe
