‘I overheard them saying they’d held a sword to your son’s throat and threatened his life, but your story never varied,’ Sandulf said. ‘Thank you for keeping quiet and protecting Lady Ceanna in your own way.’
Urist stood up a bit straighter. ‘I was right to get that body, but I was wrong about who was going to attack us. I thought this here Northman would, except now they say he is your husband and that means he will be my lord soon. But that Feradach was thoroughly bad.’
‘I hope my father lives for some time yet. And I am grateful...’
‘And I didn’t betray your man neither. I could have done, but I didn’t. My loyalty, my lady, does belong to you.’
‘Your delay assisted us both times,’ Sandulf said in Pictish and held out his hand. ‘Shall we put the past behind us?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you spoke my language? You are one of the good ones.’
‘Remember that,’ Ceanna said, fixing Urist with her gaze. She did not fully trust the man, but what he had done had certainly helped them. ‘My husband is one of the good ones and I want no more trouble from you.’
Urist went running off, shouting about how Lady Ceanna’s new husband was a good Northman.
Sandulf controlled his features. He was under few illusions that the people who lived here would accept him if not for Ceanna. In time, he hoped... He dragged his mind away. The future stretched out uncertainly before him.
‘Your lady is far more of an important personage than I first realised. You’ve done well, Brother,’ Danr said in an undertone. ‘I assumed she was some woman you picked up on your travels. Pretty enough in her own way, but...’
Some woman. Like one of his faceless women? Sandulf pitied his older half-brother. He didn’t understand the difference. Ceanna had ruined him for other women. He now totally understood Brandt’s overwhelming anger at Ingrid’s death. He hated to think how he’d behave if such a tragedy had befallen Ceanna. But what he felt for Ceanna was far too new and overwhelming to be confessed to his brother.
‘I realise what you are saying,’ he said when he trusted himself to speak. ‘You made a mistake. Ceanna is far more than some woman. She is my wife, my Skadi.’
‘A force to be reckoned with.’
‘That she is.’ Sandulf watched how she stopped to talk to people and allowed herself to be enveloped in a variety of hugs as she started towards the fortress.
He had thought it would be a relief to be able to give Ceanna’s protection over to someone else, but a huge hole opened in his insides. He wasn’t ready to give it up yet. He wanted to be her hero, the one who gave her everything her heart desired, and it frightened him. He had nearly caused her death today. It was his brother’s actions which had saved her, not his. He needed to remember that he did not deserve her yet.
Chapter Fourteen
Ceanna tried to concentrate on the little things which needed to be done, rather than the enormity of what had happened. Sandulf had narrowly escaped with his life. Her body still shook from the memory of that man’s hands about Sandulf’s throat. And then the sight of the naked sword heading towards her. Danr had been correct when he predicted that she would require his help.
Easier not to think about what could have happened by ordering the townspeople to bury the bodies and bind her stepmother. Little things. When she could do no more, she started towards Dun Ollaigh with Sandulf and his brother. Her stepmother, flanked by Bertana’s husband and another man, followed along behind.
‘Do you think the guards will be loyal to you or to your stepmother?’ Sandulf asked as they neared the gate. His words were oddly formal as if he was still embarrassed about her earlier outburst where she’d offered him her heart and he’d refused it.
‘I will deal with it whatever happens.’ Ceanna balled her fists and concentrated on putting one foot firmly in front of the other. Even saying the words out loud made her feel more confident. She hadn’t time to waste on dreams or wishes. She had to concentrate on what she could accomplish. ‘The people of Dun Ollaigh deserve better than what they currently have. I alone can rectify that.’
She kept her head up. She was done with begging anyone for love. Her heart ached for him, but his did not ache for her. She could not force him to think she was indispensable.
‘You alone?’
‘I am developing a plan as we speak.’
‘You and your plans.’
Ceanna stopped abruptly. Sandulf had to see that she could make a difference here. Coming back had taught her that she’d been mistaken—she was far from alone. The townspeople trusted her to help them. And they had helped her once they realised what had been happening. They loved her, even if he had no true feelings for her. ‘This one worked, didn’t it?’
He gave a smile which made her insides melt. She stiffened her spine. He didn’t need her love and he didn’t want it.
‘Danr, staying hidden until the last heartbeat, was a master stroke.’
Danr laughed. ‘Sandulf, you are married to a woman without a romantic bone in her body and who is more like your Aunt Kolga than Ingrid. Do you remember how you swore you’d never marry anyone like her? You were always going to marry Ingrid’s lookalike.’
The laughter died from Sandulf’s eyes. ‘My wife is nothing like my aunt.’
‘I didn’t mean any offence.’ Danr held up his hands. ‘It is Kolga who was the one who was always thinking ahead and making plans for Maerr, according to my late mother. A practical person rather than a dreamer.’
Ceanna hated the stab of envy which sliced through her. Danr was right—she was practical.
