"Nay, I did not ask. What could it matter her why's of lying to me?"
Barr guided Earc to the floor as the man lurched alarmingly. "You won't know until
you learn what they are."
"She said she was afraid," Fionn slurred.
"There. She's a coward." Though the words felt hollow as he said them.
"She's your mate. 'Tis your responsibility to find out what had her so feared." Barr's
tone left no room for argument.
And that was one of the reasons Talorc valued him so as his second: the other
warrior was not afraid to speak his mind when it was needed. Not that he always agreed.
Right now, he wasn't sure what he thought. Except that the table looked damn
comfortable as he slumped forward to rest against it.
After a sleepless night in which Talorc did not return to their bedchamber and
Guaire did not leave it, Abigail returned to the great hall just after sunrise. She'd left
Guaire sleeping on the pallet she'd insisted making with some of the furs from her and
Talorc's bed.
She had a feeling her husband wasn't going to like that, but then he could have
come back and told Guaire the man could go to his own chamber for the night. As it was,
no matter how many times Abigail assured the seneschal she would be all right on her
own, he refused to leave her.
His presence had stopped her from collapsing in sobs. As much as she might have
wanted to do so, she was grateful to him for inadvertently helping her keep her strength
up. Then again, considering how astute the man was, his help might have been entirely
deliberate.
At least she still had one true friend among the Sinclairs.
The stench of stale whiskey assaulted her nose when she was halfway down the
stairs, so she was not wholly unprepared for the sight that met her eyes as she looked up
after reaching the bottom. The soldiers from the night before, every one of them members
of the elite Chrechte, were passed out in various poses of drunken disarray.
Talorc slept slumped over the table, but at least he was not passed out on the floor
like Osgard. And Niall.