She’d worked so hard not to disappoint him further since the debacle five years ago, but in this, her father was very, very wrong.
“You must forgive Fionn.” Una’s mother had drawn herself away from her husband in a way that said she wasn’t sure she had done so though. “But sacred mates are so rare among our people we forget their importance in the face of simple survival.”
Bryant nodded his understanding. “You mate to procreate rather than enjoy the sacred bond. Many among the Faol believe they must do the same.”
“Which is not to say that our matings are of no importance,” Mòrag stated firmly.
“You and Fionn . . .” Bryant prompted.
“We are not sacred mates, but we were still blessed with a child. For that, I will always be grateful.” Her mother gave Una a look filled with warmth and love.
“Every child is a gift,” Bryant said with that way he had, like he was certain of the truths in his world, and anyone who might disagree could be made to see the error of his or her ways. “My own parents are sacred mates.”
“Did they have many children then?” Mòrag asked wistfully.
“Four that lived out of childhood.”
“That is a blessing indeed.”
“So my father says. Mum isn’t so sure when we are tracking dirt on her recently cleaned floors with our big muddy feet.”
“You are all male then?”
“Oh, nay. I have an older brother and two younger sisters, both hellions truth be told, and more trouble by far than either of us boys, to hear my mother tell it. Though one has married and is her husband’s headache now. Though she’s given us my precious niece, who has the entire family trained to her bidding.”
Una found a smile coming to her face. “How old is the wee one?”
“Two summers and full of energy beyond us all.” Bryant’s eyes glowed when he spoke of his family.
“You must miss them terribly.”
“Aye.”
“And yet you have made your home here.” It was beyond her understanding.
“The repatriation of the Éan will not come without sacrifice. It seems only fair those begin with the Faol, considering the cost your people have already paid over the years.”
“Repatriation—” Fionn began in a tone that said they were all in for a rant of extraordinary proportions.
Mòrag determinedly interrupted without a single blush. “Una cares for the children of our tribe, you know.”
“That is a commendable contribution to make to your clan.”
“I should be a warrior,” Una admitted with the shame she always felt. “I am an eagle.”
“You are perfect as you are,” her mother staunchly refuted.
But her father remained silent, his expression showing neither approval nor disdain for his only offspring. He was still clearly angry over the concept of the Éan and Faol reuniting.
“Our women are not trained in warfare,” Bryant mused. “If they were, I’m not sure our laird would not be a woman.”
Mòrag and Una laughed softly at what was clearly meant to be a joke, but her father frowned. “A woman should always be trained to protect herself.”
“On that we agree. Balmoral women are taught to hunt small game and most fathers teach their daughters simple defense, but life among the clans is different than it is for you here in the forest.”
“Different,” her father derided. “That’s one word for it.”
Bryant didn’t look in the least offended, just smiled slightly. “I know you think little of being civilized and I must admit that the Balmoral are far less so than other clans.”
“Hmmph.” Her father gave his favorite answer when he had nothing to add.
“Do you never come down to the village?” Bryant asked Una. “I have not seen you there.”
The slight emphasis he gave to the word there appeared unnoticed by her parents, but Una felt it deep inside. They shared a secret, an intimacy easily equal to that of their kisses.
“I usually come down daily.” But she’d been afraid to come down with the wolves there.
Besides, her father had forbidden her.
Fionn frowned. “She doesn’t need to be down in the village with strange soldiers running amok.”
“We are hardly running amok and surely after a month, not nearly so strange to you any longer?”
“You’re a wolf. You’ll always be strange,” her father pronounced, but without his usual heat.
“I’ve missed my daily visits with my daughter,” her mother said with a plaintive look at first Fionn and then Una.
Guilt suffused Una. She’d kept away from her mother because of her own fear, both of the wolves and of upsetting her father when she knew she’d given up all right to do so.
And deep inside, where she never let others see, she had been beyond terrified she would meet Bryant only to discover her sojourns on the spirit plane had all been in her imagination.
“I will come to see you tomorrow,” Una promised her mother.
Mòrag smiled, patting her arm. “I would like that.”
“Hmmph.” Her father contributed, but it was not a denial.
Una let a tremulous smile curve her lips.
“Perhaps I will see you as well,” Bryant said.
“Why would you want to?” Una blurted out before thinking how the words might sound.
But Bryant didn’t laugh, or even smile. His masculine countenance had turned entirely serious. “I believe you know.”
“I . . .” But she did not know what to say.
She did not want to tell her parents about the trips to the Chrechte sacred place. They would worry. Besides, had he not realized yet, she was not the same person here as she was there?
“What are you talking about?” her father demanded.
“In this case, I believe the particulars are between your daughter and me.” Bryant’s expression showed no chance of being moved.
“Nonsense. She is mine to protect and care for.”
“Until she is mated.”
“She’s not mated yet,” her father said in a tone Una had never heard from him before.
She stared at him, but he was busy glaring at Bryant.
“Una?” her father prompted without looking away from the other man.
“I don’t know.” The lie tasted sour on her tongue, but the truth would burn worse.
Bryant’s frown of disappointment made Una’s stomach twist.
She didn’t lie. Not anymore. Not so she could sneak out of the safety of their forest, nor for any other reason. And now this man, who knew her better than even her own parents, believed she was a cowardly deceiver.
But he could not possibly understand. She owed her parents not to cause them any further worry or distress. They could not know her Chrechte nature had drawn her into the spirit world, for she knew not what.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she reiterated stubbornly, ignoring the stain the words left behind on her soul.
“You’ll figure it out,” Bryant promised before taking his leave of her parents, with more polish than the “less civilized” Balmoral should be able to accomplish.
SIX
Bryant watched Fionn’s hut surreptitiously while he and Donnach dressed their kill from their early morning hunt.
Una had said she would come to visit her mother today, but he didn’t know when that might be. They had not met on the dream plane the night before.
She called it the spiritual plane, was convinced they were not sharing a dream. He hadn’t been sure it wasn’t merely his own nighttime imaginings right up until he’d met her at the feast the night before.