A horn blared throughout the village bringing them to an abrupt halt. The wailing sound alerted of an approaching troop.
“Dermid, take her inside and do not leave her side,” Cree ordered.
Dawn shook her head and held tight to her husband’s arm, letting him know she intended to remain with him.
“Do not be stubborn,” Cree scolded.
Dawn tightened her hold on him, letting him know she had no intentions of leaving his side.
Cree relented only because he knew what she did. No one could protect her as he could. He thought to send Dermid to his warriors with orders, but it was not necessary. They would know what to do.
Chieftain Newlin came running toward them. “It’s Torin, the warlord from the isle of Norham.”
Cree was aware of the warlord. The clan Norham had occupied the sizeable isle for endless generations. They earned their reputation as fierce warriors and fought for those who did not threaten their sovereignty, which was presently the king, though the clan also had ties to the Northmen. The clan’s only allegiance was to those who did not threaten them.
“What would Lord Torin be doing here?” Cree asked concerned.
An anxious look sparked in Newlin’s eyes as he shook his head. “I have no idea, though he does have ties to the Northmen, so perhaps it has something to do with Lord Bhric.”
Cree’s warriors began to line the pathways to the keep and a group of ten were already spread out behind him and Dawn, Dermid standing directly behind Dawn, ready to snatch her away at Cree’s command. But they would need to get past Beast first, since he sat in front of Dawn, his head up sniffing the air, his ears back, and a soft growl rumbling low. His wife was well-protected.
Cree tucked his wife against him as he watched Torin approach and what he saw, he did not like.
CHAPTER 13
Torin of Clan Norham was clothed in furs and leather rather than a plaid. That signified he paid allegiance to no one and that could make him dangerous since he was loyal to none. He did what was best for him and cared about no other. But could Cree blame him when promises were so often ignored, and loyalty meant little to those who ruled.
The man had good features, the kind that would attract women and though there was a leanness to him, there was also strength. The way he sat his horse also spoke of confidence and height not often seen, though he by no means matched Cree’s height. His dark hair reached his shoulders and fell carelessly around his head and his dark eyes were intense, taking everything in around him though he displayed not a spark of intimidation, a sign of a man in command.
Torin brought his horse to a halt not far from Cree and Dawn, though focused his attention on Newlin.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Lord Torin?” Newlin asked.
“A few days of rest if it would not be an imposition,” Torin requested.
“I have a small room in the keep I can have made ready for you and your men can camp near Lord Cree’s men,” Newlin said.
Torin turned curious eyes on Cree. “The infamous Cree, a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“What brings you this way?” Cree more demanded than asked and a quick narrowing of the man’s eyes told him he was not at all pleased with the demand.
“A personal matter,” Torin said.
“It matters not,” Newlin was quick to say, fearful the two powerful warriors would get into an altercation. “You are welcome here.”
“Lord Bhric told me as much and I am glad to see he was right,” Torin said.
Cree thought otherwise. Had Lord Bhric sent Torin here for a specific reason or had the man taken it upon himself to stop and see what Bhric had taken on with his marriage to Tavia? Either way he would keep an eye on the man.
“Do you know when Lord Bhric will arrive?” Newlin asked anxiously.
“He has been delayed, but should arrive within about a week’s time,” Torin said.
“Wonderful,” Newlin said, though he did not sound as enthusiastic as his remark. “You must be hungry and thirsty after your journey. Come and join us in the keep for food and drink while your men camp.”
Dawn understood it was best if she left the men to talk. Besides, she was feeling the need to rest. Cree would tell her all that was said later. She let her husband know her intentions with a few gestures as soon as they entered the Great Hall.
“You feel well enough,” Cree asked, guilt continuing to poke at him for bringing her along, but then Old Mary told him she was necessary. How, he had yet to see.
She nodded and gestured she was tired with her hands clasped in prayer fashion and pressed to the side of her head.