As they entered the bailey, a dozen fine horses could be seen outside the stable, and Egan would have recognized their owner by their colorful red and green saddlecloths even without the guard’s announcement. He slid down from Raven’s back and handed his reins to a groom before swinging Oriana to the ground.
“Bevan is a cousin,” he explained. “He was close to my father in age, but never his confidant.”
Before Oriana could reply, Bevan exited the inner fortress and came striding toward them. He was as tall a man as Egan and half again as wide. His brown hair was streaked with gray, but he moved with youthful vigor. His deep-set brown eyes gave him a hawkish appearance, and his mouth formed a bitter downward curve.
“Welcome, cousin,” Egan called. “Have all in your party been made comfortable?”
Egan could feel Oriana pulling away, and took a firm grip on her hand to hold her close. Albyn had continued on into the stable with his borrowed mount, and Egan could not blame him for avoiding Bevan, who tended to be difficult even on his better days.
“Aye, as always,” Bevan replied. He halted a few steps away and rested his fists on his hips. “I heard a wild tale about you and Duncan O Floinn and thought you should spend a day or two as king before such foolish brawling takes you. I sent word to the others, and they’ll arrive by the morrow. Is this the fair lass who caused all the trouble?”
“Oh, no,” Oriana gasped, for if Duncan had described her with any accuracy, Bevan would surely know who, and what, she was. The truth might have already reached Garrick’s ears, and then both she and Egan would be in terrible danger.
Egan felt her tremble and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “It was Duncan himself who caused his own misery. If he’s spoken a single word against Oriana, he’ll not live a day longer than it takes me to find him.”
Bevan nodded thoughtfully. “You needn’t search, for I heard only that he’d lost both his horse and sword when the two of you fought over a woman.”
Bevan cocked his head slightly to observe Oriana with undisguised admiration. “I’ll grant that you’re worth a good fight. What’s your clan, lass? I might know your father.”
Egan felt Oriana sway against him and hurriedly cleared his throat. “Oriana lost her parents years ago. She’s part of the Dál Cais now.”
Leaving the stable, Albyn stepped just close enough to notice how pale Oriana had become. Clearly she was not flattered by Egan’s eagerness to include her, and he had a sick feeling something was terribly amiss. He had never cared much for Bevan, but when the man’s gaze swung his way, he greeted him warmly.
“I’ve been away many years, and you may not remember me. I’m Innis’s son, Albyn.”
Bevan appeared to call upon memory for a brief moment, then nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, I remember you well enough. Whatever trouble Egan found as a lad, you were in twice as deep. I trust the Druids have tamed you.”
“They have certainly tried,” Albyn replied, unable to suppress a sly grin.
“You must remain for the ceremony, although it’s doubtful Garrick will assign you any duties.”
“I shall remain as long as Egan has need of me.” With that promise, he turned to Egan. “I should seek Garrick before he is forced to summon me. It would be a mistake to anger him with disrespect.”
“I wish you harbored such qualms about angering me.” Egan shook his head in dismay. “Go and find Garrick. We’ll speak again tonight.”
“I must also beg to be excused,” Oriana interjected quickly, and before Egan could forbid it, she hurried toward the inner fortress with Albyn.
“You know Garrick?” she asked in a hushed whisper.
Albyn held the door for her, but took care to reply before either had entered. “Aye, but that I went elsewhere to study makes my opinion of him plain.”
She had not thought she would ever dare touch a Druid, but his deep regard for Egan made her bold, and she rested her hand lightly upon his sleeve. “I doubt Garrick has improved in any regard while you’ve been away. Take care not to make an enemy of him.”
Albyn’s hand closed over her slender fingers. “You have the most beautiful eyes, and when I look into them, it’s difficult to recall what you’ve said.”
Frightened she had revealed too much, Oriana instantly averted her gaze and raised her gown to start up the winding stair. “I’ll not trouble you then.”
Certain Egan would not approve of a more lengthy conversation, Albyn let her go. She was an extraordinary young woman, and he could not help but wish he had met her first.
Egan found Oriana seated atop his bed combing windblown tangles from her long hair. He hesitated at his door and gestured impatiently. “Come with me. There’s something we must do.”
He had not spent nearly as long with Bevan as Oriana had anticipated, and after laying her comb aside, she rose quite reluctantly. “You have guests. I don’t wish to intrude.”
Egan held his tongue and waited but had nearly lost his tenuous hold on his temper before she crossed the few steps to reach him. He longed to have her do his bidding without constantly questioning his motives, but feared she had lived too long in her own world to follow any man.
“I want to show you my mother’s chamber. It’s not been used since she died, but my father had it kept ready, as though she were expected to return.”
Intrigued, Oriana willingly followed him along the corridor. “How touching, but what must Ula have thought of his lingering devotion to another woman?”