Page 14 of Desire's Ransom
Lady Mor and Friar Brian came into the clearing.
“What’s for supper?” Temair asked.
Lady Mor nodded toward the oak grove as she tied up her lush red hair. “Maelan and Domnall should return soon with somethin’.”
The hunting was good this time of year. With any luck, they’d bring back a brace of rabbits or a deer.
Matronly Sorcha, who had been brewing ale, emerged from the cave, which was almost invisible because of the thick vines hanging over the entrance. An ideal spot for brewing, it also served as a good hideaway. As well as being nearly impossible to find, the interior cavern was large enough to house all twelve members of the woodkern family in comfort.
Of course, at this time of year, they usually slept under or in the trees, taking advantage of the balmy weather and sweet evening air.
Temair liked to curl up with the hounds just outside the mouth of the cave, which was the best vantage point for protecting the camp.
“Has Aife returned yet?” she asked.
Lady Mor and Friar Brian shook their heads.
Plain, quiet, unassuming Aife served as an important connection to the outside world. Armed with a basket of eggs, a bundle of herbs, or a sack of rags, she could steal in and out of thetuathwithout attracting notice.
It had been Aife all those years ago who’d gently informed Temair about the rumors at the tower house and the story her father had made up to cover her disappearance.
Today, Temair had sent Aife to follow up on a rumor about some change afoot in thetuath. Temair guessed it might have something to do with the fact that Lord John of Ireland had only a few months ago become King John of England. Perhaps her father’s bribing of the English nobles was finally going to pay off in the form of extra land for O’Keeffe.
Temair told herself it didn’t matter. She’d left thetuathsix years ago. Even Aillenn had advised her to go and never look back.
But she knew the land and theclannwere hers by rights. There was still a part of her that longed for justice—revenge for her sister and redemption for herself.
Eventually Temair would return to O’Keeffe and claim what was hers. She still had a soft spot for the servants who had shown her empathy and the crofters whom her father had impoverished. But the only true friends she’d ever had in her old life were Bran, Flann, and Aillenn. She’d brought the two hounds with her, and her sister she’d left in death’s arms.
Now that the sun was on its way down, the woodkerns began to return to the encampment from their various enterprises.
Young Fergus and merry Cambeal turned up first. Fergus’s eyes lit up as he boasted about how they’d tricked a pair of cocky lads out of their jeweled daggers. Lady Mor snapped up one of the stolen blades to examine it, confirming that she could pry loose the jewels and sell them at the next fair for a tidy profit.
Next, sour-faced Maelan arrived, mumbling that he’d snared a half dozen fat rabbits for supper. Bald-pated Domnall followed, shouldering a young wild goat he’d speared. The band of outlaws would eat well for a few days.
Just before sunset, black-bearded Ronan marched into the clearing and tossed a small wooden trunk onto the ground. It tipped, spilling out its contents of silver coins.
Young Fergus whooped with glee. “’Tis enough for all the Sinna orphans, isn’t it? What happened, Ronan? Tell us!”
Maelan let out an annoyed grumble, then stirred the fire to life. Friar Brian rolled up his cassock sleeves and started to prepare supper, chopping up wild leeks and garlic. Ronan settled his long frame on a log, rubbed his hands together, and began telling his tale with relish.
Everyone gathered around the fire to hear the story. Temair settled down on a mossy spot between her hounds.
“The particular villain I met today claimed he was a priest,” Ronan said. “He said he’d been wanderin’ the woods and lost his way, and would I be so good as to show him the way out?” He shrugged. “Naturally, god-fearin’, helpful man that I am…”
Young Fergus snickered at that. Everyone knew that Ronan was as mischievous as a marten.
Ronan gave him a chiding scowl. “God-fearin’ and helpful man that I am,” he asserted, “I started describin’ the windin’ curves o’ the woodland path.” He made a grand gesture to demonstrate. “But a curious thing happened when, in the midst o’ my instructions, my wayward arm happened to catch his hood and dislodge it.” He raised his brows dramatically. “‘Ah, good father,’ said I, ‘ye must have been wanderin’ a very long time.’ ‘Why?’ said he. Said I, ‘Because it seems your priest’s tonsure has all grown in.’”
“Ha!’ young Fergus exclaimed.
Temair grinned.
The friar clucked his tongue.
“He turned as red as your hair, Lady Mor,” Ronan continued, giving her a wink. “But he still insisted the trunk o’ silver I found in his satchel was alms for the poor.”
“What did ye do then?” young Fergus asked eagerly.
