Becca St.John by Seonaid Read Free Book Online Page B

rabbit.
    Seonaid’s back stiffened and he knew just what she was thinking. Hunting was a dangerous sport. Adults were not invincible. Something could always go wrong. A wee bit at five, Deian might be left alone, or worse, with a badly injured adult. People died in all manner of ways.
    She wasn’t stupid; she knew she risked her son’s life to save it. All good and well if plans were met, but if they weren’t?
    “There’s a village  near two days ride from here.”
     
    vvvvvv
     
    Seonaid’s head snapped up, eyes fixed on his. “A village?”
    “Mostly Reahs, branch of the MacKay’s.”
    “Kin.”
    “Aye.”
    She turned away, turned back, torn by the thought. To be in a community again, even as an outsider. But they would know. Some boat would have pulled into port, full of the goings-on at Glen Toric.
    And then there was Padraig. A woman and child traveling with a great strong virile man would cause speculation enough.
    “They may know about the men on the beach. May have known them, might even recognize the horses,” he said.
    Just like that, he turned her thoughts to other dangers, worries.
    Just as quickly, a plan formed; rough in its newness, but possible. “You go with young Deian. Go, have a good night. Good strong food and a dram or two. I’ll stay behind, with the horses.”
    “You’re daft!” Padraig reined in his mount.
    “They don’t need to know who he is,” she argued.
    “And how do I explain traveling on my own with a wee mite?”
    “As easily as you’d explain traveling with a woman and a child.” Though she already knew it didn’t matter. If word spread, it would have included the tale of her leaving and his following.
    She carried nothing but difficulties.
    “We all go or none go.”
    She snorted at his orders. Too full of them these days.
    He lured her, with promises for her boy. “There will be other kiddies in that place.”
    Other kiddies for Deian to play with. Lads his own age. Oh, he downed her with that one.
    His ire softened. “I don’t want to go without you.”
    “We’ll see.” She spent her life standing tall, refused to allow shameful secrets to bow her. But they weren’t secrets anymore. By now the whole of the highlands would know the evil her brother had wrought.
    She could damn the shame, ignore the stares and whispers, but she’d not force that fate on her son.
    “Give the lad that much.” Padraig murmured. She slew him with a glance.
    She’d give Deian the world and the skies and all the oceans if she could. She’d give him her life, but life wasn’t like that. Life was hard and punishing and threw punches when you were down.
    Seonaid knew all about getting through life. She didn’t know about enjoying it.
    That’s the gift she wanted for her son. The joy of life. He laughed with Padraig, but not with her.
    Padraig and joy.
    Traitorous heart allowed thoughts to slip in, of taste and texture and longing for a man. Of Padraig. The feel of him. Hunger dousing shame.
    She bit at that apple, allowed moments to dream. Too much time spent, the three of them. A family. Mother, son, and loving father.
    She’d built a fortress around herself, protection from brutality, too strong and sturdy to let the light of love seep beyond the chinks.
    She’d not left chinks.
    Padraig wanted her to go back. She couldn’t go back any more than she could return to childhood and the precious time when her ma’s love was her world, or to a time before her brother destroyed her. She couldn’t go back and change the moment she stopped The Bold from killing her brother. She should never have done that. Let Lochlan be a renegade, she’d thought. They’d be done with him, he’d not hurt anyone anymore. But he had. He’d kidnapped lasses from all over the highlands, because she’d stayed her laird’s hand. She couldn’t go back and change that.
    She couldn’t go back, no matter how hard Padraig tried to change her mind.
    Impossible to save her son from the names