her
gentle, courageous sister-in-law must have been abducted by Normans a moment
she would not forget.
"I say we ride to Ferns, now, this very
night."
Pulled from her roiling thoughts, Triona glanced at
Niall, holding her breath as Ronan turned from the fire.
"Donal MacMurrough should know what has
happened," Niall continued, his words coming faster. "He would help
us—aye, he's an ally to the Normans, a trusted vassal of King John. He could
send word among them that Maire is not to be harmed—"
"And have our enemies know her connection to a hated rebel that could put her life in added danger?"
Ronan broke in harshly. "Think, Niall, by God, think! That you'll wed the
MacMurrough's daughter does not lessen the price upon our heads. And you, as my
Tanist and the chieftain of the Glenmalure O'Byrnes if any ill should come to
me bear a weight of Norman gold nearly as great as mine! If you believe the
murdering spawn who've overrun our isle would not use such knowledge against
us, dammit, man, then you're far more besotted—"
"Ronan, enough, please!"
Sensing Niall's renewed anger at the ominous clenching
of his fists, Triona moved at once between the two men, determined that this
tragedy would not forge a breach deeper than it had already become. She looked
at Ronan, impassioned pleading in her voice.
"Let us think, husband, just as you said. Railing at
Niall will not bring Maire back to us, aye, and don't forget he might have been
murdered as well if he hadn't left that meadow. Then you would have lost both a
brother and a sister. Now, what of my plan? Is it sound?"
He didn't readily answer, but his slow nod told her
that her words had struck home. And Niall seemed to have relaxed some as well,
his blue-gray eyes riveted upon his elder brother.
"The tracks were heading south to north, Ronan, at least for the three miles we followed them before
it grew too dark."
"Aye, which would mean Dublin. "
At the somber silence that fell, Triona knew her
husband was thinking of the Norman-held city and its bay filled with foreign
ships traveling to and from Eire. And if Maire's captors were bound for England
. . .
"No, Ronan, that's only one course they might have
taken," Triona interjected, unable not to when she saw his expression
hardening again. "How large a force did you say must have formed the
attack?"
"Thirty men from the tracks, mayhap more. Fiach
and the others could never have fought off so many."
" Aye, and it makes no
sense that such a large force would have come so close to our mountains . . .
unless they were new to our country and hadn't heard of the O'Byrnes or
O'Tooles. So let's think no more of Dublin or ships but farther north. Surely
that's where Maire's captors must have been bound."
Touched by the warmth in Ronan's eyes at her fervent
words of reassurance, Triona stepped from between him and Niall, hoping that
the two would talk now and not shout at each other. She was much heartened when
Niall's grim yet level voice once more broke the silence.
"That could mean Kildare, Meath, even
Ulster."
"Aye, but we'll find her. By God, when we do, I
vow those Normans will die."
Chills struck Triona at the look Ronan exchanged with
Niall, the man she loved so completely appearing more a harbinger of vengeance
with his midnight hair and ominous expression than ever she'd seen him. Niall,
too, looked as forbidding, not as dark as Ronan but as strikingly handsome. At
once the two fell into an intense discussion of how many men would be sent
where to ask questions about Maire of Irish tenants working Norman land—who
might have seen her, who might have noticed a stunning young woman with hair as
black as night, eyes of softest gray, and the fine-boned features of an angel.
Indeed, Deirdre favored her aunt more than Triona; the
only trait she shared with her wee daughter was her unruly curls. Aye, that,
and a nature that bordered on stubborn no matter Triona's hopes to spare Ronan,
though Deirdre could melt any