Even though his father advised him to find love, Artair was more practical and knew that finding a good woman who would share his plans for the future would serve him much better than finding love.
Love could be unsettling, uncertain and unpredictable. He favored the opposite. A settled relationship, whose predictability he could rely on. And yet her words nagged at him.
Passion eventually sizzled, while commonality remained dependable.
Passion only dies if you let it.
More of her words to haunt him. And his father and mother were proof of Zia’s statement. They loved passionately, each other, family, clan, and life. They were always there for one another. His father had respected his mother and often sought her counsel when matters proved difficult. They would huddle away in their bedchamber, and if he and his brothers happened to sneak by, they would hear them talking, laughing, and…
Artair grinned. It wasn’t until later, when they were old enough to be aware of what their parents were up to in their bedchamber, that they stopped sneaking by. The thought that his parents continued to love each other so passionately had pleased him. It was good to know their love was strong and firm, for it told him that they loved their sons just as much.
He finally settled down on his blanket to sleep, his thoughts still heavy on his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking of Zia, passion, or love. His only thought should be his brother Ronan. Tomorrow, God willing, they would finally reunite.
He prayed that nothing would prevent their reunion , but couldn’t help but worry. It had been over a year of searching and following gossip and messages that proved false. With so many paths that led nowhere, he worried this would turn out the same and once again he would be left wondering the whereabouts of his brother.
Cavan had ached to join him on this mission, but Honora hadn’t been feeling well, and even though she urged him to go, he felt he could not abandon her. Artair understood. If anything had happened to Honora and the babe while Cavan was gone, he would have never been able to forgive himself.
Cavan still continued to blame himself for Ronan’s capture, though he had actually come to his brother’s defense in the battle that saw them taken as prisoners. But that didn’t matter to Cavan. He was obsessed with finding Ronan, and Artair knew there would be no rest for any of the clan until they did.
Whether they found Ronan alive or dead, Cavan wanted him brought home. It was Sinclare land he belonged on, and it would be Sinclare land where he would rest.
Artair fervently hoped that tomorrow would end their tireless search, that he would return with Ronan, alive, and they all could finally lay the past to rest and embrace the future.
He yawned, sleep poking at him, though he fought it. He had to make certain he had thought of everything, covered every possibility, prepared for the unexpected. He could not—would not—fail either brother, Cavan or Ronan. Both had suffered enough, and it was time for family to be reunited once and for all.
In the meantime he would learn more about Zia. She appeared a good woman, and he was looking for a good woman to make his wife. She seemed a viable candidate, and she was a healer, another good quality and definitely an asset to the clan.
Artair shook his head.
It was a thought, no more than a thought.
Chapter 4
“What was that you said?” Artair asked. He stood beside his horse at the mouth of two mountains that looked almost as if they touched, though on closer inspection a trail that separated the two could be spied past the dense foliage.
“Your men will have to wait here,” Zia repeated.
“Why?”
“They have no business in our village. Only those who have a reason for being there are allowed entrance.”
Artair offered a sensible reason. “They are with me.”
“But only you have business there.”
He knew it wouldn’t sit well with his men for him to continue on without them, and he felt the same. They watched each others’ backs; in a sense, they were one.
“We are family, of the same clan. It is all our business,” Artair said, confident he had settled the dilemma. His men nodded and smiled, showing the same confidence.
Zia smiled graciously and shook her head. “Your men stay here and you go on with me, or I go on alone and you all take your leave.”
“Who’s going to stop us from following?” James asked boldly.
“The sentinels that surround you,” Zia answered calmly, and began walking toward the mouth of the two mountains.
Artair remained as he was, but his men placed heavy hands on the hilts of their swords and their eyes went immediately to the trees. Zia didn’t break her stride, and Artair realized the choice was no longer his. He had to follow her and his traitorous dog.