Zia settled it by throwing the covers off him and crawling over him with a sexy grin that promised paradise on earth. Then he surrendered to her with each tantalizing touch and intimate kiss.
Artair paced in Cavan’s solar.
“Everyone tried to help,” Cavan said.
“And made it worse,” Artair spat. “The village makes Zia appear a saint, which only fuels the bishop’s perception of her as a witch. And that fool Neil gloats over what he assumes is a victory…the witch will burn.”
“We both know that will not happen.”
“How do we stop it?” Artair asked desperately, looking to his brother as the powerful laird who could do the impossible.
“I don’t know, but we will stop it,” Cavan said with a firm grasp of his brother’s shoulder.
Artair calmed and nodded. He and Zia weren’t alone in this. His family was on his side and would do all they could to keep Zia from being taken away.
A knock interrupted their concerns and forced a different set of worries on them.
“You will be kind to her?” Artair asked of his brother, knowing Bethane waited beyond the closed door.
“I want my brother home,” Cavan said sharply, and called out for her to enter.
Bethane entered with a flourish, her cheeks dashed pink, her green eyes aglow and her smile generous.
“What an honor to be invited to your solar, Cavan,” she said, and extended her hand to his.
He took it, and she held firm to it with both hands for a moment, then smiled wider and released his hand.
Bethane nodded. “You will serve your people well.”
“I am more concerned at the moment with finding Ronan,” Cavan said, and directed her to one of the chairs in front of the large hearth where he stood.
She stretched her hands out to the warm flames. “Winter will be upon us soon.”
“And I would like my brother home for the solstice.”
“Your brother is a strong one. I have no doubt he will find his way home,” Bethane said.
Artair stepped forward and sat in the chair beside Bethane. “Why did Ronan leave your village?”
“Someone followed him,” she answered.
“Why didn’t you tell me this when I first asked?” Cavan asked, bewildered.
“I had given my word.”
“To who?” Cavan demanded.
“Your brother,” Bethane said softly.
Both brothers shook their heads.
“Yet you tell us now?” Artair asked, as confused as Cavan.
“Enough time has passed to ensure Ronan’s safety, which was what he had asked of me.”
“But we’re his brothers,” Cavan said.
“Yes, you are.”
Cavan and Artair stared at each other, shaking their heads until Artair looked at Bethane and glared at her.
“Ronan was protecting us!”
She nodded, smiling.
“From what?” Cavan demanded.
“That I’m not at liberty to say,” Bethane said regretfully.
Cavan began pacing in front of the hearth. “This makes no sense.”
“Did Ronan know of our victory against the barbarians?” Artair asked Bethane.
“Yes, he did,” she confirmed.
“Then why not simply come home?” Cavan asked with annoyance.
“It isn’t that simple for your brother,” she said. “And I would suggest that you let him be, for his own safety.”
“Ronan’s in trouble?” both brothers asked at once.
“He will tell you all of it when he sees you,” she said.
“That’s not good enough,” Cavan said curtly.
“I’m afraid it is all I can offer you.”
“Do you tell me you refuse to answer any more questions?” Cavan demanded.
“Of course not, but I doubt my answers will satisfy you,” Bethane said firmly.
“You speak in constant riddles, while I want facts,” Cavan said.
Bethane stood. “Riddles lead to facts. Think about it and you may learn something. Now I must go see how my people fair.”
She had dismissed Cavan rather than him dismissing her.
“I should be furious with her,” Cavan said after she left. “I should lock her up in the dungeon until she decides to tell us what we want to know…and yet I can’t, for I feel I have something to learn from her words.”
“Besides, we don’t have a dungeon,” Artair said, grinning.
“Shut up,” Cavan warned, and dropped into the chair beside his brother. “Don’t tell me this doesn’t disturb you. It sounds as if our brother is in more trouble than we first thought. But with whom and how, and how the hell do we help him?”
“According to Zia, we can’t. It would appear that our interference would only make it worse.”