Storm Maiden Read Free Page A

between her father
and her mother’s sister. The look of malice she saw glinting in
Siobhan’s eyes made Fiona’s own guilt intensify. She did not hate
her father or wish him ill; she only wanted to foil his wedding
plans for her.
    “Come.” Siobhan gestured to the corner of
the dwelling where she kept her herbs. “If I am to give you a quick
lesson in healing a man’s battle wounds, we’d best begin at
once.”

Chapter 2
    “Fiona!”
    Her father’s sharp voice made Fiona jerk
around as she hurried across the muddy courtyard. She quickly hid
the leather bag of healing supplies Siobhan had given her, behind
her back. “Aye, Father. You wish speech with me?”
    “Daughter.” Donall’s eyes swept over her.
“Where are you going in servant’s attire?”
    Fiona hesitated, then met his stern gaze. “I
went to visit Siobhan.” Let him dare to tell her she had no right
to visit her aunt, her own blood kin.
    “Alone?”
    “Nay, Tully was with me.”
    Donall’s stance relaxed, but his shrewd
green eyes continued to pierce her. “What business did you have
with your aunt?”
    “I asked her to show me some of her healing
methods. Since I am to wed a warrior, I need to know how to drain
an oozing wound or make a healing poultice.”
    “Healing?” Her father snorted in disgust.
“More likely you have obtained poison to help your bridegroom into
the spirit world ere you have to wed him.”
    Fiona set her jaw. Her father obviously knew
how much she
    despised Sivney Longbeard, but he intended
to wed her against her will. “I would do no such a thing. You must
know it, Father.”
    “I would hope not. Still, your sulky look
reveals your feelings for Sivney haven’t softened.” He sighed, and
his scowl eased. “Come with me into my private chamber. We’ll talk
of this some more.”
    Fiona followed her father into the spacious
sleeping area built into the back of the feasthall. The walls were
draped with rich, vivid cloths, and woven mats covered the floor.
Wooden chests bound with enameled bronze strips held her father’s
clothes and the gold and jewels Fiona would take as her dowry when
she wed. A bronze ewer and priceless glassware from Brittany graced
the carved table near the wickerwork bed. Fiona fidgeted. Her
father had taken no concubine since her mother’s death, and the
fine ornaments that adorned the place remained as they always had,
reawakening Fiona’s dull, aching grief over her loss.
    Donall saw her wistful look and nodded.
“Aye, I still miss her, too. I’ve wondered sometimes if it would be
better if I gave away her things. Perhaps you would like them as
part of your dowry when you go to Rath Morrig?”
    At the mention of the wedding, Fiona’s mood
again turned rebellious. She glowered at her father. “I’ve told
you, I’m not going to Morrig.”
    Her father’s jaw clenched; but when he
spoke, his voice was surprisingly mild. “ Acushla, I don’t
make this decision lightly. If I didn’t need Sivney’s support, I
would not think to give you to him.”
    “And how many cattle and bondsmen make up
the price of my maidenhead?”
    Her father’s face flushed with anger, and
the veins stood out on his forehead. “Would that your mother ever
heard you speak so! ‘Tis a fine and honorable match I have arranged
for you. Sivney has vowed to treat you with utmost respect and
honor.”
    “Oh, so ‘tis only serving girls and sluts he
cavorts with in his banquet hall! ‘Tis pleased I am that his vow to
you will save me from his coarse attentions.”
    Her father grabbed her wrist. “Do not speak
so of your future husband.”
    “ ‘Tis true, though, isn’t it, Father?”
Fiona spoke acidly.
    A stricken look crossed Donall’s face. He
dropped her wrist and turned away. Fiona noticed how much silver
threaded his dark hair. Her father had aged greatly in the two
sunseasons since Aisling died. An unwanted sense of compassion
disturbed Fiona’s thoughts as she realized how much her