Page 83 of Taming the Eagle
XXX. NOT IN THIS LIFETIME
Lochan Uaine
Cairngorm Mountains, Caledonia
One month later …
“YOU CAN’T LIVE with us forever, daughter. It’s time you found yourself another husband.”
Stiffening, Fenella straightened up from where she’d been flipping oatcakes over the griddle. Her gaze then settled on where her father sat upon a stool on the opposite side of the fire pit. “I don’t want another husband. I’m happy alone.”
Bricius snorted. “Nonsense, woman. You can’t remain unwed, and I don’t want to be responsible for you either.”
“Bricius,” Fenella’s mother, Mona, spoke up, a rare note of chagrin to her usually soft voice. “Fen’s our daughter … she’s always welcome under our roof.”
Bricius muttered an oath under his breath and reached for the pot of honey before slathering it on his oatcake. “We’ve already got three mouths to feed.” He cast a hard look across the fire at where Fenella’s younger siblings—Ena, Maddoc, and Fife—sat. All three of them were under fourteen winters of age—not old enough to yet wed or fly the nest, yet that didn’t stop him from resenting them. “At least Eogan has moved out.”
Glaring across at her father, Fenella clenched her jaw. Her brother now shared a hut with three other unwed warriors, and Bricius never wasted the opportunity to boast about his son—or to lament how his eldest daughter was his greatest disappointment.
It had started the day after her return, although he’d never been as blunt as he was this morning about his desire for her to move out.
“I repeat, I’ll not wed,” Fenella said, her gaze never leaving her father’s face. “You forced me into marrying once … you’ll not do so twice.” She broke off there, her breathing quickening as her ire rose. “But if my presence here galls you so, I shall leave.”
Indeed, she was only here because she’d yet to decide what to do with the freedom she’d been given. If she was to strike out on her own, she needed time to prepare. She’d thought her family would welcome her back for a moon or two in the meantime, but it seemed she’d overstayed already.
“Fen.” Mona leaned forward, placing a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Of course you don’t have to go.”
“Aye, she does,” Bricius muttered.
“I want my alcove back, Ma,” Ena, her sister, piped up. The eldest of the three still at home, Ena hadn’t hidden her resentment when Fenella returned to live with them. “There’s no room for Fen here.”
Fenella scowled at her sister, her temper simmering, while her younger brothers both grinned.
Her mother was her only ally under this roof.
She hadn’t expected living with her kin again to be easy, but with the passing of the days, she discovered that her time at Ardoch had tainted her in their eyes. She’d barely seen Eogan since her return. Was he embarrassed by her?
“That’s right, daughter,” Bricius replied with a nod. “Fenella needs to go.” His brow furrowed then, his gaze fixing upon the elder of his two daughters. “I’ll not have a Romanwhoreresiding under my roof.”
Heat swept over Fenella as she stared back at him.
There it was—finally. Aye, she was tainted all right. Whispers had followed her of late. She hadn’t missed the looks the villagers gave her, although she’d hoped her kin would remain loyal. After all, she’d been taken away by force.
That hadn’t prevented Bricius from making plenty of insinuations since her return. But this morning, he was out of patience.
Drawing in a sharp breath, she silently prayed to The Mother for the will to control her temper.
When her father had handed her over to Toutorix, resentment had boiled within her for a long while afterward. During her time at Ardoch, she’d almost forgotten how ill-tempered he could be, how unjust—but now all the old memories came back. Her mother was as cowed as ever, Bricius even more outspoken. And her siblings were strangers.
Fenella’s gaze swept over the faces around the fire pit. Her sister and brothers were all watching her, their glazes gleaming in the firelight. Meanwhile, her mother wore a downcast expression as she stared at her untouched oatcakes. Poor Mona had spent too many years in Bricius’s company. The bully had worn her down, like sand on stone.
“I’m going out to milk the goat,” Fenella announced coldly, stepping back from the fire. She usually enjoyed her morning meal of oatcakes, but her father’s insult had robbed her of appetite.
“Good,” Bricius grumbled. “Make yourself useful before you find yourself a man … there’s a market on this morning. You might meet someone desperate enough there.”
Fenella stared at her father for a long moment. The urge to rage at him spiraled up within her. But instead of giving in to violence, she spun on her heel, grabbed a wooden pail, and left the roundhouse.
Ducking out from under the low lintel, she strode along the wooden walkway toward shore.