Page 89 of Taming the Eagle

Fenella snorted in reply.

“I’ll admit, he can be bullish at times,” her mother continued, still smiling, “but when we’re alone, Bricius shows a softer side.”

Fenella cocked her head. “He has one?”

Mona’s smile widened. “Aye.”

Shaking her head, Fenella turned back to her sewing, nipped off the thread with her teeth, and reached for the next item to be mended.

Silence fell between them once more. The late afternoon sun glittered off the still waters of the lochan. Squeals of laughter from children playing on the shore reached them.

“You never talk of him,” Mona said then, drawing Fenella’s attention once more.

Fenella cocked an eyebrow. “Who? Toutorix?” She gave a dramatic shiver. “I’d rather not. I’m glad the bastard’s dead.”

“No …an Iolaire.”

The Eagle.

“There’s little to say,” Fenella replied, forcing a lightness into her tone she didn’t feel.

The Mother forgive her, she wished that were the truth.

“I don’t believe you.”

Fenella glanced Mona’s way once more to see her mother watching her intently, a gleam in her eye. “If you hated him, you’d have told tales of his cruelty, of how you prayed to the gods to punish him for eternity. But instead, you haven’t said a word.”

Shifting uncomfortably on her stool, Fenella glanced away. “Perhaps, I don’t wish to dwell on my time at Ardoch.” Bitterness filled her mouth then. “You can hardly blame me … when Da calls me a Roman whore.”

Her mother flinched. “Perhaps,” Mona replied softly, “but I’ve observed how you stare off into the distance sometimes, when you think no one is watching you … and the sadness that shadows your eyes at times. You grieve someone … and I think it’s him.”

Fenella’s throat constricted. Gods, since when had her mother become so adept at reading folk?

Murmuring an oath, she put down her sewing and knuckled her stinging eyes.

“So, itishim?” Mona’s hand, thin and cool, closed over Fenella’s forearm. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“And say what exactly?” Fenella met her mother’s gaze once more.

Mona held her stare. “That you love him.”

Fenella’s heart jolted. What was her mother saying?

Moments passed, and then she cleared her throat. “I miss him,” she whispered as her chest started to ache. “Does that mean that I’m in love?”

Mona favored her with a soft smile. “I’d say so, Fen.”

Fenella’s throat thickened. She blinked rapidly as her vision blurred. However, a tear still escaped, trickling down her cheek. She then murmured a soft oath under her breath.

Mona continued to watch her before a groove etched between her brows. “Does he feel the same way?”

Fenella heaved in a shuddering breath and then nodded. “He asked me to wed him, although I’m sure he’s regretting that now.”

Her mother took this in, still frowning, her gaze roving her daughter’s face. “A proud one, eh … like you.”

Fenella hiccoughed as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. The Hag give her strength, she was on the verge of crumbling completely. She’d held herself together since leaving Ardoch, and hadn’t even been able to weep at night, for she shared a cramped alcove with blade-tongued Ena. But just a few words from her mother, and she risked dissolving into a sobbing heap.

“When you were taken, I feared the worst,” her mother admitted. “I thought the Eagle would have treated you cruelly … as Toutorix did. He is one of the Caesars, after all.”