“Oh, yes? You know, I suppose, that there are two reasons why I’m spending my nights in here and not in my own bed with my wife to keep me warm. One is to watch over you. The other’s to provide respectability for Sibeal, since it’s not quite right for her to be sleeping here with you in the next chamber. My presence makes it almost acceptable. Sibeal’s family would not approve of my leaving the two of you on your own after dark.”

“Just for a little,” I say. “I wish only to talk to her, Gull, nothing more. I have none of those feelings toward her, the kind you imply . . . ”

He looks at me, and I look at him. “Bollocks,” he says.

“I do not think I know this word.” I need not know it to understand his meaning.

“Rubbish. Maybe you and she like ideas and arguments. Maybe you share a bent for scholarship. But I’m a man, Ardal, same as you. There’s much more than that between you.”

I manage a smile. He has surprised me. Am I so transparent? “You speak like a father to a wayward son,” I tell him. “Very well, I amend what I said before. My feelings for Sibeal are many and complex. Foremost among them, always, will be respect. I respect her as a druid, as a scholar and as a woman. Look me in the eye as I say this, Gull, and tell me I am a liar.”

Gull grins. Now I have surprised him. “Then we’ll leave the decision up to Sibeal,” he says. “She may still be too tired to want anything more than a bowl of food and a good night’s sleep.”

“Gull?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you. I am sorry your wife must sleep alone.”

“Ah, well,” he says, “I expect we’ll make up for it later. How about trying a walk over to the fire? If you’re so keen to be off the island and away, we’d best keep working on those legs.”

Gull is yawning by the time Sibeal emerges from her little chamber at the end of the infirmary. Her face is pale; there are smudges of exhaustion around her lovely eyes. She hugs her shawl close about her. If I could be that shawl, I would shield her with the warmth of my arms and the courage of my heart. I would keep her from all harm. Gods, how this weakness fetters me!

“You stayed up,” Sibeal says, coming over to the fire where the two of us are sitting. She looks shaky on her feet, as if she might faint. “I’m sorry, I’m out of tune with time today. You should both be abed.” She turns those eyes on me in a look of such care and concern that it stops my words.