Author's note: this was actually written during a period in which I was actually living on an island, and it got reworked a bit after I actually did manage to get out to Clare Island, so hopefully the island-ness is somewhat accurate. And, disclaimer: Tiernan isn't mine, and Grace surely belongs to no one but herself. :)
The soft fall of her feet on the path that ran from the bay up through the hills of Clare Island made no sound, even on this night of absolute silence. Grace reveled in this solitary time- Evleen had agreed to take Eoin fishing earlier in the day and then get him cleaned up and ready for bed afterwards, so the young woman was able to wander her starlit island alone for awhile.
Grace stopped in the middle of the path, tilting her head skyward. It was late, and no lamps remained in any of the windows of the nearby fishermen's cottages, making the light of the stars the only light to be seen. It was a truly magnificent sight, gems set into a blue velvet sky. Grace was reminded forcibly of a night nearly fifteen years earlier, of two young sailors twined together on the deck of a starlit ship. Grace smiled to herself. Tiernan.
Maybe she didn't want to be alone, after all. Eoin took up much of her time- her nine-year-old, having been deprived of his mother until he was seven, now insisted upon following her everywhere. He was, she imagined, much like she had been at that age. He wanted to learn to handle a sword, and a ship, and how to defend the island. If he couldn't have access to her, he had also discovered that he could cling to Tiernan like a stubborn barnacle, and that his mother's first mate would let him do very nearly anything he wanted. Grace often scolded Tiernan for allowing the boy to hold such sway over him, but on the inside, her heart warmed at the affection the two had for one another.
She had her peace from Eoin for the evening. Gazing up at the stars, however, she found herself wishing she'd brought Tiernan along with her. She dropped her eyes back to the path and continued along. Ten minutes later, however, she heard quiet footsteps behind her, and she smiled again, without turning. Sometimes she could swear he could read her thoughts. He caught up with her, looping his arms around her waist from behind, pressed a soft kiss to the curve where her neck met her shoulder, and then rested his chin there. She leaned back into his embrace, grateful for the fact that he seemed to understand her need for quiet. He always knew, Tiernan. He knew when to talk to her, to pull her out of moods, when to joke with her, and when she wanted nothing but silence and the feel of his arms around her. Sometimes she couldn't help but tease him for it-- after all, what man was so sensitive that he knew exactly what a woman was thinking at all times? But she'd always remind herself that he might well just be making up for everything she supposedly lacked as a woman. They worked together, in every way.
She turned to face him, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, and she wordlessly glanced up. He looked up too, then smiled back at her, twining their fingers together. He remembered, too. Of course he remembered.