Galen wordlessly nodded, the confession proving far more difficult than he originally imagined. He did not want to hurt Laoghaire, nor did he want to cast aspersions upon Melisande’s character. Deciding to shoulder the blame for the kiss—even though ’twas Melisande who initiated it—he said, “I kissed Melisande that night. After which, she offered me the gift of mercy.”
No sooner was the confession made than Laoghaire’s bottom lip began to quiver, her eyes filling with tears. Feeling a ball of shame congeal in his belly, Galen ached to pull her into his arms, but he knew that he had to press on and finish the sordid tale.
“Did ye accept her offer?” Laoghaire demanded to know.
“No, I did not,” he said with a shake of the head. “In the end, I spurned her.”
Appearing unconvinced, Laoghaire shot him a suspicious glance. “Why did ye refuse her? She is beautiful, and I would never have known if ye had bedded her.”
“Yea, she is comely, but—” Galen broke off abruptly. Knowing that he needed to take great care with his words, he took several measured breaths before he continued and said, “When I opened my eyes after we kissed, I was vastly disappointed that it wasn’t your blue eyes that I was peering into. At that moment, I realized that I didn’t want to bed her. I only wanted to bed you.” And still did with great urgency, his lust for Laoghaire like a banked fire that refused to die. “On that night I discovered there is only one lady at Castle Airlie who tempts me.”
Still appearing dubious, Laoghaire folded her arms over her chest. “If that is true, why did ye mutter in yer sleep that ye were greatly tempted?”
“I spoke falsely.”
“To me?”
“To her,” Galen made haste to clarify. “I did not know how to reject Melisande without giving offense. She has suffered greatly on my account. Because I did not wish for her to suffer even more, I told her that I was tempted by the offer as a way to soften the blow.”
Eyeing him thoughtfully, Laoghaire took a moment to ponder his account of that regrettable night.
Worried that she was still unconvinced, Galen doggedly held her gaze, hoping that by dint of sheer will he could persuade her to believe him. “I pray thee, Laoghaire. Do not throw away what we shared in the grotto because of an interlude that never came to pass. I desire but one woman and that is you. Only you,” he repeated, keen to emphasize the point.
To his great relief, the harsh lines on Laoghaire’s face began to soften.
By the grace of God! The ice is finally beginning to melt.
Determined to regain Laoghaire’s trust and affection, Galen said, “Whilst I am attending the king’s war council at Castle Balloch, I will do all in my power to find a suitable husband for Melisande.”
“Ye would . . . ye would do this for me?” Laoghaire asked somewhat hesitantly.
“I am not blind to the fact that it aggrieves you to have Melisande living at Castle Airlie.”
Laoghaire’s finely arched brows suddenly snapped together. “Why did ye not make this confession about the dream when we were in the grotto?”
Grinning wryly, Galen leaned his shoulder against the stone wall. “Perchance it had something to do with you pounding me on the chest and calling me a knave.”
Even though it was a gentle gibe, spoken with good humor, Laoghaire’s entire face instantly reddened. “I did so because I was consumed with—” She stopped in mid-sentence, evidently thinking better of whatever it was she had intended to say. A long pause ensued while she stared at her lap. Finally raising her head, she peered at him with a gravely serious expression. “Can ye forgive me, Galen?”
“’Tis nothing to forgive, Laoghaire. We were both in the wrong that day.”
“But I seized hold of a false assumption and held it as dearly to my breast as I would the truth,” she argued, refusing to accept the pardon.
“And because I was in pride’s thrall, I stubbornly refused to relieve you of that false assumption,” he countered, not wanting to spoil the armistice with a pointless argument.
Evidently Laoghaire was of a similar mindset, for she unexpectedly slid her palm across the stone embrasure and shyly touched his hand. “I think we are both too new to this business of marriage.”
Cheered by that sweetly coy invitation, Galen closed his fingers around Laoghaire’s hand. “Perhaps it is no different from any craft that must be perfected over time.”
“But unlike most crafts, it requires two artisans to make a perfect marriage,” his lady wife was quick to point out.
Galen raised Laoghaire’s hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss in the notch between her knuckles. “You have my solemn promise that I will ply both hands and mouth to this craft.”
“I think it might require a few more tools than that. But ’tis a good start.” Although Laoghaire smiled playfully, there was a distinctly seductive glimmer in her eyes.
Despite the chill in the air, all of sudden Galen felt exceedingly warm, the blood rushing to his groin. And though he wanted to pull Laoghaire into his arms so they could hone their craft, there was one additional matter to attend to in order for their reconciliation to be complete.
Releasing his hold on Laoghaire’s hand, Galen opened the leather pouch that hung from his belt and retrieved from it the amethyst wedding ring. “Many nights ago you left this at the high table.” Holding the glittering ring between his thumb and forefinger, he offered it to Laoghaire. “’Tis my most fervent hope you will now consent to wear it.”
