“Are you really going to make us ask?” Diarmid looked positively giddy. He was as bad a gossip as any of the household servants. Likely he had overheard one of them talking.
“I fell in love with her when we were but children. She left me. That’s all there is to it.”
“That’s not all,” Diarmid argued.
“Why would you think I’m lying?”
“You’re not lying,” Cormac answered. “But in situations such as these, the information offered isneverall of it.”
Diarmid was nodding emphatically. “You may as well tell us now. We can always just ask Niamh.”
Dallan groaned in frustration. “Fine. I courted her for a year and when I proposed she said no, left the village, and I never saw her again. Until we arrived here.”
“Did she tell you why?” Diarmid pressed.
Dallan simply shook his head.
“Unacceptable.”
“For once I agree with you,” Dallan replied to Diarmid. “Which is why there’s nothing going on. I don’t know why she wouldn’t marry me then and she still won’t tell me now.”
“If she’s rebuffed you twice over, why are you running to take her apples and salmon?” Cormac, ever the voice of reason, questioned.
“Finn suggested winning back some of her trust so that she’ll finally tell me what happened, and I can stop wondering. And she had a hard day yesterday. I want to check on her. I can be nice to her without trying to get her into my bed, can’t I?”
Diarmid said, “No,” at the same time as Cormac nodded in agreement. As they looked at each other, preparing for a debate, Dallan used the opportunity to finally get out of the hall and over to the infirmary.
Though he wasn’t thrilled that two more people knew his embarrassing tale, he felt somewhat vindicated that they also thought she should have offered a reason for her rejection.
But now was not the time to dwell on the past. Niamh needed a friend, not a vengeful past lover. Today, he would put aside any bitterness and support her.
Dallan strode through the open doors, preparing himself for a repeat of yesterday, when he’d found Niamh crying her heart out. He was relieved when he sighted her laying out blackberry leaves to dry.
She looked up at him, her honey-colored eyes sunken, shadows forming beneath them. Half of her flaxen hair had escaped from her braids. She was exhausted.
“Did you sleep?” he asked, walking over and setting one of the apples and all of the salmon on the table in front of her.
“Good morning to you, too,” she replied with a sharp look, eyeing the food he’d brought.
“And yes, I did sleep.” She picked up a strip of salmon and took a bite, looking up at him with a weak smile. “Thank you. It’s delicious.”
“You’re welcome. And you didn’t sleep enough. Why don’t you go lie down? Perhaps I can…” he gestured broadly to the table where she was working, “help?”
She laughed once, the sound a lightning strike of memory.
“I like it when you laugh.”
“You have a way of bringing it about.”
Dallan took a bite of his apple, refusing to back down. “Really, you should rest more. I can see how hard you’ve been working.” He looked around the room, spotting only two patients remaining of her original eighteen. They slumbered peacefully, neither seeming in critical condition. “They’ll be fine without you. I can stay here and keep an eye on things if you’d like.”
Niamh narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re too persuasive for your own good.”
“Does that mean you will?”
“Yes, I will go lie down. Happy?”
Dallan took another bite of his apple and grinned at her. “Very.”
