“No,” Niamh breathed in relief. “You should never apologize for saving someone’s life. You didn’t upset me at all. Forget the whole thing.”
He stepped toward her, now within easy reach. “You’re certain?”
Niamh grabbed a small bag off the table beside her, handing it to Dallan. He took it, opening it and smelling the contents.
“Cinnamon?”
“I set some aside for you while I made up Alva’s infusion. As a thank you.”
He said nothing, staring at the bag.
“It’s not much,” Niamh continued, now wishing she’d done more. “If you’d like I can make you that drink you like so much, with milk and cinnamon. Dallan?”
“You remembered,” he sounded so far away. “You remembered that it was my favorite.”
Niamh’s heart melted into a puddle in the pit of her stomach. He looked so vulnerable, so much like that boy she’d fallen in love with.
“Of course, I remembered. You didn’t honestly think I could buy cinnamon and not set some aside for you? You had my father on contract to let you know the moment he restocked it.” She smiled at the memory.
He swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath. “I haven’t had it in ages. Your father thought it the most ridiculous request,” he laughed.
“Aye, but he’d have done anything for you. And we all knew how seriously you took your cinnamon.”
“There’s nothing else like it,” he defended. Then his face fell. “Your father—what happened to him?”
“He’s gone.” That was Niamh’s answer anytime someone asked after him. He’d abandoned her mother once it had become clear she’d not be giving him any more children and Niamh wouldn’t be marrying a prince. As far as Niamh was concerned, he was as good as dead anyway, so it wasn’t entirely untrue.
“I’m so sorry, Niamh,” Dallan took another step closer. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been on you and your mother.”
The door opened to the infirmary and Alva stepped inside. Niamh exhaled in relief.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked.
“Not at all,” Niamh replied. “I’ve been hoping to find you this morning. Come on in.”
Dallan stepped back, leaving Niamh wishing they had more time to speak. Alva moved out of his path through the doorway, walking over to Niamh expectantly. Before Dallan shut the door, he turned back to Niamh.
“I’ll see you Samhain Eve.”
“Dallan,” she started in protest.
“We hang the boughs at the third bell,” he interrupted with a wicked grin. He turned and left, with his cinnamon in one hand and her heart in the other.
She looked at Alva, who covered her mouth to suppress a giggle.
“I am in so much trouble.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dallan had knownthis day would come, and yet it didn’t make the decision any easier. When Cormac summoned him to the solar the next afternoon with a message that he had a guest, Dallan knew he could no longer avoid making his choice. Would he return to his family? Or would he keep waiting on Niamh? Did it need to be one or the other?
The weather had begun to turn, the rain colder and more frequent as winter teased at the edges of autumn. It should be weeks before the cold came in full, yet as Dallan crossed the courtyard in Thurles, it wouldn’t have surprised him if it began to snow. Though he had turned the decision over and over in his mind, he remained undecided. Dallan knew that he should be motivated by ties to family and political maneuvering. Or, at the very least, by what he felt most compelled to do with his life. Yet for some reason, Dallan found the only thing that mattered to him, the thing to which he always returned, was his relationship with Niamh.
It hadn’t taken long after seeing her again for Dallan to realize that, in spite of their past, he still wanted her in his life. The question was: Did she want him in hers?
Andthat, for Dallan, would be the deciding factor. If Niamh weren’t in the picture, he knew he would return to Laigin and help his uncle. As Brian had said, family was everything.
But if he could start his own family with Niamh, he would stay in Brian’s service. He knew she had no great desire to be aqueen, as they’d discussed it many times when they first courted. For years Dallan thought she’d left because of it, at least in part. But now that he’d finally spoken with her, his gut told him there was more to it than that.
