She turned, still not ready to face him but accepting that she no longer had the choice. She did manage to close her mouth, at least.
He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “Two days ago, Morda returned to have my answer, and I discovered that the situation in Laigin is far worse than I’d realized.”
This time her eyes did meet his, her voice flat. “You’re leaving.”
Of course, he was leaving. He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? His answers, his closure.
“I swore to Morda, aye. He needs my help, or Laigin may go to war with Mumhain.” He bit his lip—an act that would haveundone her composure in any other scenario. “Before I knew that you returned my affection.”
Before Samhain. Before he’d bedded her. He’d said he known two days ago.
“You knew you were leaving?” she asked in disbelief, her voice rising in spite of her efforts at calm. “You knew on Samhain you were leaving?” Had he been planning this all along?
He stepped toward her, reaching for her.
She stepped away. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I tried,” he replied. “I tried to tell you on Samhain, but I got so caught up in it, in you. By the time I had another chance, it was too late. It’s no excuse, and I’m sorry.”
“You could have told me before Samhain,” she accused, blinking back tears.
“Could I, though?” he countered, keeping his voice slow and steady. Careful. “Niamh, you hardly spoke with me at first after I arrived. If I had told you, within days of you deciding to let me back into your life, what do you think would have happened?”
“So it’s better to upset me after I’ve started trusting you? To lie to me to win my trust?”
“Of course not,” he replied. “But you aren’t the only one who had to decide to trust. Can’t you see how afraid I was to lose you again?”
“So is that why you pretended that you liked me?” She was done with this, with him. Her voice shook in spite of her best efforts. “Was this all some sort of elaborate plot of revenge? Win her back, convince her to divulge her deepest secrets, bed her, then leave her as she did you?”
“What?” He looked genuinely confused, but Niamh knew better. “What are you talking about? Niamh, I really do love you.”
“I heard you. Last night.”
“Okay,” he said, exaggerating the word. “What did you hear, exactly?”
He wasn’t going to trick her again.
“I heard Diarmid ask about some plot you and Finn concocted to trick me into trusting you. And that being stuck with one woman—with me—was no longer going to pose a problem.”
He ran a hand down his face. “That isnotwhat Finn suggested. Diarmid was trying to be funny.”
“Well, I wasn’t amused,” she shot back. “WhatdidFinn suggest, then?”
“That instead of being miserable and angry while I was with you, I should see it as an opportunity for closure. He suggested that Igenuinelybe kind to you, explain that I wanted to know why you left, and hope that you would take pity on me. At no point was I trying to trick you.”
“Then why does it still feel like a betrayal?”
Dallan’s gaze softened. “Because, perhaps, you hoped all along that I wasn’t angry with you, that a part of me still wanted you. Or, perhaps it isn’t my forgiveness and acceptance that you need. Maybe it’s your own. All you’ve been doing since I arrived in Thurles is look for reasons to keep pushing me away.”
“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But I’m having an awful lot of trouble unscrambling this mess. When were you only pretending to be nice? How long were you so angry that you would have avoided me instead of showing kindness? How much of what you said to me was even true? And,” she declared, her mind and heart still reeling, “how does any of what you just told me excuse you keeping so many secrets from me when we were supposed to be starting over?”
“It doesn’t,” he answered without hesitation. “And I’m sorry.”
“I told you everything.” Niamh felt her composure slipping, her chest cracking open and summoning tears she’d never let him see.
“I know. And I want to discuss this more.”
“But instead, you’re leaving me.”
