Of course. Again, he was a complete fool. Others had always taken care of him. Never had he taken care of others. But he would do this and do it well—for his precious Ethne. After ripping free a hank of the cleanest part of his hem and wetting it, he carefully pressed its coolness to her throat and face.
The faster rise and fall of her chest encouraged him. She breathed deeper—a sure sign she was fighting her way back to opening her eyes. Her lashes fluttered, giving him hope. Then she opened them. A rare pair of jewels. One a brilliant sapphire. The other a sparkling emerald.
“Friend?” Her brows drew together, but then she flinched and touched her forehead. “I remember now,” she said in a tremulous whisper. Her eyes filled with tears. “I am so sorry. Soon as I am a wee bit steadier, I will go and never bother ye again. I swear it.”
“Ye will not,” he said, probably louder than he should have by the way her eyes flared open wider. “Ye will not,” he repeated in a more mannerly tone. “That wee bastard should be thrashed for what he did to ye.”
“They canna help it. They fear I am a witch.” Her voice broke, and she tore her gaze from his, turning away and staring at the back of the bench as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trickled down into her hair. “And now ye know about me and all I had hoped to hide from ye.”
“I know ye are the kindest—loveliest…” He struggled to tell her all that she made him feel, all the ways she eased his terrible loneliness. But he couldn’t. To describe such unbelievable relief from the starkness of his torture was almost impossible. But he had to try. “Yer generous spirit. The purity of yer caring heart. My precious Ethne, ye make my existence so much easier to bear.” He brushed the backs of his fingers across the soft curve of her cheek. But for her own safety, he needed to convince her never to return. Yet he couldn’t make himself say the words. “Ye have brought so much comfort to this old cripple.”
She turned back and faced him, her eyes still shining with tears. “Ye are not an old cripple.” With the hesitancy of a skittish fawn, she reached out and touched his cheek below the rag covering his eye. “All I see is a courageous, caring man. Ye’ve treated me with more kindness than I have ever known.” Her smile faltered. “Who else would risk giving a witch shelter after watching her stoned?” Her bottom lip, so tempting, so kissable, barely quivered as she hitched in a teary sniff. “And the berries I promised ye all spilled out. I’m sure they’re trampled by now.”
“They dinna matter.” He clenched his teeth to keep from growling with pain as he shifted from his aching knees and sat beside her. A relieved huff escaped him as he leaned against the bench, took her hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “All that matters is that ye are safe.”
“But they were the sweetest berries—”
“Yer sweetness is all I need, dear lass.”
Her pallor disappeared and a lovely blush lent color to her cheeks. “Ye are such a fine man,” she whispered. “Will ye still not share yer name with me? I dinna ken what to call ye.”
“I have been alone so many years, I dinna remember it,” he lied.
She squeezed his hand and smiled. “Then we shall choose another. What name should ye have?”
“Aonarcomes to mind.” The Gaelic for alone. More appropriate than she would ever know. And he didn’t care what she called him as long as she kept coming to see him.
Her expression shifted to a gently scolding look that lightened his heart so much he almost laughed. “Ye dinna have to be alone anymore,” she said. “I meant what I said about ye coming home with me.” She blushed deeper and lowered her gaze. “Mama is there, and Rhona too, but ye can sleep in the spare room so ye willna be bothered by the rest of us.” She gave a soft laugh that sounded like the sweetest music. “Rhona snores something fierce. She says it’s me. But it’s her doing it.”
How he wished he could. But the curse forbade it. The last time he had tried to leave the ruins, even more excruciating pain than he already endured had sent him crawling back. Trying not to show his struggles with his misshapen body, he pushed himself to his feet and retrieved her cup. “Let me fetch ye some fresh water for a drink. Ye dinna need to sip from what I used to wash yer face.”
“Why do ye always do that?” Ethne rolled to her side, then eased herself up to a sitting position.
“Do what, lass?” He daren’t look at her. She might see into his fears, learn even more about his lonely soul.
“When ye dinna wish to answer something, ye act as though I never asked it.” Her tone held a soft accusation.
He returned with the water and held it out. “I willna become even more of a burden to ye, Ethne. My place is here. Ye already risk yer life coming here to bring me food.” His heart ached and dropped like a stone to the pit of his stomach. This dear lass deserved so much more. More than tending to an ailing mother. More than being stoned if the villagers saw her on the road. And it was all because of him. The selfish bastard who had brought down the anger of a demoness upon them all. “Drink, lass, andknow ye bring me all the comfort I deserve by brightening these shadows with yer light.”
She frowned up at him, ignoring the cup. “Ye are a good man, friend. I know it had to have caused ye unbearable pain to get me in here. Save me from the side of the road and from being stoned even more. I am not a fool. I see yer terrible suffering when ye’re merely trying to stand in place. Ye deserve better than living like a rat in the ruins.”
The caring in her eyes begged him to unburden his soul. The tenderness in her smile coaxed him to tell all. He fought it, for her sake and the sake of his own selfish need not to lose her. “Ye deserve better than me.”
He set the cup on the bench beside her and hobbled over to the westward window to check the horizon. The sun had just touched the sea. She needed to leave, and soon. A soft touch on his arm made him turn. She stood so close—smiling up at him and muddling his mind with her gentle persistence.
“Please come home with me,” she whispered. “I need ye as badly as ye need me.”
He almost choked on a sob as he cradled her cheek in his hand. “Ye have no idea what ye ask, dear one. For yer sake, I canna do so.” He let his hand drop and turned his gaze back to the horizon. “I see ye are much recovered. ’Tis a good thing. For now, ye must go.”
“I willna go without ye.” She took his hand, moved closer, and brushed a heart-stopping kiss to his cheek. “Come with me now. I shall help ye.” She pulled his arm across her shoulders, hugged his waist, and turned him toward the door.
It took every ounce of decency he possessed to pull away and stumble back. He didn’t want to send her away forever, but there appeared to be no other way. His selfishness had hurt others. Never would he hurt her. “No. I willna have it. Go now, Ethne.And dinna come back. Not ever. I dinna wish ye hurt any more than ye’ve already been.”
“Ye dinna mean that.” She jutted her chin upward, defiance flashing in her eyes. “Ye need me. Just as I need ye.”
“I dinna need ye,” he forced out, doing his best to sound angry. “Now go from here, witch!”
His heart shattered as her mouth dropped open and she stared at him, hurt and disbelief shouting from her. He turned away, unable to bear the pain he had caused, the pain he deserved. He fixed his gaze on the horizon, knowing the mist and the accursed pipes would come to him soon.
