Hot tears swelled, but she held them back. He couldn’t forgive her, though, by Danu, she had done everything in her power. She had saved his only son’s life, two years ago, but even that could not erase Seamus’s grief. He was blind to everything but what he had lost.
‘I will speak with him now.’ Without waiting for a reply, Seamus spurred his mount forward.
Aileen’s stomach churned, and she stood upon the hillside in view of the sick hut. Her limbs felt wooden, her steps weary.
‘Aileen, wait!’ a young voice called from behind her. She turned and saw Lorcan. His dark hair bobbed as he ran toward her, skidding to a halt.
‘What is it, Lorcan?’
His small face held regret. ‘I am sorry. I shouldn’t have told him about the dead man.’ He shifted, studying the grass. ‘Well, I suppose he isn’t really dead.’
‘He would have been if you hadn’t brought me to him in the field that day.’ She reached out and tangled her fingers in his hair. ‘It’s all right.’
‘I didn’t mean to make him angry.’ He hugged her waist, looking up for forgiveness.
‘I know you didn’t.’ She released him. ‘Go on, then. You don’t want to get into trouble for speaking to me.’
Lorcan scurried off, and at the sight of him, her heart warmed. Always she would think of him as her foster—son. It was easier to walk the journey home after his impulsive embrace.
The sun nudged the horizon, rimming the land with gold. She walked slowly to her land, trying not to think about Seamus’s command. Her chance of redeeming herself as a healer was gone.
Connor’s face burned with fever, his hands throbbing with pain. When the door to the sick hut opened again, he heard a familiar voice murmur, ‘What has she done to you, young Connor?’
He raised his head and saw the face of his foster-father Seamus. Forcing a smile, he said, ‘Your healer Aileen has tied me to the bed, she has. I haven’t the strength to escape.’
His jest met with Seamus’s bark of laughter. ‘Then let me rescue you, my lad. Our healer can look at you.’ His lined face drew downward with concern. ‘How did this happen?’
‘I was falsely accused of seducing the Ó Banníon’s daughter. His men crushed my hands.’
Seamus cursed beneath his breath. ‘You can be assured I’ll be bringing this before thebrehons.’
Connor made no reply. ‘Later, perhaps.’ He gritted his teeth against the pain. ‘I understand you have a new healer.’
‘We do.’ He came closer and sat beside the pallet. ‘Illona Ó Banníon is her name.’
Connor showed no emotion at the mention of the Ó Banníon name. It seemed a cruel trick of the gods, to send the enemy in the form of a healer. ‘I won’t be seeing her.’
‘I can understand your anger, but I have forbidden Aileen to heal any more. She is too young and has not the skills.’
Connor glanced downward at his splinted hands, but he pushed back the feelings of doubt. He didn’t entirely trust Aileen’s healing either, but he wouldn’t consider letting the Ó Banníon healer touch his hands.
‘I’d rather she splint my hands than anyone bearing the Ó Banníon name.’
Seamus expelled a breath. ‘I’ve come to take you back with me.’
Though he knew Seamus meant well, he’d rather take his chances with Aileen. ‘I thank you for your offer, but I will be staying here.’
‘I cannot allow it.’
‘But you will. You know why I won’t trust the Ó Banníon healer. And here I can remain in isolation until I’ve healed. I don’t want to endure anyone’s pity.’
Seamus leaned back on his heels. ‘I do not like it, lad. Because of her…’ His voice trailed off.
There was pain in the man’s voice. Connor didn’t ask, for he knew whatever had happened would only bring up harsh memories. Instead, he took a deep breath, pushing back his own pain. ‘I make my own decisions. And here I will stay until I have my strength back.’
When Aileen reached the door to the sick hut, she found Connor lying upon the pallet, his face pale. Perspiration lined his brow, but he opened his eyes when she neared him.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded.
