A gleam of possession ignited in his eyes. Riordan pulled her tightly against him. He tilted her head back and kissed her lips with unrestrained ardour. Aileen accepted the kiss and tried to make herself kiss him back. Yet her lips seemed to be made of stone.
Why can’t I feel anything for him?she wondered.What is wrong with me?
When she turned back to Connor, he had gone. Her spirits sank, for she had behaved like a silly maid trying to make her suitor jealous. Already she regretted her actions. She braced herself to watch the wrestling match, ignoring the sounds of the men grunting and trying to crush one another.
And all the while, her eyes searched for a glimpse of Connor in the crowd.
‘Thebrehonsare waiting to hear your case,’ Niall told Connor. ‘They are inside the tent.’
He already knew what the judges would say. They would levy a fine upon the Ó Banníons. But accepting payment for the loss of his hands was unthinkable.
‘Is Deirdre with them?’ Connor asked.
Niall inclined his head, his expression unreadable. ‘She is.’
Connor’s defences rose, stretching his patience thin. He lifted the entrance flap of the tent set aside for thebrehons. Morann Ó Duinne sat upon a low stool, his long ashen beard curling almost to the ground. A shock of white hair covered his pate, and legend told that his black eyes could pierce the heart of a complicated case and bring it to justice. Two other tribe members, one from the Ó Duinne tribe and the other from the Ó Banníon tribe, nodded in greeting.
Morann’s eyes studied Connor’s hands before his gaze flickered to Deirdre. Demure and quiet, she bit her lower lip like a recalcitrant child. Her pale skin made her appear the victim.
They would believe Deirdre’s tearful testimony, that he had taken her virtue. Connor clenched his fists, relishing the pain of it. It reminded him of what he’d lost, all because of her.
He didn’t deny his own mistakes. Had he remained alone without female company, this might not have happened. He had accepted the warm embraces of willing maidens, and now he had paid the price for it.
‘I have already heard the details from Seamus so I would ask Connor to explain his injuries.’ Morann turned to Flynn Ó Banníon. ‘Then I shall hear your grievances. We will decide upon theeraicfine to settle the matter.’
Flynn wore his battle armour from the tournament earlier this morn. A corselet formed from bull-hide leather stretched across his chest, scarred with the markings of swords. Beneath it, his saffron tunic was made of silk. A battleaxe hung at his side, the copper blade shining in the afternoon sunlight. An experienced war leader and chieftain, Flynn held the respect of his people as one of their greatest warriors.
For a full season Connor had fought among Flynn’s ranks, drinking in knowledge from a true master. To see him now, an enraged leader with no remorse for his deed, only deepened Connor’s hatred.
He watched the eyes of his enemy. His need for vengeance curled into a thundering storm of anger. He wanted Flynn to feel the crushing weight of the stones, to know the pain he had endured in his hands. He craved justice.
But even as he stared into the chieftain’s eyes, he knew it would not happen. ‘You believe her lies still, I see.’
‘My daughter would never lie about a matter such as this.’ Rage deepened upon Flynn’s face. ‘You hurt her—’
‘I never touched her.’
Quiet tears rolled down Deirdre’s face. Disgust filled him at her illusion.
‘I would see your hands, Connor MacEgan.’ Thebrehonjudge gestured for him to reveal his wounds. Connor extended the gnarled fingers of his right hand. None could deny the injury.
‘Have you regained full use of them?’ Morann inquired.
Never would he admit his weakness before Flynn. ‘I have.’
‘No—’ another voice interrupted. Aileen entered the tent at that moment. Her chestnut braid hung against her hips, her sage eyes staring at Morann as though she could influence the outcome by her very presence.
What was she doing here? Alarm rose within him, his pride bristling.
‘As the healer of the Ó Duinne tribe, I can testify that his hands will not regain their full use.’
‘I have been told that you are no longer the healer,’ Morann responded.
Aileen paled, but stood bravely. ‘I tended his wounds. And I know that he deserves fulleraicpayment for the loss.’
‘She is wrong,’ Connor responded. Though he understood her intent, the admission made him appear weak before his enemy. He could not allow the Ó Banníons to view him as defenceless.
Morann waved a hand in dismissal of Connor’s argument. ‘I can see for myself the evidence. There is no need to discuss this further. Flynn Ó Banníon, do you deny that you intentionally broke Connor MacEgan’s hands and wrists?’
