‘It aches.’
She frowned, leading him back into the sick hut. An array of splints and bandages awaited him, and she adjusted the fingers of his right hand. ‘I’m going to bind this one again. Don’t use it for a few more days and it might be I can align the muscles.’
She wrapped his hand, her attention upon his palm. Yet a spiral of heat rushed through him. It tormented him, not being able to touch her. As she reached for one of the gnarled fingers, she winced. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment, for the finger looked more like it belonged to an animal than a man.
‘You lied to me,’ she said softly. ‘You’re in far more pain than you’ve said.’
‘A warrior is accustomed to pain. It matters not.’
‘I can give you a potion to ease your suffering.’
‘I don’t need to sleep my days away, Aileen.’ When she’d finished tying up the splints, he softened his tone. ‘How are Bridget and her baby?’
A wistful smile edged her face. ‘The baby is sweet. She’s fallen asleep in my arms a time or two.’
‘You see them every day?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve said to Bridget it’s to look in on them, but, in truth, I want to hold the babe. It’s been so long since I’ve held Rhiannon.’
‘You should have more children,’ he said.
Her smile disappeared. ‘I would need a husband for that. And I’ve no wish to marry at the moment.’ Her face flamed, and Connor recalled Riordan’s unwanted attention.
She suddenly tilted her head. ‘And why is it you’ve never married?’
‘I’ve no land,’ he said. ‘Few chieftain’s daughters would welcome such a poor prospect as myself.’
‘Surely your father would have given you a little property.’
Connor shrugged. ‘The land he gave was hardly more than a small plot. I gave it back to my elder brother. I receive income from the rents, but I haven’t a fortress of my own.’
‘Do you need one? Can you not be happy as a farmer?’ There was a hint of teasing beneath her question.
‘I wish I could.’ He knew he should not want more than he had. But it bothered him that his brother should have command of a vast fortress and thousands of acres of land, while he could not hold the same. His fighting skills were strong enough to become a king himself. But he’d never dream of challenging Patrick for the honour. He respected his eldest brother too much.
‘What will you do after you leave?’ she asked. There was a trace of pity in her voice, and he stiffened.
‘Return home. Train until I must face Ó Banníon.’
‘And if you lose?’
His smile held no humour. ‘I’ll be dead, and it won’t matter, will it?’
‘This is not a fight to the death, Connor.’
‘It will be.’
He did not wait to see her reaction, but used his left hand to open the door. To his surprise, a group of boys waited for him atop the hillside. Their ages ranged from young Lorcan to a few lads old enough to be a squire. Some held wooden swords, a few possessed daggers, and the smallest lad proudly held a stout tree limb.
‘Your army regiment is here,’ Aileen remarked drily.
Lorcan stepped forward, a wide smile creasing his boyish face. He pushed a lock of dark brown hair to the side. ‘I come with a message from our chieftain. Seamus Ó Duinne wishes for you and Aileen to dine with him this night.’ He bowed at the completion of his message. ‘What reply should I send?’
Connor exchanged a look with Aileen, who inclined her head. ‘We accept the invitation of our chieftain.’
‘Be there before sundown,’ Lorcan urged.
From their eager stance, Connor asked, ‘Was there anything else you wanted?’
