‘And too much of it you’ve tasted,’ Riona argued. ‘Between the wine and your poteen, it’s a wonder you haven’t pickled your insides with as many barrels as you’ve drunk.’
Aileen hid her smile behind the goblet. She sat beside Connor at the table, their knees brushing. A harpist entered the room and began to play a light melody as the servants brought in the first course of food.
The evening progressed as though within a dream, for she was aware of Connor’s eyes upon her. Aileen found herself conscious of his every move. He offered her choice pieces of the roasted pork, his fingers brushing against hers as he passed the meat to her.
She fought her body’s reaction, wishing he did not tempt her so. At this very moment, she longed to feel his embrace, to taste the warmth of his mouth. She wanted his kiss against her throat, her breasts, even touching her most secret place. Her gown had grown overly warm, and she drank the remainder of her wine to press away the unwanted feelings.
The haze of the drink buzzed in her ears, but at one moment she stared at him. By the blessed Belisama, he was handsome. His gold hair was pulled back with a leather thong, his warrior’s face strong and chiselled. Her attention was drawn to his mouth, the masculine lips that had brought her so much pleasure.
She closed her eyes, as if to shut out the temptation.
‘Do you want more?’ he asked, holding the pitcher of wine. His voice allured her with its low timbre. Dark grey eyes burned into hers, mirroring her own desire.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. His returning look seared her as he filled her cup. Despite her lightheaded state, she was aware of her actions. She was a grown woman with needs. And here was the man she’d always dreamed of, looking at her with the same desire. She should take what he offered, even at the risk to her heart. It might be her only chance.
Seamus coughed, drawing her attention back to their host. ‘I want to ask why you’ve challenged Flynn Ó Banníon.’
In her chieftain’s gaze, Aileen saw the concern. He knew, as she did, that if Connor raised his sword against Ó Banníon, he would be defeated.
‘If it is a question of payment—’ Seamus said.
‘No. He owes me a fine, as well. Thebrehonswanted an even exchange.’
‘Then why will you not take it?’
Connor’s expression darkened into shielded rage. ‘Because it is my honour we speak of. I have done nothing against his daughter. If I accept this agreement, I am admitting a false guilt.’
Seamus’s face coloured, but he shrugged. ‘Why should you risk your life over a mistake?’
‘Because I want my vengeance. He took away my fighting skills, my ability to support a family.’
Aileen’s heart constricted. There was his true reason for wanting to face Flynn Ó Banníon. He didn’t believe himself to be a man any more, nor could he have the family he wanted. His hands had not been crushed. It was his dreams.
She suddenly saw past his shield of pride. Just as she was willing to risk everything to be a healer again, he would sacrifice his life for honour.
If he regained his strength, would he become a chieftain or a king? Would he reign over a land with sons to train as he had Lorcan and Whelon? Her eyes blurred, for she could envision the dream as surely as though it were her own.
But if he failed, he would pay the ultimate price. ‘What if you die?’ she whispered, her throat closing up with tears.
His gaze hardened to stone. ‘I am already dead, Aileen. But in this way, I can die knowing that I faced my enemy. I’ll not die a coward.’
The finality in his voice made her understand that nothing would stop him from this battle.
He didn’t have the strength, not against a master swordsman like Flynn Ó Banníon. Even without his wounded hands, such a battle was an invitation to death. She knew he would fail.
‘You’ll die a fool,’ she whispered, unable to listen any more. She rose from the table, blinking back the hot tears. ‘I am sorry, Seamus and Riona, but I must go.’ She refused to look back at Connor.
Outside, she passed through the gates, hearing the night sounds of a fire crackling and muted conversations. She accepted a torch from one of the soldiers and walked into the open field. The fire cast a golden glow against the grasses, and this time she gave rein to her feelings. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks. She couldn’t bear to think of Connor dying.
Footsteps moved behind her. She did not move, knowing it was Connor who followed.
‘Why is it, I wonder, that you have worked to help me regain my strength when you believe I’ll die?’
‘Because I promised,’ she responded. Turning, she added, ‘And I keep my promises.’
He touched a hand to her shoulder. ‘Wait. Please.’
She paused, allowing him to face her. ‘What more do you want from me, Connor?’
