‘Do as you are told,a iníon,’ Aileen cautioned. ‘I expect good manners from you.’
‘And what of him?’ Rhiannon sent a glare toward Ewan. ‘He isn’t showing good manners. He keeps staring at me.’
‘Perhaps it is because you are fair of face.’
‘But he is a boy, Mother!’ Rhiannon’s reaction of horror made Aileen want to laugh.
‘He is also your uncle,’ Aileen added. Rhiannon did not look reassured.
She scowled. ‘He won’t be telling me what to do.’
Aileen did not comment. After the servants took away the basins and they donned their sandals, she followed Isabel above stairs. Rhiannon trailed behind them, studying the stone fortress with interest.
Outside one of the rooms, she heard the clanging of swords. Aileen sent a questioning look toward Isabel, who nodded.
‘My husband and Connor are inside. Would you like to wait for them?’
Aileen shook her head. ‘Take Rhiannon, if you wouldn’t mind. I will join you in a moment.’
The vicious clanging of swords sounded from inside. Connor could not possibly handle such brutal abuse against his hands. Aileen opened the door quietly, her mind reeling with ways to mend the swelling and pain.
The sword fight moved with deadly force. Connor blocked each strike of his brother’s blade, but Aileen gripped her hands as if she were the one fighting. This was more than a practice sparring.
Patrick MacEgan moved with an uncanny swiftness. Their feet glided, swords meeting one another until they circled near her. Connor’s attention lapsed for a brief second, and his brother exploded with rage.
‘I could have killed you! Keep your mind centred and away from distractions.’
Aileen drew back against the wall, both men staring at her with anger. ‘I am sorry. I should not have interrupted.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Connor demanded. Sweat beaded his face, his fair hair tied back. His grey eyes raked over her, and her cheeks grew hot.
The fierce anger in his expression made her want to retreat. The knots in her stomach twisted with the pain of seeing him again.
‘I brought Rhiannon,’ she said. Her tongue stumbled over the words. ‘I thought—’
‘We’ll continue this conversation in private,’ Connor said, opening the door and giving his brother a go-away stare. ‘I shall see you later, Patrick.’
‘Who is she?’ the King demanded. He sheathed his sword but did not hide his displeasure.
‘I am Aileen Ó Duinne,’ she answered. ‘The woman who healed your brother.’ She raised her knee in a gesture of courtesy and tried to keep her posture straight. Even so, her mind was a mess of torn feelings.
‘You caused him to lose his focus,’ Patrick accused. ‘He needs no distraction from his training.’
Aileen fisted her hands, her throat closing up with unshed tears. He was right. Though her daughter deserved to be here, she did not.
Connor gestured for his brother to leave. ‘I will deal with Aileen, Patrick.’
When the door closed, Connor drew the heavy wooden bolt across it. ‘Why did you come?’
Aileen stood before him, her heart trembling with dread. She lifted her face to meet his eyes. Beneath the rigid cast to his jaw was the man who had made love to her and the father of her child. Though she understood that he despised her, she wanted his forgiveness.
‘There were things left unsaid.’ She took a step forward, her body fully aware of his strength. Connor didn’t move, but she saw the flash of interest in his darkened gaze. He hadn’t forgotten the way it had been between them.
Before she could lose her courage, she raised her palms to his chest. It was meant as a plea, but his heartbeat quickened beneath her touch. She saw him fighting against his desires, in the way his mouth tightened. He looked as though he might push her away at any moment.
‘What was left unsaid?’
Years seemed to slip by in that single moment. Every word she wanted to say died upon her lips when his hands covered hers. The man before her was consumed by vengeance. He didn’t want her here.
