But without warning, his mouth descended upon hers, urgent and warm. His scent filled her, his strong arms holding her close. The kiss sent waves of longing through her body, his touch awakening her. Her breasts tightened, her womb aching to feel him inside.
She kissed him back, her hands wrapping around his neck. With eyes closed, she could almost imagine that he cared for her.
Then he broke the kiss as if she’d burned him. ‘You know better than to pursue this, Aileen. We aren’t meant to be.’
The resolution in his tone was a razor against her heart. She let her hands fall to her sides. ‘And what of your daughter? Will you turn her away, too?’
‘You told her about me.’
‘She deserved to know the truth.’
‘Then why did you not tell her the truth, years ago?’
She expelled a ragged breath. ‘I was afraid. And Eachan loved her so.’
‘You were right to let her believe the illusion.’
Her spirits plummeted. When had he changed his mind? ‘You don’t want her?’ She could not believe he would turn his own child away.
His gaze remained firm. ‘Don’t give her false hope, Aileen. Until Samhain, it is best if you both keep your distance.’
She doubted if that were true. Even if he did survive the battle against Flynn Ó Banníon, something had changed between them. No longer sheltered from the rest of the world, here in his brother’s domain Connor had transformed into the Irish warrior she’d idolised as a girl. Stoic and fierce, she could see no forgiveness within him.
This man was as unreachable as the stars. ‘You want me to leave,’ she whispered.
‘That would be for the best.’ He opened the door, and as Aileen stepped through it, she cursed herself for opening her heart to him.
Chapter 18
Connor groaned inwardly. He never should have kissed her. As soon as he’d touched Aileen, his body remembered the sensation of loving her. He wanted her in his bed, craved her with an insatiable hunger.
If she didn’t leave, it would kill him. He’d lied when he said he didn’t want her here. By the gods above, he wanted her.
She’d brought Rhiannon to him. He didn’t know what to think about her gesture. He wanted to know his daughter, but not like this. Though the daily training with his brother had helped immensely, their healer bound his hands each night. He often drank painkilling brews, pushing his body to its limits.
He refused to accept himself as less than a whole man. And he could never assume the role of father or husband until he regained his strength.
He opened the door to his chamber and was startled to see Rhiannon sitting there. The girl raised a finger to her lips. ‘They’re looking for me.’
‘You should not be in here.’
She crossed her arms and sent him a resentful look. ‘You are not my father. No matter what she says, it isn’t true. Eachan Ó Duinne was my father.’
‘He was,’ Connor agreed. ‘In every way that I could not be.’ Behind the angry words, he saw the girl’s pain. Her world had come apart with Aileen’s confession.
‘I won’t be your daughter.’ She lifted her chin with stubbornness. ‘You cannot make me.’
It was like watching his mother scold him once more. Her stance, the way she glared at him—every inch of her was a MacEgan.
‘Your mother will be worried about you,’ he cautioned. ‘Perhaps you should go and find her.’
She seemed relieved that he did not argue with her. ‘On the morrow, we will return home.’
‘If that is your wish.’ He said nothing about Aileen’s banishment but poured water into a basin and wiped the sweat from his face. Rhiannon waited and handed him a drying cloth.
‘Your hands are still bent.’
‘They are, yes.’
