‘I was only sixteen, Connor. I cannot undo the past. All I can do is try to heal it.’
‘Some wounds cannot be healed.’
Her glance turned toward his deformed hands. ‘No. Not all wounds.’
He caught her wrists, holding them still. ‘Tell me one thing, Aileen. Why did you take Lianna’s place? And do not say it was for the harvest. No girl would sacrifice her virginity to a stranger for such.’
‘You were never a stranger to me,’ she whispered. ‘You were my dream. A dream I couldn’t have.’ She knelt, tracing the roughened planes of his face with her palm.
But he didn’t kiss her. His warm skin might well have been made of iron instead of flesh, so remote he was.
‘Why is this fight so important to you?’ She dropped her hand away, angry at herself for reaching out to him. ‘Flynn will hurt you. Worse than he did the last time.’
‘I need to be the man I was before.’
‘And what if I want the man you are now?’ She bared her heart before him, even knowing he would hurt her.
‘Would you want a man without honour?’ he asked in return. ‘Do not ask me to stand aside like a coward.’
She lowered her head, realising that he would not be swayed. ‘I want you to live,’ she whispered. ‘For me and for our daughter. And if you insist upon sacrificing yourself for honour, then there is nothing left.’
His face held a thousand regrets. Cupping her cheek in his gnarled palm, he leaned forward. His lips met hers in a soft, unexpected kiss.
‘It’s better this way,a chroí.’
Chapter 19
When the grey sky of dawn broke forth, Connor and his four brothers rode through the fields of Laochre. He took strength from his brothers’ presence, though he had already warned them not to cross over into Flynn Ó Banníon’s territory. This was his battle, not theirs.
Three days remained before the Feast of Samhain. Connor forced his right hand around the hilt of his brother’s sword. The cool metal warmed beneath his palm, a mixture of steel inlaid with ivory. All throughout the ride, he focused his mind on the forthcoming battle. And still his thoughts dwelled upon Aileen.
She had wanted him to turn from the fight, like a coward. Why could she not see that his honour was all he had? In the past few days, she’d avoided him. He didn’t like to admit that he’d noticed it. He’d grown accustomed to sharing conversations with her.
And the taste of her hung upon his memory, the sweetness she’d offered.
What if I want the man you are now?she’d asked. He didn’t believe her. No woman wanted a malformed man who could not protect his family. Until he proved his strength, he had no right to stand in as Rhiannon’s true father.
In the past, he’d lived as a hired sword, travelling from one tribe to the next. The only hope of having a permanent home and family was by winning a position as a chieftain.
He glanced at his brother Patrick. Patrick had fought for the right to be king when their eldest brother Liam had fallen in battle. It was right for him to lead the tribe; he’d earned it. Even his brother Bevan had gained his own property by wedding a Norman lady.
Connor swallowed back the envy. Why could he not be content? Trahern and Ewan did not possess the same ambitions. He wished he could force his desires to be silent.
‘Are you ready for this fight?’ his brother Ewan asked when they stopped late in the afternoon to make camp. Worry furrowed the lad’s face. ‘I have not seen you training among the men.’
‘I oversaw his training,’ Patrick replied. ‘He is ready.’
Connor caught his gaze, sending silent thanks for Patrick’s confidence. Bevan, on the other hand, appeared doubtful.
‘Flynn Ó Banníon will not be an easy warrior to defeat. He knows your weaknesses.’
‘And I know his.’ The clipped response ended the discussion. Connor had trained as best he was able. Now he could only wait for his opportunity.
They tethered the horses, choosing a spot not far from a nearby stream. A running waterfall cascaded into a small pool. Not far, they found an earthen trench lined with wood. The cooking site meant that other hunters had camped here before. The trench held rainwater, and Ewan emptied his water skin into the cooking pit. He returned with more water from the pool until it was full.
When they had a fire ready, Trahern dropped several stones in the flames to grow hot for cooking. He passed Connor a horn of ale, his eyes wicked. ‘I’d like to be knowing more about your woman Aileen. And the girl who looks like our mother.’
‘She is my daughter,’ Connor admitted. ‘I only learned about Rhiannon a short time ago.’
