Rhiannon. The name of his daughter filled him with apprehension and humility. He wanted to know her better, to ease the resentment the girl felt toward him.
Patrick’s gaze narrowed. ‘Aileen should have told you about her long before this.’
‘It was as much my own fault as hers,’ Connor said. He took a drink from the horn, passing it to Bevan.
‘Do you intend to wed Aileen?’ Trahern asked.
The question caught him unprepared. ‘I do not know.’
He hadn’t allowed himself to envision a future. His attentions were tightly locked upon the outcome of this fight. Blinded, he was, to anything past it. He didn’t dare imagine his prospects afterward.
Patrick and Bevan sent each other a silent look, one which Connor ignored. He could live without their speculations. It was none of their affair.
Trahern removed the hot stones from the fire and used a heavy cloth to drop them into the water-filled trench. Steam hissed and in time the water boiled. Patrick handed a haunch of venison to Trahern, who wrapped the meat in straw and tied it up. Trahern placed the meat inside the boiling water to cook, and later entertained them with stories while they relaxed in front of the fire.
As the afternoon drifted into evening, Connor studied each of his brother’s faces. They had come to offer their support to him, refusing to let him take this journey alone. He was grateful for it. And he prayed that this would not be the last time he saw them. He didn’t want to die, but a part of him was aware of his limitations. This battle would stretch every fibre of his strength, pushing him until he had nothing left to give.
A rustling noise made the men draw their swords. A single rider emerged in the darkness, and he saw Aileen dismount.
Her dark hair had come loose from its braid, long tendrils framing her face. She had ridden quickly, breathing hard at the pace.
Connor caught the mare’s reins and helped her down. ‘What is it? Is something amiss?’
Shadows of exhaustion lined her face when she stood before him. ‘Yes, something is amiss. You left us behind without saying goodbye.’
Her hands reached up to his shoulders. In her eyes he saw apprehension and pain. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘If you want me to go, I’ll leave. But I wanted to see you before the fight.’ Her hand moved to his hair, and a raw need reached inside him, taking apart all his reasons for denying her.
‘Don’t go,’ he said. His thumb caressed her temple, and he pulled her body close to his. The scent of crushed sage flooded his senses. Though he believed there was no future for them, it felt right to have her here.
Aileen cast a look toward his brothers. ‘Is there some place private where we may speak?’
Connor took her hand and walked with her into a grove of trees. Soft ferns carpeted the ground, fading sunlight glowing through the trees. When they reached a rocky area, the sound of a small waterfall greeted them.
Aileen sat down, releasing his hand. Her heart pounded furiously, her mind unable to think clearly. When she’d learned of his departure, it was as though someone had squeezed the very breath from her body. She couldn’t allow him to leave, not without telling him how she felt.
But now, her tongue could not form the words she wanted. She couldn’t let him go to Flynn Ó Banníon without being with him. Even if she had to watch him die, she could not remain at home. Waiting was the worst form of torment.
‘Why have you come?’ He knelt down beside her, hunkered upon one knee. In the dim evening light, his dark gold hair gleamed. She reached out to bring his face close to hers.
‘Because I made a mistake seven years ago.’ She leaned in so her forehead touched his own. ‘And I need your forgiveness.’
Connor pulled back. His thumb caressed the curve of her jaw, and she shivered at the dark look in his eyes. ‘Please.’
He lowered her onto the grass, his mouth hungry against her own. She tasted desire and desperation, mixed with a need so great it stole her senses.
When he ended the kiss, she unlaced his tunic and raised it over his head. Her breath shook when she saw the expanse of muscle and skin. He had indeed been training. Not a trace of excess flesh broke the firm planes. She traced every ridge, possessing him with her touch.
‘I love you, Connor. And I need to be with you. Even if you die.’
‘You still believe I will lose.’
Beneath his austere tone, she sensed his own fear.
‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly. ‘But though I may not understand your desire to fight, I will stand by you.’
She could not read his response. He made no move to caress her skin, to love her the way she wanted him to. He was deeply aroused, she could feel it through the soft fabric of his trews. And yet, he held himself back.
‘And afterwards?’ he asked. ‘What do you want from me, Aileen?’ He rolled to his side to regard her. ‘Do you think I’ll become a farmer?’
