As Deirdre glided toward Aileen, men watched her with longing. Aileen shook her head in disgust. Could they not see the woman for what she truly was? Or did they see her as the chieftain’s daughter, a woman who might advance their own stature?
When Deirdre reached them, she offered a sugary smile to her father. ‘Father, I did not know we had more visitors.’
‘The MacEgans have come to witness the fight this eve.’
Deirdre extended her hands to Patrick. ‘I welcome you to our home.’ Signalling a servant, she added, ‘Would you care for a cup of mead or some refreshments?’
Patrick glanced at his brothers, as if making a silent decision. Then, ‘We accept your offer of hospitality.’
The brilliant smile across Deirdre’s face was genuine. ‘Please sit down and I will see to it.’ Then she turned to Aileen. ‘My ladies are above stairs. If you would like to rest and join us after the meal, you may.’
Aileen’s suspicions rose. Still, she might learn more from Deirdre than from remaining with the men. ‘Thank you.’
Servants brought a light repast of roasted mutton, bread, cheese and salmon. Ewan stuffed himself, attacking the food as though he had not eaten in a fortnight.
‘Slow down, lad,’ Trahern advised. ‘The food won’t be running away from you.’
‘I remember when I could eat as he does,’ Patrick remarked. ‘Let him be, Trahern. He needs more muscle if he’s to be one of our warriors.’ Ewan’s ears turned pink at the praise, and Aileen could see the young man’s pride at the words.
Although she could not fault the food or drink, Aileen only picked at the bread. Her insides clenched with fear, and it hurt knowing that she could not see Connor. Even so, he had asked her not to come. Her presence was a distraction and not a welcome one.
‘Come,’ Deirdre bade her, beckoning toward a narrow staircase.
Aileen tried to behave as though nothing were amiss, but it was difficult to forget she was among the enemy. Were it not for Deirdre, none of this would have happened. Her anger rose higher, indignant that a woman’s lies could bring forth a man’s death.
When they reached the chamber, Deirdre dismissed her ladies. Aileen crossed her arms, unsure of Deirdre’s purpose.
‘Please, sit down. I have seen you before, but we’ve not met.’
‘I am Aileen Ó Duinne, once the healer of our tribe.’
‘And I am Deirdre Ó Banníon, daughter of Flynn Ó Banníon.’ Though the words were a mere greeting, Aileen felt as though each had drawn a verbal sword.
She chose a chair carefully, all instincts alerted. What did Deirdre want from her?
She folded her hands and sat across from Aileen. Her pale face revealed a great deal of pain, all pretense of hospitality gone.
‘I don’t want him to die,’ she said gently. ‘That was not what I intended at all.’
‘Your lies caused him to suffer.’ Aileen refused to offer any mercy or pity. ‘If you confess the truth, we could both stop this battle.’
‘Neither of us can, and you know it. Both of them are too proud.’
‘If there is naught either of us can do, why did you wish to speak to me?’
Deirdre smoothed her skirts, her gaze stopping upon Aileen’s travel-stained gown. Aileen grew conscious of her own worn appearance. She should have brought anotherléine, but at the time her only thoughts were of Connor.
‘You are his woman, aren’t you?’
‘I am.’
At the admission, Deirdre’s eyes hardened. ‘I can see that you are in love with him. What I wish to know is, if you could save his life by giving him up, would you do it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My father listens to me. I can bargain with him on Connor’s behalf.’
‘You said that neither of us could stop the fight.’
