Chapter One
Ireland, 1102 AD
“He’sgoingtodie,isn’t he?” Iseult MacFergus stared down at the bruised body of the man. Lash marks creased his back, raw and unhealed. His skin was pale with hard ridges of bone protruding, as though he had not eaten well in several moons. Her mind rebelled at the thought of the torment this captive must have suffered.
Davin Ó Falvey handed her a basin of cool water. “I don’t know. Likely I wasted a good deal of silver.”
Iseult sponged at the blood, lowering her eyes. “We don’t need a slave for our household, Davin. You shouldn’t have purchased him.” It was becoming less common among the tribes to own slaves. Her own family had never been able to afford them, and it made her uncomfortable, remembering her lower status.
“Someone else would have, if I hadn’t.” He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “He was suffering,a stór. At the auction, they beat him until he could no longer stand. I was trying to save his life.”
She covered Davin’s hands with her own. Her betrothed was never one to let a man endure pain, not when he could intervene. It was one of the reasons he was her dearest friend and the man she had agreed to marry.
A hollow feeling settled in her stomach. Davin deserved a better woman than herself. She had done what she could to salvage her torn reputation, but the gossip had not died down, not in three years. She didn’t know why he’d offered for her, but her family had seized the opportunity for the alliance. It wasn’t every day that a blacksmith’s daughter could marry a chieftain’s son.
“Let the healer tend him,” Davin urged, his voice turning heated. She recognized the intent in his words, along with the hidden invitation. “Walk with me, Iseult. I haven’t seen you in a sennight, and I’ve missed you.”
She stiffened but forced a smile.Go with him, her head urged. Though Davin had never once held her to blame for her sins, she felt unworthy of his love.
After summoning the healer, Davin took her hand and led her outside. The moon cast its shadow across his face. With fair hair and piercing blue eyes, Davin was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He drew her hand to his bearded cheek. Apprehension sliced through her, for she knew he was about to kiss her. She accepted his embrace, wishing she could feel the same ardor he felt for her.
Give it time, she urged. But even when she poured herself into the kiss, it was as if she stood outside her body, an observer instead of a participant.
He held her closely, whispering against her ear. “I know you don’t wish to become lovers before Bealtaine. But I’d be a fool if I didn’t try to convince you.”
She pulled back, her gaze cast downward. “I can’t.”
Her face brightened with shame, even now. The thought of lying with a man, any man, only brought back terrible memories.
Tension knotted across Davin’s face, but he did not press further. “I would never ask you to do anything you don’t want.”
And that was why she felt even guiltier. She didn’t want to lie with him, but what kind of woman did that make her? She’d surrendered to a moment of passion years ago, and had paid the price. But now that a man loved her and wanted to marry her, she couldn’t seem to let go of the bad memories.
Davin dropped a hand across her shoulders, kissing her temple. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
He walked her back to her dwelling within the ringfort, his hand holding hers. When they reached the hut, Iseult paused beside the wooden door frame, as though it were a shield.
“What will you do with the slave?”
“I don’t know yet. Possibly he can help with the crops or tend the horses. I’ll speak to him once he’s awake.”
“I will see you in the morning,” Davin said, regret edging his tone. He kissed her lips again. “See what you can do to keep our slave alive.”
Iseult nodded, ducking inside the house. For a moment she stood at the entrance, gathering her thoughts. Why couldn’t she feel the blaze of ardor that women spoke of? Davin’s kisses and affection evoked nothing but emptiness.
What was wrong with her? He, of all men, deserved to be loved. He treated her like a cherished treasure, offering her anything she wanted. It made her feel unworthy of him.
Her heart heavy, she walked inside to join the others. Muirne and her family were busy setting out food for the evening meal. Though the Ó Falveys were not her kin, they’d willingly opened their doors to her, granting her hospitality. Because of them, she had a place to stay while growing accustomed to her new tribe.
And bless them, it kept her from having to live with Davin’s mother. The chieftain’s wife didn’t like her at all and made no secret of it.
“Who was the man Davin brought with him?” Muirne asked. A stout, raven-haired woman who had borne seven children, she fussed over Iseult as though she were one of her own. Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “You haven’t eaten this night. Come and sit with us.” She gestured toward the low table where her other foster-children sat, teasing one another as they devoured their food.
“He was a slave,” Iseult answered. “Half-dead from what I understand.”
“Well, that’s not much of a purchase.” Muirne rolled her eyes and handed Iseult a plate of salted mackerel and roasted carrots. “But that’s Davin for you.” She smiled as if speaking of a saint.
“Mother, may I have more fish?” one of the boys asked.
