"Ye didnae look for me," Nessa told her. Just a flicker of vulnerability entered her tone at those words, but she stomped them out almost immediately. In a colder voice, she said, "Which I'm glad for, of course. Ye've sworn yer allegiance tae these rebels. By leavin' without me, ye were only doin' yer duty. As was I."
Maeve finally stepped forward. "Nessa, I think ye should come inside. We have a lot tae talk about, a lot tae discuss. And I think?—"
But Nessa shook her head. A sudden overwhelming exhaustion descended upon her, and she found it more difficult than she ever had in her life to remain standing. She could not do this now. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to do this. Nessa O'Sullivan had spent her whole life building up her composure, and she would not allow these two to shatter it here and now.
"I am tired," she said, which was not a lie. "It has been a long journey, and I need tae rest. Please, just take me tae me cell. If we must discuss things, let it be after I have had a chance tae sleep."
Breana took a few steps backward, and the two older sisters exchanged glances. Both of them surprised, though Breana's had an undercurrent of sadness while Maeve instead seemed a little annoyed.
"What do ye mean, cell?" Maeve demanded. "Do ye think I would bring ye all the way here tae throw ye in a cell? Dinnae be ridiculous." Then, as if she couldn't help herself, she added, "We arenae all the same as our father."
"Maeve, please," Breana said quietly. "That isnae helpful."
Cailean stepped forward, placing a placating hand on his wife's arm and addressing Nessa directly for the first time. She could not meet his eyes, remembering the last time she had seen him, standing on that stage awaiting his execution. "Welcome," he told her. "Go with Darren, if ye're tired. He will take ye tae yer room, and we can all have a talk later."
Darren took his cue and slipped an arm through Nessa's. "Come on," he said in her ear. "Let's go."
Nessa did not argue. She leaned on Darren's arm and went with him, using that tiny connection as the only comfort she had left. She would enter McNair Castle, and she would wait at her sisters' whims until the tides changed again. Because Nessa O'Sullivan had been born a pawn, and a pawn she would remain.There was nothing else left in the world that she could do otherwise.
The chamber to which Darren led Nessa was small, but not unpleasant. There was a small but comfortable-looking bed taking up the majority of one wall, clearly made for one person, along with a desk, a chair, a private partition for washing, a small wardrobe, and a shelf with a few books. The books were a surprise. Nessa was not a huge reader—she had never had time for stories, even though she knew her sisters had loved them—but she felt touched that someone had thought of giving her something to do while she passed her day in imprisonment.
"Were the books yer idea?" she asked Darren.
"Mine?" Darren asked. "Do I look like the readin' type?" He winked after saying it, and as had happened so many times since she'd met him, she couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
Sighing a little irritably at his incessant cheerfulness, Nessa stepped further into the room. There was only one decoration on the wall: a landscape painting of bluebell woods, the trees rising powerfully up into the frame, the grass carpeted with the beautiful blue wildflowers.
"Oh," she breathed. "Bluebells. They're me favorite flower."
Darren nodded. He leaned against the doorway, not quite entering the room, his arms folded as he watched her carefully. "Breana painted it. She wanted ye tae have somethin' that pleased ye in here. She's quite the artist, eh?"
Nessa blinked.Breana?She'd known that her sister liked to draw a little, but she'd never known that she had so much talent.
Overwhelmed, she flopped down to sit on the bed and looked up at Darren. He still stood there, half-in and half-out, watching her without speaking.
At last, she said, "Are ye just gonnae stand there?"
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows in a silly suggestive way. "Why? Did ye have a better idea?"
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Ye could come and sit down.Onlysit down."
Darren paused, seeming actually taken aback for a moment by the invitation, then did as she asked. He entered the room and sat down next to her on the bed, leaving a careful amount of space between them.
"Why do ye do that?" she asked.
"Do what? Sit?"
Nessa shook her head. "Nay. Why do ye flirt like that? Ye've been doin' it since the moment we met. It's like ye cannae help yerself but be ridiculous. Like ye never take yerself seriously at all."
Darren tilted his head and examined her face. "Ye're right," he said after a moment. "I never take meself seriously. But that doesnae mean that I'm nae genuine with me compliments and, aye, me flirtations too. I never make a suggestion that I would regret followin' through."
A shiver rippled across Nessa's skin at the implication of his words. He was sitting so close. She wondered what he would do if she moved closer. More of his dangerous games?
"I dinnae flirt," Nessa replied. "And so ye're engagin' with the wrong woman for such fancies. I have nae interest in such banter."
"I think ye do," Darren told her conversationally, leaning back in a relaxed fashion. "I think ye have interest in many more things than ye allow yerself tae believe. That's why ye invited me in instead of sendin' me away. That's why ye smiled so widelywhen ye saw those books and that paintin'." He reached out and, without seemingly a thought, took her hand. "There's a soul searchin' for joy in there. I'd love tae see what she can do when she's let free."
Nessa's pulse thrummed. She did not pull her hand away. "Is that what ye're lookin' for, then, with all of yer teasin'? Joy?"
