Chapter Twenty
The Truth
It had now been a week since Eithne and Ivor had arrived at her uncle’s keep with Callum in tow. She knew that even having Ivor around for this long was luckier than she could rightly have expected to be – and yet when he’d announced to her after dinner that he’d be leaving the next morning, she felt like the least fortunate woman in the world.
With a grunt, he pressed his lips to her own and then rolled off her, both of them covered in sweat as they finished making love for what might be the last time.
The cold air nipped at her exposed breasts, and she shivered, but Ivor seemed to know exactly what she needed, just like he always did. He pulled the woolen blanket up to cover her, then turned on his side to face her, his chest heaving underneath the wild curled hair that she loved to run her fingers through.
“Oh, Ivor,” she said, turning to face him. She touched his cheek gently, her body feeling strangely empty now that he’d left it. “Me darling Ivor. I only wish—”
“I ken,” Ivor said softly. “And I wish ye could come with me. I cannae stay here, though—Ye ken that. Ye’ve seen how yer cousins and uncle look at me and how I keep messing up yer customs. And ye cannae leave yer sister, nae when MacDuff is still out there, and ye’ve already lost so much.”
Eithne bit her lip, determined not to cry. She’d told herself again and again that when it was time to go, she’d let him, but it just felt so monstrously unfair. “Ye’ll take Callum with ye? And Mossie as well?” she asked, trying to keep the subject away from her own pain.
“Aye,” he said softly. He ran the back of one finger down her cheek, tucking back her hair affectionately. She was going to miss how it felt when he did that. “The lad willnae go anywhere without the pup, and I’m finding I cannae go anywhere without the lad. We’re both wanderers with no family. Maybe we can be that to each other.”
“And me?” Eithne couldn’t help but ask. She tried to keep it in, but it burst out of her. “What of me? What of me sister? Can we not be yer family? I could be yer wife, Ivor. Naebody would care where ye came from. We dinnae even need to stay in the castle. We can go get a cottage somewhere…”
But he was already shaking his head, breaking her heart a little more with each gesture. “Please dinnae do this, Eithne,” he muttered. “Please. Me poor heart cannae take it. It isnae that I dinnae care for ye, or that I dinnae want to be with ye, or even that I havenae thought about the idea of being yer husband. It’s…me. I’m the problem. Ye need someone else, someone better.”
“I dinnae understand,” she protested, frustrated as much as she was sad. “What is it that keeps ye wandering? Why is me love nae enough to make ye stay?”
Ivor was silent for so long that, in the darkness of the night outside, Eithne began to think he’d fallen asleep. She waited, then gave in, turning her back to him and closing her eyes. Perhaps if she could just sleep, she’d feel better in the morning. Maybe…
“I had a sister,” Ivor said roughly. Her name was Iona, and she’s dead. She’s dead because of me.”
Eithne’s eyes flew open in surprise. She didn’t dare turn back and face him again. She could sense how raw he felt as he said those words. “I ken. Ye told me before. Ye said that she died with yer parents…the fire…”
“I lied,” he said. His voice was thick, and she thought he might be crying, but she didn’t look round to check. “I lied because I’ve lied to everyone since it happened. I’ve never told anyone the whole truth. Nae even Killian. But I’m gonnae tell ye, Eithne, because ye need to understand why it’s better for ye to love someone who deserves it.”
Eithne held her breath, her heart thumping erratically. It didn’t matter what he said – she knew that she loved him. But she let him speak because the curiosity threatened to overwhelm her.
Am I finally about to find out why he doesnae want to stay in one place?
And so Ivor told her about Iona. He told her how he’d cared for his sister and traveled with her; he told her how she’d gotten sick. He told her how young he’d been when he started mercenary work just to keep his sister safe and alive. He told her how he’d failed her, and she’d died anyway, right there in front of his eyes.
“She wanted nothing more than a place to rest and call home,” Ivor said in that same strange voice. “And I wanted nothing more than to give it to her. When she died, I kent that I’d never deserved to have it alone because I could never provide it for her. That’s why I need to keep moving, Eithne. It’s me penance. It’s the only way I can begin to make up for failing me wee sister.”
Eithne had started to sob halfway through his tale, and now she turned back and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s a terrible, terrible story,” she sobbed. “And now I ken how ye kent so well how I felt losing everything. But, Ivor, me love, ye must ken it wasnae yer fault. Ye were a lad, and she was sick and suffering, and—”
“Me own fault or not, I failed her,” Ivor murmured. His breath was hot on her ear as they held each other. “And I must pay for it. I dinnae think happiness exists for me, nae anymore, but it can exist for ye, Eithne. When I leave, promise me ye’ll keep living. Promise me ye’ll move on and allow yerself to fall in love again. Dinnae let me fail you as well.”
In response, she simply kissed him. Their lips molded together so naturally that it was like breathing, and when their bodies started to move, it was a familiar dance. She kissed and touched and tasted everywhere, exploring every part of him, placing her claim on a man who would soon be gone from her life forever.
He responded just as enthusiastically. There was nothing hurried about it, nothing overly passionate or needy, not this time. They took their time with each other, treating each other so gently it was almost like they were two glass objects ready to break. She felt his responding love through his touches, felt her body sing with how right it felt to be in his arms.
When they peaked, they peaked together, and for that moment, they were away from the world, away from pain, just lost in joy and pleasure and one another.
“I love ye, Ivor,” she breathed when they were done once more. Her head rested on his chest, her arm around his waist. “I’ll live, and I’ll grow, but I’ll never love as I love ye.”
He kissed her hair, running a hand down her arm. “Ye deserve better, Eithne,” he warned her. “And I cannae be what ye need.”
“I ken,” she said. “But I dinnae care. If – when – ye realize that by me side is where ye belong, I’ll be right here where ye left me, waiting for ye.”
“Ye cannae do such a thing,” he protested. “I cannae ask it of ye.”
“Ye havenae asked,” she said stubbornly. “I’ve decided. Ye cannae talk me out of it, nae matter what.”
