“What name has the lass given ye? Aibreann?” he asked. The horse didn’t answer, of course, but Ivor fancied that she liked it. “Aibreann it is, then. Tell me, Aibreann, did I really pull that lovely woman into me arms last night?”
He had; he knew for sure – he couldn’t have dreamed such a thing. The way she felt against his body, the way her warmth had shone all night. He’d slept beside a number of women, most much cleaner and less chilled, but he’d never slept so well as he had last night.
Ivor groaned, wiping his face with his hand. This was no use. He had to find the river and wash his face, or he’d never wake up. He finished feeding the horse and then promised her he’d be back soon, then gathered some of the nuts and berries from his personal stock for breakfast before setting off.
It didn’t take long to find the river, but he froze behind a tree when he saw that Eithne was still bathing.
God above and demons below.
He’d been able to tell she was beautiful from the start, but the woman naked and clean in the dawn light was a vision beyond what he’d ever seen. Her hair was so dark it reflected the light of the sun, and her skin was smooth.
She’s like a selkie maiden who just shed her seal skin. Nae wonder the fisherman is tempted.
Her body curved gently and smoothly like the waves of water, swelling in the chest and flat in the center. Her breasts' tips were hard and pointed thanks to the cold, but she wore a pretty smile on pink lips that were sorely in need of kissing.
He couldn’t see any lower than her waist, hidden as it was beneath the water, and only then did he realize that he was staring. He needed to look away and give her back her privacy, and yet he felt spellbound. He couldn’t look away from her any more than he could stop breathing – it was a natural impulse, a need beyond any base desire.
Ivor wanted – needed – to touch her, to worship her, and yet he would not. He wouldn’t get closer. He wouldn’t do anything. This woman, ethereal beauty or not, had been through insurmountable loss and hurt. His desire threatened to overwhelm him, yet he would control it. He wouldn’t tell her he’d seen anything here today.
It caused a physical pain of protest in his groin, but he turned away and sat, waiting with his back turned for her to finish bathing.
After what could have been hours or minutes, he heard her exit the water. He waited a few moments before turning back to look. By the time he did, she had dressed in his spare shirt, which fell to her knees and tied a rope around her waist as a belt.
Clever girl.
She sat by the side of the river now, her legs drawn to her chest as she stared into the water. Ivor gave her a few further minutes of reflection before deciding to join her.
Faking a yawn so that she thought he had been sleeping all of this time, he walked out of the woods and toward her. He made a show of washing his face and beard in the water before taking a seat next to her. She didn’t say anything, but she did shuffle over to give him space next to her.
The morning birds were singing, and Eithne’s eyes were vacant. Eventually, when the sun had risen even higher, Ivor said, “It’s alright if ye want to cry, ye ken. Naebody will think any less of ye.”
She turned to him at last, her crystal blue eyes wide with astonishment. It was as though that was precisely what she needed to hear. She started to sob, resting her head against his chest as he held her, none of the awkwardness or tension of the previous night present at all.
“It’s me own fault,” she sobbed once she caught her breath. “I dinnae ken why ye’re helping me. Yer friend – me brother – he’s dead because of me.”
He stroked her drying hair, marveling at the softness of it now that it was clean. “How can ye possibly believe that? Killian adored ye and Myrna with all his heart and soul.”
Eithne pulled back and shook her head. “He told me to leave,” she said. “I was supposed to go with Myrna, me and me mither both, but we refused. We kent Rory was coming, but we wouldnae leave. We wanted to help. The last thing Killian ever said to me was that if I didnae stay safe, he’d kill me.”
Ivor bit back something between a laugh and a sob, able to picture his friend saying those exact words. The brave, kind, foolish boy that he’d been. It was hard to believe that he was gone or that his sister sat here now, looking so like him and yet so different.
“We got separated. Our friend Neal…he wanted to help us and defend us both, but he got hurt. Me faither and Killian were murdered out of me sight. Rory said that me poor da had to watch as Killian drowned in his own blood.”
“Ye dinnae need to—” Ivor started softly.
“Nay,” she said firmly. “I do need to.”
He nodded.
Eithne swallowed. “Me mither, she was stabbed in the side by a wounded soldier she was trying to help. She couldnae bear to see anyone injured, no matter what side they were on. She collapsed, and I held her, but it was too…too late…” She shook her head. “And then Neal…Neal…”
Ivor gave her a few minutes, allowing her to break down again. When she was breathing normally, he said, “But how is it yer fault? MacDuff is the one who attacked. MacDuff is the one who killed yer family.”
“I ken,” she whispered. “But he wouldnae have come at all if it wasnae for me.
“He wanted yer lands,” Ivor protested.
“Aye,” she agreed. “But nae as much as he’s wanted me for all these years. He proposed to me the first time when I was just four and ten, and I refused – of course, I refused, I was a child. Me faither told me I’d never have to marry anyone I didnae want to. I ken that makes me lucky, but sometimes…sometimes I wish I’d been less stubborn.”
