Isabel brightened. “Good. I will give you one of my gowns to wear, and we will arrange your hair.” She sent Taryn a sly smile. “None of the men will be able to take his eyes from you. Don’t trouble yourself about your father—you need not marry a common soldier to save Devlin or your kingdom.”
But there was nothing common about Killian. He was a natural leader, a determined man who intended to claim the birthright he’d never had. His kiss had stirred her senses, making her feel desire for the first time. If he had...cared for her, even a little, she might have considered his suggestion.
And yet, she knew he was using her to get the land he wanted.
Queen Isabel summoned her ladies and spoke to them quietly beforehand. Taryn suspected she was warning them not to speak a word about her scars.
“Come and sit down while we arrange your hair, my lady,” one of the women said to her, smiling. But Taryn didn’t miss the sympathy in her eyes.
She obeyed, surrendering to their ministrations, while she let her mind drift. They combed her hair and arranged it with aveil. But instead of feeling excitement at a MacEgan gathering, anxiety formed within her stomach.
“I want you to enjoy yourself tonight, Taryn,” the Queen insisted. “No one will dare to insult one of my guests.”
She knew the Queen was attempting to play matchmaker, but it was difficult to imagine that Isabel could keep others from talking about her. “I will try.”
Killian’s anxiety heightened over the next few hours as the snow continued to fall and Carice still had not arrived. All around him, the MacEgan tribe members were enjoying a celebration, though it was not yet Imbolc. The children had spent hours braiding straw into St. Brighid’s crosses. Others worked on a larger doll in Brighid’s form that would be paraded from house to house during the feast of Imbolc. Later, the MacEgans would leave items of clothing outside their homes for the saint to bless, while others would leave food and drink for her spirit. The Faoilin tribe had done the same, all the years of Killian’s life, though he’d had to create his own cross out of stable straw and twigs.
It should have been an atmosphere of celebration and anticipation—but he could not help but worry over his sister.
Where was Carice? If she didn’t arrive by nightfall, he would have to abandon Taryn here and try to find Brodie’s traveling party.
Killian continued pacing, gulping down a cup of mead while he waited for Trahern to arrive. Outside, the snow continued to fall, and some of the children brought snowballs into the Great Chamber, hurling them with enthusiasm before the adults ushered them outside.
There was no sign of Taryn or the Queen, as of yet. He went to stand inside, and a serving maid refilled his cup. In the corner, he saw crowds gathered around a wise woman, who was divining the fortunes of others. She sat before a silver basin, staring into the reflection of the still water. Young women were lined up behind her, hoping she would tell them whom they would marry.
The men, in contrast, stood far away from the women, not wanting to be involved. He could understand that sentiment. For although he had made the marriage offer to Taryn, a part of him had known that she would never agree to it. She did not need him to save her father, for she could easily hire any man to do her bidding. Many men would risk their lives for any amount of silver. She owed him nothing.
But he realized that he wanted to help her. Other men wouldn't understand how travel was difficult for Taryn because of her fear of horses. He wanted to ensure that she reached Tara safely, and once she was there, he didn’t want to leave her side. She didn’t seem to recognize the dangers that lay ahead.
He drained his mug and continued toward the back of the Great Chamber, weaving in and out of the crowd. It was then that he glimpsed Taryn descending the stairs.
The Queen had given her a gown of cream, trimmed with silver threads. When she moved with the firelight behind her, the gown gleamed like sunlight upon the river. Her hair was pinned up in an elaborate formation, and golden balls were hung all around it. Two of the balls hung against each cheek, with her dark locks of hair shielding the scars.
From a distance, no one would know of her disfigurement. But in spite of it, Taryn appeared uneasy about being the subject of so many stares. She was twisting her hands together, as if she was nervous. She need not be afraid, for she was easily one of the most beautiful women here.
Killian moved in closer, still keeping his back to the wall. Although he was permitted to move about the Great Chamber among the guests, he knew it would not be fitting for him to approach her. When she caught him watching her, she straightened, lifting her chin coolly.
Ewan came to stand beside him and nodded toward Taryn. “Do you suppose I could ever find a woman like her to wed?”
“Your family will arrange it.” Killian accepted another cup of mead, hardly tasting it.
“Aye. When I’m older,” Ewan agreed. The young man’s gaze followed Taryn, and Killian’s mood darkened at the sight of all the men staring.
Several of the musicians began to play, and the sound of pipes and the harp filled up the space. He recognized Lady Genevieve, Bevan MacEgan’s wife, at the harp. Taryn chose a seat to listen, and in time, Killian saw a dark-blond-haired man approach and sit beside her. He was speaking in a low voice, leaning close.
It was Connor MacEgan. The man was slightly younger than himself, but he’d always had a smile for the ladies. He took Taryn’s hand and held it while the music continued.
There was a low buzz in Killian’s ears, his blood heating as he watched them. Would she let Connor take her into a darkened corner, telling him of her worries and fears? Would he soothe her, stealing a kiss?
Killian’s knuckles tightened over the cup. He knew what she was doing—looking for someone else to fight her battles. And from the looks of it, Connor was more than willing. Damn them both for it.
He took a step forward, only to have Ewan block his path. “You look as if you’re about to murder my brother. Do you have a claim upon the Lady Taryn?”
Killian steadied himself. No, he didn’t. And no matter that he’d tasted her lips, feeling the pleasant touch of her body against his, this was her choice.
He shook his head at Ewan but began walking toward the benches, not caring that others were beginning to stare at him. He was well aware that he was interrupting the musicians, but before he could wrench her away from Connor, a hand seized his shoulder.
Reacting on instinct, he swung his fist and found himself staring at King Patrick. He caught himself before throwing the punch and dropped his hand to his side. “You startled me, Your Grace.” He raised a knee in deference and lowered his head.
