“Conor?”
Stunned by this news as Orla bobbed her head, Annalise struggled to rise, only to fall back upon the pillow, her deep sleep still dulling her senses.
A comfortable mattress…and a plump pillow—God help her, she had slept for hours in Conor’s bed! At once she sat up, startling Orla, who gave a small cry as she backed up a few steps.
“What plagues you, Annalise? A nightmare you cannot shake?”
She didn’t reply, but jumped out of the bed as if scalded and stood there shakily as her head continued to throb. Mayhap after not eating much for so long and then stuffing herself? She remembered now asking Orla for another bowl of venison stew and a second slice of buttered bread, and more of that delicious cider…
“Oh!” Lifting the skirt of her gown, Annalise hastened to the bucket in the corner so she could relieve herself while Orla adjusted a wooden screen to grant her some privacy.
Annalise was nearly finished when a loud knock came at the door, her startled outcry echoing Orla’s gasp—the serving woman going so far as to utter a low curse for them to be interrupted at such a moment.
“Surely she is not still sleeping,” came an impatient masculine voice as Annalise adjusted her gown, her face flushing with warmth to hear Conor just outside the bedchamber.
She stepped around the screen, her hand to her throat as Orla glanced at her before cracking open the door, Conor peering inside the room.
“Ah, she is awake—finally.”
Annalise scurried to the opposite side of the bed to seek some refuge as Orla pulled the door wider to admit Conor.
Annalise’s cheeks red-hot now as she recalled the last time she had seen him.
His gaze fixed upon her nakedness while she had tried to cover herself…not so successfully.
He stared at her now, too, though his eyes remained fixed upon her face. His expression lacking the sternness she had come to expect, though she really couldn’t read at all what he might be thinking.
Had his mother spoken to him about his harsh treatment of her? Conor did seem more relaxed, though his broad shoulders still bore some stiffness.
His jaw looked somewhat tight, too, so mayhap he blamed her for Triona’s censure? Annalise stared back at him warily until Orla cleared her throat as if to encourage one of them to speak, Conor moving a step closer to the bed.
“I was relieved to hear you’ve eaten some food and drank…and I see you’re wearing one of my sister’s gowns. The blue color suits you.”
Annalise blinked in surprise, Conor’s solicitous tone not at all what she had expected, which made her feel even more wary.
“Y-yes, but only because your mother was very determined that I oblige her, though I was hungry…”
Annalise didn’t say anything more as Conor actually smiled at her assessment of Triona, a low laugh erupting from him as he nodded.
“Aye, she can be very persuasive. It’s best not to try and cross her…which is why I’m here to offer an apology. It was wrong of me to allow you to go for so long without the comforts owing to a guest?—”
“I’m not a guest,” Annalise interrupted him, lifting her chin in spite of how his unexpected smile had warmed her much more than any utterance of regret. “I’m a prisoner here no matter the kindness of your mother, who told me the same thing. If I were truly a guest, you would allow me to leave this place at once.”
“What? Are you so eager to submit to a marriage where you’re no more than chattel? My mother shared with me that your husband-to-be paid off your father’s debts in exchange for your hand in marriage…and you told me yourself that you had no choice. Yet you’re ready to rush into that bastard’s arms?—”
“Is that any worse than being among those who hate my kind? You may treat me well—yes, feed and clothe me, but such civility doesn’t make me any less your enemy that you could slay upon a whim!”
Her face burning, her heart pounding, Annalise spun around so she wouldn’t have to look at Conor any longer, even as she heard him sigh heavily.
She heard Orla’s footsteps rush forward, too, but the serving woman didn’t come around the bed to her. Instead, Annalise glanced over her shoulder to see Orla pull upon the sleeve of Conor’s tunic as if to encourage him to say something, though his jaw once again had grown tight and his eyes darkened.
“I came here not to spar with you, but to offer you a walk outside with me. The fresh air will do you good…and mayhap ease your fears that we intend to hurt you. The O’Byrnes do not slaughter women or children, though I cannot say the same for your accursed people—ah, God, enough! Either come with me now or remain in this bedchamber, I care not.”
Annalise heard the scraping of his boots as Conor turned and headed for the door…along with Orla’s half whisper that he give Annalise a chance to accept his invitation as his mother had encouraged him—which made him stop abruptly and mutter a curse.
Truly, she had never heard more swearing than among these wild O’Byrnes! She didn’t want to accompany Conor at all, her first impulse to remain with her back turned to him until he left her in peace.
Yet the prospect of some fresh air and a chance to stretch her legs was tempting indeed…and would give her a chance to survey her surroundings for any avenue of escape.
