Killian continued towards the stables, and she hurried to keep up with him. Her footing slipped a time or two, but eventually she reached the outer door.
For a moment, Taryn rested her hand upon the outbuilding, taking the time to push back the unreasonable fears. The horses would be enclosed within the stalls, she told herself. If she kept her distance, no harm would come to her. Though it was foolish to be afraid of horses, a darker memory lingered on the edges of awareness.
It was your fault that Christopher died, came the voice of her conscience. She closed her eyes, wanting so badly to push back the grief. But against her will, she saw her brother’s lifeless body in her vision, her heart still hurting for the loss.
She’d been a young girl, only four years old. Christopher was twelve and was home from his fostering, visiting for Yuletide. She’d idolised him and had followed him around everywhere, wanting so badly to be near him. Her brother had an easy smile and he’d never seemed to mind her attention. Sometimes he would swing her up on his shoulders, letting her feel as tall as a grown woman.
Sweet Jesu, she had loved him.
But one morning, she had run through the courtyard, eager to bid him farewell before he went off hunting with their father. She hadn’t paid any heed to where she was going, and Christopher’s horse had reared up without warning, throwing him off. Her brother’s head had struck a stone, and he had never awakened again.
The bitter guilt had remained with her all these years, for it had been her fault.
Taryn took a tentative step inside the stable and was relieved to see that all of the animals remained still and quiet with only an occasional nicker. Killian stood on the far end, resting both palms against a stall. Tension lined his shoulders, and she suddenly questioned her decision to follow him.
‘You were supposed to stay with Carice,’ he told her.
In his voice, she sensed the caged frustration. But even so, she wanted to understand what had happened in the Great Chamber. ‘Why did the chieftain refuse to let you speak?’
He didn’t turn around, and his knuckles tightened against the wood. ‘Brian wishes that I had never been born. He’s hated me since I took my first breath.’
‘Why? What threat could you possibly pose to him?’
He faced her, and in his grey eyes, she saw a man of ice. There was no pain, no emotion at all. Only a frozen mask of indifference.
‘I’m a bastard, Lady Taryn. I was not born a member of the tribe, and I’m not worth even the dirt beneath his feet. Why would he speak to me?’ Killian studied her with a mocking smile. ‘Brian wants naught to do with me. He wanted me hidden from everyone, like a secret meant to be forgotten.’ He spread out his hands, gesturing towards the stable. ‘Look around you, Lady Taryn. This is my home. I sleep here, among the horses and dogs.’
She didn’t like that at all. A man’s worth had nothing to do with his birthright.
‘You are not to blame for your mother’s choices.’
‘A choice?’ He looked incredulous at her words. ‘My mother had no choice at all. She was with child when she fled the High King. Brian took her in, but we were both treated as fuidir.’ He shrugged as if it meant nothing. Still, it bothered Taryn to see a man so mistreated, merely from circumstances of birth.
‘Why did she leave the High King?’
He sent her a disbelieving glance. ‘It’s more likely that she never wanted to be with a man like him. She wouldn’t speak of Rory, though everyone knows I am his son.’
‘Does he know about you? That is, did you ever go to see him?’ Though it was quite a distance to Tara, she couldn’t imagine that he’d remained here.
‘No. Brian told him about me, but Rory cared nothing about my existence. I had no desire to meet him, based on my mother’s experience.’
She suspected there was more that he hadn’t revealed. In his eyes, she saw the hard resentment of a man who hated his life. Most of the fuidir she’d encountered were not as proud as this man. But Killian seemed unwilling to accept a fate such as this, and she could not blame him.
‘If this is not the life you want, you could leave,’ she suggested.
He said nothing, and she realised that she did have something to offer this man. A home where he would not be treated as a slave. ‘If you free my father, you could come and live among our people at Ossoria. You would have a place with us.’
The doubt upon his face made it clear that he did not believe her. ‘I intend to see my sister to safety. That is the only reason I am escorting you to Tara—to help her escape. After that, I will go my own way.’
She wasn’t ready to give up so soon. Not when there was a chance he could save her father’s life.
Yet, there was so much bitterness locked away in Killian, it was festering deep inside. Despite the High King’s reputation, there was a blood bond between them, of father and son. There might be a way for him to gain Rory’s favour.
‘And after Carice is safe? What then?’ she pressed. ‘Will you return here and live among men who treat you like the dirt they walk upon?’
Rage flashed in his eyes and she knew she had struck upon his weakness—pride. This was a man who had the demeanour of a king, though he was trapped in the life of a slave.
‘My decisions are my own.’ He took a step towards her, letting his height intimidate her. But she refused to back down—not when she believed he had the power to save her father. This man had single-handedly fought back against the chieftain’s strongest men, proving that he could overcome the odds. When she looked upon his face, she saw a man of determination, a man of courage.
He reached down and caught her wrist. ‘Don’t think I’m unaware of what you’re doing, a chara. You want me to speak on your father’s behalf to King Rory and ask my father to free Devlin.’ He sent her a sidelong look. ‘As if a bastard son has any influence at all.’ She tried to pull her hand back, but he gripped it tight. ‘I’ll not be risking my life for his.’
He wouldn’t want that, no. But there was something else that might sway him.
Taryn reached beneath her skirt to a pouch she’d tied beneath it. From the pouch, she withdrew a silver coin. She held it up and said, ‘If you do go your own path, you will need to build your own wealth. You could start with this.’
She pressed the silver into his palm, but he caught her hand and held it. The small piece of metal warmed beneath their joined hands, but there was more than a simple touch. ‘This is what my word is worth,’ she continued. ‘If you rescue my father, I can give you a chest of silver so heavy, you cannot lift it. You could buy anything you want.’
Killian’s steel eyes smouldered with fury, and he looked as if her offer had wounded his pride. Taryn’s skin tightened, her body flushing at his intense stare. She tried to look away, but every part of her was strangely attuned to him. Her body had grown sensitive, and the coldness of his face caught her breath.
Like a fallen angel, his features were darkly handsome. Though he didn’t bruise her skin with his grip, he was letting her know who was in command. And it wasn’t her.
‘I’ve never met anyone of noble blood whose word could be trusted.’ He pressed the coin back into her hand, as if to say he wanted nothing she could give.
His words infuriated her. She had done nothing to warrant such distrust, and it was insulting. ‘You don’t even know me, Killian MacDubh. I am a woman who keeps her promises.’
‘Are you?’ he asked softly. ‘The first words you spoke were lies and deceptions. Why should I believe you?’
Her face flushed at the memory of how she’d told the soldiers she was Carice. From the shielded expression on his face, she realised that Killian was a man who trusted no one, save himself. No matter what vows she made, he would not believe them.
‘Then perhaps I won’t help your sister after all,’ she counte
red. ‘I’ll confess to the soldiers who I really am, and your father can take her to Tara to be wedded to the High King. I’ll find other soldiers to save my father.’
She started to move away, but he caught her waist, trapping her against the wooden horse stall. ‘Don’t.’
His hard body was pressed against hers, and she was completely at his mercy. Though he was likely meaning to intimidate her, instead, it felt like an embrace. Her body softened against his hardness, and she found herself spellbound by his iron eyes. The fierceness of his expression was of a warrior bent upon gaining her surrender. He kept her wrists pinned with his hands against the wall. But instead of feeling trapped, her traitorous mind imagined what it would be like to be claimed by this man.
She suspected that Killian would only take what he wanted, never giving anything of himself. And though it should have frightened her, she wondered if there was any warmth at all behind his heart of ice.
‘You will do nothing to harm Carice. Not ever.’ Though his words were spoken softly, the threat was not lost upon her. ‘Not in word or in deed.’
Taryn stared back at him, facing him without fear. ‘I will do whatever I must to free my father. We can be allies and help one another...or we can be enemies. The choice is yours.’
Chapter Three
Killian awakened in a pile of straw with three dogs sleeping near him and Harold’s furry face nudging his. It was so cold, he could see a layer of ice upon the water trough. He stretched, feeling stiff and sore from the sleepless night, while the cat rubbed against his side.
Taryn’s threat, to reveal everything to the High King’s men, had infuriated him. For whether or not he wanted to admit it, he did need her assistance. One of the MacEgans might help Carice to escape, but without Taryn to disguise herself and buy a few more hours of time, the soldiers would pursue his sister.
What the Lady wanted in return was far too great a price. He had no desire to get entangled with her father’s fate, nor did he want to lay eyes upon Rory Ó Connor. He remembered all too well what had happened when Brian had returned from Connacht, fifteen years ago.
The chieftain had stared at him with loathing. ‘Come here, boy.’
Killian had obeyed, keeping his back straight. He’d hardly slept last night, dreaming that he would be sent to live at Connacht with the King. He imagined a life where he had a pallet to sleep upon instead of a pile of straw in the stables. Would he finally go to live with his true father? Would Rory be proud of him? He was six years old, and he was growing stronger each day. He might be one of the finest warriors in Éireann one day, if he worked hard.
‘He doesn’t want you,’ Brian said. ‘He has sired over a dozen bastards, and he doesn’t want another.’ The chieftain spat at his feet. ‘That’s all you’re worth to him.’
A coldness seized up in his chest, the hope shattering. He’d wanted so badly to live with someone who wanted him, now that his mother was dead. He twisted the silver ring on his thumb, so afraid of what would happen now.
‘Did...did you see him?’ Mayhap there had been a mistake.
‘No,’ Brian answered. ‘He was organising a raid on Munster.’
‘Then it might have been a mistake.’ Killian brightened at that. If his father was waging war on Munster, he might not want a son right now. But later...
‘There was no mistake.’ Brian sent him a scathing look. ‘His men gave him the message, but Rory offered nothing at all for you. Were I not a merciful man, I’d turn you out.’ He crossed his arms and regarded Killian. ‘As it is, I will let you live in the stables and tend the horses. Unless you’d rather go out on your own?’
* * *
Killian had been too frightened to understand any of what had happened, but he’d obeyed. At least at Carrickmeath, he had food and shelter. It was better than starving to death, and he’d been too young to survive alone.
But now, he would have his freedom. Once he saw Carice to safety.
The wolfhound beside him stretched and trotted over to him, resting his head upon Killian’s knee. He rubbed the dog’s ears, still thinking about Lady Taryn. She had silver and wealth beyond his dreams—but what he truly wanted was land and kinsmen who would look upon him with respect. And that was something that could never be bought—it had to be earned.
The voice of temptation lured him closer, reminding him that Taryn could grant him everything he wanted. All he had to do was risk his life for her father.
Likely the man was already dead. The High King resented the other provincial kings, particularly those who did not revere him. Though Killian didn’t know what Devlin’s crimes were, the odds of saving him were nearly impossible.
The dilemma weighed down upon him, for in a matter of hours, everything had changed. He would protect Carice, aye. But beyond that, once she was safe? What then?
Taryn’s words dug into his pride. Will you return here and live among men who treat you like the dirt they walk upon?
That was what bothered him most. Never had he been given the chance to fight for the life he wanted. This woman held the power to change everything—all he had to do was risk his life for a stranger.
He didn’t know what to think of this turn of events. Nor did he know what to think of Taryn Connelly. She was acutely conscious of her scarred face, but she was not a woman to hide herself away from the world. She’d faced him down, fighting for the life of the father she loved. Just as he was fighting for Carice.
They were more alike than he’d wanted to admit.
When he’d lost his temper and had pressed her back against the wall, he’d never expected the sudden interest that had flared up within him. He’d meant to intimidate her, to make her understand that he would allow no one to threaten his sister. Instead, he’d been fully aware of the lines of her body and the softness that had pressed back against him.
Her eyes had widened, as if she didn’t know what to do. He’d expected her to pull back in revulsion, but instead, she’d studied him as if she could see past his anger. As if she saw the man he wanted to be instead of the man he was. Never had any woman looked at him in that way. Most wanted a hasty tumble in the dark, but nothing more than that.
The wolfhound placed his paw upon Killian’s knee, offering despondent eyes. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted to the dog. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have given in to my temper.’ The wolfhound nuzzled his hand, and Killian stood. All three hounds stared up at him as if he was their lord and master.
‘King of the dogs, that’s what I am.’ He shook his head in exasperation and left the stable with a trail of animals following behind him. Even Harold joined them, for the cat seemed to believe Killian was his owner. When he drew closer to the donjon, there were a few smirks from his kinsmen, but he ignored them.
When he reached the entrance leading to the Great Chamber, he saw the Lady Taryn descending the stairs. She was dressed in a green silk gown, with jewelled rings upon her hands and a silver torque at her throat. A veil covered her hair and shielded most of her scars from view.
When she saw him, she stopped at the foot of the stairs and waited. Killian knew she expected him to approach, but he stopped where he was and watched her. Her eyes were a frosty blue as she regarded him.
One of the wolfhounds moved forward and began sniffing at her skirts. Taryn paled and moved backwards up the stairs, trying to get away.
He was convinced that her scars had been the result of an animal attack. With a whistle, he called back the wolfhounds and ordered them to go.
‘The dogs won’t harm you,’ he said, standing at the foot of the stairs.
She nodded but appeared unconvinced. ‘I wanted to speak to you before I meet with the chieftain.’ Keeping her eye on the retreating wolfhounds, she remained in place and asked, ‘What have you decided? Am I to travel with Lady Carice, or should I seek
help elsewhere?’
He ought to let her go, for this wasn’t his fight. There were other ways to help his sister escape, even if Taryn did reveal the truth to the High King’s men.
‘You are waging a battle you cannot win,’ he told her. The moment she set foot within the High King’s holdings, she risked her own safety. If she freed her father and was caught, King Rory would hold her responsible. If she didn’t, she would watch him die. And no matter whom she hired to do her bidding, she would face the consequences from the High King.
‘He is my father,’ she said quietly. ‘If your sister were imprisoned, you would do the same for her.’
Her blue eyes stared into his with finality. She did understand the risks, then. But it didn’t seem that she cared.
‘Go with my sister,’ he said at last. ‘And we will talk later about your father.’ He would make no promises beyond that.
In her expression, he saw the relief. ‘Thank you. If you have need of my guard, Pól, he is loyal to me and can be trusted.’
Her offer was a welcome one, for he needed to ensure that the MacEgans were aware of the change in plans. He had intended to travel to Laochre on his own to seek help, though he hadn’t wanted to leave Carice behind at the hands of these soldiers. Now there was an alternative.
If her guard alerted the MacEgans, Killian could keep a close watch over Carice. ‘We will send your man to Laochre this morning,’ he said. ‘I will see to it that he has a horse. But when you dine with Brian, you must convince him to let me accompany you,’ he said. The chieftain didn’t want him anywhere near Carice, and it would be difficult to gain his permission. ‘And you cannot let the King’s men know who you are.’
‘Leave that to me,’ she agreed. ‘Give Pól your message, and I will handle Brian Faoilin and the others.’ There was such confidence in her voice, he could almost believe her.
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