He is using you, her mind warned. And that could indeed be true. But at this moment, she hardly cared. This handsome warrior was watching her with the eyes of a man who was interested in her. And her wayward heart wanted so badly to believe it.
‘I suppose I should confront the man who sired me,’ he said at last. His thumb edged a circle over the base of her spine, and the gesture melted away her reservations. Killian added, ‘If he allows it, I will ask for mercy on your father’s behalf. If not, then I will attempt to free Devlin in secret.’
‘If you succeed, I will find a way to get you the land you want,’ she promised. ‘I will do anything necessary.’
His hands moved to her shoulders, then down her arms. The warmth of his palms sent a rush of longing through her. ‘Anything, a mhuírnín?’
Though she knew he was only teasing, the words were a secret caress upon her. Her breath caught as he leaned down, resting his nose against hers.
‘There is a way for both of us to get what we want,’ he said quietly. His voice was deep, and she leaned back to look into his grey eyes. ‘If you are willing.’
A sense of warning heightened inside her. ‘What is it?’
‘You could wed me.’
She blinked a moment, trying to grasp what he was saying. Wed him? For what purpose? At her startled silence, he continued, ‘If I am your husband, no one can deny me a place at your side—not even the new king. You would have your freedom and my protection.’
The brittle disappointment fractured inside her, for her instincts had been correct. He did want to use her for his own gain. It wasn’t about wanting her or protecting her from her enemies—it was about a slave wanting to become a king. She should have known that his interest in her wasn’t real.
He drew her against him, his arms around her waist while she faced the darkened landscape. ‘Let me go,’ she said suddenly. She couldn’t think clearly within his embrace. ‘I know what you want, Killian. But your price is too great.’
Her feelings tightened inside her, but she forced herself to speak the truth. ‘I want to save my father’s life...but not at the cost of my kingdom.’
* * *
Killian wasn’t surprised at her refusal. And yet, he’d meant his offer in good faith, as one where she could have her freedom to do as she chose, and he would have the lands he lacked.
‘Would a marriage to me be such a sacrifice?’ he asked quietly, drawing nearer. She tried to move away, but he backed her against the stone wall. ‘You did not push me away when I kissed you.’
‘It was my first kiss,’ she admitted. ‘I wanted to know what it would be like.’
He moved in, but she turned her face aside, revealing the puckered skin of her cheek. She’d done it on purpose, to show him that side of her.
‘You kissed me back.’ He wanted her to realise that a marriage between them did not have to be merely an arrangement. She intrigued him, and he wanted to know her better.
‘I did. But that doesn’t mean it will happen again.’ She pressed her hands upon his chest, trying to hold him at a distance. ‘Once was enough.’
He studied her, searching those blue eyes to see the truth. She averted her gaze, but he sensed that she had lost herself in the kiss, just as he had. This woman was a tangle of contradictions—brave and frightened...scarred and beautiful...vulnerable and strong-willed.
‘I don’t think it was,’ he argued. He held her hands, warming them in his palms. Though she could have pulled away from him, she didn’t. And he knew that she was as interested in him as he was in her. ‘Kiss me again, Taryn. Remember what it was like between us.’
The wind and ice battered both of them, tearing at her long black hair. ‘I don’t want to.’
He tilted her chin up to face him. ‘You don’t want to admit that you are drawn to a man like me. One so low-born, like the dirt beneath your feet.’
‘I have never treated you like that,’ she protested. ‘And I know well enough that you are only drawn to my kingdom, not me.’ Her blue eyes burned into his, flashing fire.
He touched the scarred cheek, feeling the rough skin beneath his fingertips. She flinched the moment he touched her. ‘I was born into a life that I didn’t want. Is it so wrong to want more?’ He slid his palm down the reddened skin, then turned her to face him.
She tried again to push him away. ‘You know nothing of my people or our ways, Killian.’
‘Then teach me.’ He murmured the words against her lips, tasting the doubt. ‘And in return, there are many things I will teach you.’
She turned her face away once more. ‘I want nothing from you, Killian MacDubh.’ Though her words were quiet, he didn’t believe that she was entirely immune to him. To prove his point, he ignored her words and trapped her against the stone, seizing her mouth. He didn’t care that he was being cruel. Right now he was too interested in the soft sweetness before him, of the way she had opened to him, her breath catching in her throat.
Shocked by his gesture, she yielded beneath his kiss, letting him take what he wanted. Her gasp caught in her throat, transforming into a moan when he invaded her mouth. He kissed her hard, shaping her mouth to his, tempting her.
Whether she knew it or not, there was an undeniable attraction between them. He threaded his hands in her hair, tipping her head back. Her hand came up to his chest, and the longer he kissed her, the more he wanted this woman. Like Carice, she had never once treated him as a slave. And he wanted to give back to her a taste of what she’d given him.
If he wedded Taryn, it would not be a cold arrangement. Aye, he’d been ruthless in his proposition. But if he got what he wanted from her, he would give her an equal place at his side. She’d said she wanted a husband and children. A woman like her deserved many children, and he could easily see her holding a young child’s hand, with another babe cradled at her breast.
He framed her face, his fingers resting against her throat. Her pulse thrummed rapidly, and at last, she shoved him back. Her lips were swollen, her eyes dazed as if she couldn’t quite calm her beating heart. ‘Listen to me, Killian.’ Her eyes flared with anger, and she said, ‘I am not a woman who will surrender her kingdom, simply because you kissed me.’ She squared her shoulders, looking ruffled and upset.
‘I never asked for your kingdom.’ He knew better than to demand something like that. ‘I offered you the chance to determine your own fate, before Rory demands that you wed a man of his choosing.’
Her face turned vulnerable as if she hadn’t thought of that. ‘There are times when I feel as if I have less freedom than you do.’
He leaned in and stole another kiss. ‘Think upon it, a chara. And if you’re wanting that freedom, the way lies before you. Wed me in secret, and no one can command you.’
‘No one, except you,’ Taryn corrected. She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. And perhaps he had, to think up such an arrangement. ‘You might be very good at kissing, but you have a great deal to learn about women, Killian MacDubh.’
Chapter Seven
Some time in the middle of the night, it had begun snowing. By the next morning, the ground was coated in a sheet of white, and there was no sign of it ending. Worse, Carice still had not arrived.
Taryn had no desire to see Killian after their last conversation. Instead, she walked towards the Queen’s solar, intending to spend the morning with the other ladies. She wore the same emerald silk gown and had left her hair loose around her shoulders. When she opened the door, she found the solar empty, and she went to stand by the fire. The cat, Harold, was curled up nearby. He yawned and stretched, arching his back.
She didn’t move, but the animal padded over to her, seeking affection. Though she was uncertain, she bent down and scratched the cat’s ears as Killian had done. The animal purred, rubbing his head against her. She let out a slo
w breath, marvelling that the creature seemed to be enjoying her touch. Then he flopped down before the hearth once more.
There was a moment of peace, and Taryn warmed herself, still troubled by her conversation with Killian. His demands were unreasonable, far too ambitious for the man he was. Never had he seemed to be a man governed by greed. Why, then, had he asked her to surrender everything, including herself?
The door to the solar opened, and Taryn turned. The moment she did, the young maid screamed, turning her head away. A flush of embarrassment came over her, and the maid muttered an apology.
‘I am sorry, my lady. I did not know anyone was here.’ But Taryn didn’t miss the way the young woman crossed herself, as if to ward off a demon.
Queen Isabel entered the solar and saw the young maid’s gesture. Her face darkened, and she ordered the girl to spend the morning helping in the kitchen. When the maid was gone, Isabel apologised again, ‘I am sorry. Renna is a silly girl, and her behaviour was thoughtless.’
‘I am used to it,’ Taryn said, pulling her hair forward. But it had stung, realising that nothing had changed. She had let her guard down, only to be reminded of who she was—an ugly woman whose face frightened others. ‘There was a great deal of snow last night,’ she said, by way of changing the subject.
‘A snowstorm will not stop Trahern from bringing Lady Carice here,’ Isabel reassured her, misreading her frustration.
Taryn went to stand beside the Queen. ‘I believe he will, aye.’
‘That isn’t why you’re upset, is it?’
She shrugged. ‘I have only until Imbolc to save my father, and I have no idea what I can do. Killian offered to help me, but now—’ She began pacing across the floor. ‘Now he doesn’t want silver in return.’
‘What does he want?’
‘He wants me to wed him in secret.’ Taryn picked up a wooden cup of mead, wishing she could hurl it into the fire.
‘That is rather bold,’ Isabel mused. ‘Why would he dare to ask for such a thing? Especially when you could wed one of my husband’s handsome brothers instead.’ There was teasing in her voice, but Taryn suspected that the Queen was indeed trying to find a match for the young men.
‘He said Rory will appoint a new king who might force me to wed. Killian offered his protection, in return for part of Ossoria. I do not even think it’s possible or even legal.’ She drained the mead, feeling foolish for it.
‘Well, I think you should get to know my husband’s brothers. Connor is visiting, and Trahern should return tonight with Lady Carice. We can hold feasting and dancing to entertain everyone. My husband’s brothers are quite charming.’
‘Ewan is, indeed,’ she agreed. But despite Isabel’s claims that Trahern and Connor would not care about her scars, she had no desire to be the centre of attention—especially after the maid’s reaction.
The Queen’s smile was bright, though in her eyes, there was a shadow of exhaustion. ‘I am certain they will be glad to help you when you speak with the High King. You can meet with them, and ask.’
‘I don’t know if the MacEgan men would be interested,’ she admitted, standing by the fire to warm herself. ‘And while I appreciate your offer, I would not want everyone to be staring at me. I wouldn’t want to embarrass the men in that way.’
‘Believe me when I say they would not care,’ Isabel insisted. ‘But if it makes you uncomfortable, we could hide your scars. If you wore a veil or arranged your hair differently, we could keep most of them covered.’
‘It’s a deception,’ she argued. ‘It would be wrong to make them think that I am the same as other women.’
Isabel frowned and crossed the room to stand before her. ‘Are you so very different, on the inside? Will you let your fear and embarrassment reign over your confidence?’
In other words, she was behaving like a coward. Taryn met the Queen’s gaze. ‘Many of my scars are not on my face.’ They were deep inside her, for she was too accustomed to seeing the horror on strangers’ expressions.
Isabel reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘It does not make you less of a woman. But if you would rather remain here instead of joining in our celebration, it is your choice.’
‘I don’t want to hide myself away,’ she said. ‘But neither do I wish to be stared at.’ Isabel said nothing, but merely waited for her to make a decision. With a reluctant sigh, Taryn said, ‘Help me to hide the scars, and I will meet them.’ Though she doubted if any arrangement would be made, she supposed there was no harm in it.
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 a veil. 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 Brian’s travelling party. He 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. Killian 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 realised that he wanted to help her. He knew how fearful she was of horses, and 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 recognise the dangers that lay ahead.
He drained his mug and continued towards 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 towards 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 recognised 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.
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