Then he gripped her hips and let out a groan, shuddering hard as he emptied himself within her. They were one flesh, joined together as only a man and a woman could be.
For a moment, she lay beneath him, savouring his touch. She would not think of the weeks ahead, when he would leave her. Nor would she let herself dwell on the reality that it was unlikely any man would touch her like this again.
For now, she would be with this man and pretend that the lies were real. That he was her husband and not her guard.
And she held no regrets at all.
Chapter Eleven
They reached the High King’s fortress by the second night. Killian led their travelling party with Taryn following behind him. He was conscious of her every move, and he could not stop watching over her. During the past two nights in their shared tent, he’d spent most of the hours in her arms, finding all the ways to pleasure her.
And yet, it still wasn’t enough. She had indulged in their night trysts, but she had grown quieter within the past day, hiding her thoughts from him. He knew not what would happen when they met with King Rory. But he would guard Taryn with his life.
‘Will we seek an audience with the High King this night?’ she asked, after she led her horse beside his. The cat was curled up in the basket upon her saddle, and he saw her quietly stroking Harold’s ears.
‘Not yet.’ He wanted to slip inside the fortress and disappear among the folk while he learned what he could about Rory. ‘Stay here and make camp,’ he told her. ‘I will go alone and find out what I can about your father’s fate.’
‘When will you come back? By midnight, do you think?’ There was a tendril of worry within her voice.
He leaned across to take her hand, kissing the knuckles. ‘If I don’t, I’ve no doubt you will come riding in after me.’
She didn’t smile, as he’d expected her to. Instead, she squeezed his hand. ‘I know I shouldn’t be afraid. I’ve done nothing wrong, and the only reason I came here was to plead for my father’s life. Yet I cannot help but feel the coldness in this place.’
‘And that is why I need to know what lies behind those walls,’ he told her. ‘You said before that the men you sent on Devlin’s behalf were killed. We need to know why.’ She nodded and pulled him close for a kiss. He tasted her fear and tried to soothe it. ‘If I have not returned by dawn, do not come after me.’
She was already shaking her head. ‘His men will know that ours are here. We cannot hide fifty men for more than a few hours.’
‘The MacEgan guards have come to join with the High King’s men. They might believe that Maeve has come for the same reason, to bring soldiers and atone for her husband’s mistakes.’
Killian could see the unrest in her eyes, the unwillingness to obey him. He rested his palm against her cheek. ‘If it’s safe, I will come back for you, Taryn. This, I promise.’
‘And if it isn’t safe? What if you don’t come back?’
‘Then you must return with your mother. Turn away from all of this.’ Her safety mattered more than all else. Though he doubted if the High King would pursue them, he didn’t want Taryn to face any danger.
‘Walk with me a moment,’ she said quietly, swinging down from the horse.
He dismounted and she led him away from the others. Her hand was cold, and when they were alone, out of view of the others, she said, ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
There was far more longing in her voice than there should have been. He knew what was happening between them, and he regretted his earlier coercion regarding her kingdom. No matter what happened, he had to keep her safe, at all costs.
‘I know how to defend myself, a stór.’
She stared at him, and then drew her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his heart. ‘I need you to stay alive, Killian. Don’t do anything dangerous.’
‘I know how to blend in with my surroundings, Taryn.’
She squeezed him tightly and then drew back, lifting her face to his. ‘Be safe.’
Her words slid into him like an invisible embrace, and he kissed her hard. This woman had somehow reached inside him, giving herself to the man he was instead of the man he wanted to be.
‘What will you do if they recognise you?’ she ventured.
‘The only soldiers who have seen me before are those searching for Carice.’ He slid back a lock of her hair. ‘If they have not returned, I will be fine. If they have told the High King about my sister’s disappearance, then we are both in danger. Brian may blame me for her disappearance, to save himself.’
She paled at that. ‘I don’t like this, Killian.’
Neither did he. There was a greater risk now, with more to lose. He was venturing into a place where he knew no one, where he would be seen as an enemy. And though he could remain unseen, if he made the wrong move, it might cost him his life.
‘I have this feeling I won’t see you again,’ Taryn whispered. ‘And it frightens me.’
He gripped her hard, kissing her temple. ‘You will see me again.’ As a teasing note, he added, ‘I need my land, don’t I?’
She didn’t smile. For they both knew that the chances of him sharing a true marriage with her were nearly impossible. More likely the High King would execute Devlin and seize control of his lands. Rory might force both Maeve and Taryn to wed men who were loyal to him. Even if Killian did wed Taryn in secret, the King could easily dissolve the marriage by having him killed.
He kissed her softly. ‘Remain with the soldiers until dawn. Do not let anyone see you.’ He needed her to remain safe while he explored the outbuildings at Tara.
‘I will.’
For a moment, he palmed her cheek, taking a moment to memorise her features. Deep blue eyes studied his with worry, and she covered his hand. Her long black hair framed a face that haunted him now. He would never forget those features or the way her expression transformed while he was moving inside her.
And though he feared he had to give her up after this, he wanted to savour these last moments.
‘Be careful,’ Taryn urged.
He gave a hard nod and disappeared into the night.
* * *
Hours passed, and still, Killian hadn’t returned. It was dawn now, and Taryn slipped outside the tent, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. All night, she had worried that he’d been caught by the High King’s men. She couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him. Aye, it had been unwise to join with him and spend the night in his arms during these past few nights. Yet she was not sorry for the choices she’d made.
It no longer mattered that she was the daughter of a king and he was the bastard son of Rory Ó Connor. He was the man she cared deeply about, and he had never once turned away from her scars. But the danger in this place had slid within her bones, making her fear that they would threaten Killian.
She crossed through the rows of tents, walking up the hillside to get a better view of Tara. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, but she hoped she could see the High King’s territory. Sheep grazed upon the long grasses, and morning dew coated her skirts. She had bound a veil over her head, trying to keep her scars out of view.
Just a glimpse—that was all she wanted. She moved closer, towards the fortress enclosed by a large wooden fence. For a moment, she studied the High King’s vast holdings, wondering whether there was any mercy within him at all. Was it even possible that he would let her father live?
She shielded her eyes against the morning sun and then a small group of men began to approach. It was soon clear that they had been watching her.
Taryn hesitated, wondering whether to retreat. If she ran, they would undoubtedly pursue her. She remained in place while she tried to decide what to do. As the men came closer, she saw a familiar face. The leader of the soldiers had been among the High
King’s men who had come to fetch Carice.
A faint smile edged his mouth the moment he recognised her.
No. Her pulse beat faster, even knowing she had done nothing wrong. But the moment he called out, Taryn spun around, hurrying towards the hill. She lost her footing and sprawled hard on the ground. Though she tried to call out to the MacEgan men, the High King’s soldiers surrounded her within seconds.
‘We’ve been looking for you, my lady,’ the captain said. Two of the men seized her arms and dragged her to her feet. ‘King Rory wants to have words with you. He wants to know where his bride is. And I think you know the answer to that.’
‘I have not seen her since you left me at the round tower,’ she countered. ‘I had nothing to do with Carice’s disappearance.’
‘Then why did you run?’ The knowing look on his face made her cheeks flush.
She tried to gather her composure. ‘You frightened me when you approached with your soldiers. I came to seek an audience with the High King, for my father’s sake.’
‘Oh, he will be wanting to see you,’ the man replied with a thin smile. ‘My orders are to bring you for questioning.’
Her heart quaked at that, even while her logical mind argued, This was what you wanted. It wasn’t as if she had a choice, either. Steeling herself, she met the captain’s gaze. ‘You need not treat me as a prisoner. I will speak with the Ard-Righ.’
But the captain ignored her. To the men holding her, he ordered, ‘If she resists, drag her upon the ground.’
The men obeyed, and Taryn had to struggle to keep up. Her skirts tangled against her legs, and more than once, she stumbled. Her pulse quickened as she searched for a sign of Killian. But he was nowhere to be seen.
Rory Ó Connor’s holdings consisted of a large fortification built of wood, known as the Rath-na-Rígh. Two walls surrounded the structure with a deep ditch between them. The men led her over the trench and inside the gates. Hearth fires were set up outside, and dozens of men and women moved throughout the space. Some were cooking food in iron pots, while others were treating animal hides stretched over heavy frames. A few boys wrestled in the open spaces, laughing as they tried to pin each other to the ground.
Taryn drew nearer and spied a smaller hillside within the walls. Duma nan Giall, it was named. She had never before seen the mound of hostages, but she had heard of it. An iron gate closed off the small house made of timber, and she wondered if her father was held within it.
As she passed through the grounds, she was struck by how vast the King’s holdings were—and there were soldiers everywhere.
The men forced her towards the banqueting hall, a tall building made of timber that was heavily carved and painted in bright colours. It stood between two parallel mounds of earth, and Taryn counted six doors on each side.
‘Bind her,’ the captain said, ‘until the High King is ready to see her.’
Taryn lowered her head, her mind spinning. She would have to plead with the King for mercy and pray that he did not hold her responsible for Carice’s disappearance. Her heart was pounding when they led her inside the main door.
Inside, she smelled roasted mutton and vegetables. Her stomach roared with hunger, for she had not broken her fast this morn. But all hunger vanished when she heard the heavy footsteps approaching. She did not dare to look up, but she knew the High King was drawing nearer. She bit her lip so hard, she tasted blood.
‘Your Grace, this is the traitor’s daughter,’ the captain said. ‘We believe she was the reason why Lady Carice disappeared.’
‘Was she?’ came a deep baritone voice. ‘Let go of her.’
The soldiers released their grip, and Taryn sank to her knees. She knew better than to attempt anything less than deference.
For a moment, the Ard-Righ stood in front of her. Taryn stared at his leather boots, her heart pounding.
‘You do resemble Carice Faoilin,’ he admitted. ‘I can understand why my men made a mistake at first. But they did not see you clearly.’ He reached out a hand and touched her chin. Taryn kept her gaze averted, knowing that this man held her life in his hands. ‘Rise.’
She got up from her knees, and the moment she stood, he tore the veil from her hair. The linen slipped to the floor, and she felt the fear gripping her once more. Rory jerked her back by the hair, forcing her to look at him. His grey eyes were the same as Killian’s, and it was like seeing an older, crueller version of the man she cared about. His dark beard covered his face, and his mouth was a thin slash.
Dear God. Her mother had been right. The moment anyone saw Killian, they would recognise him as Rory’s son.
The High King pulled back her hair and revealed her scarred face to the men. ‘Think you that I would wed a woman so cursed?’
Taryn didn’t move, nor did she dare to speak. The wrong words could end her life or her father’s.
‘I want to know where Carice Faoilin is,’ the High King said. His voice held such caged fury, she didn’t know how to answer that. ‘You will tell me this, if you value your life.’
She was not about to betray Killian’s sister—especially not to this man.
‘I d-don’t know.’ Fear gripped her roughly, and she admitted, ‘My mother’s men came for me, and I left Carice behind. I was travelling with her to the wedding, but then I had to leave her.’
But the captain was already shaking his head. ‘On the first day we saw her, this woman claimed that she was your bride, my liege. She intended to deceive us during our journey towards Tara, and Lady Carice disappeared soon after she stayed behind. It could not have been a coincidence, for we have not seen your bride since.’
She knew these men were trying to save their own necks by blaming her. Best to tread carefully. ‘I lied to them on the first night out of fear,’ Taryn said. ‘I was seeking sanctuary with the chieftain and was afraid I would not be allowed inside. It was a mistake from the first.’
‘Why did Lady Carice run away? Was she trying to break our betrothal?’ Rory demanded. His hand gripped the back of her neck, and Taryn froze. If this man intended to kill her, he would do so. She could do nothing at all to stop him.
‘Lady Carice was dying,’ she told the King. ‘She was hardly able to leave her bed.’
His gaze darkened, and for a moment he passed judgement over her. ‘But she was strong enough to flee this marriage.’
Taryn straightened, reaching for a courage she didn’t feel. ‘I do not think you would want a bride who is so ill, Your Grace. There are other women who would suit your needs better.’
‘Not you,’ he said coldly.
Though she had expected such a reaction, she could not stop the colour from rising to her cheeks. ‘No, Your Grace. Not me.’
The High King drew back his hand and said, ‘I presume you came here to plead for your father’s life.’
She gave a faint nod. ‘Yes, Your Grace. If you would but grant him mercy, surely he—’
‘I will not grant mercy to a traitor. He will die for his attempt to seize the kingship for himself.’
Taryn clenched her hands together, feeling as if all the blood had drained away from her body. Killian had been right. The High King had no intention of listening to any of her words.
But she would humble herself before him, begging for mercy. ‘He is my father, Your Grace. And whatever he has done, I would ask that you consider another punishment. Perhaps exile...or—’
‘The only mercy I would consider is granting him a swift death,’ Rory finished. His iron tone made it clear that he would not be swayed in this.
The ice rose up from Taryn’s heart, descending into her limbs. But she lowered herself to her knees, asking, ‘May I see him?’
‘Not unless you wish to join him.’ To the guards, he ordered, ‘Take her to the mound of hostages. She may be more willing to
talk in the morning, once she has spent time with the other prisoners.’
* * *
Killian let out a curse when he saw the soldiers seize Taryn and take her away. He had hidden himself among the King’s subjects, never letting any man see his face. And though he could not know how they’d taken Taryn without alerting the other soldiers, he had to get her out.
There was only one way to do so. He had to confront the High King and reveal his identity.
Although he knew his features were similar to Rory’s, it was a rare moment when Killian ever saw his reflection. He hardly cared what he looked like, and he knew not what others would say when he claimed to be Rory’s son.
But he had to act swiftly before Taryn was harmed.
Slowly, he rose from his place where he’d been washing a wooden table. He dried his hands upon the rough wool that he wore. Then he walked to the place where Taryn had been standing. He held back his shoulders, still keeping himself hooded. It took a moment for the men to notice him, and the captain approached. ‘Go back to your place, fuidir.’
Killian ignored him, striding towards the High King. ‘I would like an audience with you, Your Grace.’
The captain reached out to seize his arm, but Killian twisted it and sent the man sprawling to the floor. His strength seemed to startle the others, and he saw men reaching for their blades.
But he had their attention now.
Rory Ó Connor turned and stared at him. It was clear that the High King was lacking in patience, and the moment would soon be lost.
Killian reached up to his hood and pulled it back, revealing his face. He waited, before he spoke, to see if anyone saw the resemblance. By the gods, he hoped so. This was his best hope of keeping Taryn safe.
For a moment, the High King froze. He stared hard at Killian, and the expression on his face was not at all the rage or disinterest he’d anticipated. Instead, there was a look of stunned silence. There was no doubting that Rory recognised him as another bastard son. But instead of dismissing him, the High King moved closer. ‘Who was your mother?’
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