Chapter Two #3
Lord Lowell walked with her outside. ‘I live in the northwest of England. It can be cold in the winter, but the hills are green, and the forests have trees so tall, you have to tilt your head back to see the tops.’
His voice was calm, and from his tone, Mairead could hear that he loved his homeland. She started to relax and ventured a smile. ‘It sounds lovely.’
‘It is.’ They walked inside the inner bailey, and he added, ‘My home is about the same size as Laochre, except the sea is farther away.’
It was a subtle way of speaking about his wealth. But she found herself feeling not quite so intimidated. And she supposed Lord Lowell could be a kind man if she gave him a chance.
Inwardly, she wondered what it would be like if the earl kissed her.
Would it be gentle and inviting? Or only out of duty?
She couldn’t deny that Balor’s kiss had awakened her, pushing away the months of grief.
If he had continued kissing her, it might have become something more.
A spark of heat had risen between them, kindling her blood hotter.
Immediately, she shut the thought down. She needed to stop thinking of Balor ó Phelan when their lives were so different. Her father had given her this opportunity to get acquainted with a nobleman, someone who would offer a powerful alliance.
‘I suppose you’ve heard that King John is here in the north of Ireland,’ the earl was saying. It pulled her attention back to the present, and she wondered how much Lord Lowell knew about the attack.
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘My father and his brothers returned from the north, not long ago.’
‘King John is asking all of the Irish kings to swear their fealty,’ Lord Lowell continued. ‘I suppose your father has already done so.’
‘It’s why he traveled there, I suppose,’ Mairead hedged.
But she wondered if King John intended to usurp the role of High King.
Was that why he was here? To conquer and command Ireland?
John had been named Lord of Ireland, but in years past, it hadn’t seemed to matter since he spent most of his time in England.
Was that why her father wanted this alliance with the earl? Had something happened with King John that Patrick felt they needed another means of protecting their family? She was starting to feel an invisible pressure, as if her freedom to choose was only an illusion.
The earl turned to face her. ‘You speak my language very well, my lady. It’s a welcome surprise.’
‘My mother was Norman, and so was my aunt.’ She ventured a smile, but then behind the earl, she caught a slight movement of someone crossing past her. Though she hadn’t meant to glance at him, she immediately recognized Balor.
Despite her efforts not to react, her heartbeat quickened at the sight of him.
He wore a grey threadbare cloak, and his dark hair was gathered back in a leather thong that emphasized his jawline.
And when she saw his firm mouth, she couldn’t stop the flush to her cheeks as she remembered the way her body had reacted to his kiss.
Balor ó Phelan was entirely too handsome for his own good.
And when his mouth curved in a wicked smile, she stiffened.
He nodded in the direction of an older nobleman who stood beside a young man with reddish-brown hair—but Balor remained behind them at a distance.
Mairead guessed the younger man was likely Balor’s brother, Kenneth.
From the look of it, Kenneth was slightly younger than herself.
‘I’m boring you with conversation, aren’t I?’ Lord Lowell said. His eyes gleamed, and he glanced behind him at the young lad. ‘I see that I will have to do more to gain your affections.’ He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.
She was entirely too aware of Balor watching them, and embarrassment flushed her face. It was as if he knew how uncomfortable she felt, being the center of attention.
Mairead forced her attention back to Lord Lowell. ‘No, you aren’t boring me, my lord.’ Her mind searched for an appropriate excuse. ‘But I do have other suitors waiting to be introduced. Perhaps we could speak again later?’
‘I hope so.’ The earl bowed and stepped back.
No sooner had he left, than the older nobleman pushed his son towards her. He gave a slight bow and said, ‘Lady Mairead, I am Fergus ó Phelan, chieftain of our tribe. This is my son and heir, Kenneth.’
The young man gaped at her, his cheeks flushing. But he took a few awkward steps forward and bowed. ‘It is an honour to meet you, Lady Mairead.’
She inclined her head politely. ‘It is my honour as well.’ When she glanced around, there was no sign of Balor. Though she didn’t want to disclose that she’d met him previously, she asked, ‘Am I wrong, or don’t you have an older brother? Did he travel with you?’
Kenneth started to nod, just as Fergus cut him off. ‘No. Kenneth is my only son.’
The chieftain’s declaration startled her. Was the man not Balor’s father? She hadn’t considered that Kenneth was a half brother. Or had Fergus disowned his older son? Had Balor earned such a reputation that his own family would refuse to acknowledge him?
Their family troubles shouldn’t bother her—especially since the bards had sung their tales of Balor as a fierce, bloodthirsty warrior. And yet…she didn’t quite believe he deserved it. He’d saved her life, after all.
It was probably a good thing that no one here knew who he was, except the family who pretended he didn’t exist.
With an apologetic smile, Fergus added, ‘Kenneth is young, but he has spoken of nothing but meeting you. And I feel it would be a good match to join our lands together.’
Mairead kept her expression neutral. ‘I will consider all of my suitors before making a decision.’
‘Of course,’ Fergus said. But she didn’t miss the gleam of ambition in his eyes.
As she departed to return to the Great Chamber, she saw a shadowed figure in the threadbare cloak, just inside the doors. She turned, expecting to see Balor. But there was no one there.
There was no reason to be disappointed, Mairead told herself. She didn’t truly need to see him again.
But it made her wonder why he had come. Unless…he had wanted to see her again. A flutter of nerves caught her stomach, just as she stomped it down with common sense.
No. She had extended the invitation to Kenneth, just as she’d promised. There was no logical reason for Balor to travel here, especially when his own family had denied knowing him.
So why was he here? He hadn’t changed his mind about becoming one of her suitors, had he?
Her traitorous body grew restless at the thought, even though she knew better than to imagine he could ever be a match for her.
But one way or another, Mairead planned to find Balor and learn exactly why he had come and what he wanted from her.
* * *
After he’d slipped away from the keep, Balor watched over Mairead to ensure she was safe. He hadn’t missed the way Lord Lowell had stared at her. Despite his age, the golden-haired Norman earl was exactly the sort of alliance she should have. He was powerful, wealthy, and an ally of King John’s.
But something about the Norman earl made his fists tighten. Balor told himself it wasn’t jealousy. No, he simply intended to protect Mairead from any man who tried to push against her boundaries. Or kiss her.
All right, so maybe it was a bit of jealousy. But although the earl might have kissed her hand, Balor took satisfaction in the knowledge that he had tasted those lips and felt the press of her body against his.
The memory curled within him like the wisp of a breeze—there for a moment, then gone.
He already knew he could never wed a woman like Mairead. A life of royalty was impossible to imagine, for his status was far beneath the dirt under her feet. Kenneth, too, had little chance of winning her hand in marriage.
Balor recognized Lord Lowell as a genuine threat. He was the sort of man who held the king’s respect. The sort who might win her hand in marriage. Maybe even her heart.
Although he had retreated a slight distance, Lowell remained close by, watching over her.
It took an effort, but Balor forced himself to walk away from the woman he would never have. A sudden flicker of motion caught his attention, and Balor turned just in time to see a skinny young lad surrounded by other boys.
‘You don’t even know how to use a blade, Marcas,’ one taunted. ‘All you ever do is read.’
‘I like reading.’ The boy squared his shoulders and stared back.
‘That’s because you’re too scared to fight,’ another teased. ‘You know you’ll lose and start crying.’
The boy’s posture tensed, and in that moment, it reminded Balor of his younger brother.
It didn’t matter that this wasn’t his fight.
Quietly, he took a few steps forward until he stood behind Marcas.
The boy appeared unaware of his presence, and Balor unsheathed his blade, holding it firmly as he watched the other boys.
The moment they saw him standing there, they stopped their teasing and appeared uncomfortable.
‘Come on,’ the first said. ‘There’s food near the kitchens. I’m hungry.’
The other two followed him, and the boy’s shoulders slumped in relief. But the moment Marcas turned and saw Balor, he let out a yelp.
‘I didn’t see you there,’ the boy apologized.
Balor shrugged. He was about to turn away when Marcas suddenly touched his arm. ‘Wait. You were the reason they didn’t try to fight me.’
‘I was.’ Balor sheathed his weapon and raised his hood, hoping that no one had witnessed the interaction. He’d followed Kenneth and Fergus here, but he didn’t need them to be aware of his presence.
‘I owe you a debt,’ the boy said seriously. He straightened and asked, ‘Are you here to court Lady Mairead?’
Balor didn’t know quite how to answer that, so he said, ‘I’m here to ensure that no one harms her.’
The boy stared at him as if making a decision. ‘So, you don’t want to marry her?’