Chapter Seven #2
It wasn’t hard to see that Mairead had been coerced into obedience by her father. And so, Balor had made plans of his own.
He’d spent part of last night exploring Rionallís, for he’d anticipated having to make his own escape. Not for one moment did he believe he was safe here, and he’d wanted to know the best way to quietly leave. Now that Mairead’s father was here, his time had run out.
And so, he’d waited for her inside her chamber.
The moment Mairead entered the room, he lowered the bar across the door and stood in front of it.
‘Balor!’ she gasped and stepped back. ‘You frightened me.’
He pointed towards her bed where he had set aside serf’s clothing for her. ‘I brought you these to wear.’
She blinked a moment and stared at him. ‘Why?’
‘Because if we’re going to find your brother, you need to blend in with the others.’
Her expression turned thoughtful, but she laid the clothing back on the bed. ‘You should turn around.’
He started to move, but then her green eyes locked with his as she began to loosen the laces of her gown. His throat went dry, even as honour demanded that he turn away from her.
‘I should, shouldn’t I?’ The words revealed a trace of rebellion.
Mairead answered his defiance as she slowly raised the overdress and leíne over her head, wearing only her shift.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away as she reached for the trews and pulled them on beneath her shift. Then she turned her back on him and lifted the shift away, giving him a slight glimpse of bare skin and the curve of one breast.
God above. The sight of her was a temptation that silenced his honour while she dressed in the tunic and cloak. It took everything in him not to reach for her and press her down to the bed, feeling that softness beneath him. She awakened a hunger in him, a craving that would never be satisfied.
Mairead hid her gown within a trunk on the other side of the room and turned back to him. She braided her hair and stuffed it down the back of the tunic.
‘Should we leave?’ she asked coolly.
He managed a nod. ‘Lift your hood first. I’ll go down the stairs, and you’ll wait before following. Find a group of men to trail behind, if you can.’
He lifted the wooden bar across the door and left. He didn’t see any guards, which meant they hadn’t seen him enter Mairead’s chamber earlier.
When he reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, he heard her footsteps behind him. He kept his pace even, as if nothing was wrong.
But just as he reached the door leading outside the castle keep, a hand seized his arm. ‘And just where are you going, ó Phelan?’
He turned and saw Bevan MacEgan. The older man’s gaze was shrewd, as if he fully expected Balor’s defiance.
Behind him, the footsteps stopped, and he prayed Mairead would remain out of view. ‘I’m going home to Dunmalus,’ he answered honestly. ‘Unless you’d prefer that I stay?’
The Irishman’s expression held a warning. ‘Leave my niece alone.’
He pulled his arm free and faced the man. ‘I’ve done nothing except obey her orders.’
Bevan ignored the response. ‘She needs to remain safe with her family. Stay out of this.’
Something about the man’s warning felt like a challenge.
Balor simply smiled and walked past the man through the doors.
He didn’t turn back, not wanting to reveal Mairead’s disguise.
He walked towards the inner wall, fully aware of the soldiers trailing behind him, likely from MacEgan’s orders.
Balor knew if he drew the men away from Mairead, it would be easier for her to leave.
And then what? his mind prompted. It wasn’t as if she could stay with him after they found her brother. He was her protector; that was all. After that, he had to return her to her family, where she could wed a nobleman.
But a rebellious side of him wanted to keep her. He wanted to shatter Mairead’s carefully constructed world of royalty and steal the woman he wasn’t meant to have.
He didn’t know what sort of madness this was, to even consider it.
But he’d never really been a man of honour—he’d been a man bent on learning to fight.
And learning to survive. He’d been told by Fergus, time and again, that he was worthless.
Even now, the MacEgans wanted him to stay away from her. And yet…
Mairead had asked to come with him. Not the earl. Not another nobleman.
Him. The Demon of éireann.
Maybe it was time to stop believing what others said about him—and time to seize what he truly wanted. And if being wicked gave him Mairead MacEgan, so be it.
Balor walked forward, keeping his hand on his sword hilt as he silently passed the guards and continued to the stables to retrieve the horse he’d taken from Laochre.
After he mounted the horse, he rode outside the gates alone. It wouldn’t be long before someone discovered Mairead’s disappearance, so he searched for a sign of her. She was no longer with the serfs she’d followed, and he studied the forest nearby.
He kept his horse in a walk, still searching.
Then, at last, he saw her emerge at the edge of the woods.
After ensuring that no one was watching, Balor dismounted and helped her on the horse before swinging up behind her.
Within moments, he urged the horse into a hard run, moving swiftly towards the coast.
‘Your father will have me whipped for this if we’re caught,’ he murmured in her ear.
‘Then let’s not get caught.’ She leaned back against him, and her words made him tighten his grip around her as they rode hard towards Dunmalus.
He was careful to hide their tracks as best he could, riding through forests and streams. But during the journey, all he could think of was that he’d given her the choice to return to her safe world—and she’d chosen him instead.
No one had ever chosen him. Ever.
She didn’t know, couldn’t understand, what that meant.
This was no longer about finding her brother or learning the truth about King John’s plans amid the Irish nobility.
She had trusted him with her life, and he no longer cared about what was right or honourable.
If Mairead wanted him, then he would keep her until the last breath was ripped from his body. No one would take her from him.
The sun was high in the sky by the time they neared Dunmalus. Balor slowed their pace slightly, unwilling to risk Mairead’s safety. He had no interest in speaking with his father, but his mother might have the answers they sought.
There was one place where the ó Phelans might have hidden Liam, if he was their prisoner—and it was not at the fortress.
They continued riding past Dunmalus before he turned the horse towards the coast. ‘Where are we going?’ Mairead asked. ‘I thought—’
‘We’re travelling to the place where the chieftain keeps his prisoners,’ he finished. ‘The mound of hostages.’
He continued past the fortress, keeping the hill of Amadán behind them, until they reached a smaller hillside. The earthen interior had been hollowed out with an iron gate.
But the moment Balor saw it, his hopes faded. ‘There are no guards.’ Fergus would never keep a high-ranking prisoner such as the tánaiste unguarded.
‘We should look inside anyway,’ Mairead said.
Her suggestion held merit, for it was still possible that they might find evidence that her brother had been there at one time.
He obeyed her wish, and they dismounted and approached. Mairead walked downhill towards the entrance of the mound. Balor shadowed her, and as they drew close, his heart sank.
There was indeed a prisoner inside. And it was his mother.
* * *
Balor wrenched the iron gate open, and Mairead saw that the woman’s hands and feet were tied together. Sympathy rose within her, and she reached for the blade at her waist, intending to cut the woman’s bonds.
‘Why did they do this to you?’ Balor demanded.
The woman glanced up, her face paling at the sight of her son. ‘You shouldn’t be here. Fergus will kill you.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’ His voice remained tight with fury. And when Mairead took a closer look, she noticed that the woman had Balor’s same blue eyes. It had to be his mother. But for whatever reason, there was anger between them.
‘Are you hurt?’ she asked.
The woman’s gaze turned tired. ‘No. Only hungry and thirsty.’
Mairead used her blade to cut the woman’s ropes while Balor pulled out food and drink to offer her. He gave her a flask of mead, which she accepted gratefully, along with the bread. Afterwards, Balor repeated his earlier question. ‘What happened, Orla?’
She leaned back against the earthen wall. ‘The Normans came to Dunmalus.’
Mairead’s gut tightened, and she feared that they had taken her brother to England. It wouldn’t be hard to sail away from these shores.
‘Why? What did they want?’ Balor asked.
Her face paled, and she drew her knees up. For a long moment, it appeared as if she was trying to gather courage. Mairead moved beside her and took her hand. ‘Don’t be afraid. No harm will come to you.’
‘I’ve always been afraid,’ Orla said quietly. ‘And I despise myself for it. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been so afraid.’ Her gaze passed over to Balor, and it held only regret.
Balor sheathed his knife and came to sit with her. ‘Did Fergus pay the Normans to take Liam?’
She held her silence, as if trying to find the right words. Then she shook her head. ‘These men weren’t the same Normans who took Liam.’ She swallowed hard. ‘They…were sent by your real father, Balor. To find you.’
His posture went rigid, his jaw tightening. In the shadows of the mound of hostages, Mairead sensed his fury. ‘I don’t need to be found by the man who hurt you.’
Tears rolled down Orla’s face. ‘You don’t understand. I—’
‘I don’t want to understand,’ he shot back. ‘I have no father. I never did.’
‘You do,’ she whispered. ‘And your father didn’t—he didn’t violate me. I loved him.’ Tears rolled down her face, and she admitted, ‘Everything I did was to protect you.’