Chapter Seven #3
‘You did nothing.’ His words were cool, emotionless. ‘Except look the other way when Fergus raised his fists to me.’
Orla flinched, as if the words sliced her to the bone. ‘I was afraid Fergus would suspect the truth if I tried to defend you.’
An uneasiness crept within Mairead. ‘Does he know about…your lover now? Is that why he imprisoned you?’
Orla bowed her head. ‘When the Normans came, he…learned some of it. Not all.’ She rubbed her raw wrists and then swiped at her tears. ‘I am sorry for being a coward, Balor. You’re right. I should have stood up to him sooner.’
His mother took a deep breath. ‘I couldn’t…let Fergus see what you meant to me. I had to keep you at a distance to protect you. But I have always loved you, Balor. I swear it.’
Balor stood and retreated to the entrance. It was clear to Mairead that he didn’t believe her. His face might as well have been made of stone as the afternoon sunlight silhouetted him against the shadows. ‘I don’t care.’
Although his words were cold, Mairead could see the unrest beneath his eyes. Despite his callous words, she suspected they were far from the truth. These words held years of hurt, years of abandonment. And he had every reason to be angry with Orla.
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘The only thing I care about is finding Liam MacEgan. Tell me where the Normans took him. The ones Fergus paid.’
Orla rested her head against her knees, as if she realized her son was lost to her. Words meant nothing and could not undo the years of neglect. An ache caught within Mairead’s heart, and her own eyes burned with tears.
‘At a ruined fortress near Banslieve,’ Orla said at last. ‘Fergus paid another group of Norman soldiers to take Liam there a few days ago.’
Mairead’s heart pounded, for she had been to Banslieve before. It wasn’t far from her uncle Connor’s lands, but it was at least a full day’s journey by sea.
‘Fergus wants to claim my father’s throne,’ Mairead predicted. ‘And if my brother is far away…’ Her words drifted off.
‘Then Liam can do nothing to stop Fergus,’ Orla finished. She cast another look at Balor, but her son’s gaze remained hardened.
Though she knew there was nothing that would console him, Mairead went to his side and took his hand in hers. She couldn’t blame him for the tension in his body, the barely concealed fury.
But for the first time, she’d caught a glimpse of his ruthless nature. The sort of man who could cut an enemy down without remorse. And she didn’t know how she felt about it.
‘Thank you for telling us,’ she told his mother.
But Orla didn’t speak another word. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, and she clasped her hands together, not moving.
Then Balor turned his back on her and left.
* * *
They barely managed to get a boat into the sea before MacEgan soldiers emerged in the distance, approaching Dunmalus on horseback.
Balor kept the sail down, rowing out into the open water with Mairead, who crouched low in the boat.
Better if they believed he was a fisherman out alone.
They couldn’t see who he was from this distance.
As he cut through the waves, he emptied his mind of his mother’s revelation.
He didn’t want to know about the Norman who had sired and abandoned him.
His muscles strained as he rowed, keeping his gaze fixed upon the shore. The MacEgans had surrounded Dunmalus. He wished Fergus had been there, but he was glad Kenneth was not.
‘Are you all right, Balor?’ Mairead asked. She was watching him from her hiding place, and the tone of her voice held wariness.
‘I’m fine.’
He told himself it wasn’t a lie. It didn’t matter what words his mother had spun. Her actions mattered more. All his life, he had hungered for someone to care about him. But Orla had hardly ever looked at him. She certainly gave Kenneth the affection and love he’d craved.
How could she imagine that he could ever forget that? Or forgive her for the years of Fergus’s abuse? The loneliness was the worst, even beyond the hunger or the thirst.
He rowed hard in the water, needing the physical exertion to calm his anger.
Though he resented his mother for her cowardice, he couldn’t allow himself to believe that she truly felt affection towards him.
She had made her choice, years ago. And although he should pity her for facing the consequences of Fergus’s wrath—or feel guilt for leaving her behind—he felt nothing, save resentment.
After an hour of rowing, he finally raised the sail. The wind immediately helped them gain speed, and he used an oar as a rudder, steering them west.
‘You can sit up now,’ he told Mairead. ‘They can’t see us.’ The sun was rapidly descending, and soon it would be nightfall.
When she lowered the hood, her dark hair whipped around her face. He watched as Mairead braided it swiftly, tucking it back within her clothing. Then she rested her hands upon his, and he stopped rowing.
‘Is something wrong?’ He couldn’t understand why she’d reached out to him.
To his shock, she moved in close and embraced him hard. Balor tucked her head beneath his chin, holding her close. The embrace reached beneath the shell of his anger, softening it. She didn’t speak, didn’t offer any explanation.
‘You didn’t deserve what your family did to you.
’ Mairead rested her cheek against his, and her actions were an unexpected comfort he’d never imagined.
He held her in his arms, breathing in the scent of her hair.
The quiet embrace slipped past his own defences, pressing against the heart he shielded from everyone else.
It only strengthened his resolve not to let her go.
Balor stroked her hair back and brushed his mouth across the top of her head, fighting back against the ache in his chest. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’ The past couldn’t be changed. ‘But I won’t allow Fergus to threaten your brother’s throne.’
She pulled away, and in the fading sunlight, her face was bright and lovely. She glanced back at the mainland, her expression pensive and hopeful. And he was an utter bastard for taking her away from her family and home, even if she’d asked him to.
‘I pray that we find Liam,’ she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed on the horizon. ‘Do you think he’s alive?’
‘I hope he is.’ He didn’t say that it was more likely her brother was hurt or even dead. Better if she didn’t imagine the thousand things that could go wrong if they tried to rescue him.
But he didn’t care.
Whenever Mairead looked upon him, she didn’t seem to see what everyone else saw.
She treated him as if she saw the man he wanted to be—instead of the man he was.
With every moment he spent at her side, the more he wanted her to have faith in him.
He wanted to give her the joy of seeing her brother alive again.
And maybe it would close up the invisible wounds that his own family had sliced, leaving him with only pieces of himself.
This journey with her might be his only chance to spend time alone with Mairead. But the moment they reached Banslieve, they would have to find allies. Possibly her uncle.
‘Even if we find Liam, we can’t save your brother alone,’ he reminded her. ‘We’re outnumbered.’
She gave a nod. ‘We are. But it couldn’t have been a large force who took him—otherwise, my father’s soldiers would have seen them.’ She paused and added, ‘We don’t have to fight them—we would only need to help my brother escape. If we go together, I could be a distraction while you free him.’
Balor already knew there was little hope of a rescue—not with only two of them. They could track down her brother, but even if they found him, it was unlikely he could free Liam without being caught.
He didn’t know if the MacEgans had seen their escape by water, but if they had, Balor was starting to wonder if he should give them a chance to catch up.
If his mother was right about Liam’s location, they would need those forces to free the tánaiste.
By hunting Mairead, they could lead the king’s men to save his son. It was worth considering.
‘I’m not putting your life in danger,’ he told Mairead. ‘But we will try to find Liam.’
‘How long will we sail?’
‘It depends. If the wind holds, we should arrive within another day.’ But it could take longer since they needed horses and more supplies to travel inland.
‘Thank you,’ she said, reaching out to touch his hand. He stopped rowing a moment and squeezed it in return. Her green eyes warmed. ‘I owe you a debt for this.’
Balor gave a shrug, as if he didn’t have every intention of keeping her. He wasn’t helping her out of a selfless desire to help the tánaiste. It was purely for his own gain.
And from the way Mairead was looking at him now, so full of hope and gratitude, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything at all.
After Balor released her hand, Mairead leaned her face into the wind and smiled. ‘Is this what it feels like to be free?’
No. It felt like wanting something he was never supposed to have. But instead, he gave another nod and focused on rowing.
For a time, she said nothing, simply staring at the horizon. A shadow seemed to cross her face when he kept them clear of Ennisleigh and continued rowing west. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the last time they had been in a boat together, he’d intended to kidnap her then, too.
‘Balor, could I ask you a question?’ she asked softly. He turned to look at her, and sadness seemed to slide across her face. ‘Why did your mother marry Fergus if she loved someone else?’
He hadn’t wanted to think of it. For so long, he’d believed the story she’d told—that a soldier had attacked her. All her life, Orla had been withdrawn from everyone. He’d assumed it was because of the attack, not because she’d lost someone—his father.
He’d suspected that she hadn’t loved Fergus, that she’d married him out of desperation instead of desire. ‘I suppose she thought she didn’t have a choice. Especially if she was pregnant with me.’
‘Did Fergus know about her pregnancy when he married her?’
‘Maybe. She didn’t marry him right away, and she let him believe she’d been attacked.’ He stared out at the sea, silencing the rise of his own questions. ‘But he knew I wasn’t his son.’
And Fergus had blamed him for Orla’s anguish.
It didn’t matter if Orla had loved a Norman, years ago. She’d made her choices and so had his real father. Balor didn’t want anything to do with the man who had abandoned both of them.
‘She should have left Fergus years ago,’ he finished. Although part of him understood that she’d also been left behind, it angered him that Orla had never stood up to her husband. At least, not until the day when Fergus had lost his temper, blaming Balor for something he hadn’t done.
His mistake had been trying to defend himself and fight back.
Fergus had struck him, and without thinking, Balor had pushed the chieftain away.
After that, he had little memory of what had happened, aside from the vicious beating and losing consciousness.
His mother had somehow stopped Fergus—and after that, she’d sent Balor away to England.
Before that night, she’d always shied away from conflict, trying to talk Fergus out of it. But words had never been enough.
Mairead drew her knees up, studying him. ‘I can understand why you wanted my father to depose him as chieftain and put your brother in his place.’
‘Anyone is better than Fergus.’
She gave a single nod. ‘After we find my brother and bring him home, I will find a way to help you.’ He gave no response, for he didn’t know if that was even possible. But then she tilted her head and regarded him. ‘Why don’t you want to become the chieftain yourself?’
He hardly knew how to answer that. He’d never even considered it in all these years. After he’d left home, he’d never imagined wanting to come back to Dunmalus. It had never been a true home to him.
He’d grown up in the shadows, feeling like no one cared about him.
As a child among the ó Phelans, he’d been told for years that he was unworthy because of his birthright.
He couldn’t simply ignore the years of believing he was less than the others and suddenly decide he wanted to be a leader.
They would never accept him. And perhaps that was the easiest answer to give.
‘Because the people would never want a man like me.’