Chapter Nine #2
Her emotions balled into an ache of misery inside. Balor’s words weren’t meant to fill her with hope—only to leave her heart bruised. He wasn’t truly asking her to stay with him. He was showing her the hopelessness of their situation.
He was giving up on them before anything could start.
With her heart in her throat, she forced herself to answer. ‘I would…hope that we could find a way to be together so I wouldn’t have to choose between you and my family.’
His expression grew shuttered. ‘I think we both know you were never meant to choose someone like me, a mhuirnín.’
Was he turning his back on her because she hadn’t been innocent when she had given herself to him? Raw pain welled up in her eyes when Balor reached for his clothing and dressed in the darkness, giving her a glimpse of strong thighs and a ridged stomach.
But when she looked at him in the dim firelight—and caught a glimpse of regret on his face, she saw something else entirely.
Despite all Balor’s efforts to cast himself as a villain, she saw the man he was. The broken boy whose father had beaten him. The strong warrior who had fought to survive. And the man who had utterly stolen her heart.
‘I disagree.’ She stood and went to his side. ‘I think you are a man worth fighting for.’
‘You’re wrong, Mairead.’ He handed her the fallen overdress in a silent command to dress herself. ‘I know you’ve heard what they call me.’
She hesitated but nodded. ‘The Demon of éireann.’
He gave a nod. ‘And do you know why I deserve that name?’ There was a slight threat within his words, and she recognized that he was trying to frighten her and push her away.
She only met his gaze openly. ‘Others don’t know who you really are. You’ve never let them see.’
‘Oh, I deserve to be called a demon, a mhuirnín. It’s who I am. Who I’ve always been.’
She finished dressing, but even the extra layer of wool did nothing to allay the coldness threatening to cloak her.
‘Then tell me. Why do they call you that? What did you do?’ She turned back to face him, prepared for the worst.
He crossed his arms, still not facing her. ‘I’m not a man of honour, Mairead. I know how to kill. I’ve killed many men—both Normans and Irishmen. And I’m very, very good at it.’
‘When?’ she dared to ask.
He remained quiet for a time. The silence between them was as heavy as an accusation, and it left her confused, almost as if her heart were being pulled apart in different directions.
‘I was returning from my fostering, about a year ago,’ he said. ‘There was a raid, north of Dunmalus.’
Her heart faltered before she realized it wasn’t the same raid that had claimed Diarmud’s life. But he could read the fear in her eyes.
‘I killed seven men that day,’ he said softly. ‘And I have no regrets.’
The words were meant to make her think less of him. But she’d come to know him better than that. Balor would never stand aside and watch an innocent bystander be cut down, no matter the reason.
Mairead narrowed her gaze upon him and faced him down. ‘Who were you protecting?’
The look of surprise on his face only confirmed her guess. His lips tightened as he stared back at her.
‘Was it a woman?’ she ventured.
His fists tightened at his sides, but he gave a nod. ‘And her son.’
‘You fought to defend them.’ It wasn’t a question.
Balor glanced away, and she dared to ask, ‘Did you save them?’
He shook his head. ‘Only the boy. I was too late to save her.’ His voice was low and resonant, but the story came spilling out. ‘She was caught in a fight between two clans, trying to escape after they killed her husband.’
His expression turned distant. ‘They had already won the battle, but it wasn’t enough for them.’ He flexed his fingers and said, ‘They wanted to kill his wife and child as well.’
With a dark expression, he added, ‘I killed every man who dared to raise a weapon against them. One survived and ran away while I took the boy back to his clan.’ His mouth twisted. ‘They blamed me for the deaths and gave me that name.’
‘The bards said you killed twenty men.’
He let out an exasperated sigh. ‘They wanted a good story.’ His gaze fixed upon her, his blue eyes heated. ‘But the truth is, I am guilty of those deaths. And I would do it again.’
Before she could say a word, he added, ‘There’s a reason why your family wants me to stay away from you.’
She lowered her head, the numbness creeping over her. This had nothing to do with his violent past and everything to do with his unwillingness to fight for her. Her words held heaviness as she answered, ‘Why are you telling me this, Balor?’
‘Because you need to know that you can’t love someone like me.
You love the idea of me, but not who I really am.
’ His voice held frustration and a hint of anger.
‘My own family loathes the sight of me, Mairead. My mother sent me away to England for seven years, and they didn’t want me to return.
I know the sort of man I am. The sort of man I’ll always be. ’
Her heart bled as she struggled to reconcile the broken pieces of this man. He was telling her this to justify reasons why they shouldn’t stay together. And she didn’t like it—not at all.
‘Enough,’ she commanded. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’ She moved to face him and rested her hands on his heart. ‘If you don’t want to be with me, then just say it. If you don’t love me in return, if you’re giving up on us, then—’
He dragged her into his arms and kissed her hard, his mouth claiming hers to stop the words. She kissed him back in a silent challenge, daring him to voice how he truly felt.
‘I’ve always wanted the things I can’t have,’ he said against her mouth. Then he slid his tongue inside, reminding her of the intimacy they’d shared.
Balor ó Phelan was a man of action, not words.
She’d witnessed that for herself, time and again.
And as he continued to kiss her, pulling her body against his, she understood that he hadn’t voiced his feelings to her because they made him vulnerable.
For someone who believed no one had ever loved him, he seemed starved for it.
‘Are you angry with me?’ she demanded.
‘No.’ He drew his hands through her hair, cupping her face. ‘I’m angry with myself because I can’t give you the life you need. Not even a home.’ He brushed her lips with his thumb. ‘And I’m jealous of the man you once loved. I wanted to be your first,’ he murmured. ‘And maybe your last.’
The admission softened her own frustration, and she touched Balor’s cheek. There weren’t any answers for how to resolve this.
‘I can’t go back and change the past,’ she said softly. Then she regarded him with her own silent anger. ‘Neither can you.’ Her own tears broke free, sliding down her cheeks. ‘We’ve both made mistakes that we can’t undo.’
He gently wiped her tears away, and the expression in his gaze was both fierce and tender.
‘Did you mean what you said?’ she murmured. ‘About wanting me to leave with you? Or was that nothing at all?’
He rested his head against her forehead. ‘Were it possible, I would take you away from here, Mairead. But I have no right to take you away from the life you deserve.’
‘If I weren’t the daughter of a king, would it be different?’ she asked. ‘Would you want to take me with you?’
He covered her hand with his and squeezed it. ‘King’s daughter or not, I would steal you away.’ He lifted her palm to his mouth and kissed it.
She loved Balor and wished there was a way they could stay together. And perhaps that was the reason why she pulled him down for a kiss, pressing his body close to hers. She needed to savour whatever moments they had left.
He kissed her hard, cradling her face as he drew her to lie upon him. His hands moved down her spine, holding her body close to his. ‘Before I go, remember the way it is between us, with my hands on your skin. The way I make you feel.’
He kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers, and she answered with her own. He broke free and murmured, ‘I’m going to find your brother and bring him back home again. It’s the only thing I can give you.’
She wanted this man with every breath in her, and it took all her courage to pull away. ‘Then come back to me, Balor ó Phelan. Swear it.’
‘On my life.’
And with that, he left the hut, filling her with the fear that she would never see him again.
* * *
In the darkness, Balor walked towards the ruined fortress, fully armed with a sword and blades hidden beneath his clothing. Although he’d come this far to gather information, he didn’t plan on fighting unless someone attacked.
Part of him wished he hadn’t left Mairead behind.
But he’d given her blades of her own, and she was safe in the village.
He continued walking through the darkness, listening to the sounds.
As he drew closer, he wondered why he hadn’t heard anyone talking.
If Liam was guarded in this place, he would expect there to be many Normans, for the tánaiste was a strong fighter.
The silence was unnerving, stretching out in an invisible threat. Had his mother been telling the truth about where Liam had been taken? Or had they moved him already?
Balor rested his hand upon his sword, and every instinct within him sharpened. He crept closer, remaining in the shadows as the moon rose high above the land. There wasn’t much light but enough to see how many men guarded the ruin. His hand tightened upon his sword when he dared risk a look inside.
But he found the fortress empty.
He let out a breath, his shoulders releasing the tension.
In the darkness, he couldn’t truly see much of anything, but he kept his back to the wall as he moved silently inside.
There were the remains of a fire, but when he reached towards the hearth, it had been cold for some time. So someone had been there.