Chapter Twelve
The next morning, a cold dullness seemed to encircle Mairead, distancing her from those around her. The wedding was prepared, and the guests were gathered outside the small chapel. She waited beside her cousin Alanna, who was clad in her own finery.
‘Are you certain about this?’ Although Mairead tried to keep her courage up, her nerves tangled up inside her.
Her cousin’s hands were as cold as her own. ‘I am. And though this path is a troubled one for you, it is the right one. I believe that.’
Mairead embraced her cousin. ‘We’ve always been there for each other from the moment I was a small child. And…although this is a risk, maybe you’ll find love, too, one day.’
‘It’s unlikely.’ Alanna’s voice held a hint of sadness. ‘I know what they say about me. Everyone believes I am mad.’
‘Not everyone,’ Mairead reassured her. ‘You were always one of my favourite cousins.’
Alanna gave a slight nod, though her expression grew strained. She took a deep breath and ventured, ‘Are you ready for what lies ahead?’
‘No,’ she answered honestly. ‘I’m more afraid of what will happen this day than anything else I’ve ever done.’
‘You needn’t be,’ Alanna said. ‘All the wedding arrangements are in place. But in the end, you still have a choice. If you don’t want to do this—’
‘No matter what I decide, it’s the wrong choice.’ And the slightest defiance could mean Balor’s death. She couldn’t bear for that to happen, regardless of his wishes.
His words haunted her even now, with his demand that she refuse the match and marry him instead. She wanted to, with everything in her. The idea of sharing her life with Balor filled her with such bittersweet joy, even if it meant leaving her family. But she didn’t know if it could ever happen.
She gripped her cousin’s hand for silent support, and Alanna ventured a smile. ‘It will be all right, I promise you. Lord Lowell is a good man.’
Mairead took a deep breath and gave a nod. She was careful as they descended the spiral stairs and walked towards the open doors outside where the ceremony would be held before the later feasting in the Hall.
Rain was pouring outside, and Alanna lifted up her hood to hide her hair and face. ‘This is a good omen.’
‘It is.’ Mairead raised her own hood and stepped away from her cousin. King John of England sat a goodly distance away with her father on a covered dais while Lord Lowell stood close to the chapel doors.
Then she walked towards the earl alone, her face and hair concealed by the hood, to take her place as the bride.
* * *
After sailing all night, the coastline of Laochre emerged in the morning sunlight. Liam had slept for part of the journey, leaving Balor troubled with thoughts of Mairead. The cold wind cut into him, but he didn’t feel it at all.
As he stared out into the bleak grey morning, he forced himself to face the truth. She’d likely married the earl since none of the soldiers had pursued them thus far. There was an emptiness at the thought, a gnawing ache of loneliness that he pushed aside.
She’d told him she loved him. And he hadn’t given back the words, hadn’t told her the raw feelings in his own heart.
He’d let his pride get in the way, accusing her of martyrdom when she’d only been trying to save him. The bitter emptiness flooded through him with regret.
He wished he could tell her the words now.
Maybe he hadn’t said them because he didn’t believe that this beautiful, kind woman could ever love someone like him. He didn’t really know what love was—but he knew he would walk through fire for Mairead.
He would never forget the way she’d made him feel, the moments of joy in her arms, no matter how fleeting. Her smile would haunt him until he drew his last breath.
All he could do was harden his heart to the emptiness. He would save her brother before he returned to England to live an unknown future without her. And perhaps one day, he would learn to let her go.
As dawn broke across the horizon, dying torches lined the island fortress of Ennisleigh, lighting a path towards the channel near the mainland. The water was calm with only the slightest waves lapping against the shore. Behind them, the sky was creased with rose and amber as the sun began to rise.
The boat reached the edge of the pier, and Balor tied it off, securing the vessel.
He followed the tánaiste, keeping his hand upon his sword.
The morning sunlight lifted above the horizon, illuminating the fields as he walked up the hillside behind Liam.
When they reached the top of the outcropping, the limestone walls of Laochre Castle gleamed in the distance.
They walked through the fields in silence, but as they drew closer, Liam changed his direction away from the gates and led them towards a small, thatched roundhouse on the outer edge. When they walked inside the small hut, it appeared deserted.
‘Why are we stopping here?’ Balor asked.
‘Something’s wrong.’ Liam glanced over at the castle. ‘It’s too quiet. I want to find out what’s happening inside Laochre.’
Balor paused to listen and realized the tánaiste was right. There should have been more voices, the sounds of activity or even the low hum of conversation. Instead, it did seem unnaturally quiet.
Liam raised up an opening in the floor and revealed a ladder that went down into an underground storage chamber. ‘This leads underground towards the castle. Follow me.’
Balor climbed down below, and Liam moved storage baskets out of the way, shoving against a wall until a passageway opened.
Then he stopped to regard Balor. ‘I’ll need your help once we’re inside. If anyone—Fergus especially—has harmed my wife or if my children are in any danger, I will end him.’
‘My sword is yours,’ Balor agreed.
But before they continued through the passageway, Liam studied him. ‘I think many people misjudged you, ó Phelan. I’ll admit that I was wrong. You would have been a strong defender for my sister.’
‘I would have died for her,’ Balor said quietly.
Liam reached out and gripped his arm. ‘I’d rather have you among my fighting men. If you would rather stay here, instead of in England with Beaumont, I would offer you a place here, at Laochre.’
He understood that it was honour being asked, but it was too soon to make that decision. He needed to know what sort of future lay ahead for him. And he didn’t know if he could stand to see Mairead married to someone else. It might be better to remain in England.
But for now, he said, ‘I will think on it.’
Then he followed the tánaiste into the castle, neither knowing what lay ahead.
* * *
Mairead sat within the boat, her back rigid as they approached Laochre.
Inside, she felt numb to everything that had happened.
It was as if she were living another woman’s life, and she could feel the shadow of uneasiness.
Her father sat beside her while their men rowed behind them.
In the king’s bearing, she perceived his own unrest.
She and Alanna had upended King John’s plans—but it was her cousin who had taken the greatest risk and had married Lord Lowell in her place.
Mairead had been startled that the earl had agreed to their proposition the night before the wedding.
But Lord Lowell and Alanna were closer in age, and it seemed that there was the foundation of a friendship between them.
She hadn’t realized that they had talked together on several occasions.
She suspected that Alanna did care for Lord Lowell.
And maybe both would find joy in their union.
Alanna had wanted to wed the earl, unlike herself.
After the two had married the next morn, her cousin’s happiness had been undeniable. The earl, too, seemed satisfied with the match.
King John had been furious at their wedding switch, but he could not deny that a MacEgan alliance had taken place, just as he’d wanted.
The only trace of acceptance amid the king’s rage was the fact that he had let them go.
She’d learned from her father that Liam and Balor had left the castle the night before, so both were free.
But even so, Mairead knew she had weakened her father’s position. And she didn’t know what that meant for them now.
When she glanced at Patrick, she saw the weariness in his eyes as they approached the coast. His face held the lines of so many years, and from the way he stared towards Laochre, she could tell that he was missing Isabel.
Mairead had always admired her parents’ union. No, she hadn’t obeyed King John’s command. But how could she, when her own parents knew what love was? She wanted that kind of marriage for herself. And no matter that the earl had been kind, it hadn’t been fair to him, either.
‘You didn’t sleep last night, did you?’ her father said at last, breaking the silence.
She shook her head. ‘No.’ How could she when she didn’t know whether Balor had arrived safely? Until she saw him with her own eyes, the worry would remain.
Although Patrick hadn’t blamed her for refusing Lord Lowell, she didn’t truly know what would happen now.
It didn’t matter if she had to give up the life of a king’s daughter.
She was willing to live in poverty if it meant being with the man she loved.
But did Balor love her in return? He’d never said the words.
Perhaps it was time to simply be honest with her father. ‘Balor asked me to marry him, the night before he left.’
She didn’t miss her father’s tension, but Patrick ventured, ‘And did you agree?’
Her feelings were held together by the barest thread. ‘If he’s still alive, I do want that. If he’ll still have me.’
Her father chose his words carefully. ‘I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you, Mairead. I want you to be happy.’
‘So do I,’ she managed. But at least he hadn’t said anything about Balor or disapproving of him. It gave her a trace of hope.