Chapter Two
For the twenty-third night in a row, Cara couldn’t sleep. Aye, even before she found herself the captive of a northern king, riding to what seemed the edge of the world. She knew her parents were up to something when they invited Aodh, her now-captor, to visit Thurles. From the moment he arrived in Thurles, sleepless nights had plagued her. Even with her suspicions, Cara hadn’t come close to guessing their nefarious plot.
She sat up from her woolen blanket, spotting Aodh keeping watch near the remnants of their small fire. He was young for a king, especially a king of one of the largest kingdoms in éire. Only a few years her elder, he had inherited the throne when he was nineteen—a year younger than Cara. She couldn’t imagine the weight of that responsibility. Watching her parents manage one small village felt overwhelming at times. Aodh’s kingdom held hundreds of them, and larger settlements, too. With his gentle manner and handsome face, Cara could have quite enjoyed his company in a different setting.
“Come,” he called softly. “Sit with me.”
When she complied, he offered her a small smile. This had been their ritual every night since they’d left Thurles. Some nights they chatted, others they sat in silence. Being a captive proved quite different than Cara had imagined.
“I suppose you’re probably furious with me,” Aodh said. “You’ve every right to be, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”
Cara studied him for a moment, watching the firelight breathe life into the strands of red that threaded his dark hair, considering his words.
“I’m not, actually.” Her honest answer clearly surprised Aodh, who cocked an eyebrow. “Really,” she insisted. “My family dishonored you, threatened your life while you were a guest in our home. They are the reason I am here now. They are the ones who deserve my wrath, and who deserved yours as well. I do not fault you for unleashing it.”
“Even so,” he replied gently, “I am sorry for it.”
“I will admit that I’m not terribly thrilled at the prospect of marrying Eochaid.” The elderly king of Ulaid was notoriously disagreeable. She’d heard countless tales of his harsh, sometimes ruthless behavior, and had little desire to be on the receiving end of it.
Aodh frowned at that. “I’ll not lie to you, he’s a bear. An old, bitter man taking out his regrets on everyone around him.”
“He sounds lovely.”
“But,” he added cheerily, “he won’t live long. And when he dies, you’ll be a queen of one of the most powerful kingdoms. Though you’ll lose the title, you won’t lose the honor that accompanies it. You’ll be able to marry whomever you wish.”
“If he won’t live long, then why marry me to him at all?” Cara asked, though she had accepted her fate the moment she’d agreed to come with him. Her mother’s life had been spared because of her cooperation, though she was none too pleased with the woman at present.
“He’ll live long enough to rebel and destroy my kingdom. I’m hoping he’ll be placated by my offer of a bride, and subsequently too distracted to do any further damage.”
Cara sighed. She had to admit that, as plans went, it was admirable. “You’re a good man, to resort to marriage over battle in a struggle for power.”
“Lives are too valuable to be thrown away on a whim,” he agreed. “A good leader must know when the prize is worth the cost.”
She opened her mouth to ask more about the remainder of their journey when Aodh went still as a stone, turning his head and listening intently. The air around them shifted, growing so heavy that she could almost feel it about her like a mantle. Aodh’s green eyes roved the tree line before they turned to capture hers. And in those eyes, for the first time since they’d begun their journey, she saw fear.
“Run,” he whispered. “Run and hide.”
Gooseflesh spread down her spine, but Cara didn’t move. “Aodh?”
“Quickly!” he shouted, rising and drawing his sword as men flew into their camp as swiftly as Achilles’ Myrmidons descending upon Troy.
Cara bolted. She didn’t even get a good look at the men who set upon them before she took off in the opposite direction, as fast as her legs could carry her. They’d encircled the camp, but she managed to slip past them as Aodh’s men awoke and engaged them with impressive speed considering they had just been sleeping.
The forest fell away beneath her feet. Her legs moved faster than her feet could manage, and she tumbled over a branch. The sound of swords echoed from the encampment, sending her straight back to her feet. Only this time, she heard someone else’s footfalls as well. She turned to see that one of the men had followed her. Even now, he closed the distance between them at an alarming speed.
Cara’s heart hammered in her chest. She pushed her body to its limits, her legs burning with the exertion. Sweat beaded across her brow—the first time she could ever recall that happening since she was a young girl.
Still, the beast of a man caught her easily. His hand grabbed her upper arm, throwing her off-balance in her headlong sprint. She stumbled, lurching forward.
His arms caught her before her face hit the ground.
Then she smacked him. “Let me go!” she shouted, trying to scratch at him with her free hand.
He caught it, clicking his tongue at her. Mockingly. “That’s not terribly polite, you know. Injuring your rescuer.”
“Rescuer?” she repeated, inhaling with a gulp as she struggled to catch her breath. “What do you mean, rescuer?” He stood a full head taller than her, though she was by no means a woman of slight stature, and his broad shoulders and arms seemed to be built of solid muscle. Long hair fell in a disheveled mess to his shoulders, the top tied back away from his face. He kept a tightly shorn beard and mustache, and though he was handsome, Cara instantly recognized him as a rogue. He had an air of charm about him that always set her on her guard.
“Brian sent us to deliver you from Aodh,” the man explained. “You are Princess Cara of Thurles, are you not?”
She stood tall, doing her damnedest to look down her nose at the giant, even though she had to lift her chin to do so. “I am. And you are?”
“Your rescuer,” he replied with a devilish grin. “I already told you.”
“You’re a pain in the arse, is what you are.”
The rogue actually laughed at her, as though common courtesy was nothing at all to him. “You’ve a sharp tongue.”
Cara didn’t have time for foolish games. “What’s to become of Aodh?”
A smile played at one corner of his mouth. “Charming fellow, isn’t he?”
“I asked you a question,” she shot back, no longer able to hide her irritation and far too tired to care. “Is he to be spared?”
“Aye,” he finally answered. “Brian has granted him clemency in light of your family’s crimes.”
“Good.” Cara took a deep breath, praying for patience as she forged ahead. “And what of me? Will I return to Thurles?”
His deep brown eyes, the same hue as the blackthorn tree behind him, softened. “We’re to escort you to Dyflin, that you might marry Sitric.”
“Very well.” Cara had long ago accepted that her marriage would be an act of strategy, not love, a fact that more than suited her. At least Dyflin was close enough that she could visit her sister from time to time in Thurles.
“That’s it?” her irritating rescuer asked as they began walking back toward the camp. “You don’t even look upset.”
“Should I be?” she asked. “I’ve heard that Sitric is a kind and reasonable man, and I know this alliance is important for Brian. I don’t see what there is to be upset over.”
“It’s been my experience that most women, even those who are prepared for marriage alliances, have some misgivings initially.”
“Misgivings won’t change my responsibilities or my future,” Cara replied matter-of-factly. “I don’t see the need to waste my time on them.”
He regarded her with a curious look before extending an arm, as men often greeted one another. She took it, surprised at how warm his arm felt beneath her hand.
“Diarmid,” he said, finally introducing himself. “Let’s get you to Dyflin.”
Cara fell into step beside Diarmid, thanking the stars above that it wasn’t him she was going to be marrying.