Chapter 27
C omgall couldn’t sleep. He tried a cup of wine, then another. He stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt, and threw off the blankets, but still he twisted and turned, unable to relax. He could not stop thinking about Bethany. Eithne had tried her best to distract him all through dinner, pressing her lithe body against him, but he barely saw her. All he could picture was Bethany’s face as she watched him ride past her. Her brown hair and golden skin had blended in with the trees as if she was some spirit of the forest. It had almost broken his heart to pretend he didn’t see her.
Did she think he didn’t care?
His head told him that it didn’t matter. He needed to marry Eithne and forget all about Bethany. It was what a king would do, and he was a king now, for better or worse. His people had elected him to lead them, and he must put them first. If he’d never met Bethany, he would be happily preparing to marry this princess, regardless of her family. He would be getting ready to live his life as he was supposed to .
If he’d never met Bethany.
Even the thought made him wince.
Why couldn’t he just forget her and get on with his life? Suddenly, everything that had once felt right felt oh so wrong.
In the woods that afternoon, Bethany had told him to stop. But it hadn’t felt as if he was betraying Eithne, whatever the words on the betrothal contract said. Instead, every moment he spent with Eithne felt like a betrayal of Bethany.
By the time dawn broke, Comgall knew that he could not go on like this. He needed to act. He opened his door with a bang and waved at Ciaran. It was good luck that his closest friend was on duty today.
“I will be riding down to the village,” he said when Ciaran snapped to attention. “To Finola’s cottage. Ready some men to ride with me.”
He paused, examining his friend with narrowed eyes. It was rare that Comgall deviated from his usual morning routine. It should have got more of a reaction.
“You don’t look surprised,” he said.
Ciaran shrugged.
“I’m not,” he said. “I’ll ride with you.”
They rode out of the stables just a few moments later. The stable boys had almost fallen out of bed in their rush to saddle a horse for the king.
With each step his mount took, Comgall got more and more nervous. Was he making the biggest mistake of his life? Would this undermine everything he and his mother had worked for? He caught Ciaran watching him out of the corner of his eye, but the bodyguard said nothing.
By the time they got to the cottage, Comgall was sweating with nerves .
“Wait here, please,” he instructed Ciaran, and swung down from his horse. He left Ciaran waiting in the lane and walked over to knock on the cottage door. He wiped his clammy hands on his tunic and said a quick prayer.
Bethany answered the door. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.
“We need to talk,” he blurted out, cutting her off before she could greet him with that ridiculous my lord . As if they had shared nothing.
But she did not open the door any further. And when she spoke, her voice was wary.
“We already said everything that needed to be said. You should probably leave.”
“Bethany, please let me in,” Comgall begged. “This is important.”
Her reluctant expression did not lighten. But she opened the door enough for him to slip inside.
Matthew was sitting by the hearth, and Comgall greeted him with a smile.
“Hello there, little lad,” he said. “That’s a handsome toy you have there.”
As always, the boy said nothing, just smiled. Comgall was pleased to see him with the horse toy. He recognised it as the one he’d sent to Bethany’s room as a gift for the boy. It was good to see it being enjoyed.
“I’d like to talk to you alone,” he said to Bethany, pulling his attention back from the boy. In truth, it was hard not to notice Bethany when they were in a room together.
Indecision flitted across her face.
“Finola is out, seeing to a pregnant woman. I’d rather not leave Matthew alone,” she said. “You can talk to me here. ”
The message was clear. There would be no repeat of the incident in the woods. Comgall swallowed hard and tried to accept that. It was not why he’d come here.
He just had to find the words to explain why he had come here.
“Marrying Eithne feels wrong,” he said, fumbling for the right words. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Bethany, no matter what I do. Will you marry me? Not as Eithne, but as yourself. Whoever you are.”
Bethany gaped at him. He stood there in agonised silence, waiting for some kind of response. This was certainly not the reaction he had hoped for.
“What about the alliance?” she asked at last.
Comgall shrugged. He’d had a little time to think about it.
“I’ll find a way,” he said. “Or my mother will. I want you, not Eithne. That’s all there is to it.”
Bethany eyed him closely. He started to feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
“Have you told Eithne that?” she asked.
He hesitated, his heart sinking.
“No, I haven’t,” he admitted. “I wanted to talk to you first.”
Bethany shook her head.
“This is dishonest,” she said. “It’s wrong. You’re still betrothed to the poor woman. You shouldn’t even be here, let alone talking to me like this. And I can’t marry you anyway, never mind Eithne. Comgall, I’m finally getting the chance to build a life on my own terms. I’ve never had this chance before. I’m not about to give it up, not even for you. Besides, I’m hardly queen material.”
Her words hit Comgall like a stone wall. He blinked at her.
“Bethany, please,” he began, uncertain what he could say .
But she turned away before he got any further.
“Please, leave,” she said, looking down at the ground.
He reached to touch her shoulder. There must be some way to convince her, some way to change her mind. But when she looked over her shoulder at him, pain was clear on her face, and tears shone in her eyes.
That pain hit him like a punch to the gut. He backed away, horrified. He’d caused that pain. And he must never do it again.
“Goodbye, then, Bethany,” he said quietly. “I would never stand in your way. If you want freedom, you will have it.”