Chapter Six
They reached the MacEgan holdings at Laochre a few hours past nightfall. Killian led the horse for the last mile, because after riding so close to Taryn, his body ached for her.
He pushed away the needs he didn’t want to acknowledge.
The kiss had been intended to silence her, to warn her not to befriend him.
Instead, it had shaken his senses, making him want to lay her down and touch her for hours.
Never in his life had any woman responded to him like that, and it had affected him deeply.
It had stirred her senses as well, and he recognized, too well, the danger. If he didn’t shut down the unexpected desire, it would only heighten during the days spent alone with her. He knew better than to court disaster.
And so he’d drawn her hair over her scars, utterly slicing apart her feelings. He knew the scars bothered her, though he thought nothing of them. But it was a means of protecting her. Better that she should hate him than desire him.
The open land stretched out before them, illuminated by silvery moonlight.
Torches lined the stone walls in the distance, flares that reminded outsiders of the numerous soldiers who guarded Laochre Castle.
It was one of the greatest strongholds near the southern coast, and Lochlannach settlers had their own presence within a few miles.
To MacEgan allies, Laochre represented a sanctuary amid the upheaval of the past few years.
To enemies, it was a fortress that could never be captured.
When they were within half a mile of the gates, an adolescent boy ran forward to welcome them.
He was dressed little better than a slave, but Killian recognized Ewan MacEgan immediately.
He was the youngest brother of the King, and he rarely followed any rules, save those that suited him.
The moment Ewan neared them, Taryn pulled her hair forward, lowering her face from view.
“Killian MacDubh,” Ewan greeted him, a smile breaking over his face. “I haven’t seen you since last summer. Can you still swing two swords at the same time? I’ve been wanting to learn that.”
He gave a nod to the young man. “I can. And one day you will do the same.” He was about to explain why they had come, but Ewan was already chattering.
“You’ve brought a lady with you. Is she your wife, then?” His voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t seem at all embarrassed by it.
“No,” Taryn interrupted. “He is my escort, nothing more.”
Indeed. It seemed that she had recognized his silent warning and now understood it. Killian hadn’t wanted to upset her, but better that than to kindle unwanted feelings.
Before Taryn could say another word, the boy bowed. “Welcome to Laochre, my lady.” The young man’s face lit up with interest, and he added, “I am King Patrick’s brother. Ewan MacEgan is my name.”
Taryn’s face softened into a smile. “I thank you for your hospitality. I am Taryn Connelly of Ossoria.”
“The King’s daughter,” Killian clarified. He didn’t want Ewan believing that she was an ordinary lady.
“I have come to visit with your kinsmen,” Taryn explained. “I am on my way to Tara, and I am seeking warriors to accompany me.”
At that, an eager grin spread over Ewan’s face, as if he was more than willing to go with her.
“My brothers and I would be glad to be of service.” His voice deepened, and he began boasting of how many fighters the MacEgans had and how they were renowned throughout éireann.
Killian risked a glance at Taryn and saw the bewildered look on her face.
The lad had barely stopped to breathe as he’d continued talking.
“Has Lady Carice arrived yet?” he interrupted. If she had, Ewan would already be aware of it.
The young man shook his head. “Trahern went to fetch her earlier today. I don’t know when he’ll bring her back.”
“When did he leave?” Killian asked.
“A few hours ago. I suppose he’ll be back by morning.
” He sent another devilish smile toward Taryn, and from the sudden interest in Ewan’s face, Killian could tell that the young man was quite taken with her.
The lady nodded to him in acknowledgment, and Ewan proceeded to talk once again without ceasing, as they walked toward the castle gates.
The cat poked his gray head from the basket, and Killian rubbed the animal’s ears. Harold looked as if he wanted to jump down from the horse, and he lifted the cat from the basket, tucking him under one arm.
When they reached the castle, he saw soldiers surrounding the battlements of Laochre.
It was a heavily defended fortress, particularly since they had been attacked and invaded by Normans in the past. Patrick had married a Norman bride to keep the peace, and there had been few battles since that time.
As Killian led the horse beneath the portcullis, he saw Taryn glance upward at the murder hole that Ewan was gleefully pointing out. She exchanged a silent glance of amusement with him, as if the boy’s adolescent behavior reminded her of a younger brother.
Inside the gates, another wall surrounded the inner bailey. The grounds were immaculate, and Killian helped Taryn dismount so one of the stable boys could take the horse.
Considering how afraid of horses she’d been, Taryn had voiced no complaint for the remainder of the journey.
When it was clear that Francis was not going to throw her again, she had seemed to relax.
It had allowed Killian to keep the pace swift, and he was glad they had arrived before it was too dark to travel any farther.
But when he’d ridden behind her, it had been impossible for him to find any sort of peace.
With her body held close, he was all too aware of her curves and her scent.
His imagination had tormented him with stolen visions of touching this woman.
He never should have kissed her. It had been meant as a warning, as a means of frightening her into keeping her distance.
But instead, the physical frustration had become his own.
It was only during the last mile that Killian had dismounted, leaving her to ride alone. She had tensed, but when she saw how close they were, she’d put aside her fears.
They walked inside another gate leading toward the main castle. He shadowed Taryn as Ewan escorted her inside. Though he had spent a summer training among the MacEgan warriors and he knew the men well, Killian felt apprehensive about standing in their Great Chamber as a visitor.
At the far end of the room, he saw Queen Isabel speaking with her husband, Patrick. The King was leaning toward his wife, and their shared look held an intimacy as if they were alone with no one looking on.
Oblivious to their moment, Ewan hurried toward them and began introducing Taryn. “This is Lady Taryn of Ossoria, and she’s come to stay with us.”
Taryn lowered her head, still keeping her face as hidden as she could. “I am pleased to meet you both. And I would be grateful for your hospitality for a night or two, if I may.”
Killian bowed to the King and dropped to one knee. “The Lady intends to journey to Tara and is seeking men to accompany her. I was also hoping you might have word about my sister, Carice.”
The King beckoned for him to rise. “Your sister has not arrived yet.” His gaze shifted over to Taryn and he greeted her, saying, “Both of you may remain at Laochre as long as you have the need.” He gave orders to a servant to bring them both food and drink.
Queen Isabel approached Taryn with a soft smile. “I am glad to meet you, Taryn.” She introduced herself and took Taryn’s hand, linking it in her arm. “Come, and we will talk awhile.”
She nodded, keeping her face hidden and drawing up the hood of her cloak as if she were chilled. It was the only way she could hide her scars from the view of everyone else.
Patrick stood until the women had left, and his expression held wariness. When he turned back to Killian, he asked, “Is she aware that her father is being held for treason?”
“Aye. She means to plead for his life.” He said nothing about Taryn’s hope to free the man from imprisonment, sensing that the King would disagree with her decision. But the dark expression upon Patrick’s face suggested he knew more about Devlin’s capture—and that it involved treachery.
The King of Laochre paused a moment, then added, “Devlin allied with the Normans in an attempt to overthrow the High King. They will execute him at Imbolc.”
“Lady Taryn wants me to save him,” he admitted to the King.
Undoubtedly, her loyalty was a daughter’s unconditional love—but given the stories, it was probable that Devlin had indeed attempted an uprising.
And Killian knew that, if he became involved in a rescue attempt, his own life would be at risk.
“No one can save him now,” Patrick countered. He sat down upon a carved wooden throne once more, gesturing for Killian to join him. “Her only hope is to plead for a swift, merciful death.”
“And what will happen to Ossoria?”
The King shook his head. “Likely Rory ó Connor will seize command of the territory and give it to one of his allies to govern.”
“Would you be one of them?” he asked, uncertain of where Patrick’s sympathies lay.
In answer, the King lifted his silver cup, a smile playing upon his lips. “I am loyal to my tribe and to my people. I have no wish to take another kingdom for my own. But one of my brothers might agree to rule over the province on Rory’s behalf.”
Killian didn’t miss the subtle hint that, aye, Patrick might indeed be willing to use his brothers to gain command of Ossoria.
Though it shouldn’t bother him at all, he wondered if that meant one of them would want to wed Taryn.
A sudden tightness took hold of his mood at the thought.
He had no right to be jealous—none at all.
Taryn was meant to marry a nobleman, and she had no choice in that arrangement.
The sooner he separated himself from her, the better.