Chapter Six #3
Taryn brightened a little. It felt good to have a woman sympathize with her.
“He did deserve to be struck down, aye. But I told him I would not marry him.” Since then, she’d hidden herself away, refusing to consider other suitors, despite her mother’s attempts to arrange a marriage.
She didn’t want to admit to anyone how much Lucas had hurt her feelings.
It was easier to pretend to be a strong woman, to behave as if she didn’t care.
But she did. And she’d spent the past year learning how to become a good queen. It was easier to involve herself in the lives of others than to face her own bleak prospects.
“It sounds as if you are well rid of him.” Though her face held curiosity, Isabel did not ask how Taryn had been scarred.
“My husband may be able to help, after you return from Tara,” she offered.
“Several of his brothers are unwed. Although they do not have lands of their own, if it is your wish to wed one of them and stay in Ossoria, it is a possibility.”
Taryn suspected the Queen’s offer was born out of courtesy, nothing more. She knew, too well, that men judged what they saw, not the person she was. But she gave the expected response, “Perhaps.”
She did want a husband and children of her own, one day. But it was hard to let go of the hurt feelings from Lucas’s rejection. She had never forgotten the distaste in his expression when he’d viewed her scars.
“You don’t want to wed one of the MacEgan men, do you?” the Queen predicted. “I can see it in your face.”
Taryn shook her head. “Oh, it isn’t that. If they look anything like your husband, they will be handsome men.”
“Of course they are,” Isabel agreed. “And men like Trahern or Connor are beloved by all the women.”
“Which is why they would never even look at a woman like me,” Taryn reminded her.
Though she supposed it sounded like self-pity, in her mind, it was the truth.
She knew she could find a husband who wanted to rule at her side.
But she wanted more than that, and pride kept her from lowering her standards.
Isabel tucked her son into his pallet upon the floor, then turned to face her.
“The MacEgan men see beyond a woman’s appearance, Taryn.
Despite my Norman ancestry, my husband grew to love me for the woman I am.
A man who sees your true self is one worth keeping.
” She offered her a warm smile. “Why don’t you stay with us a little longer and meet them? ”
“I cannot stay for long,” she said, though the offer lifted her spirits. “I want to make sure Killian’s sister arrives safely. Then I must go on to Tara.”
The Queen’s smile widened. “Killian is a handsome warrior, isn’t he? My ladies all have their eyes upon him.” She tilted her head and asked, “But why is it that you traveled with him toward Tara and not your father’s men? Were you running away?”
The woman’s intuition was sharper than Taryn had guessed. “My mother did not want me to plead for the King’s life,” she admitted. “In truth, she forbade me to go. I came to seek your help, and Killian agreed to escort me here.”
The Queen walked toward the window, as if she was deep in thought.
Taryn waited for the woman to speak, but when Isabel remained silent, she voiced another question.
“How do you know Killian?” He had told her he was little more than a slave among the Faoilin tribe.
Why, then, would he be so familiar with the MacEgans?
“He spent several summers training with our men.” The Queen added, “The women were heartbroken to see him go.”
Strangely, there was a twinge of discontent at the thought of women offering themselves to Killian. He must have enjoyed their attentions, and truly, why should she care? Yet Taryn remembered, too well, what it was like to kiss him. It had startled her, stealing the very breath from her lungs.
“I imagine he left because of his sister, Carice,” Taryn guessed. “She’s been very ill.”
Isabel turned grave. “Then I do hope Trahern will be able to bring her here, even if it is only for a short while. We have good healers whose knowledge of herbs and medicines is unsurpassed.” The Queen hesitated a moment.
“She will be safe, so long as the High King does not know that we helped her leave.”
Taryn nodded, but her mind was more preoccupied with thoughts of Killian.
She didn’t know if he would agree to help her anymore, after she had failed to keep her bargain about Carice.
Her mother’s pursuit had made it far more difficult, and she did not doubt that Maeve would try to stop her from reaching the High King.
A few minutes later, a servant arrived with a small repast of wine, bread, roasted boar, and cheese.
Taryn sat with the Queen and ate while Isabel told her stories of her husband’s encounters with the Norman invaders.
She learned that Isabel’s marriage to Patrick had been arranged to keep the peace between the Normans and the Irish.
They had begun as enemies, but had ended up falling in love.
“An arranged betrothal can make a good marriage,” Isabel said. “If it is with the right man.”
Taryn knew what the Queen was implying, but right now, her greater concern was saving her father. “I do hope to marry one day,” she said. “But not yet.” There was too much at stake right now. Until the pieces of her life were put back together, she could not imagine another betrothal.
“I understand.” Isabel grew serious for a moment. “But if your father cannot be saved, your family will need alliances to help keep the peace in your own kingdom.”
Taryn didn’t want to even consider that possibility.
She had to believe that Devlin could come home again.
“Perhaps,” she hedged. Then she said, “I would like to speak with Killian again before I retire for the night.” She wanted to know if it was his intention to leave her behind, once Carice was safe.
Though it was likely, she rather hoped he would change his mind.
“I will send for him, if you wish,” the Queen offered. “He is staying among our soldiers.”
“I would be grateful,” Taryn said. Even so, she was wary of treating Killian like a servant, to come at her beck and call.
Already he was tense, since Carice had not arrived.
He was a man on edge, ready to do whatever was necessary to defend his sister.
She prayed that the young woman would arrive here safely.
Isabel spoke to one of the servants and then turned to Taryn. “I will leave you alone to speak with him, but if you have need of me, I won’t be far away.” Her gaze was searching, as if she sensed that there was more between them.
After the Queen left, Taryn paced across the solar. The fire burned brightly on the hearth, and she could hear the low murmur of conversation from the people around them. Laochre Castle was a bustling settlement, filled with Irish and Normans blended together.
The stone rooms were not as cold as she’d expected, for tapestries lined the walls and the hearth brought a sense of comfort to the solar.
But there was no peace within her now. She could not set aside her worries about Tara.
It would take only two or three more days to reach the High King’s fortress, and she had no idea how to convince the Ard-Righ not to execute her father.
A woman’s pleas meant nothing to the High King of éireann.
The door to the solar opened, and Killian stepped inside. From the moment he entered the room, he took command of the space. There was no deference in him, and the look in his eyes held an intensity that made her uneasy.
“I was wanting to speak with you again,” he said without any greeting at all. In one hand, he held out a wool cloak with a hood. “Put this on and walk with me.”
“We can speak here,” she said. “There is no one to overhear our conversation.”
“There are always eavesdroppers within a castle. Ewan MacEgan, for one,” he said. Then he crossed toward her and placed the cloak over her shoulders, drawing the hood over her face.
It felt as if he were trying to hide her appearance, and she felt a pang of frustration. You’re being overly sensitive, she told herself. It was midwinter and freezing outside.
Killian led her down a narrow hallway and into a room that opened onto the battlements. Outside, the wind roared against the stones, the air filled with cold sleet. She shivered within her cloak, pulling it tightly over her body.
“Is there any sign of Carice?” she asked, when they were alone.
He shook his head. “Not yet. But it’s too soon for her to be here. I trust in Trahern MacEgan—the man will bring her to Laochre as soon as he can.” His gray eyes narrowed upon her, and she had a sinking feeling deep inside.
“Our agreement has changed,” he began. With the words, a chill whispered over her skin, and she knew, without him saying a word, that he was going to leave her here.
“I thought you might say that.” She had hoped he would continue escorting her to Tara, but the look in his eyes suggested that he did not want to anymore.
“I am sorry I could not help your sister. But I could do naught to stop my mother’s men from pursuing me.
” She was only one woman, and Maeve had no intention of letting her go.
“No,” he agreed. “And they will try to stop you from reaching Tara. It is likely that they will succeed.”
She faced him, staring into his gray eyes. “You’ve given up, haven’t you? Once Carice is here, you would rather walk away from what I have to offer.”
“Not necessarily,” he countered. The coldness in his voice held a ruthless air, and she suddenly suspected that she would not like what he was about to say.