“I’m certain Siobhán has had me cast under some sort of spell,” he went on, as honest with Shannon now as she had been with their people earlier, “because of how I started feeling toward her the moment I laid eyes on you in New Hampshire.”
He joined her at the window and handed her one of two cups of ale that had been left for them, along with a variety of foods to snack on if they grew hungry.
“Since then,” he continued, “this obsession I’ve had for Siobhán has waned quickly.” He shook his head. “Too quickly for it to have been all that substantial from the start.”
“One could argue it hadn’t been substantial anyway, considering the amount of women it’s rumored you’ve had since,” she said dryly but didn’t seem too put off by it. Her gaze lingered on his face. “And I can’t help but wonder why it doesn’t upset me more when I grow more and more certain we were close in this life too.” She took a sip of ale and frowned. “Why would you have done that?”
“Mayhap not to get over Siobhán as I thought, but someone else I forgot to remember?” he theorized, giving her a pointed look. “I could ask the same of you.” Not for the first time, jealousy simmered beneath the surface when he thought of her loving another, and he confessed something that shocked even him. “I have never been in love with another. Even Siobhán. It seemed...” Too much? Constricting? “Wrong somehow.”
He didn’t miss the flicker of fear in her eyes. A surge of emotion she pressed deep down before he could understand it better.
“His name was Gavin.” Shannon sighed and gazed out the window. “I met him at work when he brought in his sick dog. We just sort of clicked, I guess.” She shook her head. “I should have never gotten involved with him, but he was persistent...and attractive and charming.” She looked skyward. “His accent didn’t hurt any either.”
“’Tis ironic, is it not?” He knew Gavin had been Irish and wondered at that. “Especially if you and I had shared something here when we were younger.”
“Itisironic.” Her eyebrows pinched when she looked at him. “You don’t think it was on purpose somehow, do you? He was a modern-day guy, so how could it be?”
“’Tis impossible to know when magic’s involved.” He frowned. “When someone like Siobhán is involved.” While he hesitated to ask, it was best they share all at this point because he suspected Gavin was too coincidental. “What ended up happening betwixt you two? How did he break your heart?”
He felt that same surge of emotion she had repressed before, only stronger this time. As though it struggled to get to the surface so he could see it. Understand it.
“It doesn’t matter.” She tore her gaze from his, white-knuckled the sill, and stared out over the sea. “Not anymore.”
He swore she stopped breathing. As though she suddenly realized just how much itdidmatter.Couldmatter going forward. She put a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes as though feeling ill.
As if the weight of what she was about to tell him was that awful.
“What is it,mo leath eile?” he asked, using the endearment as easily as he had moments before she drew in a breath after drowning.
“You’ve called me that before.” Shannon’s wary gaze drifted to his face. Her voice dropped an octave. “It brought me back to you.”
“It did.” He set aside his drink and cupped her cheek, needing to touch her. Understand the heartache he felt rising in her. The reason she and Gavin were no more. Why she feared love so much now. “What happened, Shannon? What—”
“I can’t,” she blurted out and blinked back tears.
“Can’t what?” he urged when she seemed stunned by her own admission. When she almost seemed startled she had put words to it.
“Have children,” she managed weakly. She pressed her lips together, shook her head, and spoke telepathically when it seemed she couldn’t form words. “I’m sorry.”
He might have expected her to say a lot of things but not that. Never that. It didn’t seem fair. Especially not for her, and he wasn’t sure why he felt that so strongly.
When she went to turn her cheek away, he didn’t let her. Refused to see her look ashamed. “’Tis all right, lass.” He wiped away a tear when it fell. “’Tis nothing ye should feel sorry for.”
“Isn’t it?” Another tear fell. “Gavin certainly thought so, and I can’t blame him. What guy wants to be with—”
“I do,” he said without hesitation, no longer envious of a perfect stranger but furious at him. “As would many others, for ‘tis no fault of yours.”
He didn’t need to know what had happened. Why she could not. All that mattered was she didn’t think less of herself for it.
“’Tis all right.” He pulled her into his arms and rested her cheek against his chest when more tears fell. Tears he realized she’d never allowed herself to shed. Barely allowed herself to feel.
Not until recently, in her tent back in New Hampshire.
Shannon said nothing for a time. She merely wept quietly before she eventually pulled away, offered him a look of thanks for comforting her, and gazed at the sea again. Relished the cool wind on her face.
“We both know this isn’t all right,” she said softly but bluntly. “Not in this day and age. Not considering you need to produce an heir.” Her eyes met his again. “With a wife, at that, so they can inherit your throne...assuming there’s a throne to inherit when this is all said and done.”
“Strangely, taking a wife has never been a driving goal for me.” He was never as serious as he was at that moment. Nothing had ever felt so right. “Not until now.” He shrugged, truthful. “As to my throne, who might inherit it never bothered me.” He shook his head, somewhat baffled, looking back. “If anything, I took strides to keep my seed out of trouble.”
