When the carriage rolled out, and the ship captain gave his word that he’d respond to any official request to appear and give testimony, Niall agreed they could go before they missed the tide. The captain lost no time in hollering orders to his chastened crew to get moving and cast off.
Then Niall turned, walking back to Heather. She was shivering slightly, probably from the aftermath of the events rather than any cold. He adjusted the shawl around her shoulders, but said only, “We’re going back to Carregness. And there you’ll stay.”
Chapter 23
The ride back to Carregnesswas agony. Niall pulled Heather up onto his horse in front of him. It was just like the first day they’d met…except this time, Heather could sense a darkness radiating from Niall. He was furious, and she was the cause.
But she still clung to him. Not just to avoid falling off, but because she didn’t have the words for how she felt. The only way she could convey how much she needed to be near him was to…be near him, wrapping her arms around him, getting as close as possible while he rode.
However, there was no softening of his stance along the way. He said nothing to ease her mind, and Heather realized he must be done with her. He’d got her back from Webb as a matter of honor. But there was no hint of tenderness now. She’d lost him.
Shouldn’t she want that? Life would be less complicated if there was no emotional connection between them.
At Carregness, Maeve must have been alerted to their arrival, because she stood on the steps of the keep when Niall rode up.
He helped Heather down from the horse, but didn’t dismount himself. “Get her cleaned up and fed,” he said abruptly, as if she were a lost dog he found on the road.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Maeve asked, confused.
“I have other business.” Niall wheeled about and rode back out the gate. Heather felt the distance stretching between them, but couldn’t call him back.
Maeve was kindness itself, taking Heather upstairs and fussing over her. At Maeve’s direction, she took a hot bath and was dressed in a warm wool gown, Maeve getting the whole story of the day’s events from Heather in the process. By that time, she’d stopped shivering, though she was still miserable. Maeve insisted she eat something, so Heather tolerated a little broth and tea, mostly to make Maeve stop hovering. All of Heather’s protests that she really was fine did very little to convince Maeve that she was, in fact, fine.
Momentarily alone in her room, Heather lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, wondering where she’d be in a week. Not here, probably.
There was a knock at the door.
“No thank you, Maeve!” she called out, not bothering to open her eyes.
The knock came again.
Heather sighed, but got up to open the door. “Really, Maeve, you needn’t…” She stopped there. It wasn’t Maeve.
Niall stood outside her door, one hand on the frame, his bulk blocking everything else out. Niall, who kept appearing when she needed him most. Niall, who was as trapped as she was in some way. Niall, who she wanted to meet all over again, so she didn’t make the same mistakes.
“May I come in?” he asked.
She stepped back to let him move past her. Maybe she could tell him now, tell him all the things in her heart before she lost her nerve.
Then, he closed the door behind him, and Heather’s hackles went up. He was going to yell at her.
“Whatever you’re about to say, I’m not going to listen to it. I’ve had quite enough of being berated and belittled—”
Something in his eyes caused her next words to die in her throat. Something haunted. He said, “All I can see is you on the deck of that ship, about to sail away. If I’d been three minutes later, you’d have been gone.”
“Well, you got me back,” she mumbled, not mentioning that when he arrived at the ship, her heart almost burst.
“But I’ve never had you, have I?” said Niall, the look in his eyes turning her heart inside out. “It’s been an arrangement from the beginning, one I’ve got all tangled up, but you never did, did you? You just did what you needed to do to keep what freedom you had.”
“What? No. Niall, it wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it?”
She reached up and put her hands on his chest, willing him to believe her. “No. It was like this.”
Heather tangled her fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. With her teeth, she tugged at his lower lip. For a moment, he didn’t react at all, and she wanted to die.
Then, all at once, his arms went around her waist, picking her up effortlessly. He walked her to the bed, laying her back on it. He leaned over her, undoing the buttons at the back and pulling at the wide sash that kept the gown tight to her chest. He tugged the loosened gown away from her body, and Heather inhaled as he watched her, his gaze hot as a branding iron.
