Shivers erupted over her skin, and she tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart. Never before had any man come so close to her, and she could feel the hard planes of his body behind her.
“It will be dangerous at Tara.”
She told herself to step forward, out of his hold. And yet, her feet stubbornly refused to move. A reckless side to her imagined what it would be like if he pressed her back against the wall and claimed a kiss.
He turned her in the darkness, keeping her hand in his. Against her palm, she felt the calloused skin of a swordsman. “It will be, aye.”
“And you’ve said that you will not help me,” she reminded him, “unless there is something else you want that I can grant.”
The moment she spoke the words, she regretted them. It sounded as if she were offering herself as the prize.
His hand moved through her hair, his thumb skimming the ridged scars upon her cheek. The touch only reminded her that she was a woman no man would ever want. He didn’t have to speak a single word for her to know the answer.
Abruptly he opened the door, and light speared her eyes from the hall. “Stay with my sister for the rest of the night. I will tell Brodie that you are here.”
He made no promises, and she could not imagine what he was thinking right now. A strange ache caught within her, knowing that she was utterly alone in wanting to save her father.
Taryn closed her eyes against the light in the hall, pushing back the hurt feelings before she emerged. She knew she should do as Killian had ordered, returning to share the chamber with his sister. And yet, she did not want to be brushed aside so soon.
She tiptoed down the stairs, hiding herself against the curve of the wall so that she had a view of the Great Chamber. From here, no one would see her. The chieftain was seated at a long table, upon a dais, surrounded by other men. The High King’s soldiers were dining at the lower tables, tossing bones to the dogs, and drinking ale.
Killian walked toward the chieftain, striding past the men as if he ruled over all of them. But Brodie Faoilin looked displeased to see him. The chieftain motioned for one of his guards to come forward, and he spoke quietly to the man.
Killian stared at Brodie, waiting for his chance to speak. But instead of agreeing to an audience, the soldier approached and ordered him to leave. It was clear that the chieftain had no intention of acknowledging afuidir.
Taryn was startled to realize it. Why? What harm was there in speaking to the chieftain? Though it was true that Killian lacked full membership in the tribe, due to his low status, surely Brodie would allow him a voice.
Killian didn’t move at all, but folded his arms and held his ground in his own defiance. Fury darkened the chieftain’s face, and he stood. The first soldier seized Killian, shoving him against one of the benches. But instead of losing his balance, Killian moved with swift reflexes and flipped the man over,tossing him across the table. Food and drink went flying onto the floor. A moment later, he stood before the chieftain, a faint smile upon his face as if to say,You cannot force me to go.
The violent hatred in the chieftain’s eyes stunned her. He looked as if he wanted Killian to be beaten bloody and left to die. Within seconds, other soldiers joined in on the fighting, trying to force him out. Even the High King’s men stood from their benches, surrounding Killian. All, save two men, whose expressions held anger and displeasure at the disturbance.
Instead of surrendering, Killian remained in place. A moment later, he was no longer standing there. Never in her life had she seen any man move so fast. A fist swung toward his jaw, but he dodged the blow and it collided with another man’s face.
He was indeed like a shadow, here for a fleeting second, and gone the next.
The drunken men continued to fight, but Killian somehow managed to move away from them. When anyone tried to hit him, he spun and shoved them off balance. It soon became clear that he was defending himself, not provoking more fighting. But when one soldier’s fist connected with Killian’s jaw, it turned violent. Killian struck back, beating the man bloody, until his opponent backed off. It was an unmistakable silent message sent to the others. At last, he threw a dark glower at Brodie and strode toward the back of the hall, as if he didn’t want to waste words on the chieftain.
Taryn hurried from her hiding place and followed him outside. The rain had stopped, but the air was moist and smelled of damp earth. Within the inner bailey, she glimpsed her guard, Pól, and sent him a nod, thankful that he’d made it safely inside. She raised her hand in recognition, intending to speak with him later.
Killian continued toward the stables, and she hurried to keep up with him. Her footing slipped a time or two, but eventually she reached the outer door.
For a moment, Taryn rested her hand upon the outbuilding, taking the time to push back the unreasonable fears. The horses would be enclosed within the stalls, she told herself. If she kept her distance, no harm would come to her. Though it was foolish to be afraid of horses, a darker memory lingered on the edges of awareness.
It was your fault that Christopher died, came the voice of her conscience. She closed her eyes, wanting so badly to push back the grief. But against her will, she saw her brother’s lifeless body in her vision, her heart still hurting for the loss.
She’d been a young girl, only four years old. Christopher was twelve and was home from his fostering, visiting for Yuletide. She’d idolized him and had followed him around everywhere, wanting so badly to be near him. Her brother had an easy smile and he’d never seemed to mind her attention. Sometimes he would swing her up on his shoulders, letting her feel as tall as a grown woman.
Sweet Jesu, she had loved him.
But one morning, she had run through the courtyard, eager to bid him farewell before he went off hunting with their father. She hadn’t paid any heed to where she was going, and Christopher’s horse had reared up without warning, throwing him off. Her brother’s head had struck a stone, and he had never awakened again. The bitter guilt had remained with her all these years, for it had been her fault.
Taryn took a tentative step inside the stable and was relieved to see that all of the animals remained still and quiet with only an occasional nicker. Killian stood on the far end, resting both palms against a stall. Tension lined his shoulders, and she suddenly questioned her decision to follow him.
“You were supposed to stay with Carice,” he told her.
In his voice, she sensed the caged frustration. But even so, she wanted to understand what had happened in the Great Chamber. “Why did the chieftain refuse to let you speak?”
He didn’t turn around, and his knuckles tightened against the wood. “Brodie wishes that I had never been born. He’s hated me since I took my first breath.”
