“I must,” she argued. “Surely, he is not a heartless man.”
Aye, but he was. Rory Ó Connor was merciless to his enemies and had gained his position as High King because of his ruthless nature. Killian didn’t want Taryn endangering herself by the misguided belief that he would listen to a woman’s pleas.
“You cannot let him see you,” he commanded. “It is far too dangerous.”
“I’ve come this far. I don’t want to turn away because of cowardice.” She faced him, and her demeanor held a stubbornness that he hadn’t expected.
“You don’t know the King and what he will do.” How could she believe she could reason with a man who had ordered her father’s execution?
“Neither do you,” she pointed out. “And that is why we will keep on with this journey and meet our enemy face-to-face.”
Killian let go of her hand, keeping his horse alongside hers. “This is a mistake, Taryn. He will not heed your wishes.”
“We won’t know that, unless we ask.”
Somehow, Taryn endured the journey northeast. The hours on horseback had been exhausting, and after she dismounted, it was as if the ground were still moving beneath her feet. Killian had set up a tent for her, and there were several fires outside. Though he was keeping his distance, she noticed that he had brought hot stones inside the tent to warm the space. There was also a pile of furs for sleeping, as well as a flask of wine and food he’d set aside.
Though she supposed he’d carried out the duties of a servant, it felt more personal than that. And that was her own fault.
Never should she have allowed him to kiss her or touch her so intimately. Last night, her defenses had crumbled likesand against the onslaught of the feelings he’d conjured. She supposed it was her own vanity. The physical touches had made her ache inside, awakening dormant feelings of longing. And though it was likely that Killian wanted only her kingdom, for a moment, she’d wished that he wanted her. The rest of the world had slipped away, and she’d surrendered to the mindless feelings of desire.
As she ate, she wondered if he was dining among the other men. Would he share a tent with the other guards, or was he expected to sleep outside? The night air was bitterly cold, and she was grateful for the heat within the tent.
Inside, she felt restless, not knowing what the next few days would bring. All day, Killian had remained at her side in silent support. Although she was still frightened of horses, she was thankful that she’d managed to get through the day without being thrown off.
He didn’t want her to face the High King, and likely would be even more insistent as they neared Tara. But somehow, she wanted to believe that Rory could be merciful.
There was a faint rustling outside her tent, and she saw Killian sitting in front of the opening. She went to pull back the flap and asked, “Was there something you needed?”
He glanced at her and shook his head. “I’ll stay outside your tent to keep watch over you.” Without waiting for her to agree, he pulled a hood over him and turned his back.
Was he intending to sleep outside, in the cold? She didn’t like that at all.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “You may sleep with the other men and there is no need to worry about me.”
“There is always reason to worry about the safety of a woman in a camp of soldiers,” he said. “And while most of the MacEgan men are honorable, I cannot speak for all of them.”
She didn’t want to think of him sleeping outside with no shelter. But it didn’t seem that he would listen to reason. He was a proud, stubborn man who would suffer outside in a winter storm before he would leave her unguarded.
“Come inside for a moment,” she told him.
He obeyed and entered the tent, closing the flap behind him to keep the heat inside. “What is it?”
“Sit down,” she told him. Killian’s gaze moved around the small space, but he obeyed. When he was seated near to the hot stones, she sat across from him. “That’s better.”
“Well?” he prompted.
“I didn’t want you to be outside,” she admitted. “You went to the trouble to get hot stones for me, so I thought you should warm yourself.”
He didn’t look at all pleased by her invitation. Instead, he tried to stand up again. The space within the tent was too small and his head brushed the ceiling. “It will only make it that much colder when I leave, Taryn.”
Her heart began to pound, but she blurted out, “You don’t have to sleep outside.” Her words came out as a whisper, and she didn’t know where she’d found the courage to voice them. Color rose to her cheeks, and she clenched her hands together. It was meant as a kindness, though she knew how it must sound.
His expression narrowed, and he moved down on one knee until he was facing her. “What are you asking, Lady Taryn?”
She took a deep breath. “I am asking you not to remain in the ice and cold. I would not rest well, knowing that you faced such discomfort.”
“I am a soldier and little more than a slave,” he answered quietly. “I am used to sleeping outside.”
