‘Mairead’s favourite color is yellow.And she likes walking barefoot by the sea at sunset when it’s warm outside.’
Balor paused.‘How would you know this?’
The boy smiled.‘She’s my aunt.I’ve known her all my life.’Then his gaze turned serious.‘Do you know how to use a blade?You look like you do.’
‘I do.And so does your aunt.’He wasn’t entirely certain what the boy wanted from him.
Marcas tilted his head to the side.‘If you teach me how to be a better fighter, I can take you to her when she’s alone and introduce you.’
The boy’s earnest desire to help was like a fist to his gut.Balor had never expected anything in return for the silent defence—but he couldn’t deny that a moment alone with Mairead was indeed tempting—even if it was unlikely she’d ever want to see him again.But Marcas saw his hesitation and said, ‘Or, if you don’t think I’d be any good at fighting…’
‘What about your father?’he ventured.‘Didn’t he teach you to fight?’
Marcas nodded.‘He tried, but I wasn’t any good.It would be better if you taught me in secret.’
‘I’m a stranger to you,’ Balor pointed out.‘How do you know I could even teach you?You’ve never seen me fight.’He shook his head, knowing that the MacEgans would never want a fighter like him near Marcas.‘It’s better if you let your father show you how.’
‘But if my father teaches me, then everyone watches,’ Marcas said quietly.‘And they laugh at me.I embarrass him.’
The boy’s pain echoed his own.Although Balor knew it was a terrible idea, he also couldn’t deny that the boy couldgive him an advantage.He could ask Marcas to help Kenneth gain a private audience.‘How old are you?’
‘I’ll be ten soon.’
The yearning in the boy’s voice pulled at him, and Balor let out a breath.‘Tomorrow at dawn.I’ll be near the barbican gate.If you’re not there…’
‘I will be,’ Marcas swore.With a mischievous look, he added, ‘Follow me.’
‘Now?’
The boy nodded.Balor kept his hood up to cover his face and followed the lad up a set of stone stairs towards the parapets.He walked past the guards, and the boy led him to one of the towers that overlooked the sea.
‘Wait here,’ Marcas said.‘I’m going to bring her to you.’
Before he could protest, the boy was gone.With a sigh, Balor leaned back against the stone wall.Despite the forbidden pull towards her, it wasn’t wise to see Mairead again.Or else he might start thinking about the taste of her lips that first time.After she’d reached out to him, he’d been unable to resist stealing the kiss he’d wanted.Even now, it haunted him.
Outside, the moon was beginning to rise, casting rays of amber upon the dark seas.As Balor waited, he took a step forward and glanced down at the suitors gathering below.There were far more Normans than he’d imagined.Clearly, her father was looking for a match that would please King John and raise Mairead’s rank even higher.
Or possibly they were here for another reason—to take command.Balor studied them, feeling a sudden uneasiness when he saw Fergus speaking to some of the Norman soldiers.Why would the chieftain do so?Fergus despised the Normans after what they’d done to Orla.Unless he hopedthat somehow these men would help him gain an advantage with the MacEgans?
He didn’t trust Fergus at all—and with good reason.The chieftain hated him for every breath he took and always had.The man had seemed to enjoy starving or punishing him.
Had it not been for Orla’s intervention, Balor suspected he might not have survived at Dunmalus.
He’d understood exactly what it was to be a victim.And he couldn’t help but see a glimpse of himself in the boy.
Balor hadn’t known anything about fighting, except what it was like to be on the receiving end of the fists.He’d been just a little older than Marcas when Orla had sent him away to England, after a bad beating from Fergus.
At the time, he’d felt so abandoned and lost…but in her own way, his mother had saved him.He’d been allowed to dwell among a Norman lord’s foster sons, and there, he’d learned how to fight, becoming more than the child he’d once been.
And whether or not they’d wanted him to return, he’d found the courage to travel back to Éireann, even knowing he didn’t belong among the Ó Phelans.The years had forged his will into a weapon, one that would bring down Fergus Ó Phelan and put Kenneth in his place as chieftain.
Were it not for his brother, he’d have turned his back on all of them.
‘Balor.’Mairead’s voice was breathless as she stepped into the tower, escorted by Marcas.‘I thought I saw you earlier.’The softness of her smile only heightened his awareness of her beauty.
Don’t, he warned himself.The last thing he needed was to let himself be allured by a woman he would never have.
The young boy released her hand and met his gazebriefly, reminding Balor of the promise he’d made.Then Marcas disappeared, leaving them alone.So be it.
