Someone who would sacrifice himself for her freedom.
The tears streamed down her face as she rode through the meadows.Mairead vowed to herself that, if he survived this, she was going to fight for Balor.
Because maybe if she did, there was a chance they could have the future that wasn’t promised.
* * *
Balor was fairly certain he was going to die.He was outnumbered by at least twelve men, and Liam MacEgan wasfar too weak to fight.But at least Mairead had escaped.He could console himself with that.
His sword clashed with theirs, the steel ringing against steel.He moved from one to the next, spinning and fighting back as he relied on his instincts and years of Norman training.
Memories of the past collided with present, and as he fought back, the years seemed to fall away.He remembered the fighter he’d been when he’d first arrived in England at Beaumont.Like Marcas, he’d been helpless at first.Unbalanced and weak—but rage had fueled his fighting.
He’d been furious at being sent away from Éireann.As far as he was concerned, he never wanted to see his family again.
But he’d kept his mother’s ring.He didn’t know why he’d ignored her demand that he deliver it to the Norman lord.It was meant to be payment for his fostering…and yet, it was the only thing he had left of Orla.
He’d always considered it a punishment to be sent away, and he’d been so angry with her.But maybe…his motherhadbeen trying to help him.He’d finally had enough food to eat and a warm place to sleep.He’d joined another group of boys, letting everyone believe he was with them.And later, the captain of the guards had allowed Balor to work in the stables and care for the horses, in return for training.
Lord Beaumont hadn’t seemed to mind.He’d allowed Balor to stay with his other foster sons.And he’d been grateful to the nobleman for the gift of instruction and learning to read and write.
When they’d begun training him, Balor had been knocked to the ground more than once, and the other boys had laughed at him.But he’d used their scorn to motivate him, to push past the resentment of his low birth to becomestronger.Month after month, he’d trained for hours each day, determined to become a warrior of strength.
And somehow, he’d caught the eye of the earl.Lord Beaumont had been dismissive of the boys at first, occasionally watching them train.But one morning, after Balor had defeated all the others, he’d glanced up at the battlements, and the earl had given him a slight nod of approval with a faint smile.
No one had ever acknowledged him like that before—as if the man was proud of him.Balor had been ashamed that a single gesture had meant so much.But from that day forward, he’d poured himself into training, learning everything he could.The others stopped laughing at him and had grudgingly given him their respect.They’d treated him as a leader, despite his desire to remain in the shadows.
Sometimes he wished he’d taken the time to befriend the other boys.But the idea of reaching out to anyone put him at the risk of being mocked.And so he’d kept to himself, embracing a life of being alone.
Even then, a few of the soldiers had offered him words of encouragement during training.He’d become stronger, the warrior he’d always wanted to be.
And he’d kept the ring until the very last day.Before he’d departed England, he’d left his mother’s silver ring upon the earl’s carved wooden table within his chambers.He didn’t really know why, but somehow it felt like he was releasing the fear he’d felt as a boy, embracing the man he’d become.Letting go of the past.
And now, as his sword grew heavy and he faced his final moments of life, regrets slid over him.He wished he’d had the chance to say farewell to Kenneth.But more than anything else, he wished he’d told Mairead what she’d meant to him.Never in his life had anyone touched him willingly,offering affection or pleasure.She didn’t even know how much he’d savoured each moment with her.
She’d said she loved him.And he hadn’t said it back when he’d had the chance, a regret he would carry with him until his last breath.It had seemed unthinkable that she could ever give her heart to him.
He wasn’t worthy of a king’s daughter.Butshewas worth dying for.
With renewed strength, Balor fought back, using his blade, his fists, and a stolen shield.He shifted the fighting away from Liam, ignoring the slash that cut through his cloak and skimmed his side.Blood flowed, but Balor paid it no heed at all.He would defend thetánaiste, for Mairead’s sake.
Yet, as the soldiers closed in on him, hope began to dim.Balor concentrated on the memory of Mairead’s smile and her kiss.He remembered her hands upon his skin and how it had felt to touch her.
Though his arms ached, he kept fighting.He’d slain several men, wounding others to keep them away from Liam.But as his strength began to wane, he heard the sounds of approaching horses.Was it the MacEgans, arriving at last?
No, it was far too soon for that.
When he saw the gleam of Norman armour and six more soldiers mounted on horseback, his spirits deflated.He defended himself from the soldier in front of him, but pain exploded in the back of his head, dropping him to his knees.Balor tasted blood in his mouth, and dizziness made the world sway while he braced himself for the killing blow.
And when the sword descended towards him, he saw nothing more.
Chapter Ten
Mairead’s spirits sank as she reached Banslieve.She’d ridden as fast as she could, but when she reached the fortress, her father’s men were already waiting inside.They must have ridden all day and night.
Patrick stood beside his brother Connor, and the moment she entered the gates, she dismounted and ran to them.
‘Mairead—’ he started to say.
