Yes, Ciaran thought grimly. She hadn't considered that the "hero" she'd rescued might be a lecherous cad.
Fallon fidgeted with the rose ribbon tied at the throat of her nightgown, and Ciaran had to tear his gaze away from the silky hollow of her throat.
"Reading about that reminded me of the time I fell out of a tree and landed on my head."
"Ah, so that's what happened to you," he grumbled. "No wonder you woke up seeing fairies around every corner."
"Nurse slept beside me all night, awakening me every so often to make certain I was still all right. Not that anyone could have slept, what with the way she snored." Fallon was blushing, suddenly nervous, yet determination was stroked into the line of her creamy jaw.
"You need someone to awaken you tonight. I thought that if you and I slept... well, in my bed, that I'd be able to watch over you."
Had the woman lost her mind? "Absolutely not!" Ciaran snapped, imagining all too clearly what a night beside Fallon would be like. Heaven. Hell. Her warm, sleepy body close enough to touch. Dream shadows flickering across her beautiful features. Dreams he could never have.
"You're fully dressed, Ciaran. It's not as if there's any danger of anything happening. You're the most noble knight of the Red Branch Ireland has ever known."
Ciaran winced. If she only knew the truth. No. That was the one thing Fallon must never learn. "I'll be fine in the priest hole. Just get under the coverlets, Fallon. You look tired to death."
"I am tired. That's why I thought it would be better if you were close by, so I didn't have to trek to the priest hole and back so many times."
"You don't have to take care of me any more. I'm fine."
"No, you're not." She looked so sad and wise. "And neither am I. Is it so terrible not to want to be alone for just a little while?"
What had it cost her to let him glimpse the sorrow inside her, the loneliness? This woman who was so brave, so proud, so giving?
He should stay as far away from her dreamer's eyes and her innocent body as possible. And yet, she suddenly looked so small, so fragile, reminding him of everything he'd lost somewhere on those jagged cliffs, of what he would lose the instant he went to Vanessa Fyfe's. Borrowed honor Fallon had given him, a second chance at the innocence he must have squandered long ago.
It would be for only a few hours, until he slipped away. Would it be so terrible to lie down with her for a little while?
"I'll lie with you."
She slipped between the coverlets and reached to blow out the candle.
"No," Ciaran said hastily. "Leave it." So I can use it to slip out of here the instant you're asleep. Guilt stung him. What would she think when she awoke to find him gone? How would she feel? Hurt? Betrayed? Abandoned?
He hadn't even asked why she'd summoned Ciaran of the Mist. That in itself should be proof enough that he was no hero. For an instant, the question hovered on his lips, but he silenced it. No. What could he do to help her anyway? He couldn't even help himself. And knowing what troubled her could only make it harder to leave.
He lay down beside her, making certain a hand's width divided them, determined not to so much as brush her with the tip of a finger.
"Fallon, I... I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. It's a rare woman who would take in an injured stranger, especially one as surly as I've been."
"It's the least I could do. I mean, I'm responsible for bringing you here. You belong to me in a way."
Belong. Why did that word unleash such a hunger in him? Had he ever belonged anywhere? To anyone? The only thing he was certain of was that he could never belong to the woman gazing up at him with the light of angels in her eyes.
"You deserve a Ciaran of the Mist. I wish I—" he stopped. Damn, there was so much he'd never be able to tell her, and yet he couldn't walk away without knowing she was safe. "You must have summoned this Ciaran for some purpose. You're not in danger, are you? In trouble?"
"No. You could never be called for such a paltry reason. But of course, when you get your memory back, you'll remember that. Your magic is meant for a greater use than just one person's problems."
Relief swept through Ciaran. Whatever was wrong, it wasn't some personal threat to her. She was safe enough, wasn't she?
Fallon smiled, and Ciaran felt it like a lance to the heart. "When Mama gave me the brooch, she made me promise not to summon you to, shall we say, help slip toads into tea cakes. Calling you back isn't without its dangers. If my cause is not deemed worthy, I will have broken my trust, wasted a chance that won't come again for three hundred years. But worst of all, the fairies will be angry, and exact their revenge."
Fairies again. And the woman simply glowed with earnestness. Damn if she couldn't almost make him believe... No. He didn't believe in anything so incredible. And yet, there was no question that Mary Fallon Delaney believed everything she'd told him. The fairies and curses and enchanted cherries were as real to her as the pert, freckle-spangled nose on her earnest face.
He couldn't stop himself from probing deeper. "If it's so dangerous, and if you aren't in danger, then why—"
"Why did I call you back? We've fought countless revolutions in Ireland. We've been trying to keep up our courage, our hope. And somehow, no matter what the English did to subdue us, we've managed to do so. But if Redmayne has his way, I'm not certain we will still be able to. Redmayne has devised the most fiendish scheme of all, one that just might destroy the very soul, the will to fight, that we've clung to no matter what the English tried to do to crush us."
