Page 109 of Irish Betrayal

As the group spilled out the front of the manor, Blair saw Ciar give Gray a look and then one to Daniel. Dagr, Bébhinn, Jonathan, and Mags rode together and were already driving away.

Her attention was diverted to Ciar, who tapped her forearm. “I need to speak to you,” he signed. “Privately.”

Blair didn’t know why, but her stomach sank. She glanced first at Gray, who was pretending great interest in the roses Blair had planted last week that looked like nothing more than brownish green, prickly canes.

Daniel met her eyes and nodded to go with Ciar. This had something to do with Peter; Blair knew it, nausea already flooding her mouth with saliva.

Daniel took Gray’s arm and led her toward the path to the nearest greenhouse, while Ciar led them to a shaded bench beneath a canopy of interwoven trees.

“I need to tell you something,” Ciar said, rubbing his hands nervously over his pant legs. “Something that no one in our group knows except for Gray. I would like to keep it that way.”

Ciar didn’t get nervous, which made Blair more so, but she replied “Of course,” immediately.

Blair knew all about secrets.

“Okay, then,” was all he said as they sat in silence for another minute.

“I was four the first time my mother sold me to men for drug money. I was eight the last time.”

All oxygen left her body. “No,” she huffed, touching Ciar’s arm. Her throat felt constricted, emotion spilling from her eyes. “No, Ciar.”

“Yes. My mom…” he swallowed deeply before continuing, “drugs changed her. She prostituted herself. And me.

“I was hurt countless times until Dad took me in. So many,” he shook his head, “so many times. She loved drugs more than anything, certainly more than me.”

“Did you,” Blair started tentatively, “have anyone to turn to? Your aunt Alya?”

“She rarely visited. I saw her at Mom’s funeral, but it had been at least a year and a half before that.”

“Did she know?” she signed, too emotional to try and speak.

“No. She would have taken me from Mom if she had, no matter that Alya was ten years younger than her sister.”

“Then?” Blair raised her hands in question.

“Why didn’t I tell her?” She nodded yes. “I knew what was happening wasn’t right, but I was afraid—afraid that if I told and Mom found out, the men might hurt me worse. I was young,” he said, shrugging.

“I was ashamed. I’ve been ashamed of my past until Gray.”

Blair reared back on the bench. “Ashamed? You were a child, Ciar. A child!” she cried.

“I was. The shame was my mother’s, and the men who abused me. I guess, Blair, the reason I’m trusting you with my past is that I see that you are ashamed.”

She was about to deny the accusation when Ciar held up a hand. “You can barely meet my eyes, Blair, or anyone else’s. Did you think we didn’t notice? Besides your parents and Daniel, who loves you more than your friends?

“I may not want everyone to know about my past, but I sure as hell don’t think I’m less than because of it. Not anymore.”

“You aren’t less than,” she replied hotly, using her fists to wipe at her tears.

“Are you less than?”

Blair felt the question land like a slap, jarring her reality. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t find the words. She raised her hands before letting them fall back down.

“Answer me. Are you less than because of what that man did to you?”

“I didn’t tell, and it cost a woman her life.” That wasn’t all of it; past the shame of her grooming, it had been what had happened at the apartment in Tulsa where she’d been held that woke her night after night.

The darkest moment for her was screaming and hearing nothing. Was she screaming? Was she fighting? Or was her silence a partner to her own destruction? Had her silence, her secrets, been the glue that had kept her by Peter’s side?