Page 68

“Yes. And so, one day—I was already seven or eight—I got whooping cough. It’s a sickness that can be prevented with vaccination. And not just me, my two-year-old sister, too. I still remember lying at night, in a fever, coughing my guts out. Wanting my mom. Realizing, she didn’t want me. She didn’t care about me. She didn’t love me.”

Like Kate knew no one would. She was unlovable, unworthy of care. Even though Ian said he loved her now, he’d come to the same conclusion. So it was good that their relationship would soon end, no matter how wonderful it was now.

“She shouldna have been yer mother. Not caring for her bairns… There’s no one more loving or caring that I ken, Katie, than ye.”

She flushed a little. “I don’t think so. I often think there’s something about me that people find cumbersome. Eventually, she realized she had to take us to a hospital. We spent a couple days there, but she took us home because she couldn’t afford to pay more medical bills. The doctors said the illness was already advanced enough that there was nothing they could do to heal it that she couldn’t do at home—steam, soup, air humidifier. She lost one job because she stayed at the hospital and at home caring for us, then had to find two more to pay the bills that she got because of us. Anyway, I know now she was doing the best she could. I took care of my sister my whole life. I know what it means to have someone depend on you for everything. Especially as a single parent with no one else to help. But still… I sometimes dream about that hospital, lying there alone. Mom isn’t there, and doctors and nurses pass me by. I cough and cough and cough, and no one can hear me or wants to see me.”

He rose from her lap and took her in his arms. “Lass…”

His arms were heavy and warm around her, like a protective shield.

Kate leaned against his chest. “See, I also have nightmares. Everyone does.”

“Aye. But nae everyone tries to kill another human being.”

She looked up at him and cupped his jaw. “It’ll pass, Ian. If only you can forgive yourself. And let yourself live. At least for now. For tonight.”

“Aye.” He kissed her briefly. “For tonight. And every night with ye.”

His face grew somber and gathered that darkness with the edge of desperation she’d seen in his most violent moments.

“But if I try to hurt ye again, I want ye to use the knife and do what I showed ye. Aye?”

Kate’s skin chilled at the thought. She’d never be able to do that.

“Promise me,” he said. “That’ll give me peace of mind.”

Kate swallowed. He looked intensely at her, waiting. If it would give him some peace of mind, she’d promise him, but she’d never go through with it.

“Okay, Ian,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

He kissed her again, deeply, hungrily, stirring desire in her blood. Oh yes, that was what they were good at—forgetting the pain of their souls through their bodies.

For tonight, they’d forget and be happy.

What tomorrow would bring, Kate didn’t want to know.

Chapter 25

Three days later…

The great hall of Dundail swarmed with people. It was dark again, the indigo of the late night outside fighting against the warm light of the candles.

But it wasn’t an easy atmosphere. The men frowned, speaking in low voices, hunched over their cups of ale and wine. The food on the tables was modest but delicious. Kate and Manning had prepared an excellent stew of vegetables and wildfowl that Ian had hunted earlier.

This wasn’t a celebratory feast.

It was a war gathering.

Tomorrow, they’d fight.

After three days of his campaigning with the fiery cross, every single one of Ian’s tenants had answered the call. Alan Ciar was among those who supported the cause the most, and he alone brought twenty-five people. The man had battle experience and sat by Ian’s side at the lord’s table.

Alan’s eyes shone brightly. “We will make the bastarts leave,” he said. “’Tis a good plan, lord.”

Ian nodded, looking around the hall. There were more people than he had hoped. Eighty men—including young’uns and older men who could still hold a sword. Ian realized this was what they must have missed. Uniting for a common cause. Doing something to protect their families and livelihood.

Ian rose from the table, noting out of the corner of his eye that one more man had joined the hall—Crazy Mary. He’d been distant and observing everything skeptically, but now he stood leaning against the wall near the entrance to the great hall. He scowled at Ian, his arms were crossed over his chest.