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Her annoyance erupted into full-fledged anger. And she blurted the first thought that popped into her head. “You’re safe from any unwanted overtures. I promise not to push my odious presence on you again.”
“Your odious . . .” He gave a bark of grim laughter. “Is that what you think?”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“That I’m not a lust-crazed scoundrel who’d ruin your future for my own pleasure?”
He sank into a chair across from her, and she noted the tired lines dragging at his features, a strain pulling at his body and his emotions. He drew close to breaking.
He rubbed at his left forearm as if scrubbing away a stain. “Sabrina, I don’t know how or why, but you’re the woman I see when I close my eyes. I know your scent. I recall the sparkle of your smile, the way your body feels as it moves beneath me. And the way mine feels when I take you. Flashes of an impossible life with you fill my head. I can’t stop them. I don’t want to. But it’s just that—impossible. I won’t let you throw yourself away on me. Not when your future still lies before you.”
She swallowed around the knot choking off her breathing. He dreamt these things. As had she. They were as much a part of her memories now as his. Perhaps that’s why it had been so easy to let her desires overpower her sense. He was no stranger. He’d already been lover, husband, and friend. Impossible, he’d said. And she knew it. But it didn’t make the memories of that life she’d glimpsed any less powerful.
“He hasn’t come right out and said it, but my brother wants to marry me off.”
His body barely flinched before he answered smoothly, “You’ll make someone a very lucky man.” A corner of his mouth tipped in a rueful smile. “But it won’t be me.”
She hardened her heart. “It won’t be anyone. I don’t want to marry. Ever.”
“That would be a shame. You have much love to offer.”
She had no answer and couldn’t speak anyway.
He pulled himself to his feet. “I came to ask one thing, and then I’ll leave.” He paused, his jaw hardening. “Your brother Brendan—have you heard from him since you arrived in Dublin?”
She caught back a breath. Her hand falling unconsciously over her apron pocket. Did Brendan’s return and Daigh’s arrival fit together somehow? Could her brother be preparing to create his own Domnuathi? No, she wouldn’t believe it. He could never initiate such madness and misery.
“If I’m going to stop Máelodor and St. John, I need to find him, Sabrina. Soon.”
“You think he’s part of all this?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. It’s Máelodor I want. I think Brendan can aid me.”
Seven years and her family still sought to drag her back into its destructive orbit. Suck her into the tragedy and the heartbreak and the agony she thought she’d put behind her when she entered the order.
Would she ever be free of her father’s sins? Her brother’s crimes? The long shadow that still seemed to hover above them all?
“Have you had word from him?” Daigh prodded. “Anything.”
Her hand dug into her pocket. Crushed the note, the edges of the paper biting into her fingers. Brendan was alive. He’d come home. But was he any safer than he’d ever been? The Amhas-draoi still hunted him. So now did Máelodor and Gervase St. John if Daigh spoke truth. Would revealing what she knew help or hinder? Not that she knew much more than she ever had. Except that he’d be back. Hopefully bearing explanations.
Daigh’s intensity charged the air. Crackled over her skin. Sparked against her mind with dread and anger and fear and shame.
Should she? Shouldn’t she? She closed her eyes, sending up a prayer for guidance.
The front door opened and shut.
“Sabrina, darling! We’re home!”
The gods—and Aunt Delia—had spoken.
Lord and Lady Kilronan arrived in the middle of the night. Sabrina had vague recollections of voices and steps in the hall, orders being given, and harried servants to-ing and fro-ing. She’d ignored it all by shoving a pillow over her head and burrowing deeper into her bedclothes.
This morning she could no longer ignore it. She’d been dressed, styled, and prepared for sacrifice by her lady’s maid, who seemed to think His Lordship’s marriage had been oh-so-romantic. A grand passion just like that Romeo and Juliet couple.
She decided to forego informing the poor, deluded woman how that relationship had ended, and rose from her dressing table with the grim smile of the condemned.
Aidan was happy. That was Sabrina’s first startled sense, peeking around the drawing room door. Not beaming and goofy grinning happy, but a quiet satisfaction that eased his usually stern features and softened the intense light in his gold brown eyes.
