Читать книгу Warrior of Ice - Michelle Willingham - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Killian awakened in a pile of straw with three dogs sleeping near him and Harold’s furry face nudging his. It was so cold, he could see a layer of ice upon the water trough. He stretched, feeling stiff and sore from the sleepless night, while the cat rubbed against his side.

Taryn’s threat, to reveal everything to the High King’s men, had infuriated him. For whether or not he wanted to admit it, he did need her assistance. One of the MacEgans might help Carice to escape, but without Taryn to disguise herself and buy a few more hours of time, the soldiers would pursue his sister.

What the Lady wanted in return was far too great a price. He had no desire to get entangled with her father’s fate, nor did he want to lay eyes upon Rory Ó Connor. He remembered all too well what had happened when Brian had returned from Connacht, fifteen years ago.

The chieftain had stared at him with loathing. ‘Come here, boy.’

Killian had obeyed, keeping his back straight. He’d hardly slept last night, dreaming that he would be sent to live at Connacht with the King. He imagined a life where he had a pallet to sleep upon instead of a pile of straw in the stables. Would he finally go to live with his true father? Would Rory be proud of him? He was six years old, and he was growing stronger each day. He might be one of the finest warriors in Éireann one day, if he worked hard.

‘He doesn’t want you,’ Brian said. ‘He has sired over a dozen bastards, and he doesn’t want another.’ The chieftain spat at his feet. ‘That’s all you’re worth to him.’

A coldness seized up in his chest, the hope shattering. He’d wanted so badly to live with someone who wanted him, now that his mother was dead. He twisted the silver ring on his thumb, so afraid of what would happen now.

‘Did...did you see him?’ Mayhap there had been a mistake.

‘No,’ Brian answered. ‘He was organising a raid on Munster.’

‘Then it might have been a mistake.’ Killian brightened at that. If his father was waging war on Munster, he might not want a son right now. But later...

‘There was no mistake.’ Brian sent him a scathing look. ‘His men gave him the message, but Rory offered nothing at all for you. Were I not a merciful man, I’d turn you out.’ He crossed his arms and regarded Killian. ‘As it is, I will let you live in the stables and tend the horses. Unless you’d rather go out on your own?’

* * *

Killian had been too frightened to understand any of what had happened, but he’d obeyed. At least at Carrickmeath, he had food and shelter. It was better than starving to death, and he’d been too young to survive alone.

But now, he would have his freedom. Once he saw Carice to safety.

The wolfhound beside him stretched and trotted over to him, resting his head upon Killian’s knee. He rubbed the dog’s ears, still thinking about Lady Taryn. She had silver and wealth beyond his dreams—but what he truly wanted was land and kinsmen who would look upon him with respect. And that was something that could never be bought—it had to be earned.

The voice of temptation lured him closer, reminding him that Taryn could grant him everything he wanted. All he had to do was risk his life for her father.

Likely the man was already dead. The High King resented the other provincial kings, particularly those who did not revere him. Though Killian didn’t know what Devlin’s crimes were, the odds of saving him were nearly impossible.

The dilemma weighed down upon him, for in a matter of hours, everything had changed. He would protect Carice, aye. But beyond that, once she was safe? What then?

Taryn’s words dug into his pride. Will you return here and live among men who treat you like the dirt they walk upon?

That was what bothered him most. Never had he been given the chance to fight for the life he wanted. This woman held the power to change everything—all he had to do was risk his life for a stranger.

He didn’t know what to think of this turn of events. Nor did he know what to think of Taryn Connelly. She was acutely conscious of her scarred face, but she was not a woman to hide herself away from the world. She’d faced him down, fighting for the life of the father she loved. Just as he was fighting for Carice.

They were more alike than he’d wanted to admit.

When he’d lost his temper and had pressed her back against the wall, he’d never expected the sudden interest that had flared up within him. He’d meant to intimidate her, to make her understand that he would allow no one to threaten his sister. Instead, he’d been fully aware of the lines of her body and the softness that had pressed back against him.

Her eyes had widened, as if she didn’t know what to do. He’d expected her to pull back in revulsion, but instead, she’d studied him as if she could see past his anger. As if she saw the man he wanted to be instead of the man he was. Never had any woman looked at him in that way. Most wanted a hasty tumble in the dark, but nothing more than that.

The wolfhound placed his paw upon Killian’s knee, offering despondent eyes. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted to the dog. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have given in to my temper.’ The wolfhound nuzzled his hand, and Killian stood. All three hounds stared up at him as if he was their lord and master.

‘King of the dogs, that’s what I am.’ He shook his head in exasperation and left the stable with a trail of animals following behind him. Even Harold joined them, for the cat seemed to believe Killian was his owner. When he drew closer to the donjon, there were a few smirks from his kinsmen, but he ignored them.

When he reached the entrance leading to the Great Chamber, he saw the Lady Taryn descending the stairs. She was dressed in a green silk gown, with jewelled rings upon her hands and a silver torque at her throat. A veil covered her hair and shielded most of her scars from view.

When she saw him, she stopped at the foot of the stairs and waited. Killian knew she expected him to approach, but he stopped where he was and watched her. Her eyes were a frosty blue as she regarded him.

One of the wolfhounds moved forward and began sniffing at her skirts. Taryn paled and moved backwards up the stairs, trying to get away.

He was convinced that her scars had been the result of an animal attack. With a whistle, he called back the wolfhounds and ordered them to go.

‘The dogs won’t harm you,’ he said, standing at the foot of the stairs.

She nodded but appeared unconvinced. ‘I wanted to speak to you before I meet with the chieftain.’ Keeping her eye on the retreating wolfhounds, she remained in place and asked, ‘What have you decided? Am I to travel with Lady Carice, or should I seek help elsewhere?’

He ought to let her go, for this wasn’t his fight. There were other ways to help his sister escape, even if Taryn did reveal the truth to the High King’s men.

‘You are waging a battle you cannot win,’ he told her. The moment she set foot within the High King’s holdings, she risked her own safety. If she freed her father and was caught, King Rory would hold her responsible. If she didn’t, she would watch him die. And no matter whom she hired to do her bidding, she would face the consequences from the High King.

‘He is my father,’ she said quietly. ‘If your sister were imprisoned, you would do the same for her.’

Her blue eyes stared into his with finality. She did understand the risks, then. But it didn’t seem that she cared.

‘Go with my sister,’ he said at last. ‘And we will talk later about your father.’ He would make no promises beyond that.

In her expression, he saw the relief. ‘Thank you. If you have need of my guard, Pól, he is loyal to me and can be trusted.’

Her offer was a welcome one, for he needed to ensure that the MacEgans were aware of the change in plans. He had intended to travel to Laochre on his own to seek help, though he hadn’t wanted to leave Carice behind at the hands of these soldiers. Now there was an alternative.

If her guard alerted the MacEgans, Killian could keep a close watch over Carice. ‘We will send your man to Laochre this morning,’ he said. ‘I will see to it that he has a horse. But when you dine with Brian, you must convince him to let me accompany you,’ he said. The chieftain didn’t want him anywhere near Carice, and it would be difficult to gain his permission. ‘And you cannot let the King’s men know who you are.’

‘Leave that to me,’ she agreed. ‘Give Pól your message, and I will handle Brian Faoilin and the others.’ There was such confidence in her voice, he could almost believe her.

She paused. ‘And if you decide to help my father, know that I will grant anything you desire. His life is worth whatever price I must pay.’

The urge to accept her challenge was tempting. But he could not let the desire for land cloud his judgement.

‘If I did try to free him, what makes you believe I will succeed?’ he prompted. ‘Both of us could die in the attempt.’ He wanted her to fully understand how difficult this task was.

‘I have seen you fight.’ She raised her chin and added, ‘And you are not a man who gives up. The only question is whether you are willing to risk your life for the reward I am offering.’

* * *

After Taryn’s guard departed with detailed instructions about who to speak with at Laochre Castle, Killian slipped inside the donjon, heading for the spiral stairs. He wanted to see Carice this morn, to determine if she was well enough for the journey.

He crossed through the back of the Great Chamber and saw Taryn breaking her fast with the chieftain. Her eyes narrowed upon him, and she gave him a nod before she bent to Brian and spoke again. It was clear that she was talking about him, for her gaze passed over him once more. The distaste on Brian’s face was evident, but he motioned for Seorse to come forward.

Killian didn’t doubt that they were going to throw him out again, so he began walking up the staircase. But before he could reach the upper floor leading to his sister’s chamber, Seorse called out to him, ‘Killian, wait.’

Though he suspected he wouldn’t like hearing this, he paused until his friend reached the top of the stairs. Seorse tossed over a scrap of bread and said, ‘He wants to speak to you.’

There was no question that ‘he’ meant the chieftain. Killian wondered whether Taryn had succeeded in convincing Brian to allow him to come along with them. He tore off a piece of bread and ate it. ‘What does he want?’

Seorse shrugged. ‘I can’t be saying. But whatever the reason, you’d best go now.’

With reluctance, Killian returned down the stairway, finishing the remainder of the bread. No one paid him any heed as he approached the dais, feeling uneasy about the audience. Had Lady Taryn reached an agreement with the chieftain?

He crossed past the rows of tables, well aware of all the eyes upon him. Several of the men glared at him, particularly those with bruises and swollen jaws from the fight last night. The High King’s men were not among them, and he guessed they were preparing for the journey.

When Killian stood before Brian, the chieftain turned back to Taryn. ‘You are certain he is the fuidir you want to accompany you?’

‘I am. I have seen that he is a strong fighter, one who would serve well for my needs. I have need of a protector.’

They spoke of Killian as if he weren’t there, as if he were a slave to be bought and sold. A hardness tightened in Killian’s chest when Brian faced him at last. ‘You will join us on this journey to Tara, to guard the Lady Taryn and obey her bidding. I have agreed to her request, and you will follow the wagons on foot.’

Not once did the man ask if Killian was willing—the assumption of obedience was unquestionable. But there was a knowing look in Brian’s eyes, making Killian wonder why the man had agreed to this. Perhaps the chieftain was waiting for Killian to lose his temper, to lash out and refuse the command. And the moment he did, it would give the chieftain a strong reason to throw him out.

Instead, Killian bowed and walked away. Let Brian wonder why he’d obeyed.

He passed his friend Seorse, who followed him down the stairs and outside. ‘What did the chieftain want with you?’

‘I am to guard the Lady Taryn and do whatever she commands.’ He kept his tone even, though he didn’t like the insinuation that he was to obey her bidding.

Seorse only smirked. ‘I wouldn’t mind letting a lady order me around. She might want you to help her bathe or—’

‘No.’ Killian cut the man off and took a step forward. ‘She is helping me to guard Carice while she travels to Tara.’

‘Is she?’ Seorse teased. ‘Or does she want you to guard her at night? In her tent, perhaps?’

He swung his fist at Seorse, but the man ducked out of the way. ‘Peace, Killian. I’ll take you to the armoury, where you can get weapons.’ He motioned for him to follow him. ‘If you’re obeying the chieftain’s commands, there is no reason why you shouldn’t have every means of guarding the Lady.’

He ignored the dig, realising that this was a benefit he hadn’t thought of. Although he had spent a few summers training with the MacEgan soldiers, never before had he owned a sword. But Seorse was giving him the right to choose. Killian could hardly wait to get his hands upon these weapons.

He walked with Seorse to the far end of the fortress, towards a staircase that led up towards the battlements. After they reached the top, Seorse pulled out an iron key and unlocked the door.

Below them, within the inner bailey, Killian saw Taryn watching. He guessed that she wanted to speak to him, to tell him more about her conversation with Brian. He lifted his hand to acknowledge her before following Seorse inside.

His friend led him into the small armoury and picked up a torch from an iron sconce. Swords, maces, and daggers lined one wall while spears and colc swords hung upon another.

Killian studied each of the swords, ignoring the decorative hilts. Though a longer sword might be visually attractive, he preferred a sharp, light blade. In the end, he chose a colc sword. He also selected two daggers, neither one with jewels—only blades that were so sharp, the lightest touch drew blood upon his thumb.

‘I want these,’ he told Seorse.

The man gave him a belted scabbard for the sword and Killian secured one dagger at his waist and another in his boot.

The door opened, and light filtered into the room. Taryn stood at the entrance, and Seorse approached. ‘How may we be of service, Lady Taryn?’

‘I wish to speak to Killian alone. Leave us, if you will.’ Her regal demeanour made it clear that she expected to be obeyed. Seorse did, but he sent Killian a knowing look as he departed, closing the door behind him.

‘What did he say?’ he asked quietly.

She leaned back and crossed her arms. ‘Brian agreed to lend me your service, as my personal guard.’

‘Did you tell him anything else?’ He didn’t know if the Lady could be trusted yet. Carice’s life hung in the balance, and he knew not what she had said to Brian.

‘He already knows that my father is the High King’s prisoner, and that is why I am accompanying Carice. Brian told me that King Rory ordered the provincial kings to send soldiers to help defend Éireann against the Normans. He wants to build an army of men from all across our lands.’ She paused, then added, ‘My father did not send the soldiers. I suppose he thought to keep peace in Ossoria, protecting our people from having to shed blood in a war.’

But the man’s refusal was undoubtedly seen as rebellion, Killian suspected. ‘Rory will take the men, if that’s what he’s wanting.’ He came closer, studying the young woman. In the dim torchlight, the silver torque gleamed about her throat, though most of her face was shielded by the veil. ‘To deny the High King’s will is treason.’

She tensed when he drew closer. ‘I know it. But I can’t let him die.’ She wrapped her arms around her waist. Before he could speak again, she continued, ‘Brian was not going to let you come to Tara. When I mentioned it, he said that he didn’t want you near Carice. I didn’t like the way he spoke of you.’ She raised her defiant blue eyes to his, and they seemed to hold a greenish hue in the light.

‘I told him that I would be grateful if you would...become my guard. He offered me a man called Seorse, but I refused.’ Though she was trying to keep her tone neutral, he sensed her reluctance to tell him the truth.

‘There’s more, isn’t there?’ He faced her fully, waiting for her confession.

Taryn faltered a moment and admitted, ‘I let Brian believe that my interest in you was...more than the desire for a guard.’

He didn’t know what to say to that, for it was the last thing he was expecting. ‘Why would you say that?’

The young woman’s gaze lowered to the floor as if she were humiliated by the idea. ‘It was the only thing I could think of. And he...he agreed.’ She looked as if she wanted to disappear into the wall, but her daring had caught his attention in an intriguing way.

‘You let him think that you wanted me?’ The idea was so startling, he could hardly grasp it. ‘We’re hardly more than strangers.’

Taryn closed her eyes. ‘I know it. But surely you know that you are...a handsome warrior. It was as good a reason as any. And he believed it.’ She raised both hands to her cheeks as if to cool the flush.

That wasn’t the reason. The chieftain knew that Killian would rather die than be servant to a woman. It was a means of putting him in his place, of humiliating him. If he refused, then he could not guard his sister. If he agreed, then it forced him to obey the whims of Lady Taryn.

His anger rose up again, and he warned her in an iron voice, ‘I am no one’s slave.’

She stiffened, and her hands moved to her sides. ‘I never asked you to be.’

He took a step nearer, adding, ‘I am not yours to command, either. You need me more than I need you.’

‘You’re wrong,’ she murmured. ‘And while it’s not the way I wanted to travel, I’ve done this to help you.’ She took a breath and faced him. ‘I know that I am not fair of face, and it is an insult, asking you to join me in this ruse. But I thought you would want to be near your sister.’

There was no self-pity in her tone—only a woman who spoke with frankness. To hear her speak of herself in that way bothered him. Aye, she had scars that had transformed her face. But he did not find her repulsive at all.

Killian reached out to her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. When she opened her blue eyes, he saw traces of fear and anxiety. ‘Were you wanting me to share your tent?’ He wanted to see if her shyness was real or feigned, so he loosened the veil and drew his hand across her scarred cheek.

‘No! Of course not.’ She jolted at his touch, trying to pull back. And yet, he sensed that no one had ever paid attention to this woman. She was trying to make herself invisible, trying to hide behind her veil.