The Warrior's Touch (17 page)

‘I could have killed you! Keep your mind centred and away from distractions.’

Aileen drew back against the wall, both men staring at her with anger. ‘I am sorry. I should not have interrupted.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Connor demanded. Sweat beaded his face, his fair hair tied back. His grey eyes raked over her, and her cheeks grew hot.

The fierce anger in his expression made her want to retreat. The knots in her stomach twisted with the pain of seeing him again.

‘I brought Rhiannon,’ she said. Her tongue stumbled over the words. ‘I thought—’

‘We’ll continue this conversation in private,’ Connor said, opening the door and giving his brother a go-away stare. ‘I shall see you later, Patrick.’

‘Who is she?’ the King demanded. He sheathed his sword but did not hide his displeasure.

‘I am Aileen Ó Duinne,’ she answered. ‘The woman who healed your brother.’ She raised her knee in a gesture of courtesy and tried to keep her posture straight. Even so, her mind was a mess of torn feelings.

‘You caused him to lose his focus,’ Patrick accused. ‘He needs no distraction from his training.’

Aileen fisted her hands, her throat closing up with unshed tears. He was right. Though her daughter deserved to be here, she did not.

Connor gestured for his brother to leave. ‘I will deal with Aileen, Patrick.’

When the door closed, Connor drew the heavy wooden bolt across it. ‘Why did you come?’

Aileen stood before him, her heart trembling with dread. She lifted her face to meet his eyes. Beneath the rigid cast to his jaw was the man who had made love to her and the father of her child. Though she understood that he despised her, she wanted his forgiveness.

‘There were things left unsaid.’ She took a step forward, her body fully aware of his strength. Connor didn’t move, but she saw the flash of interest in his darkened gaze. He hadn’t forgotten the way it had been between them.

Before she could lose her courage, she raised her palms to his chest. It was meant as a plea, but his heartbeat quickened beneath her touch. She saw him fighting against his desires, in the way his mouth tightened. He looked as though he might push her away at any moment.

‘What was left unsaid?’

Years seemed to slip by in that single moment. Every word she wanted to say died upon her lips when his hands covered hers. The man before her was consumed by vengeance. He didn’t want her here.

But without warning, his mouth descended upon hers, urgent and warm. His scent filled her, his strong arms holding her close. The kiss sent waves of longing through her body, his touch awakening her. Her breasts tightened, her womb aching to feel him inside.

She kissed him back, her hands wrapping around his neck. With eyes closed, she could almost imagine that he cared for her.

Then he broke the kiss as if she’d burned him. ‘You know better than to pursue this, Aileen. We aren’t meant to be.’

The resolution in his tone was a razor against her heart. She let her hands fall to her sides. ‘And what of your daughter? Will you turn her away, too?’

‘You told her about me.’

‘She deserved to know the truth.’

‘Then why did you not tell her the truth, years ago?’

She expelled a ragged breath. ‘I was afraid. And Eachan loved her so.’

‘You were right to let her believe the illusion.’

Her spirits plummeted. When had he changed his mind? ‘You don’t want her?’ She could not believe he would turn his own child away.

His gaze remained firm. ‘Don’t give her false hope, Aileen. Until Samhain, it is best if you both keep your distance.’

She doubted if that were true. Even if he did survive the battle against Flynn Ó Banníon, something had changed between them. No longer sheltered from the rest of the world, here in his brother’s domain Connor had transformed into the Irish warrior she’d idolised as a girl. Stoic and fierce, she could see no forgiveness within him.

This man was as unreachable as the stars. ‘You want me to leave,’ she whispered.

‘That would be for the best.’ He opened the door, and as Aileen stepped through it, she cursed herself for opening her heart to him.

C
onnor groaned inwardly. He never should have kissed her. As soon as he’d touched Aileen, his body remembered the sensation of loving her. He wanted her in his bed, craved her with an insatiable hunger.

If she didn’t leave, it would kill him. He’d lied when he said he didn’t want her here. By the gods above, he wanted her.

She’d brought Rhiannon to him. He didn’t know what to think about her gesture. He wanted to know his daughter, but not like this. Though the daily training with his brother had helped immensely, their healer bound his hands each night. He often drank painkilling brews, pushing his body to its limits.

He refused to accept himself as less than a whole man. And he could never assume the role of father or husband until he regained his strength.

He opened the door to his chamber and was startled to see Rhiannon sitting there. The girl raised a finger to her lips. ‘They’re looking for me.’

‘You should not be in here.’

She crossed her arms and sent him a resentful look. ‘You are not my father. No matter what she says, it isn’t true. Eachan Ó Duinne was my father.’

‘He was,’ Connor agreed. ‘In every way that I could not be.’ Behind the angry words, he saw the girl’s pain. Her world had come apart with Aileen’s confession.

‘I won’t be your daughter.’ She lifted her chin with stubbornness. ‘You cannot make me.’

It was like watching his mother scold him once more. Her stance, the way she glared at him—every inch of her was a MacEgan.

‘Your mother will be worried about you,’ he cautioned. ‘Perhaps you should go and find her.’

She seemed relieved that he did not argue with her. ‘On the morrow, we will return home.’

‘If that is your wish.’ He said nothing about Aileen’s banishment but poured water into a basin and wiped the sweat from his face. Rhiannon waited and handed him a drying cloth.

‘Your hands are still bent.’

‘They are, yes.’

Before he could stop her, she took his hand in hers to study the fingers. Something reached inside his heart and pulled at it. With her small hand in his, he wondered what it would be like if she were to accept him as her father.

Her face brightened. ‘She did well, my mother. Other healers would have chopped your hand off.’

‘It’s glad I am that she did not.’

‘Do you drink willow bark?’ Rhiannon asked. ‘It is said to be good for pain.’

Connor hid his amusement. Like a small bird, Rhiannon spouted off healing advice. ‘Are you going to be a healer like your mother?’

The dark head bobbed forward. ‘She is teaching me.’

Rhiannon glimpsed the wooden splints and bandages upon the table. ‘Do you want me to bind your hands?’

‘That would be most helpful.’

She gathered the materials, and he sat down. Her small fingers worked deftly, arranging each of his fingers and tying the bandages off. Though he would have to adjust the tightness later, he allowed her to work upon his hands.

‘You’re a good
cailín
,’ he commented. ‘Your mother would be proud.’

A smile played at her lips. ‘Wear them each night,’ she warned. ‘They will help your hands to grow straight again.’

She left moments later, and Connor studied her handiwork. Though the bandages were not tied tightly enough, she had done her best.

Connor loosened the ties of his tunic and slipped off the garment. He stretched, his muscles sore from the exertion of the fight. Another day or two, he decided. They could stay a little longer. He would speak to Isabel and ask his brother’s wife to find an excuse.

‘And just where do you think you’re going?’ Aileen asked a guilty-faced Rhiannon. Her daughter had slipped behind one of the stone walls, eyeing the gate as if to escape.

‘Nowhere.’

‘I should hope not. You wouldn’t think of trying to run away, now would you?’

Rhiannon shook her head, but she refused to meet her gaze. Aileen caught a look from one of the guards, who offered a reassuring smile. She did not take comfort from it. Her daughter was quite capable of slipping away.

‘Why don’t you go to the stables? Ewan could show you the horses,’ Aileen suggested.

Rhiannon shook her head. ‘I want to go home. I don’t like it here.’

‘Has anyone been unkind to you?’

‘No. But no one speaks to me, and I’ve nothing to do.’

Aileen took Rhiannon’s hand. ‘Let us go and see Isabel. She may find something for you. Perhaps you can help their healer by gathering plants and such.’

Rhiannon brightened. ‘Do you suppose there are any wounded men?’

‘In a fortress of this size, there will always be wounded men.’

As they moved toward the Great Chamber, they passed by a group of men training in the courtyard. Aileen stopped to watch. The men wore leather armour, several groups sparring with the lightweight
colc
swords. In the heat of the afternoon, their bodies gleamed with sweat. Had Connor trained like this once, his body moving in the exercises of these same soldiers? She imagined his muscles flexing, his intense concentration upon his foe.

‘Did you wish to learn how to fight, then?’ one of the soldiers asked. With an easy smile and black hair, his blue eyes captured hers in a teasing gaze.

Aileen shook her head. ‘No. I was looking for Queen Isabel and stopped to watch.’

‘You’ll be finding her in her garden,’ the soldier advised. ‘But if you should like to fight, my name is Senan.’ His eyes showed interest, but Aileen paid it no heed. Her gaze centred upon a line of blood flowing from his arm.

‘You’re hurt,’ she said, moving closer to examine the wound.

‘Only a scratch. A nick from a blade when I didn’t move quick enough.’

‘My mother is a healer,’ Rhiannon offered.

‘Is she?’ Senan held out his arm. ‘Will I lose it, do you think?’ he jested.

Aileen shook her head. ‘Bandage it, and it’ll be good enough on the morrow. You’re right. It is only a small cut.’

‘You could tend it for me,’ Senan suggested, his voice offering seductive promises. Aileen wanted to laugh, but truly, it did feel nice to have a man notice her.

‘She has better things to do,’ a male voice cut in.

Connor’s searing glower did little to wrinkle Senan’s mood. The soldier merely winked at Aileen as he rejoined the fighting.

‘And what better things do I have to do?’ Aileen asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Walk with me, and I’ll tell you.’

She looked over at Rhiannon, who inched closer to the fighting. ‘Would you like to come with us?’

Her daughter shook her head. ‘I don’t like him.’

‘Rhiannon Ó Duinne! How could you say such a terrible thing?’

Connor did not seem surprised by Rhiannon’s remark. ‘She need not come along. If she wishes to stay and watch the men train, she may.’ He directed his attention to the girl. ‘Or, if you go into the weaver’s huts, you’ll find my brother’s daughter Brianna. She arrived this morning and is about your age.’

Rhiannon brightened at the prospect of another girl. ‘May I, please?’

Aileen hesitated, torn between Rhiannon’s thoughtless comment and curiosity about what Connor wished to say to her. ‘We will speak later about this,’ she warned her daughter.

Connor led her outside the gate. The lush hills beckoned before them, stretching all the way to the glittering sapphire sea. He continued onward, bringing her to a small grove of rowan trees. The rich, loamy scent of earth and leaves surrounded them.

The sun warmed her face, and she should have felt content to walk beside him. Instead, she grew wary. He didn’t want her here, nor Rhiannon.

‘What did you wish to say to me?’

‘You were looking at Senan. Don’t.’ He captured her chin as though chiding a young child.

She gave him a firm shove backwards. ‘You cannot seem to make up your mind, can you? One minute you tell me I should not have come, the next you behave like a jealous lover? I do not belong to you. You’ve made that quite clear from your actions.’

‘You’re not going to stay here, Aileen.’

She didn’t deny it, not when he’d treated her this way. Already she believed this had been a mistake. But she could not leave until Rhiannon’s fosterage was settled. ‘What of your daughter? Do you want me to take her away, too?’

‘Rhiannon may stay.’ His expression softened, and he glanced at his hands. Aileen noticed the splints, tied with the awkwardness of a child. ‘She tells me she wants to be a healer like you.’

‘Ever since she could talk, she has spoken of wanting to heal others.’

Connor sat down upon a moss-covered stone, leaning back against one of the trees. ‘Tell me about her.’ His tone remained neutral, but beneath it she sensed a greater need.

She sat apart from him, drawing her knees up. ‘Rhiannon was born on a snowy morn after the Feast of Saint Agatha. It was not an easy birth. I laboured for two days and nearly died. I was afraid I’d never hold her in my arms.’

Connor’s silence made her uncomfortable. Was she simply blathering on without his interest?

‘You let Eachan believe he was her father.’ His eyes were cool, his expression distant.

‘No.’ She picked up a small stone, tracing the sharp edges with her thumb. ‘Eachan offered to wed me. He knew I was with child. And he knew the child was yours.

‘I wanted her,’ she said softly. ‘Even though you were gone, I thanked God every day for the gift of her.’

Connor stood and knelt down beside her. Though she had hoped for forgiveness, she saw only anger in his face. ‘You should have sent word to me.’

‘I was only sixteen, Connor. I cannot undo the past. All I can do is try to heal it.’

‘Some wounds cannot be healed.’

Her glance turned toward his deformed hands. ‘No. Not all wounds.’

He caught her wrists, holding them still. ‘Tell me one thing, Aileen. Why did you take Lianna’s place? And do not say it was for the harvest. No girl would sacrifice her virginity to a stranger for such.’

‘You were never a stranger to me,’ she whispered. ‘You were my dream. A dream I couldn’t have.’ She knelt, tracing the roughened planes of his face with her palm.

But he didn’t kiss her. His warm skin might well have been made of iron instead of flesh, so remote he was.

‘Why is this fight so important to you?’ She dropped her hand away, angry at herself for reaching out to him. ‘Flynn will hurt you. Worse than he did the last time.’

‘I need to be the man I was before.’

‘And what if I want the man you are now?’ She bared her heart before him, even knowing he would hurt her.

‘Would you want a man without honour?’ he asked in return. ‘Do not ask me to stand aside like a coward.’

She lowered her head, realising that he would not be swayed. ‘I want you to live,’ she whispered. ‘For me and for our daughter. And if you insist upon sacrificing yourself for honour, then there is nothing left.’

His face held a thousand regrets. Cupping her cheek in his gnarled palm, he leaned forward. His lips met hers in a soft, unexpected kiss.

‘It’s better this way,
a chroí
.’