His head felt as heavy as stone. Although he had his freedom now, it meant less than he’d thought it would. Like a hollow shell, he had no one to share it with. The thought of returning home was an impossible vision.
A gnarled hand touched him, and he managed to raise his eyelids. Deena spread a cooling herbal mixture upon his wounds, and it made it easier to give in to the sleeping draught.
‘She cares for you,’ Deena said. ‘You’d best watch yourself, slave.’
‘She belongs with Davin.’ He winced when she touched the sword wound, wrapping a bandage around his ribs.
‘Aye, she is betrothed to him. But why did she come to tend you, instead of Davin?’ The healer’s knowing glance pierced him.
Kieran struggled to breathe, pain lancing his side. ‘I don’t know.’
The lie fell from his mouth, but he suspected that Iseult’s feelings were as tangled as his own.
Deena sat back to regard him. ‘Do you love her?’
He said nothing, closing his eyes as if he hadn’t heard the words. Though he wanted Iseult for himself, she was fully out of his reach.
‘Well?’ she prompted again.
‘Stop your prying, woman.’
Deena laughed and leaned forwards, lowering her voice. ‘If you want to win her heart, find her son. A man who loved her would seek the answers she cannot find.’
Kieran turned his face away from the healer, sinking into sleep. And in his dreams, the face of his brother haunted him.
That night, Iseult stood at Davin’s side in the cool stone chapel while their priest, Father Aengus, said a special Mass for the dead. The Latin words washed over her, familiar and comforting. But when she knelt to pray among the tribesmen and women, she found herself praying for Kieran. She murmured the silent words, both for him and for her missing son. God keep them both.
Afterwards, Davin led her back to his dwelling. Iseult forced herself to go with him, though she wanted to return to the sick hut. Her thoughts roiled with guilt, for she was betraying Davin by keeping silent about her feelings for Kieran.
But if she admitted the truth, Davin would kill Kieran. The only way to protect him was to hold her tongue.
When they arrived, Neasa approached them from the far side of the chapel. The woman wore her hair bound up in a fine linen veil, and her grey eyes held solemn accusations.
‘Davin, your father wants to see you.’ She smiled warmly, embracing her son. ‘He wants your help in inspecting the damage. Iseult and I will direct the meal preparations while you’re gone.’
Davin lifted her palm to his lips. ‘I’m sorry, a stór. I’ll return soon.’ The heat and longing in his eyes drove an invisible knife into her heart. Somehow, she forced a smile.
Neasa waited until he’d joined Alastar at the opposite end of the fort before she spoke. ‘I saw you earlier,’ she accused. ‘You went to the slave’s hut alone during the battle.’
It was clear what Neasa was implying. Iseult could not deny it, but what could she say? She chose her words carefully. ‘I did, yes. And without Kieran’s help, all of us would have died in the battle. You know it as well as I. I went to gain his help.’
‘You were alone with him. And when Davin learns of it—’
Iseult cut her off. ‘He will not learn of it.’ Fear gripped her by the throat. She fully intended to break off the betrothal, but not until Kieran had recovered from his wounds. His life depended upon her silence. ‘Nor will he hear lies from you.’
Neasa’s face turned bright with fury. ‘I would tell him nothing but the truth.’
‘As I intend to do, once Kieran has gone.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Hold your silence, and you will get what you long for most of all.’
‘How could you presume to know what I long for?’
‘You want me to break my betrothal with Davin,’ she predicted. To her embarrassment, her voice shook. The strange finality of her decision hurt. Davin was her friend, a man who loved her. Leaving him meant breaking his heart, even if it was the right thing to do.
‘And you would do this?’ Neasa grew still, her face tightening with disbelief.
‘I want what is best for him,’ Iseult managed. And knowing what she felt for Kieran, it was best not to marry Davin. It would only hurt both of them. ‘And I no longer think I would make a good wife for him.’
Neasa’s hand moved to her heart. ‘It is because of the slave. You’re protecting him.’
Iseult shook her head. ‘He saved my life and the life of everyone here. He has earned his freedom, not accusations that could cost him his life.’
Neasa remained unconvinced. ‘Are you leaving with him?’
‘No.’ She had no intention of betraying Davin any more than she already had. ‘I’ll return home to my family. Alone.’
The crack in her heart split open a little wider, knowing that she would not see Kieran again. Seeing him near death in Deena’s hut made her soul bleed.
Neasa stepped back. ‘He deserves to know what you did. You owe him your confession.’
‘What is there to confess?’ Iseult’s anger rose within her. ‘That I do not love him the way he deserves to be loved?’
‘That you shared your body with that slave while he was away in battle.’
‘I did nothing of the sort. You can believe whatever you like in your own narrow mind. I’ll be leaving soon, and that’s all that matters to you.’
Neasa didn’t smile, but opened the door. ‘Go in. Davin will be expecting to see you after he returns. Though I’d be as happy if you left now.’
Iseult stepped across the threshold. Inside, the warm interior smelled of roasted fish and stewed cherries. Several female slaves worked to prepare the meal, and Iseult chose a place beside one of the low tables to wait.
Thankfully, it was not long before Davin reappeared. She rose to greet him, and he embraced her warmly, kissing her cheek. ‘I’d like for us to take our meal outside. I want to have a private celebration with you.’
Dire warnings resounded in Iseult’s mind. She had hoped to avoid hurting Davin’s feelings, but if she went with him, he would want to press his affections upon her.
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked.
The thought of food made her stomach churn. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she admitted.
‘Neither am I.’ He leaned down and kissed the soft spot of her neck. ‘Not for food, anyway.’ His warm hand moved over her spine in a silent invitation.
Iseult moved away from him, her face on fire. She didn’t want him to touch her, but neither could she admit the truth. Not until Kieran had healed and was gone.
‘Is something wrong?’
She shook her head, not facing him. ‘I’d rather go outside.’
Davin followed her, but when they were away from his parents’ home, she realised her mistake. He thought she wanted to be alone with him. His arms wound around her waist, and she could feel his desire. Her throat closed up with fear and guilt.
‘I am glad that you were all right after the battle,’ she said, trying to keep him distanced. ‘I was afraid for you.’
‘I would not have let them harm you.’ Davin’s grasp tightened around her. ‘There is something else we learned. The hostages we took were Norse spies, not Sullivans.’ His hand traced the spot on her cheek where the bruise was still fading. ‘You were fortunate Kieran was there to keep you safe.’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘God blessed our battle and made us victorious,’ Davin continued.
‘I only wish we hadn’t lost so many men.’
His face sobered. She didn’t want to think of the images he carried with him, watching his own men die. With a heavy heart, she broke away from his embrace. ‘It’s been a long night for both of us. I think it’s best if I return home.’
Regret clouded his face, and his hand closed upon her nape. ‘I will see you on the morrow.’
After she left, she walked slowly back to Muirne’s hut. As the moon rose ab
ove the ringfort, she stopped to gaze over the wall at the charred grasses. The heavy scent of smoke and ashes coated the air. Her palm curled over the wood of the palisade, splinters cutting into her skin. Soon she would leave this place.
And then what?
Over the past year, she’d continued her search for Aidan, but had done little else. She had followed in the path of other women, cooking and weaving. Mindlessly becoming more and more of a shadow.
If she returned home, would she lose herself entirely? Iseult raised her face to the sky, taking a deep breath. More than anything, she wished Kieran would take her with him.
She’d never met a man with more intensity. And he’d wanted her. The day of the battle, there was no denying it. She had revelled in his touch, the way she never could with Davin. Even now she craved being with him. Was it only desire? Or something more?
The old impulses sparked. She sensed that if Kieran ever let go of the nightmares that haunted him, there was a man of true worth beneath it all. Someone worth fighting for.
It was time to be honest with herself, and to stop hiding behind her grief for Aidan. Though she would never cease the search for her son, neither could she let Kieran go. Not without learning what he felt for her.
She halted in front of the sick hut, a tangle of thoughts running through her head. The door opened, and Deena stepped outside.
‘He’s asleep,’ she said. Her kindly face held understanding, and Iseult wished she could go into the older woman’s arms for comfort.
‘How is the wound?’
‘I’ve treated it as best I can. Pray for him, and he may be spared.’ Her gaze turned troubled. ‘Did you see Davin?’
Iseult inclined her head. ‘I did. And I would like to see Kieran now.’
‘Do you think it wise?’
From the knowing look in Deena’s eyes, Iseult wavered. ‘I need to know that he will live.’
‘That is in God’s hands.’ Nonetheless, Deena opened the door. ‘Would you like some camomile tea?’
‘I would, yes.’ Iseult stepped inside, and the comforting scent of healing herbs surrounded her. Coals glowed upon the hearth, warming the interior. Three men slept upon pallets, Kieran’s being the furthest away. Iseult walked towards him, and knelt down. Deena had removed his tunic, leaving only the linen bandages upon his torso.
Though he had not the immense strength of some of the other tribesmen, rigid muscles moulded his chest. Lean and sinewy, he was no less dangerous than brawny men such as Cearul. She closed her eyes, for Cearul was numbered among the dead.
She wanted to touch Kieran’s skin, to feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. But she’d not disturb him.
‘Iseult?’ Deena held out a steaming clay mug.
She stepped across the bodies of the men, accepting the hot drink. The healer gestured for her to sit down upon one of the log stools. Iseult sipped at the sweet blend, tasting the camomile.
‘Why did you come back?’ Deena prompted.
‘To see about the men.’ She kept her voice neutral, but the healer seemed to see through her façade.
‘Iseult, you tread upon dangerous ground,’ the healer warned.
She tore her gaze away from Kieran, for it was clear Deena had already guessed the truth. ‘What would you do, were you in my place?’
‘I would tell Davin.’
‘And so I shall. But not until Kieran has healed.’ She gazed over at him once again. ‘Davin would kill him otherwise.’
‘You cannot protect the slave,’ Deena cautioned. ‘The longer you wait, the worse it will become.’
Iseult took another sip of the tea. ‘I won’t let his life be forfeit, if I say anything to Davin. Kieran might desire me, but he would never take me with him. There is nothing for us.’ She looked back at Deena. ‘Will his wounds heal before Bealtaine?’
The woman shrugged. ‘If he does not die of a fever, he would be well enough to leave. It would be dangerous to travel, though.’
Iseult finished her tea and stood. ‘I must return to Muirne’s. Let me know if anything changes. Else I will come back on the morrow.’ She embraced the older woman.
‘You should tell Kieran of your feelings for him, Iseult.’
‘I can’t.’ She raised her brat to cover her head. ‘For I don’t know what I feel.’
‘You’re in love with him.’ Deena squeezed her hand. ‘And he deserves to know it.’
A bright burning stung her eyes, and Iseult shook her head. ‘It would change nothing.’
‘It might change everything.’
Chapter Fourteen
Death had not taken him, but instead had left Kieran with pain beyond anything he’d ever experienced. Even a fortnight later, he was not well enough to leave Lismanagh. Though Davin had granted his freedom, his wounds imprisoned him here.
Deena had moved him back into the carver’s hut, and she visited him each day, inspecting him with the precision of a commander. She had spread foul-smelling concoctions upon his wound, and so far he had managed to recover.
But Iseult had not come. Not since that night. He was glad she’d listened to him, though he’d felt the loss of her presence. He needed to know that she would be safe, that someone would protect her. Especially since that man could never be himself.
Though Deena had encouraged him to rest, he disliked being idle. He sharpened his tools and renewed his work upon the dower chest. As each day passed, he carved an interlocking design that incorporated both Irish and ancient Norse patterns. Though he was still too weak to travel, he would finish as much of it as possible before he left.
And each time Iseult saw it, she would remember him.
At night, he’d spent hours working on another piece of yew. Though it was not as detailed as the carving of Iseult, the task occupied his hands. Seeing the face emerge pained him, for it brought forth memories he’d locked away for several moons.
A shadow blocked his light in the doorway. His heart quickened at the sight of Iseult. She wore a gown of almost pure white, with a cream overdress. Tiny stitches of rose thread formed embroidered flowers upon the overdress.
‘Why did you come?’ He set down the chisel, startled to see her.
‘Because I couldn’t stay away any longer.’ She moved to stand behind him. Gently, she laid her hands upon his shoulders. The touch, light as a kiss, brought a ripple of guilt into his conscience.
Gods, she was driving him to madness. If she were his, he’d pull her down to his lap, plundering the sweetness of her mouth. He would close the door, no matter that it was daylight outside. She would lie upon his pallet, and he’d savour the time alone with her.
Instead, he took her hands and removed them gently. ‘You’re betrothed to Davin.’ The reminder was as much to himself as to her.
‘Only until you’re healed.’
He heard the note of hope within her voice. And though it made him want to pull her into his arms, holding her close, it was a dream that could never be. He was a slave, a man without a home. A man with nothing to give.
‘Iseult—’
‘Don’t.’ She braved a smile through the glimmer of tears. ‘I know what you’re going to say. And I’m not ready to hear it yet.’ She stepped away and ran her slim fingers over the dower chest. ‘This is beautiful.’
‘It will be finished in time for your wedding.’ He couldn’t let her hold onto false hopes.
Iseult’s expression dimmed. ‘I won’t be marrying Davin.’
He reached out and took her wrist. ‘You should.’ He couldn’t let her throw away her future, not on a man like him. ‘He’ll take care of you.’
‘He’s not the man I want,’ she murmured. The pain upon her face made him long to say something. He wanted her more than he’d ever thought it was possible to want a woman. But already he’d let himself get too close to her. Allowing himself to feel anything towards Iseult would only make it harder to leave her. And leave, he must.
Before he could speak, she interrupted h
im. ‘I don’t want your pity. I know that you don’t care for me. But I won’t hurt Davin by pretending he’s someone else.’
Kieran struggled to rise to his feet, using the table for balance. He hated seeing her misery, knowing he was the cause of it.
‘You’re wrong.’ He closed his eyes, leaning down until his nose touched hers. Iseult stood so close, their breath mingled. Her lips parted, an open invitation to kiss her. But he did not. He savoured the last few moments before he stepped backwards. ‘But I can’t give you what you want.’
A tear escaped her blue eyes, and the sight cut him down. She looked so damned fragile, as though she would shatter. And her sadness was because of him.
‘What is it you think I want?’
‘A home. A family and people who love you.’
She lowered her chin. ‘None of that matters.’
He cupped her cheek, sliding his fingers behind the curve of her ear. ‘It matters. I know what it is to be alone. And it wouldn’t suit you.’
‘I wouldn’t be alone. You would be with me. It’s enough.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not a man worth saving, Iseult. I’ve committed more sins than any priest could ever absolve.’
‘Is that why you sold yourself into slavery?’ she asked. ‘Do you really believe yourself undeserving of happiness?’
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Go back to him, Iseult. Let him give you the life I can’t.’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve lied to him these past few weeks in order to save your life. I stayed away from you, to protect you. I won’t lie to him any more.’ Anger glittered in her eyes, overpowering the tears. ‘As soon as you’ve left Lismanagh, I’m going to tell him the truth.’
Her gaze lowered to his bandaged side. ‘You’d better leave as soon as you’re able. Because if you’re still here when I end the betrothal, Davin will kill you.’
The day before Bealtaine, the atmosphere transformed from one of mourning to one of celebration. Though none could forget the men who had died during the invasion weeks ago, the rituals were held sacred. The dawning of spring and the prayers for a good harvest were far too important.
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