Duchess of Sin by Laurel McKee Page B

here. You were at the stable.…” Yes, the abandoned,
     burned stable. Not the battle.
    “I fear you’re the one felled this time,
cailleach,
not me. Can you feel this?” He slid his hand over hers, pressing hard on her fingers. “Can you move them?”
    She carefully wiggled her fingertips, but it felt like a bolt of lightning shot up her arm at the movement. “It hurts!”
    “Better that than numb.” He raised her limp hand to his mouth, kissing her wrist just above the edge of her glove. His mouth
     was warm and strangely soft, soothing. It made her want to press even closer, to curl up in the strength of him. There could
     be no nightmares there.
    “I’m so sorry,” he muttered, holding her hand against his cheek. She felt the bristles of his beard on her skin. “You shouldn’t
     have been here.”
    “No, she should not!” another man shouted. “They were shooting at
you,
you bastard. This is your fault.”
    Grant Dunmore. He had no place in her old memories. That realization made her remember entirely where she was, what had just
     happened. St. Stephen’s Green, the shots, her horse rearing…
    “Psyche!” she cried. “My horse. Is she all right?”
    “Shh, lie still,” Adair said, gently holding her to the ground. “She is fine; everything is fine now. I won’t let anyone hurt
     you again.”
    “You’re the one who caused this!” Grant yelled.
    “I said no more fighting,” Anna whispered weakly. “So rude.”
    Adair smiled down at her. That smile transformed him, making him seem younger, freer. Why did he not smile more often, Anna
     wondered dazedly.
    “Good girl. You must be feeling better,” he said.
    “Good girl? I thought I was a witch.”
    “Anna!” her mother screamed. “Oh, dear God, what has happened?”
    Anna heard the rustle of silk, smelled the sweetness of lily perfume, and her mother’s face swam into view above her, blocking
     out the shifting sky. Katherine’s cheeks were white as chalk, her eyes wide and bright with tears.
    For as long as Anna could remember, her mother had been cool and calm, as serene as the angel she was called. She nursed her
     servants and tenants, all her children’s childhood accidents, with a quiet, kind efficiency. She ran the vast corridors and
     wide acres of Killinan Castle with never a hair out of place. Only once before had Anna seen her reveal her fear so starkly—when
     they were fleeing Killinan for Dublin during the Uprising and ran into that horrible battle.
    She had followed Anna anxiously for months after that, always so watchful. Only recently had Anna found a measure of freedom
     again. This incident would surely put an end to that.
    “Anna, are you hurt?” Katherine said, taking Anna’s hand in hers as her gaze frantically scanned for any wounds or blood.
    “I am fine, Mama,” Anna answered. She made herself laugh, shaking away the last stubborn remnants of her fears and memories.
     Of her desire for another kiss from Adair, even while bullets flew. “Just a bit startled.”
    Katherine sat back on her heels, still holding tight to Anna’s hand. She glanced around them, from one face to the other,
     as if she sought answers. Only then did Anna realize that a crowd had gathered around them.
    “What happened here?” Katherine demanded.
    Anna sought out Adair, who stood just beyond her mother’s shoulder. He looked even more disreputable than before. He had lost
     his hat, and his hair fell over his brow in a windswept tangle. His cravat was raked loose, and there was dust on his coat.
     He stared back at her, that wildness in his eyes tempered with caution.
    She gave her head a small shake, silently begging him to go along with her. “I just fell from my horse, Mama, that is all.
     Psyche took a fright at the noise, and she reared up. I’m sure it was some idiots shooting at rabbits.”
    “Psyche? How can that be? You’ve trained her so well,” Katherine said, frowning.
    “All horses are unpredictable