were I completely naked upon this pallet,’ he said.
Her throat closed up and Aileen tried not to imagine his body, sleek and smooth with carved muscles and a taut belly. Worse, she had never forgotten what it was like to be held by him, loved by him.
‘You are right,’ she lied. ‘Your body holds no interest for me.’ She opened the door, needing to be far away from him. He might see the truth upon her face.
‘Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll stay until I’ve healed, and then I’ll return to Laochre.’
She didn’t reply, but returned to her own hut, her cheeks burning. How could she have Connor so near each day while his wounds healed? It would be like having a husband again. While Eachan had brought her comfort and friendship, Connor intimidated her. His strong presence shadowed her, making her yearn for the things she couldn’t have.
She had borne him a child, a secret she wanted to keep. Rhiannon was a precious, stolen moment. If he learned about his daughter, he would despise her for what she’d done. She couldn’t bear to see the disgust upon his face. All she had left was her pride.
Even now, he doubted her healing skills. He wanted to stay, but only as a way of hiding himself from the world. The thought of sharing such intimate moments, living together with him for the next moon, brought back her childhood fantasies. He was everything she desired, and all that was wrong for her.
Could she be strong enough to resist him? Surely it had been so many years; it wouldn’t matter if he stayed.
But inwardly, she knew the truth. Her heart wouldn’t last a single day.
Chapter 4
W aves of heat closed upon him, smothering Connor in a web of misery. Visions and hallucinations tempted him to let go, to sink into the silken arms of oblivion. He tasted bitter herbs, and his hands grew numb.
In his dreams, he craved vengeance against his enemy. He hadn’t laid a finger upon Deirdre, no matter what the enraged Flynn Ó Banníon had claimed. He didn’t deserve the punishment, and he longed to see justice done.
But as he watched Aileen mix potions and replace his bandages, he cleared his mind of the rising hatred. For now, he had to regain his strength. And he would need Aileen’s help, even after the bandages were removed.
Connor remembered a soldier who had nearly been buried alive when a wall collapsed upon him. The man had lived, but after the accident he could no longer care for himself. The soldier had become a burden upon others, relying on his family to feed and dress him.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Connor didn’t know what to believe about Aileen’s skills. The foul-tasting potions and poultices did alleviate his pain. But he grew uneasy about his hands. Why was she forbidden to heal any more? What had she done? He should have asked Seamus when he’d had the chance.
Though Aileen masked her feelings beneath a veil of calm, there was a desperation in her healing efforts. She stayed with him in the sick hut for many hours, changing the bandages, sponging at the cuts. It was as though she were trying to atone for a serious mistake.
A few strands of hair had escaped the tight brown braid, surrounding her face like a soft halo.
‘Connor, look at me,’ she commanded. Through the haze of fever, he stared back at her. ‘You must drink this broth.’
‘I am not hungry.’
‘You’ve hardly eaten in the past two days,’ she argued. ‘And I’ll not let you starve.’
The terrible-tasting fish broth made death seem inviting. Though her herbal teas and potions worked well, her cooking left much to be desired. ‘I prefer starving to eating that,’ he muttered.
‘It will bring back your strength.’
‘By making me retch? I think not.’ He grimaced. ‘Perhaps that is your plan. To be rid of me by serving me the most foul dinners you can conjure.’
‘I can conjure up worse meals than this.’
Was that a glimmer of amusement he detected in her face? It surprised him. She rarely
Her throat closed up and Aileen tried not to imagine his body, sleek and smooth with carved muscles and a taut belly. Worse, she had never forgotten what it was like to be held by him, loved by him.
‘You are right,’ she lied. ‘Your body holds no interest for me.’ She opened the door, needing to be far away from him. He might see the truth upon her face.
‘Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll stay until I’ve healed, and then I’ll return to Laochre.’
She didn’t reply, but returned to her own hut, her cheeks burning. How could she have Connor so near each day while his wounds healed? It would be like having a husband again. While Eachan had brought her comfort and friendship, Connor intimidated her. His strong presence shadowed her, making her yearn for the things she couldn’t have.
She had borne him a child, a secret she wanted to keep. Rhiannon was a precious, stolen moment. If he learned about his daughter, he would despise her for what she’d done. She couldn’t bear to see the disgust upon his face. All she had left was her pride.
Even now, he doubted her healing skills. He wanted to stay, but only as a way of hiding himself from the world. The thought of sharing such intimate moments, living together with him for the next moon, brought back her childhood fantasies. He was everything she desired, and all that was wrong for her.
Could she be strong enough to resist him? Surely it had been so many years; it wouldn’t matter if he stayed.
But inwardly, she knew the truth. Her heart wouldn’t last a single day.
Chapter 4
W aves of heat closed upon him, smothering Connor in a web of misery. Visions and hallucinations tempted him to let go, to sink into the silken arms of oblivion. He tasted bitter herbs, and his hands grew numb.
In his dreams, he craved vengeance against his enemy. He hadn’t laid a finger upon Deirdre, no matter what the enraged Flynn Ó Banníon had claimed. He didn’t deserve the punishment, and he longed to see justice done.
But as he watched Aileen mix potions and replace his bandages, he cleared his mind of the rising hatred. For now, he had to regain his strength. And he would need Aileen’s help, even after the bandages were removed.
Connor remembered a soldier who had nearly been buried alive when a wall collapsed upon him. The man had lived, but after the accident he could no longer care for himself. The soldier had become a burden upon others, relying on his family to feed and dress him.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Connor didn’t know what to believe about Aileen’s skills. The foul-tasting potions and poultices did alleviate his pain. But he grew uneasy about his hands. Why was she forbidden to heal any more? What had she done? He should have asked Seamus when he’d had the chance.
Though Aileen masked her feelings beneath a veil of calm, there was a desperation in her healing efforts. She stayed with him in the sick hut for many hours, changing the bandages, sponging at the cuts. It was as though she were trying to atone for a serious mistake.
A few strands of hair had escaped the tight brown braid, surrounding her face like a soft halo.
‘Connor, look at me,’ she commanded. Through the haze of fever, he stared back at her. ‘You must drink this broth.’
‘I am not hungry.’
‘You’ve hardly eaten in the past two days,’ she argued. ‘And I’ll not let you starve.’
The terrible-tasting fish broth made death seem inviting. Though her herbal teas and potions worked well, her cooking left much to be desired. ‘I prefer starving to eating that,’ he muttered.
‘It will bring back your strength.’
‘By making me retch? I think not.’ He grimaced. ‘Perhaps that is your plan. To be rid of me by serving me the most foul dinners you can conjure.’
‘I can conjure up worse meals than this.’
Was that a glimmer of amusement he detected in her face? It surprised him. She rarely
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