pensively into the darkness. Rosalia had run to escape abuse, and now Liadain had brought it straight to her door. Hell, she pretty much had opened the door and let it in. What was she thinking? She was a healer. She was to help. She was not meant to hurt others or to place them directly in harm’s way.
“There has to be something I can do to fix this. Just tell me, MacGregor. I will do anything.”
“I need to inquire if the English dragon is alone at court or if she is here with Dunnehl.”
“Dunnehl? Please donna tell me he was the English lord Rosalia was to wed, because he is here.”
He paused. “How do ye know this?”
Liadain was thankful for the darkness. It was the only way she could escape his scrutiny—although she could feel his eyes upon her. She shifted restlessly on the bench.
“Healer?” he demanded.
“Please, MacGregor, I donna want to battle with ye. We have more than enough to be concerned about.”
“I told ye. I need to know all of it. Now,” he ordered.
She did not understand why he would want to know the particulars of her encounter with Dunnehl, but the man sat wordlessly and she discerned that he was not going to give up any time soon. “When ye took your leave for the village, I supped, and as I walked back to my chamber, he approached me.”
There was a heavy moment of silence.
If MacGregor required the entire truth, she would have to enlighten him about Dunnehl’s churlish behavior, not thinking it would make much of a difference anyway. But she was uneasy about elucidating the details to MacGregor. She would just blurt it out quickly, like ripping a bandage off a wound.
“Dunnehl introduced himself and planted a kiss—a verra wet kiss—on the top of my hand. I tried to excuse myself and told him I would be retiring. At first, he restrained me and wouldnae let me pass. He then asked if I would be retiring alone. There. Ye have it all. There is nay more to speak of.”
MacGregor stood but did not move. He was silent and all she could hear was the sound of laughter in the distance. That was why she jumped when she heard the sound of his voice. “Is that all, healer?”
Liadain rose and reached out, touching his hard back. He flinched but did not turn toward her. Positioning herself in front of him, she grabbed both of his arms. “MacGregor, there is nay more to tell.”
“Did he hurt ye?” he asked, his voice hard. “I will have the truth.”
“Dunnehl? Nay.”
MacGregor grabbed her by the elbow, leading her out of the garden. How he could see in the darkness was beyond her, but he clearly knew where he was headed. “I need to think upon this. I will escort ye back to your chamber and we will speak on the morrow.”
For once, Liadain agreed with him. If she could retract her words she would, but the damage was already done. She had certainly made a mess of things. Not wanting to make matters worse, she would wait until MacGregor told her what to do.
***
Declan’s thoughts raced as he walked the healer back to her chamber. He would need to find a way to warn Ciaran, but how, when he trusted no one? Even more disturbing was the picture that continued to display in his mind, torturing him.
Dunnehl placed his hands on her.
The thought gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. He had not been there to protect her. After all, that was the sole reason he remained at court. He had failed her.
Sure enough, he had made another wrong choice. He had willingly traveled to the village—yet again desiring drink more than fulfilling his responsibility to the lass. Perhaps Ciaran was right and one day Declan’s recklessness would harm another. The truth to that fact pushed upon him like a heavy weight. The situation could have been much worse, and he would not have been there to safeguard her.
They reached the hall to her chamber and had yet to say a word to each other. Casting a sideways glance, he saw that the healer’s gaze studied the floor.
“Ye arenae at
“There has to be something I can do to fix this. Just tell me, MacGregor. I will do anything.”
“I need to inquire if the English dragon is alone at court or if she is here with Dunnehl.”
“Dunnehl? Please donna tell me he was the English lord Rosalia was to wed, because he is here.”
He paused. “How do ye know this?”
Liadain was thankful for the darkness. It was the only way she could escape his scrutiny—although she could feel his eyes upon her. She shifted restlessly on the bench.
“Healer?” he demanded.
“Please, MacGregor, I donna want to battle with ye. We have more than enough to be concerned about.”
“I told ye. I need to know all of it. Now,” he ordered.
She did not understand why he would want to know the particulars of her encounter with Dunnehl, but the man sat wordlessly and she discerned that he was not going to give up any time soon. “When ye took your leave for the village, I supped, and as I walked back to my chamber, he approached me.”
There was a heavy moment of silence.
If MacGregor required the entire truth, she would have to enlighten him about Dunnehl’s churlish behavior, not thinking it would make much of a difference anyway. But she was uneasy about elucidating the details to MacGregor. She would just blurt it out quickly, like ripping a bandage off a wound.
“Dunnehl introduced himself and planted a kiss—a verra wet kiss—on the top of my hand. I tried to excuse myself and told him I would be retiring. At first, he restrained me and wouldnae let me pass. He then asked if I would be retiring alone. There. Ye have it all. There is nay more to speak of.”
MacGregor stood but did not move. He was silent and all she could hear was the sound of laughter in the distance. That was why she jumped when she heard the sound of his voice. “Is that all, healer?”
Liadain rose and reached out, touching his hard back. He flinched but did not turn toward her. Positioning herself in front of him, she grabbed both of his arms. “MacGregor, there is nay more to tell.”
“Did he hurt ye?” he asked, his voice hard. “I will have the truth.”
“Dunnehl? Nay.”
MacGregor grabbed her by the elbow, leading her out of the garden. How he could see in the darkness was beyond her, but he clearly knew where he was headed. “I need to think upon this. I will escort ye back to your chamber and we will speak on the morrow.”
For once, Liadain agreed with him. If she could retract her words she would, but the damage was already done. She had certainly made a mess of things. Not wanting to make matters worse, she would wait until MacGregor told her what to do.
***
Declan’s thoughts raced as he walked the healer back to her chamber. He would need to find a way to warn Ciaran, but how, when he trusted no one? Even more disturbing was the picture that continued to display in his mind, torturing him.
Dunnehl placed his hands on her.
The thought gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. He had not been there to protect her. After all, that was the sole reason he remained at court. He had failed her.
Sure enough, he had made another wrong choice. He had willingly traveled to the village—yet again desiring drink more than fulfilling his responsibility to the lass. Perhaps Ciaran was right and one day Declan’s recklessness would harm another. The truth to that fact pushed upon him like a heavy weight. The situation could have been much worse, and he would not have been there to safeguard her.
They reached the hall to her chamber and had yet to say a word to each other. Casting a sideways glance, he saw that the healer’s gaze studied the floor.
“Ye arenae at
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