Rain slashed at the windows of the hut. The fire sputtered in the grate, but Geyer and Rolly took turns making sure it stayed lit. The weather had turned unseasonably cold as soon as they had crossed the border between an Deisceart and an Tuaisceart. Wind howled like a banshee around the windows as Aisling tucked a musty blanket around Darque’s shoulders.
“How much of that shit did you give him?” she heard O’Hearn whisper to Geyer. “He should be awake by now.”
“And she should be asleep,” Rolly put in.
“I can hear you,” she said tiredly as she leaned back in the chair that she’d placed beside the room’s single bed where her husband lay sleeping.
“Not saying anything I didn’t want you to hear, Máistreás,” Rolly defended.
“You do look tired, milady,” O’Hearn said. “There are dark circles beneath your eyes.”
“It is draining to wield the kind of magic she used at Allendahn,” Geyer said wisely. “Any fool knows that.”
O’Hearn bristled. “Are you calling me a fool, boy?” he demanded.
“Not if he wants to keep his tongue,” Rolly warned.
A bolt of lightning struck close to the hut, the crack of it loud and then thunder shook the structure. The elderly gentleman in whose hut they had taken refuge when the storm threatened, tossed uneasily on the pallet he had made for himself by the fireplace. Upon seeing his chieftain being carried into his humble abode, the old man had insisted the Taoiseach have the bed.
“We thank you, grandfather,” O’Hearn had said. “But if you will roll out a blanket for him on the floor…”
“I ain’t your sodding grandfather, you young whelp. The name be Seamus O’Rourke and the hell I’ll do such a thing! I ain’t gonna let my Taoiseach sleep on the bloody floor!” he’d informed O’Hearn. “Go on with you a’fore I knock you senseless, boy! I ain’t got much, but what I got is his more’n it is mine.”
“He wouldn’t think so,” Aisling had said gently as O’Hearn laid Darque upon the small bed.
“You be the new Máistreás?” the old man had asked.
“I have the honor of being the wife of the Taoiseach, aye,” she replied with a smile.
“Then I will take myself to the barn, milady,” he said and would have had she not reached out a hand to stop him.
“You’ll do no such thing!” she said.
“Ain’t fitting for the likes of me to be sharing the same room with the Banbharún of Daingean,” he protested.
“Would you be after insulting me then, Seamus O’Rourke?” she questioned—perfectly mimicking the old man’s thick brogue.
“Nay, Máistreás, but…” the old man sputtered, but she cut him off with a soft squeeze of his arm.
“Then do me the honor of staying,” she said. “I would feel such mighty guilt if you should hie yourself to the barn.”
The old man’s rheumy eyes glistened. “If’n that is how you would have it…”
“It is,” she had said firmly.
“Old Seamus could sleep through a hurricane,” Rolly commented now as the old man wheezed in his sleep then settled down again.
“I’m feeling as if I could, too,” Geyer said with a yawn.
None of them had gotten any sleep the night before, and for Aisling, it was going on two nights without. She was exhausted, but she had no intention of sleeping again until she was in her own bed—with her husband lying safe beside her.
“Milady, I’ve a question,” Rolly said. He poked at the fire.
“Ask away,” she told him.
“Is there a name for that what you did?” he asked. “Making us look like them that we aren’t?”
Aisling nodded. “It is called cóipeáil,” she replied. “It means to copy in an Deisceartian.”
“Right handy trick,” Rolly told her. “I didn’t feel no different than I always do. How is that?”
“I didn’t, either, when she made me look like the Taoiseach’s ward,” said Geyer.
“You don’t actually change physically,” she said. “It is a trick of the eye, a projection of one image over another. You make those people see what you want them to see. It’s like drawing a black line through words you don’t want anyone to read. The reader sees the line but not the words beneath.”
“In our case, the face beneath,” O’Hearn said.
“Precisely.”
“Huh,” Geyer said. “No wonder you’re so tired, milady. That was four of us—five there for a while—you had to project plus keep yourself invisible to all but us and the Lady Eugenie. That’s a lot of energy to expend.”
She looked at her husband. “It was worth it,” she said.
****
Long after the sun set, the storm raged on. The ground in front of the hut was a soggy quagmire and when Rolly sent his brother to check on the horses to give them hay and water for the night. The young man came back without his boots.
“Where the hell are your boots?” Rolly demanded.
“Got stuck in that gods awful mud,” Geyer grumbled. “They’re sitting on the porch fair caked with it.”
Aisling had made herself useful by conjuring up a pot of chicken stew that had completely drained the last of any powers she had. It would take hours—mayhap a day—for those powers to be back to full capacity. She could have called on Lady Eugenie, but she knew the older woman would be just as tired—if not more so—than she was. It had taken a lot of energy to conjure and hold in place the noxious smoke that had allowed them to rescue Darque from so far away.
“You’re not a half-bad cook, milady,” Geyer said as he sat cross-legged at the foot of Darque’s bed and noisily ladled the stew into his mouth.
“That’s an offhand compliment if I ever heard one,” O’Hearn complained. He looked at Rolly. “Didn’t your ma teach him when not to open that big yap of his?”
“Ma stopped trying to teach that boy anything long ago,” Rolly replied.
“Who taught you how to shoot?” Aisling asked. If it hadn’t have been for Geyer’s expertise with the tranq gun, things could have been a lot more dangerous at Allendahn.
“Taught myself,” Geyer said with a grin. “Ain’t half-bad if I do say so myself.”
“Well, I, for one, am grateful for your ability, Geyer,” she said. She looked at O’Hearn and Rolly. “And for what you did, as well. Each of you is a Gaiscíoch.”
Rolly blushed at being given the title of hero warrior and for once seemed to be without words.
“I think young Geyer spoke for all of us when he said he would gladly lay down his life for the Taoiseach or you,” O’Hearn said. “We all feel that way, Máistreás.”
****
Darque slowly opened his eyes. He could hear rain beating against a roof and for a moment thought he was back at Daingean. The room around him was dark except for a faint glow off to his right. He turned his head slowly and frowned when he realized the glow was coming from an unfamiliar, rough stone fireplace. He tried to lift his head and pain screeched between his temples and nausea leapt up his throat like a jack-in-the-box. He gagged, went to turn over and cried out as pain lanced his side.
“Careful!”
He recognized the voice.
“Tymmie?” he whispered for his throat was as dry as bone.
“You’ve broken ribs, milord,” O’Hearn told him. “You need to lie still.”
“Water,” he pleaded hoarsely.
“Of course!”
His head was spinning so badly he couldn’t remember where he was or how he’d gotten there. Why Tymmie was with him. The bed on which he was laying was hard as concrete and it smelled odd. There was a scent of mustiness, of age and decay surrounding him which made no sense. He felt as though he was encased in cotton—everything around him muted and dull. His ears were ringing. Lifting a hand to his head, he rubbed his forehead in an effort to pull memories from his brain.
“Here you go, milord,” O’Hearn said as he gently ran a hand under Darque’s neck and helped him to lift his head.
The first thing Darque saw when his head left the spongy pillow on which it had been resting was Rolly Vryn’s shadowed face peering at him from the semi-darkness. He felt a bit easier for wherever Rolly was, Paddy couldn’t be too far away.
But why were they there? Had they been in a skirmish? Reconnoitering? Gotten separated from the rest of the troop? As he let the blessed water trickle down his throat, he realized it was painful to swallow. Had he been shouting orders until he had strained his voice? What the hell was going on?
“Easy now,” O’Hearn whispered. “Not too much.” He pulled the glass away from Darque’s lips.
“Where are we?” Darque queried just above a croak.
“About ten miles from the an Deisceartian border near Wellowburn Springs,” was the answer.
What the hell were they doing there? Wellowburn Springs was only three miles from Allendahn!
“It’s raining cats and dogs out there and the roads are flooded,” O’Hearn told him so quietly he could barely hear the man. “We aren’t going anywhere any time soon.”
“Why are you whispering?” he asked.
“Finally got her to sleep and I don’t want to wake her,” O’Hearn replied.
“Who?” Darque asked. “Who are you talk…?”
A sharp pain struck between his temples and he gasped. He groaned so loudly the sound reverberated through his pounding head.
“Shit,” he heard O’Hearn curse. “Rolly, give me that vac-syringe.”
Darque flinched as a needle was thrust into his neck and fiery pain spread up his artery. Darkness began to flow over the room.
“Tymmie, what’s happening?”
As the drug pulled him down beneath its weight, he thought that was Aisling’s voice he heard. Not that it could be. She would not be with them if they were on a mission. But as his eyelids started to close, he thought he saw her beautiful face floating above him.
And he would have sworn he heard her say she loved him.
****
“I ain’t never seen so much rain,” Seamus said as he stood at the open door and looked out. “The springs are gonna be overflowing. Mark my words.”
“We’re on high ground here, though, aren’t we?” O’Hearn asked.
“Been living here nigh on forty years and ain’t never had to worry about being swept away,” the old man replied. “But then I ain’t never seen so much rain fall in so short a time, neither.”
Aisling was annoyed with the four men for allowing her to fall asleep earlier. She had a nasty crick in her neck from nodding off in the rocker. If Darque’s groan hadn’t awakened her, she might still be dead to the world.
“You think he’s dreaming?” Geyer asked her.
“Quite possibly,” she replied. “Why?”
“His eyes are moving back and forth under the lids,” Geyer said.
“Then he’s dreaming,” O’Hearn told him.
“Wonder what he’s dreaming,” the young man said. “He’s grinding his teeth something fierce.”
Aisling walked over to the bed. Darque was lying on his back with his arms outside the covers. His fists were clenched. “Nothing good,” she said and sat down on the edge of the bed. She put her hand on her husband’s arm and stroked him gently. She wished the bed was large enough for her to lie down beside him and take him in her arms.
“I don’t think he remembered what happened,” Rolly said. “If he had, he wouldn’t have been so calm when he woke up.”
“It’s best he not remember just yet,” O’Hearn told him. “He thinks his lady was executed.”
Darque moaned in his sleep and Aisling reached up to lay her palm on his cheek. Her touch calmed him.
“I’m here, love,” she said quietly. “And we are all safe.”
“Not all of us,” Rolly mumbled.
She looked around at the new Bardach. “I know you hated what you had to do, but if we had brought him back with us—”
“I know, Máistreás,” Rolly said, cutting her off. It was clear to her he didn’t want to talk about it.
“It’s best he not know which of us pulled the trigger,” O’Hearn advised.
“I agree,” Geyer said.
“If he wants to hate me for it, so be it,” Rolly said. “If he wants to punish me—”
“He won’t,” Aisling stated firmly.
“You did what had to be done,” O’Hearn reminded him. “I could have drawn the straw same as you.”
“If we had left him alive, think what they would have done to him, Rol,” Geyer said. “With the Taoiseach gone, they would have taken out all their anger on Paddy.”
Aisling didn’t believe that was the case, but she didn’t say so. Rory had not been the best person, but he had sense enough to know the people really didn’t want to see the blood spectacles his father had forced them to watch over the years. Chances were good he would have commuted Dungannon’s sentence to life imprisonment, but she didn’t know that for a surety. Her other half-brothers could have argued that the horrendous execution needed to be fulfilled simply for spite. Either way, it was best the former warden of Daingean left this world. A man such as he would have gone mad locked up for the rest of his life.
She refused to listen to the malevolent little imp sitting on her shoulder whispering in her ear that he had gotten what he deserved for turning Darque over to the enemy.
“Aisling!” her husband called out but it wasn’t an agonized sound. It was a happy sound and she saw his full lips pull into a happy smile.
“I’m here, love,” she told him again. “By your side where I belong.”
****
“I’m here, love,” she said as she peeked at him from around a tall oak.
The day was bright and sunny but not too warm. A cool breeze whispered through the spreading leaves of the oak. Around them the meadow was lush with dark green flowers with tiny yellow buds that looked like teardrops. There was a sweet scent of jasmine in the air and overhead a flock of geese honked their way across the sky.
“You need to be over here,” he said, patting the space on the bright red-and-green plaid blanket upon which he was stretched out bare chested on his side with a fist bracing his head.
“And why is that?” she asked. She came out from behind the tree with the skirt of her white cotton dress fluttering in the breeze.
“So I can have my wicked way with you, of course,” he replied.
With her hands behind her back, she sashayed a bit closer. “What if I want to have my wicked way with you?” she countered.
“I might be persuaded to allow that, wench,” he replied.
She stopped a few feet away—her bare toes peeking out of the clover in which she stood. “How might you be persuaded, milord?”
He turned to his back, put his hands behind his head. “I could be ridden if there is a lass up to taking on the stallion.”
“I’m an expert horsewoman,” she said and put one foot atop the other.
“So I have learned,” he responded. He closed his eyes. “Well, have at it, milady. I am standing at the ready.”
He couldn’t see but could feel her gaze lowering to the front of his loose white cotton trousers where his cock was at full staff.
“All righty then,” she said.
He heard her flounce over to him and opened one eye just a tad. He grinned as she hiked up her skirt then continued on until the gown was over her head and then tossed aside.
“Where’s your underwear, milady?” he asked, closing his eye.
“I like to ride bareback,” she said as she dropped to her knees, threw a leg over his hips then sat her sweet ass on the tops of his thighs. Her fingers went to the drawstring of his trouser and he felt his cock spring free. “Oh, what an odd looking pommel,” she exclaimed.
“’Tis not a pommel, wench,” he replied.
“Then pray tell what is it, milord?”
“A pummel,” he said.
“And what does one do with a—”
“This,” he said and reached out to grab her hips. He pulled her down, rolled over her and used his knees to push hers wide. Without missing a beat, he thrust his cock into the velvet warmth between her legs then withdrew and thrust again.
She lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist, arched her back and met his plunges with uplifts of her own until he jammed his hands beneath her ass and jerked her to him.
He drove into her slick heat like a starved man after a feast. The sound of their bodies slapping together was the most sensuous thing he’d ever heard. The feel of her tight channel wrapped around him, squeezing him was exquisite torture. He jacked his hips forward with a powerful snap and she cried out. Her nails dragged down his back and he growled with desire. He could feel the head of his cock pressing against the farthest reaches of her sheath and that was a heady sensation. When he felt the first faint ripple of her release, he speeded up his pumping and added a swivel of his hips.
“Darque!” she screamed and dug her nails into the small of his back.
Which served to bring his climax rushing from his balls to the tip of his cock. The strong grips of her vaginal muscles around him made the release so potent he thought he’d black out. Five more rapid thrusts and the last of him was deep inside her.
With a gasp he buckled atop her—his heart pounding so fiercely he could count each individual beat. Heaving for breath, their bodies slick with sweat, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, he had never felt so alive or so drained.
They lay still until they could get their breathing under control. At last, he felt himself slip from her wetness and rolled off her to collapse on his back with an arm dragged over his eyes.
“Sweet Merciful Morrigunia,” she gasped.
“And that’s what you do with a pummel,” he said smugly.
She turned to her side to face him. “You might need to show me again,” she said. “I didn’t quite get the point.”
He snorted. “The hell you didn’t, baby,” he replied. “You got the entire point and then some!”
“I feel as though I might have gotten another woman’s share as well,” she said with a giggle.
“Nay, sweeting. What I have is for one woman and one woman alone.” He let his arm fall behind his head. “And you are that woman.”
“What of Aisling?” she asked.
He tilted his head toward her and a cold finger of terror gouged down his backbone.
“Madeline?” he questioned the red-haired woman lying beside him.
“Aye, love,” she said. “I am right here. By your side where I belong.”
“Aisling?” he whispered.
“Blackened to a cinder,” she replied with a smile. “Don’t you remember hearing her scream as she burned?”
****
He came awake with a gasp and sat bolt upright in the bed. His eyes were as wide and wild as they had been in the courtyard of Allendahn. A bellow of grief was ripped from him as though it was a living thing. His entire body convulsed as he tried to draw air into his lungs. O’Hearn and Rolly rushed to the bed for he was frantically clawing at his throat, making the most hideous sounds anyone had ever heard a human make.
“Move, woman!” Rolly shouted at Aisling. He all but shoved her aside as he came to the side of the bed where she was sitting and O’Hearn ran to the opposite. Between them they grabbed Darque’s arms and pressed him down to the bed.
“He can’t breathe!” she yelled at them.
Caught up in whatever horrific dream he had been experiencing, he struggled to break free. It was all the warriors could do to restrain him.
“Damn it, Tymmie, he’s turning blue!” Aisling shouted and punched Rolly as hard as she could in his back. He yelped and turned on her—lips drawn back over his teeth. “Get the fuck out of my way!” she ordered.
Stunned by the vulgar word, Rolly moved where she could get to her husband but did not relinquish his hold on Darque.
“Darque!” She climbed onto the bed and yelled his name again over the grotesque noises he was making. When he didn’t respond, she drew her hand back and slapped him as hard as she could across the face.
“Holy shit!” Geyer exclaimed, wincing at the hit.
A bright red handprint blossomed on Darque’s face but the slap didn’t register so she slapped him again—rocking his head to one side.
“Milady, please!” O’Hearn beseeched her. “Don’t do that.”
But she hit her husband again and this time he gulped in a loud intake of air. So much so he choked on it and began coughing, his head bouncing on the pillow as he gasped.
“Milord, you need to relax,” Rolly told him. “Lie still and relax.”
“Idiot,” Aisling pronounced him. She put both hands on Darque’s head to anchor it. “Darque. Darque, look at me.”
His eyes were glazed, and though open wide, she knew he wasn’t seeing her. She strongly suspected he was seeing the horror that had taken place in the courtyard of Allendahn. That he believed she’d died a gruesome death. The low keening that was coming from his throat was pitiful to hear.
“Darque, look at me,” she insisted and leaned over him—putting her face in his direct line of vision.
“He doesn’t see you,” Rolly snapped.
“I know that, you dolt,” she growled, snapping her head around to give him a nasty look. “If you can’t say something constructive and helpful, keep your mouth shut!”
Rolly glanced over at O’Hearn then clamped his lips together.
“Darque,” she tried again but he was muttering now—the words coming fast but they were nonsensical.
“You need to pull him out of wherever it is he’s landed, milady,” O’Hearn said. He and Rolly were striving to keep Darque on the bed. He fused his gaze with hers. “Before he can’t come back from there.”
She understood that all too well. Since her husband was scissoring his legs on the bed in an attempt to get up, she straddled him and gripped his cheeks tighter still.
“Darque!” she yelled into his face as loudly as she could. “Look at me!”
He jumped at the harsh tone and his eyes suddenly flicked to hers. They widened and his mouth opened and closed though the words had stopped.
“I am here, my husband,” she said. “Look at me. See me. I am alive and I am with you.”
His forehead creased as he searched her eyes, her face.
“I am here,” she said and moved her right hand to pull his wrist from Rolly’s grip. She brought his hand to her breast. “Feel my heart beating, beloved. I am real and I am unharmed.”
He stilled—no longer jerking against O’Hearn’s hold of his other hand. His legs stopped moving. He stared at her as though he looked at a ghost, but his fingers flexed against her.
“I am real and I am unharmed. We are gone from Allendahn. You are here with Tymmie and Rolly and Rolly’s little brother Geyer and you are safe.”
“Don’t forget about me,” Seamus told her. “I’m here, too.”
Aisling nodded. “And Seamus is here, too,” she said though she knew her husband had no idea who Seamus was.
Darque continued to stare silently at her—his gaze tracking every portion of her face then settling his entire attention on her eyes.
“A…aisling?” he whispered.
“Aye, my husband,” she said and patted his hand that was pressed to her breast. “It is me.”
“Not d…dead?” he questioned.
“No, love,” she said and smiled. “I am very much alive and right here with you.”
“But I saw…” He shuddered as though with the ague.
“You saw what everyone in the courtyard saw,” she said. “A woman who looked like me. It was she who was executed. She whose scream you heard before Geyer hit you with the tranq dart.”
He frowned. “Shot,” he said.
“It was the only way I knew you would be manageable,” she said.
He shifted his gaze from her to O’Hearn to Rolly. “Where’s Paddy?” When no one answered, he lifted his head from the pillow. “Where’s Paddy? Why isn’t he here?”
O’Hearn gave her a slight shake of the head, but Aisling knew she could not offer him hope where there was none.
“Paddy is dead, dearling,” she said quietly. “He died at Allendahn.”
Rolly moved back from the bed then turned away, going over to stand at the window where rain was cascading down the pane in sheets.
“Died?” Darque repeated as O’Hearn let go of his arm.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“But you brought him with us,” he said, his gaze once more searching her face. “You didn’t leave him there.”
“Darque—” she began but his face turned stone cold hard.
“You did not leave my best friend at Allendahn,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Aisling, tell me you did not do that!”
“We had no choice, Darque,” she replied.
“The hell you didn’t!” he shouted at her.
“He betrayed you,” she said.
“That doesn’t matter. He is my friend. I’ll not have those bastards desecrate his body!”
Then memory seemed to suddenly wash over him and she watched his face turn pale.
“They were going to execute him after you,” he said. “They were going to hang…” He stopped, horror filling his eyes.
“No,” she said firmly. “No, that is not how he died. He was gone before they could lay a hand to him.”
“Then how?” he demanded in a mean tone. “How did he die, Aisling?”
“I shot him, milord,” Rolly said though he didn’t turn around. “I put a bullet between his eyes.”
Darque was glaring at her and she watched an icy cold rage enter his eyes. A muscle bunched in his jaw.
“Get off me,” he told her, and when she didn’t, his voice became a bellow. “Get the hell off me, woman!”
Aisling scrambled away from him and off the bed.
“Get out,” he said. “All of you get the hell out!”
“Milord, it is pouring out there,” O’Hearn told him.
“Get the hell away from me before I strangle the lot of you!” he shouted.
Rolly didn’t question the order. He took two steps to the door, opened it and walked out into the downpour. Geyer took a fleeting look at Darque then followed his brother. Seamus mumbled but snatched an oilskin from a peg by the door and donned it. He pulled the hood up over his straggly white hair, hunched his shoulders and departed the hut. O’Hearn gave Aisling a resigned sigh then left.
Darque narrowed his eyes dangerously at her. “I told you to—”
“You can tell me whatever you feel you need to, Owain Darque, but I am staying,” Aisling stated.
“Not if I throw your ass out into the storm!” he snapped.
“Try it and you’ll be walking funny for a week,” she warned. “My days of being manhandled by brutish bastards are over and done.”
“You ordered his death,” he accused.
She surprised him by nodding. “Aye, I did.”
His eyes bulged. “And you willingly admit it?” he yelled.
“Would you rather they had hanged, drawn and quartered him, Darque?” she returned equally loud. “Would that have been better than a single bullet that he didn’t see coming and most likely didn’t feel?”
“And you think that makes it all right?” he demanded.
“He betrayed you,” she said. “Even if we had brought him back to Daingean, he would have been hanged. You know that, Darque, better than anyone.”
“But he would have died on an Tuaisceartian soil! His ashes would have been interred with his family! You took that away from him.” His eyes flashing crimson fire. “You took that away from me!”
Aisling backed away from the fury that had turned his handsome face as ugly as sin. She wanted no secrets between them especially now that it was in the open that she had been responsible for Dungannon’s death. She had fully intended to tell him she had ordered the execution and she needed to tell him about Madeline. But the rage that was smoldering in his eyes made her think twice about doing it at that moment.
“You have something else you need to tell me?” he thundered at her. He flung the covers aside and pivoted around on the bed so his feet were planted on the floor. “Best tell me now and get it the fuck over with!” He put a hand to his side, but he could not conceal the pain of his ribs grating against one another. His face registered the discomfort.
“You need to calm down and lay down,” she said. “You have three broken ribs and one could puncture—”
“Tell me!” he shouted.
“It was Madeline who died on the Witch’s Beam!” she threw at him.
She watched his lips part and his jaw sag. He was staring at her as though she had told him the sky was falling. Before he could ask, she lifted her chin.
“I have the power to place one image atop another. I placed my likeness over hers. I did the same with Tymmie, Rolly, Geyer and him—making them look like the Chónaidhm guards sent to kidnap me.”
“You can’t even say his name,” he accused. “It is Padraig, Aisling. Padraig Dungannon and he was my friend.”
“She, too, would have been executed for her part in your abduction once the Comhrialtas discovered her part in the plot. It was her plan to begin with. She led him—”
“Padraig!” he bellowed. “His name was Padraig!”
“Aye, Padraig!” she yelled back at him. “She led Padraig into doing what he did. Into luring you up to the cave so you could be taken. Both of them would have been put to death for their treason.”
“On an Tuaisceartian soil,” he reminded her.
“All right, Darque. Since that upsets you so greatly, I will apologize for not allowing the two of them to be executed here.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “But I will not apologize for ordering their deaths. I am the Banbharún of the Duibhlinn and my husband, the Barún, the Taoiseach was in mortal danger and unable to do what needed to be done. He had been betrayed by his own people and handed over to his enemy to be tortured and put to death. I was not going to allow that to happen! If I had to do it over, I would make no changes whatsoever.” She took a step toward him. “They did not deserve to be laid to rest on an Tuaisceartian soil. They gave up that right the moment they decided to have you murdered!”
“That was not your call to make,” he said between clenched teeth.
“The hell it wasn’t! You are my husband. I would give my life for you, Owain Darque Anbhás. I risked that life and the lives of three good and loyal friends to rescue your ass. Would you rather it had been me in that cell that the Chónaidhm jailers raped and sodomized?”
He flinched at her words, but he was gritting his teeth so hard she could almost hear them grinding together. His hands were clenched into fists on the edge of the mattress.
“Answer me, Darque!” she shouted. “Would you rather I had been the one degraded then burned on the Beam?”
“No!” he denied. “You know I wouldn’t!” He put up a hand to rake his fingers brutally through his hair. “I thought I would go mad listening to that gods awful scream, but that is not the point!”
She gaped at him. “Not the point? Then what is?”
He shook his head then lowered it for a long moment as she glared at him. When he lifted his chin, there were tears streaking down his cheeks.
“He was my friend,” he said, his lips trembling. “I loved him, Aisling.” His voice broke. “I loved him despite what he did.” His shoulders slumped and a single wail came ripping from his chest.
She went to him, put her arms around him and pressed his face to her abdomen. Wretched sobs tore through him—his weeping that of a broken man. He slammed his arms around her and held on tightly, almost crushing her. She stroked his hair but said nothing. There was nothing she could say. Nothing that would make this moment any easier for him. Crooning to him seemed like the natural, maternal thing to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to try to shush him. She sensed he needed the release, and instinct told her he had never let himself go like this ever before. Cradling him against her, she let the sorrowful weeping go on for as long as he had tears to shed.