Warrior of Ice. Michelle Willingham
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had magnified those beautiful eyes. Her hair was wet from the rain and snow, like a length of black silk. Every man there had been unable to take his eyes from her, and that was why the High King’s men had believed she was Carice.
Fate had delivered a way of saving his sister into Killian’s hands, and he had acted on that instinct. The woman clearly wanted help, and he would give it—at his own price.
Carice wanted to leave, to have her freedom, and this young woman was offering herself as part of the deception. He didn’t know how he would use her—perhaps they could switch places. But for now, he would take her inside, and find out what she wanted later.
His breath became mist in the frigid air, and he kept his gaze fixed upon her. She was terrified and with good reason. Everything rested upon the decision he made now.
‘My men have travelled far,’ the commander said. ‘They need food, wine, and a place to sleep before we depart on the morrow.’ His gaze narrowed upon the young woman. ‘Open the gates, and we will give her this night to ready her possessions.’
Killian had no wish to bring the soldiers inside the castle, but neither could he raise their suspicions. To deny them hospitality might make them question their motives. He inclined his head once. To the woman, he said, ‘You should return to your chamber. I will escort you there.’
And then he would have the answers to his questions. Though he doubted if she posed any threat, he would find out before he allowed her to dwell among the women. He kept her gloved hand in his, noting the slight tremor in her palm. But even so, she carried herself with a quiet grace that was different from the other women he’d known. And he knew, without her revealing her true identity, that this woman had noble blood.
Before they could walk further than a few paces, the commander stepped forward to intercede. ‘We go with her, lad.’
‘I am Killian MacDubh. Not your lad,’ he said. But he motioned the commander to follow. When they reached the entrance, he ordered the men to open the gates.
‘They are here at the High King’s command,’ Killian told the guards. ‘They have come to escort Carice to her wedding.’ Which was the truth, and none here would deny it. He deliberately said nothing about the strange woman, for once the gates were open, he intended to have words with her and learn her reasons for the deception.
While the soldiers rode inside, Killian moved back to wait for them. The young woman drew away from the horses, gripping his palm as if she was trying to gain strength from him. Her fear had not diminished at all, and he wondered if she had been fleeing from someone in pursuit of her.
Not once had she let go of the woollen brat, and he now was beginning to think she was trying to hide her true identity. For what purpose?
Against her ear, he murmured, ‘Do exactly as I command and say nothing.’
She nodded, and Killian brought her forward while the men gave over their horses to the stable boys. His friend Seorse was watching, and Killian kept his voice low, saying, ‘Take the High King’s men to dine with our chieftain while I escort the Lady to the solar.’
Seorse looked as if he wanted to ask more, but Killian shook his head slightly, denying him that. There would be time for answers later.
Thankfully, the High King’s men followed Seorse into the Great Chamber. His friend welcomed the men, and Killian kept the young woman back so that she was hidden from Brian Faoilin’s view. Once the men were speaking to the chieftain, he seized the opportunity to escape. He took the young woman towards the spiral stairs leading towards Carice’s chamber. For a moment, he paused, waiting to see if any of the High King’s men would follow. When no one did, he pulled her into the shadows and covered her mouth with his hand.
In a low voice, he murmured, ‘I’m going to take my hand from your mouth, and we’re going to talk. You’re going to tell me who you are and why you’re here.’
Although she had offered herself in Carice’s place, that didn’t make her worthy of trust. If anything, her lie made him more suspicious. She was here for reasons of her own, and he knew not what threat she posed.
Killian removed his hand from her mouth, but the young woman kept the brat over her face, hiding her features. She met his gaze evenly. ‘I am Taryn Connelly of Ossoria. My father, King Devlin, is a prisoner of the High King and will be executed on the eve of Imbolc. I came here to seek help from your chieftain.’
For a moment, Killian studied her. Of royal blood, was she? He could almost believe it, given her demeanour and the way she held her posture. But no king’s daughter would travel alone.
‘Where are your escorts?’ he demanded.
She glanced behind her and shrugged. ‘I...brought only a single guard. I sent him here before me, but I have not seen him. I do not know where he is now.’
The worry in her voice did nothing to dispel his distrust. She was hiding the truth from him, as well as her face. Though he knew why she had veiled herself among the soldiers, he wondered why she would not uncover her features.
‘Lower the brat,’ he ordered. ‘I want to see your face.’
Her blue eyes held wariness, and she shook her head. ‘No. Not now.’ She gripped the wool as if it could make her invisible from his gaze.
The stricken expression in her eyes warned that she did not want him to see her.
He couldn’t imagine why. With her midnight-black hair and spellbinding eyes, she captivated his attention.
Killian ignored her refusal and took the edges of the wool, forcing her to remain still. He lowered the brat from her head, revealing her face. It was then that he saw the jagged red scars upon her right cheek. It looked as if someone had tried to tear her face open, and he could only imagine the pain she’d endured. There was a matching scar upon the left side, though it was whiter in colour.
This was why she had wanted to shield herself. If the men had seen the scars, they would have known she was not Carice.
He was at a loss for words. Not because the scars and reddened skin made her unattractive—it was because they revealed a suffering that no one should endure. And this beautiful woman would bear the marks of this attack forever.
Her hair hung down in waving locks against her shoulders, and it was still soaked from the rain. When she pulled the wet strands against her cheeks, the scars were barely visible. Like Carice, Taryn had blue eyes, but they held a stronger resemblance to the sea. Worry creased her expression, as if she did not want him to see her true appearance.
‘And now you see why I hide myself,’ she admitted. ‘I am ugly. No one would ever want to look upon me.’
Killian supposed that men did avoid her—and yet, the scars revealed a woman who had been through the worst and survived it. It didn’t bother him at all; instead, it intrigued him.
‘Do not hide yourself from me,’ he told her. ‘You have nothing to fear.’
She gave him a half-hearted smile, as if she didn’t believe him. And still she held the silken strands to her face, like a shield. ‘I don’t know why the men possibly believed I was Lady Carice,’ she said. ‘I look nothing like her.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But the men have never seen her before.’ Carice had brown hair with hints of red and gold. Her blue eyes were lighter than Taryn’s, similar to a bright summer sky. His sister had lacked no shortage of suitors, but Brian had no intention of letting any man have his only daughter, save the High King.
‘Why was your father taken prisoner by the High King?’ he asked Taryn.
She shook her head, admitting, ‘I don’t know. Whenever I ask why, my mother will not give me an answer.’ At last, she released the strands of hair, letting him glimpse the reddened scars. ‘I want to plead for his life, but she refused to allow it. It is why I travelled alone. I thought I could ask your chieftain for help, and I would offer