Warrior of Ice. Michelle Willingham
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Carice stared at the young woman as if uncertain what to say. The cat jumped down from the bed again, padding towards Taryn. The moment he approached, she tensed and moved aside to avoid him. Harold responded by purring and nudging her legs, but Taryn wouldn’t even look at the animal.
‘King Rory’s men arrived less than an hour ago,’ Killian told his sister. ‘They want you to journey to Tara in the morning.’
‘They what?’ Horror came over his sister’s face. She glanced towards the door as if trying to think of an escape. ‘So soon?’
He squeezed her hand in quiet reassurance. ‘I haven’t forgotten my promise, Carice. Trust in me.’
Taryn came closer. ‘I will help you to avoid the marriage,’ she told the other woman. ‘I could disguise myself in your clothing until you’ve managed to leave. And then Killian will bring me to Tara in your place before anyone knows you have gone.’
Killian studied his sister, who had laid her head back down. God above, he wished he could take this suffering from her. She should have had a life before her, marriage and the children she wanted. Instead, every moment was filled with pain.
‘What do you want to do, Carice?’ he asked, gently touching her cheek.
His sister let out a weak smile. ‘It seems that Fate has changed our plans, doesn’t it, Killian?’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘While I understand your offer, Lady Taryn, I fear it cannot work. My father would never allow us to carry out such a deception, much less an escape.’ She reached out a hand to the cat, who came closer and rubbed his head against her fingers. ‘If the King’s men are here, my father will insist upon accompanying me.’
The desolate weariness on her face was like a blade in Killian’s chest. If she had to leave with the High King’s men, it would end her life even faster.
He wanted to plead with Brian to end the betrothal, but the chieftain was blind to his daughter’s illness, believing that she would overcome it. He wanted Carice to be Queen of all Éireann, no matter what the cost. If these men wanted her to leave with them, Brian would send his daughter.
‘Your father doesn’t have to know,’ Taryn said. ‘Let him believe that I am merely accompanying you to your wedding. No one will suspect anything if you begin the journey at my side. We could travel in a litter, and then you can slip away at night. If I remain hidden, it would give you time enough to flee. Perhaps my guard could take you wherever you want to go.’
His sister took a shaky breath. To Taryn, she admitted, ‘What you are suggesting is dangerous. If I do escape, when you arrive at Tara, the High King’s men will tell him what happened. You would be punished for deceiving his men.’
‘It is a risk,’ Taryn agreed. ‘But I am willing to try, for my father’s sake.’
‘And what if the High King demands that you take my place?’ Carice asked. ‘You are Lady of Ossoria, after all. What if he forces you to marry him?’
Taryn’s face reddened, and she shook her head. ‘He would never wed someone like me.’ She fingered the ends of her hair, and Killian knew why. She didn’t want anyone to see her features. And though he could demand that she show his sister the scars, he was holding back her secret. There was no need to voice what both of them knew. The High King of Éireann would never accept a scarred woman as his bride.
Even so, Taryn was not as unattractive as she seemed to believe. No, she did not have the strong beauty of Carice, but her long black hair framed a face with bold blue eyes. The freezing rain had dampened her face, and her wet hair rested over her shoulders. Her gown clung to a slender body with a slight swell of hips and generous breasts.
A sudden vision flared, of peeling back her gown to reveal that creamy skin. He imagined tasting the water droplets as they rolled over erect nipples and between the valleys. Would she sigh with pleasure, arching and grasping his hair?
Gods, where had that thought come from? It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, and certainly he’d never had a noblewoman in his bed. This one seemed timorous somehow, though she had braved her journey here alone.
Her appearance might be marred, but Taryn of Ossoria had something that others lacked—courage. He knew of no woman who would offer to deceive the High King at a risk to herself.
‘King Rory will seek vengeance if you do this,’ Carice insisted. ‘He is old and cruel. And he acts swiftly before considering the consequences.’ She paused a moment and looked at him. ‘He is also Killian’s father.’
Taryn didn’t flinch, but she admitted, ‘I heard him say that when he spoke with the soldiers.’ She glanced over at him as if she expected to see traces of his father there. And perhaps there were. Killian prided himself on never allowing emotions to cloud his judgement.
‘I am the High King’s bastard,’ he reminded her. ‘Not a true-born son.’
He expected the young woman to regard him with derision. Instead, she seemed more curious, her gaze discerning.
‘Killian and I are not brother and sister by blood,’ Carice said. ‘But I’ve always thought of him in that way. His mother sought sanctuary with my father, and we grew up together, though we had different parents.’ She ventured a smile, but he sensed that she was growing even more tired.
Taryn moved closer to them, and upon her face, there was sympathy. ‘Why does your father want you to marry the High King, if you find him to be cruel? Especially if you’ve been so unwell?’
‘Because Brian wants me to be High Queen,’ Carice admitted. ‘And because he does not believe how ill I am. He cannot accept weakness in anyone, and he keeps sending for healers who bleed me and give me potions I despise.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I suppose, in his own way, he wants a better life for me. You know what a father will do for his daughter, do you not?’
Killian caught the sudden flash of pain over the young woman’s face when she nodded. ‘I do, yes. And I know what a daughter would do for her father.’
A silent understanding passed between them. Then Carice added, ‘I know you are trying to help him. But you should not endanger yourself. There are other ways you might send men to Tara.’
Killian wasn’t so certain. If the Queen had refused to intervene on her husband’s behalf, then there were reasons for it. In the meantime, he wasn’t going to lose the opportunity to get Carice to safety—not when Taryn had offered to help.
‘I will speak with Brian and see what can be done,’ Killian offered. He placed the cat beside Carice and pulled the coverlet over her, brushing her hair aside. ‘Rest now.’ Harold curled up beside his sister, and she stroked his ears. Her eyes held sadness, as if she’d resigned herself to an unwelcome fate. But Killian wasn’t about to give up hope. There had to be a means of saving her—and he wouldn’t stop until he’d found a way.
* * *
Taryn followed Killian into the hall, but he did not return towards the stairs. Instead, he beckoned for her to follow him towards another chamber.
‘Aren’t we going to speak with your chieftain?’ She wasn’t certain quite where he was taking her.
Killian seized a torch from an iron sconce on the wall and opened another door. ‘Not yet.’ He stood before the entrance, waiting.
Though she knew he was expecting her obedience, she took a moment to study him closer. She could see the chain mail beneath his dark woollen clothing. His forearms were scarred, and his face held the dark bristle of unshaved cheeks. His grey eyes were the colour of the sky on a winter’s morning.
Taryn took a single step inside the chamber, then froze. The room was small, hardly large enough for a chair, and it had no window at all. ‘I’m not going in there.’ She didn’t know this man at all and certainly didn’t trust him.
He placed the torch upon one wall, and it illuminated