Page 105 of Desire's Ransom
“’Twas my fault.” She said it so softly, he almost didn’t hear it.
But how could anything have been her fault? “You were only a child.”
She shook her head. “I could have saved her.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Tell me everything from the beginning. Please, Temair. I want to hear it.”
She closed her eyes. For a long while, she said nothing. He could see she was struggling to find the courage.
“Please,” he asked tenderly.
When she finally spoke, her voice wavered as if she were a young lass again, reliving her life, moment by moment. But she told him everything.
She told him about her childhood of bruised ribs and black eyes and a split lip.
She told him how she always fought back and how her sister did not.
She told him the terrible secret she didn’t find out until later—that while Cormac used his fists on Temair, what he did to Aillenn was much worse.
She told him about hiding in the stable with Bran and Flann that night, about Aillenn coming to her, pale and shivering, a specter of herself.
She told him about her sister sending her away, telling her to flee and never look back.
Then she choked over her words, coming to the difficult part of the story.
Ryland realized he was clenching his jaw tightly enough to crack his teeth, so great was his hatred for Cormac. But uncontrolled rage would do Temair no good. So he forced himself to take a steadying breath and bade her continue. “Go on. ’Tis all right.”
“I told her to come with me. I told her we could sleep in the woods with Bran and Flann. I told her we could hide together until the morn.” She broke off suddenly with a sob.
“But she didn’t listen,” he guessed.
She shook her head. “I should have tried harder. I should have dragged her into the woods. I should never have left her.” Her voice was raw and ragged. “If I hadn’t left her, she wouldn’t have leaped from the tower. She wouldn’t be dead now. ’Twas my fault. ’Twas all my fault.”
“Listen to me!” Ryland seized her by the shoulders, locking eyes with her. His own vehemence astonished him. “’Twas not your fault! You couldn’t have done anything to save her. If she hadn’t leaped to her death that night, she would have sliced her wrists the next or taken poison the night after. What your father did to her—she couldn’t live with that. There was nothing you could do or say to change that. ’Twas not your fault. Do you understand? ’Twas the fault of that bloody monster, Cormac.”
She looked as if she wanted to believe him. But he knew it would take time. She’d been living with the guilt over her sister’s death for six years. Maybe one day she would accept the truth. Maybe one day shewouldbelieve him.
Until then, the least he could do was slay her demons.
He released her shoulders and then raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “Come on. Let’s go take back yourtuath.”
Temair felt as if a yoke had been lifted from her shoulders. The grief would never be gone, but at least she no longer felt burdened by guilt.
Ryland had helped her conquer one enemy. And now he offered to help her vanquish another.
They had just finished dressing when Bran and Flann came trotting back in through the vines. The hounds had apparently forgotten all about fetching herbata. They were probably hungry.
“Come on, lads,” she said as she and Ryland emerged from the cave. “We’ll see if there’s any food left from break—”
She froze in her tracks. Ryland bumped into the back of her. Then he too froze.
The camp was packed with people. Woodkerns and English soldiers sat on every available rock and stump. Those without perches leaned against trees, sat on the ground, or stood. They were awkwardly silent. Most of them had ale. All of them were looking anywhere but at her.
How long had they been here?
Bloody hell! Long enough to have overheard them trysting, she was sure. She felt her face go hot.
Unconcerned by what they thought of him, Ryland was the first to find his voice. “Have you all made peace then?”
