Page 71 of Desire's Ransom
“And no one’s laid eyes on her in six years,” said William.
“Not since that fateful night she murdered her sister,” said Robert.
Temair squeezed the wooden cup in her fingers until her knuckles were white.
The whole camp had gone quiet. William and Robert probably presumed it was due to their suspenseful storytelling. But nobody dared breathe a word, lest they reveal Temair’s identity.
The last person she expected to speak on her behalf was Ryland.
“Ballocks!” he spat. “’Tis an unfounded rumor. There’s no evidence Temair O’Keeffe had anything to do with her sister’s death.”
Temair was stunned. That Ryland was aware of the local rumors surprised her. But even more surprising was the way he was standing up for her. Nobody had ever sounded so sure of her innocence.
Not even the woodkerns defended her with such trust. Indeed, not all of them believed that Temair was completely blameless in her sister’s demise. They might not think Temair intentionally pushed her sister off the tower. But some of them assumed it was an unfortunate accident caused by Temair’s temper or carelessness or neglect. Even Temair felt she might be partly responsible.
Ryland’s touching words—combined with the fact that she was on her fourth ale—made tears well in her eyes.
William held up his palms in protest. “I’m not saying she did it. I’m just passing along what the servants said.”
“I pity the bridegroom,” Robert snickered. “The poor fool is walking into a trap. He’ll be lucky to survive a fortnight if O’Keeffe is marrying off his murderous daughter to the king’s man.”
Ryland’s face was grim. “I’m sure the king’s man is not one to give much credit to the prattling of maidservants.”
Temair’s heart swelled. Ryland was defending her.
Then she furrowed her brows. She supposed he wasn’t actually defendingher.He didn’t even know she was the chieftain’s daughter. It was more about him defending hisownreputation as a man who knew the difference between fact and fiction.
But Robert wasn’t listening. “I wonder how long he’ll last before the monstrous she-devil does him in.”
“God’s wounds!” Ryland exclaimed. “How dare you disparage a woman you’ve never met?”
Temair could feel the heat of righteous indignation rising off of him. It was thrilling. And flattering. And seductive.
William nervously licked his lips as he gripped Robert’s arm, keeping his companion under control. “Oh, I’m certain that’s not what he meant. You didn’t mean that, did you, Robert? Of course he didn’t. What would we know of the wench, after all? We only just arrived at the keep.”
“You should guard your tongue,” Ryland warned.
“Oh, absolutely,” William agreed.
Robert yanked his arm out of William’s grip with a snort.
Before a brawl could ensue, Temair changed the subject. “It grows late, gentlemen. Have ye finished your ales? ’Tis best ye were on your way before the wolves start prowlin’.”
Robert gulped down the last of his ale. “Aye, fine.”
William looked mildly disappointed. He probably would have enjoyed spending the night with the woodkerns. “Ah. Right. Thank you for the ale.”
“Thankyefor the silver,” Temair said pointedly.
“Oh, aye,” William said with a sigh, untying his leather purse and handing it to her.
“And yours?” Temair urged, nodding at Robert.
He scowled, but did likewise.
Temair counted out half of the coins from each purse and handed them back.
“You don’t want all of it?” Robert asked.
