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 compensation to the warriors in return.’
He said nothing, for he doubted if Brian would want to be involved. The chieftain would do nothing to threaten his close alliance with the High King.
Taryn paused a moment and added, ‘Or if Lady Carice is travelling to her wedding, I could accompany her and speak with King Rory while I am there.’
‘You may ask Carice,’ he offered at last, ‘but Brian would never bring soldiers against the High King. Not when he hopes his daughter will be Queen.’
She thought for a moment. ‘I know you are right. I did not mean to suggest that his men would fight against the King. Only that...perhaps someone could help my father escape in secret.’ She raised hopeful eyes in his direction, and he knew she was referring to him.
‘No.’ Killian wasn’t about to go anywhere near the High King. This wasn’t his fight.
But she wasn’t so easily deterred. ‘Your men are stronger and better-trained than ours were. They could easily—’
‘Were?’ he interrupted. At the guilty flush on her face, he suspected the worst. ‘Are they dead, then?’
Her hesitation only confirmed his belief. Her men had failed, and it had cost them their lives.
‘I was not there to know exactly what happened. But yes, they died.’ She rubbed her shoulders as if to fight off a chill. ‘Perhaps it would be different with stronger men, like you. And you already have a reason to travel to Tara.’
‘You want me to risk my life for your father?’ he prompted. ‘My loyalty does not lie with Ossoria.’ Only with Carice, whom he would protect with his life. But he had no desire to lay eyes upon the father who had refused to acknowledge him.
‘Would you intercede with the chieftain for me?’ she asked at last. ‘I presume you are his son or...one of his commanders?’
Killian folded his arms across his chest. ‘I am little more than a slave here, Lady Taryn. But Carice is like a sister to me.’
Confusion crossed over her face. ‘Then why did you—’ She stopped speaking and chose different words. ‘That is, if you are only a slave, why did you speak to the High King’s men on Brian Faoilin’s behalf?’
‘Because if the soldiers killed me, my life would be no loss to the chieftain.’ He spoke the words matter-of-factly, though the real answer was because he’d recognised the High King’s banner. There was no question that the King’s men posed a threat to Carice, and he’d gone to protect her.
The Lady straightened and regarded him. ‘I don’t believe a man like you would ever willingly go to die.’
‘You don’t know what sort of man I am.’ He lived each day with the knowledge that he was nothing to Brian Faoilin, beyond his fighting skills. And Taryn was wrong—he would die to save Carice’s life. She was the only person who cared anything for him. The only woman who had given him kindness after his mother had died. He traced the outline of the silver ring upon his smallest finger that Iona had given him before her death.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t know you at all. But I suspect you might be someone who could help me. For a price,’ she added.
Though it was true that he did need gold or silver to raise his status, he was wary of trusting a stranger. He knew nothing of this woman, aside from her claims.
‘My only concern is in protecting Lady Carice,’ he told her. ‘She does not wish to wed the High King.’ And she is dying, he thought, but didn’t say it. The journey to Tara might weaken her even faster. He would do whatever was necessary to prolong whatever life she had remaining.
The Lady gave a nod. ‘I understand.’
Killian didn’t miss the slight shiver when she spoke, as if she feared the High King. And likely she had reason to, for few women wanted to wed a man so ruthless. His own mother had fled from Rory Ó Connor, remaining in hiding for the rest of her life.
‘I don’t think you do,’ he countered. ‘Carice wants to slip away and escape the marriage altogether. She was planning to flee before the soldiers came.’
‘Perhaps I could
