Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I n the days since she’d been allowed her own chambers, Ciara had held true to her word and had not attempted to escape again. She had not even given it much thought. One lesson she’d learned from her father that she’d held to religiously, was that when you gave your word, you kept it. Ciara thought perhaps she adhered to that lesson more rigidly than her father, but integrity was important to her, even if it wasn’t to him.

Magnus, perhaps seeing she was being true, had granted her a bit more freedom. It was as if she had earned his trust somewhat. She was allowed to roam the castle and the grounds around it, though she did still have men following her around. And she was still not allowed into the village without Magnus to escort her. Nonetheless, she didn’t feel as if she was being shackled and bound every minute of the day anymore.

“I’m goin’ tae find ye,” she said as she stalked through the long, wide corridor of the castle, a grin on her face.

Her guards stood casually at the far end of the corridor watching her, amused grins on their faces. Giggling up head drew Ciara’s attention, and she had to keep herself from laughing.

“Where can Clara be?” Ciara called aloud.

More giggling sounded from behind a barrel in the corner that had been decorated with garland, red ribbon, and candles. Ciara crept along the hallway, pretending to be looking everywhere and confused, drawing more giggles the girl tried to stifle. Ciara clapped her own hand over her mouth and turned away to keep the girl from seeing her smiling and laughing.

That morning, after she’d broken fast with Magnus and his family, they all had had business to attend to, though he had promised to take her into the village later. As she had the day to herself, she had decided to venture around the castle and enjoy the Yule decorations. At some point, a girl who’d seen no more than six or seven summers had asked her to play. Unable to resist a child, Ciara had agreed to play hide and seek with her for a while. It wasn’t as if she had anything better to do anyway.

There were still servants in the corridor hanging decorations for the coming Yuletide celebration, so Ciara had to navigate around them as she played with the girl, who continued to giggle, forcing Ciara to stifle her own laughter. Wanting to keep the game going a little longer, Ciara made a show of looking everywhere but behind the barrel where she knew the girl was hiding. When she finally did get close enough, Ciara reached behind the barrel and shouted “gotcha!” as she tickled the girl. Clara squealed and laughed hysterically as she jumped out from her hiding spot.

“Ye got me,” Clara cried.

“Aye. I did.”

“’Tis yer turn tae hide.”

“I suppose it is, isnae it?”

“Aye,” Clara said and clapped her hands.

“All right. Then turn around and count tae?—”

“Look out!”

Ciara had barely turned around when she was hit by something large and heavy. A loud crash and clatter rang in her ears and her body immediately exploded with pain as she was thrown to the ground. She landed on the stone floor so hard, it jarred her bones. She groaned and tried to roll over but felt as if she couldn’t move. Agony radiated through every corner of her body and her mouth was filled with the coppery taste of her own blood.

A man fell to his knees beside her, his eyes wide, a look of near panic on his face. “Miss, miss, are ye all right?”

Ciara’s vision narrowed to a pinpoint, and she felt as if she was falling from a great height. With her head wavering, Ciara’s world faded to black.

Her eyes fluttered open and as her vision came into focus though, she realized Magnus was sitting in a chair beside her bed, his face etched with worry. Ciara tried to cast her mind back in time to figure out how she’d come to be in that bed, but everything was hazy.

“Wh—what happened?” she asked.

Magnus frowned, his expression morphing from concern to near rage. “One of the bleedin’ idiot servants dropped a log on ye. Ye were immediately brought ye tae yer room when ye fainted, and ye have been resting fer a few hours, but ye seem unhurt, thankfully.”

Some of the fog in her mind began to lift and she remembered a man kneeling beside her on the corridor floor. She recalled that he’d looked scared for her.

Magnus propped the pillows behind her back and helped her to sit up.

“I’m sorry this happened tae ye,” he grumbled. “The bleedin’ idiot?—”

“It was an accident,” she said. “He didnae mean tae hurt me.”

“But he did.”

Magnus’ voice was thick with emotion—more emotion than Ciara thought he had in him. He sounded genuinely worried about her.

“’Twas just an accident,” she repeated. “I should’ve paid better attention tae me surroundings. ‘Twas as much me fault as it was his.”

Magnus frowned. “’Twas his clumsiness and naethin’ more.”

“I shouldnae have been playin’ in the hallway with Clara. Nae with so much goin’ on around us,” she said. “Just… dinnae be hard on the man.”

His jaw muscles flexed as he clenched his teeth, and his eyes were narrowed to slits, but then his features softened. He looked at her with an almost tender concern in his eyes.

“I’m sorry that happened, even though I ken it was an accident,” he said.

He gently took her hand and in that moment, he looked so soft and caring, it was like looking at an entirely different person than the one Ciara had gotten to know over those past weeks. Magnus was a gruff man, one who’d been trained for war and had seen his share of battles. He was hardened. Steely. His hands were enormous and calloused over from the many years spent training and fighting with his blades. His skills in the art of war were undeniable. And yet, he had a soft, gentle touch.

His hand lingered on hers and Ciara felt a rush of warmth spread through her body as her heart tripped over itself. Her mouth grew dry and even though she knew she should take her hand back, she left it where it was, relishing his touch.

Magnus raised his gaze to hers and for several long moments, they started into each other’s eyes in silence. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, goose flesh broke out across her body, and her heart thundered within her breast. She licked her suddenly dry lips, the weight of the moment pressing down on her so hard, the air was driven from her lungs. There was a current of energy, of something that felt almost magical in the air around them. It warmed Ciara from the inside and brought a small, shy smile to her lips.

Magnus looked as if he wanted to speak but he closed his mouth again and looked away and it was like a bubble had burst as the magic of that moment was broken.

“I should go,” he said, his voice thick.

“Aye. I suppose ye should.”

He got to his feet, but his gaze lingered on hers just as his hand had. He seemed reluctant to go. He looked as if he wanted to stay there, with her, reveling in that moment of tenderness, care, and whatever else seemed to be passing between them. But he simply nodded and turned away, walking briskly to the door.

“Get some rest, Ciara,” he called over his shoulder.

“Thank ye,” she said.

The door closed behind him and although she lamented his absence, the memory of his hand on hers and the warmth that enveloped her in the moment kept the smile on her face and the warmth in her belly.