“I should have gone to her. It leaped at me, and then I screamed, and screamed and screamed. Even when it fell back as if it had struck a wall, I screamed. Then it all went to black. I did nothing but scream while my mother lay bleeding.”
“You’re not stupid,” he said flatly. “You know you were in shock. You know that what you saw was the same as being struck a stunning physical blow. Nothing you could have done would have saved your mother.”
“How could I leave her there, Cian? Just leave her there.” Tears spilled from her eyes to slide down her cheeks. “I loved her more than anything in this world.”
“Because your mind couldn’t cope with what you saw, with what was—to you—impossible. She was already dead, before you came into the room. She was dead, Moira, the moment you heard her scream.”
“How can you be sure? If—”
“They were assassins. They would have killed her instantly. What came after was indulgence, but death was the goal.”
Now he took her cold hands in his to warm them. “She would have had only a moment to feel afraid, to feel the pain. The rest, she was beyond the rest of it.”
She went very still, stared hard into his eyes. “Will you swear to me you believe that?”
“It’s not a matter of believing, but knowing. I can swear that to you. If they’d wanted to torture her, they’d have taken her somewhere where they could have taken their time. What you saw was a cover-up. Wild animals, it would have been said. The way it was with your father.”
She let out a long breath, then another as she saw the horrible logic of it. “I’ve been sick at the thought that she might have been alive when I got there. Still alive while they tore at her. It’s somehow easier to know she wasn’t.”
She knuckled a tear away. “I’m sorry I called you a bastard.”
“I pissed you off.”
“With cool deliberation. I haven’t spoken of that night to anyone before this. I couldn’t pull it out of me and look at it, speak of it.”
“Now you have.”
“Maybe now that I have I won’t see her the way she was that night. Maybe I’ll see her as she was when she was alive, and happy. All those paintings I have inside my head of her, instead of that last one. Would you hold on to me for a bit?”
He sat, put his arm around her, stroked her hair when she rested her head on his shoulder. “I feel better that I’ve told you. It was kind of you to piss me off so I would.”
“Anytime.”
“I wish I could stay, just stay here in the dark and quiet. Stay with you. But I need to go and dress. I need to see the troops off at first light.”
She tipped her head up. “Will you kiss me good morning?”
He met her lips with his, drew the kiss out until it brought a pang to his belly.
She opened sleepy eyes. “I could feel that one right down to the soles of my feet. I hope that means I’ll walk lighter today.”
Rising, she reached for her robes. “You could miss me a little these next hours,” she told him. “Or just lie when I see you again and say you did.”
“If I tell you I missed you, it won’t be a lie.”
Dressed, she caught his face in her hands for one more kiss. “Then I’ll settle for whatever happens to be the truth.”
She picked up her candle, went to the door. After shooting him a last quick grin over her shoulder, she unlatched it.
And opened it an instant before Larkin could knock.
“Moira?” His smile was quick and baffled. It faded instantly when he saw the rumpled bed and Cian lazily wrapping a blanket around his waist.
It was wild rage now that had him shoving Moira aside and charging.
Cian didn’t bother to block the blow, but took it full on the face. The second fist he caught in his hand an inch before it struck. “You’re entitled to one. But that’s enough.”
“He’s entitled to nothing of the sort.” Moira had the presence of mind to shut and latch the door. “Strike out again, Larkin, I’ll kick your arse myself.”