“It’s too late for that, Mary. It hurts me now just to think of it.”
Mary smiled as she turned to leave me alone in the spell room. “I know it does, lass. It hurts me to think of ye leaving as well. I’ve come to love ye like I would a daughter. Write to yer mother. It will do her good to know that ye are safe.”
“I will. Thank you, Mary.”
Once she was gone and I could no longer hear her footsteps on the stairs leading out of the basement, I placed the spell book back on the desk and crawled on top of the stool, pulling my knees in toward me as I buried my head and cried.
I wasn’t accustomed to allowing my emotions to affect me so drastically. Living alone for so long, I’d made it a habit of pushing away anyone who dared interrupt my set routines and the comfortable, albeit lonely, life I’d created for myself. If I allowed myself to feel too much, I made myself vulnerable, and that was a feeling that my control-freak personality absolutely rebelled against. Hence why none of the countless men Mitsy had set me up with ever made it past date three.
So, how was it that Eoin had been able to slip inside the confines of my heart so easily? I didn’t know, but I loved him. I knew it without question. But I also knew that it didn’t matter. This decision affected the lives of too many others, and I couldn’t be so selfish as to only consider my own heart.
If no one else were involved—not my mother, not Blaire, not Arran and his love for Blaire—I would gladly cease searching for the ring and stay here forever. But that wasn’t the case, and no number of tears was going to change that.
Drying my eyes on the sleeve of my dress, I unfolded my legs and stood to go and look for a pen and inkwell with which to write a message back to my mother.
I found them quickly and, leaving as much room around the edges of the spell as I could so that we could communicate further if the message worked, I scribbled simply, “I’m safe, Mom. We haven’t found the ring yet, but we are searching. Take care of Blaire. I know she must be ready to return home. I love you. Write back if you get this.”
Inhaling deeply to push back the remnants of unshed tears, I turned and walked out of the room, leaving the message for my mother to see.
It was time to find that freaking ring. Or, apparently, we would all die trying.
Chapter 31
“Come in.” The knock startled him. He’d expected to be left alone until morning. When Arran walked through the doorway, Eoin was sure his face showed his disappointment. Part of him had hoped Bri would seek him out before bed.
“May I talk to ye a moment, brother?” Arran walked through the room, stopping to sit in one of the two chairs situated in front of the room’s fireplace.
Eoin joined him, sitting opposite. “O’course. How did the meetings and training go while we were away?”
“All went well. Everyone in the village has been informed, and they are working together to strengthen defenses. All people outside castle grounds will come to stay at the castle the same night as Kinnaird and MacChristy’s men. We will leave the village empty so that they have no one to attack there.”
“Good. With both clans coming, I’m no so worried about the upcoming attack. How’s the runaway lad been? Is he working well for Kip?” Eoin leaned over the side of the chair and, grabbing a poker, stoked the dulling fire.
“Aye. Kip said he’s caused him no trouble, but there’s little to keep them both busy. I borrowed him for a task once while ye were away. That’s actually why I came to speak with ye.”
The fire now burning full flame once again, Eoin returned the poker to its home and sat back in his seat to look his brother in the eye. “Aye?”
“I spent some time looking for the ring that ye need for the spell. I found it. It was buried with father.” Arran reached out and placed it in Eoin’s hand.
“Arran . . . tell me ye dinna do it?”
Arran stood defensively. “Aye, I could no bring myself to do it, so I had the lad retrieve the ring once we unearthed Father. Ye had to know that’s where the ring was. It was the only place we had yet to look.”
“Aye, I’ll no lie and say I dinna know it was a possibility. But I doona think we need it anymore.”
“Doona need it? Christ, Eoin, have ye gone mad? The lass canna stay here.”
Eoin cringed as the thought of her leaving caused an uncomfortable pain to hit him right below his ribs. “Aye, she can. She’s my wife, Arran, whether I knew it was her that I married or no. If ye hadna gone and pried the ring off of our father’s dead finger, then she wouldna had a choice. I canna lose her, Arran. I’m no going to give her the ring.”