29
IT WAS EVENING before Margaret had a chance to speak with Eoin alone. He had to tend to his shocked and traumatized sister, while Margaret did her best to ease the fears of their son, who’d nearly witnessed his mother’s death before seeing his aunt’s killing of his uncle.
She knew it would be some time before the events of the day were forgotten, but warm milk, a butter cake with sugar and cinnamon, and lots of hugs had gone a long way to soothe the boy’s distress. Eachann was sleeping peacefully by the time Eoin entered their chamber.
A look in the direction of the antechamber was his first question.
“He’ll be fine,” Margaret answered. “I’m not sure he understood exactly what was happening. Frankly, neither did I.”
Eoin looked exhausted, wearily removing his weapons and tossing his cotun on a bench before sitting down on the edge of the bed opposite her chair before the brazier. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know that you were coming for me.” She looked over at him, her eyes wide in the firelight. “You realized I was telling the truth?”
“If I had been thinking rationally, I would have realized it earlier. But thinking rationally and you have never gone very well together.” He explained what had happened when he’d reached Dunstaffnage and Fin’s part in it.
“How is Marjory?”
Eoin shrugged. “In shock, which is to be expected. But I think it is something of a relief. She understood the depths of Fin’s resentment and bitterness better than we did. She lived with it every day and wasn’t surprised that it manifested in violence. I still thought of him as the friend I fostered with, but the war, time, and disappointments had shaped him into a different person.”
“I can’t believe he hated me that much.” She repressed a shiver, and then frowned, recalling what he’d said to her. “What did he mean, I robbed him of a son?”
“I think he must have put some of the blame for his failure to have a child on your knee.”
“Yet he told Marjory she was barren.” She bit her lip. “Do you think it’s true?”
“I suspect it was more in his head than in reality. I think you were an easy target for his rage.”
“He blamed me for coming between you.”
He acknowledged the truth with a nod. “Which was wrong, as we would have grown apart anyway.”
She gave him a long look, arching a brow. “Because of the Phantoms?”
Eoin’s mouth twisted. “You heard that, did you?”
“Is that why you never told me what you were doing? Are you really part of Bruce’s infamous Phantoms?”
He heaved a heavy sigh. “I made a vow of silence. It wasn’t just me I was protecting but the others as well. But I was planning to tell you after I spoke to Bruce.”
It was the piece of the puzzle that finally made everything fit together. This was the big secret he’d been keeping from her. No wonder.
“The men at camp. The ones I asked you about.” He didn’t confirm or deny, but she’d already guessed. “I knew there was something strange about all of you! But I never imagined you—” She stopped, staring at him accusingly. “I should have known you would sign up for the most dangerous job. No doubt you’ve been right in the forefront of everything. You could have been killed. I should be furious with you. But . . .” She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly filling with emotion.
He tipped her chin with the back of his finger, tilting her face to his. “But?”
“But I’m very proud of you.”
He smiled broadly—and a little too smugly. “You are?”
She shoved his chest. “You don’t need to look so pleased with yourself. I didn’t say I forgive you.”
He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing her fingertips to his lips in a timeless romantic gesture. “But will you?” He held her gaze to his. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I should have known that no matter how bad it looked, you wouldn’t betray my confidence. I did know, but it just took me a little while to realize it.”
She nodded. “I think I can see now why you felt you had to keep me in the dark. It is dangerous.” She thought about it a minute. “I guess I’ll just have to trust you to talk about what you can with me. It was never about the details. It was about being a part of your life and feeling like I mattered.”
He looked floored. “Of course you mattered. You were all I thought about, you were what I was fighting to get home to, you were what kept me from sinking into the darkness of war. Without you nothing else mattered.” She must have shown her skepticism because he laughed. “If you don’t believe me, ask Lamont. He can attest to my less-than-sunny disposition the past six years. Without you”—he paused—“the world was darker. You were my light.”
She smiled. “That’s sweet.”
He looked appalled and glanced around, as if worried someone might have overheard. “God, Maggie, don’t say things like that—especially around Hawk.”
“Who?”
He didn’t hesitate. “MacSorley.”
She understood. “War names! Do you have one, too?”
“Striker.”
She recalled the words on his arm. Just something some friends and I . . . “The tattoo?”
He nodded and changed the subject. “What made you decide to come back?”
Her mouth quirked. “I think Eachann has come to like it here. He didn’t want to go, and I realized when I thought about it that neither did I.” She paused. “I didn’t want to keep making the same mistakes, and I intended to come back here and knock some sense into that supposedly brilliant mind of yours.”
“Not always. Remember, I told you once when it came to you I wasn’t smart at all.”
Their eyes met, remembering that day long ago when they’d fallen in love, married, and consummated that love (not necessarily in that order) all in one rainy afternoon. She smiled up at him through watery eyes. “I wish it hadn’t taken seven and a half years to figure it all out.”
He drew her into his arms. “Me, too. But we have a lifetime to make up for it.” He grinned. “Starting right now.”
She smiled, letting him carry her to the bed. “Maybe you’re pretty smart after all.”