The Faceless Woman by Emma Hamm (i love reading .txt) 📕

The tall woman strode toward them with Aisling limp in her arms. He rushed forward, only to have Elva overtake him. She held her sister carefully, propping Aisling’s head against her shoulder. “It will be my pleasure to watch over her until she wakes.”

“She may stay as long as it takes,” Scáthach said, “but he must go.”

Bran shook his head and suppressed a growl. “Where she goes, so do I.”

“Then you will both leave when she wakes. My charity extends only to women. I have housed a man on this isle before, although perhaps not the same as you, Unseelie. I know well the bitter betrayal of man.”

He wouldn’t question it. All knew the story of Cú Chulainn, who had come to Scáthach for training, then had lain with her twin sister and begot a child. There was bad blood between Scáthach and her sister after that, but her nephew was beloved. She sent him to fight with his father as he desired above all else. But Cú Chulainn slayed his son by mistake. The aching wound of guilt never left Scáthach alone, even in her dreams. Now she remained on her isle and trained women to fight, renouncing all men.

Elva shot him a dark look. Perhaps she didn’t want them leaving, but he had not forgotten their purpose. He was so close to freedom that he could taste it. Even Aisling’s wound would not stop him now.

She would do the same if it were her curse. He was certain of it.

He followed Elva into her tent, nearly stepping on her heels in his haste. The sour taste in his mouth and the rolling of his belly would ease if he could just see her. Or perhaps feel her. He had the strangest desire to hold his hand above her mouth to feel her breath on his palm.

That wasn’t normal, was it? He didn’t know what was happening to him. He’d never cared about another person before, not like this. He hardly recognized the emotions when he’d thought his entire life that he had already been in love. And now, he couldn’t focus until he knew she was all right.

He didn’t like it.

The tent flap quietly shushed behind them. Light filtered through the small holes in the fabric, creating a pattern of stars all around them. Leave it to Elva to make a tent in rural Scotland beautiful.

He rushed to the small cot where Elva had laid Aisling down. Hovering behind her, he reminded himself that Elva was family. She had a right to see her sister, to make certain she was alive and well.

Elva huffed out a breath. “If you’re going to lurk behind me, just see her already. You’re driving me insane with all that nervous energy.”

Bran barely waited for her to shift before he crouched beside Aisling. He hovered his hand above her lips, waiting for the faint puff of breath. When he felt a brush of air against his fingertips, all the tension eased from his shoulders.

When he was a younger man, he would have been embarrassed to come apart in front of Elva. He had wanted her to see him as nothing more than a man. Someone who was strong, capable, and impossible to shake. Now, he barely noticed she was in the room as he let his forehead drop to rest on top of Aisling’s sternum.

He felt her heartbeat against his forehead, felt her chest rise and fall, and all was right in the world.

“You scared me,” he whispered. “I know you’re fine, I could feel you were going to be fine, but I still couldn’t shake the dread.”

Slight movement shuffled behind him. “You weren’t like this. This isn’t how I remember you.”

Bran tilted his head to the side so he could see Elva. Discomfort marred her usually beautiful expression. He should sit up, but Aisling’s heartbeat calmed him. Instead, he left his head on her chest and spoke to her sister in quiet tones. “I wasn’t. I was a different man back then, even after you left me. Selfish. Unkind.”

“What changed?” She swallowed. “And don’t give me that bullshit answer that she was the one who changed you. We all know that love doesn’t do that.”

“I’m not sure you’re right about that. But no, it wasn’t her.” He shook his head. “It was you. You changed me because I knew what it meant to lose someone. To piece myself back together in a way I was comfortable with. It was the first time in my life I had to decide who I wanted to be, and not what other people wanted.”

“Losing someone will do that? Force you to become a better person?”

“I didn’t lose you, Elva. I never had you to begin with.”

Bran refused to feel guilty when his past lover spun on her heel and ducked out of the tent. If she wanted to run from their past, he wouldn’t try to stop her. Hell, he’d been running from it for as long as he could remember.

Thankfully, he no longer had to run.

Aisling shifted under his head. He felt the world tilt sideways when one of her hands lifted and settled on top of his head.

“Bran?”

“You’re awake.” He lifted his head, sliding her hand down to his cheek and holding it there.

She was groggy, and her eyes didn’t focus the way they should, but it was good enough. She was awake, alive, and he felt an immense amount of pleasure to know she was still by his side.

“Where are we?” she asked. “I don’t remember this place.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“The Duke…” She shook her head. “I don’t think he wanted to be what he was.”

“No. Some people try to change the fabric of their being so the person they love will return their affections.”

“Is the Duchess even capable of love?”

“Was she?” He shifted her hand until he could press a chaste kiss against her fingers. “That’s a question neither of us can answer. How are you feeling?”

“Groggy,” she whispered.