“A wilderness, tangled and wild,” murmured Cathal.

“It is not so bad that it cannot be set to rights,” I whispered, touching his neck with gentle fingers. Careful, careful; best if Mac Dara believed his son did not know me for who I was. If it seemed Cathal thought me yet another phantom conjured from his imagination, or some other woman charmed into the form of Clodagh, his father would be less likely to anticipate what was to come. We were still deep in Mac Dara’s realm, and there were only the two of us. I must tread with the utmost caution. I combed and combed, and as I did so I laid my hand on my dear one’s neck, feeling the blood pulsing beneath my fingers; I stroked his temple; I used both hands to ease the tight muscles of his shoulders and heard him suck in his breath at my touch. Now he did nothing to stop me, though his eyes, in the little mirror, were at the same time bright with desire and as wary as those of a wild creature hunted. The worst thing about it was that I did want him, I wanted to touch and kiss and caress, I wanted to be held and stroked and loved. Feelings coursed through my body more powerful than any I had experienced before, lovely, urgent feelings that pulled me toward him as a swift-flowing river might carry a drifting branch. To make a show of my desire for Mac Dara’s sake was wrong, all wrong. Yet if I wanted to save Cathal, that was what I must do. I must convince the Lord of the Oak that I was prepared to go through with his dark bargain.

I gathered Cathal’s hair away from his neck and bent to touch my lips to the exposed skin.

“Don’t,” he said, his tone harsh. “Don’t do this!”

“He said you’d be incapable,” I murmured. “He explained to me that without desire a man cannot father a child.”

“What—” He had spoken without thinking, caught off guard, and now he swallowed his words. “You would not lie with me if he were watching, surely,” he said. “Whatever you are, whoever you are, you must have some sense of modesty. He always watches. There is no way to prevent that.” His glance went to the little glowing mirror and immediately away.

“So you haven’t availed yourself of the women he offered,” I said, trying not to stare at the disc of polished metal. “It would seem you’ve become a scholar instead.” Ciarán’s necklace was in the pouch at my belt. It would be easy enough to slip it around Cathal’s neck now. But not with Mac Dara looking on. If the Lord of the Oak saw me attempting this, he would know I wanted a great deal more than a night in his son’s bed.