Still, it was worth the chance they were all taking if they could save her. Rory Maguire had wrestled with his scruples,, but he had wanted her so desperately. He had known people, as well as creatures, who had willed themselves into the grave in grief. So he had slipped into the castle that night with the aid and complicity of his fellow conspirators. He had made tender love to the unconscious woman. Afterward, she fell into a deep and natural sleep. But he had gone on his way brokenhearted. Though Jasmine would now survive, she would have no knowledge of their single encounter. Nor was there any chance she would ever love him, or know how deeply he loved her.

It had been a terrible burden on his honest conscience all these years. The priest and Adali had borne the burden too, although it didn't really help him to know that. Their love for Jasmine had been of a different kind. His was the heaviest part of the guilt. He wondered what she would say if she ever learned that he had been her lover for that single hour. She would probably be horrified. He doubted her current husband would be too pleased either. Her ignorance had allowed him to remain in his family home, husbanding former Maguire lands all these years. Better she remain ignorant, and he behave like a man of fifty, and not some lovesick boy. Jasmine would never love him. It had not ever been meant to be. He knew it, and had long ago accepted it. The next few months, however, would be the hardest time of his life, but he would get through it. He had to-not just for himself, but for Jasmine too.

PART I

MAGUIRE’S FORD
SPRING 1630

“Drink isn’t the curse of the Iris. Religion is.”

– Kathleen Kennedy, marchioness of Hartford