Part 12 (1/2)
Bathed and freshly dressed, Siobhan's stomach was full, her energy restored. Though she was not the least bit tired, having napped far too often in the tower for G.o.d to approve, she could not resist holding Connal in her arms and singing him into a needed rest. She was thankful he had not witnessed the scene in the ward, and laying abed with him, his little arms about her neck, his warm body pressed to her side, she was reluctant to leave. For the inevitable awaited her downstairs.
From her spot in the large chair near the window, Rhiannon cleared her throat. Siobhan met her gaze, then followed the direction of her nod. He stood in the door frame, filling it with his height and width, and she was struck at once by how handsome and commanding he was. A shame, she thought, kissing her son and s.h.i.+fting out from under his hold. Connal sank into the bed with a deep sigh. Dermott wiggled into her warm spot and Connal slung an arm around the lamb. She smiled gently, touching her son's red-brown hair, then drew a breath before facing PenDragon.
”I am ready.”
He dragged his gaze from her child to her, blinking as if in a stupor, then nodded sharply, stepping out and waiting for her to walk ahead of him. The instant she appeared belowstairs her friends rushed her, whispering what a brave woman she was, how proud they were of her, and what an awful beast PenDragon was to her.
She held comment on the last and they scattered like frightened mice when he appeared behind her. Ignoring the bitter amus.e.m.e.nt dancing across his features, Siobhan walked to the solar, Tigheran's rooms, and thought it fitting that the end of her old life begin here, for in this same room her marriage contracts were signed, and in this room, he had announced his intention to go to Dublin to swear oath to the king. She knew it was not for the sovereign's greater power, but what the allegiance would gain Tigheran, that the king would grant him armies to crush her uncle Dermott MacMurrough-as if her marriage of peace meant naught. He, like PenDragon, preferred making war to his home. And wars like they made had taken her parents, her brother, her chance for happiness.
She swiped at the dust on the desk, reminding herself to clean the room, wash away what was left of her husband before the new lord attended. Suddenly, she sank into a chair in the corner, as if just realizing that yet another stranger would ride up to the gates and install himself in her home. She swallowed the thick knot in her throat. PenDragon might not cart them all off to who knows where, but this new lord could. She looked up at him, where he stood near the window, his arms folded over his chest, gazing through the precious gla.s.s Tigheran had paid a ransom's worth of silver to have s.h.i.+pped from France.
She wanted to be away from him, from this chamber and the memories it brought. She glanced at the old bed tucked in the alcove and s.h.i.+vered with revulsion, images of Tigheran, his body pounding hers whilst he called out another woman's name-of him taking maid after maid within earshot or even view of her. She jerked her gaze away and said, ”I've five days' worth of ch.o.r.es to be done, PenDragon. Where is your list of terms?”
”He is coming with them.”
She arched a brow, eyeing him from head to foot. Still wearing his sword, he was attired in naught but braise and a dull white lawn s.h.i.+rt, his boot cross straps laced over his legs to his thighs. The fabric clung like skin, offering the twist of corded muscle, and the mere sight of him moved strange feelings through her and her skin flushed hotter than usual. And when his breath escaped in a soft rush, she sensed all was not well with him.
”Are you not satisfied with my compliance?” She really shouldn't test these waters again, she thought.
”Aye.” Then why did he feel as if he was beating it from her?
Sir Raymond entered, immediately taking his seat, rolling out a piece of parchment, and at Gaelan's gesture began reading off the dictates of King Henry, her fallen position, how many of her men were expected to attend him in battle, the tenant paid to his liege; who could marry whom without royal approval. It made Siobhan ill to hear it.
”Why does he speak this misery aloud?” she interrupted, jumping to her feet. ”I can read.”
”I cannot.”
She blinked up at him and blurted, ”I can teach you whilst you await this new lord.”
He turned, his gaze on the floor, his arms folded. ”I am a bit old to learn.”
”Codswallop.” He looked up and oh, sweet Mary, the tormented regret in his eyes made her wonder if he was at all pleased that she was signing away her life. Then she gasped, ”You're bleeding.” She rushed forward, pus.h.i.+ng back his arm and tugging the s.h.i.+rt from beneath his sword belt.
Raymond stood, his face gone a bit paler.
”It needs attention.”
Gaelan glanced at the top of her head, frowning at her concern. ”My squire will see to it.”
”Like he has with that.” She pointed to the jagged scar running up his forearm. ”Or that?” She nodded to the scar inches from the one bleeding where the st.i.tches had broken during the healing and he had not bothered to have it resewn. ”Sit, sit,” she commanded, shoving the tall carved chair back with her foot and forcing him into it.
”Gaelan ... I...” Raymond started.
”Be useful instead of stuttering, DeClare.” Raymond's lips pulled into a thin line she didn't see. ”Ask Meghan for my herb basket, cloths, and a bowl of warm water. Quickly!”
Raymond left, the hated parchment left on the table.
”Take off your sword and s.h.i.+rt.”
Gaelan smirked with amus.e.m.e.nt and did.
Siobhan inhaled and slid to her knees. The three-inch cut steadily seeped blood. ”Did you not think to cover it to stop the bleeding? Mary mother, PenDragon.” She pressed his s.h.i.+rt to the gaping slice. ”For a man with such prowess on the battlefield, you act the fool.”
Gaelan scoffed to himself, unable to take his eyes off his latest source of foolishness.
Meghan entered, stopping short at the sight of the bare-chested man, then rushed to her mistress, depositing the items on the desk and nearly tripping to get out.
”G.o.d's bones, but they act like scared rabbits around me.”
She pushed his arm back out of her way, and with a fresh cloth, washed and examined the wound, prying at it with silver tongs. ”Mayhaps if you did not look as if you wanted to snack on them, this would change.”
”It does not matter.”
”If it did not, then you would not make comment.”
Irritated with the truth, he snapped, ”'Tis a scratch, woman.”
”I gave you a scratch in the field, sir. This ... 'twould not bleed so well if it was-ahh, and this is why.” She plucked a sliver of metal, holding it up to him before tossing it aside. ”I think Sir Raymond will need a new edge to his weapon.”
”That will please him,” came bitterly.
She threaded a needle. ”Something must, for your swordplay did not.”
”'Twas ... a bit of practice.”
She heard the falsehood in his tone and paused before saying, ”From the look of your scars, sir, you could use a bit more of it.”
He chuckled softly and her gaze flashed to his. For a second they stared, frozen, Gaelan recalling the rage in himself, at her stubbornness that pushed him to battle his dearest friend. She broke eye contact and looked down, taking a st.i.tch, blotting the wound as she did.
Gaelan continued to study her.
”Siobhan...”
”Hum?” She took another st.i.tch.
”I...” What did he want to say? That he regretted locking her away, regretted pus.h.i.+ng her to the point that she would lay down her life for a few words. Or that he wanted her, what this land, these people had when he still did not know what it was? Ahh G.o.d, why do I torture myself like this? Her warm cheek pressed to his ribs, jerking him from his thoughts as she wrapped a strip of cloth around him.
”Heavens. You are huge,” she muttered, stretching her arms to reach around him, then tying it off. Gaelan caught her chin, tipping her face to his.
”My thanks, princess. I have never been tended by one of royal blood.”
She scoffed and tried to pull away, but his hold refused.
Gaelan stood, grasping her upper arms and pulling her to her feet.
”Careful.” She pressed her hand to the wound. ”You will open up again.”
”Open up to me, Siobhan.”