Part 16 (1/2)
”Aye,” she said, and her gaze slipped to Connal. Gaelan's gaze lit on the boy, the child's resentment and hatred felt from across the hall. A horrible thought flickered in his brain, wounding his hope. Did O'Rourke and Maguire own a piece of her heart still? If so, what was left for a life with him? He sat back. ”Go abovestairs.”
Siobhan's head snapped around, her brow furrowed.
”And do it with a smile.”
She searched his features, glacial, sharp, the thin-lidded look of his eyes. What happened to the man who was nibbling on her earlobe a moment ago and begging for a chance? ”Ordering me about will not win me, PenDragon.” She stood abruptly, rounding the chair and moving into the crowd without a backward glance.
Gaelan glared at her back, filled with an impotent blend of anger and helplessness as he realized he was no closer to understanding his mutinous bride than he was the day she opened the gates and let him into the keep.
Chapter 13.
Her figure nearly disappeared into an unlit corridor before he came to her, lightly catching her elbow. Siobhan gazed up at him, awaiting punishment for her insolence. His hand rose and she winced, and though his lips tightened, he simply brushed the back of his fingertips across her cheek, pulling her deeper into the dark.
”We are wed, la.s.s, forever. Why do you fight me so hard?”
”You have demanded instead of asked, husband. You have taken, not earned.”
He folded his arms and stared down at her like a sultan to a slave. ”Did you earn the right to be princess?”
”Aye. My bloodlines do not give me the right. I am no different than them.” She inclined her head to her folk. ”But for two decades, my family fought to keep the tuath free and rule justly. When the clan cannot provide food, shelter, protection, for loss of men and land to raiders, or stolen by an ardri, a high king, then this privilege of leader is lost. We all lose.” She craned her neck to look up at him. ”Many have tried, but none have proven themselves by helping their clansmen. There are those who take from the people, the land, and give back naught. My mother, father, and the elders, taught me that to reap without sowing new is rape of the soul. And to make a body feel less than his rightful place and freedom in a tuath, whether they are indebted or nay, is to make a person feel less of his worth.”
How wise she was, he thought. ”Yet you continue, even after vows that change our lives, to see me as the taker, the thief.”
”You have come hidden behind the banner of a king who knows none of us, who believes we are filthy wild heathens in need of English guidance.” Bitterness tainted her words, though her expression remained gently patient. ”His a.s.sault was sanctioned by the church, but his teachings are here.” She gestured to the friar, deep in his cups and nodding off, and her lips twitched. ”For those who wish to join.”
”Do you believe in the almighty G.o.d?”
She was shocked he had to ask. ”Of course. But I also believe in the old ways, and respect them. You would be surprised to know how many Christian customs came from pagan beliefs.”
”Really?”
She eyed him. ”Ahh, you do not believe.”
”Nay.”
”I will show you.”
She took a few steps farther down the hall he'd yet to investigate, and with her keys, unlocked a thick door. He helped her push it open. The cool scent of age and ill use hit him as she moved into the room without benefit of light, rummaging. Suddenly the chamber filled with light as she set a thick tallow candle on a small table, then opened a chest and carefully removed a book, bringing it to the table and untying the bindings. She pulled a small stool beneath her.
”My lord?” She looked up, motioning.
”I cannot read, Siobhan, only bits.” 'Twas the first time it shamed him, made him feel less than he was.
”This, even Rhiannon cannot read. 'Tis old Gael.” He moved closer to her, going down on bended knee. She tipped the ma.n.u.script to the candlelight and read a pa.s.sage. ”What does that festival sound like to you?”
”Easter.” She read another and he responded in kind. ”Advent. And the other, 'tis All Saints.”
”Sain' Patrick's doing, I'm thinking.” She started to rack the loose pages and close the book, but he stayed her with a gentle hand.
”Read this.” Hiding a smile, she began.
”Nay, in the language.”
Siobhan read to him, relaying the story of Patrick driving the snakes from Ireland. He settled to his rear, bracing his arms on his bent knees and listening. Gaelan did not understand a single word but was entranced with the sound of the words on her lips, her beautiful mouth shaping the strange syllables. She paused abruptly, meeting his gaze.
His brow marred softly at the soulful look in her eyes. ”What ails you?”
”'Twas a book of my grandfather's and very precious to me.” She exhaled a slow breath. ”I am suddenly thankful these will remain with my family, my lord. All of this will.” She waved to the chests filling the room, age wafting in musty scents of herbs and old cloth. ”This is my heritage, and that 'twill not be burned or tossed aside comforts me greatly.”
”Are you saying you are seeing a benefit of wedding me, princess?”
She lifted her gaze to his. ”Aye.”
Her smile was slow and genuine, and if Gaelan was not sitting he would have been knocked to the floor. His heart jumped in his chest and he wanted to see it often and directed solely at him. In that moment, he wanted naught more than to win this strong woman's heart. Yet so much stood between them.
”Connal will be thankful when he is old enough to appreciate it.”
His expression turned sour. ”That is doubtful.” She frowned, and he regretted his discouragement. ”Your son cannot even talk to me.”
”He is a child.” A fraction of sympathy for him lit her features. He had a stepson he did not know how to reach and Siobhan knew Connal's anger was festering, and even she would have trouble staying mischief and maligning if he chose to vent it. ”He understands only what he is told and unfortunately, he heard naught but a jaded view of the English.”
”Where might he have gained that, Siobhan?”
Her chin tipped, rebellion shadowing the private truce. ”Mayhap when I told him an Englishman took his father's life and he would never see him.”
Gaelan's features tightened criminally as he stood. ”Has anyone given you an account of his death?”
”Nay, none of his retainers returned, dispatching to other tuaths, I'm thinkin'.”
Nay, he thought, most were executed for their part in Tigheren's attack.
”He is dead and that is all I needed to know then.”
Gaelan could do no more than nod, guilt falling through him like hot oil, burning away his urge to tell her. He could lose even this small moment, and he was not ready to relinquish this truce even for a moment. Suddenly he wanted to keep the truth at bay with the force of his legions, though he knew 'twas a hopeless wish. He held out his hand and she accepted it, rising to her feet. With one hand, he took the book, placed it in the chest and closed the lid.
”One day I shall clean it out.” She looked about the room, to the chest filled with her son's baby things, with her girlhood. ”I am sure there are some things another could use.”
”Leave it, if you choose, Siobhan.”
She smiled slightly, her eyes suddenly dancing with humor. ”All the bridal gifts need a place to hide, though.”
That reminded him. ”I want you to fas.h.i.+on garments for yourself with the fabrics and trims, Siobhan. They've been in my possession so long, I feared they would rot. And I want to see you attired befitting your rank.”