Part 18 (1/2)
She nodded mutely, but made no move to obey.
”Must I strip that hideous thing off you myself?”
”Must you order me about?”
His features pulled taut as her reminder sank home. 'Twas such a trivial thing, her garments, and Gaelan's lips twitched. ”Will you humor a man who imbibed too much and change, my lady?”
Her lips pulled into a small smile that was both wrenchingly sweet and wholly false as she rose from her chair and with a secretive touch to his chest, tipped her head back. ”As you wish, m'lord.”
Gaelan almost laughed at the tightly gritted compliance and caught her against him, softening the request with a gentle kiss. For the briefest moment, her lips shaped his, and he heard the sighs of the women around them and could not resist patting her behind. She yelped, lurching back, muttering something in Gaelic as she fled to the stairs.
Gaelan turned back to the table. Connal sat a couple of s.p.a.ces beyond him, digging his spoon into a bowl of meal and milk, shoving it into his mouth between glares. Gaelan was at a loss as to what to say to one so young-and so filled with anger.
”Connal, would you-”
The boy threw down his spoon and scrambled off the bench, stomping to the doors. Gaelan sighed, taking up a slice of bread and cheese.
”Give him time, sir.”
Driscoll stood off to his right, watching the boy's retreat. He did not tell him he'd no intention of pressing the child, since he had no notion of what to say to soothe his aches. Gaelan popped the cube of cheese into his mouth, then gestured to the seat nearest him. ”What have you to tell me, Driscoll?”
The man's face showed his surprise.
”I didn't believe you waited in the hall to see if your princess survived a night in my bed. What is it?”
Driscoll nodded to the solar. ”I feel there is a need for privacy in this.”
Gaelan frowned, the bite of bread halfway to his mouth. He stood and, taking a goblet of watered wine with him, they headed to the solar. Five minutes later Siobhan stepped inside and he rounded on her.
”Why did you not tell me the raids had been going on for over a fortnight now?”
Briefly her gaze spilled past him to Driscoll and his face reddened. ”'Twas not your concern, husband, 'twas mine.” Siobhan flicked a hand and Driscoll departed. ”And when was I to tell you-when you threatened Ian, when we settled the contracts or mayhaps during the ceremony?”
Her condescending look angered him and he crossed to the chest, throwing it open and withdrawing his sword. ”That will change today. Driscoll reports to me alone.” He fastened the weapon in place. ”You will not handle affairs of war.”
”Aye, you are best at that.”
At her biting tone, he twisted and met her gaze. ”You expected different?”
This is who I am, he was saying, and yet Siobhan detected a plea for understanding. She took a step closer, yet he grabbed his gauntlets of chain mail and left the solar, calling for Reese, his armor and for DeClare and his wondrous sword.
Gaelan reined up. ”Sweet Jesu.” He had seen carnage before, been the maker of it, scented the stench of death, but this-these were not warriors. They were herders and woodsmen-families. His gaze moved over the bodies strewn like rag dolls on the ground, bent back over carts. A child no older than Connal lay under a bench, the wood shattered where a broad sword hacked through the child and speared the earth. Gaelan pulled his gaze away and met Driscoll's.
”My suggestion is to burn it; do you agree?”
Driscoll blinked, shocked at being consulted. ”Aye.” He started to dismount, but Gaelan stayed him with a wave.
”We will tend to it, Irishman. Are there villages nearby, anyone who would have seen this?”
Driscoll frowned in thought. ”A small one, half this size. 'Tis but a half day's ride.”
”Take ten soldiers and seek information.” Gaelan looked at Sir Mark. ”Join him, and answer to Driscoll's will.”
Sir Mark nodded gravely and, with Driscoll, wheeled about and rode off.
A half hour later, Gaelan watched the flames consume the tiny village, his men standing by to see that the fire did not leap to the forest. There was no reason for this. The livestock was butchered along with the owners, so it was not a raid to fatten a man's pens. The few citizens were too far north of the castle to know Gaelan had married Siobhan yet, therefore it could not be a retaliation on him. Or could it? Could this be the Maguire's doing? Would he take his jealous vengeance out on these innocent people?
Gaelan walked the perimeter, his hands on his hips, his gaze on the hoof prints. Firelight flickered off something s.h.i.+ny and he bent, digging in the damp earth. His scowl turned black and he shoved the item inside his breastplate, then headed to his horse.
Siobhan stared out the window, searching the landscape.
”I hope he is dead.”
Siobhan gasped and twisted to look at her son. ”Do not say such things!”
”I do!”
”Connal O'Rourke!” She marched over to his bedside and knelt, tucking him in like a bun in a basket. ”I am shamed to hear such talk. 'Tis mean and a bad omen to wish death on a body.”
”Then I wish it twice!”
She sighed heavily, calling on patience and smoothing the blanket over his tummy. ”'Twill not change matters.”
”If he is dead, it will.”
”Nay. Another n.o.bleman will come and the king will order me to wed him, too. And without an army, we are weak, Connal. Why do you think I let him in without a fight? They are too many, too strong. I could not risk our lives, laddie. Would you?”
Connal was quiet for a moment, then muttered a stubborn, ”Nay.”
”Good. Besides, we have what we need, a roof, food on the table, in your belly,” she said, tickling him. ”And we are protected from invaders, my sweet. Wed to him, I can make certain all are treated fair. With another, I might not. Tuigum?”
Connal turned his face away and nodded, yet she knew her son, knew there was something else on his mind he was not speaking. Unwilling to press him, she kissed his forehead and left.
Siobhan entered her chamber, the emptiness of it making her feel more alone than before. They had been gone for two days with no word. And though she'd busied herself with storing the gifts and providing s.p.a.ce for his things, she admitted she was growing worried. She snapped her fingers and Culhainn slunk from the bed, taking his position on the floor at its foot. Stripping off her clothes and crawling tiredly beneath the covers, she wanted to believe her worry stemmed from Driscoll being with them, that if aught happened to them, she would be facing another of Henry's knights and she was just growing accustomed to PenDragon's face.
She rolled to her side, punched the pillow and sighed. I do not miss him, she vowed.
A minute later she flopped on her back, then kicked off the covers, uncomfortably hot despite the cold spring air.
Fine, she thought. She missed the big oaf. She missed sparring with him, the way he teased her, held her as if she would shatter like fine gla.s.s in his arms. Missed his kiss and the scent and taste of him.
Leaving the bed, she moved to the window, throwing open the shutters, the blast of cold bracing to her hot skin. No man here spoke to her so candidly. No man looked upon her and made her feel like a woman instead of a leader. And she'd lain awake the past night tormented with thoughts of what had happened to him. Had they been ambushed again? Was Ian out there, laying in wait for just such a chance, for her husband to venture out with only forty men? She would not put the matter past him, considering the jealousy she'd witnessed. Had Lochlann defied the king's edict and joined her former betrothed against PenDragon? Nay, she thought. O'Niell and Maguire rarely saw eye to eye on aught, but the thought of them warring on her husband made her s.h.i.+ver. It would be a bloodbath.
The guards called out; the trumpeters hailed. Siobhan strained to see in the dark, then dashed to the chest, flipping it open, forgoing a s.h.i.+ft and wiggling into a fresh gown. Jamming her feet into her slippers, she paused at the oval looking gla.s.s PenDragon had given her and finger combed her hair.
She made a face in the gla.s.s, quickly fastening her girdle. ”I am pitiful, aye, Culhainn?” She looked at the wolf in the gla.s.s, but the animal's only response was a s.h.i.+ft of his eyes. The trumpets blasted again. ”Come, beast.”
Lifting her skirts, Siobhan raced to the stairs, waking the household and flinging orders for a bath and food brought to her chambers before heading outside. Culhainn barked at her heels as she crossed the inner bailey, excitement and relief clenching her stomach. The gates of the outer curtain swung wide, the thunder of hooves and clink of weapons and armor coloring the air. She stood back, her gaze searching the faces, the mounts, for the familiar. Her heart slammed at the sight of the dead man slung over the horse. His soldiers.