Part 30 (1/2)
”For your sake ... if you must, sister, reveal-”
Siobhan instantly pressed a finger to her lips. ”Do not speak of it. You know we cannot.” She tipped her head back, a single tear falling. ”But he is my lord, my husband,” Siobhan said on a gasp, her voice fracturing. And I love him. I love him, she thought, and fresh pain flooded through her. To protect the future of her people, she had to keep her silence, and she knew it would someday destroy her marriage.
”Raymond tells me a stranger approached you,” Gaelan said coldly.
She glanced at the knight, her expression clear of emotion before she looked back at PenDragon. ”Aye. He was a messenger, asking me to meet with the Fenians. I refused.”
Behind her Raymond nodded.
”They came again and threatened my family. I had to go.”
Gaelan propped his elbows on the chair arms, fingers steepled, tapping his lips. ”You could have come to me, Rhiannon. I could have sent men to protect you.”
”That was a condition. And they would not have harmed me.”
”Sister, they were Maguires-”
”Nay. They are many clans, my lord, and renounce their tribe to become Fianna Eirinn. And tartans are similar. For warmth, I would even wear your banner.”
Gaelan almost smiled, and if the situation weren't so grave, he might have believed her. ”You still have not told me why they summoned you.”
”They wanted knowledge that would destroy you.” She waved her hand over his and Gaelan scowled as the tingling sensation began. His fiery glare sent her back a step.
”You gave it.”
She shook her head. ”On the grave of my father, I did not.”
”It appears to me that these warriors will not let this matter rest.”
”In that, at least, you are right.”
Her tone implied other matters and his gaze flew to hers. For an instant, Rhiannon saw the wounded beast inside him, clawing at his self-made cage. Her heart wept for his pain, false and unjust, and she could hold her tongue no longer. ”Hear me well, my lord.” She sank to the floor at his feet, uncaring of the men who looked on, uncaring of the price to her dignity. ”Siobhan has reason to distrust-”
Gaelan glanced above her, inclining his head, and Raymond, Driscoll and Andrew departed the solar. Gaelan looked back at his wife's sister.
”Siobhan is loyal to you. To us all. You have already experienced how hard she can fight for her allegiance. Do not make her fight for you.”
Gaelan could not mistake the sincerity in her eyes, yet he found Rhiannon's explanations for leaving the castle in secret weak. He admitted he understood why Siobhan kept Rhiannon's ident.i.ty from him. He would have done anything if he could have protected his brother.
”Ian Maguire was the love of a young girl, my lord. Siobhan was forced to set it aside and hence grew away from it. Ian has never forgotten nor forgiven because she chose to break with him and be the armistice of this land to the O'Rourke. And he will forever resent that another man won again. But this is not atween you and my sister ... 'tis atween you and Ian.”
Gaelan looked away, wanting to hold on to his anger, for it kept other thoughts at bay. He had by no means set about to believe this woman, for she was odd to start, but Gaelan could not dispatch what she'd said either.
Moments pa.s.sed in silence and Rhiannon stood, gazing down at him where he sat in his big chair. ”I accept whatever punishment you deem.”
Without looking at her, he said, ”In that, woman, you have no choice.”
Gaelan waved a hand and Rhiannon left him alone with his thoughts.
He stepped into the darkened chamber and found Siobhan on the floor near the fire, staring at the blaze. She did not acknowledge him, and although the food lay untouched on the table centering the room, she had taken leave of the bath. He walked to his chests, removing his damp tunic and boots, then donned a fresh s.h.i.+rt. Taking his boots, he moved to the fire, propping them close to dry. He stared down at her, her hands clasped on her lap, her hair s.h.i.+elding her face.
Then Gaelan noticed the tears splattering her fists and he groaned. Her head jerked up and he sank to the floor. ”Ahh, Siobhan, please talk to me.”
She lurched into his arms, clinging to him, fingers digging into his back. ”Oh, Gaelan,” she cried. ”Cast me aside if you must, but keep Connal safe.”
He blinked. This was the last thing he expected her to say. ”Aye.”
”Promise me, swear, to it,” she pleaded, tipping her head back to look at him, her eyes bright with fear. ”Promise me, if aught happens to me you will raise Connal as your own, protect him. Please!” she begged when he simply stared.
”I-I swear, love, I swear.”
Her gaze searched his for a moment longer, as if seeking the truth before she sank bonelessly into his embrace. Her vehemence troubled him, like her sister's premonitions. She spoke as if she would not live to see the child grow. Such a valued trust she gave, the life of her child, and even as he cherished it, Gaelan tried to piece together the puzzle of this woman, frowning as his mind pulled together the fragments that now included Connal. Driscoll said she'd birthed Connal in an abbey, detained there for the winter snow.
But Tigheran was killed in the spring and she'd showed no sign of pregnancy, according to Driscoll, before she left. Gaelan counted months to weeks, then came to a troubling conclusion.
Connal was not Tigheran's son.
Siobhan found Gaelan in the tiltyard the next morning and her heart skipped at the sight of Connal astride Grayfalk. She raced to Gaelan's side, but he did not look at her, his eyes on the horse and boy. He held a lead rope and rotated as the horse circled in a perfect ring.
”Do you not think Grayfalk is a bit large for him to take his first ride upon?”
”I trust the mount, Siobhan. And look at him, he has a fine seat.” Siobhan did look and Connal smiled, his mind and body concentrating on keeping in the huge saddle, posting with the jolt of the horse. He looked like a leprechaun atop a mountain of horseflesh.
”Do not let him see your fear,” Gaelan warned. ”It took me all morn to get him to even approach the animal.”
”'Tis no wonder.”
Her son looked so proud of himself that her heart clenched, and with each turn about the ring, he sat a little straighter and with more confidence. Soldiers and Irish warriors applauded him and Connal beamed. Ahh, she thought, it had been a long time since she'd seen him smile like that.
”Aye, that's it, lad. Good, good. With your knees,” he called, then lowered his voice. ”Think he is tired? I do not want him so sore he will never get on again.”
”He looks so happy.”
His gaze darted to her and Gaelan frowned. ”Why do you weep?”
”I do not weep.” She swallowed, blinking back the burn of tears. ”I did not realize how much he would enjoy having a man's attention.”
Gaelan's shoulders sagged. ”He is a good boy, Siobhan, but coddled by women, he will be too soft for the reins of Donegal.”
”I know.”
Gaelan halted Grayfalk, striding quickly to Connal and lifting him from the saddle. ”Enough for today. Walk about and stretch your legs. Do not sit for a while or you will not like sitting here”-he patted the saddle-”in the morn.”
”I can do it again?”