Part 33 (1/2)

He heard Siobhan and her sister inhale sharply and didn't think his throat could constrict any more. So innocent, he thought, swallowing before he spoke. ”Is that your wish?”

”Aye,” he said, as if there was no questioning the matter. ”You are me mama's husband, so I think it right. Don't you?”

Uncertainty lay in the boy's voice and, unable to speak, Gaelan nodded, laying his hand on his little head. After a false start, he said, ”Then you are the first son of PenDragon, Lord Donegal.”

Connal nodded gravely, his expression precious and solemn before he looked up and smiled. ”Good eventide.” He bowed a bit, then took off toward the stairs, the slingshot hitching up the back of his tunic.

Gaelan followed his retreat, then turned his gaze on Siobhan. She was trying desperately not to cry, he could see, and focused on her meal, though she'd already devoured most of it. Gaelan leaned close. ”I could not deny him.”

”I am pleased you did not, truly I am.” She gulped some wine. ”My thanks, Gaelan.”

Gaelan speared a dice of meat with his eating knife, holding it out to her. She nipped it off, chewing slowly. ”Look at me, love.” Her lashes swept up slowly and Gaelan frowned at the turmoil there. ”What?”

She swallowed. ”I still have the sense that you do not trust me.”

”I do.”

”Why? Because I say you should?”

”Because I know you would never betray me,” he responded easily.

Siobhan's heart clenched, her green gaze searching his. ”'Tis a fragile thing, this trust we have, Gaelan.”

”It will strengthen,” he a.s.sured her, concerned over the look on her face, as if something would rent them apart at any moment. His gaze flashed briefly to Rhiannon, sitting just beyond her, suddenly recalling her dark premonition. Gaelan knew he would die if he lost his wife, lose his mind if she did not accept him with his faults and, truly in her heart, forgive him.

She covered his mouth with two fingers, shaking her head. ”'Tis I who have done it.”

He frowned with confusion and Siobhan pushed her chair back and sank to her knees before him. The motion brought heads around, servants, retainers and knights freezing where they stood.

Laughter and music faded to a strange brittle silence.

”What in the devil's eyes are you doing?” Gaelan reached for her, yet she caught his hand, pressing it to her heart and holding it there.

”I am Siobhan, wife of PenDragon, daughter of Erin.” Her voice was clear and bright. ”On this night, afore my clan...” She cast a quick glance at the familiar faces around them before meeting his gaze. ”I swear my fealty to you, my lord husband, Gaelan of Donegal.”

The air snagged in his lungs, his gaze raking her upturned face.

She leaned forward, staring deeply into his eyes, lightly brus.h.i.+ng her fingertips over his jaw, his lips. ”I give you my trust, my life and ... my love. For this world means little without you-” She patted his hand. ”This heart beats for naught without you.” Her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling. ”I love you, Gaelan. For eternity, I love you.”

Gaelan was stunned, his mouth open to speak, but no words came. His throat worked, his heart thundering so fiercely he thought it would explode.

”If 'twere me,” Raymond said into the quiet, ”I would kiss her.”

Gaelan grabbed her about the waist and dragged her onto his lap. Her arms swept his neck and he stared at her, a single finger, trembling and rough, drawing a strand of hair from her face. ”I love you, Siobhan.”

Her eyes watered and she smiled. ”I was hopin' you did.”

His mouth covered hers.

The hall erupted with cheers.

Raymond DeClare threw his head back and laughed. ”'Bout b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.ned time.”

Lochlann stared, tossing back the remains of his wine, watching the couple devour each other in a kiss so pa.s.sionate he felt himself grow hard. Rhiannon blotted a tear with the hem of her sleeve and across the distance nodded to DeClare, then looked at Driscoll, his smile wide enough to split his face.

A faint laughter spilled through the air and Siobhan and Gaelan drew back, looking to the squints and finding Connal there, grinning and hopping up and down. Siobhan waved and laid her head on Gaelan's shoulder.

”You did not have to do that,” he said into her ear, rubbing her back.

”Aye, I did.” She tipped her head to look him in the eye, her fingers lovingly tracing his features. ”You deserved your right to my oath, Gaelan. I gave it once in marriage, I give it now in trust.”

His eyes were unusually bright as they sketched her beautiful face. ”I cherish it, love.”

”I know you will,” she said on a sigh as she snuggled in his arms. The revelry regained its former din, ale spilling to tankards, several toasts making their way around the room.

Siobhan s.h.i.+fted on Gaelan's lap, sitting upright. Her gaze snapped to his, her eyes wide with surprise. ”Husband?” He was hard beneath her hip, the strength of it s.h.i.+elded by his codpiece and tunic, yet she still felt the exquisite heat of him, and tried not to rub herself against it.

Gaelan shrugged, sheepish. ”'Tis your fault.” Then he leaned up, his big hands framing her waist as he whispered, ”And if this hall was not filled with people, I would have you on that table right now.”

Siobhan blushed, her body responding to the softly growled words. ”You need to learn a bit of patience then. You cannot abandon the O'Niell. 'Tis improper and insulting.” With a quick glance, she smiled at Lochlann, and he saluted her with his wine.

”I should find him his own woman to occupy him,” he groused.

”You've someone in mind?” His gaze jerked to Rhiannon. ”Nay.”

He arched a brow.

”They dislike each other.”

That was news to Gaelan, since they seemed amiable enough. ”Why?”

”She does not trust him.”

Gaelan sent her a neither-do-I look.

”She never has, not even when we were children. He sneaked into her rooms and painted her face with dye. It did not fade for a fortnight.”

Gaelan smiled and wondered what it was like to grow up around the same people your entire life, know them well enough to call them all by name.

”DeClare?”

”Nay. And do not even think to suggest another knight. One Irishwoman wed to English is all they can tolerate for now.”

Gaelan grinned, his gaze drifting from his wife to the folk surrounding him. ”Are you sure?”

Siobhan twisted on his lap, viewing the hall. DeClare stood off to the side with Driscoll's visiting sister, hand gestures accompanying Raymond's limited use of the language. Driscoll, freshly shaved like the English, kept a close watch on the couple, but his wife pinched him, pulling him away. Sir Andrew held Bridgett on his lap, his arm about her waist, his hand tenderly stroking her shoulder and fingering her hair whilst he conversed with several men over a tankard. And across the hall, in the far corner, the tall squire Reese and dark-haired Elaine stood a few feet apart, obviously in deep conversation, yet not daring to move nearer to the other.

But Siobhan recognized the hunger in the lad's eyes.

”I expect pet.i.tions of marriage soon.”