Part 34 (1/2)

Gaelan took strength in her words and kissed her, quick and deep and greedy, then buried his face in her throat, inhaling her scent, remembering it. ”I love you.”

”Be safe and come home,” she said, stroking her fingers through his hair.

He would. He had a wife and friends and a family waiting for him. He would vanquish these marauding b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. And this time he warred with his heart.

A shrill cry split the air and Gaelan turned from her. Connal ran, slamming into his legs, hugging them, and he felt his insides soften to powder. No one ever worried over him before now, he thought, bending to lift the boy in his arms.

”I want to go with you.”

”I need you here, to help protect the castle and your mother.”

Connal's gaze s.h.i.+fted between them, his vision narrowed with the moments of youth. Finally he nodded and Gaelan, so moved by the child's heart, clutched him to him, then wrapped his arm around his wife, pulling her close.

”Arm yourself, my love.”

”Here?”

”Please, for me.” It was killing him to leave her, and if he did not think she would get hurt on the journey or want to jump into the fray of battle, he would take her with him.

”I will.”

Culhainn barked, darting around the warriors and knights, whining to join the brigade. Gaelan forced himself to leave her arms, lowering Connal to the ground, ruffling his hair before he mounted the stallion and rode to the rim of the ward.

”You!” He pointed to Culhainn, and the dog stilled and sat on his haunches. ”Do not ever leave her side. Understood?”

Culhainn barked.

Siobhan stared at the dog, then her husband. ”When did you learn Gaelic?”

He flashed her a quick smile, of a.s.surances and white teeth. ”Whilst I was falling in love with you,” he said flawlessly, winking.

Gaelan wheeled the mount about, ordering three squads to join him. He would not leave his wife unattended, nor would he depart until the O'Niell was out the gates. He remained back as Siobhan bid Tigheran's half brother good journey, watching them.

”I must go, but I do not like leaving you alone like this.”

She scoffed with a small smile. ”I am surrounded, Lochlann.” She hugged him, brushed a kiss to his cheek.

He studied her for a moment. ”You are happy, aren't you?”

”If there were no one betraying us I would be more pleased, but”-her gaze swept past him to Gaelan as he donned his helm, the face guard up-”aye, I am well pleased with the outcome.”

”'Tis amazing how the death of my brother has brought such good fortune, eh?”

She didn't care for his brand of humor. ”I wanted to love him, brother, but Tigheran saw me only as the enemy's child.”

”And me as a nuisance,” he said with a wry twist to his lips. He kissed her cheek once more and mounted, his men in a line behind him.

She stood in the center of the yard, gripping her son's hand. With one hand and his knees, Gaelan controlled the high-strung mount, the blue plume s.h.i.+vering, and Grayfalk's powerful legs cutting the earth as the destrier threatened to bolt. He beckoned Sir Niles and Andrew, entrusting them with the care of his family, and bid Sir Mark join them and show the location of the last ambush; then, with a quick glance at her, rider and destrier lurched, trotting between the torchlit ranks of soldiers and knights leaving the outer ward.

Slowly, guards pushed the gates closed and she stretched to catch a last glimpse of him before he led his army south. And she pitied anyone who crossed him this night.

Chapter 24.

Siobhan closed Connal's door, pressing her forehead to the wood. She was thrilled he and Gaelan had formed a bond, yet his innocent questions about Rhiannon were like blows to her heart. His aunt was hiding the truth, and if she did not know the root of the evil spreading across Donegal, she knew who did. For that reason Siobhan did not go to the tower. Rhiannon chose to protect the Fenians with her silence. She could suffer the consequences alone. She'd been duly warned.

After peeking in on Meghan, who'd slept through the entire ruckus, she stoked the fire and cracked the shutters to freshen the air, then left the girl to rest, descending the winding staircase. The hall was empty but for the two servants on their knees, scrubbing Brody's blood off the stones and replacing the rushes. Her throat closed miserably, her mourning silent for the man she'd known since she was a child. Culhainn trailed her heels as she moved aimlessly into the solar, evidently taking Gaelan's orders to heart. Inside the room she sank into her husband's padded chair, curling toward the fire scarcely stirring. Resting her cheek against the beaten leather, she inhaled the scent of him, of sandalwood and man, and prayed he would find the culprits swiftly and return by morning. But she knew he would not.

She feared Ian was at the root of it. Yet beyond the two prisoners who'd refused to speak, they'd no evidence beyond hearsay and some sc.r.a.ps of tartan. Was Ian so bitter that it would twist him enough to kill her clansmen to see Gaelan fail? Without fealty to the king, Ian could lose all he had. And the Fenians ... by all that was holy, she prayed they'd naught to do with this but helping curtail the raids. Hurting the villagers and attacking patrols served no purpose but to brew hatreds and hasty reaction when regardless, the king and his lords would be the final hand of power. With the exception of fifty or so men returning to England, her husband's army was still formidable. And undefeated.

A reckoning is coming and you cannot stop it, the Fenian had said.

Was this the dark pain Rhiannon spoke of, or was there a grand attack on Donegal castle planned? Were these renegade English attacking simply to stir war or to push Ian into giving his fealty? Siobhan wondered, rubbing her temple. The possible avenues were growing quickly.

”M'lady?”

Bridgett stood in the doorway with a goblet in her hand, a length of blue fabric under her arm. ”Some sweet wine?”

Siobhan smiled, nodding, and Bridgett came to her, offering the cup. She laid the blue cloth on the table close by and Siobhan sighed, fingering it briefly and wis.h.i.+ng she could have shown the work to Gaelan. ”You love Sir Andrew?”

Nearly at the door, Bridgett stopped and turned. Her lips curved. ”I like him. He's fine to look upon, but I know he sees me as naught but a serving maid and partner for a single night, not a lifetime.”

The hopelessness in her voice caught her attention more than her words, and Siobhan's brows drew down. ”Think you because he is knighted he cannot wed you?” She sipped, the warmed wine soothing the knots in her stomach.

”Aye, that.” Bridgett glanced at the floor, worrying her ap.r.o.n. ”And I'm Irish.”

Siobhan knew the girl was in love and since she, Meghan, Driscoll and Brody were the only people who'd come with her from her father's household, she would see that Bridgett was treated fairly. ”Do not view each other on steps above or below another, Bridgett. Or he will. And if his heart is true, it will not matter.”

Bridgett c.o.c.ked her head. ”You hated PenDragon when he arrived. How did you find your heart?”

Siobhan's lips curved. ”He showed it to me.” Her eyes danced with mischief. ”And he started with the kissing.”

”Stole a few, did he now?”

She half laughed. ”More than a few.” Oftimes she could sense more of him than another, feel his gaze, his presence, as if she wore him like her skin, and constantly marveled at how deeply his touch sank through to her bones. She was forever bound to him, beyond her heart and into her soul, and she gloried in it. ”I think I have always loved him but was afraid,” she finally said. Afraid of its strength, she thought.

”After the O'Rourke's way of treating you, don't be thinking any of us is surprised.”

Her gaze turned haunted, her tone bitter. ”Tigheran planted more babes in a year than he planted crops.”

Bridgett agreed. ”At least you've got your Connal. Such a bright lad.”

Siobhan smiled tremulously, finished off the wine and stood. Culhainn perked up, alert and on his feet. ”Tell the guards I go to my bed, will you? Meghan is ill and sleeps in our chamber.”