By Honor Bound Part 28

Talcoran would tell Macbeth, and then Conal, Fionna, and their children would all die anyway, for Macbeth would never believe Conal was unaware of Patric's presence in Alba, or uninvolved in whatever Patric was doing. Elen had heard Macbeth making sarcastic comments to Conal about his brother-in-law often enough to know that. Even she herself might not escape. Macbeth might think she had been helping Patric, because she had once loved him. And Talcoran, would he think she had betrayed him?

There was nothing she could do except follow Patric's orders and keep silent.

She tried to talk to Fionna the next morning, but got only one word out before Fionna put up a restraining hand.

"Say no word to me, nor to anyone else about this," Fionna said.

"How can you?" Elen exclaimed, disregarding Fionna's caution. "By allowing him here, you betray both your husband and your king, and put the lives of all your family in danger. How can you defend him?"

"I swear I didn't know he was coming." Fionna, still weak from her recent illness, burst into tears. "He ismy brother, and I love him. I haven't seen him for five years."

"Five years? Do you mean you have done this before?" Elen was stunned by this revelation.

"We have met here only three times since Duncan's death. Patric comes by sea. There is an old, forgotten entrance into the castle through one of the caves in the cliff below, that he knows about. It is perfectly safe."

"It can't be safe. He is a condemned traitor. Does Conal know about this?"

"I think he suspected the last time, but he said nothing to me. Two of the servants told me he had

asked odd questions about my actions. Conal knows how close Patric and I were and how unhappy I have been about his exile. I think he understood."

"More likely he did not want to know for sure,' Elen said. "Such knowledge could condemn both of you to death, and your children with you. You must never do this again, Fionna."

Fionna did not answer."Where has he gone?" Elen asked."I don't know. He didn't tell me."Elen was uncertain whether Fionna spoke the truth or not. She began to regard her dear friend with neweyes.

Patric was wicked, a condemned man. Elen hated him. She was sure she never wanted to see him again.It was odd that as she went about the business of caring for Fionna and directing the management ofFionna's household, Elen's footsteps took her so often past that door Patric had lurked behind. The doorremained unlocked. Elen knew that, for she had tried it several times. She wondered if Patric's secretentrance opened into that room.

Two nights after Patric's visit, she could contain her curiosity no longer. After everyone else had retired, she wrapped a shawl over her nightdress and crept along the pa.s.sage from her room, the candle she carried flickering weakly in the gloomy darkness.

She found the door she sought, pushed it open, and entered. Holding the candle in one hand, she began to examine the stone walls, running her free hand along the cool, moist surfaces. She could find no evidence of a concealed door.

There were several wooden chests in the room, in which Conal stored his doc.u.ments. They were all locked and were so heavy she could not

move them to search behind or beneath them.She put her candle on the table and stood looking about the room, bewildered. How had Patric entered?"Are you waiting for me?" Patric leaned lazily against the now closed and bolted door.She did not cry out. Something in her had known he would come-had, indeed, been waiting for him."I told you not to come back here," she said. "I am leaving soon." "How did you get in?""That is my secret. Did you think I walked through the walls, like a spirit? I always use the door, my love.

""Don't call me that.""Why not, since that is what you are?" He rounded the table, approaching her. He was too near."You put your sister's life in danger by coming here," she said wildly, backing away from him."Only if you reveal my presence. You won't, will you, Elen?""It is my duty.""I know about duty." His blue eyes rested hungrily on her. His hard face softened. "How beautiful you are. You are more lovely now than you were as a young girl."One huge hand moved to caress her cheek. She pulled away another step."Elen, you loved me once. In the name of that love, keep my visit here a secret."She could not speak. She shook her head and put out one hand as if to hold him off."Elen." He advanced again, trapping her against the edge of the table.

He was now so near that she could feel the heat of his body. She was nearly overcome by the masculine scent of him that she could remember so well from those few pa.s.sionate months of her youth, when all of life had been before them, before everything had been blighted and twisted by war and death. Standing this near to him, the years fled away, and she could almost believe she was sixteen again, and he was twenty.

She swayed toward him, pulled by remembered desire. One kiss, one embrace, and that desire would flare up anew, would consume them both. She could see the answering longing in those blue eyes that never left her face.

He reached out, and his large hands held her face, softly, gently, like some delicate flower that must not be bruised. She knew he would kiss her. Her trembling mouth eagerly awaited his touch.

He was dangerous. She had to protect herself from him, protect her marriage vows. She must be true to Talcoran. She closed her eyes against the sight of Patric, but his face was burned into her brain. She felt his forward motion, knew his lips were almost on hers.

"Talcoran," she whispered, "Talcoran."

Patric dropped his hands. She sensed him moving away from her.

"I beg your pardon, lady." His voice was soft, choked with emotion. "I forgot for a moment that you are not mine. You never were mine. Forgive me."

She drew a deep breath and steadied herself, then opened her eyes and looked at him.

"There is nothing to forgive," she said. "Nothing happened."

"No? I think you are wrong about that." For a moment his expression held the old teasing humor she remembered so well, then he became serious again. "Where is Fionna?"

"Sleeping in her bedchamber."

"Will you tell her I am here? I dare not walk freely about the castle. I was nearly caught the last time." a.s.she began to protest, Patric stopped her. "I am leaving, Elen. I will not return to Alba until I come withMalcolm at the head of a victorious army. I would say farewell to my sister before I go."

Knowing Fionna's love for this man, Elen relented.

"Very well. Remain here. I'll send Fionna to you." She went to the door.

"Elen, wait." He did not move from his position across the room from her, but she felt as if he had takenher into his strong, warm arms. Her eyes filled with tears. "I can be found with Earl Siward inNorthumbria. If ever anything happens, if you need help, send for me and I will come."

The tears trickled down her cheeks, but she paid them no heed. She kept her head high and spoke calmly.

"I am wife to a great n.o.bleman, a man who is loyal to his king. My husband loves me, and I love him.

How could I ever need help from an exiled traitor?"

"So was I loyal to my king, Elen. My rightful king."She pretended she did not see the pain on his face."I hope I never see you again," she said, and left the room.21January to July 1054."Elen, you are so distant from me, even when we are together like this." Talcoran moved restlessly in thebig bed. "You have been this way ever since you returned from Fife."

"Do I not please you?" Elen ran her fingers lightly along his arm and up to his shoulder. He was as firm-muscled and strong as he had been in his youth, and as vigorous in bed, but there was a sprinkling of grey in his thick black hair and his beard, and there were deep lines about his eyes. He pulled her back to him and kissed her again, a warm, satisfied kiss.

"You please me more every year," he said. "But sometimes I wonder if you are merely doing your duty."

"It is not only my duty to warm your bed," she a.s.sured him, "It is also a great pleasure. You are the best of lovers."

"When will you tell me about Fionna?" he asked.

She knew he felt her stiffen. She tried to sound natural.

"I have told you, my dearest husband. Fionna was terribly sick. Briga and I nursed her. She

recovered. We returned to you. A few weeks later, Fionna returned to court."

"And now you scarcely speak to her. Gruach has noticed. Even Conal has mentioned it to me. You were like sisters. Now you are more like strangers."

"It is a woman's thing. It will pa.s.s."

"I have never known you and Fionna to quarrel before," Talcoran persisted. When he got no response from Elen, he returned to his original query. "I want to know what Fionna has to do with the way you treat me. You are no longer truly mine."

"But I am." She began to fondle him. Perhaps if they made love again, that would distract him from such a dangerous subject. "I am all yours. I love you. I do. I love you so much. My darling. My dear husband. "

He responded as she wanted him to do, and a few moments later he entered her, caught up in his intense need for her that never seemed to diminish.

"I love you," he whispered later, "And I know you are faithful, but you are worried and you are keeping something from me. One day I will discover what it is."

Talcoran began to watch her carefully. He was even more observant when Fionna was present. Conal noticed.

"It is only something between women," he said to Talcoran, but the once warm friendship between the two men now also showed strain.

Elen was unaware of the change, nor did she notice that she and Talcoran made love less and less often. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Gruach chided her for absentmindedness, and her children teased her that they had to speak to her twice before she answered a question.

She was possessed by a feeling of foreboding. Patric's visit to Alba had had some purpose other than a meeting with his sister. That purpose would have a result, though what it might be, Elen could not imagine. All seemed perfectly normal, Alba was peaceful, Macbeth was secure on his throne, yet Elen waited tensely. Something would happen.

"We will have war again," Macbeth said. "I have written to Frankland, to hire Norman mercenaries. We will need more men than Alba can supply to fight the huge army the English king is a.s.sembling for Earl Siward."

They were in a reception room of the royal quarters. Elen and Fionna were in attendance on Gruach, and the room was crowded with Macbeth's n.o.bles and their ladies. Lulach and Gertha were present. Both had greeted Elen with a friendly kiss.

"War again," Lulach sighed to Elen. "Why can't they ever do anything but fight when there is a disagreement?"

"This war is being forced on us," Elen said, annoyed at Lulach's att.i.tude. "It is for your sake as much as anyone's, my lord. It is your inheritance that is at stake here."

"We must a.s.semble the largest army possible," urged one n.o.ble, "and destroy this blasted Siward once and for all. If we do not, he will continue to invade us regularly."

"I agree," Macbeth replied. "Let us be done with the English menace so that we can continue our lives in peace."

"And yet," Conal objected, "we might make a treaty with Siward as you once did with Thorfinn. Perhaps you could give him some small portion of land for Malcolm to rule. If you would permit Malcolm to become a n.o.ble of Alba, Siward might be pacified. If Siward's army marches on Alba there will be terrible bloodshed and devastation wherever it pa.s.ses. We could save ourselves much misery by avoiding warfare altogether."

"Aye, that's right," agreed a few n.o.bles, mostly those whose lands lay in the probable path of Siward'sarmy. "Conal is right, my lord."

"No, no," a larger group of men protested. "Siward will not negotiate. He wants to put his nephew on the throne of Alba. Let us fight. We will make an end of Siward now, before he grows even stronger."

Macbeth laughed, throwing back his golden lion's head to let the rich sound pour out.

"Your lands are safe enough, Conal," he said, still laughing. "Surely you don't fear Siward and that stripling Malcolm will unseat you from Fife?"

"My lord, I fear for this land of ours, and for our wives and children."

"I can't believe you have become a coward, Conal." Macbeth's face suddenly darkened with anger. "Have you been suborned by Malcolm's wealthy English relatives? Or perhaps by your traitorousbrother-in-law? Are you tainted with his stench? Would you like to see Malcolm inherit Lulach's placewhen I am gone? Is that it?"

"I only make a suggestion for us to consider," Conal replied calmly. "You have always been willing tolisten to other men's ideas, my lord."