Irish: The Irish Princess Part 31

"Or the price will be your keeps on the borders."

"What!" Gaelan said, lurching to his feet. "What keeps?" Siobhan smothered a smile and the men gathered in the solar stood as she stepped inside with the tray. Depositing it on the scarred desk, she offered her husband the first mug of ale, then Lochlann, before serving Raymond, Driscoll and the remaining knights and newly appointed Irish retainers littering the outer edges of the room.

"You said that you did not want to know what came with me in this marriage, my lord." She bent over the table, laying a trencher of freshly roasted mutton, boiled pigeon eggs and onions before Gaelan, and when she lifted her gaze, she found him staring at her bosom. At least he has not dismissed me completely, she thought.

"Surely you jest?" Lochlann said, clearly appalled. "Were there no contracts?"

"I had Donegal. What other lands come with the princess was not a concern at the time."

Siobhan swept around the edge of the table to stand near Gaelan. "I should say so," she muttered under her breath, and he tipped a look at her, his lips quirking a fraction.

He ordered Raymond to bring the contracts and unfolding them, Gaelan gave them a quick glance, pleased he could now read. He looked at his wife, brows high. "Three more? You have three more? Sweet Christ, Siobhan!" He dropped into a chair. "These people have been unprotected!"

"Nay, the Maguire sees to that, and Lochlann. 'Tis their duty to the tuath. Their fee paid in cows."

At the mention of Ian's name Gaelan's expression darkened. "Maguire is not sworn."

"Swearing to the lord of Donegal will not stop Ian from protecting his clan, Gaelan. Nor our keeps." There was a bite to her tone none could mistake, and Gaelan's eyes narrowed on his wife. "'Twill be a matter of time afore he understands he cannot fight the English."

Gaelan did not believe the Maguire was anywhere near swearing his oath to Henry, and that Siobhan failed to mention that the man was still connected to her in clan debt, festered inside him.

Siobhan laid her hand to his shoulder and he snapped a look at her. For an instant she frowned softly, searching his dark, brooding eyes. "If you are worried, I suggest you send some of those men lazing about in the camps to the other keeps. Or Fallon O'Donnel"-she glanced at the Irish retainer-"since his kin live there."

Gaelan leaned forward, forcing her to release him, and rolled the parchment, tying the ribbon thong with such care Siobhan grew nervous. He lifted his gaze and said one word.

"Leave."

Siobhan flushed with anger, yet she kept her mouth shut. He had no right to speak to her thusly, treat her as if she had not ruled this land for years without his army and his b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.ned guidance. Yet she did not want a scene-not now-but there would be one, she thought. Jager me, there would. She bobbed a curtsey, quitting the solar. Outside the entrance, she sagged against the wall.

"My lady?" Brody paused on his way into the solar. Siobhan blinked at him, then forced a smile. "You're looking fine in your English garments."

The man grinned. "Fits me better than furs and rough cloth." He patted his chest and the PenDragon shield there.

Siobhan frowned at it for a moment, then nodded to the solar. "Go, they talk of battle. I am certain you are interested." She pushed away from the wall, quickening her steps, trying to escape the hurt of being cast aside.

First by her husband, now by her clan.

Chapter 22.

Siobhan cooed to the horse, running the brush over her golden honey hide. "Ahh, you're a bonny la.s.s," she whispered softly. "Such pretty legs, so dainty, m'lady." The stallions in the stables stomped and snorted, scenting the female among them. "Beware of that one, eh?" She nodded to Grayfalk, the other knight's steed lining the freshly timbered stalls. "He's got a head as thick as his master."

The horse bobbed and Siobhan smiled, laying her cheek to her mare's wide neck, smelling animal and leather. And freedom. She longed to race, to be the wind and lose herself in the ride. To be anywhere except in this keep, now.

"Mama?"

Siobhan looked up, smiling and motioning Connal closer, Culhainn at his heels. The dog plopped near the door, not daring to come close to the jumble of hooves as her son looked up at the grand charger with wide eyes. Siobhan lifted him in her arms, setting him gently on the mare's back.

"Did the king of England really give this creature to you?"

"That is what Lochlann says."

Connal toyed with the ribbon in the horse's mane. "She is pretty, Mama."

"That she is. What shall we call her?"

Connal looked thoughtful, bending around to look the mare in the eye and nearly tumbling from her back. Siobhan laughed, catching him, holding him before the animal's face. He petted the mare's nose carefully.

"Riona. It means royal, aye?"

"Aye, lovey. Riona, then."

Connal looked at the creature, his expression serious, and Siobhan frowned softly as he stared into the animal's eyes. "Riona, you're a king's gift to my maither. Serve her and only her, aye?"

Siobhan smothered a laugh at his adult behavior, that he tried to deepen his voice a bit. Yet when the horse nodded and then dipped its head low, stretching out one leg, suspicion raced through her.

"She understands," she whispered, clutching her child away from the horse.

"Aye, of course."

Siobhan smoothed his hair back, staring into his eyes. "Keep this secret, son."

"Why?

"Those who would harm you, would use it against you."

"Like my father did with the mist?"

Her eyes flared. "Who told you that?"

"I heard the soldiers speaking of it. But Uncle Lochlann told me. Will you conjure the mist for me?"

"Nay! 'Tis not a toy to be played with at the whim of a child!"

His lower lips curled down, and Siobhan regretted her sharpness, hugging him, apologizing as she pressed his head to her shoulder. His arms swept tightly around her neck, his legs around her waist. Tigheran forbade her to leave the keep in winter and remarked often enough that he'd married into a family of witches. Thank the Lord he never said such afore witnesses, she thought. And now this talent of Connal's would grow as he did, just as it had in her and Rhiannon.

"Do not be afraid, Mama," he said softly. "I will protect you."

Siobhan's eyes burned. Oh, how she loved him and she tightened her embrace for a brief moment. He leaned back and kept leaning until he hung upside down, giggling. Siobhan twirled for him, tickling her son, and dizzily they sank to the straw piles. Connal tickled her back, trying desperately to make her laugh.

"Cease, oh cease, child. Your fingers are bony and I am not ticklish."

He muttered a curse, a funny one of toads and larcenous rats.

"Go ask Nova if the meal is ready, then come back to tell me, aye."

He nodded, scrambling off the soft pile and running to the doors. Siobhan snapped her fingers for Culhainn, yet the dog whined for an instant, sniffing the ground along the walls, then looked at her.

"Go, follow him." The white beast finally lumbered off.

Siobhan laid there alone in the timothy, her thoughts growing sad and dark. She was furious with her husband for the way he'd treated her in the solar, for accusing her of giving her sympathies to Ian. Neither man recognized that if she'd truly loved Ian those years back, naught would have stopped her from being with him. It reminded her that Gaelan had little love in his life, a slattern mother, a cold father, and had lost the only person he'd ever cared about, his brother, and blamed himself. It was a wonder her husband managed to be such a tender lover after so harsh a life, and Siobhan understood where his feelings brewed. But his past did not give him the right to insult and shame her.

She rolled over, catching a pipe of straw and chewing on the tip. She really should be helping with the meal, seeing to Lochlann and his men. But she did not want to be near Gaelan feeling this way. She was afraid she would say something she'd regret.

d.a.m.n him.

His doubt would not hurt so much if she did not love him. Siobhan closed her eyes, laying her cheek on the straw and remembering the feel of his arms around her, his teasing smiles and their sensual game of saying his name. Her heart constricted painfully. She missed him, missed the man trying to win her, the man who looked upon her with affection and tenderness. She missed his bare skin pressed to hers whilst they slept, the way he watched her when she bathed, as if his eyes were the water, coating her body with a sultry look.

She could not hold tight to her anger over the death of Tigheran. It dissipated as quickly as it had come, for she knew, in her heart that Tigheran had been desperate enough to put down Dermott to attempt an a.s.sa.s.sination. And Gaelan was doing as his king ordered. Winning.

Would Ian be the same kind of fool as Tigheran to try to defeat Gaelan? For her?

Oh for the love of Saint Patrick, she prayed he had more sense than that. Yet, who's to know a man's heart anyway? She wed a man whose unfounded jealousy stole his trust in her. And she'd no way to repair it. Long ago the mastery over her heart had been his. From the moment she'd met him, Gaelan possessed part of her soul, held it in the palm of his hand, and with a single glance and angry word, he could wound her. Over and over.

Climbing to her feet, she finished currying the horse, returning, her to the stall and smiling at the stable hands and pages asleep in the corner of the tack room like a pile of puppies exhausted from play.

She frowned at the entrance.

Connal should be back before now, she thought, and walked to the doors. Torches lit the yard, offering little light and more shadows. People milled about, some finishing up ch.o.r.es before the evening meal. Two maids flirted with the English guards, one man stealing a steamy kiss and taking the girl deeper into the dark. Bowmen lined the parapets, ever vigilant on the land surrounding the walls. It was so quiet she could hear the shuffle of the guards walking their posts.

She squinted and saw her son pop through the inner ward gate, skipping his way toward her.

A noise came, crisp and loud, like the crush of stones beneath heavy hoots, and Siobhan sketched the area for the source. A cart rolled away from the wall near the armory, its weight shooting it like an arrow across the slanted grounds.

And Connal was in its path.

Running, Siobhan shouted for him to turn back and he stopped, frowning at her. She pointed. Guards raced toward the wagon and Siobhan watched in horror as her son tried to dart out of the path, but the rocks and terrain jolted the cart in a new direction, as if following him. She bolted, screaming for Gaelan.

Out of the darkness, a figure appeared, running, diving for Connal, tucking him to his body as he rolled and rolled out of the wagon's path. The cart crashed into the chapel steps, shattering and spilling rocks and wood onto the ground.

Then, just as suddenly, Connal flung himself into her arms. Sinking to the ground, Siobhan sobbed into his shoulder, checking him for wounds and hugging him.

"Oh my sweet child, oh dear G.o.d."

"I am well, Mama, really," he a.s.sured her, patting her. "Where did he go?"

Siobhan sniffled and held him back to look at him, then the area around. They were surrounded by castle folk. Standing with her son in her arms, she glanced about, then ordered a guard to search for the man who'd saved her son.

"Did you see his face?"

"Nay, he was hooded, but he smelled like..." Connal frowned, thoughtful. "The herb you put in your bath."

Mint, she thought. "Whoever you are," Siobhan called above the crowd, "I am in your debt."

The crowd parted as Gaelan rushed forward, his glance at the rubble telling him much. Frozen, he stared at mother and son for a moment, and when she looked at him, her face stained with tears, he came to her, enveloping her and Connal in his arms and a.s.suring himself they were unharmed.

"Go inside."

Siobhan met his gaze, her tone imperial. "I wish to speak privately with you." She didn't wait for a response, marching toward the inner gates, refusing to let Connal travel on his own power when he insisted he could.

Gaelan turned, his soldiers a'ready. "Find him." His soft tone bit with the force of a blade across tender flesh and troops scattered. An hour later, unsuccessful at finding Connal's rescuer, Gaelan stepped into their chamber. Siobhan paced before the fire, straw-dusted skirts swishing, bells jingling.

"This was deliberate," she said without looking up. "Connal was with me in the stable and I sent him to Nova, and whoever released the cart heard me tell him to return to me and simply waited."

"Aye."

She stilled, her head jerking up, her eyes hard with anger. "What do you plan to do about it, husband?"

The cold distance in her tone scratched the air between them. "There is little I can, except to keep anyone who has not lived here afore out, make rounds a.s.suring that carts and scaffolding are secure, and keep Connal inside, in his chamber. Under guard."

Imprisoning her son when he was just learning his freedom seemed terribly unfair when he'd done nothing wrong. "You can question everyone."

"I have."

"Then do it again."

"Siobhan-"

"Nay, do not think I will take this lightly, PenDragon. Someone in this castle deliberately tried to kill my son!" She choked on a breath and sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands. Gaelan came to her, sinking to one knee but not touching her. She cried, her hands shaking, and more misery settled in his chest.

"I was helpless. I could not run fast enough. I could not reach him. Oh Lord, my child would have been crushed."

"He wasn't," he soothed softly. "He is fine and laying abed with his lamb and Culhainn at his side."

She looked up slowly, her hands falling away. "Culhainn?" she whispered. "He was at the wall, sniffing the ground and whining."

Gaelan scowled. "Likely chasing a bug."

"Nay, he does not venture into the stables, husband. He's had a paw or two stepped on and does no more than sit at the doors."

"You think someone lay in wait outside?"

"It is a solution."

"Then why did he not alert you?"

"Mayhaps, they walked away. Connal said he smelled mint, like we did in the dungeon. Mayhaps the scent was familiar to Culhainn. I do not know!" When his look remained impa.s.sive, she stood abruptly, the motion sending the chair sc.r.a.ping back. "Do as you must, but if my son is not safe crossing the yard, then he is not safe in this castle, PenDragon. And I will take him to another until he is."