Irish: The Irish Princess Part 8

"Dermott stinks and will not be allowed beneath those clean bedclothes until he's bathed."

"But he cries."

"As do you."

His chin jutted. "I do not." The boy's gaze drifted past to meet Gaelan's, and Siobhan twisted.

"I wish to speak with you," Gaelan said.

Siobhan considered shooing him out, but as irritated as he looked now, she doubted he'd comply. She turned back to Connal, kissed him, then stood and blew out the candle. The odor of smoking tallow burned the air as she crossed to Gaelan, looking back to wink at her son, then seal the door.

She walked briskly toward her own chambers. "Do you not have weapons to sharpen, mercenary? The O'Niell is gone, the feasting is done, your garrisons surround us, what more do you wish?"

"To be abed myself." This day was more of a strain than a battle.

She paused on her chamber's threshold, frowning back at him. "Then go, PenDragon. I'm sure my barns will offer more comfort than you are accustomed too."

His lips quirked in a predatory smile. "Oh-ho, nay, princess." He advanced, making her back step into her chamber. "If you think I mean to let you out of my sight, you are mistaken."

"You cannot think to sleep here!" Beyond the gossip that would spread, having him so close led her erotic thoughts down paths they'd no right to venture. And what if he should want to share her bed-how was she to resist?

"I do. For you have proven yourself a deceitful la.s.s." He unstrapped his sword belt, laying the weapon on a table.

The sight of it, its hilt spotted with blood, reminded Siobhan of his caliber, despite his handsome face, and to anger him further would cost her much in negotiation. She'd already stretched her will to the point of shattering and tried for civility.

"'Tis unnecessary. I would not flee without my son. Nor would I risk our lives and leave my folk to suffer your retribution. I swear."

He eyed her. Her word meant naught to him. "Fine. Then I will return to my tents." Her shoulders sagged with relief and he moved to the door, bellowing for Sir Mark and Andrew. They appeared in moments. "We return to camp." The knights frowned at him, yet nodded. "We take the child, Connal, with us."

"Nay." Siobhan rushed to him, gripping his arm. "He is but a babe still!"

Gaelan stared down at her, his expression void of the turmoil he was feeling. The last thing he needed was a screaming child in his camp, but he needed more than her a.s.surances. "He will be treated fairly."

Siobhan did not believe him. "Please." Her fingers flexed on his forearm. "You frighten him."

Her glossy eyes nearly undid him, and he steeled himself against their effect and remained silent.

"Have you no heart?" she whispered, her beautiful eyes robbing him of his breath.

"Nay."

She thrust away. "Very well. Remain in my chambers," she gritted, then snapped her fingers. Culhainn appeared at the doorway, growling at Gaelan, then sauntering across the room to his mistress. She stroked his white coat and spoke in Gaelic to the animal. "Keep a vigil atween us, and should he move during the night, eat him."

Gaelan frowned, waving off the knights with an order to guard the child's door.

Siobhan turned her back on the loathsome man, discarding her cape and removing her circlet, rubbing her head, then unclasping her jewels and placing them in a small chest. "What is the king paying you? Mayhaps-?" She tipped the chest to show the wealth inside, her look inquiring.

"'Tis ten times that worth," Gaelan scoffed, dropping to a wood bench and the task of unwinding his leather cross garters and removing his boots. "I have hundreds of men to pay and house." He looked up, eyeing her from head to foot. "And I have found more than I need right here, for now."

Despite the heat of his look, her chin lifted. "There is naught for you in Donegal, PenDragon."

"And you know my thoughts, my wants?"

She arched a tapered brow. Pillage and plunder came to mind.

"I have more than thoughts of bedding you, Siobhan."

His plain talk did little to unnerve her this day. "And they are?"

"You will know soon enough." Though he did not know himself, not yet, his mind clouded with the moments of delight he'd found in her arms. He'd time to consider the avenues, for the price of Donegal was higher than he ever afforded. "Your attempts at deterring me will not succeed. Give up."

"Never."

He pried off the boots, stretching out his legs to wiggle his toes. "I am losing my generous spirit."

"You have none. One must have a soul first."

Looking up, he set the boots neatly aside, then stood, pulling his surcoat off over his head and flinging it aside as he advanced. "Well, this heartless, soulless b.a.s.t.a.r.d could climb into that bed and share it with you now."

Her gaze remained fixed with his and not the incredibly carved chest peeking through the linen shirt. "You would force yourself on me?"

"I would not have to use force."

The moments below in the hall, his threats to use his tongue and make her beg him to take her beneath him, collided through her mind, warming her skin, stirring her body. "I fear with you there is a faded line atween force and seduction, sir." He was an expert warlord, aware of his enemies' weakest points and battering them till they broke. She admitted it wouldn't take overlong for hers to be burned away in his arms.

Gaelan stepped closer and she did not move. He admired that in her, for she was the only woman, the only person save Raymond, who stood before him without fear. She met his gaze, a storm of emotion in her eyes, and Gaelan's shoulders shifted restlessly. "I will not hurt you, Siobhan. Can you not see that?"

"Nay, I cannot," she said. "You may not have beaten me, PenDragon, but you seek to rob me of my heritage at the cost of my home and my people."

"I have no intention of packing the lot of you up and sending you away."

"'Tis preferred to slavery." She jerked off her earbobs and flung them carelessly into the chest, then kicked off her slippers.

His hands on his hips, he a.s.sessed her thoroughly. "Have you always been this stubborn?"

"A fault I fear, for never having lost a battle."

His lips worked back a smile. "Save your strength for the morrow, woman. You will need it. Now get to bed!"

Flinching, she moved away, struggling with the laces of her gown, and Gaelan caught her shoulders, turning her about.

She faced him, shoving to no avail. "I need not your help."

"You will ruin it." He pushed her around and held her firmly in warning, then opened the row of cord leading down her spine. She was bare beneath, no shift. That she'd lacked the bit of cloth all evening sent imagines blossoming through his tired brain and he brushed the fabric off her shoulders, his sword-roughened hands lingering over the curves. She turned sharply, clutching the garment to her breast. Trapped in her gaze, he let the back of his hands graze the tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s covered in green wool. Her indrawn breath filled the large chamber.

"A war with you is most intriguing, Siobhan."

Her knees softened every time he said her name, husky, as if he wasn't certain he had the right. "I want peace."

He met her gaze. "And what will you forfeit?"

"What will you offer?"

His expression hardened with irritation and he turned away, grabbing a blanket from a stack atop a chest and throwing it before the fire. "You have no right to bargain, Irish." He added a log to the blaze, taking up the iron, stirring warmth into the cold, damp chamber.

"I should sit on a pillow whilst you plow through our villages, leaving a marker to point the way for your d.a.m.ned king?"

He looked up. She was on the far side of the bed, her back to him as she lowered the gown, revealing the slender dip of her spine, a shadowy glimpse of her breast, before she slid beneath the bedclothes.

"I do as I must." Gaelan yanked his shirt off, dropping to the floor and wondering why he simply did not live up to the ogre she claimed him to be and climb into that soft bed with her.

"So shall I." She snapped her fingers and Culhainn dropped to the s.p.a.ce between Gaelan and the fire-and Siobhan and her bed. He eyed the dog, leaning out, but it growled, ma.s.sive jaws snapping, its pale blue eyes glacial with warning.

His gaze flicked to her. The smug little wench sat like a prim sprite in the center of her grand bed, her hair flowing over one shoulder, the covers at her chin and he knew the delights the bulky fabric concealed. 'Twas the source of his trouble, for once tasted, Siobhan O'Rourke was a woman no man could ignore. Not and sleep well, he groused, adjusting his position on the stone floor.

"Go to sleep, princess." A pillow hit him in the head. He glanced up, a faint smile softening his scowl as he stuffed it under his head. She flopped onto the down, her body vanishing under the thick bedclothes. Thank the G.o.ds, for if he saw but an inch of skin, he would be on the bed, his body inside hers without thought to the consequences. Bless me for my honor, he thought.

He'd scarcely closed his eyes when a ruckus beyond the door alerted him. He was there, sword in hand, before Siobhan sat up.

"Reese!"

"Sir, she wants in," came from the other side of the door.

"Siobhan? Are you a'right?" a female voice chimed in.

The sister, he recognized. "She is fine!"

"I'm to believe you, war maker?"

"Get to your bed, woman, afore I lock you in irons!"

"I will do harm to your squire," she threatened.

"Open the door," Siobhan hissed. "She will wake the entire keep!"

Gaelan glanced at her, saw her rebellion and gave in, too tired to argue. He jerked the heavy porta open and glared at her sister, Reese blocking her way and wearing only his trunks. Rhiannon grabbed the lad by the hair, and though she was nigh a hand shorter, flung him aside and stepped into the room. Gaelan blocked her path.

"What have you done with her?"

He stepped back a fraction so she could see. "She is alive and well and nay, I sleep on the floor." He looked at Siobhan. "Tonight." Her color heightened, yet her gaze thinned with angry warning.

"Rhiannon, find your bed," Siobhan pleaded, praying none of the keep knew he was here.

"The people will demand recompense, sister." Her gaze shifted to the Englishman. "You cannot remain in here, knight. Brehon law. She chooses who shares her chamber."

He looked at the princess. "Recompense from who?"

"You."

"And what is this fee?" Gaelan asked.

"An honor-price to me and my family-"

He groaned.

"-and to the chieftains of the tuath, the kingdom."

"What!"

"If you were to bed her-"

"Rhiannon," Siobhan warned, then looked at Gaelan. "I forfeit my reputation with you in here. You pay the price."

"Can you?" Rhiannon asked.

He swung his gaze to her. "The question is-will I? And nay, I will not." Grabbing Rhiannon's arm, he bellowed for Sir Andrew, escorting her out with more force than necessary. "See that she remains with the child." He propelled her into the knight's arms, then glared at Reese. "Clothe yourself," he growled. "We are not in camp!" He slammed the door.

The bedclothes tucked across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Siobhan folded her arms and stared. "Are the English not compensated when you cause an accident? An unintentional death? Or like the injury Sir Owen inflicted on me?"

"Aye."

"Then why do you disregard our laws?"

"Because 'tis the cost of war and the king rules here now!" He raked his fingers through his hair, his head pounding.

"You have much to learn, sir." She tilted her head, considering him. "You chose who you fight for, mercenary. Surely there were other battles the king needed your army for? Why did you come here with no plan to remain?"

Only Gaelan's gaze shifted to clash with hers. Because, he thought, I killed your husband and by right of court battle, what is his, is mine. Yet the words would not come, and it surprised him, this trickle of discomfort running through his chest. But he knew the source, for when she discovered the truth, she'd hate him as purely as she loved her people.

And the thought wounded him down to his blackened soul.

Chapter 8.

Gaelan stirred on the cold floor, still tired. Every time he moved last night, her accursed wolf-dog growled, stealing needed slumber. Rubbing his hand over his face, he stretched, keeping eyes closed, his groin aching with the dull throb of unspent desire for the woman lying naked in the bed a few feet from him. Throwing back the blanket, he sat up, looking around, the sky barely lit with daybreak.

Culhainn was gone.