Irish: The Irish Princess Part 30

"For your sake ... if you must, sister, reveal-"

Siobhan instantly pressed a finger to her lips. "Do not speak of it. You know we cannot." She tipped her head back, a single tear falling. "But he is my lord, my husband," Siobhan said on a gasp, her voice fracturing. And I love him. I love him, she thought, and fresh pain flooded through her. To protect the future of her people, she had to keep her silence, and she knew it would someday destroy her marriage.

"Raymond tells me a stranger approached you," Gaelan said coldly.

She glanced at the knight, her expression clear of emotion before she looked back at PenDragon. "Aye. He was a messenger, asking me to meet with the Fenians. I refused."

Behind her Raymond nodded.

"They came again and threatened my family. I had to go."

Gaelan propped his elbows on the chair arms, fingers steepled, tapping his lips. "You could have come to me, Rhiannon. I could have sent men to protect you."

"That was a condition. And they would not have harmed me."

"Sister, they were Maguires-"

"Nay. They are many clans, my lord, and renounce their tribe to become Fianna Eirinn. And tartans are similar. For warmth, I would even wear your banner."

Gaelan almost smiled, and if the situation weren't so grave, he might have believed her. "You still have not told me why they summoned you."

"They wanted knowledge that would destroy you." She waved her hand over his and Gaelan scowled as the tingling sensation began. His fiery glare sent her back a step.

"You gave it."

She shook her head. "On the grave of my father, I did not."

"It appears to me that these warriors will not let this matter rest."

"In that, at least, you are right."

Her tone implied other matters and his gaze flew to hers. For an instant, Rhiannon saw the wounded beast inside him, clawing at his self-made cage. Her heart wept for his pain, false and unjust, and she could hold her tongue no longer. "Hear me well, my lord." She sank to the floor at his feet, uncaring of the men who looked on, uncaring of the price to her dignity. "Siobhan has reason to distrust-"

Gaelan glanced above her, inclining his head, and Raymond, Driscoll and Andrew departed the solar. Gaelan looked back at his wife's sister.

"Siobhan is loyal to you. To us all. You have already experienced how hard she can fight for her allegiance. Do not make her fight for you."

Gaelan could not mistake the sincerity in her eyes, yet he found Rhiannon's explanations for leaving the castle in secret weak. He admitted he understood why Siobhan kept Rhiannon's ident.i.ty from him. He would have done anything if he could have protected his brother.

"Ian Maguire was the love of a young girl, my lord. Siobhan was forced to set it aside and hence grew away from it. Ian has never forgotten nor forgiven because she chose to break with him and be the armistice of this land to the O'Rourke. And he will forever resent that another man won again. But this is not atween you and my sister ... 'tis atween you and Ian."

Gaelan looked away, wanting to hold on to his anger, for it kept other thoughts at bay. He had by no means set about to believe this woman, for she was odd to start, but Gaelan could not dispatch what she'd said either.

Moments pa.s.sed in silence and Rhiannon stood, gazing down at him where he sat in his big chair. "I accept whatever punishment you deem."

Without looking at her, he said, "In that, woman, you have no choice."

Gaelan waved a hand and Rhiannon left him alone with his thoughts.

He stepped into the darkened chamber and found Siobhan on the floor near the fire, staring at the blaze. She did not acknowledge him, and although the food lay untouched on the table centering the room, she had taken leave of the bath. He walked to his chests, removing his damp tunic and boots, then donned a fresh s.h.i.+rt. Taking his boots, he moved to the fire, propping them close to dry. He stared down at her, her hands clasped on her lap, her hair s.h.i.+elding her face.

Then Gaelan noticed the tears splattering her fists and he groaned. Her head jerked up and he sank to the floor. "Ahh, Siobhan, please talk to me."

She lurched into his arms, clinging to him, fingers digging into his back. "Oh, Gaelan," she cried. "Cast me aside if you must, but keep Connal safe."

He blinked. This was the last thing he expected her to say. "Aye."

"Promise me, swear, to it," she pleaded, tipping her head back to look at him, her eyes bright with fear. "Promise me, if aught happens to me you will raise Connal as your own, protect him. Please!" she begged when he simply stared.

"I-I swear, love, I swear."

Her gaze searched his for a moment longer, as if seeking the truth before she sank bonelessly into his embrace. Her vehemence troubled him, like her sister's premonitions. She spoke as if she would not live to see the child grow. Such a valued trust she gave, the life of her child, and even as he cherished it, Gaelan tried to piece together the puzzle of this woman, frowning as his mind pulled together the fragments that now included Connal. Driscoll said she'd birthed Connal in an abbey, detained there for the winter snow.

But Tigheran was killed in the spring and she'd showed no sign of pregnancy, according to Driscoll, before she left. Gaelan counted months to weeks, then came to a troubling conclusion.

Connal was not Tigheran's son.

Siobhan found Gaelan in the tiltyard the next morning and her heart skipped at the sight of Connal astride Grayfalk. She raced to Gaelan's side, but he did not look at her, his eyes on the horse and boy. He held a lead rope and rotated as the horse circled in a perfect ring.

"Do you not think Grayfalk is a bit large for him to take his first ride upon?"

"I trust the mount, Siobhan. And look at him, he has a fine seat." Siobhan did look and Connal smiled, his mind and body concentrating on keeping in the huge saddle, posting with the jolt of the horse. He looked like a leprechaun atop a mountain of horseflesh.

"Do not let him see your fear," Gaelan warned. "It took me all morn to get him to even approach the animal."

"'Tis no wonder."

Her son looked so proud of himself that her heart clenched, and with each turn about the ring, he sat a little straighter and with more confidence. Soldiers and Irish warriors applauded him and Connal beamed. Ahh, she thought, it had been a long time since she'd seen him smile like that.

"Aye, that's it, lad. Good, good. With your knees," he called, then lowered his voice. "Think he is tired? I do not want him so sore he will never get on again."

"He looks so happy."

His gaze darted to her and Gaelan frowned. "Why do you weep?"

"I do not weep." She swallowed, blinking back the burn of tears. "I did not realize how much he would enjoy having a man's attention."

Gaelan's shoulders sagged. "He is a good boy, Siobhan, but coddled by women, he will be too soft for the reins of Donegal."

"I know."

Gaelan halted Grayfalk, striding quickly to Connal and lifting him from the saddle. "Enough for today. Walk about and stretch your legs. Do not sit for a while or you will not like sitting here"-he patted the saddle-"in the morn."

"I can do it again?"

Gaelan knelt. "Aye and someday, when you have practiced, I will see you have your own mount. But," he warned, when Connal looked ready to explode with joy, "you must first learn to care for it." Connal nodded and Gaelan motioned to Reese, unclipping the lead rope and coiling it before handing it to the squire.

"Show Connal how you clean hooves and curry. But he is not allowed near."

"Aye, my lord." Reese looked down at Connal. "Come along, then." He thrust the keel of lead rope at Connal. "Do yer part." Connal smiled as he took it, and Siobhan and Gaelan watched him go, his short little legs desperate to keep up with the strapping squire.

She dragged her gaze from the stable and met his.

He simply stared, his mind working over his discovery of last night. "Siobhan."

"Aye." She waited and waited, a strange look pa.s.sing over his features. "My lord?"

All Gaelan could think, all he could see in his mind was Siobhan in Ian's arms, her body growing large with his child. Did she have an affair with him after Tigheran left or before the man died? Or was the boy in truth O'Rourke's and he was tormenting himself over naught? There was only a few weeks' discrepancy and he knew that with births, he could be wrong, for of all the things he understood, the least of which was women and pregnancy.

"Never mind."

"You are certain there is not something you wish to say? Since you departed this morn afore I woke-" Her voice lowered. "Would you not like to accuse me of betraying you afore the entire keep and not just within earshot of your knights?"

Her tone held the sting of a wound, and no matter what he was feeling, Gaelan experienced the uncontrollable need to soothe it. "Siobhan, I did-"

"Nay," she cut in, too hurt to hear even an apology right now, especially not in public. "Just keep your promise to Connal."

She turned away, scarcely noticing the completed barracks, the extension to the stables and new roofs to most of the outer buildings. Nor the archery targets and quintain, or the masoners slavering mortar and mud into the gaps around the fitted stones.

She noticed naught, except the breaking of her heart, piece by piece.

For two days they went through the motions, wooden around each other, fragile. Speaking when spoken to and no more. She tended him as any wife would: at meals, his bath, seeing his clothes prepared, his wine sweetened. Yet her smiles were brittle and false and each one cut through to his soul.

Siobhan festered in hurt, waiting for his apology.

Gaelan wallowed in doubt and suspicion, hating himself for it.

Each night they lay in their bed, together yet apart, hungering but not taking, neither willing to reach out and touch, longing hidden in stony silence and shadows.

Siobhan rushed to Gaelan's side as the gate swung open.

"We spotted them an hour ago. 'Tis the O'Niell."

"You would let him in?"

"He comes with a gift from the king."

"Lochlann?"

He smirked but did not meet her gaze. "Startled me too."

"Why would Henry send a gift?"

Gaelan glanced down at her, expecting her to be eager and finding only mild curiosity.

Lochlann O'Niell rode between the gates and slipped from his mount, opening his arms to her, expecting her to throw herself at him as she had before. When she merely stepped forward and pecked his cheek, he frowned, his gaze shooting between husband and wife.

Stepping back, he said, "Imagine my surprise when I was in Dublin and bid bring this to the PenDragon's new bride." Lochlann gestured, and a soldier led a beautiful honey-colored mare forward.

"For me?" She looked at Gaelan and he nodded.

"Did I not tell you Henry would be pleased?"

"Aye, you did, husband," she said, then looked back at the horse, stepping closer. The mount was cloaked in the king's banner, bright red ribbons woven into the mane and tail.

"For you, Lord Donegal." Lochlann handed PenDragon a missive bearing the royal seal. "And there is this, Siobhan." He gestured, and his man presented an ornate saddle. "I told him you preferred astride."

Gaelan chuckled without humor. "Only Henry would answer the whims of a woman," he said, and Siobhan's gaze shot to his.

"You have."

"Lately to my contrition," he muttered.

Siobhan felt struck across the face by his words. Gaelan instantly regretted his callousness and reached for her, yet she back stepped, her eyes burning between hurt and anger. Instantly she turned her back on him, moving to Lochlann as Gaelan barked for Reese.

Siobhan looked wistfully at the creature as squire Reese drew it away, then to Lochlann. "Come break bread with us, brother."

Lochlann glanced between the two, wondering why Siobhan did not mount the creature and test her head now, but kept his mouth shut and walked beside her to the keep.

'Twas obvious to him, the alliance of O'Rourke and PenDragon was not a happy one.

"You must destroy them all," Lochlann insisted.

Gaelan shook his head. "You seek a bloodbath. To what end, man?"

"My lord," Lochlann said, hitching his rear on the edge of the desk, "four villages have-"

"Five," Driscoll added.

Lochlann's expression grew more grave. "They hide like vultures. I suggest we position about the villages as yet unhit and catch them."

Gaelan sighed. "We have done that without success. They vanish into the hillside and leave no trail." G.o.d above, Gaelan thought. It was as if they sank into the earth and were covered by trees. The trails simply ended. "Half were left untouched, only the livestock taken."

"And three have been left bloodied to the ground!" Lochlann shouted, straightening. "You are lord here now. Do something afore there is naught left of Donegal or-"

"Or what, Lochlann?" Siobhan said from the doorway, and heads swung around.