by June Francis
As she looked at Maeve, the tears ran down her cheeks. Damn him! Damn him! He was right. She should never have ridden her so hard. She began to unbutton her cote-hardie with the intention of casting it over the sweating mare, when two hands came round her waist, seizing her tightly. Niall rammed her back hard against his body.
‘Mistress High-and-Mighty-de-Wensley, are you looking at her? See how laboured her breathing is still?’
‘I am not speaking to you,’ she responded vehemently, seeking to prise his hands apart.
Instead, he trapped them. ‘You are stubborn! Stubborn as only a woman can be!’ His teeth caught the lobe of her ear and teased it roughly.
She shook her head violently. ‘You are a brute! A monster! And I told you not to touch me!’
‘You are tempting me to do more than touch you.’ His hands moved with hers still trapped inside, to her thighs, and spread out there.
Her heart began to beat violently, half through fear, half in unexpected excitement. She screamed, attempting to free herself as his fingers pinched up her skirts at the sides. ‘You brute,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘Let me go.’
‘I haven’t done anything to you — yet.’ He dropped his head on her hair.
‘Don’t — do anything — please!’ Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. ‘Why do you do this to me?’
‘Because it pleases me,’ he said softly, ‘and because you tell me not to.’ His mouth brushed her cheek. ‘Face me.’
‘I’ll do nothing of the kind!’ She sniffed in an attempt to stem her tears. ‘You are a swine.’
‘I’m not behaving so badly. I could be worse.’
She was suddenly still. ‘Ohh!’ She closed her eyes tightly as his teeth tugged at her earlobe again. ‘You are a ...!’
‘I know — a barbarian, to be sure.’ He allowed her skirts to fall before twirling her to face him. Briefly his eyes searched her face, tear-stained and flushed.
She twisted her head this way and that, not prepared for the chaos his touch now caused. He seized her chin and forced it round, and kissed her with a complete disregard for her need to carry on breathing. Weakly she hammered on his chest. A couple of deep breaths was all he allowed her before imprisoning her hands in one of his and kissing her again. She was unable to resist when he forced her head back and down until her knees gave way.
She lay on the ground staring up at him, as he flicked her skirts above her knees. ‘Not all women have shapely legs,’ he murmured conversationally, ‘but yours are pretty.’
‘It’s not for you to say that,’ she said in a low voice, struggling to sit up.
He quirked a brow, and tugged her skirts down. ‘I pay you a compliment, and you complain! Nothing I do seems to please my lady.’
‘I’mnotyour lady — and that’s the reason for my not wishing for your attentions. I don’t desire the advances ofany man!’
‘I don’t believe you!’ His eyes looked into hers, and she moistened her mouth. ‘What about Brandon?’ His voice had hardened.
‘Why do you ask about Brandon?’ she said, puzzled.
‘You’re following him,’ he replied tersely. ‘I’ve been keeping a watch on the castle since we parted last night. I had to run and borrow a horse to follow you.’
‘Horse-stealing again, Master O’More?’ she mocked. ‘And you talked about my employing you.’
‘It’s your other horse that I’ve taken,’ he said softly, kneeling on the grass beside her. ‘Now, if you don’t tell me why you’re following Brandon, I’ll ...’ His hand rested on her covered thigh.
She stared at him intently from beneath long lashes. ‘I’m sure you would,’ she said huskily. ‘But I ask myself why you stop to ask me questions?’
He shrugged. ‘I ask myself the same question — but why don’t you just answer mine?’
She hesitated. ‘It’s not for the reason you believe. And I tell you only because then you might go away and stop chasing me.’
He grinned. ‘Why should I? But don’t you think you should stop chasing after Brandon.’ His hand caressed her thigh, and suddenly she had difficulty breathing again.
‘I told you I’m not chasing him! I’m following him.’
‘There’s a difference?’ The grey eyes probed hers, and he moved closer.
‘Of course there is. But,’ she paused to slap the hand that stroked her thigh, ‘tell me whether you learned anything in the cave? I ...’ He stopped the words with a kiss, so gentle, yet so thorough that it caused her lips to part, and she instantly forgot her question.
When they drew apart, they stayed staring at each other. A muscle moved in Niall’s cheek, and he had to clear his throat. ‘What did you ask?’
Constance had to search her mind. ‘Last night, when we followed Sil, did you learn anything about his plans? It could be a matter of life and death! Could you tell me — please?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘YOUR DEATH and my life, Mistress de Wensley!’ Niall declared harshly, his face darkening as he sat back on his heels. ‘That’s what the information almost cost us!’
‘I’m sorry.’ Constance knelt up, her expression downcast, one hand smoothing her skirts. ‘But, I, too, wanted to hear what Sil had to say.’
‘And did you?’ A slight smile lifted a corner of his mouth.
She sighed, and pulled at the grass. ‘You know that he spoke in Irish.’
He made a noise in his throat. ‘So you almost got us killed for nothing!’
She tossed her head. ‘It was you who went down into the cave and had to flee! What happened? Did Sil recognise you?’
He shrugged. ‘I doubt if it was visual recognition — but Sil sometimes seems to know when I’m around — just as I have unpleasant sensations whenever he appears, without having to set eyes on him.’
‘A kind of magic?’ A cold shiver passed through her.
‘Perhaps,’ he murmured, toying with his moustache. ‘But why are you so interested in Sil’s doings?’
She hesitated, still unsure how far to trust him. ‘He and Brandon arc plotting something.’
‘What?’ Niall leaned over her. She lowered her head and tore at the grass, indecision clear on her face.
He hissed in exasperation. ‘You are the most irritating woman!’
‘I could return the compliment.’ She scowled.
‘Unless you tell me what they’re plotting, I won’t tell you what I overheard.’
‘Ohh!’ She tore at a clump of grass and threw it at him. ‘You make me so angry!’
His hands brushed at the blades of grass on his tunic. ‘Losing your temper won’t make me tell you,’ he said softly. ‘I am going to put out of my mind whatever mischief Sil and his band of cut-throats are plotting.’
‘You did hear what Sil was planning to do?’ she asked quickly.
He smiled. ‘Perhaps it’s something to do with your following Brandon to Kilkenny?’
‘Maybe.’ She scrambled to her feet, suddenly remembering the urgency of her mission.
‘Then could it be something to do with the king of England?’ Constance sent him a glance before hurrying over to her horse. He followed. ‘You’re planning to go to Kilkenny alone?’ She nodded, not looking at him. ‘Can you find the way?’
‘It can’t be too difficult, and if I stay on the road, I’m bound to come to it sooner or later.’
‘It could be later rather than sooner.’ He watched her pull herself up on the mare. ‘Really, Mistress de Wensley, you cannot go charging about the country alone. It could lead you into all kinds of trouble.’
Her expression told him how she felt about that remark, and if he was in any doubt, she told him. ‘If you had not taken my kinsman from me, I would not be careering about the country alone.’
He raised his brows to that. ‘That is true — and the reason why I feel obliged to help you. I’ll come with you to Kilkenny.’
‘You’ll come? Why?’ She watched him mount.
He drew alon
gside. ‘I have just explained. I feel responsible for you and, besides, I want to see what you’re going to do about this plot of Sil’s and Brandon’s.’
‘You know what it is?’ she said quickly, feeling a kind of relief.
He smiled. ‘I can guess, if it involves Sil and the king of England.’
‘Then you will tell me what you overheard?’ Now her relief coloured her voice.
Niall pursed his mouth in thought. ‘What would you do with the information if I gave it to you?’
‘I’d take it to King Richard, of course!’ Constance eased her shoulders, taking a deep breath of air laden with the scent of meadow flowers and newly growing grass, and she wished that there was naught else to consider but the pure satisfaction of being out of doors on such a day. ‘As soon as I overheard Brandon and Sil plotting against his life, I decided that I would have to go and warn him.’
‘When and where was this?’ His hand rested on hers a moment. ‘Is that the reason why you decided to follow Sil last night?’
‘Of course.’
There was a silence. Then, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
She smiled without answering his question, but did say, ‘I didn’t go to the Earl of Desmond and tell him, either. I wasn’t sure that I could trust him.’
‘And you didn’t trust me.’ He took his hand away.
She made no answer. ‘It was just before we met in the garden. Sil was overjoyed about the plan. How or when it is to be, I don’t know, but he spoke of men singing songs about the deed. I suppose they would,’ she added unhappily.
He nodded ‘So you ventured out alone to warn the king?’
‘Of course! He must be warned. You can’t comprehend what his murder could mean! It could cause a civil war. I understand that you cannot care that England is bedevilled on all sides by enemies who would take advantage of such an event, but I do!’ She tilted her chin. ‘That is why I must go to Kilkenny.’
He grunted. ‘You might have been better off staying in England, if your heart is still there. Why did you come to Ireland, if you feel like this?’
‘You know why I came to Ireland!’ Why did he sound so vexed? ‘And I still intend living here, if I can. But, at the moment, what I want to do is not important — saving Richard’s life is. I understand if you want no part of it, but I pray that you will not prevent my doing my uttermost to put him on his guard.’ She heeled Maeve into a gallop.
Niall muttered a curse under his breath, and started after her. When he caught up, he asked, ‘Why do you presume that I desire Richard’s death? He is leaving Ireland; that is good enough for me! His death would not rid us of the Anglo-Norman presence, or of the English in Dublin. I doubt that anything could — they have been here too long. Sil might consider it would, but I don’t. As for Brandon, I can only believe that this is a plot to place another on Richard’s throne. Maybe the Earl of March, if Brandon really is his messenger.’
‘That is what I believe.’ She turned her head quickly, glad that he was there beside her. ‘How do you think they will kill him?’
‘I know how theyplan to kill him,’ he replied positively. ‘An ambush. Richard won’t be expecting that. Some of the men from the Leinster counties and Waterford are making the effort to cut passes in the woods. Sil’s henchmen plan to infiltrate the area and kill the men.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t hear any mention of Richard last night, only of this plan to kill the men cutting down trees. I considered it just a senseless slaughter against those who would support Richard. The kind of pointless destruction that Sil likes to indulge in.’
‘My thoughts were of a dagger in some dark passage.’ She gave a reluctant laugh.
He shook his head. ‘It is not so easy to enter Kilkenny Castle and depart. The town is an English stronghold, and there will be many men-at-arms because Richard is staying there. They would not choose that way. How do you think to gain entry to the castle and Richard’s presence?’
‘It should not prove too difficult.’ Her brows furrowed. ‘They will surely not regard me as a threat to the king?’
‘It might not be as easy as you consider it to be. I’d best go with you.’
‘You?’ She stared at him. ‘Will it not be dangerous for you?’
‘No more dangerous than entering Dublin Castle, and I escaped from there.’ He smiled diabolically.
She said nothing. If he wanted to live dangerously, she could not prevent him. Only a tiny part of her would admit that she was glad of some company.
The clouds that had been banked on the horizon had swiftly covered the whole sky, and the first few tentative drops of rain began to fall as Constance caught her first sighting of Kilkenny. A tall single rounded tower drew her attention. ‘What is that?’
‘St Canice’s Cathedral. It’s worth seeing, but we aren’t here as pilgrims. Another time, perhaps.’
She wondered what he meant by that; he was no longer looking at her, but at the bulk of the castle at the far end of the High Street. Her eyes lifted to the standard fluttering damply from one of the towers and she could just make out the White Hart of Richard Plantagenet. Suddenly it seemed incredible that she was here, considering approaching the castle. How would she get in? It seemed mad to think that all she had to say to the guards was that the king’s life was in danger and she wished to see him.
‘What do you wish to do first?’ Niall’s casually-spoken words caused her to jump. ‘Chance your fortune at the castle immediately or have some food and drink while considering how best to approach the task of reaching the king of England?’
She experienced panic. It seemed unbelievable to think that she could gain entry. Still she eyed the castle. ‘I’ll chance my luck. How do I get in?’
‘The main gate is in the south wall. It’s strongly fortified with bastions, a drawbridge and a portcullis, but I don’t consider that the guards will see you as any kind of threat.’ There was a glint deep within his grey eyes. ‘Do you wish for my company?’
She took in his appearance, especially the drooping moustache and the scar. ‘Alone, I might stand a chance of getting in.’
‘I have served my purpose? Do our paths part, now?’
‘You should be relieved that I don’t plan to embroil you any further in this matter.’ Her fingers toyed with the reins.
‘I am.’ His expression was solemn. ‘But perhaps I’ll wait awhile.’
She stared at him suspiciously. ‘You won’t do anything foolish? It isn’t safe for you to loiter here, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘If I were concerned for my safety, Mistress de Wensley,’ he chided, ‘would I have come with you?’
There seemed no answer to that, so she turned from him and went towards the castle. As she approached, she began to wonder if Brandon had arrived in Kilkenny. What could she say to him if she met him face to face? Should she pretend that it was something he had said that had brought her to Kilkenny? He had mentioned the Duke of Ormonde — was he not the justiciar? If she told him she thought it possible that he might be able to help her to obtain Robin’s quick release, that might suffice, but what was the point of worrying? She might not come across him at all.
She brought her horse to an abrupt halt in front of the guards, who were standing, pike in hand. They looked at her and then at each other. They crossed their pikes to form a barrier.
‘Now what is it you’re wanting, mistress?’
‘I would like to see King Richard, if you please?’ she said in a firm voice.
The one on the right eyed her tolerantly. ‘You have papers — a pass?’
‘A — A pass? No. Do I need one?’ Her glance passed over him, before fixing rigidly at a point just above his head.
‘Of course you do,’ said the other man. ‘Else why would we be bothering asking for one?’ His unoccupied hand rested on Maeve’s mane.
‘What I have to say to the king is of the uttermost importance — a matter of life and death! You must let me through.’ She made to move forward, but the man sei
zed the bridle.
‘Now, mistress, none of that. No pass, no entry. You’d be amazed at how many want to see the king of England, but he doesn’t have time to see everybody. You can come back when you have a pass.’
‘But, please, you must let me in! It’s vital! Am I not one of his loyal subjects? Do I not speak English as well as you do?’
‘Better,’ said the man frankly, ‘but that’s not to say you couldn’t be out to knife him.’
‘Do I look the sort of woman who could do such a deed?’ She could feel her temper rising.
‘Can’t tell by looks.’ He scrubbed at his nose. ‘Why don’t you go away and forget about whatever’s bothering you?’
‘I can’t!’ she cried angrily. ‘Oh, why won’t you listen?’
‘What’s going on here?’ Another guard, with a leather breastplate and spiky reddish hair bristling from beneath his steel helmet, sauntered up. Both men turned.
‘Oh, ‘tis you, Captain,’ said the younger of the two men. ‘This wench refuses to move on.’
Constance and the captain surveyed each other. She forced a smile. ‘If you please, Captain, I can’t get these men to understand that this is a matter of life and death. It is vital that I see the king.’
‘Can’t see the king without a pass,’ he replied un-smilingly. ‘Move on.’
‘Ohh!’ She exploded into anger. ‘I have a warning of a plot against his life, you dolt! If any of you had a farthing’s worth of sense, you would take me to him immediately!’
The captain reddened. ‘Now don’t you take that tone with me, wench, or I’ll have you clapped in irons quicker than you can turn round and ride off! Away with you.’
She glared at him, realising that he was not going to give way, and without another word, pulled on the reins and turned away. What was she going to do? One thing was certain: she could not give up her attempt to see the king. Somehow she would get inside the castle. She would not be beaten!
‘So they didn’t believe you,’ reiterated Niall solemnly, putting down his knife to fill their horn cups again.