by June Francis
‘Of course,’ said Constance, delighted to see her. ‘Did you ride here alone?’
Kathleen shook her head, setting her flaxen braids bouncing. ‘Niall said that we were to go nowhere alone. Dara, the O’Toole dwarf, came with me, with his great axe balanced across his knee, ready to slay any of Sil’s men who would dare to approach.’ Her eyes danced.
‘It isn’t funny, Kathleen!’ Niall frowned. ‘Why can you never see danger?’
She wrinkled her nose, and took a piece of bread. ‘Who wants to see danger behind every tree and rock on such a day?’ She tore at the bread. Her eyes were suddenly pensive as they rested on Constance. ‘I have come because I have seen Robin — several times. He wants to be reassured about your welfare, so I promised that I would come. Are you well?’
Niall gave a bark of laughter. ‘Doesn’t she look well?’ Kathleen’s brows drew together as she peered more closely at Constance, who had been about to speak, but was silenced by the concentration in Kathleen’s look. ‘She’s thinner than I remember, and her face is drawn.’
‘That’s only because I ate something that disagreed with me, and I was sick this morning,’ murmured Constance, toying with the spoon in her bowl.
Niall glanced at her. ‘You didn’t say that you were unwell! If you had told me, I wouldn’t have allowed you to watch me schooling the horses in the hot sun.’
‘I’m all right now.’ She shrugged. ‘There’s no need to fuss, Master O’More.’
Kathleen’s warm gaze went from one to the other. ‘I’ll tell Robin, then, that you are all right — and happy?’ Constance smiled slightly. ‘You can tell him that he has no need to worry about me, and that we hope he will be free soon, if the Earl of Ormonde has anything to do with it.’
Kathleen’s face lit up. ‘I shall tell him that you are happy. He already knows about Ormonde, but doesn’t believe that he is working fast enough.’
‘He’ll have to be patient,’ muttered Niall, scowling. ‘Dermot’s been a hostage longer than he has.’
‘Robin’s not a patient man,’ murmured Kathleen, avoiding her foster-brother’s eyes.
‘Hmph,’ responded Niall. ‘He’ll just have to try. When are you returning? I’m going to Connemara in the morning.’
‘So I have heard.’ Kathleen smiled at him, and picked up another piece of bread. ‘I’ll stay till then, and wave you off.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘WHEN THE weather is like this, I want to peel off my clothes and kick off my shoes and dance in the grass,’ said Kathleen, dancing alongside Niall and Constance as they walked to the meadow where the horses grazed under the watchful eye of the O’Toole dwarf.
‘Kathleen!’ Niall rebuked. ‘What are you saying, girl! You speak like a pagan. We are not sun-worshippers.’
‘I do not speak of worshipping the sun, but of finding pleasure in its heat. Butyou speak like an old man.’ She poked her tongue out at him. ‘You have forgotten, it seems, what it is like to be young.’
Niall caught her by a braid. ‘And you, young woman, have taken leave of your senses,’ he responded grimly. ‘I think that perhaps you should return home. You are not fit company for Mistress de Wensley.’
‘Oh, Niall,’ her face fell, and her bottom lip quivered, ‘what is wrong with you this evening?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ he snapped, frowning. ‘It is you who are in the wrong.’
‘I consider Kathleen is fit company for me,’ interpolated Constance, her brown eyes challenging him. ‘At this time of year, I have often had the urge to take off at least some of my clothing. And when there’s a moon sailing across a clear sky, I can believe that there is nothing more delightful than dancing beneath it. And I am not a moon-worshipper, but a true daughter of the church.’
‘You’ve both run mad.’ The heat had evaporated from Niall’s voice, and he sounded amused.
‘Not mad, Niall,’ responded Kathleen, her smile peeping out again, ‘merry! That is how Mistress Constance and I feel on such an evening. Doesn’t such beauty make your blood stir? Mine is positively bubbling!’ She pulled her hair free from his hold and flung her arms wide.
‘Hmm! It’s time I found you a husband, little sister.’ His eyes narrowed as he watched her skip into the meadow.
‘This evening was made for lovers,’ cried Kathleen. She blew him a kiss. ‘It is time you found a wife, big brother, or you’ll be too old, with all your passion spent.’
‘Impudent little wanton,’ Niall murmured, unable to prevent himself from looking at Constance, to find that she was looking not at him, but at Kathleen. His blood stirred at the beauty of her profile. ‘It’s been a long day,’ he said loudly.
‘And you’ll be leaving in the morning.’ Constance turned and faced him. ‘You wish to go to bed?’
Niall almost said, ‘Ay, with you’ but answered instead, ‘It’s too beautiful to sleep, although the sun is going down. See, the stars are already coming out — and you can see the moon just over the tree-tops.’
‘It’s lovely,’ said Constance in a low voice, suddenly caught up in a mood of pure enchantment. They both looked up at the moon.
Kathleen, who was watching them, came over. ‘Lovely or not,’ she said, pretending to smother a yawn, ‘I’m for bed. I may sleep in the hall?’ addressing Constance.
‘Of course. I’ll be with you soon.’ Why not now? A little voice asked inside Constance. She ignored it.
Kathleen blew them both a kiss and went towards the house.
‘I suppose we should be going?’ said Niall, his arm brushing Constance’s shoulder as he began to move in the direction of the stable.
‘Why?’ She faced him boldly. ‘Do you believe that some moon-goddess will come down and snatch you away, Master O’More?’
‘My name is Niall,’ he murmured. ‘And I could believe that she has already come.’ The back of his hand touched her cheek. ‘You are beautiful.’
Her breath was almost suspended, and she had to resort to swallowing before she could speak. ‘You said that very prettily.’ She moved several paces forward.
‘It’s true.’ He caught her up easily. ‘Tomorrow, I’ll be leaving.’
‘Don’t you think I’m aware of that?’ Her voice quavered, and she took several more hurried paces.
‘Maybe you’re glad I’m going, because you’ve said little to make me believe that perhaps you’ll miss me.’ He caught hold of her arm, then stopped. They stared at each other.
‘And why should I be missing you, Niall O’More?’ The words came out as a whisper.
He did not answer, only reaching out to seize her arms as she would have run from him. ‘You said you wanted to dance. Then dance with me.’
‘Wh — What — here? We’ll be seen!’ Her eyes were wide as she looked into his shadowy face.
He smiled, and took her hand to hurry her away and into the trees by the river before bringing her to a halt. One arm went about her waist, while his hand clasped her fingers. His feet forced hers to move, so that she almost fell over them, and only his arm kept her upright. Her breasts brushed his chest in a sensuous buffing, and their thighs often seemed to be on a collision course as they circled in the moonlight dappling through the trees. Only when they came to a silent halt with a kind of dizzy exhilaration, did Constance look up at him.
Niall kissed her, not once but what seemed like a thousand times, one kiss tailing off to mingle with the next — each one more demanding than the one before. It was as though he could not get enough of her.
She drew a shaky breath when his mouth nuzzled her throat and his hands sought every curve moulded by the cotton gown. There seemed no danger in such gentle exploration. She did not resist when he drew her down into the long grass, sweet-smelling and welcoming.
She wanted to forget everything, despite a silent voice warning of the moon’s enchantment on such a night. His fingers stroked her breast through the cotton in such a way that she gave a little moan. He said something sof
tly in Irish, before his mouth found hers again, while he slowly began to unfasten her buttons. Part of her mind recognised that his gentleness was deliberately employed — perhaps he knew that it was a tease, rousing such desires in her as his lips moved to caress the smooth skin revealed each time a button was undone. Milo had never been gentle: his lust had been satisfied within moments. Why did she have to think of Milo now? It reminded her of how cruel men could be, and how Niall had taken her by the bog — not that his possession had been cruel. She was remembering the dream-like experiences she had felt then, and forced Milo out of her mind.
She felt a yearning in her loins, and a desire to roll over and burrow into Niall. Was it sinful to feel such a sensation in the circumstances? He pulled away, and she gasped and held out a hand to him — then she saw that he was stripping off his tunic, and a shiver raced through her. He took her hand, holding it tightly and kissing it before sweeping her fingers across his bare chest, and down. She quivered as their hands, still clasped, moved to hug her hip. Her heart had begun to beat so fast that she felt as though she could not breathe. She did not know what she wanted or what to do. Her eyes closed to shut him off in an attempt to regain control of her spiralling desire. When Niall spoke, she started. ‘We have come so far. Where we go next, depends on you,’ he said huskily.
Her lashes fluttered open. ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered.
‘There is a fire in you that I could light if you wanted. If you wanted, Constance. Do you?’
Conflicting emotions tore at her. ‘I don’t — know-why are you asking me such things — now?’ she cried, suddenly angry with him for going away from her.
‘Don’t you?’ He bit her shoulder, and she squeaked and reared up against him and bit him back.
‘So you are not so passive?’ His expression was one of unholy delight. ‘We are alive, Constance! Alive on such a night! I want you madly, so kiss me as you did by the bog — as if you were a plant thirsty for rain.’ He tugged her hands so that her breasts collided with his chest. It hurt, and she was even more angry. ‘I did not ...’ His mouth stopped the words, and his tongue forced her lips apart. It was a kiss that seemed to draw the soul from her body and into his control. She fought against such utter possession. He lifted his head and ... laughed with pleasure, but she was in a panic.
‘You raped me then,’ she gasped. ‘I could not have responded in the way you say!’
For several seconds neither of them moved or spoke, then Niall sat back on his heels, his naked chest gleaming in the moonlight. ‘I did not force you. You might not have been fully aware of what was happening at first, but if you had resisted, I would have stopped.’
‘I was exhausted,’ she cried. ‘You got me drunk on whiskey! I could not resist.’
‘You could have struggled or pushed me away, but instead you pulled me down on top of you and welcomed me into your body,’ he said softly.
‘I could not have!’ She sat up, her temper rising. ‘What kind of woman do you think I am?’
His eyes glinted. ‘Then? A tired, cold — and hungry — woman who roused my compassion as well as my desire, who was willing to be kept warm in the most enjoyable way there is. I was your heat and your bed that night, as well as your food. Because we wereboth satisfied, I considered you a fit mate for me then, as I do now. I would wed you, Constance.’
‘It can’t be true!’ She put a hand to her head, and there were tears in her eyes. ‘I thought it was a dream!’ She looked at him, and what he had said at last penetrated. ‘Is that how you see me, Niall O’More — as food and warmth and comfort? Well, I tell you now — that I wouldn’t wed you if you were the last man on earth. I — I hate you!’ She was suddenly blinded by tears, and her fingers groped for her gown as she scrambled to her feet. She turned and ran.
At any moment she expected to hear him following. Her heart was pounding as she closed the door of the house and pressed her back to it. After a minute or two, she made out the shape of the bed and the glow of the banked peats. She slumped against the door, and buried her head in her knees.
Tears trickled down her cheeks, and her fingers sought to stem them. Why had he not followed her? Did he not care about her except as a fit mate, a woman who possessed a manor that he coveted? Not one word of love from him! He could have spoken them, even if he did not mean what he said! Well, she knew where she stood — and she would be glad when he left in the morning. Perhaps she would not be here when he came back? All that talk about Sil and there had not been a sign of him or his men — she had only his word that Brigid’s strange behaviour was due to Sil. Well, Brigid was welcome to him!
She heard the rustle of bedding as Kathleen turned over, and she buried her head deeper into her skirts. At last she could cry no more, and went to bed. After a long time, she slept the sleep of the exhausted.
When Constance woke, there was no sign of anybody in the hall. From outside came the sound of voices: Kathleen and Grannia. The memory of last night was vivid. A lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed with some difficulty. She felt sick. Had Niall gone already? Feeling ill, she got out of bed, fighting against nausea as she buttoned her surcote over the cotton gown. She was sick in a bowl before she went outside. Patches of blue showed between fluffy white clouds, and beneath her feet the grass was green and lush. On such a day she should have felt happy.
Both the girls turned to stare at her, accusation in their eyes. ‘Niall’s gone,’ they cried in unison, ‘and he didn’t even say goodbye.’
‘When?’ The remains of her colour drained from her face.
‘We don’t know. He was gone when we got up.’ Kathleen sighed. ‘The dwarf said that he wasn’t in a good mood.’
‘He was downright surly,’ muttered the little man, who was holding Kathleen’s horse’s bridle. ‘And he had the hounds with him.’
‘Did he leave any message?’ asked Constance, feeling faint.
He shook his head. ‘Nearly bit my head off when I asked him where he was going. Didn’t like to speak after that.’
Constance nodded, and turned to Kathleen. ‘Are you leaving now?’
‘Ay.’ Kathleen smiled. ‘I promised Ro — your kinsman, that I would not be away long. I shall give him your message.’ She accepted the dwarf’s help to climb on the horse, and when she was up, she faced Constance. ‘Don’t be worrying about Niall. He can take care of himself, but you look tired, so do rest.’ She waved a hand, and was soon out of sight.
Constance turned away, and without speaking a word to Grannia, went inside the house. Her world had been turned upside-down since coming to Ireland, and she had no idea what to do to right it again.
The next few days passed slowly, and the only happening of note was that she was sick in the mornings. Her suspicion of what was wrong with her was gaining ground. It seemed unbelievable that what might have made her life bearable a couple of years ago was happening to her now. Her thoughts — her emotions — were in total chaos. She went through the motions of living, without noticing what she ate or drank, or caring what clothes she put on. She could only think of what she should do when Niall returned. Whatcould she do? He had said that he wanted to wed her — and having his child would be reason enough for him to rejoice and insist on a wedding. But she was certain she did not want him to marry her for such a reason. So he had said that he wanted her, but she had discovered that that was not enough. Had she not already suffered the depths of an unhappy marriage? She would have liked to reach the heights in the next one. She prayed for a solution to her dilemma.
The weather changed, and it rained. The tedium of staying indoors sewing linen for napkins with Grannia almost drove Constance mad. The days trickled by, and still Niall did not return, and now it was the fear that he might have been killed that tormented her.
One morning she slept late, to be woken by a sudden bustle and noise. Grannia was up, and opening the door to a tumultuous row outside. Constance flung back the covers and pulled on a surcote over her gown. Pe
rhaps it was Niall back, safe and well! Her heart betrayed her by lifting with relief. Then Brigid entered, and her spirits fell.
Brigid came to a halt precipitately, her freckled face was scarlet with exertion, and her eyes were wild. ‘She’s gone!’ she cried. ‘Kathleen and that kinsman of yours have gone.’
‘Gone? Gone where?’ Constance put a hand on the chest to steady herself.
‘One of the O’Tooles came to tell me. Your kinsman’s horse is missing.’ Brigid lowered herself on to a stool. ‘I knew she would do something wicked,’ she muttered angrily. ‘But she won’t find a decent husband now — she has ruined herself.’
Constance’s head spun as she sat on the chest. ‘Do you mean that they have run away? He’s escaped?’
Brigid stared at her as if she had not heard her. ‘I promised my mother that I would take care of her, but she’s always been wayward, never obeying me, but doing what she wanted. But I never thought she would be so stupid! Serves her right if your kinsman discards her.’
‘Brigid, surely they cannot have gone far! They’ll find them.’
This time the girl looked at her fully. ‘They think they escaped during the night. She didn’t come home before I fell asleep, and she wasn’t in the hut this morning. It’s likely she never came home at all!’
‘But Robin was watched. How could he escape?’ Constance was utterly bewildered by his actions. He had never looked at a girl before, yet she could not help remembering how Kathleen had spoken of their meetings, and howshe had seemed to glow. How often had they met?
‘The guards had grown slack. He was never closely watched — they did not consider there was any danger of his escaping. They can’t even understand now why he should want to, because he was well taken care of. And now ...’ Her shoulders sagged helplessly. ‘I’ll have to tell Niall. Where is he?’
‘Niall?’ Constance was suddenly wary. Surely Brigid knew where he had gone. ‘He’s gone to Connemara to see about a horse.’
‘Oh, I’d forgotten! Kathleen told me. What can be done, then?’ Brigid got to her feet again, and paced the floor.