The Betrayed (Echoes from the Past Book 7)

by Irina Shapiro

  Rafael regarded his dagger with interest before shoving it into his belt. A dagger wouldn’t do him much good against a sword or a musket. He’d have to get within a hair’s breadth of a man to sink the weapon into his flesh, and he desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He had no wish to look a man he was about to kill in the face, nor did he think he’d come out of such an encounter without sustaining a fatal wound himself. In truth, he might have preferred a shillelagh, which was a thick club. At least it could be used to block the thrust of a sword, unlike a short dagger, but the men who got the clubs complained viciously, making Rafael question his logic.

  No one seemed to be afraid, at least not outwardly. Everyone talked over everyone else, laughing loudly, and vowing to show the coarse and uncultured Irishmen how to fight. Their foolish bluster grated on Rafael’s nerves, so he left the knot of men he was standing with and headed for the door. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, and his fears, but the prospect of his small, low-ceilinged room convinced him to go a different way. The wall walk was no longer safe, since an arrow or a musket ball could easily find its mark, so he continued up the stairs toward the tower, hoping the door was unlocked. As he passed an arrow slit in the stonework, he saw a single bird wheeling above the castle, its silhouette caught in the moonlight. He thought it was an osprey but couldn’t be sure. He’d never seen one up close. He envied the bird its freedom and wished he could fly away from this oppressive and foreign place.

  Rafael pushed open the door and stepped onto the narrow stone platform. A brisk wind ruffled his hair and he shivered in his thin linen shirt and doublet, wishing he’d had the forethought to bring his cloak. During the day, the view had to be breathtaking, but now, all was dark and sinister, and silent.

  Sensing a presence behind him, Rafael reached for the dagger. He spun around, dagger in hand, ready to face whoever was hiding in the shadows. Aisling’s eyes opened wide as she flattened herself against the stone wall, terrified by his reaction.

  “I’m sorry,” Rafael said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Who did ye think was up here?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all you. What are you doing here? Why didn’t you leave with the others?”

  “I wished to defy Uncle Brian. I was furious,” Aisling replied, her cheeks bright spots of angry color.

  “What happened?”

  “He accused Mary of stealing the cloak pin and the other items that had gone astray, and he ordered her to be punished. Mary didn’t take anything. I told Uncle Brian he’s a fool if he thinks she’s the thief. Mary is one of the most honest people I know.”

  “Has anyone searched Mary’s belongings?” Rafael asked.

  “Aye, but my uncle said that no thief worth their salt would ever hide their loot in a place where it could be so easily found.”

  “But why did he accuse Mary? Surely there must be a reason.”

  “Mary and Shannon O’Rourke were great friends when they were younger. Uncle Brian never opposed the friendship; he’s a fair man and didn’t want his daughter to have airs. One day Lady O’Rourke noticed that Shannon’s ring was gone and had the castle searched from top to bottom. The ring was found beneath Mary’s pillow. Both Shannon and Mary swore that Shannon had given the ring to Mary as a gift, but Mary had been accused of stealing and punished. The friendship soured after that.”

  “How was Mary punished?”

  “Her father took a belt to her in front of Uncle Brian and Aunt Iona. Shannon was made to watch. Mary tried to be brave, but after a few lashes, she was howling like a banshee, saying she’d taken the ring and to please stop hitting her. Shannon felt wretched, since she really did give the ring to Mary. She was too young to understand that it wasn’t hers to give. It was too valuable a gift to bestow on the daughter of a servant. Uncle Brian could have easily said it was a misunderstanding and simply taken back the ring, but he allowed Mary to be punished, mostly to teach Shannon a lesson.”

  “Is there anyone else who might have helped themselves to the valuables?”

  Aisling shook her head. “No one I can think of. The thefts began after ye arrived at the castle.”

  “You think it’s one of the Spaniards who’s stealing?”

  “Either that, or someone is using the Spaniards as a cover. Everyone is suspicious of the foreigners and thinks Uncle Brian is raving mad for taking ye in. Perhaps someone stole Uncle Brian’s pin to get his attention and make him question the wisdom of ignoring the royal decree. He’s putting the entire clan at risk, not only himself.” Aisling sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. She looked tired and frightened, peering into the darkness beyond the parapet.

  “So, you remained at the castle to punish him?” Rafael asked as he lowered himself to sit next to Aisling. “Seems to me you’re only punishing yourself.”

  “I’d no wish to go to McClancy’s.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Patrick Dennehy will be there. He’s Sean McClancy’s kin.”

  “It was my understanding that the clansmen marry only within the clan,” Rafael said. He thought of the clans as separate tribes, but supposed they had to mix with other clans from time to time.

  “Uncle Brian and Sean McClancy are great friends. They encourage marriage between clan members. Ye’ve got to mix the blood to produce strong children.”

  Rafael nodded. His own father had said much the same thing. With their community growing smaller with every generation, it was imperative to bring in new blood to keep the children from being born sickly or mentally deficient. Marriage between first cousins had been forbidden by their rabbi, which was a blessing since Rafael had no desire to marry his cousin Ana, a venomous little besom of thirteen.

  “Patrick is eager for us to be wed. Going to McClancy’s would only give him a reason to bring up the wedding. He wants us to marry before the year’s out,” Aisling said balefully. “Besides, I’m not afraid of the English. They won’t hurt me. The English don’t make war on women.”

  Now, there you are wrong, Rafael thought, but didn’t speak the words out loud. He’d never been in battle, but he’d spent enough time among soldiers to know what men did to the women of the enemy, especially when their blood was up. Men could be animals, and a pretty young woman like Aisling would not be left unmolested if taken by the English.

  “Aisling, if the English take the castle, you need to hide and get away at the first opportunity. You must take to the woods. You know this land; it can be your ally.”

  “Ye’re sweet to worry about me, Rafael, but there’s no need.” Aisling rose to her feet. “Are ye coming down or will ye stay up here for a bit?”

  “It’s too cold.”

  Rafael stood and found himself dangerously close to Aisling. She looked up into his face, her eyes luminous with affection. He knew it was wrong and went against every reason he’d given her for not wishing to take their relationship further, but he couldn’t help himself. He pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers, his heart soaring when she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him with all the desperate passion of an innocent young girl.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered once they finally broke apart. “Please, don’t go.”

  “Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I meant, don’t go back to Spain. Stay here, with me. Uncle Brian will be angry, but he’ll come round in time.”

  “And what of your brother?” Rafael asked, stalling for time.

  “Uncle Brian has already agreed to the match. Shannon and Kieran will be married at Candlemas. Once they’re wed, there’s nothing he can do.”

  “Aisling, this is not my place. I have nothing to offer you.”

  “Ye can offer me kindness, and love. That’s all I need.”

  “You can’t eat kindness and love, mi amor. You said so yourself.”

  “I don’t want to marry Patrick, Rafael. I hadn’t realized how much
until I met ye. There’s no kindness in his heart, no affection. He wants to possess me, but he has no love for me or any woman. He thinks us feebleminded and only good for keeping house and warming a man’s bed.”

  “Aisling, if things were different—”

  “But they aren’t, are they?”

  Aisling pushed him away, yanked open the door, and ran down the steps, leaving Rafael feeling guilty for letting her down once again.

  Chapter 43

  May 2015

  London, England

  Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. His head was beginning to ache, and he still had at least ten end-of-term papers to grade, one rubbish essay after another, the students endlessly repeating overused phrases copied from the internet and offering strikingly similar conclusions based on little more than supposition. Before Wikipedia, students had plagiarized a plethora of different sources, but now it was just one, and most didn’t even bother to restate the information in their own words. Gabe pushed aside the pile of reports. Thankfully, it was a bank holiday and he’d been granted an extra day to wade through this pile of steaming horseshit.

  Alex directed an accusing stare at Gabe from the playpen and promptly tossed a toy over the side. Gabe smiled. “I know, sweat pea, you’d rather be at the park on this beautiful day. So would I. Give me another hour and then we’ll go for a long walk. Deal?”

  The baby didn’t understand a word, but Gabe’s soothing tone seemed to do the trick, and he busied himself with a firetruck that made lots of noise and flashed an inordinate number of lights.

  Gabe was saved from starting on the next essay by the pealing of the doorbell. “Let’s see who that is,” he said to Alex. “Maybe Mum forgot her keys.”

  Gabe tried to hide his surprise when he found Jo waiting patiently on the doorstep. She smiled brightly when he opened the door.

  “Oh, hello, Gabe. Nice to see you. Is Quinn in?”

  “Actually, she isn’t. She went to collect Emma from her sleepover. Would you like to come in?” he asked against his better judgement. He wished Jo would just offer to come back another time but couldn’t find it in himself to be rude.

  “Thank you.” Jo followed him into the front room.

  “Quinn should be back soon if you’d like to wait. I’m in the midst of grading end-of-term reports, so I can’t keep you company.”

  “I can only stay for a minute,” Jo said. “I was in a bookshop yesterday and came across this book. I thought Quinn might find it helpful. It’s about the mystic origins of the hamsa and its connection to the Kabbalah.”

  Jo extracted a slim volume from her bag and held it out to Gabe. Her gaze was playful, and her lips stretched into a seductive smile as she looked up at him. “I like mystical things. There’s something wonderfully romantic about things that have been shrouded in mystery for centuries. There are all kinds of weird legends about the bond between twins, you know. No wonder twins always tend to be attracted to the same people. It’s in their genetic make-up to want the same things.”

  “I’ve never heard that particular theory,” Gabe replied, keeping his tone as even as he could. “I’ve heard of sibling rivalry and think it’s a made-up term used to excuse petty jealousy.”

  Jo laughed and studied him from beneath her lashes. “That’s because you’re an only child. You’d be surprised how competitive siblings can get.”

  “Is that something you know from experience?” Gabe asked.

  “I was too young to compete with my brother and sister, but they went at it hammer and tongs, those two. They were always trying to outdo each other to impress our father, for whom nothing was ever good enough. It came as no surprise to me that they both became cardiologists, just like Daddy.”

  “Well, I hope you and Quinn won’t find anything to compete for,” Gabe remarked as he began to move closer to the door. “I’m sorry, Jo, but I really must get back to those reports.”

  “Sorry to have interrupted you. Tell Quinn I stopped by.”

  “I most certainly will,” Gabe replied.

  He breathed a sigh of relief once he shut the door behind his sister-in-law. What in the holy hell was that about? Was she openly telling him she wanted what Quinn had or was he reading meaning into perfectly innocent comments? The twisting in his gut told him it was the former.

  Gabe returned to the stack of reports, but his mind was no longer on the wonders of carbon-14 dating and its impact on the accuracy of dating ancient remains. He leaned back in his chair and gazed out the window. He needed some air, and so did Alex, who was clearly getting tired of being confined to the playpen. He pinned Gabe with his blue gaze and hurled the firetruck over the side of the playpen in obvious protest.

  “Come on, buddy. Let’s go for a walk,” Gabe said as he walked over to the pen and lifted Alex out.

  Alex smiled, displaying several newly erupted teeth. He reached out and put his hands on Gabe’s cheeks, holding his face tenderly.

  “I love you too, little man,” Gabe said and kissed the tip of his nose. He grabbed the diaper bag Quinn had prepared for him earlier and let himself out of the house.

  Once in his buggy, Alex looked around, his eyes round with wonder as a double-decker bus rolled by. He pointed and Gabe automatically said the word twice, to make sure Alex caught it. “Bus. Bus.”

  “Bah,” Alex cried.

  They repeated this with cars, birds, and a bicycle until Alex’s eyelids began to droop and he dropped off. Gabe decided to keep walking until Alex woke up from his nap, since he’d promised him time on the swings. Gabe took out his mobile and selected his mother’s number. He hadn’t spoken to her since Friday morning and felt a bit guilty. Normally, he rang every morning, but had been sidetracked by preparations for the dinner party and plans for Emma’s sleepover.

  Phoebe answered on the first ring. “Gabe, I hoped you’d call this morning.”

  “You could have called me, Mum. I could have used the distraction.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you. You said you had a lot of papers to grade. How’s that going?”

  “Slowly and painfully. Some of my students copy swathes of information directly from the internet and think I won’t notice. You’d think they’d paraphrase a few paragraphs for decency’s sake instead of copying them word for word.”

  “It’s so much easier to cheat these days, isn’t it, with all that technology. They don’t even have to bother writing it all out. Just copy and paste, and it’s done and dusted. And then they blame everyone but themselves when they get a low grade. I just don’t understand these millennials. Things were so different in my day,” Phoebe said with a loud sigh. “We understood the value of hard work and took pride in a job well done.”

  Gabe chuckled. Hearing his mother use a term like ‘millennials’ surprised him, but her sentiments didn’t. “Mum, how are you?”

  “Oh, you know. At my age, making it to lunch feels like an accomplishment.”

  “Come on. You’re not that old.”

  “No, but I feel it some days. When your father was still alive, I had a sense of purpose and a well-established routine. Your father liked his meals at certain times, and he always expected a home-cooked supper. I don’t need to cook anything for myself. I’m happy with a salad or a bowl of soup, which I can pick up at any café. No point making a pot of soup if I won’t eat it all.”

  “You can invite someone over for a meal,” Gabe suggested.

  “I’ll tell you a secret, son,” Phoebe said, her tone conspiratorial. “Old people are not good company. I’d rather watch telly than hear a litany of someone’s ailments. I have enough of my own.”

  “Mum, we’ll come and see you as soon as the term is over. We’ll have a picnic by the river, and I’ll take you to the garden center. I know how you love that place.”

  “I’d like that. I miss my grandchildren,” Phoebe said sadly. “Send me a new photo, will you?”

  “Of course. I’ll take one today. Alex has t
wo new teeth.”

  “Make sure he smiles, then, so I can see.”

  “Mum, I need a bit of advice,” Gabe said, hoping he wasn’t going to regret sharing his suspicions with his mother, but he needed someone to talk to and this subject was too delicate to share with anyone, even Pete, his best mate since college. Pete would probably think it amusing and make light of Gabe’s concerns.

  “Tell me,” Phoebe invited.

  “I feel ridiculous even saying this out loud, but I think Jo fancies me.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Aren’t you? Am I so hard to resist?” Gabe joked.

  “It’s not you, son. Not that you’re not handsome and charming,” Phoebe backtracked.

  “What is it, then?”

  “It’s a sister thing. When we were young, before I married your father, my sisters and I always found ourselves fancying the same blokes. I suppose when the person closest to you finds someone attractive, you assume they must be worth the attention and suddenly want them for yourself.”

  “Mum, that’s mad.”

  “It’s human nature. Statistically, most people have affairs with family members, particularly with brothers and sisters-in-law, or close friends, rather than total strangers. Attraction tends to grow when people come in constant contact with one another and there’s the ‘forbidden fruit’ element to make them seem so much more appealing.”

  “So, what do you suggest I do?” Gabe asked.

  “The worst thing you could possibly do is get between those two. Their bond is fragile, and given how excited Quinn is to finally have her sister, I’d say, don’t say a single negative thing about Jo, even if it’s true.”