She slipped a chain about his neck. "I had Flannery make this from my last gold sovereign." Sean lifted a simple crucifix that bore irregular hammer marks. She touched his face. "We owe your life to God. There were so many times these past weeks when our combined strength was not enough."
"Then He helped for your sake, not mine."
"I'll never believe that. Tonight we not only celebrate the birth of God, but of a man who suffered out of compassion for His brothers. Cannot you, of all men, accept Him as an equal who endured in spite of completely human fear and despair? If I, with all my mortal frailties and limitations, can find so much to love in you, how much more must God?"
He kissed the crueifix. "For your sake then, madonna mia . . . and respect for the better man."
On New Year's Day, Catherine bundled up in a cloak and, carrying Orfeo, intercepted Peg as she was mopping in the foyer. She gave her a letter. "Will you see Rafferty gets this to the packet?"
"Never fear. He'll be off within an hour."
"Thank you. Orfeo and I are just going out for a breath of fresh air."
As Catherine and the cat left the house, Peg absently glanced at the letter before dropping it in her apron pocket. Noticing Doctor Flynn's address, she decided to send him a note herself. Seeing no need to pay extra as it was all bound to the same place, she went to her bedroom and carefully slit off the seal, then wrote a holiday greeting. As she tucked it into the envelope, she noticed a second letter to Monsieur Charles d'Artois. She frowned, then went up to Sean's bedroom. "An't Charles Artoys somebody famous?"
Sean looked up in some surprise. "Aye. After Fat Louis, he's next in line for the French throne. He's also a crony of Kit's father. Why?"
Peg's face stiffened. "Nice friends yer lady's got," she snapped, holding out the unopened letter to Sean.
His eyes narrowed angrily. "What right have you to pry into Kit's affairs? Put that back where you found it!"
"Ye're my right. Ye'd better see the name."
She dropped the letter in his lap. Glaring at her, he picked it up. His face went taut. "Where is she?"
"Out for a walk."
"Have her see me when she comes in."
Cheeks rosy with cold, Catherine sailed into the bedroom and spun snow off her cloak. "Oh, it's glorious out! Orfeo went berserk! Most of the time all I could see was his tail waving above the drifts . . ." Seeing his expression, she dwindled off. "Is something wrong?"
He lifted the letter. "Peg wanted to include a note to Flynn. She found this."
The color drained from her cheeks. "You haven't opened it?"
"It's not addressed to me. I thought you might prefer to tell me about it." His tone had more than an echo of its old hardness.
"I wouldn't."
"Does it concern me?"
Her eyes darkened. "Do you still believe I'd betray you?"
He held out the letter. "Send it. I withdraw the question."
She made no move to take it. "Damn Peg and her thrift! Now this will always be between us. You'll always wonder."
She slowly pulled off the cloak and let it fall over the chair, then went to a window. Omitting nothing, she told him of Enderly's murderous schemes and her subsequent audience with the exiled duke. "To protect our child," she finished, "1 asked Charles to claim him in a private interview with Enderly."
"Charles stood to lose a lot by helping you, even if he was thunderstruck by your gall. He wouldn't do it for nothing." His eyes darkened. "What did you give him, Kit?"
She said nothing. "Oh, Christ!" The cry tore from him. "You found a stud soon enough! Less than a month, wasn't it?"
"It wasn't like that!"
"No? What was it like?"
She whirled. "I'd have done anything to protect you and our baby! Anything! I'd have bedded Charles, Louis, the majordomo! But it wasn't sordid. Charles is a remarkable man. He's not unlike you . . ."
"Oh? I beg to disagree, madam! He has a nose that centers on his face, and both balls, by God. I'll warrant he was superb, your Charles!"
"Stop it! You're only tormenting yourself and me!"
"You're going to him, aren't you? My convalescence must be driving you mad with impatience. And Angoulême, too, has a 'fondness' for you. Good God, you can gull men! I'm a past veteran of your witchery, but like a dull fool, I believed I sired your child. I tried to crawl for him, believing it! Do you know whose bastard you're carrying!"
Catherine whitened as if he had stabbed her. With shaking fingers, she slipped his ring off and put it on the desk, then quietly left the room, closing the door. Alone, she threw herself on the bed and let the tears come, bitter and without release.
In growing misery, Sean stared at the ring. You bloody idiot, he berated himself, what would you prefer? Murdered by Enderly, she would have been exclusive. Is that what you want? You can never have her again. Accept it. Make it part of your blood and bone as she can never be again. Oh, Kit. I can only relinquish you.
"Kit?" There was no response and he tried again. Finally, he tried to go to her, but the carpet sucked him down like Ulysses in an endless, undulating poppy field.
Catherine heard his fall. In quick terror, she flung from the cot and threw open the door. Sean lay senseless, tangled in bed linen on the floor. The bandages showed ominous stains of blood. "Flannery!" she shrieked. "Peg! Help!"
O'Donnell, in the foyer flirting with Peg in hope of snagging a tasty lunch after visiting his patient, pelted up the stair ahead of the housekeeper. Quickly he helped the women get the Irishman back to bed, then sheared away the bandage over the chest wound. "He's hemorrhaging. I'll have to go in."
"I'll help you," Catherine whispered.
"No. Everybody out."
Hours later, O'Donnell emerged from the room to find Catherine huddled against the wall, Peg and Flannery sitting on the steps beyond. "Give that man peace, or he'll be seeing it in eternity. He's got little more blood left in him than that damned cati" O'Donnell stalked down the stairs and the cat mewed sifter him.
The three in the hall got up, and Peg, wiping at her puffy eyes, headed for the bedroom. Catherine blocked her path. "No. He'll see no more tears. And he'll hear no more tales. If you have any questions about my conduct, address them to me. I won't permit anyone to hurt or upset him again."
Peg pushed at her shoulder. " 'Twas you who hurt him!"
Catherine shoved her back with a low, flat warning. "Keep your voice down. He may have been yours once and he will be too soon again, but until then, I am his lady, and you'll answer to me. I didn't claw and fight to keep him alive only to betray him or let him die of meddling. Thanks to you, he carries a pain he need never have known. He's mine now. Either accept that fact and be silent, or leave."
Peg sucked in her breath. "Throw her off the place, Flannery!"
"Leavin' the lad to pine away? Peggie, is yer love for him that selfish?"
Peg began to sob. "She's brought him naught but hurt."
"Nay, she's brought him joy, too. His heart's alive again. Ye hoped he'd love her, only not too much. Ye can't be expectin' people to behave like recipes, old girl." He hugged her. "Poor Peggie. That notion's the same that kept us apart. These two are mixed together; ye'll just have to let the cake rise."
* * *
Catherine awoke near dawn to find Sean's eyes looking dazedly into hers as she lay dressed beside him. "I . . . didn't mean to . . . keep you here," he whispered. "I only wanted . . ."
She touched his lips. "I know, love. Don't try to talk. I gave nothing to Charles that belongs to you. He knows that."
He shook his head. "I've no right. . . to you. I know that."
Her eyes burned into his. "We're beyond right. I love and desire you more at this moment than I ever have. I hate the women who'll come after, yet they will come; then one, and I'll want to kill her. You're a man, the kind of man a woman yearns to feel not only insider her body but inside her soul. So much of mine is you."
"I want to touch . . . my son."
&
nbsp; She guided his hand. "He's there, waiting." Sean felt the ring on her finger and closed his eyes.
Two weeks passed before Culhane was able to sit up again. In four, he was restless. Although O'Donnell squelched any notions about getting out of bed, he permitted him to be shifted to the divan near the windows. Catherine and Flannery made an occasion of the transfer and Peg brought up brandy-laced cocoa. She did not linger. Noticing Sean's gaze follow the Irishwoman out of the room, Catherine squeezed his hand. "I'll be right back. I think Peg's forgotten some pastries."
She found the housekeeper in the kitchen preparing a roast lamb for dinner. "Peg, are there any pastries?" Silently, Peg pointed to a napkin-covered pan. Catherine peeked. "Oh, wonderful. Eclairs are Sean's favorites." She looked up. "Won't you bring them to tea, and join us? This is a special day for Sean, particularly because he spent his birthday in prison." When Peg ignored her, she added, "I imagine you always brought in his cakes."
"Since he was ten. Looked like Satan's imp. Didn't need me then and doesn't now."
"You know better," said Catherine softly. "That's why you've loved him all these years." She left the pastries and went upstairs.
In moments, Peg followed.
Four days later, Catherine scowled as she dropped a 4stitch while awkwardly knitting a tiny sock. Sean looked up from a book when she swore aloud at dropping another. "The babe will be more impressed with your lullabies, nimble fingers."
"He ought to have something made by his mother."
"He'll be thrilled. With so many holes, he'll be denied no access to his toes."
"Well, that wooden doll you've been carving is no Donatello," she shot back. "It has ears like a monkey."
"Then it'll be a monkey," he replied placidly.
She giggled and his deeper laughter joined in. "What if we have a girl, Sean? We keep saying 'he.' Will you mind very much?"
"Only the mooning swains cluttering our doorstep." His smile faded and he was silent for a moment. "Artois is in love with you, isn't he?"
She put down the knitting. "I won't be living with him for some time, if at all. If Liam creates an uproar, any such arrangement will be impossible." She took his hand. "By now he knows I'm safe and you're alive, but he doesn't know your name. You must never go near him, Sean. We'll devise some way for you to see the baby."
He smiled grimly. "You were right. Charles and I are much alike. I'd like to put a bullet through his skull, too. Shall I see you on these family occasions?"
"Wouldn't that be unfair to all of us?"
"There's nothing fair about this whole mess!" he flared bitterly, then subsided. "I'm sorry. I'm getting edgier these days."
"You're getting well. Another month and you'll be charging around and losing your temper without a twinge of remorse."
He shrugged. "Why not? Even Rafferty's no longer impressed." He looked at her, then said bluntly, "I want you to leave next week, Kit; before I'm on my feet."
Her fingers crushed the knitting. "But. . . must it be so soon?"
"Charles may be interested to know that half a man may lust as much as a whole one. Will Friday next suit you?"
* * *
A few days later, Catherine was reading to Sean when O'Donnell burst into the room. "You've got to evacuate! One of the villagers on his way to Donegal Town spotted troops headed toward Shelan. They're less than four miles away."
"Find Flannery and tell him to set the fuses," Sean said swiftly. "Tell Rafferty to hitch up the wagon and tie Mephisto to the rear gate. Have them waiting out front for Peg and Nora. They're to head north to Kenlo and camp there until things die down. Kit, Flannery, and I will take the boat." O'Donnell nodded and ran out the door, snatching up Orfeo as he went.
"Kit, fetch my clothes."
She stood up. "Not unless you promise to stay in bed until Flannery can come get you."
"Don't argue, woman!" he roared. She did not budge. "Alright, dammit, you stubborn wench!"
She ran to the armoire. Although she was as careful as possible, he was pale by the time she finished dressing him. Knowing she was giving him pain, Catherine fretted as she slipped his bad arm into his shirt. She started to do the buttons, but he waved her away. "Get your things."
She started toward the other room, but as she paused briefly to scoop up his little carving from the rug, a drawl from the doorway chilled her blood. "Pretty tits when ye bend over, girl. Always did have."
"Rouge!" she gasped.
The giant lounged against the doorframe, his pistol pointed at Sean's chest. "Good to see ye remember me." He nodded lazily to Sean. "Hello, Culhane. Ye can live a few more minutes if ye behave. Yer brother's not a bad lot to work for; if he wants the pleasure of killin' ye personal, I got no objections. Me, I get the pleasure of yer doxy before the troops take turns. They'll be along directly. Me and Lord Culhane was more impatient." He smiled at Sean's flinting eyes. "She filled out real nice."
"Touch her, and I'll tear you apart!"
Rouge smiled mirthlessly, his gray eyes flat. "Ye an't in shape to tear paper. Ye're bleedin', boyo."
With a muffled sound, Catherine took a step toward Sean.
"Stay where y'are, girl," Rouge rumbled, then his voice altered. "Better yet, go in that bedroom. Unless ye want him to watch."
White-faced, she retreated as Rouge eased into the room. Sean hurled a candlestick at him. As the big man whirled with a pistol leveling, Catherine screamed, "No! Sean, don't! Rouge, leave him alone! I'll do anything you want . . . only leave him alone."
Slowly, Rouge lowered the gun. "Why not? Start strippin', girl, and be quick."
Hands shaking, she tore at her buttons.
"Kit, don't! They're going to kill me anyway!"
"We're going to fuck her anyway." Rouge's eyes followed the dress dropping to the floor, then roamed the silken flesh above the chemise. "Might even fuck her to death, pretty little thing like that."
Hearing Sean's savage curse and fearing Rouge would lose patience, Catherine pulled desperately at the chemise.
Rouge grinned. "See, Culhane, yer doxy wants it. She'd like to know what a real man's cock feels like." He moistened his lips as the chemise parted to the waist. "God, ye're a beauty." He moved toward her, unfastening his breeches. "Get into that bedroom," he said thickly. He took another step and his head blew apart. Stumbling backward against the desk, Catherine bit her hand in terror as he fell almost on top of her.
In the doorway, Liam's bloated face appeared above a eloud of smoke which issued from a musket bore. A pistol was in his belt. "Good God, darling, I am sorry! Thank heaven I was in time to stop him." A false note belied his tender concern, and sheer rage revived her wits.
"Liar! I think you were in the hall all the time! You deliberately waited until the last possible moment out of sheer spite!"
His eyes narrowed and his attention slid toward Sean. "What is my wife doing here, brother? I thought we had a gentleman's agreement."
"Gentleman!" Catherine shot in. "You wouldn't know the meaning of the word, brother!"
He paled, then jerked out the pistol. "You told her, you bastard!"
Catherine darted forward, blocking his arm. "Sean didn't tell me! You counted on his being silent, just as you did when you betrayed him! You planned to reclaim me, didn't you? All you had to do was kill him, the only one in your way, the only one who knew!"
Liam's face turned florid and Sean tried to shove her. "Kit, get out of the way!"
She stumbled, but held her ground. "No! He'll have to shoot us both!"
Advancing into the room, Liam tried to placate her. "I've no intention of killing you, Catherine. I love you."
"No, Liam."
"I did it for you!"
"You did it for yourself."
"I'll prove it to you," he said icily. "I'll let him go. The others have left, but Flannery must still be around somewhere. Flannery can get him out of here before the soldiers come."
Her voice shook. "I don't believe you!"
&nbs
p; "Oh, I won't do it for nothing. Come with me. Live as my wife. I can kill him and take you anyway. If you come willingly, I'll let him live."
"Always bargaining. Always a price, Judas!"
Liam's mouth tightened. "If you think you can anger me enough to use this bullet on you instead of him, you're mistaken, my dear. I can hold you both here until the soldiers come."
"Flannery will get you first."
"Not before I blow my dear brother's guts out." His voice dropped. "I advise you to decide quickly, my love. If the soldiers meet you in such charming deshabille, I may not be able to ihestrain them."
Abruptly, Sean thrust his foot against the small of Catherine's back and sent her sprawling sideways across the room. She fell to the floor, one outstretched hand sliding through Rouge's blood.
Liam chuckled. "Bravo, brother."
Frantically, she twisted around. "I'll go with you! Liam, don't hurt him!" He gave her a thin smile. "Please!"
"From sparrow hawk to nightingale, how quickly you can change your song, my love; but it alters too late. If I let him live, I'll never be sure of you."
"I'll hate you!" she screamed. "I'll hate you the rest of my life!"
"You don't know how to hate," he said gently, "not really hate." He looked at Sean. "You and I do, though, don't we, brother? You, the English; and I, you."
"Stop waving that bloody thing like a handkerchief and get it over with," Sean said in a tone of bored contempt.
"Oh, I'm in no hurry. I've waited a lifetime for this moment . . ."
As Liam talked, Catherine crept toward Rouge's body. Her eyes never left her husband. Intent on Sean, he was unable to see her directly without turning his head.
"Let her go, Liam. To the British, you're nothing but a turncoat. Do you think they'll let you keep this place, keep her? You're only trying to frighten her now with threats of rape, but you won't be able to stop them. To them, she's a collaborator. Take her out of here . . ." Sean clung to the bedpost, the stain at his breast slowly blossoming.
"You've gone soft, brother," Liam sneered, face taut. "Delilah has shorn the scourge of her people and he is given unto the Philistines. Will you bring the temple down about our ears, brother?" Suddenly, he stiffened. "That's what Flannery's up to, isn't it? You thieving urchin bastard! You'll not wreck my house!" The gun aimed at Sean's heart, and Catherine scrambled over Rouge's body as Liam cocked the pistol.
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