Rory

by Ruth Ryan Langan

He knew it was the same for Innis. The boy had become a stranger to

  them all, spending long hours at the place where his family had met

  their death. Some nights he slept there, under the stars, returning only

  when hunger drove him. Always, when he returned, his eyes wore a

  haunted, desperate look.

  Rory knew it would help if he and Innis could leave Ballinarin. The

  thought teased and tempted him. But it was an impossible dream.

  He'd been gone long enough as it was. With Conor going to England,

  their aging parents needed his help here.

  Rory sighed and forced himself away from the window. So he would

  stay. And every day he would see her. In the gardens. In every room

  of this house. And miss her. Every day of his miserable life.

  He walked down the hall to the room where she had stayed. He hadn't

  been able to bring himself in here since he'd returned to Ballinarin. It

  was too painful. He paused beside the bed, remembering how they

  had lain together, and laughed, and loved.

  Without a thought to what he was doing, he snatched up the bed

  linens and breathed deeply, inhaling the fragrance of her that lingered

  still.

  This was madness. He turned away, annoyed at his weakness. Why

  was he torturing himself this way? He could almost smell her here.

  Hear her footsteps. See her.

  At a sound he turned and had to rub his eyes at the vision in the

  doorway. The vision didn't fade. Didn't disappear. In fact, the vision

  smiled, before speaking.

  "I looked all through the keep. Where has everyone gone?"

  He stayed where he was, afraid to move, for fear of frightening away

  the vision. She wore a hooded traveling cloak of russet velvet. Her

  cheeks were high with color, as though she'd been in the sun.

  "Are you real? I haven't dreamed you?"

  "Aye, Rory. I'm real. I'm no dream."

  "But you must be a vision. I heard the queen order you to wed

  Dunstan."

  "So she did. And it was quite a challenge to find a way to...persuade

  her to change her mind."

  "You?" He took one step toward her, then halted. He was slowly

  going mad. But it was a sweet madness. Much better than hard, cold

  sanity. "Did you steal again, my lady?"

  She shook her head and lowered her hood, revealing the familiar

  tumble of honey curls. "That theft shames me. I did make restitution

  to the vendor. I returned his pony and cart with a sack filled with gold.

  He told me I had his permission to steal his cart any time I pleased."

  He nearly smiled. "So. You didn't steal. What did you do?"

  "Something much worse, I fear. I begged, and pleaded, and wept

  copious tears. And when none of that would touch the queen's heart, I

  resorted to a lie."

  "A lie?" He took another step, and another, until he was standing

  before her. He itched to touch her. But he held back, still afraid. "Was

  it a big lie?"

  She nodded. "A very big lie. I told her I was carrying your baby."

  "My...baby." He took a step back. "Are you?"

  She smiled. "Nay."

  He didn't know whether to laugh or weep. The thought of what she'd

  suggested was so enticing.

  "We both know the queen doesn't trust me. She could have ordered

  her physicians to examine me. But I think she had already grown

  weary of the fight. And so she agreed to release me of my promise, if

  Dunstan would agree as well."

  "How did you get Dunstan to agree to such a thing?"

  "He was much easier to persuade. He doesn't love me, though he did

  want to use me to hurt you." She saw Rory's hand close into a fist at

  his side. "But what he coveted more than anything else was Clay

  Court. So I gave it to him."

  He blinked. "You gave Dunstan your mother's home?'

  "Aye."

  "But it's been in your family for generations. And you love it so."

  "I do. But not as much as I love your home here at Ballinarin. And

  your family. And Innis. I'd hoped that we could be the parents he

  yearns for."

  "Is that all you love? My home? My family? Innis?"She shook her

  head. "I do love them all. Desperately. But not nearly as much as I

  love you, Rory."

  He did touch her then. Just a hand to her hair. She was warm. And

  real. And so very very soft. "Say that again."

  "I said I don't love..."

  "Not that part. The last of it."

  She smiled. That wonderful radiant smile that rivaled the sun. And

  then she touched a hand to his cheek in a gesture so achingly sweet,

  he felt all the warmth, all the sunlight that had been missing from

  Ballinarin for so long.

  "I love you, Rory O'Neil."

  He framed her face with his hands and stared deeply into her eyes.

  "One more time, please."

  She placed a hand to his chest and felt the wild, erratic rhythm of his

  heartbeat. "I love you, Rory O'Neil. Only you. But if you decide to

  have me, you must know that I've come with no dowry. Though my

  father has given his reluctant permission, there are no estates. No

  jewels. No gold. All I have are these clothes."

  "Is that all? I'm not certain 'twill be enough." He thought a moment,

  then brushed his lips over her eyelids. "Will your eyes always see

  only me?"

  "Aye." She said it on a sigh.

  He, continued brushing kisses over her cheek, the corner of her

  mouth. "Will your lips always kiss only me?"

  She could barely speak now for the pounding of her heart. "Aye."

  "Then I have all I'll ever want or need, my love."

  "Oh, Rory." She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his

  kisses. "I was so afraid I'd lost you.

  So afraid you'd be gone when I got here. It took me so long. So long.

  And I'm truly sorry about the lie."

  "Ah yes. That lie." He took the kiss deeper, feeling the heat begin to

  spread, melting his heart, sending his blood surging through his veins

  once more. "What are we to do about that lie?"

  "I don't know. My father believes he will be coming for a visit in the

  spring, to see his firstborn grandchild. Though he has cut me off

  without a piece of gold, he intends to lavish his entire fortune on our

  children. But I feel guilty that I bring you nothing."

  "Nothing?" He rained kisses over her face, her throat. "AnnaClaire,

  you're real. You're here with me. Here to stay. I've found my reason to

  live again." He slipped the cloak from her shoulders and reached for

  the buttons of her gown.

  She lifted a hand to stop him. "Shouldn't we wait? To tell your

  family? And Innis?"

  "Aye. In an hour. Or two. Or three. But for now, just let me love you,

  AnnaClaire. It's been so long. So long." He ran hot wet kisses along

  her neck, making her sigh with pleasure.

  As they tumbled to the bed he murmured, "Besides, if we work very

  hard at it, we might be able to turn your lie into the truth."

  "You mean...?" She gave a low, throaty laugh as she realized his

  intention. "Oh Rory. Rory O'Neil. My wild, blackhearted rogue. I do

  love you so."

  "And I love you, my fine noble English lady. With all my heart. With

  all my being. For
all time."

  And then there was no need for words. They showed each other, as

  lovers have from the beginning of time, just how much love they had

  stored in their hearts.

  Author's Note

  Ireland has such a rich history. Bloody battles. Fierce loyalties and

  religious differences that have existed for centuries and continue

  today. A land that has nurtured poets and pirates, warriors and lovers.

  The hidden kingdom of Ballinarin exists only in my imagination. But

  if you should travel to

  Ireland, you'll find such places. Wild and savage, cool and restful,

  and different from any other place on earth. But it is the people who

  are truly Ireland. Strong-willed, independent, solid.

  There is something about the lovely, green, mist-shrouded island of

  my ancestors that touches a chord deep in me. I hope the O'Neil Saga

  will touch my readers as well.