Wild Angel

by Miriam Minger

  At least Triona was in her room. But alone?

  Ronan’s breath jammed as he thrust open the door, his eyes adjusting to the faint light cast by a flickering oil lamp. Conn lay on the floor, his tail thunking heavily, while Triona bolted upright in bed, the covers clutched to her breast.

  "Ronan?"

  "Where is he?"

  "Who?"

  "Taig O’Nolan, woman!"

  "Why, in the hall with you . . . isn’t he?"

  Ronan’s fierce relief was short-lived as fury swept him. "No! He never returned!"

  Triona gasped as Ronan was beside the bed in two strides. Suddenly she was wrenched from beneath the covers to her knees, Ronan’s fingers biting cruelly into her arms.

  "I said the O’Nolan never returned," he repeated, his voice ominously low. "You will tell me what happened from the moment you left the hall, Triona." He gave her a rude shake. "Do you hear me?"

  "Nothing happened!"

  "Something did or the O’Nolan would have come back to the hall. Did he try to kiss you? Is that what happened? He tried to kiss you and you somehow retaliated, knocked him over the head, kicked him, punched him—"

  "Why do you care if he kissed me?" Triona demanded, growing furious at his rough handling. "That’s what you would have wanted him to do, isn’t it?"

  "I could not care a whit if he did, I just want to know what happened afterward—"

  "Damn you, O’Byrne! I’ve never been kissed so obviously that didn’t happen, or I’m sure I would have known about it!"

  Her outburst hung in the air as the room fell silent, Ronan’s eyes narrowing in disbelief.

  "You’ve never been kissed?"

  The huskiness of his voice sent shivers spiraling from her stomach to her toes. Suddenly acutely aware of how closely he held her, his silvery eyes blazing into hers, Triona found she had only a bare whisper of voice to answer.

  "No. Nev—"

  His lips came down upon hers before she could pull away, Ronan’s arms enveloping her so tightly that she feared for a fleeting moment she might be crushed. But her fear disappeared when his mouth began moving over hers, slowly at first as if sampling the taste of her, savoring the warmth of her, the feel of her . . . then more hungrily as if he liked very much what he’d found and meant to devour her.

  And she was certain she was being devoured when his tongue suddenly swept deep into her mouth, one hand plunging through her hair to tilt back her head while the other drew her that much closer . . . so close she could feel his heartbeat thundering against her breast. Or was it hers to match the blood pounding in her ears?

  Within an instant, the sound had grown to a deafening roar, her fingers clutching wildly at his tunic as a raging heat suddenly engulfed her from head to toe. Yet no sooner had her tongue begun to spar with his in a thrilling dance that sent her senses spinning and her insides melting then she heard him groan, his body tensing.

  "By God, woman, if you’d been kissed before you would have saved me a lot of trouble."

  Triona’s eyes shot open as Ronan lifted his head away from hers though he still held her tightly around the waist . . . as if reluctant to let her go. But when he spoke again his voice was no longer husky.

  "I’d wager if you’d known how much you would like a man’s touch, you would have married long ago."

  She slapped him across the face almost before she was aware she’d raised her hand. Her body trembled in outrage and chagrin that she could have so wantonly lost all control of herself.

  "Is that the kind of retaliation you meant, O’Byrne? A blow? Or perhaps something harsher?"

  He dodged to the side before her doubled fist could slam into his stomach, catching her as she almost toppled forward from the bed. In the next moment, her arms were pinned painfully behind her back, his face only inches from her own.

  "You will tell me what happened to the O’Nolan . . ."

  "I don’t know!" Triona cried, tears smarting her eyes from how fiercely he held her. "When I saw him last he was walking back to the hall with Aud!"

  "Aud? You set your maid to do your devious bidding?"

  "Of course not! He seemed to have taken a liking to her after he told me he didn’t want to marry me."

  Ronan released her so suddenly that she fell back onto the mattress, almost landing on Maeve who screeched and jumped to the floor. Conn had long since risen to his feet, his big brown eyes looking uncertainly from Ronan to Triona as he began to whine.

  "Now you’ve upset everybody!" she blurted, tears to her dismay tumbling down her cheeks. "Why don’t you just leave—"

  "Not until I find out why you’ve concocted such a lie."

  "It’s no lie! Find the O’Nolan and ask him! He told me that he wasn’t going to stand in your way . . . that he could see plainly that you wanted me for yourself. I tried to tell him he was wrong . . . and he even said that you’ve long told him you’ve no time for a wife—"

  "Aye, and I meant it," Ronan cut in, more deeply stung by Triona’s tears than he’d ever admit. "I don’t want you. I don’t want anybody! The only thing I want is vengeance . . . vengeance and if God is merciful, some peace."

  He stopped as his throat tightened, realizing he had given voice to things never before said. Without another word he headed for the door, not surprised when Triona shouted after him, her voice strangely ragged, "I don’t want you either, O’Byrne! You’re the last man I’d ever think to wed!"

  "You will wed, Triona. That I promise." Ronan swallowed hard against long pent-up emotion that threatened to overcome him as he faced her from the doorway. "And rest assured, it won’t be me. When I convince the O’Nolan of that, you’ll be journeying to Carlow as his bride."

  He ducked out, slamming the door behind him just as a pillow came hurtling through the air.

  Chapter 15

  "AT LEAST THE rest of your evening was more enjoyable than mine," Triona muttered, staring out the window at the rain coming down in sheets.

  "Aye, well, it was until the O’Byrne came crashing at my door." Looking up from her mending, Aud shook her head. "Taig wasn’t at all pleased, I can tell you."

  "Taig is it now?" Triona couldn’t help smiling as she glanced over her shoulder, for the moment her mood feeling a little brighter. She wasn’t surprised to see Aud blush. Her maid had been doing it all morning.

  "Aye, he told me it was only fair since he was calling me by my given name." As Aud smiled, some secret memory making her plain face look younger than her thirty-nine years, Triona heaved a sigh.

  "You should have gone with him to Carlow, Aud. Far away from this miserable place."

  "And leave you here all alone with that—that Black O’Byrne? No wonder they call him by such a name! It would surely describe his mood when Taig said he was no longer looking for a bride . . . at least not one with coppery hair, if you don’t mind me saying so."

  "Why should I mind?" Triona traced her finger over the foggy patch her breath had left on the window. "You’ve always wanted me to be happy. Why wouldn’t I want the same for you?" Suddenly she cursed, realizing she had written Ronan’s name on the glass.

  "Triona?"

  "It’s nothing, Aud." Triona swiped across the window with her palm; she wished she could just as easily erase the memory of Ronan’s kiss from her mind.

  She had scarcely slept last night thinking about it, that, and everything he’d said to her, the spawn. At least one thing hadn’t changed since she’d left Imaal. Ronan wanted nothing to do with her and she wanted nothing to do with him.

  A sudden pang made Triona curse again as she shoved away from the window.

  "Your ankle, sweeting?"

  "Aye," Triona lied, not wanting to tell her maid what was really plaguing her. It was all so absurd. One kiss shouldn’t have caused this hollow ache deep inside her. Not even a kiss as wonderful, as dizzyingly hard to forget as Ronan’s.

  "Ha! It wasn’t that incredible," she groused to herself as she plopped onto her bed and toyed absentl
y with Maeve’s switching tail. And, of course, she had nothing to compare it to. The whole experience could have been quite ordinary.

  She sighed, not believing that thought for a moment as she flipped onto her back.

  "Sweeting, whatever is troubling you? You’re as restless as I’ve ever seen."

  "Nothing, Aud." Although once again she had lied. Everything was more the truth of it!

  "Well, you may be saying so, but I hope you’re not fretting because I didn’t go to Carlow. If Taig O’Nolan’s as fond of me as he claimed, he’ll wait as long as he has to—"

  "But the two of you shouldn’t have to wait!" Triona broke in vehemently, grateful for something to distract her. "You’ve the right to live your own life, Aud. You’re not a slave, but free to come and go as you choose."

  "And I choose to stay here with you! From the moment your father laid you in my arms, aye, no matter that you were wailing like a banshee, your little face as red as could be, I swore to protect you. Swore on a crucifix, and that lightning should strike me to the ground if I ever failed you! So until you’re gone from this place, sweeting, I’ll be by your side."

  "Oh, Aud." Triona thrust herself from the bed and rushed over to give her maid a fierce hug. "I only wish I knew when that might be. I never asked Ronan yesterday if he’d heard any news yet from Kildare, and I doubt now if he’d tell me anyway." Suddenly, she brightened. "Niall might know—if I can find him alone to ask him."

  "You think he’d tell you if they’d heard anything?"

  "I hope so." Triona went to her clothing chest and pulled out a pair of trousers and a shirt. The rain and mud were as good an excuse as any to wear her favorite clothes again rather than silk or fine linen. As she shed her light blue gown, she said almost to herself, "At least Niall’s told me twice he’d help me if I ever needed it."

  "A strange thing, if you ask me."

  Triona dressed hurriedly, impatient to be on her way. "I thought so, too, but I suppose I’ll find out today if he really meant it."

  "You might discover more than you want if the O’Byrne sees you in those trousers."

  "He won’t," Triona said confidently, slipping on a pair of hard-soled leather shoes. "My brown cloak will cover everything. Besides, it’s raining too hard. A gown would just trail in the mud." Ready at last, she wadded the gown into a ball and tossed it to Conn. To her delight, the wolfhound caught it between his jaws and shook the garment ferociously. "Good Conn! That more than matches my feelings!"

  "But not mine when I’ll have to mend it again," Aud chided as Triona rushed to retrieve the sodden garment.

  "Too bad you didn’t do the same thing to Ronan last night," she said softly, rubbing Conn’s ears. "But you’ve taken a liking to him, only the saints know why."

  "Here you go, sweeting."

  Triona hurried back to Aud and shrugged into the cloak, then settled the hood over her hair. "I’ll be back soon. And don’t forget to keep Conn here with you. He’d lead Ronan right to me."

  "Aye, it wouldn’t be wise for you to be found consorting with the O’Byrne’s own brother, now would it?"

  Triona shook her head, gave Aud a peck on the cheek and then flew out the door. Luckily, there was no sign of Ronan as she passed his room, though the door was open, the interior dark and silent. Praying she wouldn’t encounter him, she drew the hood more tightly around her face as she stepped outside.

  If it had been raining in sheets a short while ago, now it seemed that the boiling gray sky had opened up with a vengeance, the downpour a deluge. But Triona wasn’t daunted as she lowered her head and hurried toward Niall’s dwelling-house. She loved storms, the louder the thunder the better.

  "You there, out of the way!"

  "What . . .?" Glancing up, Triona barely had a moment to dodge the two riders bearing down upon her. Mud splattered her from head to foot as their horses galloped by. Realizing that they must have just ridden through the gates, she grew tense with excitement.

  Might they have come from Kildare? From their urgency, her instincts were telling her that it must be so. Seeing that they had dismounted and rushed into the hall, she imagined they had gone to report to Ronan. She hurried across the yard, unable to run because of her sore ankle, but so excited she hardly noticed.

  She was grateful when several other clansmen joined her at the entrance, apparently having seen the riders as well. As they all hastened inside, stamping their feet and shaking the rain from their cloaks, Triona kept to the back, using their bulk to conceal her presence. Thankfully no one was paying her any heed. All eyes were trained to the front of the hall where Ronan had stood to meet the riders, all ears listening to the breathless announcement.

  "Lord, news from Kildare! Maurice de Roche has left his castle with a small force to journey southward. He goes to meet the Norman King John who landed in Waterford with his forces only two days’ past."

  "So it’s no longer a rumor," one of the clansmen standing in front of Triona commented gruffly to his neighbor. "That bastard has finally come to Eire to crush the rebellion among his own vassals."

  "Aye, may they all butcher each other!" hissed another man as Ronan’s commanding voice carried to them.

  "A small force?"

  "Aye, Lord. Ten knights. The rest will join the baron when King John’s army arrives in Dublin—"

  "So they think." Ronan’s tone had grown harsh. "But their liege lord is a dead man. King John will find a nice Irish welcome waiting for him on his march north . . . eleven Norman corpses swinging from a tree."

  Triona ducked as Ronan suddenly looked out across the hall at the men surrounding her.

  "Arm yourselves and prepare to ride! Tell the others to meet at the gates as soon as they’re ready. Now go! If we’re to catch de Roche, we’ve no time to waste."

  Triona gasped as the clansmen who’d served as her shield seemed to lunge as one body for the doors, leaving her to scramble after them. But Ronan had already turned his attention back to the exhausted riders. And thanks to the pouring rain, none of the men wasted a glance on her as several ran for the stable while others branched out to pound upon doors and raise the alarm.

  Triona, too, headed for the stable. The day had come! She had hoped to prepare, knowing little of Normans, but she would just have to rely on the skills she already possessed. First she needed a horse, but she couldn’t ride Laeg. Ronan would surely recognize . . .

  Suddenly she stopped, realizing that Ronan might very well come to check on her before he left the stronghold, despite his call for haste. If she wasn’t there, he might guess her plans. He already suspected her.

  "Ninny," she grumbled, quickly making her way back to her dwelling-house. Just in time, too. Shooting a glance over her shoulder just before she went inside, Triona felt her heart jump as she saw Ronan leaving the hall.

  She ran to her room, cursing the lingering pain in her ankle as she shoved open the door with a crash.

  "Saints preserve us, Triona, you startled me!"

  "Tell Ronan I’m resting, Aud. Nothing more!" Muddy cloak, shoes and all, Triona dove into the bed and pulled the covers to her ears, then rolled over so her back would be facing the door.

  "Oh, sweeting, I just changed those sheets! And you’ve tracked water all over the floor—"

  "I did?" Sitting up to look, Triona felt her heart sink. It was dark enough in the outer room that Ronan might not notice the floor was wet but in here, with all the windows . . . "Aud, do something! If he sees the mess—"

  "Lie down!" Aud commanded sharply, her maid using the very garment she had been mending to quickly wipe the floor dry. "And that goes for you, too, Conn!"

  "Aye, lie down, lie down!" Triona whispered, her wolfhound nudging her fingers with his cold nose as she signaled to him to drop. Pitching back onto her side, she heard a heavy Chunk as Conn’s elbows hit the floor and she knew he had obeyed.

  Only when she heard Aud’s chair creak, her maid humming softly as she resumed her needlework, did Triona breath
e a sigh of relief. The picture of quiet serenity that she wanted Ronan to see had been restored. But she froze when she heard his approaching footsteps. Her rampant heartbeat was anything but serene as she listened to his hand turn the latch.

  "She’s resting, Lord," Aud murmured, Triona not moving a muscle as she felt Ronan’s suspicious eyes upon her.

  "This early in the day? Is she ill?"

  "No, Lord, just weary from last evening. She told me she didn’t sleep well last night."

  That was true enough, Triona thought, forcing herself to breathe steadily and slowly though she felt as if she couldn’t breathe at all. But she wished Aud hadn’t told him!

  "She’s not alone in that," came Ronan’s terse response just before he closed the door.

  Triona smiled in triumph. She wished she could have seen the look on Ronan’s face when Taig O’Nolan told him that he could keep the new cook but the chieftain no longer had any interest in taking a bride. Aye, she hoped Ronan would lose many nights of sleep over that news! But her smile faded when she heard a key grind in the lock. She flung aside the covers in outrage.

  "Why that—"

  "Sshh, now, he’ll hear you!"

  At that moment, Triona almost didn’t care. Almost. In the next instant, she was across the room and listening at the door. Listening and waiting, her cheeks hot and her pulse racing. When she was certain Ronan had left the dwelling-house, she returned to the bed and retrieved her dagger from beneath the mattress.

  "What are you doing, sweeting? Why do you need—"

  "My chance has finally come, Aud." Triona secured the weapon in her belt.

  "Chance?"

  "To avenge my father." Seeing the stricken look on Aud’s face, Triona spared a moment to give her a reassuring hug, then she went to one of the sturdy-backed chairs that had once belonged to her parents. Thankfully, it wasn’t as heavy as it appeared.

  "I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Aud, so you’ll have to help Maire exercise her legs as you did this past week while I was abed. Aye, and you’ll have to hang something to keep the rain out." With that, Triona swung the chair at the nearest window, averting her eyes as the fine Norman glass shattered.