by Laurel McKee
"I am quite certain we don't move in the same circles, colleen," he muttered, reaching out with his other hand to touch the fine fur edging of her cloak. "I know no English princesses."
"I'm not English!" Anna protested, thinking of Eliza's oft-repeated admonition—the Blacknalls were Irish and had been for generations.
"You speak like an Englishwoman," he said, his touch sliding up the soft fur. His gaze followed, his eyes as dark as fine emeralds now. "Are you on your way to Castletown, mayhap? For one of the Conollys' grand parties?"
Anna suddenly wrenched away, unable to bear his nearness another minute. She feared she would faint, like one of those ninny heroines in her novels. "It is none of your business who I am, sir, or where I am going!" she said, running back down the hill. Running away from him and her unladylike feelings.
But his laughter followed her, full of mocking amusement "You would do well to heed my words, colleen," he called after her. "Go home and bar your doors."
She did not slow down until she threw herself back into the carriage. "Drive on!" she shouted. "Quickly."
Rose stared at her with wide eyes. 'Ts something amiss, my lady?"
Anna shook her head, trying to catch her breath. "I am just eager to get home." She craned her neck to stare out the window, but the road behind them was empty.
Had the whole scene been nothing but her overly vivid imagination, then?
"Do you know whose land this is, Rose?" she asked, gesturing to the fields and woods outside.
"I think it is the Duke of Adair's land, my lady."
"Adair?" That name seemed familiar. Anna searched her memory of county gossip. Then she remembered—the reclusive Irish Duke of Adair, the last of an ancient line, had been in a dispute with his Protestant cousin over the estate. But that had been years ago. "I thought he lost the estate."
"He got it back, my lady. Though who knows how long that will last, these days. You need to stay away from men like that They're terribly dangerous."
Anna could well believe that that man wrested back his property, even under the weight of the Penal Laws against Irish landowners. Surely he always fought for, and won, everything he wanted. And she knew he was dangerous.
She leaned her head back with a sigh, closing her eyes. "We'll soon be home," she whispered And as soon as the doors of Killinan closed behind her, she would surely forget her strange encounter with the enigmatic Duke of Adair.
Chapter 12
I think I have the high card! I take this trick," Lady Connemara said. "What of you, Lady Mount Clare? Have you anything higher?"
Eliza glanced up, startled to find herself still at the Connemaras' card party. Her thoughts were still on the proofs of her latest pamphlet, on its way to a secret printing press in a courier's saddlebag.
"Oh no," she said, quickly studying the cards in her hand. "You do win the trick, Lady Connemara. Shall we deal again?"
"It's hardly surprising we are all so distracted," Lady Connemara said as her partner, Lord Banning, nodded. "What with rumors racing through Dublin and preparations for war galloping apace. I'm tempted to barricade myself in my chamber until all is over!"
"My brother, General Hardwick, is in charge of fortifying the old city walls," Mrs. Easton said, shuffling the cards again for another hand of whist. "He says the stones are ancient and crumbling and the mortar full of gaps, especially in the south. How can such a flimsy barricade hold out the French, I ask you?"
"I wouldn't worry, Mrs. Easton," Lord Banning said. "That's what our fine army is for! They won't let any Frenchies or any damned Irish pikemen through. Those cowards will run at the first hint of real battle."
Eliza glanced across the room at Will, who sat by the window playing backgammon with Miss Hardwick. Despite herself, she felt a pang of jealousy at the sight of their blond heads bent near each other.
"I do hope your sister will make it home in safety, Lady Mount Clare," Lady Connemara said. "I vow I would not care to be on the roads these days."
"I'm sure she will be fine," Eliza said.
"In Kildare?" Mrs. Easton asked worriedly. "I have heard the place is full of rebels, hiding in the woods and bogs."
"Perhaps we would all be better off in the country," Lady Connemara said as distant cannon fire boomed like approaching thunder. They had been testing the guns along those crumbling walls all day and now were doing so into the night
"At least there, in our own homes, we could see to our own fortifications," Lady Connemara went on, gesturing to the footmen to serve more wine to steady everyone's nerves.
"Not if we can't trust our own servants," Mrs. Easton said, watching suspiciously as her glass was filled by one of the footmen.
"I shouldn't worry," Lord Banning said again, drinking heartily. "I hear General Lake will soon be in charge of the entire forces. Now, there is a man who knows how to nip rebellion in the bud!"
Lake—a man who was an utter brute, Eliza thought, remembering tales of his doings in the north, including burnings, floggings, and torture. With such a man in charge, surely these things would spread over the whole country like wildfire.
And would he draw Will into such horrors, too? Even good men could fall into brutality in the red haze of war.
She looked at him again. He smiled gently at Miss Hardwick as the young lady blushed back. No, Eliza could not see such brutality from him; it would destroy him. And destroy her, too, to see it
"Will you also go back to Kildare, Lady Mount Clare?" Lady Connemara asked, studying her new hand of cards.
"Perhaps," Eliza murmured, shifting the cards in her own hand. "My mother and sisters are quite alone there, and I find I miss them."
"I should go soon, then," Lord Banning said. "Before the roads become quite impassable with the fighting."
The card games ended soon after that, servants setting up refreshment tables as everyone milled about. There was laughter, gossip, and flirtation, as usual, even as the guns boomed in the distance, lighting up the night sky.
Eliza took a cup of tea from one of the tables, standing by the window to watch those red flashes against the darkness. She caught a glimpse of Will's reflection in the glass, standing right behind her as he, too, watched the cannon fire. She did not turn to him, but her every sense was attuned to his presence. To everything about him.
"Can I see you tonight?" he whispered.
Before she could answer, the drawing room door flew open and a dusty messenger hurried in, still wearing his riding boots. Silence fell like a storm cloud over the company as everyone turned to the intruder. Excitement on a dull evening at last!
Lady Connemara rose from her seat, her hand pressed to her throat. "What is this?" she said tightly.
"I beg your pardon, my lady," the butler said, dashing in after the messenger. "He insisted on speaking to his lordship at once."
"Speak to me of what?" Lord Connemara said, taking his wife's arm. "We have guests."
The messenger ignored that, striding forward to hand Lord Connemara a sealed letter. "As a magistrate of Westmeath, you are needed at the Castle at once."
Lord Connemara broke the seal, hastily scanning the message, his face turning white.
"What is it?" Lady Connemara whispered. "The children..."
"Nothing like that, Marianne." He did not look at her, just crumpled the paper in his hand. "I will come at once." His gaze swept the startled party. "And I suggest all the officers here return to their homes and wait for their own orders."
As Lord Connemara hurried away with the messenger, leaving a sudden excited clamor behind him, Eliza spun around to face Will. His expression was tight, blank, giving nothing away at all.
"I will come to you later, Eliza," he said quickly. "I know it is probably futile to say this, but please go home. Stay quiet tonight"
She nodded. She would go home, but she would send messages from there, too. She had to find out what was about to happen, one way or another.
Eliza lit the branch of candles on
her desk, watching as they flared into bright, flickering light one by one. The rest of the chamber was deep in blackness, as was the night outside her window. Only distant, ominous fires lit the sky at its edges.
As she lit the last taper, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. For an instant, she was launched back in time to confront her younger self. Her hair fell over her shoulders in unruly waves, and her eyes were very large, dark, and as frightened as a doe's in her pale face. Will was leaving very soon. She was sure of it. And this time he would not come back.
But she wore a garment her younger self would never have possessed. On a whim, she had purchased the dressing gown on her last shopping expedition with Anna and then immediately regretted it. It was a frivolous bit of sheer, pale blue silk trimmed with lace and white satin rosebuds. It skimmed over her body like a light caress, parting provocatively over the bosom and tied with satin ribbons. Beneath it, she wore nothing at all.
Yet now the gown felt foolish. He had said he would come to her tonight, and he was not there.
"Blast it all," she muttered, reaching for the delicate satin ribbons. She would put on her sensible night rail and go to bed—alone. But as she pulled the first ribbon free, there was a rustle at the open window, the sound of a booted footfall on the floor.
"It would be a shame to waste such a charming gown," Will said.
Eliza whirled around, pressing a hand to her pounding heart "Will! I thought you weren't coming. After the party—"
"Sorry for my tardy appearance." He closed the window behind him and pulled off his coat and cap. "Ran into a patrol near the river."
"Did they give you trouble?"
"Of course not. I am quite adept now at taking cover when needed." He grinned at her. "And I absolutely must mention again how fetching that gown is."
Eliza laughed, sitting on the edge of the desk, dangling her bare feet above the floor. "I just thought you might"
"It is most. .. charming. Tm glad you listened to me for once and came home after the party/' He crossed the chamber in two strides, his eyes dark with intent in the candlelight He clasped her waist as he stepped between her legs, drawing her close against him as if there was no time to lose.
As their lips met in a welcoming kiss, one of his hands slid up over her ribs to balance her breast on his palm, massaging and squeezing gently through the thin silk. His fingertips circled her nipple, rubbing the cloth against the aching, pebbled skin. Eliza moaned.
"Eliza, Eliza. You are so very beautiful," he whispered, lowering his head to take that swollen nipple into his mouth, wet and hot through the silk.
She buried her fingers in his hair, holding him close to her as the sensations grew deep in her stomach, hotter, tighter, until she feared they would snap and send her spinning off into the night sky.
"I think that you, Major Denton," she gasped, "are entirely overdressed."
She grabbed the hem of his shirt, dragging it up over his head. The cold night air washed over the damp silk of her robe, her breasts, and she trembled as she went about her task. She unfastened his breeches, easing the rough wool down until his manhood was free, as stiff as iron.
His arms tensed around her as he swung her off the desk. They fell to the floor, still tangled in their kiss, their frantic caresses, as if they were starved for the taste and the feel of each other.
He impatiently tugged the gown from her shoulders, snapping the ribbons as the silk drifted around them in a sky-blue cloud. Through her closed eyes, through that shimmering haze of dreamlike lust, she felt him draw her down, down, until their kiss slid away, and she lay on her elbows and knees against the rough carpet.
She felt his presence behind her, the hunger in his touch as his hands stroked the length of her spine. He traced the soft curve of her backside and then her thighs as he parted them.
He drew her back and up, sliding inside her from that angle, deep and swift So deep he could surely touch her very core, her soul. He held her still against him, his hands tight on her hips as he pumped into her, his body hot as it arched over hers.
She moaned, curving back into him as she reveled in the tight joining of their bodies, the intense, frightening intimacy of the moment His sweat mingled with hers, their breath and heartbeats as one.
The pressure built and built inside of her, hotter, tighter, until at last it broke, a shower of intense, unbearable pleasure that erased all else for an instant. Above her, Will shouted out her name, and she felt the warmth of him deep inside her.
She collapsed, weak and sated, to the floor. He fell down next to her, his arms still around her, his shoulders heaving with his ragged breath as he turned his face toward the wall. Eliza caressed his damp shoulder, his back, the tangled length of his hair. How beautiful he is, she thought tiredly, exultantly. And he was hers, even if he was leaving soon.
They lay there for long moments as Eliza felt her heartbeat slow. The chamber grew cold around them as the fire in the grate died and the candles sputtered lower. Will sat up beside her, gathering her into his arms and lifting her with him from the floor. He laid her gently on her bed, climbing in beside her as he drew the blankets close around them. She curled into his arms, sighing with sleepy contentment
'Tell me a story," Will muttered, kissing her tumbled hair.
Eliza laughed. "What sort of story? A naughty one? I fear I don't know any of those"
'Tell me an Irish story, then," he said. "You always knew those."
"There are Three Sorrowful Tales of Erin," she said, remembering those childhood tales she loved. "And the first is the tale of Deirdre of the Sorrows "
"She sounds most unhappy."
"Oh, of course. She was born on the night of a full moon, a sidhe moon, and when her father took her to the druids to be blessed, they said, 'This child will be the cause of much trouble. She will be the most beautiful woman in Ulster, but she will cause the deaths of many men.'
"King Connor heard of this girl and declared that she should be reared far from the kingdom, deep in the forest under the care of an old woman, and when she was of age, he would marry her himself. As foretold, Deirdre grew to be very beautiful, but very lonely. One night she dreamed of a handsome, fearless warrior, and she could never forget him. When she met her dream warrior in truth, she found he was named Naoise, one of the sons of Uisneach, and they fell in love with each other at once. Deirdre knew she could never marry Connor, and she and Naoise fled. No one in Ireland would take them in, fearing the wrath of the king, and finally they set sail for a foreign shore. They made their home on a Scottish island and lived happily there together for five years. Until a message arrived from the king."
"Never a good sign," Will said.
"Shh," Eliza said, laughing. "I am the one telling this story. Anyway, the king's messenger conveyed forgiveness and asked Deirdre and Naoise to return home to Ulster. Deirdre did not believe the king and wanted to stay in their new home, but Naoise, being a trusting man, insisted they go back."
"I think perhaps Naoise is foolish."
"Indeed For no sooner did they enter the king's fortress than they were surrounded by an army. Naoise and his brothers fought bravely, but they were outnumbered. Poor Naoise had his head cut off, and so vast was Deirdre's sorrow that she fell upon his body and joined him in death."
Eliza glanced down to find that Will had fallen asleep in her arms. She kissed his forehead softly. "I wish you would not go into the realm of King Connor tomorrow" she whispered. But she knew that, even as Deirdre could not stop Naoise from obeying his king, she could not stop Will. They both had to do what they must, even when sorrows abounded around them.
Chapter 13
Will paced the length of the Castle corridor and back again, his boots echoing hollowly on the cold stone floor. There was little to distract him in that barren space—a few chairs and some unsmiling portraits of past government officials. Their painted images still looked most disgruntled at being asked to control this wild, barbaric land.
>
Or perhaps they had just encountered a stubborn ancestor of Eliza Blacknall's.
He glanced toward the door leading to the conference room. The wood panels were stout, so nothing could be heard beyond them. He was just there to get his orders and be about his business.
He remembered life in the islands and how simple it had seemed despite the heat and fevers, with the sporadic, violent bursts of warfare interspersed with the lassitude of long, empty days. It was too humid and languid for passionate firebrands like Eliza and her friends to concoct rebellions. But here in Ireland, that restless spirit of independence ran deep into the earth itself, a longing nothing could extinguish. Perhaps there was even a kernel of it hidden inside himself. But that didn't take away his duty.
The door to the council room opened at last, a footman ushering Will inside. General Hardwick waited there alone, his face gray and tired beneath his neatly powdered wig.
"Major Denton," he said, gesturing to a chair. "Please, sit I am sorry you were kept waiting. Our work is never done these days. Will you take some wine?"
"No, thank you, General Hardwick."
"Ah, yes. You are eager to hear your orders, I imagine, to get to work, as we all are."
"Waiting takes a toll on the men, it is true."
"But you have been most admirable in keeping your troops busy, Major. Drilling them and putting them through their paces."
"We are ready to march when the time comes," Will said.
General Hardwick tapped at a pile of papers before him, official-looking documents bearing Castle seals. "General Lake is on his way south to take command," he said tightly, as if he did not entirely care for Lake's new command or the man's brutal reputation. As Will did not Brutality only drove the people closer to the United Irish, away from British rule.
"The Thirteenth is to go to Wexford," the general said. 'Tomorrow."
"Wexford?" Will said, his jaw tight
"Our informers tell us the Catholic Defenders have allied with the United Irishmen and are especially strong there, so trouble is expected any day. A strong military showing will cut them off. I myself will lead a contingent to Carlow."