“Woman, we’ll be no strangers to each other in more than mind and heart if I kiss you so again … unless you wish it. You must tell me …”
She stared into his eyes, realizing as a blush crept over her face at the raw huskiness of his voice, conscious thought swiftly returning, that he was asking if she wanted him to … if they might—
“No, Rose, say nothing. Forgive me. This is not the time or place—God’s teeth, you deserve better than the ground …”
Frowning as if angry with himself, he released her, while Maire felt utterly shaken from the last moments, her heart still thundering.
Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, what might she have said? Flushing because she knew all too well the answer, she tried to avoid Duncan’s eyes, which only made him curse under his breath while he tore off a hunk of crusty bread.
“We should eat. It’s well past midday.”
The sound of the wind rustling through the trees and birds chirping overhead seemed deafening to Maire in the face of Duncan’s silence, his expression grim as he handed her the bread topped with a generous wedge of ewe’s cheese. His darkened mood pained her, and she found herself wishing to see him smile once more, a memory to store for that day when …
Fresh heartache stabbing her, Maire made herself eat, but she had no more appetite than Duncan appeared to. When he handed her the leather flask after taking a draught of wine himself, she knew the weighty silence couldn’t continue between them. Mayhap even now he was thinking again of what she’d said of the roses, mayhap wondering, too, why she didn’t seem more pleased at the way events had turned, and that alone spurred her to speak.
“Duncan?”
He met her eyes, and she felt such a rush of emotion for this man she’d not known lived and breathed only days ago that she found it difficult to continue.
“I … I want to thank you. It was a kind thing—you agreeing to marry me—”
“Kindness had little to do with it, nor pity. I told you that last night.”
Aye, so he had, Maire blushing deeply as she remembered his stirring words, his impassioned kiss, his hands upon her. Duncan’s gaze grown intense, she sensed he shared her thoughts, too.
“I want you for my wife, Rose. I’ve said those words only once before, and thought never to say them again to any woman. But when I believed I’d lost you at the bog …”
His voice died away, and Maire followed his eyes to the weathered gravestones, wondering with a pang if he was thinking of her at that moment or another woman from long ago. Yet was that so terrible a thing? He must have suffered so wretchedly, just as Lady Enid had said. Maire’s throat grew so tight that she could only whisper.
“She was very beautiful, wasn’t she? Gisele?”
Maire saw the flicker of pain cross Duncan’s face even as he once more met her gaze.
“Yes. Like the sun.”
She could tell just in how he’d answered, his voice heavy with memory, that he must have loved Gisele very much. Yet might he feel for her even a little of what he’d known before to want her to be his bride? A fervent wish filled her that she could so move his heart. Maire dropped her gaze to the fragrant roses forgotten in her lap as tears suddenly stung her eyes.
Fool. Aye, so she had called herself last night and so she was again today! Would such a love even be enough to overcome the impossible barrier that birth and circumstance had thrust upon them? It was not to be! How many times must she—
“Rose.”
Maire started, as much at the warm timbre of Duncan’s voice as that his fingers gently lifted her chin to face him. His eyes searched hers.
“Who told you of Gisele?”
Maire didn’t readily answer, fearful that the emotion in her voice might betray her even as a tear slid down her cheek. She drew in her breath when he wiped it away with his thumb, somehow saying brokenly, “L-Lady Enid. And Flanna and Adele made mention of a … a ghost, though I didn’t know until last night of whom they spoke.”
“A ghost.” Duncan sighed heavily though his eyes never left hers. “So Gisele’s been for six years now, haunting me, and it wouldn’t be fair that you not know what came before. I found her cloak floating in a pond …”
His voice grew hoarse and Maire’s heart went out to him, that he should still feel such anguish. But she wasn’t prepared for the vehemence with which he spoke again.
“Her family opposed me from the start—I was penniless, thanks to my three half brothers. After our father’s death they disavowed my mother, saying she had never truly wed my father and no record could be found to prove it, the priest who performed the ceremony long dead. They shut her away in a tower and claimed her mad, while I became no more than the bastard my father had spawned—half-Scots as well, which made me no better than the dirt beneath their feet. A barbarian child to be spit upon and cuffed at every turn, only my name marking me as a FitzWilliam.”
Duncan’s tone become so bitter, Maire was struck even more that his hands had clenched
into fists as if he struggled to contain his anger.
“They took everything from me, my inheritance, my birthright, but I left Northumberland at sixteen and made my way on my own. And Gisele waited for me—we’d known each other since we were children. After years in King John’s army, I made my suit to her family, but a soldier’s pay and the promise of knighthood wasn’t enough. I was believed a bastard … and for that I’ve my own blood family to blame. Their treachery cost me Gisele’s life—we were to wed secretly, there was no other way, our every meeting concealed from her family. Even the last one that morning when she drowned—God’s teeth, and Adele comes to Ireland now that I’m two years a baron and demands she choose for me a bride!”
Maire could only stare while Duncan’s fury echoed around them, her heart pounding at all he had revealed. Yet the roar of blood in her ears grew louder that his gaze hadn’t once strayed from hers, his voice as vehement.
“I have chosen my bride—as Irish as the land that’s become my home. It’s only fitting that our children will bear the blood of their place of birth in their veins. They’ll fight all the harder to protect it, just as I do now.”
Duncan fell silent, still staring into her eyes, though he reached up a hand to touch her face. Maire slowly drew in her breath as once more he traced a thumb over her cheek, something burning in his eyes which made her heart seem to stop as he spoke almost to himself more than her.
“Only God can say … but perhaps it was meant to be this way all along …”
His thumb moving to gently caress her lips, Maire couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe, Lady Enid’s words suddenly burning as intensely in her mind.
I saw how Lord FitzWilliam looked at you tonight, child, that promise has already taken root.
Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, could it really be that Duncan might love—
“My lord!”
Maire gasped even as Duncan grabbed his sword and lunged to his feet and she struggled with his help to rise, too, while Reginald Montfort came galloping astride a lathered steed toward them. The grim-faced knight had barely reined in his mount before Duncan exploded.
“Dammit, man, what the devil—”
“Baron, forgive me, but you said where you could be found if there was need. Word has come from Meath! The O’Melaghlin refuses to answer your summons. And he has sworn that if his grandsons and the harper aren’t freed to return home, he’ll slay five of your tenants for every day that you hold his clansmen imprisoned beyond week’s end.”
Duncan’s oath was blistering to hear, and it seemed in no more than an instant Maire had been lifted onto his stallion and Duncan vaulted into the saddle behind her. Gone was his fervent expression of moments before, his thunderous scowl truly ominous to behold.
She could only imagine what he intended to do about the O’Melaghlin’s threat and his prisoners, and she thought again of the hatred he bore for Ronan, icy chills overwhelming her. As Duncan kicked his steed into a hard gallop, she braced hersel
f against him while his arms tightened protectively around her, the rose she’d swept up from the ground without thinking crushed in her hand.
Chapter 20
Maire still held the wilted petals hours later, the bright glare of guttering torches held aloft hurting her eyes as much as mere shifting in the saddle made her ache with weariness.
Only the formidable walls and towers of Longford Castle looming ahead gave her some comfort that the long ride was nearly done. They had stopped only twice since leaving Dublin, Duncan pushing his men as hard as himself that they might reach the castle not long after dark.
Lady Enid had protested that Maire be made to keep such a fierce pace, but Duncan wouldn’t hear of allowing others to escort her to Meath the next day, which had warmed Maire as well as filled her with despair. At least then she would have had no fear of Duncan and Ronan coming face-to-face if her brother had managed to discover her whereabouts and been waiting somewhere outside the city to rescue her. She was exhausted—much in part because the entire journey she’d dreaded a surprise attack; Ronan would not do otherwise.
But no attack had come and the well-lit battlements of Longford Castle soared now above them, the fortress ablaze with torches. She could hear men shouting from inside the walls and a great creaking of chains as the drawbridge was lowered, while Duncan drew her closer against him. He’d not allowed her to ride by herself either, concerned she would not be able to keep up.
“We’re home, Rose. Forgive me for the haste but there was nothing to be done.”
Home? Fresh pain cut Maire, the memory of the emotion she’d seen burning in Duncan’s eyes haunting her still. Yet even if it was what she so wished for, what she’d long dreamed of, Longford Castle could never be her home. She only nodded, her gaze lifted to the towering gatehouse as they rode across the drawbridge, the pounding of hooves deafening.
When might she leave again? Would she be with Duncan? He had said that he wanted to keep her safe at his side, though she knew he was the one who would not be safe from Ronan as long as she remained with him.
Yet what was she to do? She’d spent the journey, too, wondering futilely how she might leave the castle without notice and wishing Flanna had given her some word as to how she had planned to help her. But Duncan’s former mistress probably hated her now. Maire could hope for no aid there—
“God’s blood, Duncan, I thought you’d never arrive!”
Maire had started at the shout that filled the courtyard, Gerard de Barry running to meet them as commotion seemed to erupt from every corner, more men rushing from the castle, stable hands scrambling forth to help with exhausted mounts. She was astonished, too, when women and children began to stream into the courtyard. The clamor of babes crying and horses snorting and people suddenly all trying to speak at once made her head spin as Duncan reined in his steed.
“They’ve come from the village and surrounding manors,” Gerard shouted above the growing din while Maire heard Duncan swear fiercely. “The news is spreading about the O’Melaghlin—dammit, Duncan, we should hang the prisoners this very night and show that bastard we don’t bow to threats!”
Maire was surprised that Duncan said nothing more, instead grimly dismounting and pulling her into his arms. He didn’t set her down but carried her across the teeming courtyard and into the castle while a surge of humanity coursed behind them. Gerard de Barry came hard on Duncan’s heels.
Inside the bedlam was as intense; pockets of alarmed Irish tenants, men, women, wide-eyed children, and somber-faced knights shepherding their own families joined the throng and followed Duncan into the great hall. Maire stiffened when she saw Adele standing by the massive hearth and looking as regal as a queen, Rufus the Fool and Henry FitzHugh flanking her while her other knights milled nearby. The woman’s eyes grew ice-cold upon spying Maire. Yet Maire was thankfully distracted when a short, balding fellow came running and wringing his hands toward Duncan.
“My lord, my lord, what are we to do? Where will they all sleep? We’ve provisions enough, the storerooms are full, but if more come and I know they will—”
“God’s teeth, Faustis, enough!”
Duncan’s roar served not only to silence his frantic steward, but the entire great hall. No sounds were left but for restless babes and the urgent shushing of their mothers. With all eyes turned toward him, including Rose’s, her lovely face pale—as much, he sensed, from exhaustion as the frantic commotion he had hoped not to encounter—he kept his voice stern.
“All may remain here tonight, but in the morning you will return to your homes.”
“But, lord, we cannot!” cried a ruddy-haired Irishman who Duncan recognized as one of his more prosperous tenants. “Aye, we would be mad to—unless you release your prisoners. The O’Melaghlin has vowed to kill—”
“And I say the O’Melaghlin would be mad to make good his threat and he knows it well for the battle that would come. By the blood of God, I will have peace! Word will be carried this very night to West Meath—an offer of three days more within which the O’Melaghlin may meet me here to speak terms or my hand will be forced.”
“Another three days, Duncan?”
Gerard’s voice incredulous, Duncan had known such a protest would come as he met his knight’s eyes.
“It must be. Much has changed since we spoke—”
“But you swore to me … you gave your word that we’d wait no longer than three days to hang those bastards—”
“So you did, brother, I was there to hear it!” Adele rushed to Gerard’s side in a flurry of emerald samite. “The prisoners were to hang tomorrow.”
His gut clenching as much at the cloying smell of her perfume as the glance exchanged between the two, Duncan did not miss either, how intimately Adele placed her hand upon Gerard’s arm. It was all Duncan could do to keep his voice calm.
“I gave my word, Gerard, that is true, but much has changed as I’ve said.” Duncan’s concern was great as he paused to set Rose upon her feet, her unsteadiness making him keep an arm firmly around her waist. Then he met Adele’s eyes, his words at that moment meant especially for her. “Rose will be my bride—it has been agreed between me and the Justiciar John de Gray. I trust all will treat her with the honor and respect her place as my future wife commands.”
To Adele’s credit, she made no rash reply though her face had grown pink, while Rufus the Fool ducked behind Henry FitzHugh when Duncan shot him a dark glance. Yet Gerard’s low curse drew his attention, his knight’s stance gone stiff with fury.
“What of Robert, Duncan? Will I have no justice? God’s breath, you swore! Does that mean nothing?”
Gerard’s anger echoing around them, Duncan didn’t readily answer. Only their long years of friendship made him bear what he would have considered a personal attack from any other man. Swallowing his own anger, he kept his voice low.
“You’ve long encouraged me to take a wife, and now I’ve chosen one—all the more reason that I wish for peace. What are three days more if they prevent needless bloodshed? Look around you, Gerard! Will you tell these people that your own thirst for vengeance is worth more than their lives, their children’s lives? If we hang the prisoners on the morrow, you know it would bring war—”
“Or it would bring the O’Melaghlin to his knees, but do what you will, Duncan. You’re the baron of Longford, not I.”
Gerard turned and shoved his way through the crowd before Duncan could utter another word, his worst fears confirmed when Adele spun around and rushed after his knight. Imagining well what must have transpired during his absence, he swore vehemently under his breath and glanced at Rose.
She wasn’t looking at him but at some distant point in the great hall, her face grown more ashen as he followed her gaze to where Flanna stood with the strapping Irish tenant she’d agreed not too unhappily to wed. Duncan stiffened. God’s teeth, what next? His castle overrun, Gerard bewitched by Adele, and now a former mistress to plague him?
“Flanna will be go
ne in the morning, Rose, I vow it,” he said to reassure her, drawing her more closely against him. “You’ve nothing to—”
“Please, Duncan, I’m so tired. If I could retire…” Heartache filled Maire at the concern suddenly lining his face, her knees already weak at the unexpected circumstance that had presented itself to her. Still incredulous that Flanna was among the panicked tenants who’d rushed for safety to Longford Castle, she somehow made herself continue. “I’ll be fine, truly, and I know the way—”
“That may be, woman, but all those steps?” He moved to lift her but Maire shook her head and laid a hand upon his chest to stop him, her face firing that so many people were watching them. Yet one particular man standing nearby had spurred her resistance, and she hastened to explain herself while Duncan stared as if surprised at her fingers splayed over his heart.
“You’ve so much to do, aye, a messenger to send, your people to attend to—far too much to see to me now. But … but Clement could help me.”
As Duncan glanced beyond her at the friar, Maire held her breath as much over what he might say as the desperate plan taking shape in her mind. Her gaze once more flew to Flanna, the young woman lifting her chin and staring right back at her. Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, would Duncan’s former mistress even want to speak—
“Clement, I’ve need of you.”
Maire hoped she didn’t appear too relieved at Duncan’s command, though she was trembling as the stout friar hastened forward and gently took her arm.
“Ah, child, you look so weary. Of course you long to retire.”
She couldn’t reply, a great lump forming in her throat when Duncan released her and stepped back to let them pass, his eyes still full of concern.
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