“I’ve influence at Court, Duncan, King John and I have long been more than … acquaintances. One letter to him and I can stop this marriage. He’ll agree a Norman bride is what you need to preserve the barony—”
“Send your letter, woman, and seek your answer, but don’t forget it was my saving the king’s life that won me Longford Castle and all else I hold in Meath. I’ll send a letter of my own, and the Justiciar John de Gray. Then we’ll see if spreading your legs to a king bears more weight than the service of those willing to give their lives for him.”
He didn’t wait for her reply and doubted she possessed one. At least for the moment, her face was as indignantly red as he’d ever seen it. Instead he strode away, shrugging off their encounter as best he could and doing his best as well to force down his fury. God’s teeth, the woman could rile him!
And what she’d said of Rose, he almost wished it were true. He would have enjoyed seeing Adele’s face then, too, to have been called a witch.
Yet it was impossible. The only times he’d heard Rose come close to raising her voice was in anguish over things he’d asked her, and then at Dublin Castle when she had insisted she could not marry him. Thinking of her impassioned response to him last night, it was clear she was relinquishing any fears she might have held. He wondered anew if she might be that much closer to remembering more of her clan. He wanted to face them and have the matter of their marriage agreed to and done, and well before any letters need be sent to King John.
“Duncan!”
He looked down the length of the smaller assembly hall, astonished to see Rose coming toward him in as much a rush as she was able. And behind her was the commander of the guards for the dungeon, the burly fellow appearing none too pleased to be following in her wake.
Duncan’s gaze flew back to Rose, concern filling him that she looked so pale and clearly winded. Her breathing labored as if she’d just exerted herself, he gestured for her to wait for him to reach her but she ignored him, her expression doggedly determined.
“Duncan, this cannot go on! You must do something!”
Longing to embrace her, he was as astonished, too, by her outburst as that she stopped several feet from him and wheeled to wave her arm at the commander of the guards.
“I insisted he accompany me when we heard from his men that you’d returned. I’m so glad we found you. We must speak—”
“And I’ve been looking for you, no idea where you could have gone.”
“The dungeon, Duncan, to see the O’Melaghlins! I told the serving girl Ona to watch for you so you might know, but she must have gone back to the kitchen—”
“The dungeon, woman?”
Chapter 25
Maire gulped at how quiet Duncan’s voice had grown, his stance no longer relaxed but stiff with tension. Yet she rushed on and gave him a vigorous nod, her heart thundering with indignation that had only mounted during the long and laborious climb up the dungeon’s steps.
“Have you been to see them, Duncan? They’ve scarcely been given any food or water, they told me as much, and even the two boys Innis and Tynan have been beaten mercilessly—oh!”
He had taken her arm so abruptly and pulled her aside that Maire half stumbled, the commander of the guards clearing his throat and uncomfortably looking the other way. Yet Dun-can’s grip was so firm she’d had no fear she might fall though she felt concern enough at how hard his expression had grown, his voice still ominously low.
“The dungeon, Rose? In God’s name, that’s no fit place for you!”
Maire had expected as much, though mayhap not his vehemence, and she decided to stay as close to the truth as she dared in her haste to explain. “Aye, Duncan, I knew you would think so, but it struck me—I don’t know why … mayhap because of all the commotion since we came back from Dublin. I feared the prisoners hadn’t been told they had three days more—that they wouldn’t be executed today! And I was right. Gerard de Barry had told them nothing—”
“Nothing?”
Duncan looked stunned, and she felt his grip tighten upon her arm while he seemed to speak more to himself than her.
“I ordered it last night, after you’d retired. I went to find Gerard and told him to inform the prisoners … and he said this morning that it had been done.”
Maire didn’t know what to say, astonished that Gerard would have purposely deceived Duncan even as he suddenly shook his head.
“No, it was done and the O’Melaghlins lied to you—”
“But I know they didn’t lie, Duncan, aye, think of it! It makes sense Gerard wouldn’t tell them the truth, he hates them so much. He wanted them to suffer—”
“Enough, woman, we’ll speak of this no more!”
He hadn’t shouted at her, but his voice had been so fierce that Maire gaped at him, tears smarting her eyes. At once she saw regret cross his face, and he swept her into his arms and hugged her tightly. In that instant Maire understood that his anger hadn’t been so much at her or anything she’d said as that he couldn’t accept Gerard had lied to him. But such a matter was between the two of them, not her. Risking that she might press him further, she nonetheless could not hold her tongue.
“Please, Duncan, the prisoners need more food and drink. And an oil lamp at least so they’re not left in the dark. If the O’Melaghlin comes to Meath, will he not look with more favor upon peace if his grandsons and Finian have been fairly treated?”
“Finian?” Duncan pulled away from her to stare into her eyes. Taking heart that he no longer sounded so angry, she blushed at his scrutiny.
“Aye, the harper. For me, Duncan, would you allow these few things for me?”
He didn’t answer, but she could feel in the palpable easing of tension from his body that he had acquiesced even without a word. Just as she realized with a start as he bent his head to kiss her burning cheek that they would not be talking of such things at all if he’d guessed the truth of her clan—saints help her, that fear had skipped altogether from her mind in her desire to assist the O’Melaghlins!
“For you, woman, I’ll order it done … but only for you.”
Maire shivered at the warmth of his breath tickling her ear, and she imagined from the sudden hungriness in his eyes that he yearned to kiss her more thoroughly if not for the commander of the guards standing so near. She blushed all the more deeply as she heard the man clear his throat again, Duncan finally speaking to release him from his discomfort.
“Did you pay heed to my bride-to-be’s requests? More food and drink for the prisoners, a lamp?”
“Yes, my lord, though it wasn’t my intention to overhear—”
“It’s no matter, man, just see that these things are done within the hour. Allow them warm water to bathe as well, and find them tunics to wear. I’d wager their clothing was ripped from their backs…”
As he fell silent, Maire wondered if once more Duncan was thinking of Gerard, her suspicion confirmed when the commander of the guards turned to move away. Duncan’s voice was grim with one last order.
“If anyone questions you, Sir Gerard, anyone, tell them to speak to me. And no one is to lift a hand to the prisoners without my explicit command, or to harry them in any way. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord, no doubt of it.”
“Good. Leave us.”
The commander of the guards appeared only too eager to oblige, while Duncan seemed to have forgotten the man entirely as he pulled Maire closer.
“There, woman. Does that please you?”
She nodded, unable to speak for her heart hammering in her throat at how husky his voice had grown.
“Good enough, then. Do you know what would please me?”
She stared at him, heat creeping once more over her face as he gave a slow teasing smile.
“That I wore no armor. It’s in the way.”
“I-in the way?”
Now he nodded, and lifted her into his arms.
***
Maire’s head still spu
n at how quickly Duncan had carried her back to his rooms, only stopping once to tell a servant passing by the steps to the tower that he wanted wine and food brought to them—but that it must be left outside the door. He did not want to be disturbed.
Those weighty words alone had set her heart pounding, but now as she sat at the edge of the bed and watched him divest himself of his mail shirt—a hauberk, he’d just called it—she felt as if he might as well be undressing her from the ravenous way his eyes swept her.
“Gambeson.”
She shivered at the low huskiness of his voice, feeling as awkward as an untried maiden as he stripped off a padded garment and dropped it to the floor with his hauberk and mailed stockings, followed shortly by his undertunic damp with sweat that he peeled from his powerful body. Yet she wasn’t untried, her flesh already burning as she recalled all they’d done the night before … though Duncan had hinted as he’d deposited her on the bed that there were things between a man and woman she still did not know.
Just as she would not have imagined that a man whose body she’d found so physically beautiful in firelight could be three times so in the bright sunshine streaming through the narrow arched windows. Unable not to, she drank in the wonder of him as he stood, taut of torso and limb, heavily muscled, before her in calf-length breeches. She found herself brazenly eager for him to be rid of them as well.
“Braies.”
Maire’s gaze flew to his face, that handsome teasing smile making her flesh burn even hotter as he beckoned for her to come to him. Yet she held back, staring at him in confusion even as spoke.
“Rose … I need your help.”
Maire could not imagine how, but she obliged him, her heart so full that her clumsy gait never seemed to attract his attention. It never had.
He stared into her eyes, that alone drawing her, and she told herself as fervently as last night not to think of Ronan and mayhap Niall hiding so close by outside Longford Castle or that her determination remained as painfully fierce that somehow, she must find a way to leave Duncan. For now, she only wanted to pretend again that things were different, that happiness awaited them and not the cold comfort of memories that someday soon must sustain her.
Maire drew in her breath as Duncan caught her hands and guided them to the cord at his waist that secured his breeches. The masculine scent of him filling her senses, she untied the cord with trembling fingers while still he held her gaze, nor did he allow her to stop there. Without speaking, he covered her hands with his and guided them to the sides of his waist, where she instinctively understood and began to draw his braies slowly from his hips.
Now Duncan sucked in his breath, his massive chest rising and falling as deeply as she felt warmth building inside her, and she lowered her eyes to the thick line of hair descending from his navel to a dark thatch she’d not fully seen before. Yet just as his swollen flesh sprang free, he stayed her hands and swept his braies himself from his body; the garment had no sooner dropped to the floor when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
His mouth was hard, his breathing harder, Maire suddenly so dizzy she felt her knees giving way. She clung to him, lost to the power of his embrace, the wonder that never ceased to engulf her even as she knew he wouldn’t let her fall. Yet his kiss had no sooner begun to deepen when he abruptly drew away, leaving her to stare up at him flushed and trembling and breathless.
“My armor is gone, woman … but what of this?”
His hands filled with the pink silk of her gown, already he was drawing it up and over her hips; Maire leaned into him to steady herself as he quickly pulled the garment over her head. Still light-headed, she must have lost her balance, for the next she knew, she was being carried to the bed, where Duncan divested her of her camise with as much haste.
Only when she was lying naked beside him did he finally pause to sweep his gaze over her, and she saw in his eyes stark admiration that made her know she pleased him as well. His hand trembled as he reached out to splay his fingers over her breast, long, strong fingers, and she gasped softly at the warmth of his palm that matched the stirring timbre of his voice.
“Last night I could not fully see your beauty—only touch to know it. But now I can watch you, woman … watch you.”
As if to mark his words, he drew his fingertips across her nipple, staring into her eyes even as she sharply drew in her breath and shivered. Her response seemed only to encourage him, and he bent his head to first kiss her breast, the warmth of his breath against her skin thrilling her, before drawing her aching nipple into his mouth.
A low moan slipped from Maire’s throat; she couldn’t have imagined such pleasure—had he done so to her last night? He began to suckle hungrily and she thought no more, his hand gliding down her belly to cup and gently squeeze her woman’s mound. That made her moan again but she fell breathlessly silent, trembling when his fingers slipped inside her while his tongue played and teased at her breast.
It was so sweet a thing, yet like torture, and she felt as if she were splitting apart to know such pleasure where his fingers circled and taunted her and that where his mouth drew so ravenously upon her. She could not have been more startled when Duncan suddenly ceased both and raised himself above her, his dark eyes burning into hers.
He said nothing, as if daring her to read his mind, and she sensed then as her heart quickened that he intended to do something of which he’d only hinted. He bent to kiss her, his mouth impassioned against hers, his tongue plundering deep, but just as quickly he was gone from her. Maire stared at him wide-eyed when he shifted his body to settle himself between her legs and then slipped his hands beneath her bottom to raise her to his mouth.
She threw back her head even as his tongue speared into her, and she tried, wholly shocked, to slide away from him but he held her fast. Her flesh burning, her body trembling uncontrollably, she could only surrender to the onslaught of his mouth, his tongue, his utter possession of her suddenly become all the more complete.
Unbidden, she opened herself to him, her fingers clutching wildly at linen sheets twisted and rumpled from the night before. As if from some distant place she could see he watched her, his eyes still burning as she burned and began to writhe upon the bed though he held her to him, claiming her with a kiss more deeply intimate than any she’d known.
From that same distant place she heard herself cry out his name, begging him for release and he gave it to her, Duncan lifting his mouth from her and rising between her thighs to thrust himself into her, filling her, Maire knowing nothing else.
Only sensation rocked her, and the purest of emotion; she did not realize until long, long moments later after Duncan had collapsed upon her, rolling to one side with her held fiercely in his arms, that tears streaked her cheeks. Not wanting him to see them, she kept her face buried against his chest for as many precious moments, simply listening to him breathe, his heartbeat slowing again to a deep rhythmic cadence.
It was so sweet, and yet as much torture as anything that had gone before, that Maire was not surprised when fresh tears came to torment her. Still she kept her face buried but she felt, too, Duncan tense, and he drew away to look at her, a finger gently grazing her cheek.
“I wanted to give you pleasure, woman, but that it has made you weep? God’s teeth, have I hurt you?”
Chapter 26
Duncan’s voice filled with concern, Maire hastily shook her head to reassure him though she couldn’t seem to stay her tears. Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, if she didn’t stop she would surely give herself away! He would sense that there was something terribly wrong, which there was—
“It’s Adele, isn’t it?”
His voice was angry now, and when Maire didn’t readily answer, he swore under his breath and lifted himself onto his elbow.
“I know she came here—she stopped me to say as much when I was looking for you. By the blood of God, has she made you some threat?”
Maire thought at once of what Adele had said about her drowning
in the moat, but she wasn’t sure it had been a true threat or just a ploy to frighten her. Again her silence seemed to anger Duncan all the more, no matter her tears had finally stopped, his expression as hard as stone.
“Damn that woman! Not only does she torment you, but lies about you as well. She claims you told her that she should take her retainers and leave Meath—”
“I did.”
Maire felt her face grow warm at Duncan’s incredulous look, and she wondered if he might be displeased with her now. Quickly she sought to explain. “I was angry, Duncan, aye, just thinking of what your family had done to you and your poor mother. So when Adele came here to say she had no intention of abiding me as your bride—”
“You told her you’d have her thrown into the moat.”
At Duncan’s slow smile, Maire gaped at him, not knowing why she should be so surprised Adele would have revealed that to him.
“And she claimed that you called her a witch. Is that true? Did you call my beloved half sister a witch?”
His eyes as full of admiration as gentle teasing, Maire found she couldn’t help teasing him herself. “Beloved, is she? Mayhap I’d best not answer then—oh!”
Duncan had rolled her onto her back so suddenly and gently pinned her shoulders to the bed that Maire lost her breath, but she knew she’d have lost it anyway at how handsome he was, staring down at her.
“Promise me something, will you?”
His voice husky and warm, she could only nod, the boyish gleam in his eyes doing as much to render her speechless.
“Promise me when next you call Adele a witch, that I be present to see her face?”
Maire answered his smile with her own, feeling as giddy to see this playful side of him as he seemed to be enjoying her. Yet he sobered so suddenly that she did, too, confusion filling her.
“Duncan … ?”
Wild Roses Page 20