“Aye, so he does,” Niall agreed, again to her astonishment. “And if you persist long enough, mayhap he’ll relent and allow you to ride with us.”
It was on the tip of Triona’s tongue to tell him that she was already planning to accompany them on their raids, with or without Ronan’s blessed permission, but she decided it wouldn’t be wise to reveal too much. “You think so?” she asked instead, feigning a hopeful tone.
“It’s possible. Just remember, Triona, if there’s anything I can do to help you, you must let me know.”
To help her? Now truly amazed, Triona was about to ask him why he was being so accommodating, but a sudden commotion caused her to slam the door and heave the chest back in place.
“Niall? I thought you’d gone to change your clothes. What the devil are you doing here?”
Ronan! Her heart hammering, Triona pressed her ear to the doorjamb and listened breathlessly.
“Nothing much, brother,” came Niall’s calm response. “I saw the servants running in and out, and thought I’d see what all the fuss—”
“Triona is causing the fuss, in case you haven’t already guessed.”
Hearing Ronan’s determined footfalls approaching the door, Triona once again braced herself against the barricade. She heard the key turn, felt him test the door and finding it blocked, he warned through his teeth, “By God, woman, open this door or I’ll break it down.”
“Good, I hope you do! You’ll have nothing left to lock and I’ll have a nice breezeway! It’s a bit too stuffy in here for my liking.”
Triona grew tense when it became quiet outside the door…too quiet. She screamed in surprise when the chest began to move beneath her, Ronan shoving himself into the room as if her barricade had been no more substantial than a bag of feathers.
“Easy, brother, I heard she simply wants her maid,” Niall’s raised voice carried to her as she darted to the bed.
Whirling, she found the room suddenly full of people—Ronan standing at the front, his expression truly ominous to behold, the maidservants gaping at her as if she were mad and Niall in the background, smiling encouragingly. Daring to believe she had found a friend and ally, she threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin.
“That’s right. I only want my own maid—”
“Bring in the tub.”
Triona started at Ronan’s grated command, then watched wide-eyed as the servants scuttled to do his bidding. It seemed no more than an instant had passed before a large wooden tub was being rolled into the room.
“And the water. Cold now, but she’s only herself to blame. We’ll dunk her if we have to.”
Understanding dawned as brimming buckets were emptied into the tub, Triona walking backward from Ronan in disbelief. “You can’t be meaning to…to make me…”
“Exactly, Triona. I sent these women to assist you at your bath and I intend to stand here and see that they do. And if by some foolishness you still insist upon defying me, then be warned that I’m prepared to see to the chore myself.”
Her jaw dropped. Glancing around her in desperation, she saw to her dismay that Niall had vanished. Oddly, knowing she was alone helped her to recover herself and bolster her courage. Aye, there were more than a few ways to taunt this overbearing lout.
“Very well, if you insist,” she said pleasantly, fighting the urge to grin at the wary surprise in Ronan’s eyes. After tugging off her leather shoes, she rolled up one trouser leg and dipped her big toe into the water. “Hmmm, just right. I’ve always loved cold baths. Just like swimming naked in the lough.”
With that she shrugged out of her jerkin, her action greeted by shocked gasps from the maidservants as they glanced from Ronan to Triona.
She set to work at her trousers, undaunted. Keeping her eyes trained boldly upon Ronan, she dropped her belt to the oak floor with a plunk, and once again the women gasped, their faces turning bright red with embarrassment.
“May I ask you something?” Triona said, Ronan’s resolute stare making her feel suddenly quite nervous as she began to slip her trousers over her hips. Thankfully her shirt was long and afforded her some cover, but when Ronan’s gaze traveled with her trousers down her legs, she felt a bewildering flush of heat from her scalp to her toes.
Damn him, was he really going to watch her then? She would have thought he’d have left once she had proved she would honor his command. But he looked as if he had no intention of leaving. As he continued to stare at her, she began to feel even more flustered and unsure of herself.
“I said may I ask you—”
“I heard you the first time,” Ronan interrupted, although in truth it was impossible to concentrate on anything being said with Triona stripping to the skin right in front of him.
He had thought himself provoked enough to make good on his threat, but now his anger was being replaced by something far more potent. It didn’t help either that with her jerkin gone, her hardened nipples could plainly be seen beneath her shirt as well as the tantalizing outline of her breasts…high and saucy, and generous enough to fill a man’s hands…
A sudden splash jolted his gaze back to Triona’s face as she sank with a sharp gasp into the tub, her trousers pooled on the floor where she had stepped out of them. Her eyes were very wide as she worked at the single tie at her throat with trembling fingers, the lower sodden half of her shirt floating around her.
“You can see that I intend to bathe,” she said in a small voice that he’d never heard from her before. “But I’m not used to having so many servants around me. Is it possible that Aud…?”
“I will consider it. And the return of your pets. But the door will remain locked until all six points we discussed earlier are satisfied. I will be obeyed, Triona. I think you can see that now.”
She nodded, her hands gripping the sides of the tub. Then, as she inhaled raggedly, her beautiful eyes growing even wider, she started to lift her dripping shirt over her head. Ronan felt his body grow rigid as first her narrow waist was revealed, her bare flesh the color of sweet cream…then the lushly rounded undersides of her breasts.
“I’ll see you at supper,” was all he could manage before he turned and abruptly left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Triona slowly dropped her shirt as the key scraped in the lock. Her hands shaking uncontrollably, her flesh puckered with goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold water, she waited until Ronan’s footsteps had receded before uttering a blistering oath that made the servants gasp in shock all over again.
Chapter Six
“Ah, sweeting, you look so lovely! Like an angel!”
“Mayhap, Aud, but I feel like I’m being smothered,” Triona grumbled as she entered the noisy feasting-hall, her loyal maid waiting by the doors to greet her. She tugged at the green silk sheathing her hips. “Ronan’s sister must be thin as a pole—either that or I’ve forgotten just how confining these miserable things can be.”
“You didn’t like the last gown you wore either,” Aud said with a wry shake of her head. “And that was ten years past. I can still see you stomping into the house, your gown ripped from hem to thigh to make room for your legs, and then you standing there and swearing you’d never wear another. The O’Toole was laughing and Lady Alice was arguing…”
“Until you spoke up like the goodhearted soul you’ve always been and offered to stitch me a pair of trousers,” said Triona, remembering her elation when Lady Alice had thrown up her hands in defeat. “That put an end to the matter quick enough.”
“Aye, your good mother lost all control of you then. After that, you were your father’s daughter through and through.”
Triona didn’t reply, the fond recollection vanishing when she suddenly noticed the clansmen who’d escorted her to the hall had positioned themselves at the entrance. She glared at the two men and they stared stonily back, crossing their arms over their chests.
Obviously Ronan expected she might try to retire without his sainted permission, she thou
ght irritably as she moved with Aud away from the doors. “Are these O’Byrnes treating you well?” she asked, concerned.
“Aye, well enough. They gave me my own sleeping room in the servants’ house and then sent me straight to work in the kitchen. But I’d rather be mending your clothes than chopping onions and turnips. I’d like to be with you, sweeting.”
“So you shall,” Triona muttered though she plastered a smile upon her face just for Ronan’s benefit.
She could see him now at the head table, Niall seated to his left and an empty place at his right, and she could feel his eyes upon her like a disconcerting weight. Already he was watching her, searching for any hint of defiance.
But he’d see none tonight, at least not what he expected. She wanted that damned door left unlocked and the freedom to move about the stronghold at will. So for now, let him think that his rude bullying had left her more inclined to obey him…no matter how much it galled her.
“Come on, Aud. You’re sitting next to me.” Triona took her maid’s bony arm but to her surprise Aud held back, her large dark eyes doubtful.
“I don’t know if I should. I want you to find a good husband, I’ve made no secret of that, but I’ve been thinking since we arrived and I don’t like that the O’Byrne might force some man upon you. Your father wanted him to give you a home and protect you, not marry you off against your will! If I go up to that table, I might just tell him so!”
Amazed by this show of temper in a woman usually so good-natured, Triona gave her maid’s narrow shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Dearest Aud. Don’t worry that Ronan will have his way. He won’t, you know. If there’s a husband for me, I’ll find him myself.”
“Aye, and you won’t hear me defending him again, not after he hoisted you over his shoulders as if you were a sack of corn and not the daughter of Fineen O’Toole!”
Aud was right. Ronan wasn’t just a murderer and a liar, but a damned tyrant. That was clear enough from the way he’d forced himself into her room and demanded that she bathe right in front of him. And how dare he insist that she conform to his bloodless idea of the proper Irish maiden? She wasn’t wax to be twisted and pulled into any shape he fancied.
“I’ll show him a proper maiden,” Triona groused through clenched teeth, nodding for Aud to follow her. Aye, when she was done with Ronan, he’d wish he had never heard of Lady Emer and her six precious gifts.
That thought made it easier for Triona to smile; as demurely as she could she proceeded to the main table with her head slightly bowed.
She could feel everyone watching her—clansmen, wives, their children—all conversation momentarily suspended except for an occasional chuckle or whispered aside. Imagining that talk had flown about Ronan’s humiliating treatment of her, she couldn’t wait to give these O’Byrnes something to really set their tongues wagging.
But not yet, she told herself firmly. Ronan rose and came around the table to meet her. Amazingly enough, he had traded his black devil’s garb for more festive wear. In fact, she wasn’t prepared for how handsome he looked in a tunic as deep blue as the Irish sea, the color accentuating the steely gray of his eyes.
She wasn’t prepared either for the familiar way his gaze moved over her…as if now he somehow knew her better. Vividly those heart-pounding moments in her room came back to her, the way he’d watched her every movement as she undressed, how breathless she had become, how strange she had felt—
“I see you chose to honor my command. Very wise.”
Startled from her thoughts, Triona followed his gaze to her gown. How he must be gloating! Drawing a quick breath, she met his eyes, grateful for the arrogance in his tone. That proved more steadying than anything he could have said. “You approve?” she asked softly, fearing if she spoke any louder she’d scream.
Ronan ran his eyes over her again, thoughtfully.
If he had thought a maiden’s garb would suit her, he could never have imagined how much. The shimmering emerald silk seemed woven just for her, the rich jewel-like color making her hair shine redder, her fair skin appear much more flawless, her stunning eyes that much greener.
Eyes whose mood did not match her carefully composed expression. Her resentment was clear and put him on his guard. He was not fool enough to believe that this hoyden would bend so easily to his will. Far from it. He’d heard the scathing curse that she had flung at him from the tub.
“Approve?” he echoed grimly. “My approval will be won when you accept the husband I choose for you. Now come. You’ve delayed our meal long enough.”
Feeling her tense as he took her arm, Ronan knew she had been tempted to resist him. But she quickly collected herself, asking in a tone that this time held an undeniable edge, “Is there room enough for Aud? She’s more a beloved aunt to me than a servant.”
“Very well, she can sit beside you.”
Anything to preserve some peace, Ronan told himself as he led Triona to her chair, Aud following behind. And if the talkative maid lent him some more useful information about his unpredictable charge, so much the—
“Oh…oh, no!”
“What the devil…?” Ronan caught Triona just as she stumbled forward, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her against him. Looking down into her flushed face, he fought the urge to embrace her more tightly, her silk-clad body seductively warm and soft.
“I—I must have tripped,” Triona lied, disconcerted by the strength of Ronan’s arms. She had planned to fall flat on her face. Still determined to appear the clumsiest maiden in the land—so awkward and ungainly that no man would ever want her—she took a step backward in such a way that she trounced soundly on Ronan’s toes. She had to fight not to smile when his startled expletive rose to the very rafters.
“By God, woman, watch what you’re doing!”
“It’s the gown! My foot is caught in the hem!” she cried as she feigned losing her balance once more, twisting at the waist so suddenly that her elbow jabbed him right in the ribs. As he exhaled in pain, she blurted in hasty apology, “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. Wearing a long skirt isn’t anything like trousers. I can hardly move.”
“So stand still!”
Triona froze, her ears ringing from his command, his grip bruising as he righted her. Yet any discomfort she felt at that moment was worth it. Ronan looked so exasperated that she was tempted to laugh. Delighted with her performance, she lowered her head so she wouldn’t give her scheme away.
“Sit down. Carefully.”
As she did what she was told, she caught Niall’s amused wink out of the corner of her eye. She winked back as Ronan retook his seat, then she sighed loudly as if thoroughly disgusted with herself for creating such a scene. Lifting her eyes to look out across the huge room, she realized from all the stunned faces that she had indeed fooled them all, heightening her sense of satisfaction.
“Don’t think this incident has changed my mind,” Ronan added with finality. “You’ll grow used to wearing gowns soon enough.”
When goats fly, Triona thought smugly to herself as Ronan gestured for the servants to begin carrying in the meal.
“You may keep that gown, if you’d like,” a sweet sounding voice said. “I think it looks far better on you than it could ever look on me.”
Triona turned, focusing for the first time on the pale lovely girl seated next to Niall. She guessed at once that this must be Maire from her thick midnight tresses and gray eyes, so like Ronan’s. Triona suspected, too, that she and Maire must be very close in age. Yet there all similarity ended. Triona had always prided herself upon being healthy as a horse, but this poor girl looked fragile enough to break.
“I hope you’ll keep the others, too.” A delicate smile curved lips the color of faded pink roses as Maire glanced fondly at her two older brothers and then back to Triona. “Ronan and Niall spoil me overmuch with so many gowns. I really don’t need them.”
Triona wanted to spout that she didn’t need them either, but the offer had been made so generous
ly, so graciously, she refrained. “You’re very kind.”
“Aye, she is,” Ronan interjected tersely. He leaned forward as if to block Maire from her view, giving Triona the distinct impression that he didn’t want the two of them to converse.
He must be afraid some of her bad unmaidenlike qualities might rub off on his dear sister, she thought, affronted. Just for that, she decided to spite him by inviting Maire to come and see her tomorrow. But before she could say a word, Triona felt a nudge to her arm as Aud leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“She can’t walk, sweeting.”
Stunned, Triona met Aud’s eyes. Their conversation was masked by the mounting clatter in the hall.
“The O’Byrne carried her himself into supper. I talked to one of the servants while I was waiting for you at the door, and she said a terrible childhood fever was the cause. A shame, it is, too. Such a pretty girl.”
A shame, indeed, Triona thought guiltily, glancing beyond Ronan to Maire’s fine-boned profile. Shame on her for pretending to trip all over herself when two seats down from her was a young woman who couldn’t walk at all. Triona flushed uncomfortably and looked down at the table.
Her wine cup was full so she lifted it and took a long sip, the amber liquid’s cool sweetness improving her mood. She had never tasted anything so good; they’d never had wine as fine as this vintage in Imaal.
She noted for the first time, too, that her cup gleamed of silver, as did the plate set in front of her. In fact the entire table was set with silver: ewers, knives, spoons and bowls. Glancing around the hall, she saw to her amazement that most clansmen held mazers with bright silver rims or shiny cups like her own.
“Is this a special feast night?” she asked. When Ronan didn’t reply, she added conversationally, “It surely must be. I’ve never seen so much silver. We had fine plate in my father’s household, but only enough for his table. And we never used it except for the most important feast days.”
Lords of Ireland II Page 119