by Gail Link
He cast a glance over his shoulder at the land that he had left. Ahead were the chalk cliffs, behind were the sloping farmlands that housed his children.
His children. The memory of them tugged at his heart with a bittersweet pull. He had thought to make her come with him with the lure of the child. She wouldn't have let herself be separated long; 'twas evident when he saw her with them.
What had changed his mind? She was sure to be asking that question. He threw a glance in Auliffe's direction. He was convinced Auliffe thought him mad. But it was Declan's eyes.
When they had stopped to buy fresh horses, he saw his son's eyes clearly. They were Sybelle's. A misty shade of blue overlaced with gray. He saw again her eyes wet with tears for her loss, begging for her child as she had never done for herself. And Rolf found that it wounded him to see her begging for anything, especially to him. He wanted her, but not that way. That was taking again. In her eyes he could see the power that he held over heras she held over him. Only Sybelle could make him risk losing forever all that he now held dear. She held custody of his future; only she could grant it to him.
It was a risk, but one that he had to take. In his son's eyes he saw the reflection of love. And it came to him in that instant that it could not be forced. It must be given freely to have value.
Had he been a fool? Christ's blood, but he hoped not, for he desired to spend no more time than necessary in the hell of solitude in which he existed now. He wanted her, beside him, for always.
Chapter 32
Once again she was overwhelmed by the harsh beauty of the rugged landscape. It had changed little over the past year; it was she who had changed. Love and experience had wrought that metamorphosis; she was still Sybelle, though altered.
She cast her gaze at the covered cart that made its way over the rocky road. She smelled the ocean. Soon they would be there, the final destination.
She had chosen not to ride inside the coach. She needed to feel the air, watch the changing scenery, absorb that which was Rolf's domain. Lugh barked in excitement, roving eagerly over familiar territory. Her high-spirited mare pranced along, eager for a run. Sybelle wished that she could indulge both the animal and herself. Still, she held onto the reins and promised both of them, "Soon."
The June wind, soft and gentle, spun her hair behind her like a honey-brown badge of distinction, as she pulled closer to the carriage to peer inside. The twins were sleeping, and Alyce, who had chosen to accompany her, along with her husband, was dozing peacefully.
It had been two days since they left the confines of Castle Derran. Knowing that the twins could not be expected to endure the rigors of a hard, fast ride, she ordered Sir John, who was bidden by Hugh to escort her to Killroone's keep, to see to the transportation of her children and her baggage. Sybelle had spent almost a week at Castle Derran upon her return to Ireland, sorting out business regarding her estate and choosing an able steward for her property while she was away. He was instructed to oversee the accounts and provide her with reports at Killroone's castle.
Each step brought her closer to the man she had chosen and further from the life she had known. But this was her choice. Her responsibility. She could recall vividly the effect that her decision to come back to Ireland, and most particularly to the Wolf's stronghold, had on her family.
With the return of her son to her control, Sybelle had realized just what Rolf was doing. He was giving her the sign that she had asked for, the consideration for her feelings to decide not only her own future, but that of her children and Rolf's too. She was aware of a sense of power, and of the equal power that Rolf possessed over her. And he had willingly shared it with her by extending to her the focus of her dominion over him. It was a revelation to be cherished and hugged close.
When she announced her resolve to her family, they had reacted as she expected. Her sisters joined her in her rooms later that evening as she fed the twins and gave them to Alyce for their bath. Audrey offered to bathe Deirdre as Alyce took Declan. Sybelle watched her sister and thought that she would make a fine mother, for Audrey was calm and patient. Yet she knew that Audrey wanted only to enter a nunnery. She felt called to the religious life, though she would bend to their father's wishes, Sybelle knew, if he said otherwise. Not so she and Clare. They were more attuned to their own wishes, their own needs. Her sisters were like two sides of a coin. Would her own children be like that? Or would they inherit the headstrong nature of both their parents?
She signalled for Clare to remain when the others left.
"I want you to come to me. Promise."
Clare nodded her head, her arms around her sister. "That I shall." She wanted to divulge her secret to Sybelle, seek her advice; instead she chose to keep it. "Be happy, Belle," was all she said.
Sybelle cast a glance at the sleeping infants, and a wide smile played upon her lips. "How could I not be?" she asked softly. "I have all that I could want, more than I ever expected.
"Oh Clare," she sighed, hugging her arms tightly together. "I never imagined what life would hold for me. How very naive I was. And how much my world has been turned around these past months." She confided in Clare, ''I had never thought to feel the depth of emotion that Rolf brings forth from me. A marriage of true minds was what I sought, if married I had to be. I would have settled for less, and believed myself adequately compensated if he was kind and good. I never thought to stir beyond the acceptable." Sybelle closed her eyes.
"What of the pain?" Clare posed.
Sybelle's eyes flew open. She caught a wistfulness and an honesty in Clare's question. "Aye, there is pain in love, in life. It is balanced by joy. I have learnt that lesson well."
Sybelle recalled the girl that she had been when she and Etain had discussed the potency of passion that long ago day in the cottage by the ocean. She was so very sure, so adamant that she would never succumb to the devastating emotion that Etain described so vividly. Etain was so much wiser. She now possessed a measure of that wisdom and acceptance of the overwhelming force of love. She had cautioned Clare, and knew that her words would have an influence.
"Heed your heart, sweet sister," she said as she pulled Clare into her arms, exchanging hugs. "Only make sure that when you find a man, he deserves what you will bestow on him. I would urge prudence, but I fear that you will do what you will."
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They stopped for a quick meal and to rest the horses, and to allow Sybelle some privacy to nurse her children.
When she emerged from the coach, she accepted a mug of ale from Sir John. A grin tugged at her lips as she saw the look on his face. "I fear that you are in a quandary about this duty?"
He quaffed his ale and nodded his head. "Aye, that I am, my lady. 'Twas only last year that I was organizing plans for your rescue, and now you be going back to the man who held you hostage." He shook his head.
Sybelle took his hand and brought the scarred knuckles to her lips. "And I thank you for that, Sir John. You have been like a second father to me," she admitted, causing him to clear his throat with emotion. "Will you wish me happiness?"
"As always, my lady, 'tis all that I could ask for you. If you have been able to put aside all that has happened, then I shall respect your wishes."
"I love him."
"If you say so," he concluded, thinking that there must be something to that grand feeling, if the earl and his countess and the Lady Sybelle all felt it.
She finished her drink before preparing to remount her horse, Sybelle appreciated the honesty of his skepticism. He would, perforce, see in Rolf that man she had chosen and why, if she could but persuade him to stay a few weeks at the keep.
Her thoughts drifted back once again as she felt the measured steps of her horse beneath her. She and Duvessa had shared much time together. She could recall Duvessa's words of encouragement for following her heart. Then, the words that confirmed what she had suspected.
"'Twas I who sent to Rolf to tell hi
m of the children," Duvessa admitted a week after the incident.
"I thought as much," Sybelle responded.
"You do not hate me?"
"No. I love you, Duvessa." Sybelle meant that, for she had come to care deeply for her father's bride, so near in age to her own. "I know you, and 'twas not done out of spite, or malice, but because you believed that what you were doing was right."
Duvessa squeezed her hand. "When I saw you through all those long months without the comfort that your man should have been providing, I feared you would allow your fierce pride, which"she pointed out"you share in abundance with my dear cousin, to force you into being alone. I considered that mayhap I could do something to rectify the situation. And I did feel he had a right to know that you were carrying his child. 'Twas only when I saw you sitting there with Deirdre that I knew, somehow, I'd produced harm when I meant only to heal."
"'Twas not your fault, Duvessa."
"Should he have kept Declan . . . "
"I would have gone for my son."
Aye, Sybelle thought as the mare picked her way over some rough terrain, I would have gone and given in. She knew that had she gone that way, it would have eventually crushed her and destroyed any hope of a true marriage; but she would have risked that to keep her son. If he had forced her once again, taken away her right to come freely, Sybelle knew that anything she felt would have been replaced with a deep resentment, which would have killed her love and turned her respect for him to ashes.
Her father had been the hardest to leave. His continued silence about her decision irritated her until finally she cornered him. They had been riding, at her request, one last time, for she was to leave on the morrow. They had stopped beneath a stand of trees and tethered their horses while they strolled, arm in arm.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Of when you were a little girl," Hugh replied.
"And you were the perfect, handsome knight, come to life from the musical tales of the jongleur."
Hugh laughed. "Hardly a perfect knight, my dear Sybelle."
"It matters not. You were to me." She placed a kiss upon his cheek. "You always will be."
"And you are still the child of my heart who so long ago gave me the hope of dreams."
"Really?"
He hugged her close. "You were a creation of love whose presence stood as brave testament to the follies and bitterness of war and politics. To my mind, a prince of the blood wasn't good enough for you."
"Will you give me your blessing?"
Hugh needn't have asked for what. He understood what his daughter was asking of him. "You have always had that, my love, and always will." He stopped and turned so that they were face to face. "Are you sure of this course?"
"Rolf O'Dalaigh is more than the father of my children; he is my heart, my life. I love him."
I love him. Sybelle said it with such simplicity, such tenderness, that he knew it to be the absolute truth. Somehow, someway, Killroone had tapped the reservoir deep within her soul. His daughter was no fool; there must be depths to this Irishman that she saw and understood.
"Will you relent in your hatred? This I ask of you for my sake and that of the children."
"I love the twins."
"I know you do. And I want them to grow up with your love."
"They shall always have that."
"I do not want it just from letters, Father. We must share time together. Declan and Deirdre must know that you care, must see it in your eyes. And I want to share the years with my new brother." Already Aidan had captured a warm spot in her heart and she would miss him terribly. "I am determined to be with Killroone all the days of my life. A compromise will have to be reached." She wanted them to meet, sure that with the cessation of hostilities, they would find much in common. She and Duvessa would work on their respective mates to assure that it came to fruition.
Hugh hook his head. "I cannot promise you that I shall ever feel comfortable with the man, nor like him, though for your sake and that of my beloved wife and my grandchildren, I will try. On that you have my word. Only do not expect it tomorrow, my love. Give it some time."
Time. There would be enough of that, she mused. It was in her favor.
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The approach to the keep lay ahead. Sybelle drew in a deep breath. She could feel the quivering of her nerves as she once again beheld the stone fortress that had once been her prison. When she left she had thought never to see this place again save in nightmares. Sybelle observed that Sir John was wary, as his hand reached automatically for his dagger.
"There is no need for that," she cautioned him. "We come in peace; they can see that."
Sybelle replied to the shouted question in Gaelic asking for identification. She responded with her name and demanded in the guard's native tongue to see the Earl of Killroone.Sir John was impressed by her handling of the situation and her mastering of the language.
At the wall one of the guards relayed to Auliffe the request that the gate be opened.
"Says she's the Lady Sybelle Fitzgerald, with the earl's children, and demands to see Killroone. What should I do?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face. It was common knowledge that the earl had held such a lady hostage the year before and that she had somehow bewitched the earl's younger brother into helping her escape. Some even saidthough not in the earl's hearingthat she had bewitched the earl himself, since he appeared never to be the same since the sasanach woman had left.
Auliffe joined the guard and climbed to the observation post. He saw Sybelle Fitzgerald, with several men in escort, baggage wagon, and another cart, waiting outside the walls.
"Open the gates!" Auliffe bellowed.
The huge gates swung open and the caravan came through.
Auliffe was there to greet her, as was his wife and several of the servants and people who worked in the castle. They remembered the English woman and were curious.
Auliffe helped Sybelle down from her mount and she addressed him in Gaelic, asking, "Where is Rolf?"
He responded in kind. "The Wolf has business that takes him from his castle. He is expected back on the morrow."
Siobhan, who was informed by a girl bringing fresh milk into the kitchen, rushed from the interior of the castle and sped to Sybelle, dropping a curtsey of respect. When she saw a woman emerge from the cart with the two infants, Siobhan broke into a deep grin. "He will be most pleased," she said to Sybelle. "'Tis where they belong."
"And what about me?" Sybelle asked, wanting the old woman's wise counsel. She took Siobhan's hands into hers and clasped them strongly.
"'Tis where you have belonged since that first night. Only now you have come to realize that, have you not?" the old woman chided.
Alyce came forth so that Sybelle could take one of the children, and Siobhan held out her arms for the other. The light in the old woman's face stripped years from her flesh. She looked at each child. "They are Killroone's get, of that there is no doubt."
Sybelle introduced Alyce to Slobhah, who took the babe back into her care as Slobban escorted them into the castle.
"A room must be prepared for my father's manat-arms, Siobhan. He will be remaining a few weeks before he returns to England. And my maid and her husband will need quarters, if possible. Is there somewhere on the grounds?"
"A cottage will be put at their use, ben charrthach," Auliffe answered. "I will see to it, personally."
The loved one. At that name she smiled and walked with Siobhan into the keep.
Tadgh was there to greet her, leaning on a thick stick of polished wood, his eyes still bright.
"So you have come home?"
Sybelle ran her gaze about the Great Hall and smiled. "So it would seem, my teacher," and she kissed his cheek.
She showed off her children with pride.
"The Wolf's cubs," he said, tears forming in his venerable eyes. "Does he know?"
"Aye," Sybelle said.
Siobhan has
tened to see that food was prepared and a meal served, as Sybelle wanted to retire early. She was tired from her travels and wished to be at her best when Rolf came back on the morrow.
She had thought that the children would be tired and inclined to cry. Instead, they too seemed invigorated by being there. Everyone wanted to hold them. They dutifully cooed and smiled as if they were granting favors to the lucky and the chosen. Deirdre made a slave of Auliffe, while Siobhan saw in Declan his father, save for the misty eyes of his mother. Finally, the twins demanded their evening repast. Sybelle decided that she would feed them, then take a bath and wash the smell of travel from her limbs.
She asked Siobhan which room she should use.
"I have instructed that your clothes are to be put into the room that you occupied before. 'Tis my lord's now, since you left. All things belonging to his parents have been moved and put away."
"Do you think I should?"
"Are you not mistress here now?" Siobhan asked. "Your place is in the WoWs bed."
Sybelle smiled at the simplicity of Siobhan's statement. That was where she wanted desperately to be. In RoWs bed, held securely in his arms, her love and honor entwined with his. There was no going back now, she thought as she climbed the wide stairs. Revenge had brought her here once before; now love beckoned her back.
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After a soothing hot tub and a glass of wine, Sybelle relaxed, crawling into the bed that once she had occupied, and which now bore the stamp and smell of Rolf O'Dalaigh. She snuggled into the sheets and closed her eyes, exalting in the feel of the smooth linen against her breasts, her thighs, her legs. What she yearned for was a rougher caress, the feel of hands used to activity sliding along her skinjust as she wanted to do to him. Tomorrow.
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He was tired and wanted to sleep in his own bed. He had turned down his friend's offer of lodging, which included a willing woman, for the night. The woman was his host's sister, a recent widow, and if he were any judge, eager to sample the delights of the marriage bed once again. He should have seen through the supposed business offer for what it was. At another time he might readily have indulged and enjoyed the charms she offered. Rolf believed now that he would be violating some holy bond if he slept with another woman.