“Now, how did you come to be here?” he asked, gazing at her with the help of the glowing stone. She responded with a brightening of her glowing, golden eyes. “’Twas not wise, milady. If the guards discover either you or the stone, they’ll take you, and I’ve little way of keeping you safe. But we must pray that it is not so, for I admit that I am glad to see you.”
Her eyes glimmered from gold to blue, and he smiled.
“We must likewise pray that Daman will return to London ere long, so that I can return you to him and thence to Master Culain. You will be eager to be with him once more, will you not?”
More blue—he had realized long since that this indicated a particular happiness in her.
“Aye,” he said with a sigh, “I know full well how you feel. I miss Glenys just as greatly.” He ran a finger lightly over the top of the queen’s smooth wooden head. “Do you think she is well? And safe? ’Twas such foolishness for her to run off and try to save me. But that is how she is, very brave and very foolish.”
The blue eyes began to turn golden again.
“You think me harsh?” Kieran asked, stretching his legs out on the dirty straw that comprised his bed. “I did not mean to be, but—this you must admit—both Glenys and I were foolish to dream that we could ever come together in perfect union. ’Twas a most sweet dream, all the same, was it not? If’t is the last I have in this life, I’ll be glad of it.”
Weary, he leaned against the wall behind him and strove to make himself comfortable. He dared not lie down, else the multitude of rats and vermin in the prison would crawl over him during the night. Not that he would be able to gain much rest, even if he did manage to fall asleep. The prison was continually alive with noise, either from the prisoners—men, women and children packed together in various cells—or the guards, getting drunk, taking their turn at the watch, clattering up and down the stairwells. And then, too, there was ever in the back of his mind that he was going to be executed. There was little chance that Glenys could rescue him. Her family would be furious that she’d been taken; they’d press for his death on all sides. He deserved such a fitting punishment after the wastrel life he’d led, but he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t looking forward to either the hangman’s noose or the executioner’s ax. Kieran only hoped that he’d behave more properly in death than he had in life, so that his family—and Glenys—would have no cause to be ashamed.
“I must make certain that you are safely with your lord before that time,” he told the queen once more, who seemed to be watching him intently out of her glowing eyes. “He would be grieved to know that we had gotten you safe away from Caswallan, only to lose you in such a foul place as Newgate. But never fear, milady. I shall think of the way, if I’ve enough time for it. Pray God that I do.”
Her golden eyes shimmered with light. Kieran yawned and tucked her safely within his pocket. He took up the glowing stone and said, “I would have your company the night through, for both you and our lady queen give me great comfort, but I fear the guards will see your light and take you from me. Best to be as quiet as you can for now. And you need have no fear. When I find the way to get Her Majesty to safety, I’ll send you back to Metolius, as well.”
The little stone stopped glowing at once, and Kieran rubbed a gentle thumb over its cool surface for a few moments, sitting in the darkness, before pocketing it with the queen piece.
He yawned again and closed his eyes, thinking of Glenys to keep despair at bay. He’d never particularly enjoyed being held captive. This was the longest he’d ever endured it, and before, he’d always had Jean-Marc to bear him company. Thinking of Jean-Marc presented a whole new set of difficulties. Would he be all right on his own? They’d been together for so many years and had complemented each other so well, but there had been times, often, when Kieran’s education and upbringing had served to smooth over those areas in which Jean-Marc was somewhat lacking. In all of their business dealings, especially, Kieran had been the responsible one. He’d invested their funds and managed their wealth and—He opened his eyes and sat up. Jean-Marc didn’t even know how to go about gaining possession of his own money. He could neither read nor sign his name. God’s mercy, what would become of him?
Kieran stared into the darkness for a long time, possessed by the ungovernable fear that Jean-Marc would be utterly lost without him, until he at last began to think more clearly and remember just how capable a fellow Jean-Marc was. He was a far better thief than Kieran, a far better scoundrel in every way. I’faith, Kieran had it all turned around. He was the one who needed Jean-Marc, and not Jean-Marc who needed him. If Jean-Marc wished to get his hands on his own money, he’d simply break in and steal it. And then, Kieran thought, sitting back and closing his eyes again, he’d settle down with Dina in some distant part of England and build a fancy manor house—fancy, because Jean-Marc had a taste for fine things—and they’d live quietly there and raise many fine little thieves who would all look like Jean-Marc. Mayhap they’d name one after Kieran, a particularly roguish lad. The thought made Kieran smile. He turned his head against the wall to make himself more comfortable, and slid into sleep.
He was wrong to think that he would not slumber deeply, for he did, and dreamed deeply, as well. A most pleasant and striking dream.
He and Glenys were married, the lord and lady of a vast estate set on a cliff overlooking a wild, beautiful sea. They had children—boys and girls, equally wild and beautiful, some with hair like the sunset and some golden—laughing, charming, delightful creatures one and all. The queen piece came to life of a sudden, and all else faded away. She was beautiful and regal…and she bowed to him, calling him by the name that Glenys had said. Lord Eneinoig. She swept a hand toward the sea, but it was no longer simply water; it was people. His and Glenys’s children and their children and—he could scarce believe his eyes—a vast array of his descendants, all very fine and seemingly endless. The sight filled Kieran with inexpressible pride.
He came awake to the light of dawn creeping through the tiny window high in the wall, finding himself lying flat upon his back. He stared at the ceiling for a long, thoughtful moment before saying, “God help me. An Abraham dream. I must be losing my mind.”
“Eh?” another voice said. “What’s that? Abraham?”
A face came into Kieran’s view, someone standing over him, gazing down at him. The face possessed bright blue eyes, an elfin face and a long, white beard. It was smiling.
Kieran blinked and then scrambled upward to sit against the wall, his heart pounding as he strove to push away the sluggish remnants of slumber.
“Who a-God’s name are you?”
The fellow straightened to full height and gazed at Kieran with amusement. He was tall but slender, delicate in both form and face, and dressed in elegant purple robes.
“I’m Aonghus Seymour,” he said. “And you are Kieran FitzAllen. Not Abraham.” He chuckled.
“Aonghus Seymour,” Kieran repeated stupidly, wondering if something was wrong with his brain. Surely he’d not heard the man aright. The next words out of his mouth, however, were, “Is Glenys well? And safe? Is she in London?”
The elderly man smiled gently and said, “Not yet. But I’ve come to fetch you on her instructions. You’re to come home with me to Metolius.”
“Nay, I’m to be hanged,” Kieran told him. “Or otherwise executed. I kidnapped her. But I am glad you’ve come, for I’ve something that belongs to your brother, Glenys’s uncle.” He reached into his inner pocket and withdrew the queen piece, holding her out. “She’s in perfect health. We’ve taken the greatest care of her.”
“Oh, good,” Aonghus Seymour said with pleasure. “Culain will be so glad to have her returned to him. But you must give her to him yourself, so that he can render his thanks. Come now, Master FitzAllen, for I’ve left my niece, Mistress Helen, waiting in the guardroom, and God alone knows the trouble she might cause if left there too long.” He turned and walked out of the cell, nodding to the two scowling
guards who waited on the other side of the door.
Shaking his head to clear it, Kieran stared for a moment, then hastily rose to his feet and followed.
“My lord—Master Seymour—I fear you don’t understand aright.” He set a careful hand on the older man’s arm to make him stop and listen. “I kidnapped Glenys. Took her against her will and dragged her halfway across England. That’s a crime punishable by death.”
“Aye, and so it is,” Master Aonghus said agreeably, patting Kieran’s hand in a comforting manner, “but I fear Glenys will be most displeased with me should I allow such a fate to befall you. And you needn’t worry, for what happened between the two of you was just as it was meant to be. We knew it from the start. And now, here you are at last, come to be with us at Metolius. My dear sisters can scarce wait to meet you, I vow. They’re full overjoyed at the very thought. I’ve had such a time keeping them from coming to get you themselves. But we did have to wait for Glenys’s missive, of course,” he said more confidentially. Leaning forward, he whispered, “We must be careful to let her think ’twas her own idea, you see. She doesn’t like it when we know things before she does. But I’m sure you understand that full well, knowing her as you do.”
“Ah…yes,” Kieran agreed with confusion. “Of a certainty.”
“Good lad,” said Master Aonghus, patting Kieran’s hand once more. “Now come along and let us deal with this tiresome business of getting you free. Although I should not be surprised if Helen hasn’t already managed the entire matter.” He cast a glance back at Kieran as they began to climb the tower stairs. “She’s very much like Glenys. Good-hearted, but managing.”
Kieran laughed. “I am forewarned then, sir.”
They made their way to the main guardroom, where Kieran took one look at Mistress Helen and decided that if anyone could convince the Newgate warden to set a prisoner free, it was she.
Blond, vividly green-eyed and dressed all in black, she was the sort of woman whom a man had a hard time not staring at. The sort of woman who was stunningly beautiful—and knew it. The sort of woman who exuded an animal sensuality both openly and with great assurance. To look at her was to be riveted by the promise of pleasure that flashed in those green eyes, and, worse, to find oneself lured into their depths. Kieran, less susceptible to the powers of certain women than most men, was able to shake himself free of her hypnotic gaze. The other men in the chamber, apart from Master Aonghus, weren’t so fortunate. They surrounded Mistress Helen like a pack of frothing idiots, gaping openly and uttering complete nonsense.
Ignoring them, Mistress Helen pulled her elegant black cloak more tightly about herself and glided forward, moving as if she were floating, rather than walking.
“Here you are, Master FitzAllen. I began to think you’d not come at all. Sergeant,” she said, casting a glance at one of the men, who hopped forward at her bidding, “my uncle will sign the required document. Please hurry.”
It was all done so easily that even Kieran, who had experienced any number of near escapes in his life, could scarce believe it when, only minutes later, he was riding in the very coach that he’d taken Glenys in, driven by the same servants, John and Willem, that he and Jean-Marc had left tied in an alleyway.
His disbelief continued when they arrived at Metolius and he found himself standing in a grand entryway, surrounded by Glenys’s family, her two elderly aunts and other uncle, all of them hugging him by turns as if he were a long lost son at last come home to them. There wasn’t a word of reproach for what he’d done to their niece and her maid; there was only welcome and gladness.
Still in a daze, he was bundled up several flights of stairs to a chamber that had been made ready for him, where a tub filled with water sat by a blazing fire, and servants were waiting to tend him. He was bathed, thoroughly scrubbed, then rinsed and dried and wrapped in a fine silk robe. Food and drink had been set out for him, and once he’d sated his ravenous hunger he was led to a large, curtained feather bed, which he lay upon with gratitude, falling asleep at once.
It was dark when he woke again, feeling much the better for food and rest. His mind was clear and he knew where he was, at Metolius, with Glenys’s family. Why he was there was yet a mystery, but he’d learned long ago not to question fortune when it smiled upon him.
His clothes had been laid out for him, but the manservant who’d been waiting for Kieran to rise pleaded with him to accept the new garments that Master Aonghus had supplied. Kieran readily acquiesced, expecting that the fit would be imperfect. But much to his surprise, the finely crafted leggings and velvet tunic fit him perfectly, almost as if they’d been tailored just for him. The servant confided that they had been. Master Aonghus had ordered an entire wardrobe to be made only a week after Mistress Glenys had left. The garments had been waiting in this chamber for many days now. Kieran had looked at the young man with disbelief, but he had assured him that was the truth.
“Master Aonghus wishes to speak with you, Master FitzAllen,” he added once Kieran had finished pulling on new soft half boots that were as comfortable as his old, battered pair. “If you consent.”
“Give me but a moment,” Kieran replied, running his fingers through his overlong hair and then rifling through the pockets of his old tunic before following the man out the door. “Will you take me to Master Culain first, please?” he asked. “There is something that I must return to him without further delay.”
Master Culain, as well as Glenys’s two aunts, was sitting in the richly furnished great chamber that Kieran had passed earlier on his way into Metolius. They all rose at once to greet him, the uncle having been sitting alone at a chess table, and the aunts from where they’d been by the fire, gazing into a wooden box.
“Oh, you’ve come down at last!” one of the aunts declared happily. “We hoped you’d awake in time for the evening meal.”
“Won’t it be agreeable to sit together at last?” the other, her exact twin, said, smiling up at Kieran. “Oh, isn’t he handsome, Mim? Hasn’t our Glenys done well for herself?”
“Quite, quite handsome,” Mim said. “Won’t it be nice to have such a lovely man to escort us when we go out, Wynne? We’ll be the envy of every woman who sees us!”
They both giggled and attached themselves to Kieran on either side. He found himself thoroughly charmed.
“Leave him be, now, girls,” said Uncle Culain, his blue eyes stern as he moved to take Kieran’s hand in greeting. “He’s only just arrived. Give him time to rest and gain his strength before Glenys returns. Now, lad.” He looked at Kieran hopefully. “Do you, perchance, have a liking for chess?”
“Indeed, I do, sir,” Kieran replied honestly, “and I should be glad to match you sometime very soon. For now, I am required to speak with Master Aonghus, but I wished to return this to you first.” He pulled the queen piece out into the open, holding her on the flat of his palm. Her amber eyes twinkled up at him. “I cannot deny that I shall miss you, Boadicea. I’m glad that I was able to do this one thing for you—to return you safely home.”
He gave the piece to the other man, who took her up with shaking hands.
“Oh,” he murmured, his blue eyes shining with sudden tears. “I never thought to see her again. How good of you to bring her back to me. Thank you.” He reached out to touch Kieran’s arm, his gaze fixed upon the queen piece, whose eyes had gone brilliantly blue. “Thank you.” He turned away and wandered out of the great chamber, murmuring indistinctly to the chess piece, not stopping to bid his sisters or Kieran farewell.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Aunt Mim said happily, wiping her own eyes. “Isn’t it, Wynne?”
“’Tis very good to see Culain with his favorite again,” Aunt Wynne agreed. “He’s missed her so very much.”
“I fear I have something that belongs to you ladies, as well,” Kieran told them, and produced the glowing stone. “I am equally loath to part with it, for this sweet creature gave me much pleasure during my journeys with Glenys. It faithfully
gave us light on many a dark night, and I was grateful to have the care of it.”
“Oh, Mim,” said Aunt Wynne, “aren’t we fortunate to have Kieran with us? Such a good, kind heart he has. No, Kieran, dear, you must keep the stone.” She folded his fingers back over the smooth white rock. “It has become your own, and will give light to no one else now.”
“Yes, dear,” Aunt Mim agreed, nodding. “You must certainly keep it, else it will pine for you, and that would be terribly sad. You do wish to keep it, do you not?” she added with a note of anxiety.
“Very much,” Kieran said at once. “I thank you with all my heart.”
“Such a wonderful man,” Aunt Mim sighed. “He’ll be so good for Glenys. Just what she needs.”
“Oh, yes,” said Aunt Wynne. “Exactly what she needs. We never could have chosen a better. And so handsome!”
They beamed at Kieran, who pocketed the stone and thought that he could easily get used to this kind of adulation.
“But Aonghus will be waiting for him,” Aunt Mim said suddenly. “We’d best let him go.” She reached up to kiss Kieran on the cheek. “Hurry now, dear,” she said, just as if he were a favorite nephew. “We’ll see you at the evening meal.”
“Yes,” Aunt Wynne said, reaching up to kiss his other cheek. “We’ll see you then, and we’ll have so much to talk about! Hurry on to Aonghus. I’m sure he must be anxious to speak with you.”
Kieran thought them two of the sweetest ladies he’d ever met, and was perfectly happy to let them dote upon him. He kissed each of their hands and bowed regally before heading for the door and the waiting manservant, leaving the two sisters giggling with pleasure.
The manservant led Kieran down a long hallway, then another, and finally down a flight of stairs until they reached what looked very much like a cellar door. The manservant bent, took hold of an iron ring set in the door, and pulled it open. A cloud of reddish smoke, smelling faintly of gunpowder, rose into the air.
The Prisoner Bride Page 23