‘I don’t suppose I’m very good at this.’
‘Try again,’ he urged, and within a few moments, they found a rhythm together. She used both arms to pull back the single oar, and they moved swiftly through the water. When her arms grew weary, he let them drift for a time. It was peaceful on the water, and she enjoyed the moment of freedom.
‘It sounds as if you were friends with your brothers,’ he remarked.
‘When they weren’t trying to torment me, yes,’ she said. ‘Rhys cut my hair once, and I put toads in his bed.’ She sent him a sidelong glance. ‘He deserved it.’
‘Remind me not to cut your hair,’ he said drily.
‘You would come to regret it.’ For a time, they rowed in silence, and she felt at ease in his presence. Though she didn’t know why she was confiding in him, she continued. ‘My brothers and I grew closer after our father remarried. His new wife, Analise, was terrible.’ The memory of the woman haunted her still. Though Joan had been sent away at the age of eight, she had heard about the infant daughter born to Analise within the year...and the horror that had followed.
‘Why was she so terrible?’ Ronan asked.
Joan paused a moment, pushing back the aching sadness. ‘Analise murdered her infant daughter and blamed Warrick for it. I never saw my sister alive...only her grave, after she was buried.’
Ronan stiffened, and his jaw tightened. For a moment, there was a flash of pain in his eyes that she couldn’t read. He gripped his oar, his knuckles white upon the wood. Then he murmured, ‘I am sorry.’
Joan let out a sigh. ‘For many years, my father despised Warrick. I tried to help my brother as best I could, but it was difficult. It took many years before our father could admit that he was wrong.’ Her voice grew softer, remembering Edward’s illness. There was a chance he might not recover, but she had made her peace with him. As had Warrick.
‘It’s better now between them,’ she admitted. ‘My father finds comfort in his grandchildren, and Warrick has Rosamund, whom he adores. They are happy together.’
She didn’t bother to hide the wistfulness in her voice, for she envied her brother’s joy. With a rueful smile, she added, ‘You see? Sometimes there can be a good ending to a story.’
But Ronan’s tension had not dissipated. She sensed that there was a nerve she’d touched, though he answered, ‘Sometimes.’
Though she wanted to ask him about his brother, she decided that it would only bring up bad memories. Instead, she changed the subject. ‘Have you been to Ennisleigh before?’
‘No. The king does not allow many visitors there. It appears to be a ruined fortress, but he has many soldiers hidden there who can attack invaders before they even reach the coast.’
‘Then why did he allow us to come?’ She held on to the edges of the boat, enjoying the morning sunlight.
‘I told him it was your wish to see it. The king granted your request.’
She eyed him with a rueful smile. ‘Why would King Patrick believe I would have any interest in seeing the ruins?’
‘Because the queen convinced him that you might reconsider a betrothal if we spent the afternoon together.’
She narrowed her gaze in a teasing look. ‘Well, that’s not going to happen, is it? You would rather be alive than dead.’
‘Indeed. But I saw a chance to see the island, and I took it.’
She was somewhat distracted by his firm muscles as he rowed. ‘Why would the queen believe that I would change my mind about marrying you?’
He shrugged. ‘A few MacEgans saw me kiss you last night.’
Her cheeks warmed at the memory of it, and she looked out at the water. ‘I had too much wine. And it was just a kiss, nothing more.’ If she kept telling herself that, it might eventually be true.
‘You never would have kissed me without the wine,’ he said drily.
‘Of course not.’ Liar, her conscience chided. What woman wouldn’t want to kiss a man who looked like Ronan? She stole a glance at his sensual mouth and decided that the man had talent when it came to kissing.
But it was best to change the subject. ‘So you mean to see the ruins and then return to Laochre?’
‘Yes. If you’ve no interest, you can stay in the boat.’ They were nearing the opposite side of the inlet, and he slowed the pace.
‘It sounds as if you used me for your own gains,’ she accused with a smile. ‘I won’t be staying behind in the boat while you go off inspecting the ruins.’ Now that they were here, she was interested in seeing the island. She was enjoying every moment of freedom from her overprotective brothers and father. There was a sense of adventure here that she had never known before.
‘As you will.’ Ronan slowed the pace of the oars and then stepped into the cold water, dragging the boat on to the sand. He helped her out, carrying her to dry land as if she weighed nothing at all.
‘I will pretend to show interest,’ she said, not bothering to hide her teasing. ‘And I won’t tell the king if I am bored.’
His mouth curved in a smile. ‘I will try to keep you entertained.’
* * *
The afternoon was one of the most surprising he’d ever experienced. Ronan led Joan through the ruins, and she jested with him at every opportunity.
‘Oh, my heavens, look at that,’ she breathed, pointing to a pile of stones. ‘It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before!’ With a brilliant smile, she turned back to him. ‘Thank you so much for bringing me here. These rocks...they are simply breathtaking.’
Ronan fought back his own amusement. ‘You are most welcome. And there is something else you might wish to see.’
He guided her towards one of the walls overgrown with vines. ‘What do you think of that?’
She exclaimed a cry of exultation at the sight of the crumbling wall. ‘It’s simply perfect. Those vines are stunning. How can I thank you for bringing me here, Ronan?’
One of the Ennisleigh soldiers eyed them with confusion, as if he were uncertain whether she was serious. Ronan shook his head and waved the man on.
Then he rested his palm against her spine. ‘It’s everything you ever wanted, wasn’t it?’
‘It was,’ she breathed. Her sides were shaking with laughter, and she broke away from him, hurrying up the winding stairs.
‘Those stairs don’t lead anywhere, Joan,’ he warned. The second floor of the fortress was missing, and there was no roof at all. But when he reached the top of the steps, he found her doubled over with mirth.
‘Did you see the soldier’s face?’ she chuckled. ‘He must have thought I was mad, admiring the ruins.’
‘Well, it was an attractive pile of stones. And the wall was quite majestic.’
She laughed again, and he couldn’t help but join her. Gods, but it had been so long since he’d laughed. He couldn’t even remember the last time.
‘I must admit, this day was nothing like I imagined it would be,’ she said, wiping away a tear while she struggled to regain her composure. ‘I did enjoy myself, Ronan.’
He rested both hands on opposite sides of the staircase, watching her. She was so different from the other women he’d known before. So many had flirted with him, offering themselves in return for his favour—whereas Joan was adamant in avoiding marriage.
His gaze fixed upon the curve of her mouth. He had tasted those lips last night, and right now, he imagined claiming them again, pressing her back against the stairs.
‘Why do you always wear white, Joan?’
Her smile faded. ‘You know the answer to that. It’s my way of avoiding the evil spirits.’ She paused a moment, her mood turning pensive. ‘When I wore the colours of purity, it seemed to appease the people of Montbrooke. I think some of them believed I might be a witch after what happened to my bridegrooms.’
He unfastened her veil, wanting to see her dark hair. ‘Wh
at happened with those betrothals wasn’t your fault.’
‘But the men are all dead. What else can I believe?’
He had no answer for her. Yet in this moment, he found himself wanting to push back her fears. He liked this woman far more than he should. ‘You should believe that you will find the right husband one day.’
For a moment, her blue eyes centred upon him, and he felt an unexpected tightness in his chest. He didn’t understand it, nor did he want Joan to believe that there was any hope of him becoming that husband. When she understood his silent answer, her smile faded and she averted her gaze.
At last, he pulled away, helping her up. ‘Are you hungry?’
She nodded. ‘I am. Let us eat outside where we can look at the sea.’
Ronan guided her back down the stairs and retrieved the bag of food from where he’d left it earlier. They departed the fortress and walked along the outside of the ruins where grass had grown over the crumbling walls. To an outsider, Ennisleigh was nothing of value, a ruined pile of stones upon a tiny island.
But inside the fortress, there was a treasure of weapons, arrows, and supplies for war. Ronan was fascinated by all of it, for it gave the MacEgans a distinct advantage over their enemies. There were twenty soldiers here, stationed at every angle surrounding the island. They could see any enemy approaching by sea, and from the top of the ruins, there was a small platform where they could see enemies on land. Several piles of brush and wood were at the top of the tower, and signal fires could be lit quickly to alert the men at Laochre of danger.
‘You look intrigued by their defences,’ Joan said, spreading out a cloth with the food. ‘Do you approve?’
He nodded. ‘I may use some of their ideas with my own people. There is a roundtower not far away that we could use as a place to keep watch.’
She offered him a cup of ale and some cheese. He took it and ate, though he was still distracted with ideas about his own defences.
‘Are you thinking about your invasion?’ she asked.
He forced his attention back to her and nodded. ‘We will choose the MacEgan soldiers this day. But we are not going to invade until I know which of my men betrayed us. I will not risk the lives of innocent people.’
The mood had grown sombre between them, and he almost regretted it. For an hour, he’d forgotten his troubles and had enjoyed spending time with Joan.
‘I will talk with my brothers on your behalf,’ she said. ‘I believe I can convince them to help you.’
‘And if they refuse?’
She eyed him for a long moment. ‘Then you will have to marry the King of Tornall’s daughter.’
* * *
Ronan left the donjon with Connor MacEgan after they had both finished their evening meal. Connor had selected a group of fighting men, and he wanted Ronan’s approval. As they walked towards the training grounds, Connor said, ‘I noticed that you spent the day at Ennisleigh with Lady Joan.’
‘I was interested in the fortress,’ he answered. ‘Your defences are impressive.’
Connor’s gaze turned knowing. ‘I have been talking with my wife Aileen about Lady Joan. If it is your wish to wed her, we may be able to help you.’
Ronan had no intention of it, but he decided there was no harm in hearing what Connor had to say. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘You should take time to court her,’ he said. ‘Aileen noticed that she wears no jewels—only that iron cross. Or perhaps she might want a new gown.’
Ronan knew the cross was from Joan’s attempts to keep away fairies and evil spirits. And she didn’t seem interested in adorning herself. Jewels and gowns were not the way to win her agreement to this betrothal. ‘She wears the gown and cross by choice.’
And yet, she had been fascinated by the carving he’d done upon the turnip. If he wanted to gain her interest, he suspected that was the way.
When they drew closer to the training ground, Connor’s daughter Rhiannon approached shyly. He offered his hand, and she held it. ‘Good eventide, a iníon.’
She murmured a reply, and Connor leaned down, whispering another question in her ear. Then he smiled and turned back to Ronan. ‘I asked my daughter what she thought you should give to Lady Joan to win her heart. She suggested a kitten or a young pup.’
Ronan smiled at the young girl and nodded his approval. ‘It’s not a bad idea.’ A warm, living creature to love might suit Joan very well indeed. From the bright-eyed excitement of the girl, Ronan decided to enlist Rhiannon’s help.
‘Will you help me choose?’ he asked the girl.
Rhiannon nodded and put her hand in his. Her utter trust caught him like a fist to the heart, and the pang of guilt squeezed tightly around him. He pushed back the emotions, for this was not the time to let the past interfere. Instead, he squeezed the young girl’s palm and asked her to select an animal that she thought would suit. In the meantime, he and Connor would choose the men who would accompany him to Clonagh.
The young girl raced away, and Connor remarked, ‘Rhiannon is a sweet girl. You can trust that she will choose the right gift for Lady Joan.’
He acknowledged the remark with a nod and told Connor that he would compensate them for the animal. He hardly knew why he was giving Joan a gift, when there would never be a marriage or betrothal between them. But then again, a genuine friendship had begun between them. He wanted to offer her something—even if it could never be the baby she wanted.
A hardness tightened in his gut at the thought of a child, along with the memory of Declan’s death.
It was your fault, his conscience reminded him. If he had watched over the boy more closely, Declan never would have wandered off.
God help him, he couldn’t forget Ardan’s anguish or the raw cry of pain at seeing his son’s limp body. It was the worst moment of his life, and Ronan would have given up his own life if it could have brought his nephew back. He didn’t deserve a wife or a child of his own...not after his own sins of neglect. He despised himself for what he’d done. And now, it seemed wrong to find happiness of his own. Not after what Ardan had suffered.
But he could not deny that he’d enjoyed the time he’d spent with Joan. Her humour and warmth had brightened the darkness inside him. If circumstances were different, he might have considered her for a wife. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, and for one moment, he had set aside the grief.
Rhys and Warrick de Laurent had given him three days to win Joan’s agreement. But Ronan had pushed aside the idea of marriage, without any desire to pursue it.
Now, he was starting to wonder. He had to do whatever was necessary to restore Brodur to power and free his people from Odhran’s reign. And if that meant a new alliance formed to save their lives, he might not have a choice.
It was startling to realise that he was not so opposed to the idea of marriage any more. There might be a way to set boundaries, to make Joan understand why he could not sire a child. He had offered her a false betrothal earlier, one to benefit both of them. Was it still possible?
He dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Breaking a betrothal was nigh impossible, even under these circumstances. Then, too, he doubted if he could end the betrothal and give Joan into the hands of someone else. He didn’t want to imagine her yielding to another man. The thought of another suitor touching her made him clench his fists. Whether he’d intended it or not, he wanted Joan for his own.
But if it were a real union, he knew he would never be able to maintain a celibate marriage. Not after the way she’d kissed him. The very thought of the way she’d responded to his touch was deeply arousing. He wanted this woman badly...and the answer to his problems lay before him—all he had to do was wed her. He was beginning to reconsider it.
Ronan joined Connor, and they both inspected the men, looking for the strongest fighters. One adolescent caught his attention, a young man who
was shorter than the others but had begun to develop more powerful muscles. His dark hair was cut short, and he fought with a ruthless air.
‘What about him?’ he asked Connor, pointing towards the lad. ‘He’s young but seems hungry to prove himself.’
Connor’s expression hardened. ‘He is our brother, Ewan. And you’ll have to ask Patrick if he is ready.’ The man’s tone suggested that he did not think so.
But the young man defeated three others before a more experienced soldier brought him to the ground. Even then, Ewan stood and brushed himself off, showing no sign of fatigue. If anything, he appeared eager to continue.
‘If Patrick gives his consent, I want him to join us,’ Ronan said. ‘Along with the four men over there.’ He remembered what it was like to be fighting for respect, wanting to gain the approval of his peers. And Ewan MacEgan did have the strength and skills.
Connor kept his expression neutral. ‘We will see.’
A few moments later, Rhiannon came hurrying forward. Her hair was in disarray, the unbraided strands hanging across her shoulders. ‘I found him for you. I tied my ribbon around its front leg so you would know which one I chose.’
‘And what did you choose?’ Ronan asked.
The young girl smiled shyly. ‘It’s a surprise. Something very special.’
He didn’t press her for the answer, but asked, ‘Do you think Lady Joan will be pleased?’
Rhiannon nodded. Connor rested his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and smiled. ‘I’ll bid you luck. But I do trust that Rhiannon chose a good gift.’
At that moment, Ronan saw Lady Joan descending the stairs. The gift would give him the means to broach the subject of an alliance between them. ‘Thank you for your help.’
He took his leave from the pair of them and walked towards Joan. She approached him and ventured a smile. ‘Did you pick the soldiers you wanted?’
‘Most of them,’ he agreed. ‘Will you be ready to travel to Killalough at dawn?’
Forbidden Night with the Prince Page 7
