Forbidden Night with the Prince

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘I want to believe you,’ his friend said slowly. ‘But know this—we will do nothing to endanger the children. He keeps them close, in your father’s house.’

  ‘I need to know everything about his defences and the mercenaries among you,’ Ronan insisted. ‘Most of all, I need to know what he has done with my father.’

  ‘The king is in chains,’ Darragh said. ‘No one can save him.’

  ‘Where is he being held?’

  ‘Underground, in the souterrain passage.’ His friend’s face turned grim. ‘He cannot survive for much longer. Not when the ground below is frozen.’

  Ronan didn’t know what to think of that, but time was running out. He needed to gather a larger army and impose a strategic attack. This had to be a swift, silent strike with no mistakes; else, the mercenaries would kill the children. It seemed wise to consult Rhys and Warrick, he decided. He could be back at Killalough by the following night.

  His emotions tightened within him as he envisioned seeing his wife again. Though it had only been a short time apart, he missed Joan. It took an effort to force his thoughts back to the present.

  ‘I need to bring back more men,’ he said. ‘Will you join us?’

  Darragh shook his head. ‘My place is here, for I cannot leave my wife unguarded. And I have to be there if there is any chance of freeing Ailan.’

  ‘I will return within two days,’ Ronan promised. ‘And when I do, I vow, we will free the children first.’ By breaking Odhran’s hold upon the people, it would enable them to join in the fight.

  ‘I hope to God we succeed,’ Darragh said. ‘We can’t go on like this.’

  ‘You won’t have to.’

  After the man had gone, Ronan picked up the wood carving tools to put them back in the trunk. To his surprise, he saw his father’s ring inside. He didn’t know how it had come to be there, but he slid it on to his finger.

  Darragh had warned that Brodur was dying, imprisoned within a freezing chamber. The battle ahead would be fierce, and Ronan knew that the people would die fighting for their children...just as Ardan had.

  A numbness settled within him, and there was no way to know if he could succeed in this. There was a very real possibility that he could die fighting for his people, just as Joan had feared.

  He wished he could return to her, to steal every last moment in her arms. But if the worst came to pass, at least he would know that he had done everything he could to redeem himself for the sins of the past.

  * * *

  Joan awakened at night, feeling a rush of terror. Though it had been only a few days since Ronan had left, she had barely slept during that time. Her body seemed to be raging as if with a fever, and then the next moment, she was cold.

  When she complained to Rosamund after breaking her fast, the woman only smiled softly. ‘That happened to me when I was with child,’ she said. ‘I found that I was hot and cold all the time during the first few weeks. Of course, it’s entirely too soon for that to be true for you.’ But though she spoke in teasing, Joan had to turn away to hide her blush. For she had lain with Ronan several weeks ago.

  Although he didn’t want a child, she couldn’t dispel the prayer that it could be true. Her courses still had not come, and it was possible that she had conceived on that first night she had offered herself to Ronan. He would be angry, but if it was true, she could only hope that one day he would forgive her and learn to love the baby.

  She turned back to Rosamund and ventured, ‘I had always heard that women felt sick during the early months.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ the woman agreed. ‘But for this child, I did not feel sick until later. Some lucky women are never sick. You might be one of them.’

  At this moment, Joan wouldn’t care if she were sick every day. She could only hold fast to the fervent hope.

  She followed Rosamund out of the Great Chamber, and up the spiral stairs to the solar. A fire was lit in the hearth, and Joan moved away from it, fanning herself with one hand. Though Rosamund sat and picked up her embroidery, Joan found herself feeling restless. ‘I wish I knew what was happening at Clonagh.’

  Rosamund drew her needle through a length of linen. ‘Your husband will return soon, Joan.’

  ‘And what if he doesn’t? What if they took him captive?’ Uncertainty wove threads of fear within her mind. She began to pace across the room, trying to calm her fears. Though Ronan had sworn he only meant to meet with his stepbrother and learn the fate of his father, she knew not if Odhran would uphold the peaceful negotiation.

  Joan walked towards the window to stare at the falling snow outside. It was nearly Yuletide, and some of the women were carrying branches of holly and fir to decorate the keep. She rested her hand against her flat stomach, wondering if next year she would be holding her own child. Please, let it be so. And let Ronan not be angry.

  She started to turn away from the window when she heard the familiar sound of approaching horses. Her heart gave a leap when she saw the men riding through the gates. She strained for a glimpse of Ronan, but it was too difficult to tell if he was there. Her brothers were already talking to some of the men, but she needed to know if her husband was all right.

  ‘I think the men have returned,’ Joan said, hurrying from the room. When she reached the spiral stairs, she slowed her pace only slightly. She crossed through the Great Chamber and pushed the doors open outside.

  Joan started to run down the stairs, but her footing slipped on the snow, and she lost her balance near the bottom. Strong arms caught her before she could hit the ground. When she steadied herself, she looked into the eyes of her husband and felt a surge of relief. Thank God.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Ronan asked.

  Joan threw herself into his arms, holding him close as she blinked back tears. ‘I am so glad you’re home.’

  ‘As am I.’ He took her arm in his and walked with her up the stairs. ‘I would be glad of a hot meal, and then I will tell you what we’ve learned.’

  ‘Were you successful in retaking Clonagh? And is your father alive?’

  A tension passed over him. ‘We are returning on the morrow, once I have spoken with your brothers about our strategy. My father is alive, but he cannot last much longer where he is imprisoned underground.’

  She tried to shield herself from the familiar fear, telling herself that Ronan would have all the soldiers he needed. But there was always danger within a battle. Every man risked his life, and her husband would be no different. Yet, once again, he had survived the danger, and she took comfort that he had returned to safety. The curse, if there had ever been one, must be over.

  ‘How many mercenaries are still there?’ she asked.

  ‘At least a dozen that I counted. Perhaps more. But they have another means of controlling our people—they have their children as captives.’ He told her of what he’d learned, and her heart sank. If Odhran had already killed one child, none of the parents would do anything to risk the life of their own son or daughter.

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘We’ll have to initiate a surprise attack. But Odhran will be expecting it, after our last meeting. The only way to save my father and the children is if we can slip in without anyone noticing.’

  Which was impossible with an army of men. Joan led him inside the keep towards the Great Chamber where her brothers were waiting. ‘You need the help of your people inside the ringfort, Ronan. They could keep Odhran’s men away while you rescue the children and your father.’

  He nodded. ‘And when they are safely out, we attack.’ She reached out to take his hand, caressing it with her thumb. He squeezed her palm. ‘It will be all right, Joan. I don’t intend to die.’

  ‘No one ever does,’ she whispered.

  * * *

  That night Ronan lay naked with Joan in his arms, but she seemed quieter than usual. When he asked her about i
t, she said, ‘I worry for your safety and that of your men when you return to Clonagh.’

  ‘It will be dangerous,’ he agreed, ‘but Darragh will help us. If it means helping his son escape, I have no doubt he will do everything in his power to ensure that we succeed.’

  ‘Odhran will be expecting you,’ she said. ‘And I know men might die during the attack. I just don’t want you to be one of them.’

  ‘I will be careful,’ he swore. He kissed her, and she clung to him with more fervour than usual. Even when she embraced him, he sensed that there was something more, something bothering her.

  ‘Good,’ she murmured, falling into silence once more.

  ‘What is it, Joan?’ he asked. He had no doubt that she was deeply troubled by something. Surely, she had set her fears of the curse aside by now.

  But Joan took his hand and brought it to her flat stomach. She held it there a moment, staring into his eyes. ‘It’s something else. Or perhaps, someone else.’

  His mind spun with the implications, and a coldness gripped him. Denial rose to his lips. ‘Joan, I don’t think—’

  But she rested her hand atop his. ‘In twelve years, my courses have always come when I expected them to. This was the first time they have not.’

  He couldn’t bring himself to speak. If it were true, it must have happened the first time they had lain together. He had been so caught up in her, seduced by that forbidden night, that he had shut out the consequences. Though he had known there was a risk of her becoming pregnant, he had wanted to believe that it hadn’t happened.

  ‘Ronan?’ she prompted gently.

  Panic boiled within him, and he hardly knew what to say except, ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Nervous. Overjoyed. Terrified.’ She smiled. ‘Everything.’ She drew her arms around his neck. ‘It will be months yet before we know for certain. But this is what I’ve wanted all my life. And to think that this precious gift may be growing inside me—’ Her voice broke off, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I know it’s not what you wanted. But if this has come to pass, I pray you can one day accept it and find joy in our child.’

  He held her, though his own response was a raw fear. No other emotions were possible right now.

  ‘Will you not say something?’ she whispered. He could hear the heartache in her voice, for she wanted him to share in her happiness. But all he could feel was a soul-wrenching sense that his worst fears had come to pass. He had already lost his nephew. Was he now meant to pay an even greater price?

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ The words came out bleaker than he’d intended.

  She pulled back her arms from his neck, retreating. He knew he had cut her down, but his throat had closed off from anything else. It was fear that suffocated him, fear that Fate would punish him even more.

  ‘You don’t want it to be true, do you?’ she whispered.

  I don’t deserve to be a father. But again, he could only remain silent. He could not lie to her and say that he was happy. When she continued to wait for an answer, at last he said, ‘There is no man less suited to being a father than I. But what I want doesn’t matter now, if you are with child.’

  He heard a shuddering sigh in the darkness, as if she were crying. The sound pierced through him, reminding him that he was behaving like a bastard. He wanted to apologise, not wanting to hurt her feelings. But the thought of being a father numbed him with the chilling fear that he would never be good enough for them. Though it might already be too late, he didn’t want to sire a child.

  ‘I thought...in time, you might change your mind.’ Her voice was broken, revealing the invisible wounds.

  He couldn’t. The death of Declan and his brother would haunt him until the day he died. He deserved no happiness of his own—not when he had destroyed the lives of the people he loved.

  For a time, Joan lay on her side with her back to him. He longed to comfort her, but there were no right words to say. At last, she murmured, ‘You must be careful when you fight at Clonagh. Come back to us.’

  The stone of doubt weighed heavily upon him. And this time, when he faced her, he admitted, ‘You will make a good mother, Joan. Even if I don’t return.’ He drew his hand over her face and kissed her lightly.

  He expected her to kiss him back and was fully unprepared for her anger. ‘Don’t even speak of it, Ronan. Don’t even think of giving up. You must return.’

  ‘I will try.’ He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling.

  Joan turned away from him, curling into a ball. He closed his eyes, knowing that he’d hurt her. He hated the thought of making Joan weep, but this wound was too deep and would never heal. If she was expecting a child, it was far better that she not rely on him. She didn’t understand the hole inside him or that he would shoulder the guilt for ever.

  She was waiting for him to speak, but he could only stare at the opposite wall. Better that she should hate him than to hold any feelings for him. He didn’t want her to love a man like him.

  He had failed so many people in the past year. And he knew not whether he could save Clonagh or be the right man for her. Failure lurked in the shadows, and he dared not reach for a happiness he didn’t deserve.

  Chapter Nine

  Ronan and her brothers left at dawn with more men, but Joan could not relinquish the premonition that her husband would not return. She was restless all day, trying to take her mind off the invasion. Worse, every time she thought of his reaction to the possible baby, her eyes teared up. He had grown so distant last night. She had hoped that Ronan could put aside his past and share in her hopes, but instead, he had closed off his emotions. It hurt more deeply than she could have imagined, for he had every right to blame her. She could only hope that she wouldn’t lose him.

  Did he truly believe he wasn’t coming back? Was he planning to sacrifice himself during this invasion, for the sake of his people? Horror filled her at the thought. But she knew how deeply the guilt ground against his conscience. He blamed himself for all of it. And the thought of waiting here for soldiers to bring back his broken body was too much to bear.

  She had married Ronan because he had become her friend and because she had wanted to protect him. But now, there was so much more at stake. She had fallen in love with this man. She wanted to awaken beside Ronan and see affection in his gaze. She wanted him to share a life with her and to love her in return.

  Joan refused to stand by and let him be martyred—not when she could gather forces from another tribe to help him. She caught sight of Rosamund’s maid and ordered the woman to pack her belongings. She had no intention of interfering with the men’s battle plans—she would stay far away from the fighting. But she intended to seek help from the MacEgans. They had sent men earlier, and now she would ask them for more forces. Yet, it would take time for a messenger to send word and for them to arrive at Clonagh.

  She found Rosamund inside the keep. The woman was consulting with their new chieftain, Bertach. ‘They should arrive by nightfall, but you will need to make room among your quarters.’

  Joan came closer and asked quietly, ‘Who will arrive by nightfall?’

  ‘The MacEgan soldiers.’

  At her surprised look, Rosamund added, ‘I sent for them a sennight ago. You are not the only one whose husband is in danger.’

  Joan was so relieved to hear that they had both come to the same conclusion about needing more soldiers. ‘Do our men know about this?’

  Rosamund shook her head. ‘They are too proud to admit they could use more help. Queen Isabel promised me that if we ever needed more men, she would send them.’ She studied the keep and added, ‘The MacEgans can provide a distraction that will keep our husbands alive.’

  The thought reassured her, but Joan still had no wish to remain behind. She needed to see Ronan with her own eyes when the battle was finished.

  And when he had suc
ceeded in saving his people, only then could she look towards building a life with him.

  * * *

  They approached Clonagh in the middle of the night. Ronan sent two men inside the fortress to unseal the underground souterrain passageway where his father was being held prisoner. Once the passageway was open, they could silently free the captives.

  Rhys and Warrick had joined him, and each man took command of twenty-five other soldiers. Torches flared against the night sky, set in even intervals around the fortress. Ronan steeled himself for the battle ahead, gripping his shield in one hand. Time seemed to slow, and they waited for long moments by the souterrain passage before there was any movement at all.

  Finally, Ronan pushed back the shrubbery, and he saw the stone moving away from the passage. It could only be unsealed from the inside, and he held his hand upon his sword until he recognised the faces of his men.

  But his father was not among them.

  ‘There was no one inside,’ a soldier said. ‘No sign of anyone at all.’

  They had moved the prisoners, then. Ronan stepped inside the souterrain passage and motioned for six other men to join him. In a low voice, he commanded, ‘The rest of you should encircle the fortress. I will give a signal and then you will attack.’

  Rhys hesitated. ‘If you only have six men inside, they could kill you before you can raise a signal.’

  He knew the risk, but more men would draw greater attention. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘We could cause a distraction with twenty men near the front gates. Then you would have time to contact Darragh and find out where the prisoners were moved.’

  It wasn’t a bad suggestion, except that it would draw the greatest retaliation to those men. ‘It’s a grave risk,’ he said. ‘All of Odhran’s forces would be directed there.’

  ‘For a short time,’ Rhys said. ‘When your men are in place, we can attack from both within and without. But you must make haste.’

  ‘Do not kill any of my kinsmen unless they directly attack,’ Ronan ordered. ‘I am trying to save them and their children.’