Connor remained at his ease, merely glancing over his shoulder at his force—more numerous and far better armed than MacCarthy’s. “She will not. I intend to be a good and faithful husband to Moira for many years to come. I’ll see to it,” he vowed.
MacCarthy sank back into his saddle, his face still contorted with rage. “Then show the child to me, that I may judge for myself whether ′tis my brother’s daughter,” he demanded.
“She is my daughter, MacCarthy. And Moira is my wife. My family remains with me.” Connor didn’t bother to hide his disdain. “Admit it—you’ve lost it all, not that you ever had it. Gerald’s Keep is not Moira’s to give to you, nor would she do so in any case. Did you truly believe you could abuse her and her people, cause them to live in a state of siege for months, then expect her, without hesitation, to give her entire world into your hands at your bidding?”
“Not likely, Hugh,” Moira called. “′Tis nigh impossible, in fact. I suggest you give up now, for my daughter shall never be yours, no matter who fathered her.”
MacCarthy growled. “I simply want to see Gerald’s Keep returned to my family, my blood.”
Connor shook his head. “I’ve heard many things about you, Hugh MacCarthy, but I’d not heard you were a stupid man.” He leaned forward, investing his expression, his voice, with the steely determination that had brought him from weakling to warrior in a few short years. “I know your plans, MacCarthy—all of them. I also know you haven’t the men to carry them out, now that you’ve lost the element of surprise. And lest it escape your notice, I have the support of the FitzCliffords and of the earl of Pembroke behind me. If you take Gerald’s Keep, they’ll harry you until you’ll be glad to hand it back to them. You cannot win,” he stated. “′Tis up to you to decide what you want to lose.”
“Gerald’s Keep was ours once,” MacCarthy blustered.
“If Brenna is indeed of your blood, you’ll be glad to know that one day Gerald’s Keep will be hers. ′Tis the only way anyone with a drop of MacCarthy blood will ever rule there again.” Connor settled back in the saddle and rammed his dagger into its sheath. “One other thing—what I have, I keep. Remember that fact. This topic is no longer open for discussion.”
Pinning MacCarthy with his gaze, Connor sat and waited. ′Twas clear that Hugh’s force hadn’t the power to overcome his own—else they’d already have tried, he had no doubt. Would MacCarthy even recall the other reason for this meeting? he wondered. Or had his “concern” for Kieran and Domnal merely been an excuse for him to agree to this encounter?
MacCarthy edged his horse closer to Aidan’s and bent to confer with him. Their discussion, while too quiet to hear, was obviously heated, for both men gestured wildly, their expressions fierce.
Finally Aidan moved away from MacCarthy and prodded his mount forward. “The O’Neills accept you into the family, milord,” he said, his voice tinged with a mocking tone.
Connor stifled a wry laugh. Moira had told him that her brothers always chose the side that would benefit them most, he recalled. It appeared that hadn’t changed. “I’m sure my wife will be pleased that her brothers no longer want me dead.”
Scowling, Aidan shifted in the saddle. “Indeed. That being so, we’d be grateful if you would return Domnal to us.”
“Domnal?” Connor called. The jingle of harness heralded Domnal riding forward to join him. Connor glanced over at his young brother by marriage, noting that he appeared completely at his ease.
“Aye, milord?” he asked, smiling.
“Do you wish to return to your brothers?”
“Nay, milord. If I’d wanted to stay with them, I never would have run away in the first place.”
Hard-pressed not to grin himself, Connor nodded. “It looks to me as though Domnal doesn’t wish to go with you, Aidan. He’s welcome to stay with us, of course.”
“Thank you, milord.” Domnal nodded, turned his mount and joined the others behind Connor’s wall of soldiers.
MacCarthy looked fit to burst, he noted with amusement. Before he could say anything else—before he knew what to say next—Hugh grunted. “I suppose you want to stay with the Normans as well, Kieran?” He sneered. “At least I know you didn’t go running off to join them when things didn’t go your way,” he added, casting a scorn-filled glare at Aidan and Finan.
Kieran rode up to the wall of men, but no closer. “Nay, Cousin, I don’t wish to stay with them. But I don’t know that I care to return to serve with you, either, not if you continue this foolishness that Dermot started. It’s done with, Hugh. You didn’t win everything you wanted, but you haven’t lost, either.” He straightened and stared across the expanse at his kinsmen. “Did you honestly want to marry Moira? No offense meant, milady,” he said to Moira. “She’s far too strong-willed for you, Hugh. By the saints, you’d kill each other in a month! And a child as well? Tis not your way, Hugh, not now. ′Twas Dermot’s dream, not yours. Accept what Lord Connor has offered so we can go home.”
Connor watched in silence as Hugh MacCarthy pondered his cousin’s words. Perhaps Kieran’s plea made more of an impression than his own—or added weight to his own words, more like.
Whatever the reason, he knew the instant MacCarthy decided. “I’ll leave you be, Norman. And perhaps some day—once she’s a bit older—you might see fit to let me meet my niece. I’ll never do the lass any harm, my word on it.” He stared hard past Connor; looking back, Connor saw that Will had brought Moira up to the line of men.
MacCarthy bowed to her, surprising Connor—and Moira, to judge by her expression. Then, giving a wild cry, the Irishman wheeled his mount and led his men away over the hillside.
Kieran spurred his horse and rode after them, leaving Connor’s forces on the plain.
Will rode up beside Connor’s mount. “Here, milord—take your wife before she drives me mad,” he said, grinning all the while. “I vow, you’ve wed a fighter, milord. I’d never have guessed she just gave birth, the way she kept trying to wrest the reins out of my hands and take control!”
Moira poked him in the ribs, then soothed the sting by giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek. Will’s face grew red, and though his mouth moved, no words escaped. “I thought that might silence you,” she said. Laughing gaily, she held out her arms for Connor to take her.
He did, gladly. “We won, Husband,” she murmured, nestling into his lap.
He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply. “Aye, Wife, we did.” He caught her veil as it slid off her hair, the wind sending the fragrant mass streaming about them. Her cheeks alive with color, her eyes bright, Moira smiled at him and sent his heart soaring. “I’ve won it all.”
Epilogue
“Come here, Brenna.” Hands outstretched, Connor coaxed his daughter to her feet. Moira, seated nearby on a blanket, held her breath as the child wavered, gifting him with a grin Moira knew would melt her father’s heart, as it always did her own.
“Papa!” Hands waving wildly, she set out toward him over the smooth grass, managing three steps before her legs gave out and she landed on her backside.
Her lips quivering, she glanced from her father to her mother. Evidently she decided ′twasn’t worth the bother to cry, for she gave a trill of laughter and set off on hands and knees toward her mother.
Connor rose up on his knees and scooped Brenna into his arms, then dropped down beside Moira and settled their child upon his chest.
The child she carried beneath her heart chose that moment to kick her hard, bringing a smile to her lips and her hands to her rounded belly.
Connor shifted and sat up, cradling Brenna upon his shoulder. “Do you need help with this one, too?” he asked, his hand already settling over the babe.
The soothing motion of his palm worked its magic for this child, as it had done for Brenna. “Aye, I need you, Husband—always,” Moira murmured, reaching to draw him close. “I love you.”
His gentle smile wrapped itself about her heart. “And I love you, dea
rling.” He brushed his lips over hers, then gathered her to his side. “All of you.”
Moira glanced out over the sun-swept headland and the sea. After years of darkness, how had she found this light, this joy? Her present—her future—were right beside her, within her. She shifted her gaze to Connor, the man who had given her love and contentment, passion and pleasure. Smiling, she held her joy close and savored the life they’d made together.
Copyright
ISBN 0-373-29110-8
LADY OF THE KEEP
Copyright © 2000 by Sharon M. Schulze
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