"I'll teach you to fight me," he growled with relish. Then he slapped her as hard as he could across the face. Caitlyn reeled back, feeling her lip split. Catching both her arms, he dragged her into his embrace and ground his mouth against hers with no regard for the lip he had injured.
A pistol went off near at hand. Sir Edward jerked upright at the sudden explosion of sound. Caitlyn, no longer subject to his assaultive kiss, looked frantically around. Tb her immense relief, she saw Connor sitting astride Fharannain not ten feet away. The look on his face was menacing as he lowered a smoking pistol. Drawing its mate from his belt, he leaned over the horn of Fharannain's saddle and pointed it squarely at Sir Edward.
"Let her go or die," he said, and Caitlyn at least had no doubt that he meant it.
Sir Edward let go. Caitlyn stumbled away from him toward Connor.
"I was merely offering to take her off your hands, d'Arcy. You must have tired of her by now, and I'm prepared to make a generous settlement on you as well as on her if she comes to me." Sir Edward's voice was nervously placating. Connor ignored him, dismounting and putting a hand beneath Caitlyn's chin as she came up to him. Even as he lifted her face for his inspection he kept the gun trained on Sir Edward.
"He hit you." It wasn't a question. Caitlyn was frightened by the ominous sound of those three words. Connor was so angry he was icy with it. Knowing the white heat of his usual explosions, she realized that this was different, and far more dangerous.
"It doesn't hurt. Not really." She might as well have been speaking to Fharannain for all the notice he took. Those devil's eyes fixed on Sir Edward.
"You've made a serious miscalculation," he said, and smiled. That smile was enough to chill Caitlyn's blood, and it must have had a similar effect on Sir Edward.
"If you kill me you'll hang for it, d'Arcy."
Connor looked down at Caitlyn fleetingly. "Get back on Finnbarr and go home."
"You'd better stop him, Miss O'Malley. Unless you want to see him hang!" Sir Edward sounded close to hysteria, and looking at Connor, Caitlyn didn't blame him. Connor looked ripe for murder.
"Please don't kill him, Connor," she pleaded in an undertone, her hand resting against his upper arm. The brown riding coat he wore was smartly cut but dusty, its texture rough beneath her hand. " 'Twas a kiss, nothing more. A kiss isn't a killing matter."
Connor's eyes slanted down to meet hers briefly before returning to Sir Edward.
"You see, d'Arcy? Just a kiss. If I-I got a litde rough, I apologize to the young lady. See? That's all there is to it!"
"Get on Finnbarr and go home," Connor repeated. The deadly gleam in his eyes had not lessened.
"Connor!"
"I won't kill him," he promised. Then he gave her a little shove. "Now go!"
Despite Sir Edward's frantic protests, Caitlyn obediently walked back to Finnbarr and mounted. At a gesture from Connor, she turned the horse and rode away. But only as far as a copse of pines halfway up the hill, where she turned Finnbarr and sat watching, hidden by the screen of fragrant branches.
Connor kept his pistol trained on Sir Edward as he approached him. Caitlyn was too far away to hear what he said, but whatever it was made Sir Edward go white to the lips. Then Connor was within arm's length of him. Thrusting the pistol into his belt, he reached out and grabbed the Englishman by the coat. The bloody pommeling that followed could not really be termed a fight. Sir Edward got off a few feeble punches, but Connor beat him to his knees with a series of savage blows that made Caitlyn, watching, feel queasy. Sir Edward swayed as he knelt, saying something to Connor which Caitlyn guessed was a plea to stop. Connor responded by twisting his hand in the man's coat front and lifting him halfway to his feet. Then he punched Sir Edward viciously in the head, letting go of his coat at the same time. Sir Edward fell sideways as if he had been poleaxed and lay unmoving in the grass. Connor stood over him for a minute, breathing heavily. Then he drew back his booted foot and kicked Sir Edward brutally in the ribs. Watching, Caitlyn winced. As Sir Edward still lay unmoving, Connor spat on him, then walked back to remount Fharannain. And he rode away, leaving Sir Edward lying bloody and unmoving in the field.
Caitlyn was so unnerved by what she had witnessed that she forgot that Connor had told her to go home. When he rode into the copse and saw her, she could only stare at him wide-eyed. A gash had been opened in his cheek and blood dripped down his face. Besides that, she could see no other mark on him.
"Your face…" she said, riding to meet him.
"He caught me with his damned ring," Connor growled, his eyes glinting as they rested on her swollen lip. " 'Tis nothing. I thought I told you to go home."
"I was afraid he might hurt you."
Connor snorted. Caitlyn turned Finnbarr to keep pace with Fharannain as they rode out of the trees and across the hill toward the farm.
"Should we just… leave him there?" She looked back over her shoulder toward where they had left Sir Edward.
"I'll send word to his people to come and get him. He won't bleed to death before then." Connor shrugged indifferently.
"But…"
"But nothing. 'Tis lucky he is that I didn't kill him outright. He deserved it."
" 'Twas only a kiss. And a blow. I've suffered worse."
Connor glanced over at her, his eyes glinting. "The man's the worst kind of bastard; your lip's as fat as a sausage. And 'twas only a kiss because I came when I did. Had I not, he'd have raped you. Don't tell me that wasn't his intention."
Caitlyn knew that was true, but she refrained from agreeing for fear of inciting Connor's rage again. It wouldn't take much for him to go back and finish what he had started, she feared. Not that she would bemoan Sir Edward's demise, but as the Englishman himself had pointed out, Connor could well hang for it.
"How did you come to be around to rescue me, by the by? I thought you were in Dublin-dancing with Mrs. Congreve." The last words, dripping sarcasm, forced their way out of their own volition. Caitlyn could have bitten her tongue through. She sounded for all the world like a jealous female-which, of course, she was.
The faintest hint of amusement showed for an instant in Connor's eyes as he slanted a sideways look at her. "I danced with many ladies, Mrs. Congreve among them," he said sedately. Then he added: "Fortunately for you, this morning I decided that I'd been away from Donoughmore long enough. I left Mickeen to get the rest of the supplies and set out. I was on the road when I heard a woman scream. Ever the chivalrous gentleman, I investigated and found-you."
He looked furious all over again. Caitlyn started to say something, but he turned such a blistering gaze on her that she was silenced.
"If you ever, ever ride out alone again, I'll sell the damned horse and send you to the nuns, blackmail or no," he told her fiercely, then set his heels to Fharannain and galloped for home.
XXIV
Two days later, Connor's gash had healed to a raw scar across his cheekbone, and Caitlyn's lip was back to its normal size. There had been no word from Ballymara, though, true to his promise, Connor had sent a message to Sir Edward's home advising that Sir Edward had suffered an "accident" and where he could be found. Caitlyn had been afraid that Sir Edward would not allow the matter to rest there. But nothing untoward happened and she tried to put the incident from her mind.
Connor's temper had not improved with the passage of time. When his brothers exclaimed over the state of his cheek and Caitlyn's lip, Connor had seized the opportunity to upbraid them for not keeping a closer watch on Caitlyn. When Caitlyn had rather miserably tried to smooth things over, Connor had snapped her head off, and the younger d'Arcys had not appeared particularly appreciative of her efforts. After that, Connor was busy. No matter when or how she tried to approach him, he brusquely cut her short. She found it hard to believe that he was so angry at her merely because she had ridden out alone and had gotten into trouble, but if the cause was other than that, she didn't know, because Connor wouldn't tell her. The effect of his silent anger w
as to make her miserable, and everyone else wary.
"For the Lord's sake, what've you done to the man?" Rory demanded of her after Connor had bitten everyone's head off during the midday meal before stomping off to harass the peasants in the fields. " 'Tis like living with a wolf with a sore paw!"
They were getting up from the table. Caitlyn had elected to muck out stalls rather than help with the clearing up, so she was leaving the house with the men. Mrs. McFee paused in the act of removing the plates to look sharply at Caitlyn as if listening for evidence that the evil she had always predicted was occurring under Donoughmore's roof.
"Hush," Caitlyn muttered to Rory, who was obediendy silent until they were safely on the stoop. Then he looked at her, eyebrows raised while he waited for an answer.
"I haven't done anything to him," she said defensively, lifting her skirts clear of her feet as she stepped to the ground.
Behind her, Cormac snorted. "Like as not, that's the problem."
Caitlyn, not understanding, stared at him as he fell into step beside her. Liam, trailing behind, went red to his ears. Rory, on Caitlyn's other side, looked at Cormac reproachfully.
"You shouldn't say things like that in front of Caitlyn. 'Tis not proper," he rebuked his brother.
Cormac shrugged. "Why not? If she's sleeping with him, then she's no innocent to have her ears sullied. And if she's not, why then, I'd say that's the problem."
There was a bitter note in his voice that told Caitlyn that he still resented Connor's edict. Impulsively, she put a hand on his forearm, bare where he had rolled the sleeves of his shirt past his elbows, stopping him. The others stopped too, watching as Caitlyn gazed earnestly up at Cormac.
"Can't we please be friends, Cormac?" she asked softly. "Just because I-I feel a certain way about Connor doesn't mean that I don't care for you too. And Rory. And even stodgy Liam." She favored Liam with a fleeting smile. "As brothers. We've been friends-good friends- for more than a year. Just because we're all growing up is no reason that has to change, is it?"
Cormac looked at her for a moment, the beginnings of a sulky frown on his face. Then he grinned reluctantly.
"Oh, I suppose not," he said. "Though you are certainly more interesting as Caitlyn the beauty than O'Malley the beggar-boy."
Rory and Liam laughed, and Caitlyn did too. A tiny comer of her heart healed to know that she was on good terms with the younger d'Arcys again. If only repairing her relationship with Connor were this easy…
"Thank you, Cormac," she said softly, planting a quick, sisterly kiss on his cheek. Then she did the same to Rory and Liam.
"Mighty free with your kisses, aren't you?" an all-too- familiar voice snarled behind her. Caitlyn and the three d'Arcys all whirled guiltily to find Connor standing a few paces away, a pitchfork in his hand and an ugly scowl marring his face. Like Cormac, he was in shirtsleeves, which he had rolled up past his elbows and left unfastened at the throat so that a wedge of hair-roughened bronzed skin showed there. He was wearing his oldest breeches and a pair of scuffed boots, and from the perspiration beading his brow and dampening his shirt, it was obvious to Caitlyn that he had beaten her to the task of mucking out the stalls. She felt herself flush with chagrin as she lifted her eyes to his face; the unspoken implication was that she should have done the work sooner.
"But, Conn…" Liam said plaintively. Connor glowered even at this brother who rarely provoked his ire.
Before more could be said, they were interrupted by the sound of a carriage approaching. Mrs. Congreve's gig rolled into the stableyard with the lady herself at the reins. Unable to stop herself, Caitlyn glared at the intruder and was pleased to note that the younger d'Arcys did the same. Connor's eyes narrowed on the newcomer, but it was impossible to tell if he was pleased at her arrival. In any case, Mrs. Congreve appeared to nodce no lack in the greeting afforded her, because she waved cheerily. Changing the direction of her horses, she drove over to where the five of them waited, drawing rein smartly when she was just a few feet away.
"Mucking out the stables, darling?" she called gaily to Connor, whose scowl had faded with her approach. He actually smiled as he crossed to her, pitchfork in hand. Caitlyn's glare deepened as she took in the lady's pristine beauty. Even on this hot summer day, not a hair was out of place on that powdered head. Mrs. Congreve was dressed in pink silk today, with flounces of silver lace and a pink feather drooping saucily from the side of her enormous hat. Looking self-consciously down at her own much-mended dress, Caitlyn felt her ire rise in direct proportion to her dowdiness.
"I'm a working farmer, you know, Meredith," Connor replied. He sounded jovial, which he hadn't been to any of them in days. Mrs. Congreve simpered at him, and Caitlyn felt her temper rise some more.
"I hope I haven't called at an inconvenient time," the woman went on, extending her hand to Connor. "But I heard from Sarah Dunne that you and Sir Edward had some sort of-er-contretemps, which left Sir Edward quite badly hurt. I had to see for myself that you weren't in like case, though I should have known there was no chance of that. Darling, I do hope I wasn't the cause of your disagreement?" She ended it as a delicate question, her expression telling Caitlyn that, contrary to her claim, she very much hoped she had been.
"Ah, that would be telling." Connor smiled charmingly as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. His eyes met Caitlyn's over the lady's white hand. She glared at him as he pressed his lips against the whiteness, and his eyes went hard in return. Then, still holding the lady's hand, he deliberately leaned over the edge of the gig and kissed Mrs. Congreve's soft cheek.
There was a collective indrawing of breath among the younger d'Arcys, and three pairs of eyes turned to Caitlyn to see how she would react to that. Caitlyn stiffened, her eyes fastened on the twosome by the gig. Pure animal rage flooded her veins; she clenched her fists as bright flags of color flew to her cheeks. Her eyes blazed dangerously. Deftly sidestepping Liam's hand lifted to stop her, she marched herself over to the gig, stopping when she was no more than a foot away from Connor's side.
"Oh, Connor, darling," she drawled in broad parody of Mrs. Congreve's mincing tones. When Connor turned to look at her, brows lifted, she drew back her hand and slapped him very deliberately across the face.
There was a moment's awful silence, broken only by the ringing sound of the slap. Then Mrs. Congreve gasped, Connor's hand went to his abused cheek as he stared furiously at Caitlyn, and the younger d'Arcys, moving almost as one, took a single protective step forward. But before Connor could respond with more than a look, Caitlyn turned on her heel and stalked into the stable, climbed into the loft and threw herself down on her stomach in the straw. And with a mixed sense of doom and satisfaction, she waited.
She had not long to wait. She sensed his presence even before he stepped off the ladder, even before she heard his booted feet on the floor of the loft. Still she continued to stare out the window, refusing to look at him even when he stood directly beside her.
"I hope you're bloody pleased with yourself," he began furiously.
"Shouldn't you be with your lady friend?" she said, putting sarcastic emphasis on the last two words as she rolled to one side and sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. Her reddened handprint was still plainly visible on the same cheek that had been cut by Sir Edward's ring. Above it, those aqua eyes gleamed at her with devilish anger.
"Aye, I should be!" He bit the words off, then made a palpable attempt to control his temper. When he spoke again, the anger was less apparent. "What maggot entered your brain to cause you to slap me? You've convinced Meredith that you're my mistress, and what Meredith knows the whole countryside knows soon afterward!"
"I don't care." She folded her arms over her breasts and looked stubbornly out the window.
"Well, I do!"
"Oh, is she angry at you?" Caitlyn asked venomously. "Good!"
There was a moment of charged silence. Caitlyn could feel the heat of Connor's eyes boring into her averted face. His next words he
ld an aura of carefully invoked patience.
"Caitlyn, you've no business to be jealous of Meredith. What is between her and me is no concern of yours. We are both adults, and you are naught but a child."
She looked at him then, her eyes blazing. "Oh, really?" Doubdess 'tis merely my imagination, but I seem to recall that you thought I was an adult not so many days ago. Or do you always go around kissing children like that?"
His eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed over his chest as he met her furious stare. For a long moment he only looked at her, and the final traces of fury faded from his face. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. " 'TWas a mistake and nothing more."
"A mistake! A mistake!" As his anger faded, hers was reborn. Caitlyn surged to her feet, her hand swinging in a wild arc toward his face again. Connor, ever fast on his feet, caught her hand before it could make contact with the self-same cheek it had smacked before and held it tightly.
"Caitlyn!" There was taut warning in his tone.
She ignored him, raging. "Why don't you admit it, Connor d'Arcy? You liked kissing me! I could tell you did! And if I'm jealous, you are too! 'Tis so jealous you are of your own brothers that you're practically green with it! Don't tell me that you didn't kiss that-that-Mrs. Congreve because you saw me kissing Cormac and Rory and Liam. And perfecdy innocentiy too, which is more than you can lay claim to!"
"Caitlyn!"
"Don't you Caitlyn me!" She swung on him with her other hand, but he caught that one too.
"Damn it, Caitlyn, if you hit me again I'm likely to turn you over my knee and tan your backside for you!" He was glaring at her even as he held her captured hands prisoner.
"When will you get it through your head that I'm too old for you to spank?" she hissed at him. "I'm a woman grown, Connor d'Arcy, and you know it! You're just afraid to admit it!"
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