“You seem to be settling in here well, Shive. But I would have you tell me if you are unhappy.”
“Unhappy? Why should I be?” Shive asked in bewilderment as she looked up from her loom.
“I couldn’t possibly have been your first choice of husband. At any rate, how could you be content with your brother Fiachra’s murderer?”
“I've never thought of you as that, well, not since we were married,” Shive revealed inadvertently as she turned her attention back to the intricate pattern she was weaving.
“Oh, really? And what has changed your mind?”
Shive looked up at the sound of his sharp tone, and answered honestly. “Maturity, on the one hand, and getting to know you better on the other. And as you once said to me, suddenly waking up one day to see that the familiar landscape outside my window had been rendered into a scene from a nightmare.”
Tiernan frowned. “I don’t understand, Shive.”
“Please, Tiernan, don’t ask me to explain, not now. I’ve not been able to resolve the situation in my own mind yet. Until I do, I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“And what situation might that be? Our marriage?”
“No, not at all,” Shive denied hurriedly.
“Well, what then?”
Shive took a deep breath and plunged in feet first. “Since you didn’t kill my brother, Tiernan, the question has to be, who did? It’s not a pleasant thought to contemplate.”
“What makes you so sure I didn’t kill Fiachra?” Tiernan couldn’t resist goading her. He moved to stand behind her, and placed his hands almost menacingly on her velvet-clad shoulders.
Shive shuddered with pleasure at the touch of his strong hands upon her, and desperately struggled for control over her treacherous body.
“Please, Tiernan, don’t do this,” Shive groaned, trying to pull away from his grasp.
“What is it you think I’m doing?” Tiernan whispered, running his hands down her front to cup her breasts intimately.
“You’re trying to force a confession from me. Confuse me into saying something that I shouldn’t,” Shive muttered, staring at the floor in an agony of suppressed desire.
“Have you so much to hide from me, my dear, that you fear my interrogation?” Tiernan murmured, stroking his lightly-bearded cheek against her own satiny smooth one sensually.
Shive felt her knees go weak, and was grateful for the fact that she was still sitting down. What if she blurted out now that she loved him? Surely he would laugh himself silly. How could Tiernan possibly ever believe her? And wouldn’t he completely reject her once she had made that admission? After all, Tiernan didn’t believe in love or marriage.
“Tiernan, really, it isn’t that I have secrets, I just, well, you have other things on your mind. I don’t see why I should bother you with troublesome confidences,” Shive managed to get out in a tremulous voice.
“Yet you confide in my brother and his fiance, and your cousins. What is so bad you can’t tell me,” he grated out harshly, suddenly releasing her and moving over to the other side of the room.
Shive began to weep. “It’s so bad I can’t tell anyone, Tiernan, don’t you see?”
Tiernan was taken aback by her tears. He had never seen Shive cry before, not even when her brother had died five years previously.
“I’m sorry, Shive, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Tiernan soothed. He held her tightly as she clung to him for a brief moment.
But then she pulled away and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her tunic.
“I must go. The others are waiting for me down in the carpentry shed. Cian and Mahon have been working on something in secret. They said they have the first pieces ready, and want my opinion. Will you come with me, Tiernan?” Shive invited, holding out her hand tentatively.
Tiernan was about to refuse when he caught the hurt look in her lustrous violet eyes.
“Of course I will.” Tiernan suddenly smiled. “I can’t wait to see what lopsided chests and rickety chairs that baby brother of mine has produced,” he managed to quip, despite his worries over her mood and behavior just a moment before. Taking Shive’s arm firmly in his own, he descended to the workshops with her.
“Even if they are terrible, Tiernan, please don’t make fun,” Shive whispered anxiously just before they entered.
“I shall be the soul of discretion, I promise,” Tiernan reassured her, with a small peck on her cheek.
The sheets covering the men’s secret handiwork were then lifted. Shive and Tiernan stood in stunned silence.
“My God, Cian, these are exquisite!” Tiernan couldn’t help exclaiming as he began to examine each piece in turn.
There were chests, tables, chairs, all in a rich dark walnut, with an intricate vine pattern carved all around them. But the most impressive feature of each piece was the hart and harp motif the craftsmen had worked into every piece.
“We got the idea from Shive’s tapestry that she made for your room,” Mahon explained.
Shive ran her hands along each piece in the matching suite of furniture, and declared, “It’s the most beautiful set I’ve ever seen. How clever of you to think of it.”
“And here's the best piece,” said Cian, as he uncovered a smaller item in the corner.
Shive blushed up to the roots of her hair, and looked away from Tiernan.
Tiernan immediately felt as though she had betrayed a confidence. For the surprise article was a cradle, and the two young men were looking at the couple so meaningfully that there was no mistaking their intention.
“It’s a wedding gift for you both, the whole set. That is, if you like it, of course,” Mahon added hastily when he saw Tiernan’s thunderous looks.
“Of course, the furniture is the best I've ever seen. But I wonder you took the trouble. There is plenty of furniture in the house already,” Tiernan said coldly.
“Not as much as you think. Besides, we want to give you a wedding present made with our own two hands, to thank you for helping us start up the business in the first place, both of you. And the good Lord knows you had few enough presents when you first wed,” Mahon explained hesitantly.
“Move the things out of Shive’s room, Tiernan, and let us put these in instead, please,” Cian requested.
Tiernan nodded curtly and left the workshop feeling winded. Of course Shive hadn’t betrayed him. It was only natural to assume that as husband and wife they might one day have a baby.
But the cradle had been a forceful reminder that he was playing with fire. He had lain with Shive every night, often more than once recently, for the past four months of their marriage. If Shive wasn’t pregnant already, she soon would be. How would Tiernan feel about their marriage then?
The sense of a trap having been closed around him angered Tiernan deeply. But it was not the girl’s fault. How could it be? She was mere pawn in all of this.
Tiernan decided once and for all that he had no right to rob Shive of her youth and beauty by making her into a mother, and thus tying her to him forever with a product of their union. To a political marriage of convenience only, or so Tiernan wanted to consider it. But what was he to do ?
Chapter Fifteen
Tiernan wrestled with his worries over his marriage to Shive at some length. At last, towards evening he marched into the great hall and said to Irial, “We’re going on a survey of the countryside, the outlying villages tomorrow. I want to see how the lambs and calves are coming along. We'll also visit our smaller castle at Tulrahan. We’ll be gone at least a fortnight, so I want you to prepare adequate provisions, and make whatever arrangements you see fit.”
“What will you be doing in the meantime?” Irial asked, puzzled.
“Having a look around the estate to see what needs to be done. We’ll organize work parties for repairs and so on, and I shall go over the accounts one last time. We might have to send to Galway for extra supplies as well. I need to talk to my wife about that,” Tiernan outlined as he marched decisively up t
he stairs to his work desk.
He checked over Shive’s most recent accounts, and could see she had tallied all of their family wealth down to the last penny.
The trading she had done had been remarkably successful. For the first time as he looked around the room began to fully appreciate all the hard work that had gone into making the small comforts she had added to the previously austere pair of chambers. There were the richly woven wall hangings, cushions. There were even some new shirts and tunics for him sitting on top of his trunk. He could also see that all his clothes had been mended, his boots polished, and his weapons well-honed and polished.
Suddenly he realized how much he would miss the castle. This for Tiernan was an astonishing thought. Never in all the years he had been out campaigning had he ever once thought of Castlegarren as a desirable residence. The excitement of the hunt, of the fight for lands, cattle, and supremacy, had always seemed to him to be infinitely preferable to a life calmly sitting at home by the fire. Now he was not so sure. Was this too Shive’s doing?
“Nonsense,” he said aloud. “I’m merely getting older. I shall be thirty soon enough, an old man.”
He worked at the desk for several more minutes, until he became aware of a presence behind him.
“Is there any thing you find amiss?” Shive asked, indicating the books.
“No, it all seems very impressive, Shive,” Tiernan replied stiffly. “I expect you to carry on while I'm away.”
“Away?” Shive repeated in a small voice.
“We need to start getting ready for the summer campaign season, and count the lambs and calves and other supplies. I’m sure you'll have some wonderful ideas about what to do with the hides and wool once we count up what we have. We’ll talk about all that when I get back in about a fortnight,” Tiernan said briskly, rising from the desk to leave the room.
“All right, Tiernan, whatever you say.” Shive nodded, trying to smile, but the bitter pang of rejection cut deep.
Tiernan paused in the doorway, and began, “Shive, you would tell me if you were, well...” Tiernan began, then closed his mouth abruptly.
“If you’re talking about the child’s cradle, my lord, it was just a gift which they believed was thoughtful on their part. I haven’t betrayed any confidences, if that’s what you think,” Shive added in a hurt tone. But almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she suddenly began to count...
“I just wondered if you opinion of me regarding your brother’s death had changed because you desired us to live in peace and harmony because there's a child on the way,” Tiernan said gruffly.
“I've always desired us to live in peace and harmony, Tiernan. But not because of any child we might have. I wanted to right the wrongs my family had done to yours. I thought all my hard work had proven that.
“Of course, if we did have a child, it might be a useful link between the two families, so that we would have no reason to be at each other’s throats. But I tell you truthfully, Tiernan, I know you're innocent of Fiachra’s murder. One day I would prove it, if only to have you finally trust me at last.”
Tiernan shook his head angrily. “Let sleeping dogs lie, Shive. It was all a long time ago and is of no consequence now.”
“It is to me, Tiernan," Shive maintained. "He was my brother, and we've all lived under the shadow of that dreadful crime for long enough,”
“And I tell you not to start dredging up the past, wife, is that understood? We're married now, and that has brought an end to the hostilities. If your father shows up here uttering any more threats while I'm gone, just ignore him,” Tiernan ordered, as he moved to pack a few items into his bedroll for his proposed journey.
“What do you mean, any more threats?”
“I, um-” Tiernan pretended to look in his wooden chest abstractedly, though inwardly he cursed himself for having let an important piece of information slip.
“He was here, wasn’t he, when I was ill! He accused you of neglecting me, harming me. Tried to insist on taking me home, didn’t he?”
“Didn’t he?” Shive repeated more firmly, when Tiernan remained silent.
Tiernan stared in surprise. “I didn’t think you would remember, you were so ill.”
“I do remember parts. They started coming back to me when I had those nightmares.”
His raven brows rose. “I see. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t sure. I'm sure now, just as I'm sure you are innocent of Fiachra’s death,” Shive stated in a firm tone.
“And I told you, Shive, it matters not a jot now. The damage has already done. It's pointless. You certainly can’t bring the dead back to life.”
“It matters to me. If Father tries to cause trouble again, I won't stand by and let him!” Shive argued hotly.
“And I tell you, wife, you won't put yourself at risk for me. I can fight my own battles!” Tiernan shouted as he pounded his fist upon the chest lid, raising his voice to her for for only the second time ever.
Shive stepped back as though she had been slapped, and ran from the room.
Tiernan sighed and rubbed his tired eyes with his hand. He had only wanted to protect her. Now he had injured her again. No wonder he had avoided relationships with women for so many years, he reflected, if they were all so difficult.
Tiernan however, soon changed his mind about describing Shive as difficult when he came up against the temperamental Orla late that evening just as he was coming back from checking their horses for the journey the following day.
“I’ve just been thinking that we don’t spend nearly as much time with each other as we used to, Tiernan,” Orla purred. “Remember all those wonderfully intimate chats we used to have together? Why don’t we meet in my chamber later? My brother Muireadach has just sent over the most fabulous wine and food from France.”
“No, thank you. I’m getting ready for a small expedition tomorrow, and have many things to prepare,” Tiernan said as politely as he could, disengaging his arm with great difficulty. “Now, I need to find my wife. You haven’t seen her, have you?”
“She’s with Cian as usual. Isn’t it odd that they always spend so much time together? Thick as thieves, the pair of them.”
At Orla’s evil insinuations, Tiernan felt an unaccustomed pang of jealousy. He hurried on down the corridor with her words still ringing in his ears.
“Have you seen my wife?” Tiernan asked Irial as he passed him on the ladder.
“She was in the kitchen helping make preparations for the journey tomorrow a few moments ago.”
“What of my brother Cian?” Tiernan asked as well.
“Why, in his workshop, I would imagine. He’s not going with us tomorrow, is he? He’d do better to stay here and continue training the troops with your wife,” Irial remarked innocently.
Tiernan’s jaw clenched. “Fetch him and send him up to my chamber. Tell him he is to come with me tomorrow!” Tiernan barked.
Irial shook his head, but went to deliver his message.
Cian’s only protest was, “Well, what about the carpentry?” when he saw Tiernan a few minutes later.
Tiernan dismissed his objection offhandedly. “Mahon can work on it.”
“And the troops?”
“I think Ernin should take over. I will not have my wife overtaxing herself,” Tiernan grumbled.
“She won’t thank you for trying to protect her, Tiernan,” Cian told his brother heatedly.
“Oh, really? And what would you know about it, Cian? Have you been discussing me behind my back?”
“Yes, we have, as a matter of fact. But only because you can be so damned stubborn sometimes!”
“Me? Stubborn? What have I done?” Tiernan bellowed.
“Nothing to make this situation easier, that’s for certain. You persist in treating Shive as though she were some sort of wayward child. I know you remember her from five years ago, in happier times before Fiachra died, but she's a fully grown woman now, with her own thoughts, feelings a
nd desires.
“She knows you would never have chosen her as a wife in the normal way of things. She has felt acutely the disgrace of having been disowned by her family and left a penniless outcast. You could have married anyone for a strategic alliance, but you accepted her out of loyalty to the clan, and fealty to Ruairi. Shive wants to make it up to you in any way she can. But as soon as she does anything good, you berate her in front of everyone, only embarrassing her further.
“Yet still Shive carries on trying to please you, even though she knows she’s bound to incur your displeasure. It's not in her nature to accept defeat. As a result, Shive feels guilty because she thinks she’s doing things behind your back, and inadequate because you always criticise her. Can you not see all this with your own two eyes, man? Or are you so blinded by hatred of her family, or your own selfishness, to recognize her truth worth?”
The Hart and the Harp Page 16
