strategy."
"Perhaps it's you who'll need the lesson, Father." Rory's mouth
twitched in amusement.
The two men took their seats, while the others stood in a Circle
watching. Both men studied the pieces.
Rory looked across the table. "I believe the first move is yours,
Father."
"Aye." Gavin glanced up at AnnaClaire, thought about what she'd
said, then dismissed it and moved another rook instead.
Rory glanced at his father in astonishment. "Are you certain this is
what you want to do?"
"I am."
Rory moved his chess pieces and said, "You should have listened to
the lady, Father. I have you in checkmate."
Gavin's eyes grew stormy, and for a moment AnnaClaire thought
there would be another outburst. He fixed her with a steely look.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you. Englishwoman?"
"Did what?" She could feel her cheeks growing warm as the others
turned to stare at her.
"Offered advice, knowing I'd be quick to reject it, since it came from
the likes of you."
She shrugged. "I intended nothing of the kind. But if you wish to
think so, I have no way of changing your mind."
"There may be a way."
She met his look.
"Do you think you could beat me, AnnaClaire Thompson?"
"I've been playing chess with my father since I was a child. And
routinely beating him."
"Ha. But he is a bloody Englishman. I challenge you to a game of
chess with a wily Irishman."
AnnaClaire glanced around at the others, who looked as surprised as
she felt.
"But, Father." Briana's eyes were wide. "You've always refused to
teach me the rudiments of the game, because you said it's a strategy
only men can understand."
"Aye. A game of war. A game of wiles and wit. Thefemale mind
simply cannot comprehend such things. Well, my lady? Are you
afraid I'll humiliate you?"
As he'd suspected, she couldn't possibly refuse his taunt. "I accept
your challenge, Gavin O'Neil."
"Let's get started then."
Moira touched a hand to her husband's shoulder. "Gavin, the lass
must be growing weary. Think of the difficult journey she has
undertaken in the last few days."
"She can sleep as long as she pleases. As soon as the game is over."
Before Moira could protest further, Conor draped an arm around his
mother's shoulder and led her toward the settle. "Come. We'll warm
ourselves with some ale and listen to Rory's tales of adventure."
For the next hour or more Rory made a half-hearted effort to oblige.
But he found himself distracted by the image of AnnaClaire facing
his father across the chess board. Did she have any idea what she'd
gotten herself into? To his father, this was no game. It was war, about
which Gavin O'Neil felt passionately. By the time it was over, lovely
AnnaClaire would no doubt be reduced to tears.
"I've backed you into a corner, Englishwoman." Gavin's eyes danced
with delight. They had begun at a slow, leisurely pace as each player
tried to surmise the strategy of the other.
He'd been surprised by the lady's quick mind. She'd very cleverly
determined where he was going, and effectively blocked every move.
But now she was about to face defeat.
"Aye. That you have." She studied the options left open, then gave
him a slow smile. "So I'll just have to say....checkmate, Gavin
O'Neil."
"That's impossible. I thought out every move. By all that is holy..."
His voice exploded, bringing everyone out of their chairs to hurry
over.
Rory and Conor were studying the chess pieces, while Moira was
staring at her husband, trying to gauge the depth of his anger. She
didn't want another outburst like the one they'd witnessed in the
dining hall.
Behind her, young Innis hung back, as he'd done all evening, and kept
his gaze fixed on the floor. The arrival of Rory O'Neil and this strange
woman had added to his agitation. And the news that she was English
had sent him into some dark place in his mind.
Briana clung to Rory, as she had all evening, needing desperately to
assure herself that her adored brother was really here with her. But it
was AnnaClaire who had captured her attention. All her young life
Briana had heard about the cruelty of the English. Yet this female was
far from cruel. AnnaClaire Thompson was unlike any young woman
she had ever known. She'd actually risked her life to save a stranger.
She had traveled clear across Ireland, facing unknown perils. And she
sat here calmly playing a confusing game of strategy with a man who
considered her his enemy.
Though she knew it was treason to entertain a kind thought about the
English, she was almost sorry AnnaClaire would have to take her
leave on the morrow. Briana found her fascinating.
"I do believe you've lost, Father." Conor's tone was incredulous.
"The woman is a sorceress." Gavin downed a tumbler of whiskey,
then studied the pieces again, looking for a way out.
"Face it, Father. She's bested you."
The older man shook his head. "It isn't possible."
Moira patted his shoulder. "It's time we all took our rest, Gavin. After
all, 'tis only a game."
"A game?" His eyes narrowed. "This is no mere game. And I've never
met a woman whose mind could grasp the strategy of war."
"You've met one now." Rory set his tumbler down and caught
AnnaClaire's hand. "Well done, my lady." With a bow, he brushed his
lips over her knuckles. "Now, whether you like it or not, Father,
AnnaClaire has earned a well-deserved rest."
"Rest is it?" Gavin stared at the chess pieces, then at the woman
who'd beat him. "Aye. We'll all rest. But on the morrow, after we
break our fast, we'll match wits again."
Before anyone could stop her, Briana blurted, "But Father, you
ordered the Englishwoman to leave on the morrow."
"I did indeed." To hide his discomfort Gavin broke the silence with a
roar. "No bloody Englishwoman will leave Ballinarin until I have the
chance to redeem myself." He stared hard at AnnaClaire. "Is that
clear?"
She gave a slight nod of her head. "Quite clear, Gavin O'Neil. I'll give
you that chance on the morrow, before I take my leave of this place.
Now I bid you all good' night." She walked out of the library beside
Rory.
When she was gone, Gavin glanced at his family. "Well? What are
you looking at? I think it's high time we ail took our rest."
"Aye. Good night, Father." Conor kissed his mother's cheek, then
herded Briana and Innis out the door, with the hounds following.
Alone by the fire, Moira studied her husband for long, silent
moments. "You like her, don't you?"
"Like her? How can I possibly like her? She's bloody English."
"Aye, though she has some Irish blood in her." She peered at him
from beneath her lashes. "And you like her."
"I don't like defeat." He took her hand and led her from the room.
As they climbed the stairs she whispered, "Admit it, Gavin."
/>
He shot her a sideways glance. "I admit nothing."
Moira sighed. Gavin O'Neil had always been an obstinate man. But it
was one of those things she'd always managed to overlook. He was,
after all, the love of her life.
But in this instance, she had to admit that her husband was right to
order the young woman to leave. AnnaClaire Thompson might have
won the heart of their son, but she was still the enemy. And they had
no way of knowing if this Englishwoman truly returned their son's
affection, or if she was using him for some sinister purpose.
Perhaps she was part of a plot to bring the English soldiers into the
O'Neil stronghold. If so, she would soon learn that the O'Neils would
do whatever it took to keep their loved ones safe from all harm.
Especially here in their own home.
Chapter Fourteen
"Oh, my lady." As AnnaClaire stepped into her bedchamber, Velia,
the little servant, sprang up from the chaise where she'd fallen asleep.
"Forgive me."
"It's quite all right, Velia. I'm sure you've put in a very long day."
"Aye, my lady." The girl shoved stiff, corkscrew curls from her eyes.
' I was up before dawn so I could go down to the village and see..."
She bit her lip, wondering how much to reveal. Her voice lowered.
"There's a farmer, you see. Titus O'Malley. I bake him bread and
biscuits and bring them to him before he leaves for the fields."
"A farmer? Is he courting you?"
Velia nodded.
AnnaClaire studied her with surprise. "But you're so young."
"Not so young. I'm ten and three. And long for a family of my own.
Sometimes, when my chores are finished, I go into town and help my
sister with her young one. She has a wee babe, and needs a bit of help
now and then."
"The O'Neils don't mind that you leave?"
"Nay. They encourage it. They know how much my sister means to
me, now that she's the only family I have left." She blushed. "Well,
my sister and Titus."
"What happened to the rest of your family?"
"My parents and younger brother were killed."
"I'm sorry, Velia. How did it happen?"
' 'They were taking some sheep to market across the river, and were
attacked by English soldiers..." The minute the words tumbled out of
her mouth the little servant looked away. By now she had heard, as
had all the household, the truth of AnnaClaire's parentage. The
O'Neils' furious response to such news had been repeated by all the
servants. "Forgive me, my lady. I've been known to trip over my own
tongue."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Velia."
"Oh, but I do. No matter what, you are a guest at Ballinarm Here, let
me help you." She hurried forward, eager to make amends.
"'Twouldn't do for you to feel neglected. Especially now that himself
gave you a wee taste of his temper."
"A wee taste?" AnnaClaire couldn't help laughing. The sound of it
eased the tension in the little servant.
"Aye, my lady. You wouldn't wish to feel the full force of the O'Neil's
temper." At the thought of it, even Velia's freckles seemed to shiver.
"For 'tis fierce indeed. Like a great storm blowing in from the sea. All
who know him fear the O'Neil. Now, let's get you out of that dress."
AnnaClaire carefully removed her borrowed gown and slipped on the
nightshift Velia offered her. "Have all the O'Neils inherited their
father's temper?"
"I'd say Rory and his sister are the most like the O'Neil. Not that
Conor doesn't have a temper, but, like his mother, he's learned to
subdue it."
"Rory told me that Conor prefers talking to fighting."
"Oh, aye." Velia broke into a sunny smile as she led AnnaClaire
across the room to an ornate dressing table. "A silver tongue that one
has. I think his mother wishes he would use his gift to spread the
faith."
"A man of the church? Do you think he will consider it?"
"So far Conor's been busy using his gift to charm the maidens."
In the mirror AnnaClaire could see the little spots of color on the girl's
cheeks. It would seem that despite her courtship by a young farmer,
she was not immune to Conor O'Neil's charms.
Velia removed the combs from her hair and ran a brush through the
tangles. "Not that Rory O'Neil hasn't always made the maidens' hearts
flutter as well. But everyone knew he had eyes only for his Caitlin."
AnnaClaire felt a quick jolt around her heart. "Did you know her,
Velia?"
"Oh, aye. And all her family. It doesn't seem possible even now that
all are gone. Except Innis, poor lad."
"Tell me about Innis."
She lowered her voice. "He's very bitter. He never smiles. Hardly
even speaks. And never about...that day."
The two young women fell silent, each lost in thought.
Finally, to banish the sadness, AnnaClaire glanced down at the filmy
nightshift, edged with lace at the hem and sleeves. "It was so kind of
Briana to offer me the use of these beautiful clothes."
"She's a lovely, generous girl." Velia set aside the brush. "Besides,
she cares nothing for such things."
"What does she care about?"
"Swords. Horses. Anything that Rory likes. He's always been the one
she looked up to. It near broke her heart when he left. She was like a
bird without wings. And now, oh, the look on her face when she
realized her hero was truly home."
AnnaClaire nodded, remembering. Briana's tears of happiness.had
stained her cheeks all the day long.
The little maid turned down the bed and drew the heavy draperies at
the windows. Then, adding a log to the fire, she said, "I'll bid you
good night now, my lady, and leave you with my family's blessing.
May the angels bless your dreams until the morrow."
"Thank you, Velia." AnnaClaire was touched by her gentle words.
"Where will you sleep?"
"I've a room here at Ballinarin. I've been assured it is my home, for as
long as I choose. And for that I'll be forever indebted to the O'Neils."
AnnaClaire settled herself on the edge of the bed and watched as the
maid took her leave. For a moment she stared at the flickering flames
of the fire and thought about all Velia had told her. No wonder Gavin
O'Neil had reacted so violently at the mention of her father's name.
She regretted the fact that English soldiers were the cause of so much
pain and suffering for these good people. Still, it was unfair to blame
one man. If only they knew her father as she knew him.
She thought again about Gavin O'Neil's outburst. It was difficult to
reconcile that man with the one who had opened his home to the
orphans, Velia and Innis. It would seem that despite his famous
temper he was a kind and generous man as well. It seemed a shame
that men of different nations, different loyalties, could not know each
other as their families and friends knew them.
She shook her head, weary at being torn apart by all this.
With a sigh she sank into the softness of down. But just as her eyes
closed, she heard the opening of a door. She looked up, and saw Rory,
"I thought she'd never leave."
"Who?" She sat up, unmindful of the blankets that slipped away,
revealing the sheer garment.
But Rory took notice and felt his throat go dry at the sight of her.
"Your long-suffering maid."
She was shocked. "You were listening at my door?"
"Aye." He gave that dangerous smile she'd come to know so well.
"How else would I know when you were alone?"
As he began stripping away the last of his clothes she whispered
fiercely, "Rory you musn't be here."
"And why not?" He lifted the blanket and slipped into bed beside her.
"Because this is your parents' home. It isn't right."
"Tell me this isn't right." He cupped the back of her head and kissed
her, long and slow and deep.
It was impossible to think, or to resist. She clung to him, returning the
kiss.
Then, coming up for air, she pushed him away a little. "You know
what I mean. The servants will talk. Your parents will know. The
entire household will know by morning that you shared my bed."
"Aye. If they don't already know, they must be blind." He combed his
fingers through her hair and began nibbling her chin, the corner of her
mouth.
She could feel the heat, the need, beginning to build deep inside.
"I've missed you, AnnaClaire. All day, all evening, all I thought about
was you. About this." He drew her down into his arms and kissed her
again until they were both breathless. "Tell the truth. Haven't you
thought about me, as well?"
"Umm." She nodded, too overcome for words.
"Just think." He ran soft kisses over her nose, her cheek, her eyelid.
"No matter how long the day seemed, we have the whole night now to
ourselves."
"Oh, if only it could always be so."
"It will be, love. I promise."
With exquisite tenderness he took her on a long slow journey of love.
"Good morrow, my lady." Using her hip to open the door Velia
backed into the room carrying a pitcher of water and an armload of
fresh linens. Several of the hounds bounded into the room behind her.
When she turned, she realized her mistake. "Oh, forgive me, I thought
surely you were awake by now."
At her words AnnaClaire forced herself upward from sleep like one
who'd been drugged. For a moment she couldn't recall where she was.
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