O'Neil?"
"Not a thing, Majesty." Conor was feeling suddenly ill. All that fine
food and wine, which, until a moment ago had been so delightful,
were now congealed like a rock in his stomach.
He pushed away from the table and began to pace. "I should have
expected something like this. Should have taken pains to see that they
were watched." He looked up to see the queen staring holes through
him. "Forgive me, Majesty. AnnaClaire and Innis are devoted to my
brother, Rory. I knew they were desperate to save him. But I never
dreamed they would try such a dangerous, foolish thing all by
themselves."
"Not only did they attempt it, they succeeded. Now we must discover
where they have taken him." Her stare had his heart stopping. "No
one will be permitted to make me play the part of a fool. Do you
hear?"
"Aye, Majesty." He was mopping his brow when a knock sounded on
the door of the queen's chambers.
A moment later Lord Thompson entered, looking pale and shaken.
"I received word of your Majesty's...problem."
"Nay, James. It is not my problem. It is yours. O'Neil has escaped
from Fleet." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "With the help of a woman
and young lad. Where is your daughter?"
He glanced at Conor, then away. "I checked with my housekeeper.
She did not return home."
"Where would she hide?"
His mind raced. "I know not, Majesty. It is too far to our country
estates. In Rory O'Neil's condition, they would have to seek shelter
here in London."
"You had best pray that you find her before I do, James. For when I
find that headstrong daughter of yours, she will rue the day she defied
her queen."
"Aye, Majesty."
Lord Thompson was about to depart when a servant entered. Seeing
him she bowed slightly and gave him a smile. "I hope you enjoyed
your bread and broth, my lord."
He arched a brow. "Bread and broth?"
"Aye. Three bowls of broth, in fact. And a loaf of bread and some
cheese. I delivered it myself less than an hour ago to your chambers.
Your daughter thanked me and said you were resting comfortably."
The queen's head came up. "Did I say she was headstrong, James? I
should have said brazen. She has brought him here to Greenwich,
flaunting him under my very nose." She turned to the servant. "Send
for my advisors. Tell them to meet me at Lord Thompson's chambers.
At once."
Elizabeth strode out the door, leaving James and Conor to trail in her
wake as she stormed down the hall.
"I'm feeling almost human again." Rory emerged from the sleeping
chamber, where he had bathed and dressed. AnnaClaire had applied a
balm to his wounds, and had bound them with clean linen. She had
even managed to provide him with a pair of her father's clean
breeches and a fresh tunic, which had proved a bit too small for his
muscular shoulders.
He glanced at the boy, asleep on the chaise. "He was so brave." He
caught AnnaClaire's hand, brought it to his lips. "And you. What
would I have done without you, my love? You gave me back my
hope. My life. My dreams for a future." He led her toward the warmth
of the fire. "How in heaven's name did you ever manage to get me
past all the guards and into these quarters?'
"We stole a pony cart."
"You stole...?"
She placed a finger over his lips. "I know. It is very wrong. And I'll
make restitution. But desperate times call for desperate measures, my
love."
He merely grinned at her. He couldn't quite believe what he was
hearing. When had this prim and proper woman become so clever and
cunning?
' 'When we reached Greenwich, I told the guards we were delivering
fresh fruits and vegetables for the queen's own supper. Outside the
scullery Innis found a small wheeled cart, and we simply loaded you
inside and covered you with sacks. No one questioned a woman and
little boy delivering food to the queen's kitchen. Once inside, it was a
simple matter to wait until the servants were otherwise occupied to
bring you to my father's chambers."
"How very devious you are." The queen's voice was high-pitched
with anger as she yanked open the door and stormed inside, followed
by James and Conor.
At once Innis sat up, rubbing his eyes.
At the sight of the scowling monarch, Rory set AnnaClaire behind
him.
"Stand away, Irishman. I would speak to this deceitful young
woman." The queen crossed the room to confront AnnaClaire.
When Rory started to speak Conor shook his head. This was no time
for heroics. Seeing the warning, Rory stepped aside, but kept
AnnaClaire's hand clasped in his.
"You took it upon yourself to set a prisoner of the Crown free."
Elizabeth's voice shook with righteous anger.
"Aye, Majesty. Please forgive me. But I overheard Tilden say he
would have Rory beaten. And this time, he vowed, there would be no
mistake. He intended to see that Rory would be dead, so there was no
chance of escape."
"How can Tilden be a threat? I have ordered him held until his day at
Court."
Innis ran to AnnaClaire and stood beside her, determined to protect
her from the queen's wrath.
AnnaClaire glanced down at him, then said, "Perhaps he bribed his
way to freedom. Or perhaps he broke free by force. However the
method, Tilden arrived at Fleet, intending to kill not only Rory, but
the two of us as well, so there would be no witnesses."
"I simply cannot believe anything you tell me, woman." Elizabeth
glanced at the lad. "Is this true, boy?"
"Aye, Majesty."
"You would not speak an untruth to your queen?"
Innis shook his head vehemently.
"And where is Tilden now?"
Before the other two could speak Rory said, "He lies dead upon the
cold stones of Fleet Prison. His death is on my hands, and mine
alone."
AnnaClaire glanced at her father, seeing the shock and sadness in his
eyes. Then she glanced at Conor, and could see only quiet relief that
their adversary was dead. And a flicker of fear at what was to come.
Behind them, the queen's advisors filed into the room. Among them
was Lord Dunstan, who watched and listened in stunned surprise.
Elizabeth's voice was lower now. Less frantic. More resigned. "And
are you saying that you had no choice but to kill one of the Queen's
own soldiers?"
"Aye, Majesty. But I do not regret what I did."
"I did not ask you how you felt about it, Irishman. I asked only if it
was necessary."
"It was his life or ours."
She studied this arrogant rogue, who had caused such discord. For too
long now, talk of the Blackhearted O'Neil had dominated drawing
room conversations all across England. Now that he had washed
away the blood and grime, she could see why. He was indeed a
commanding presence, despite the ill-fitting clothes.
She turned. "Perhaps, Lord Dunstan, you were wrong in your
assumption tha
t these people could be easily subdued. Perhaps,
instead of stirring their rebellious hearts, their queen should try
another approach."
She folded her arms and walked the length of the room, then back.
She stopped in front of Rory and pointed a finger. "I have decided to
grant you your freedom, Irishman."
For the space of several seconds Rory couldn't speak. At last, finding
his voice, he bowed his head. "Thank you, Majesty. I am in your
debt."
"Indeed you are." She turned to Conor, enjoying the -look of
amazement on his handsome face. "And you, Conor O'Neil, interest
me. I desire your presence here with me."
"Here? With you? In England?"
She smiled for the first time. "Aye. By my side. You will teach me
about your country and its people. You will be my advisor on the Irish
problem. And you will work closely with Lord Dunstan." Out of the
corner of her eye she saw Dunstan's head come up. He would not be
pleased by this turn of events, but he would learn to accept it.
"But first, Conor O'Neil, you will return home with your brother, to
settle your affairs and prepare for a life at Court."
Conor bowed. "As you wish, Majesty." He could imagine his father's
reaction when he gave him the news. It had been Gavin O'Neil's
lifelong dream that his people have their own representative at Court.
But for Conor it would mean leaving behind all that was comfortable
and familiar, for a life among people like Dunstan, who would do all
in their power to undermine his relationship with the queen.
As he brushed his lips over the queen's outstretched hand, he had
another thought. This monarch would use him only as long as he
amused her. When her interest waned, she would discard him without
a thought.
The queen smiled her pleasure at Conor, then turned to AnnaClaire.
"And now there is the problem of this headstrong young woman."
AnnaClaire flushed.
"What am I to do with you?" Elizabeth tapped a slim finger against
her lips as she regarded her. "You have convinced me that you are
indeed blinded by some silly notion of romance." Her eyes narrowed.
"Would you deny it?"
"Nay, Majesty." AnnaClaire's heart had begun to beat faster. Could it
be? Was it possible that the queen was about to grant her fondest
wish? A dreamy, faraway look came into her eyes as she began to
imagine herself sailing back to Ballinarin with Rory at her side. They
would nurture young Innis, helping him grow into a fine young man.
And perhaps, if they were truly blessed, there would even be babies
of their own some day. Oh, how she longed to hear her queen give her
blessing to her dream.
"I have told you how I feel about the marriage arrangement. But I
suppose, in some cases it is best. In your case, I do believe that what is
needed is a strong hand to guide you. It is the only thing that will save
you from yourself. So." Elizabeth paused for dramatic emphasis. "I
will grant you permission to wed."
"Oh, Majesty." AnnaClaire dropped a curtsy and caught Elizabeth's
hands, kissing each of them. "From the bottom of my heart I thank
you."
The queen waved a lofty dismissal. "It is settled then." She turned to
AnnaClaire's father. "James, you will settle the terms of your
daughter's dowry. Her intended has expressed an interest in your
estate in Ireland. Clay Court, I believe it is called."
James Thompson nodded. "Clay Court is indeed part of AnnaClaire's
dower estate. I will assign it upon her formal betrothal."
' Then, as your queen, I formally pronounce the betrothal of Lady
AnnaClaire Thompson." The queen paused for dramatic effect. "To
Lynley Lord Dunstan."
"Lord Dunstan?" Rory went very still. A frightening hardness came
into his eyes. "If I but had a sword."
Innis, following Rory's lead, muttered, "If I but had my knife."
Conor, pale and ashen, whispered, ' If I but had the words."
Seeing and hearing them, AnnaClaire fought for control, for she
could feel herself dangerously close to the edge of hysteria.
At the sight of AnnaClaire's stricken face, Elizabeth added dryly, "I
thought you knew. Dunstan has spoken for you. And as your queen, I
have consented."
"But I..." AnnaClaire couldn't speak. She made another valiant effort.
"I thought..."
"I know what you thought," Elizabeth said sternly. "But I told you it
was out of the question. It is enough that I have spared the
Blackhearted O'Neil from the gallows. In return for that favor, you
will abide by your queen's decision. Is that clear?"
AnnaClaire could feel her eyes filling. She blinked furiously and bit
her trembling lip until she tasted blood. This time, there were no
weapons, no words, that could save her. But if this were the price she
must pay for Rory's life, so be it. She managed to whisper, "Aye,
Majesty."
"Good. Now you and Dunstan will come with me. We have
arrangements to make." She turned to Conor. "You and your brother
will leave at first light."
Conor refused to even look at Rory, knowing the murderous look he
would see. "As you wish, Majesty."
The men bowed as the queen swept from the room, followed by
AnnaClaire and Dunstan.
At the door AnnaClaire turned for a last glimpse of Rory and Innis.
But Dunstan closed a hand over her wrist and pulled her aside,
closing the door behind him.
For long moments no one spoke. No one moved.
Then Rory swore. Loudly. Fiercely. And slammed a fist into the wall
with such force, the candles on the mantel toppled.
He welcomed the pain. It gave him something to focus on besides his
shattered heart.
After two long years of hardship and misery, he had triumphed over
his enemy. Had won his freedom. And had thought that all his dreams
were finally within reach. But there was no sweet taste of victory.
Instead, there was only the bitterness of defeat.
In one hideous moment, he had lost everything that had ever mattered
to him. And the pain was almost more than he could bear.
Epilogue
'Briana." Moira was already seated in her splendid carriage, with her
husband Gavin beside her. The promise of spring had given way to
the glow of summer. The day was warm; the breezes gentle. "Where
is Rory?"
"In his chambers." The girl pulled herself up to the carriage seat
beside her parents. "He's sulking, as usual."
Moira cast a worried look at her husband.
Gavin shrugged. "It's all he's done since his return from London."
Moira sighed. "Did you tell him we were leaving for town?"
"He said he wasn't going."
"It's Velia's wedding day." Moira turned to her son. "Conor, speak to
your brother. You've always had a way with words. Explain to Rory
that Velia will be hurt if the whole family doesn't attend."
"Mother, stop poking and prodding at him." Conor pulled himself
into the saddle of a magnificent stallion. "A festive wedding is the last
place Rory wants to be. Let's just go or we'll be late
for chapel."
"We can't leave yet. Innis isn't here."
"Innis isn't coming either." Briana carefully cradled the basket of rose
petals that she would toss at the bride and groom after the ceremony.
"He's gone to the field again. It's all he does now. Sit out there,
looking at the place where they all died, and wallow in his fits of
sadness. He said he'd dreamed of the Englishwoman being his
mother. And now it's as though he's lost his mother all over again."
Moira gave another sigh as the carriage started off down the lane. All
she had wanted was her family together again. But now that her
prayers had been granted, she felt more frightened, more confused,
than when they'd been apart.
Rory kept to his room, pacing like a caged animal. And Innis had
returned more angry, more silent than ever. They were both wounded,
and she was at a loss to know how to help them heal.
She glanced at her son, Conor, so splendid in his satin breeches and
tunic, topped off with a cloak bearing the family crest. Soon he would
leave them for a kingdom across the sea. It might be years before he
would return.
And there was Briana, feeling lost and confused because her brothers
had put a distance between themselves and her. She was growing up
so quickly. Too quickly. Moira had seen the lass returning the looks
of the bolder lads in the village. There was a difference now in the
way Briana walked, as though aware of herself in a way she hadn't
been before.
Moira shivered. It was as though the sun had been snatched from
Ballinarin. And all that was left was a cold, barren wasteland. And all
the dreams she'd had for her family had blown away on a bleak, chill
wind.
Rory leaned a hip against the windowsill and watched as his family
headed to town. The thought of Velia's wedding, of anyone's
wedding, was too painful to endure.
How was he going to get through the days, the weeks, the endless
years, without AnnaClaire? He knew it was possible to live with a
broken heart. Hadn't he managed before? But then he'd had a goal to
focus on. A burning need for vengeance had become his beacon, his
reason for living. Now he had nothing. No reason to wake. No reason
to dress. He touched a hand to the dark stubble at his chin. No reason
to shave.
His life had become empty. Meaningless.
Rory Page 26
