“You blackhearted spawn! Of course you would know right where to find my things since you’re the one who stripped them from me!”
He said nothing, returning to the horses. Nor did he say a word when she approached, swathed in his heavy cloak.
She asked him for no assistance as she mounted the gelding and he didn’t offer to help her, knowing that he would be refused. Nor did she wait for him as he mounted beside her, but kicked her horse into a gallop.
He had been expecting as much, deciding it was a very good thing he carried her dagger in his belt. He caught up with her on his superior animal and took the lead. If she had the dagger, he knew he might very well have found the blade sticking in his back.
“No wonder she was so quiet when you returned to the camp. The ride home, too. So what are you going to do with her now, brother?”
Ronan stared into the flames, his throat so tight that he could barely swallow his ale.
He had asked himself that same question all the way back to Glenmalure, Triona’s sullen silence haunting him every interminable mile. Even when they had arrived at the stronghold, the warm midday sun already high above the mountains, she had refused to say a word to him or anyone else. Instead she had headed straight for her room while Ronan had gone to the hall, a grim-faced Niall striding after him.
“Ronan?”
Exhaling heavily, he met Niall’s eyes. “She’ll be welcome at the convent in Glendalough. I plan to escort her there in the morning.”
“A convent?” Clearly stunned, Niall leaned across the table. “This is madness! First you tried to foist her off on the O’Nolan and now you want to exile her. By God, brother, why won’t you just admit that what happened was because you want Triona? At the very least you should be offering to marry her—”
Ronan slammed his fist down so hard that the female servant stoking the fire jumped, dropping the poker with a clatter to the floor.
“Marry the woman, Niall? Against her will? That’s the only way I’d ever have her now, and I’d say I’ve already made her life enough of a hell. At least in Glendalough she’ll be safe and still have exactly what she wants, to remain unmarried and…to be far away from me.”
As the hall fell silent, Niall stared at him with amazement.
“What in blazes are you gaping at?” Ronan demanded.
“So you have considered marrying her.”
Ronan snorted. “That surprises you? Do you think I’m some kind of a callous lout? It was my first thought after—” He didn’t finish, staring into the flames again.
Nothing was said for a long moment until Niall gave a low whistle. “Begorra, brother, there’s hope for you yet. I was beginning to believe the day would never come, but that damned guilt of yours is finally loosening its devil’s hold. Triona’s broken through, hasn’t she? You’re smitten with her.”
Ronan looked up to find Niall grinning from ear to ear as if quite pleased with himself.
“Smitten? I recognize my responsibility if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Oh aye, your responsibility. I suppose we can call it that until you’re ready to admit you’re as entitled to some happiness as anyone else. So why, then, are you sitting here talking about taking Triona to a convent when what you really think you should do is wed her?”
Again Ronan’s fist hit the table, his roar filling the hall.
“Damn you, Niall, didn’t you hear me? I already told you she’d never marry me willingly—”
“And reasoning with her hasn’t helped you in the past? Or have you forgotten how you persuaded her to come to Glenmalure in the first place? You accomplished that feat easily enough.”
Ronan lunged from his chair so suddenly that the poor serving woman stoking the fire whirled in surprise. But Niall didn’t appear at all startled, his grin growing all the wider.
“In a hurry, brother?”
Ronan didn’t bother to answer, nor did he turn around when Niall shouted across the hall after him, “If I were you, I’d say nothing about any convent. It’s just one less choice to give her!”
Ronan didn’t need the advice. He’d already decided that he would offer no choice at all.
Triona laid her head against the tub’s hard rim, willing herself to relax. But if the steamy bathwater was proving a balm for her aching muscles, it was doing nothing to improve her mood. She felt as tightly strung as a bow. It wasn’t helping either that Aud was hovering over her, clucking her tongue indignantly.
“Look at those scratches on your skin! He’s a beast is what he is! Saved you from that Baron de Roche only to…to—”
“I already told you they’re not scratches, Aud.” Exhaling heavily, Triona sank farther into the tub. “They’re red marks from his damned mailshirt.”
“Scratches, red marks, it makes no difference to me, Triona O’Toole! They shouldn’t be there!”
“But they are, and there isn’t anything I can do to change that except wait for them to fade.”
“Aye, and I’m glad that we won’t be waiting here! I’m just sorry that it took something like this to make you come to your senses, sweeting. Sorry more than I can say.”
“That makes two of us,” Triona muttered as Aud went to the clothes chest and pulled out a sleeping gown. Aud had already insisted a half dozen times that Triona should at least try to rest after riding all night, but right now she was no closer to wanting to sleep than being able to relax.
She already knew that Ronan wasn’t resting. Aud had just checked and informed her that his room was still empty. No doubt he was at the feasting-hall, downing ale and wondering who among his clan alliances wouldn’t mind wedding a tarnished bride. But they’d find no bride waiting at Glenmalure. She and Aud and all of her pets would be leaving this wretched place as soon as Ronan and his men rode out on their next raid.
Triona hoped that blessed opportunity would come tomorrow. She couldn’t bear the thought that she and Ronan would be sleeping tonight under the same roof after…
She splashed water on her face, but it did little to cool the sudden flaring of her cheeks. Nor did it chase away the heated memories, making her swear once more that there couldn’t be a bigger fool anywhere in Éire than her.
How could she have surrendered to Ronan so wantonly? It wasn’t as if she cared about him—impossible thought! Knowing what he had done to her brother, how could she? And he certainly didn’t care about her.
“Someone’s coming, sweeting.”
Someone? Triona knew immediately it was Ronan, recognizing those determined footfalls. “My robe, Aud. I don’t want to be sitting here like a turtle in this tub!”
She had no sooner risen and wrapped the garment around her, the light wool sticking to her skin since she’d had no chance to dry herself, when Ronan knocked heavily. She nodded, imagining her eyes were as wide as Aud’s as her maid went to open the door.
Her heart was hammering, too, breathlessness, panic and fury seizing her all at once. She pressed her hand to her breast to steady herself, lifting her chin.
Yet no amount of steadying could have eased her hurt when Ronan suddenly was facing her. It was almost as if she were reliving how wretched she’d felt when he rolled from her so abruptly, refusing even to speak to her. She had to fight hard to keep tears from blurring her eyes.
“I’d expected you would be coming to tell me your plans for me, O’Byrne, but so soon?”
The bitterness in her voice hit him like a slap. Ronan, however, remained resolute.
Aye, she hated him. That he could tell. But even so, she would still have to listen to reason.
Seeing her now, her damp robe clinging provocatively to her body, her beautiful face the very picture of outrage, he knew that he wanted her. Needed her was more the truth of it, Niall’s words haunting him as much as the stirring memory of her passion.
He needed her as desperately as a drowning man grabbing for a branch that could save him, though he knew that would give her no consolation. Yet he hadn
’t come to console…
“We must talk, Triona. Alone.”
“Ha! You’re mad if you think I’ve any desire to be alone with you.” She gestured for Aud to stay. “There’s nothing you could say to me that isn’t fit for my maid’s ears as well.”
“Aye, if my sweeting wants me to stay, I’ll not leave her!”
Seeing the anger in Aud’s eyes, Ronan knew then that Triona must have confided in the woman. Sighing, he decided not to argue.
“Very well.” He met Triona’s eyes. “I want you for my wife.”
“Your wife, Lord?” Aud exclaimed before Triona could utter a word. But it was just as well so she had an instant to recover herself. Her heart felt lodged in her throat, her breath gone altogether.
He had just said he wanted her, hadn’t he? Jesu, Mary and Joseph! Could she have possibly been wrong about last night?
Triona started at the hard nudge in her ribs, realizing Aud had hastened to her side.
“Are you just going to stare at the man? The O’Byrne has asked you to marry him! You must answer!”
“Think of the babe that may have been planted in your womb before you say anything, Triona.” Ronan’s slate gray eyes burned into hers. “We’ve both a duty now—”
“Duty?” Triona blurted, feeling as if her whirling emotions had suddenly hit the ground with a terrible thud.
“Aye. I’ve a duty to you as well to take you for my bride. Last night should never have happened but since it did, we must wed. I’ll not turn my back on what is right and neither should you.”
Fool, fool, fool! Triona cried to herself, a familiar ache welling inside her. Duty? Obligation? She hated those words! That’s all she had ever been to him, an unwanted burden, a heavy stone around his neck, an oath given that he wished he’d never sworn.
“You’ve a very short memory, O’Byrne,” she heard herself finally say when Aud nudged her again. “I told you from the first that I don’t want a husband.”
“Things have changed now, Triona. But if it is your fears about marriage that are clouding your judgment—”
“I never had any fears about marriage!” Her face burning, Triona clutched her robe more tightly around her. “You and Niall, aye, and I suppose Maire as well may have thought so but you were all wrong. If you’d only asked me you would have known sooner that I’ll never marry until I meet a man who’ll respect me as I am! I’ll never give up my freedom for anyone and lastly for you, Ronan O’Byrne! You more than anyone else have tried to make me something I’m not—the dutiful maiden who would be more than content to be the dutiful wife. But I’m not Lady Emer and never will be, so clearly we’re not suited!”
“Then rest assured I will take you just as you are,” Ronan said as vehemently, so determined to have her that he was willing at that moment to thrust aside his better judgment. “You can do what you like, be as you like. You can even ride with my men and me on our raids if you’ve a mind to.”
“Ride with you?” Her incredulous laugh echoed around the room. “Do you think I’m such a simpleton that I would fall for your lies again?”
“It’s not a lie, Triona. As soon as we’re wed, you will see that this time I speak the truth.”
Incensed that he would so blatantly try to deceive her to satisfy his own damnable sense of duty, Triona was tempted to tell him exactly what she thought of his promise. But suddenly another idea struck her, an idea that almost made her smile in spite of her fury.
Why not deceive him as well? She had long wanted to teach him a lesson and now he deserved one more than ever.
If she could win herself some time by leading him to believe there was a way she might wed him—even though nothing could be further from the truth!—just think what she could do to frustrate him before she left Glenmalure altogether.
“Mayhap I’d be more inclined to consider your marriage offer, O’Byrne, if you were willing to first prove to me your good intentions,” she challenged him. “But since I can’t imagine that you would ever agree to such an arrangement—”
“Agreed.”
She was stunned by how readily he had answered, her heart beating faster at the determined look on his handsome face. For a man who was offering to marry her solely out of obligation, he seemed bent upon…
Triona followed his gaze, horrified to see that her hardened nipples were plainly visible beneath her sodden robe. Suddenly realizing what he must be thinking, she flushed from head to toe.
So lust was driving him, the spawn! Obviously since he’d taken advantage of her once, why should he bother now to control his baser instincts? She met his eyes, growing even more flustered when she saw the heat smoldering in those flint gray depths.
“You—you understand, of course, that just because we’ve already…well, it doesn’t mean that—”
“I won’t force myself on you again, if that’s what concerns you,” Ronan said tightly, regretting the concession immediately.
Yet he wouldn’t wait forever. A few weeks should be more than enough time to convince her that he’d meant what he said about taking her just as she was—sheer madness though it may be.
“Get some rest, Triona. We’ll be planning our next raids in the morning. With so many Normans flocking to join King John, there should be manors aplenty left poorly guarded and ripe for plundering. De Roche’s castle in Kildare could even become a target—”
“De Roche?”
“Aye. He may have escaped our vengeance until King John sails back to England, but at least we can ravage the bastard’s home—if enough of his men leave for Dublin and make the risk a small one.”
Triona was so astonished that Ronan was already including her in his plans, she said nothing more as he left the room. It was Aud who finally broke the stillness.
“So we’re staying, sweeting?”
Triona shot her a frown, hearing little disappointment in Aud’s voice. “For a time. But don’t fire your hopes just because Ronan mentioned marriage. He’s still a beast, just as you said. Nothing has changed.”
Except that now she would finally be able to repay him for all the torment he’d caused her.
“You’d turn your back on him even if there’s a babe?”
Triona hesitated, feeling a pain in her heart. But she had only to remember the hated word duty upon Ronan’s lips, and she squared her shoulders. “Aye, Aud, even that couldn’t make me marry him.”
Chapter Nineteen
A brilliant sunny morning greeted Triona as she left the dwelling-house. Conn trotted at her side, and the stronghold was already alive with the sounds of children laughing and playing, dogs barking, and people going about their work.
“Go, Conn.” She gestured to the dogs chasing each other near the kitchen. “Go and play, too.”
As the wolfhound bounded away, Triona flung her arms over her head and stretched. She had slept much later than she had planned. Surprising considering she hadn’t expected to sleep at all after Ronan had left her. But exhaustion had overcome her.
She felt fine now, though. Well rested, well fed, a hasty breakfast of oat bread and honey warming her stomach. And she was more than eager to exercise her newly regained freedom. She had even gone to Ronan’s room to enjoy the reaction her leather jerkin, shirt and trousers might have upon him, but he wasn’t there.
Nor had his monstrous bed looked slept in, making her wonder if he had stayed up all night drowning his misery in ale. No doubt since he had asked her to wed him, that stone around his neck had grown all the heavier.
“I hope it chokes him,” she muttered, making her way to the feasting-hall where she imagined Ronan and his men were gathered. Aye, if he thought her a burden now, just wait…
“Triona!”
She tensed as Niall left the hall and made straight for her. She suspected he might be angry with her over the other day, but he was smiling broadly. In fact, his eyes were fairly dancing.
“You look well this morning, Triona.”
“And you look v
ery pleased about something, Niall O’Byrne.”
“Can’t I look pleased to greet the woman my brother has asked to wed?”
Triona didn’t know why she felt so stunned. Of course Ronan would have told Niall. Probably Maire, too. Yet it made her feel more than a bit embarrassed.
“Ronan asked me, but that doesn’t mean I’ve accepted,” she said stiffly, deciding she’d say no more on the unpleasant topic. She brushed past Niall, but he caught up with her and fell in step.
“That’s true, indeed, Triona, but at least you finally have your wish. I heard that you might be riding with us.”
“Might?” Triona shot him a sharp glance. “I fully intend to. Is that brother of yours in the hall?”
“Aye, with our clansmen. He asked me to come and fetch you. He thought you might want to hear our plans.”
“So I do, but I’m amazed Ronan can consider strategy at all after drinking through the night.”
“Drinking? What makes you think he—”
“His bed wasn’t slept in, Niall. Not even touched. Where else could he have…?” Suddenly she stopped cold in her tracks, a fierce pang ripping through her. Niall had the most curious smile on his face.
“There’s no other woman if that’s what you’re thinking, Triona. Ronan’s moved into another dwelling-house. He thought you might prefer that for now—given everything that’s happened.”
Her cheeks flaring hotly, she couldn’t answer; she stormed instead for the hall.
Of course she didn’t care in the least if Ronan had another woman…ten women! Twenty women! It would be a good thing if he did. He might have said he wouldn’t force himself upon her, but that didn’t mean she believed him. She’d seen that hungry look in his eyes.
“Triona, wait!”
She paused at the doors as Niall again caught up with her. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his expression very serious.
“I just want to warn you that not everyone is pleased you’ll be riding with us. Ronan has always allowed his men their fair say in clan matters, and this time is no exception. Many of them are arguing that raiding is no fit calling for a woman, but home and hearth—”
Lords of Ireland II Page 130
