Lords of Ireland II

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “Then I’m asking you not to try to stop me for I can wield a knife as well. If I’m to be the mistress here at Glenmalure, I’ve a right to say when I feel something is unjust. And I say that this hostage deserves better, no matter she’s a MacMurrough. Are we understood?”

  The man bobbed his head but Triona was already moving to the corner where she sank down on her haunches, so close now that she could tell in spite of the meager light that the young woman was of unsurpassed loveliness. Yet even silky blond hair and large green eyes hadn’t spared her from Ronan’s wrath.

  Triona saw, too, that the young woman had begun to cry albeit silently, for she could do aught else with that disgusting gag in her mouth.

  “Aye, I don’t blame you a bit for weeping after what you’ve been through,” Triona murmured as reassuringly as she could. “Don’t be frightened by the knife. I’m going to cut away your gag, is all.”

  She did so quickly and with a deft hand, tossing the sodden cloth to the floor. Then she made short work of the cords tied far too tightly around chafed ankles and wrists, flinging them away in disgust. She looked up to find the young woman staring at her, fresh tears filling her eyes.

  “Th-thank you…”

  “Triona. Triona O’Toole.”

  The young woman nodded, a trembling smile on her lips as she gestured to herself, saying brokenly, “Caitlin MacMurrough.” But she just as quickly sobered, tears tumbling down her pale cheeks as she rubbed her reddened wrists. “My father is Donal—”

  “Aye, so I guessed, but that’s certainly no sin of your own making.” Triona rose, saying over her shoulder, “Could you come and help me lift her to her feet?”

  When she got no answer, Triona turned around to find that the clansman had fled. Imagining the alarm he must be raising, she felt nervousness bubble inside her, but she did her best to tamp it down. “Well, Caitlin MacMurrough, it seems we’re on our own. Your ankles look like they must be hurting you. Can you stand?”

  “Aye, I think so.”

  “Then take my hands.”

  As Triona pulled the younger woman up in front of her, she saw at once that Caitlin stood no taller than herself which made her grin.

  “You must come from a family of short women.”

  “You, too.”

  Glad to hear that Caitlin’s tone had brightened if only a little, Triona gave a shrug. “I never knew my true mother, but aye, I suppose she was small like me. Lots of copper hair, too.” She took Caitlin’s arm. “How about a bit of Wicklow sunshine?”

  Triona wasn’t surprised when Caitlin held back, fear shining in her eyes.

  “You…you can truly do this? What if Black O’Byrne—”

  “I’m marrying the man this very day,” Triona broke in, hoping she sounded confident. “Once I explain things, Ronan will understand it’s only right that you should be treated better during your stay among us. A wife’s feelings must stand for something.”

  With that, Triona led Caitlin from the tiny room, hoping too, that the young woman wouldn’t sense that her nervousness was mounting. It didn’t help either that there was a silent crowd of clansmen standing outside. Caitlin cringed at her side.

  “Your father’s a proud chieftain, aye, Caitlin MacMurrough?” she gently chided as they drew closer to the door.

  “He—he is.”

  “Then hold your head high as if you were walking among your own people…and don’t forget I’m right beside you.”

  Triona wished she had someone to bolster her courage as they stepped outside, the clansmen’s stern faces truly a daunting sight. But it was the hostility in their eyes that struck her most acutely, as if all the resentment the O’Byrnes had ever felt for the MacMurroughs and their traitorous past deeds was directed toward this one poor girl. Triona could hardly blame Caitlin when she hesitated again.

  “Don’t worry, Caitlin, I’m going to take you to my house. We’ve an extra room where you’ll be more comfortable—”

  “Triona!”

  She stopped as Ronan strode toward her through the crowd, his face thunderous. Bracing herself, she held onto Caitlin’s arm that much more firmly, certain that if she didn’t the young woman would bolt like a terrified rabbit right back into the grain house.

  “Ronan, if you’d let me—”

  “By God, woman, have you lost your senses?”

  He’d gestured to his clansmen before Triona had a chance to speak, Caitlin yanked from her grasp and surrounded by guards. Immediately the young woman burst into tears.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Triona shouted indignantly, only to have Ronan seize her by the shoulders and shake her. Shake her! In front of his clansmen, some wives, even wide-eyed children.

  “Damnit, Triona, you’ve no leave to countermand my orders! None!”

  “Even if your orders are unjust and cruel? She’s barely more than a girl, Ronan!”

  He shook her again, not as roughly this time although his voice hadn’t grown any less ominous. “There’s no such thing as cruel when it comes to dealing with a MacMurrough. The wench’s treatment here is no less than she deserves—”

  “She deserves to be trussed like a wild animal? Her bindings so tight that in another day’s time, her wrists and ankles will be bloody and raw?”

  “Aye, if it prevents the chit from causing any trouble.” Ronan jerked his head toward the grain house, his clansmen at once hustling their weeping prisoner through the door.

  “No!” Furious, Triona wrenched free of Ronan’s grasp and spun to race after the clansmen. But Ronan caught her again, pulling her around to face him.

  “Come away from here now. Do not shame yourself, woman.”

  “Shame myself?” Incredulous, Triona felt tears searing her eyes. “You’re the one who should feel shame, not me! I thought you might understand. That you might care for my feelings. Damn you, Ronan, I’m to be your wife! Have I no say in what I think is right or wrong?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then allow Caitlin some better treatment. Surely you can see the wisdom in releasing her to her father unscarred from this ordeal. She could have my old room until the ransom comes—the door can be locked after all and guards posted at the windows—”

  “No MacMurrough will ever sleep under my roof!” Ronan cut in so harshly that Triona flinched. “I’d burn the place to the ground first, just as they helped the Normans torch our homes in Kildare. Just as they did to all that once belonged to the O’Tooles, Triona, a fact you’d do well to remember.” He took her by the arm, pulling her along beside him. “The hostage will remain at the grain house. A fitting place since her ransom is going to help fill it.”

  “Then I have no say, do I?” Triona demanded, angry tears slipping unchecked down her flushed cheeks.

  “Not in this matter.”

  “Aye, well, then you have no bride!”

  Her vehement outburst breaking through his fury, Ronan stopped to face her, incredulous. “You would let this mar our wedding?”

  “What wedding? There won’t be one as long as Caitlin MacMurrough is being treated like an animal.”

  His ire rising again, Ronan tightened his grip on her arm. “Everything will soon be in readiness, Triona. I’ve been up since before dawn to ensure that it would be so. And the priest is here—”

  “Then he can damned well go back to Glendalough! I’ll even help him to his horse! Do you think that I could enjoy this day knowing a poor defenseless girl was suffering so miserably right in our midst?”

  “Others are suffering, too, Triona. Don’t forget that her clansmen nearly killed my brother.”

  “Caitlin had no hand in the crime. Her only offense is that she was born a MacMurrough, and for that she’s already been wrested from her home and people. Are we such barbarians that we can’t show her some compassion?”

  Ronan heaved a sigh of utter exasperation, the tears drying upon Triona’s face moving him more than her words. “Very well, you can visit her if you’ve a mind to. But she’
s to remain bound and at the grain house!”

  Ronan had truly thought this concession would appease her until she shook her head.

  “She can’t stay tied, Ronan. Her skin’s already chafed and it might be days before her father has news that she’s been captured. Then there’s the time it will take for the ransom to be gathered and brought to Glenmalure…”

  Triona’s beautiful eyes pleading with him, Ronan almost relented. But he had only to think of how close Niall had come to death the other night…how it could have been Triona struck by one of those arrows, to know that he could not stomach coddling any accursed MacMurrough.

  “You heard my offer, woman. I can do no more.”

  Triona looked momentarily stunned. Then she lifted her chin a good two inches.

  “Very well, Ronan. Send the priest home.”

  He could only stare at her, the realization that she would abandon their wedding because of a MacMurrough almost more than he could bear. Before he could say anything he might regret, he turned and stalked away.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Aye, I’ve never seen the like in all my days. Two people who love each other allowing a fuss like this to come between them? It’s plain foolishness, is what it is!” came Aud’s reproach from across the room.

  Triona didn’t need to look from the window to know that her maid was frowning at her. Aud had been grousing and scowling for the past five days, and she wasn’t the only one.

  A pall had descended over the stronghold, Ronan’s black mood affecting his clansmen, their families and the servants alike. A freakish run of summer storms hadn’t helped matters. Triona had never seen so much rain, even now the windows being pelted by a wicked downpour that had begun an hour ago. Well, two windows. The one she had shattered over a month ago was still boarded up, the rain making a nerve-wracking clatter upon the thin planks of wood.

  “How much longer are you going to play this stubborn game of yours, sweeting? A week? Two?”

  Triona gave an exasperated sigh. The last time she’d heard that question, Aud had called her spiteful. Had it really been only ten days past that she and Ronan had gone hunting together, ending up in that horrible deer trap? It seemed so long ago. She glanced over her shoulder to find Aud wielding her needle with a vengeance upon the pair of dark trousers spread over her lap.

  “This ‘fuss’ as you call it, Aud, could have been settled the very morn of what should have been my wedding day.”

  “Aye, if the O’Byrne had given in to your demands about the MacMurrough girl. But he didn’t because he can’t, and instead of showing him some understanding, you carried your bluff to the end out of pure stubbornness. Now he’s miserable, you’re miserable, and that poor priest is sitting in Glendalough wondering what in blazes happened!”

  “Aud!”

  “Shocked you, have I? Good! I’ve a few more curses up my sleeve, and I’d be happy to use them if it will force some sense into your head.”

  Triona spun back to the window, but Aud kept on, giving vent to emotions long stewing.

  “You’ve allowed five days to go by, Triona O’Toole. Five precious days that you should have spent as the O’Byrne’s wife instead of avoiding him at every turn.”

  “He’s been avoiding me, too,” Triona countered, staring unseeing at the rainwater trickling down the glass.

  “Aye, and how you’ve both managed such a feat while sleeping under the same roof is beyond me!”

  What sleep? Triona thought unhappily. She’d spent more time tossing and twisting than slumbering, her mind replaying over and over the ugly confrontation that had led her to this mess. Yet she wouldn’t have done a thing differently. How could she? All she had to do was remember Caitlin’s wretched sobbing to know that she’d been right to follow her conscience. Now if Ronan would only listen to his…

  “And as for sleeping under the same roof,” Aud’s stern voice broke into her pained musing. “Yours is a vain hope that the O’Byrne’s going to change his mind and let his hostage stay in this room, Triona. You’d do better trying to find a way for the two of you to be sleeping in the same bed again!”

  “Don’t you think I want that?” Triona exclaimed, whirling around. “You make it sound as if I don’t miss having Ronan’s arms around me. Miss his teasing—his kisses, everything! Well I do, more than I can say!”

  Aud sighed, softening her tone. “Then what’s holding you back? You told me yourself that Caitlin even urged you to mend things with the O’Byrne when you went to visit her this morning—”

  “Aye, she did,” Triona murmured, looking away. “Because she’s tenderhearted and as kind as Maire and doesn’t want her unhappiness to be the cause of mine.” Triona met Aud’s eyes. “Can you imagine that? Even after the cruel treatment Caitlin’s received here, she’s concerned for me—for Ronan. For our happiness. But if I told him that, do you think it would make a difference?” Triona shook her head resignedly. “He’d still despise her. He’d still treat her no better than an animal.”

  “That may be so, but you can’t blame him for not being able to see her as more than just a MacMurrough. After so many years of bitterness—and when you think of what happened to Niall—”

  “Aye, Ronan will never be able to see beyond that,” Triona said to herself, thinking aloud. “Unless someone could convince him that no grudge should be held…at least against Caitlin. Someone who might prove a bit more tolerant…a bit more understanding…” Suddenly she swore under her breath, her mind racing.

  “Triona O’Toole, I know that look. What mischief are you scheming now?”

  “No mischief, Aud.” Triona felt like kicking herself as she hurried to throw her cloak around her shoulders. “I’ll need you to accompany me, so be quick and find your cloak.”

  “Accompany you? Oh no. Not until you tell me exactly what you’re up to—”

  “Do you want Ronan and me to be together or not?” Triona broke in impatiently. She knew she’d convinced Aud when her maid dumped what she was sewing on the chair and walked stiffly to the door, her cloak drying near the hearth. “I knew you wouldn’t fail me. I’ll meet you in a moment. I have to grab something first.”

  As Aud muttered under her breath and left the room, Triona went at once to the clothes chest. She flung back the lid with such force that she startled Maeve into jumping under the bed, but Triona didn’t have time now to comfort her cat. She dug deep and pulled out a new gown she’d never worn, a deep blue silk that would look lovely on Caitlin. And they were closer in height and size than Triona was to Maire, so that would offer no problem.

  “Ninny! You should have thought of this solution days ago,” Triona muttered as she stuffed the rolled up gown inside her cloak. The only other item she would need, a comb for Caitlin’s hair, was already over at the grain house. She’d helped her bathe just that morning, not an easy thing to accomplish with the guards insisting that Caitlin’s ankles remain bound. But they’d managed and so they would now, with Aud’s help.

  Triona hastened from the room, pleased to see that her maid was wearing her cloak and waiting by the front door. Conn was there, too, but one gesture from Triona and he headed back to his sleeping place by the hearth, his tail drooping between his legs. But Triona knew that he wouldn’t have liked all the rain anyway.

  “We’ll need our hoods,” she said to Aud, throwing her hood over her hair. “And you mustn’t say a word when we get to the grain house.”

  “The grain house! Triona…”

  “We’re going to visit Caitlin, is all. Aye, and remember to keep your head down when we get there as if you don’t want your face to get wet.” Triona didn’t give Aud a chance to reply but left the house, the downpour so heavy and the clouds so thick and gray that it appeared almost dusk.

  Aye, maybe all this rain had been sent for a good reason after all, though she doubted Ronan and his men would think so. They’d been hard at work for several days now shoring up the massive earthen embankments surrounding the str
onghold that were threatening to become great mountains of mud—which right now was a good thing, too. She didn’t want to be running into Ronan for the next few hours if she was lucky.

  And if she were truly lucky, Triona thought nervously as the grain house came into view, the guards wouldn’t question Aud’s presence. They’d become used to Triona’s visits; Ronan at least hadn’t rescinded the offer he’d made her. But she’d always come alone before.

  “Remember, Aud, let me answer if they say anything to you,” she cautioned as they approached the doors.

  The guards looked perfectly miserable; the three clansmen were drenched despite their heavy cloaks. Triona hoped the rain would work to their favor and prove a distraction. But she groaned to herself when the same burly clansman whose name she’d since learned was Fiach O’Byrne raised his hand for them to stop. He warily eyed Aud’s hooded figure.

  “My maid,” Triona explained before he could ask questions. “Caitlin’s gown has a tear and I brought Aud to mend it.” When the man still looked doubtful, Triona said indignantly, “My skill lies with the bow, not the needle! How else will the gown be fixed if my maid doesn’t do it?”

  “Very well, go ahead,” Fiach muttered, clasping his hand over the wooden hilt of his hunting knife as they passed by him into the building. “But the wench will remain tied during the sewing. You already talked me once into stretching the O’Byrne’s orders so she could bathe, but I’ll not free her hands again.”

  “I wasn’t thinking to ask,” Triona said honestly, for she didn’t have to. She had her dagger with her, safely hidden in the deep pocket of her cloak where she’d been keeping the weapon for that time she might need it.

  There had been occasions enough already when she had been tempted to cut Caitlin’s bonds, the raw redness around her wrists and ankles growing worse by the day, but she’d resisted for fear she might lose her privilege to visit. But today she would take that risk. Grateful when Fiach showed no inclination to follow them, Triona waited for Aud to catch up with her.