Lords of Ireland II

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “So I’m to mend, am I?” Aud hissed when the door was closed with a heavy thud, leaving them in darkness. “With no needles? No thread?”

  “Sshh, Aud, he might hear you,” Triona silenced her as she pushed open the door to Caitlin’s cell.

  “Triona, is that you?”

  Her eyes adjusting to the dim lamplight, Triona pulled Aud along with her. “Aye, Caitlin, and Aud’s with me. She’s going to help us.”

  “Help?”

  Nodding, Triona left Aud’s side to drop to her knees next to the pallet where Caitlin was struggling to sit up. Before the young woman even realized what was happening, her bonds were cut, Triona smiling as she deposited the dagger back into her pocket.

  “There. That should make sitting and standing a bit easier. Walking, too.”

  “Walking?” came Aud’s low exclamation as Caitlin stared at Triona in astonishment.

  “Aye, and we’ve no time to chat about it, either.” Triona rose and helped Caitlin to her feet, then she pulled out the silk garment she’d been clutching under her arm. “Here’s a nice clean gown, Caitlin. After you put it on we’ll run the comb through your hair. I want you to look pretty for—”

  “Triona O’Toole, have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried to take her from the grain house?” Aud said, her expression growing more skeptical by the moment.

  Gesturing for Caitlin to hurry, Triona went back to her maid. “Aud, another outburst and you’re sure to bring the guards down upon us,” she whispered, pleading in her voice. “I think I’ve come upon a way to fix this miserable mess so everyone can be happy, but it won’t work unless you help us. Now I’ll need your cloak.”

  Aud hesitated, her worried eyes searching Triona’s face, then she sighed heavily and wrested the sodden garment from her narrow shoulders.

  “You know I’d do anything to help you, sweeting. I made a vow of it from the time you were a babe, and there’s no sense in stopping now.”

  Triona gave her maid a quick hug, then glanced behind her to find that Caitlin was almost dressed. She waved Aud to the pallet. “You’ll have to lie down, Aud, so I can cover you with the blanket. While we’re gone, just remember to keep your face to the wall like you’re sleeping—aye, and your wrists and ankles close together so the guards have no reason to doubt that you’re tied—”

  “I know, sweeting,” Aud cut her off gently, curling onto her side as Triona spread the blanket over her. “Just make sure that you cover my hair. I’ve no pretty blond tresses like Caitlin’s to fool them.”

  “I never heard any complaints from Taig O’Nolan that your dark hair was any less lovely,” Triona murmured, smiling when she heard Aud’s low chuckle. But she sobered when Caitlin touched her arm.

  “I’m ready.”

  Triona straightened, knowing at once that she’d been right about the blue gown. Caitlin MacMurrough was a vision, her long golden hair combed to a glistening sheen. She was struck by the queer feeling that she might be looking into her own eyes, so closely did Caitlin’s resemble hers, but she shrugged it off, handing her Aud’s cloak.

  “I know you urged me this morning to think of myself instead of worrying so much for you, but I’m determined to have you out of this wretched cell, Caitlin. I’ve thought of a way, too—that is, if you’re willing to trust me—”

  “I trust you.”

  Warmed by those simple words, Triona gave her a reassuring smile. “Then do exactly as I say. Keep the hood low over your face and keep your head down. And say nothing to the guards.” Triona quickly swept up the rumpled gown Caitlin had discarded and stuffed it under Aud’s blanket. “We’ll be back as soon as we can, Aud.”

  “Aye, be careful, girls.”

  Triona and Caitlin slipped from the tiny room, both of them stopping at the outer door.

  “Remember, Caitlin. Keep your head down and say nothing.”

  The young woman nodded and Triona thrust open the door, clearly startling the guards who spun to face them.

  “That didn’t take long,” Fiach noted, rain dripping down his long nose and into his beard.

  “The tear wasn’t as bad as I’d thought,” Triona said with a shrug, hurrying with Caitlin out into the downpour. “We’ll be back in a short while with more blankets. It’s so chilly in that cell, the poor girl might catch her death.”

  Fiach gave an unsympathetic grunt but held his tongue until they’d moved away—but not so far that Triona couldn’t hear him grumbling to the others, “You’d think from all the fuss there was a queen in there and not some stinking MacMurrough.”

  Triona felt Caitlin stiffen beside her; she knew the young woman had heard him, too.

  “I’m sorry,” she began, feeling she must apologize for Fiach. But Caitlin shook her head, meeting Triona’s eyes as they made their way across the muddy yard.

  “To hate my clan is all those men have ever known, Triona. You can’t expect otherwise.”

  Her throat tightening, Triona wondered suddenly if she had made a terrible mistake to bring Caitlin with her but they were already at their destination. Hoping her plan wouldn’t meet the same outcome of five days ago, she held open the door and pushed Caitlin gently inside.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Who lives here, Triona? Is this your house?”

  She didn’t have to reply as Niall’s voice called to them from the other room.

  “If you’ve come to make me another one of your nasty herb brews, man, then turn right around and go back whence you came! It’s bad enough I have to lie here like a log while this damned leg of mine mends without having to down any more of that foul-tasting stuff.”

  “The O’Byrne’s brother?” Caitlin asked incredulously, her wide eyes telling Triona that the young woman had realized it was Niall at once from everything she’d been told about the attack.

  “Aye, Caitlin, but don’t be frightened. Niall’s not at all like Ronan—well, he is but he isn’t. I mean their looks are similar, they’re both terribly handsome, but—”

  “What’s all that whispering out there? Is that the healer or no?”

  “No, Niall, it’s Triona,” she called, giving Caitlin’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

  “Well, come on with you, then. I’ve been wondering when you were going to pay me another visit given all the trouble between you and Ronan.”

  “You see?” Triona hissed, hoping she appeared more confident than she felt at that moment. “He’s in a fine humor, so come on.” Grasping Caitlin’s hand, she began to steer her toward the door.

  “Is that Aud with you? Now this is a pleasant surprise. Mayhap I can hope you brought me a sip of ale, too—”

  “It’s not Aud.” Triona smiled nervously in spite of her best efforts to remain calm. She stepped into the room, drawing a reluctant Caitlin with her. “I’ve someone I want you to meet, Niall…Caitlin MacMurrough. I hope you—”

  “Good God, Triona, have you lost your mind?”

  Why was everyone demanding that of her? she thought, feeling affronted despite her stomach performing an anxious flip-flop at Niall’s outburst. But he didn’t look entirely furious; no, he looked more stunned, which gave her a boost of courage.

  “Not at all, Niall O’Byrne, I’ve my wits about me. But is shouting how you welcome your guests? I remember you once chided Ronan for his lack of hospitality, but I never thought I’d be doing it to you. The least you could allow us is the chance to remove our hoods. They’re dripping wet, you know.”

  Triona didn’t wait for his assent but lowered her sodden hood as Niall gaped at her, Caitlin following her lead. In the next instant Niall wasn’t staring at Triona anymore, but at the beautiful young woman who was standing at her shoulder.

  “Would it pain you too much if we sat down?”

  Silence reigned in the room, Triona’s light query receiving no answer.

  “Niall?”

  He started, to her amazement a flush racing across his handsome features. “I’m sorry, Triona, did y
ou say something?”

  She had to fight hard not to smile, suddenly feeling very much heartened. “Just that we’d like to sit a while and visit…if that’s all right with you.”

  “Of—of course. I mean, I suppose there’s no harm in it, though Ronan might…” Niall shot a glance at Triona, but his eyes almost at once skipped back to Caitlin. “Ronan has no idea that you’re here, does he?”

  “I doubt we’d have made it this long if he did,” Triona said wryly, taking the straight-backed chair at the foot of the bed. The closest one she left for Caitlin who, so far, hadn’t uttered a word though her cheeks were as flushed as Niall’s.

  “Begorra, it’s warm as Hades in here,” Triona continued, hoping to spur some conversation. “Why don’t you take off your cloak, Caitlin?”

  “Aye, that damned healer ordered the hearth be kept roaring at all hours for fear the rains might bring on some fever,” Niall said in a rush of explanation.

  Caitlin gently pushed the cloak from her shoulders. “I hope you don’t catch a fever. That would be terrible after everything you’ve suffered.”

  He stared at her, clearly as stunned by the fetching sight Caitlin made in her snug fitting blue gown as by the lilting sound of her voice. But he couldn’t have looked more shocked when she added sincerely, “I’m sorry for what my clan did to you, Niall O’Byrne. Truly sorry.”

  Triona’s breath jammed as she watched Niall’s face, the momentary tightening of his jaw reminding her ominously of Ronan. Wondering if she’d been too quick to think that her plan was going well, she was relieved when Niall finally murmured, “It was no fault of yours, Caitlin MacMurrough. I accept your apology.”

  Silence fell again for the longest moment, but this time it seemed strained…almost as if Niall felt inhibited talking further with Caitlin in front of Triona. Realizing suddenly that she had become the third wheel on a cart needing only two, Triona rose hastily from her chair.

  “Aye, well, I should see about that cup of ale you’ve been wanting, Niall.”

  “You’re leaving, Triona?” Caitlin asked, half rising herself as if Triona expected her to come, too.

  “No, no, sit,” she insisted, not missing the flicker of pleasure across Caitlin’s face. “I’ll be back soon. Stay and talk with Niall.”

  “Aye, tell me how you managed to elude the guards who’ve been watching you night and day,” Niall said as Triona made her way from the room and closed the door behind her. She leaned upon it for a moment, astounded in the next to actually hear Niall chuckling, Caitlin joining him.

  Triona had herself seen this lighter side of Caitlin, the young woman growing less intimidated over the past days at Triona’s assurances that all would be well. But to hear Caitlin laugh as she must at home in Ferns was a welcome sound, and for that, Triona had Niall to thank. Now if Niall might be able to convince Ronan that their innocent hostage was hardly deserving of the scorn being heaped upon her…

  “Ale,” Triona reminded herself when Niall’s laughter burst through the door, grown teasing this time. She threw her hood over her hair and set off through the rain toward the kitchen, feeling more hopeful than she had in days.

  “Those stout timber posts should hold no matter how heavy the rains, Lord. But we’ll check on them again in the morning just to make certain,” Flann O’Faelin informed Ronan.

  Ronan nodded, though his mind was hardly on timber posts any longer. He parted ways with his drenched, mud-splattered clansmen at the stronghold’s inner gates and strode full face into the stinging rain.

  “You’re not coming with us to the hall, Lord?”

  Ronan gave no answer; the last thing he wanted was to spend another late afternoon and evening downing ale. He was wet and cold and muddy and most of all, sick to death of avoiding the woman he loved. He wanted a hot bath and he wanted Triona, not necessarily in that order.

  And if the only way to have her back with him was to yield to her requests, then aye, he would do it.

  Four restless interminable nights had convinced him that no MacMurrough wench was worth the strife between him and Triona. In a few weeks’ time the damned girl would be gone, maybe even sooner. He could suffer her presence in his home for Triona’s sake, no matter that the thought of catering to a MacMurrough still disgusted him.

  “You men have a new post,” he commanded as he approached the grain house, his three clansmen casting startled looks at each other. “I’m moving the hostage to my dwelling-house. From now on, you will stand guard at the windows outside her room.”

  The men stepped aside as he reached the door, Ronan already imagining the delighted look on Triona’s face when she saw that he had relented. Anticipating as well the feel of her arms around him and the soft grateful kisses he could almost taste, he couldn’t enter the grain house fast enough, shoving open the door to the cell.

  “Get up, girl.”

  He saw her start beneath the blanket, but she made no move to rise which angered him.

  “Didn’t you hear me, wench?” He went to the pallet and bent down to wrest away the blanket. “I said get—”

  “Forgive me, Lord!”

  Astounded, Ronan straightened as Aud threw back the covering and clambered to her feet, her small plain face gone white. But she appeared no more stricken than his three guards as Ronan shot them a glance and then turned back to Aud.

  “I-I’m sure this looks worse to you than it is, Lord—”

  “Where’s Triona taken the hostage?” he demanded. “To our dwelling-house?”

  “I don’t think so,” Aud said in an anxious rush. “She didn’t really say. All she told me was that she’d thought of a way to set everything to rights…a way to bring the both of you back together and—and I could do aught but help her—taking the MacMurrough girl’s place—”

  “Your lady left here no more than an hour past,” broke in Fiach O’Byrne, the brawny clansman’s face red with chagrin. “She said she was coming back in a short while”—his questioning gaze skipped to Aud—“with blankets for the hostage.”

  “Aye, Lord, Triona told me herself that she’d be back for me as soon as she could,” Aud seconded.

  Ronan didn’t stay to hear more, the guards following close behind him as he stormed outside into the rain.

  “Gather more men and search every corner of this place!” he ordered, setting out himself. But he didn’t know where to search first, much of what Aud had said making little sense.

  A way to set things right? A way to bring them together? Yet Triona had planned to come back? Surely if she had left the grain house with the MacMurrough wench posing as Aud, Triona knew she would have to return in the same way to get Aud out again without the guards suspecting…

  “Unless Aud was deceived as well,” Ronan muttered, his gut knotting as his gaze flew to the stronghold gates. All of them had been left open much of the day so his men could come and go while repairing the outer embankments. By God, had Triona taken it in her head to aid the wench in an escape?

  His heart pounding fiercely, Ronan ran toward the stable, his first instinct to check and see if Laeg was gone. But he’d gotten no farther than Niall’s dwelling-house when he spied a hooded figure stepping out of the front door, wooden cup in hand.

  He thought at first it might be the healer until the figure glanced up and saw him, uttering a most femininelike gasp. Before he could call her name, Triona had spun back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

  “By God, woman, if I find…” Ronan didn’t finish, bursting inside to a scene that he’d hardly expected. Triona was standing just beyond the door, her rain-streaked cloak still swirling, her expression the very picture of indignation as she pressed her hand over her heart.

  “Jesu, Mary and Joseph, Ronan, do you have to come upon a person so suddenly? You can’t blame me for being startled and running back inside—”

  “You didn’t duck inside because I startled you, Triona.”

  “Of course I did! And it’s a good thing
this cup was empty or I would have spilled ale all over myself. I was just going to the kitchen to fetch Niall another—”

  “Where is she, Triona?”

  His harsh tone appeared to rattle her, but she stared at him as blankly as a fish.

  “Who? Aud? Why, I left her doing some mending when I came over to visit Niall—”

  “Enough tales, woman! I just found Aud posing as the hostage I’d expected to escort to our dwelling-house. Now where is she?”

  Triona couldn’t have been more stunned, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “Escort to our… You were going to let Caitlin come and stay with us?”

  “Aye, but it seems you got to the grain house before me—”

  Triona didn’t let him finish, flinging her arms around his neck to hug him tight. “Oh, Ronan, I knew you would come around to seeing it my way! I knew you couldn’t be so heartless!”

  He embraced her, too, crushing her slim body against him. But he just as swiftly pushed her away to arm’s length so he could look into her face.

  “Triona, the hostage. You didn’t help her escape, did you?”

  “Caitlin’s in here with me, brother.”

  Now it was Ronan’s turn to look stunned, doubly when Niall’s door was opened by the MacMurrough wench herself. She stared back at him, her eyes wide and apprehensive, her fingers twisting in her blue gown.

  “What in blazes…?”

  “I brought her to meet Niall because I didn’t know what else to do,” came Triona’s hasty explanation. “I thought if he could see that it wasn’t right to hold a grudge against Caitlin—even after what he’s suffered, mayhap he could influence you to think so, too. But I’d planned to have her back at her cell before you and Niall talked, so I ran inside the house to tell Caitlin to hide until you were gone. It never occurred to me that you might have already been to the grain house—”

  “And you would have assisted in this ruse?” Ronan demanded of Niall, who was smiling reassuringly at Caitlin. Noting the heightened color of the young woman’s cheeks and the furtive smile she threw back at Niall, Ronan didn’t need to see more.

  “That will be enough influencing for one day,” he muttered, lunging for Caitlin and catching her by the arm. As she gasped, Niall exploded.