THE IRISH KNIGHT

by Amy J. Fetzer

  "A message to England takes mayhap three or four days by sea," Sinead said softly, then lifted her gaze to his. "And if you know where to deliver it." She let that color the air for a bit, then added, "What if those orders have come within the shores of Ireland?"

  "From whom those order were issued is a very long list, my lady," Galeron put in. "He knows he will incur the king's wrath, and the justiciars's, Pipard and William La Petit, if he starts a war."

  "They are Prince John's appointments," Connal said, looking at Sinead for agreement. "Westberry is not. King Richard personally sent orders of instruction. I lay witness to it, years past." And the king's rage, he added silently. "Yet, if the marshal is following orders, then Sinead is right, 'tis from inside Ireland that they have come. I believe that Westberry is certain Prince John will show him favor."

  "Will he?" Monroe asked, glancing between Sinead and Connal.

  Connal shrugged. "The law can be skirted only so far afore even a prince is called into question. 'Tis why Richard wished to gain DeCourcy and William DeLacy's oaths on parchment."

  "DeCourcy has been given ten cantreds in Connaught," Sinead said quietly.

  Connal's brows shot up. "Athlone Covderg has allowed this peaceably?"

  Her mouth curled in a small smile. "As much as would allow without war, aye. They recognize him as King of Connacht."

  Connal sat back and mulled this over. It put DeCourcy in great power and in the favor of an Irish king and his armies. If Prince John wanted to crush it, he'd have to take the throne first. He wondered how informed the earls here were of John's intentions.

  "Prince John will not be pleased that DeCourcy has so many land titles." Galeron voiced Connal's very thoughts. "Nor that he's in allegiance with an Irish king."

  "DeCourcy has more than that, now," Sinead said. "He has the favor of the Irish for his fairness. Aye, he has waned on the Irish." Her gaze flashed to Connal's. For at least one battle, he'd been in that army. "But he has not been one to destroy people, only castles. Pipard shows no favor when he is in a battling mood."

  Connal wished he knew more of what had transpired here in the last years and decided that he and Sinead would have to talk more.

  "My father signed the oath, as did yours,." Sinead said. "I suggest you get the remaining documents completed. 'Twill be a strength John would not dare ignore."

  And one, he thought, that put all their lives in danger. "We must leave soon then," Connal said, not mentioning that their marriage was conditional on those oaths.

  Sinead nodded and looked down, a sensation of dread suddenly peeling through her blood, her heart. It made her breath catch and abruptly she stood. The knights jumped to their feet, waiting. She waved them back into their seats and excused herself, moving away.

  Connal moved toward her, whispering her name.

  "I will see to the stores, that you have enough food to last you to the next castle."

  "Sinead, look at me." She did, and the worry in her eyes was unmistakable. "I can delay a bit longer."

  Her chin lifted a telling notch. "I do not need you to remain, PenDragon. I have been here alone for some time, and will be again."

  She shuts the door still, he thought. "By damn, you are too independent."

  Her brow lifted smoothly. "For a woman, but not a man?"

  His gaze moved over her, leaving a heated trail that swept her breathless. "You are definitely not a man."

  Her features sharpened, her beautiful eyes cool. "I must be."

  She turned to the staircase and Connal followed, stopping her. On the step above him, she looked him in the eye, frowning. His green eyes were dark and sparkling with heat, with the emotions she'd only glimpsed.

  "You do not have to play the role of man any longer, Sinead."

  Ah, a male has arrived, all is well, she thought bitterly. Did he think because he wore chauses instead of a gown that that made a difference? He still thinks English. "'Tis no role, PenDragon, but my duty, and I am quite comfortable with it." Her brows knitted softly. "You desire only the body, and you let it cloud your thinking."

  He reared back a bit.

  "You think I am blind to it? I do not fear it or you, but neither do I want your attention. For 'tis base."

  He was not insulted, for 'twas a truth he could not deny. "And 'tis natural. You are—"

  "I know what I am!" she snapped and instantly wondered why she had. "'Tis in you I have my gravest of doubts."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "You are an Irishman, a prince"—his lips tightened at that—"but you see a woman and think, 'She belongs to me because the king has spoken,' that she is weaker and cannot possibly know how to rule because Englishwomen do not." She arched a brow, waiting for him to deny it. He remained silent. "My duty is the same as yours and stronger for the disparagement of my gender."

  "I will give you that clearly. But I've the king's orders to follow. And I am here to help, Sinead. Help."

  He was here for King Richard and if not for the order, would never have returned. She would not be blinded by her attraction, disrupting as it was.

  "Consider this," she sighed tiredly, glancing off at nothing, "when meeting those you grew up with on the field of battle, those who'd once vowed to follow you as their leader." She met his gaze. "Whose sword will you hold?"

  "That is unfair."

  "Really? Then do not question my motives. Ireland has my protection and my heart, PenDragon. Yours is cut in two. Choose."

  "I cannot!" he growled softly.

  "Then do not tell me I should bow to your direction. I know not where your loyalties lay."

  With that she turned and ascended the stairs to her chamber.

  Connal rubbed his hands over his face, then kicked at the basket sitting near the staircase. Servants scattered; conversation between knights ceased.

  "Connal?" Galeron said.

  "What!"

  "Your conversations with the lady haven't improved, I noticed."

  "She's stubborn and determined not to take my help."

  "Why should she?"

  Connal's gaze snapped to the Englishman's.

  Galeron shrugged. "She has been a success without you. Why should she change that? And do not say because the king has ordered a marriage, for that means little."

  Connal straightened and folded his arm over his chest, waiting for Galeron to finish. The man was never short for words or advice.

  "King Richard does not care who rules as long as there is peace. But what do you offer, aside from more knights and vassals?"

  Connal's features tightened. 'Twas the reason he was here, to gain a piece of Ireland for himself. "I am not a poor man, Galeron. If only I can help with that. But we are to wed and she will have to concede." Eventually.

  "To you?" Galeron shook his head. "What experience, my lord, do you have in ruling several clans and leagues of land?"

  Connal's gaze thinned. Galeron simply stared back, sans the smile this time.

  "My father came to Scotland to wed the chieftain's daughter," Galeron said. "Unknowing that she was the chieftain and her clan was not willing to give the power to an Englishman, no matter who ordered. So he compromised. She was laird; he was her second."

  Connal scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I bet that was interesting to witness."

  "I wasn't born, so you see my handicap in that, but my uncles tell a grand story of the arguments my parents had, and solving them was usually in the laird's chamber." Galeron wiggled his brows playfully, and a smile twitched at Connal's lips. "Life changed for both of them."

  "Sinead is not willing to compromise atall, Galeron. Her answer is always nay." Nay, Ireland does not need you nor I, nor anyone. She spoke the hated words with every fiber she possessed, as if she was keeping a wolf from the door, and to give an inch would destroy her.

  Then Galeron tipped from the waist to lean close and say, "Mayhaps, my lord, you are not asking the right questions," and Connal realized he wasn't. He'd seen only duty.
Only his plan. And while that sounded amiable whilst he was traveling here, after meeting Sinead again, after hearing her insults and slurs and feeling the constant wall she mortared between them, Connal understood there was more to the root of her discontent with him than his attire and his duties as a knight Unfortunately there was little time to resolve it, for they would leave in the morning.

  * * *

  Sinead woke in the center of the night, when the castle was still and only the occasional footsteps of a guard, the groan of a weary maid, or the jangle of a vigilant knight's spur penetrated the silence.

  Yet in her chamber she gasped for her next breath, the scream, thankfully, dying before she woke the castle folk. She rolled to her side, squeezing her pillow to her breasts and sinking her face into the down.

  Goddess, release me from these dreams.

  Again, Connal had bled and died. And once more there was something just out of her reach, hidden within the mystery of the dream. It was too real, too poignant a bruise to her soul to ignore. She could smell his blood, almost taste it. Since Connal had set foot in Ireland, it became clearer, almost pungent, and each morning she tried to counsel herself out of her fears. But they'd laid to rest in her heart and there was no escaping them.

  She flopped back on the bedding, kicking off the coverlet. After a moment she left the bed, reaching for her robe. Her decision was firm and necessary. If she wanted to find peace, she had to protect Connal. Even if he did not want it.

  Truly, she reasoned, she had no choice.

  * * *

  Connal did not want to leave. He feared for Sinead's safety and those of this castle. The villages. Westberry, and whoever he aligned himself with, was not to be trusted. His conscience needled him to remain; his duty bade him leave now and get the matter done. The sooner he did the king's bidding, the sooner he could solve the problems between himself and Sinead.

  Dawn fought the night and her victory spread deep purple light over the bailey. In the saddle he yanked on his gloves, frowning when a young squire pulled Sinead's horse from the stall. The animal's back was laden with leather satchels and a blanket. She had reins this time, he realized, then scowled.

  He was about to order the lad to take the mount back into the stable when Sinead walked out of the castle proper, fitted for the journey, her cloak swirling about her feet.

  "Nay, Sinead. Go back inside. You are not joining me."

  She spared him a glance as she mounted her mare. "I do not need your permission, and truly PenDragon, you must stop being so tyrannical, 'tis growing tiresome."

  He sputtered with outrage, Galeron choked on his own laughter, and she waited patiently till he was done, then said, "You seek the clan laird's alliance, the MacGuinness? The O'Toole?"

  "Aye."

  "Then you need me."

  "I can manage fine."

  She gave him a patient look laced with the undercurrent of barely checked civility. "Aye, that I've no doubt; however, think on it, PenDragon. I am trusted. You are not. You seek to travel on my lands, without papers or introduction. You seek to tend all the way to King Rory's side, when you warred on him years afore and killed his brothers, his clansmen. Memories are long when it comes to remembering the dead. Who do you think will be most welcome?"

  "She does have you there, Connal."

  Connal ignored Galeron. His grin was a little too wide. "What do you think I will do? Ride in and slaughter first, speak of alliance later?"

  "What I think matters little. What is and will be is the concern. I am coming along. However, for the sake of your dealings, I will be silent."

  His bark of laughter cut through the early dawn.

  Her lips tightened as she waited till he was done laughing, then said, "When you are speaking terms to the Irish lairds I will neither agree nor disagree. Until you solicit my opinion."

  He eyed her. This was a blessing in deep disguise, he thought, his distrust wallowing with his need to have it. "You swear?"

  She waved her hand, the motion sparkling the air with a faint banner of blue before she laid her hand over her heart. "So I say, so mote it be." Her fingers wiggled where they were over her breast, and he knew she could not break the oath.

  He let out a long-suffering breath and nodded.

  Galeron inched his mount closer and said, "That did not leave a mark, did it, my lord?"

  Galeron's goading glanced off his back.

  As Sinead whispered to her horse, the creature bobbed its head as if answering, yet something else caught Connal's attention. He rode forward and reached to grip the mare's big head. "Oh, for pity's sake, Sinead." His gaze shot to hers. "This beast is blind!"

  "Aye. What of it?"

  "Great Gods, woman." He inched closer. "'Tis dangerous to ride a blind horse!"

  She tipped her chin. "Genevieve can sense what needs to be seen, and sees a sight better than you, I'd wager. I will not waylay the trip."

  "See that you don't."

  Arrogant pisspot, Sinead thought.

  Moments later, Monroe and a dozen retainers rode up beside her. Their packs were laden with stores, and one man pulled a half wagon of more.

  Connal merely arched a brow at the captain.

  "Don' want anyone thinkin' you've got her against her will, do we now, m'lord?"

  "That, Monroe, is not possible."

  Sinead exchanged a glance with Monroe, the captain's regard for her intense with a look Connal did not understand. Sinead lowered her gaze suddenly, and something close to shame swept across her features. His gaze jerked to the captain, but as he'd experienced in the past days, Sinead had more than his loyalty, she had his love, too. They rode.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  Connal felt her riding closer before he realized she was alongside him. Her presence in the contingent of knights and vassals was like a bright light, a red-haired sparkle amid weapons and armor. She hadn't spoken to him since they'd left the castle, and though he unwillingly admitted he welcomed the conversation, being at the point was dangerous to her. "Get behind me, Sinead."

  She scoffed. "I am not the one who needs protection, knight. 'Tis still my land we travel upon."

  He sighed tiredly. "Must you argue with me at every turn?"

  "When you refuse to see reason, aye."

  Behind him Galeron cleared his throat to hide his laughter. "Me thinks the lady enjoys it, m'lord."

  Connal glanced at Galeron. The man had spent the better part of the past two days flirting with her, and Connal admitted that her response to the other man was irritating. She laughed with the English knight, smiled at the man when all she bestowed on Connal was a penetrating look. As if she was seeking something that was not there. Or another opportunity to call him traitor, he decided, his ire pricked. He wished Raymond had signed the marriage contracts, for it would at least give him some power over the woman when he felt annoyingly helpless.

  "The lady enjoys my misery."

  She looked insulted at that. "I do not."

  "Then go home."

  She smiled slyly. "I am home, PenDragon. 'Tis you who are not—"

  He put up a hand. "Spare me the cuts, Sinead."

  "'Tis the truth."

  "In your eyes."

  "You wish to marry me, PenDragon; whose eyes should see you worthy but mine?" she mapped, and turned her mount back into the contingent, settling herself at Monroe's side.

  "Good God, man, stuck your foot into that again," Galeron said as he moved closer to Connal.

  Nahjar glanced at the sky in avoidance.

  "What, no sage wisdom, Nahjar? You were full of advice in the castle."

  "Which you chose to ignore. And I have seen you make no effort to woo the lady, Sajin. What is the difference with this woman? For I have seen females defy their fathers for you."

  The words, though casually spoken, unearthed a buried agony in Connal's heart. His expression sharpened with pain, and he looked ahead. The silence was prickled with the clop o
f hooves, the jangle of bridles.

  "Forgive me, Sajin," Nahjar said softly, bowing in the saddle.

  Connal waved it off yet could not banish the images filling his mind. The heartless death, the blame laid at his feet. It reminded him that he brought destruction when he gave his heart and would not relinquish even a portion of it again. But with Sinead, the fates were toying with him, taunting him with each nuance of her, drawing him with more than the lust and want of a man too long without a woman. But if he gave, she would be destroyed, as his love had killed before.

  "She is the one I must take to wife. Love and sweet words have little to do with it. She is mine regardless." He heeled his mount and lurched a few yards ahead.

  Galeron scowled at his back, then glanced at Sinead. She'd heard. He could see it on her face, in her eyes gone dark with hurt. Galeron rode to catch up with his friend.

  Sinead watched Connal ride the point, then looked to the trees, seeking anything to keep her mind from her troubles. Why should she be hurt? Had she not just told him that he did not belong here anymore? She should not expect a concession from him at all. But the feelings in her heart defied her brain. She was here to protect him, to keep him safe and alive when she knew he would die. The long-dead emotions she'd had as a child, the sensation of matching souls when she'd first laid eyes on him, were simply the fantasies of a girl. She'd managed all these years not to think of him, not to want what was not meant to be. But being near him was growing increasingly harder and she dreaded the night when the dreams would come and the heart she shielded so diligently would break.

  Suddenly she stiffened in the saddle, looking to the trees. Ahead Connal did the same, his hand closing over his sword. Sinead rode to the head of the line and up beside Connal.