The Faithful Heart

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  THE FAITHFUL HEART

  Sorcha MacMurrough

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Synopsis

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Author's Note

  More Titles by Author

  Tudor Ireland, 1537

  SYNOPSIS

  Who has murdered Morgana Maguire's brother, poisoned her father, and stolen most of her clan's ships? These are just a few of the pressing questions the novice nun must find answers to if she and her one true love Ruairc MacMahon are ever to find happiness in each other's arms.

  Morgana broke off her engagement to the only man she ever loved when her brother was murdered, convinced that her fiance had had betrayed them all. Now, two years later, Ruairc returns to Donegal at the request of Morgana's father, who wants to make peace with them both before he dies.

  In the time that's passed since the murder, Ruairc is the only one who does not appear to have profited from the young man's death in any way. In fact, his life has been a living hell.

  Ruairc has never loved anyone but the fiery young beauty with hair like living flame. Forced to earn his keep after being banished from his clan for a murder he did not commit, Ruairc has had to dance attendance upon the powerful and ambitious English courtiers in Dublin.

  Ruairc is overjoyed to be summoned back to the Maguire lands to be with Morgana again, despite the nest of murdeous interigue he is walking right back into. He would brave the gates of Hell itself if it meant winning Morgana for his wife at last. If only he could convince her he loves her for herself alone, not her title, lands or wealth.

  Despite her suspicions, Morgana bonds with Ruairc as her most trusted ally and lover too, the only anchor in her swirling world. As their enemies surround him and brother fights brother for clan supremacy, the sensual couple can barely keep their heads above water as the shifting quicksands of loyalty and allegiance threaten to drag them under.

  Only Morgana's greatest ship, The Faithful Heart, stands between the Maguire and MacMahon clans and the destruction of their entire region at the hands of the fanatical, power-hungry traitors in their midsts.

  Embroiled in the web of Tudor power politics and Reformation during the reign of Henry VIII and his new queen Anne Boleyn, and caught up in the rebellion of the great Irish leader Silken Thomas, Morgana and Ruairc must fight not only to win each other's love, but to protect all of Ireland from civil war and foreign invasion.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sorcha MacMurrough is a multi-published author from Ireland who has taught English literature and English and Irish history. She has lived all over the UK and Ireland, including London, Edinburgh, and Dublin. Her favorite cities to live in or visit are Bath and York. She loves old houses, castles and estates and can usually be found touring these locales to help make all of her settings come alive for her readers. Sorcha loves the Regency period and the Napoleonic era in particular, which form the beginning of the modern world as we know it.

  Her novels have been chosen as monthly "Top Picks" by Romantic Times, and she has also been nominated for a Reviewer's Choice award for best novel of the year by Romantic Times. When she is not writing, researching and teaching, she cooks, knits Aran sweaters, and enjoys spending time with her large family. She loves Irish dancing and music, and beachcombing on the shores of Donegal, Sligo and Galway.

  THE FAITHFUL HEART

  Sorcha MacMurrough

  Herstory Books

  Copyright the author 2008

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  Under the 1988 UK copyright laws, the author asserts the right to be identified as the creator of this work.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-58345-023-9

  Published by HerStory Books

  http://www.herstorybooks.com

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  Irish Pronunciation Guide

  Ruairc=Rourke

  Ma Niadh=Monea

  Niamh=KNEE-eve or NEE-you (Donegal dialect)

  Tiarnach=TEER-nach

  Lough=lock

  All the locations in the novel are genuine and English spelling has been adopted to avoid confusion

  For example Dublin's Celtic name is Baile Atha Cliath and Galway's is Gaillimh.

  CHAPTER ONE

  As novice Sister Attracta, formerly Morgana Maguire, laboured on her knees digging in the still partly frozen soil, a shadow fell over her prostrate form. The new scent she breathed in had naught to do with the garden.

  Morgana shuddered with cold and fear, and slowly rose to face her visitor. She hoped her face would appear a mask of indifference, though inside her heart hammered against her ribs painfully and her tongue felt withered and sere.

  "Well, Ruairc MacMahon, state your business, and leave. I have work to do here, as you can see," Morgana declared flatly.

  As the silence stretched, Morgana's violet eyes finally rose to met Ruairc's emerald green ones. She blushed furiously at the openly speculative appraisal that she saw there. Like he's trying to strip me naked , she thought resentfully, seeing the painfully familiar flame of passion in his eyes.

  The passage of two years hadn't diminished him in any way that she could see. Certainly not in height. Ruairc towered over her, so with a proud lift of her chin, Morgana met his gaze head-on, refusing to be cowed by him as she had once been, long ago, in her other life.

  "No word of welcome for me then, my dear? I am one of your oldest friends, after all, and the man you were once betrothed to."

  "You and I have nothing to say to one another, Ruairc, especially not after all this time. So if you're trying to cause trouble, or make me change my mind about taking my vows soon..."

  "As if I could ever make you change your mind about anything!" Ruairc snapped.

  Then he took a deep, steadying breath, shook his head, and tried once
more. "No, Morgana, I'm not here to beg and plead with you to see my way, to trust me, for the words would only fall on deaf ears as they did two years ago, and I have a strong objection to making a fool of myself twice."

  Morgana turned her back on him, and started to gather up her tools. "Really, I have no intention of standing here listening to this...."

  "Morgana, for pity's sake, just stop a minute, and hear what I have to say," Ruairc insisted, as he wrestled with her for possession of the spade.

  She raised her hands, surrendering the tool to him rather than become any further embroiled. He was just too near....

  "All right, I'll give you one minute, and then I'm going inside. What can your aunt be thinking of, allowing you to come here like this!"

  "Morgana, I've come here to give you a choice, to come home with me now, or remain here forever locked inside this cloister."

  "Why should I go home, Ruairc?" Morgana argued as she bent to resume her work, this time with her hoe. "There is much to do here, and this is the fate I chose for myself. How dare you question my decision."

  She caught sight of one of the older nuns eyeing her with a frown. Morgana knew that due to the late spring they were well behind on their planting already, without her wasting her time going over ancient history with her worst enemy.

  "This is the life I've chosen. I'll thank you to leave me be so I can get on with my work." She began to hoe as though her life depended on it. Which it did, since almost everything they had at the convent they supplied for themselves.

  "Why shouldn't you come to see your family and friends?" he argued in what for any other person would seem a reasonable manner. "I'd be happy to act as your escort."

  She was instantly wary of his switch from lover-like to ogical manner. "I wouldn't set foot outside--"

  "You're still only a novice. You can come home any time you like. All the people from the castle and village send their love, and ..."

  She threw down the hoe. "Stop it! Don't you dare say another word. I know what you're trying to do, my lord McMahon, and it won't work, do you hear!" Morgana hissed in a low tone, trying to avoid making a scene.

  He quirked one brow at her. "What exactly are you accusing me of, Morgana?"

  She glared at him, feeling like a mouse being toyed with by a very smug tabby. "You know all too well. You're trying to charm me, trying to convince me that black is white with that glib tongue of yours."

  "I'm sorry you feel—"

  "Sorry? You dare say that to me? Apologize to my father—"

  He reached out one hand to stay her furious digging. "Morgana, please, it's about him I've come to speak."

  She recoiled from his touch as though struck by a serpent."

  "Don't you dare! It's all in the past. I've left my old life behind through my own free will, and there's no point in looking back."

  He paced up and down in front of her, desperately trying to resist the urge to kiss her until her ramrod stiff back arched her lithe body into his to mold them together as the lovers and soul mates his heart told him they truly were, even if his rational mind warned him that she would never believe in his innocence no matter what proofs he offered her, such was her sense of loss and betrayal over the death of her brother.

  At length he managed to say in an even tone, "But Morgana, don't you see, we need to resolve the past if either of us is ever to move on into some sort of future."

  "To what avail? Dredging up my brother's murder, which is all I can think of whenever I see you, Ruairc, can't change anything that happened. I want to leave it all behind, don't you see? I don't want to be cursed with remembering!"

  He sighed and shook his head."My dear, I know it was painful at the end, but was it really such a curse?" he asked gently. "I remember so much joy too."

  She stabbed at the ground with her hoe as though trying to rip the recollections from her mind. "Nay, any joy there might have been was all a lie. Ours was a dynastic match—"

  "Never on my side! And I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me it was on yours."

  She stiffened, but kept her eyes firmly on her task."It matters not, Ruairc. It's all in the past. This serves no purpose, my lord. My future is as a nun here at this convent. In less than a fortnight I am to take my final vows. So your trick hasn't worked. Nothing you can say will seduce me back into your arms. Spare yourself the time and breath, and just leave now."

  Morgana lifted her head to look at Ruairc squarely as she finished her impassioned speech. But even as she was demanding that he go, she inhaled the musky maleness of him, and her stomach began to turn somersaults. She struggled frantically to subdue the longing she felt every time he was near. Despite her brave words, she ached for one of his masterful kisses to overpower her more rational self.

  Almost as if sensing her inner thoughts, Ruairc moved closer to her. Morgana stepped back hastily to avoid any physical contact. She tripped over her rake and would have been sent sprawling had Ruairc not caught her.

  He pulled her close, and then smoothed down the white novice's habit in a soothing gesture.

  "Morgana, my love, I know you think you have just cause to hate me, but I swear by the holy ground of this convent, I have never done harm to you or your family."

  She struggled at that, but he held onto her firmly. "And I also swear on my aunt's life, a thaisce, I have not come here to fight with you, or trick you in any way. I've come to tell you that your father isn't at all well, and will not rest until you come to see him."

  Morgana sagged against Ruairc, taking comfort from the strength and the warmth which emanated from his huge frame. He had called her ‘treasure’, just as he had always done. It had been her brother Conor’s pet name for her, and reminded her powerfully ofall the wonderful times they had shared together

  But far too many suspicions still lurked in the back of her mind for her to surrender to his embraces. The caresses of a killer….

  She also realized the two of them were in full view of the entire convent as the nuns headed out of the cloister and into the church for prayers. She couldn’t be allowed to be seen in any man’s arms!

  "I c-c-can't leave," she stammered, pulling away. "My duty, my vows. I must...."

  "I've spoken to my aunt already. She has released you for as long as you need to be away. I know you are supposed to take your vows in a fortnight's time. She's explained all that.

  "But she pointed out that even if you miss the bishop this time, there will be other times for him to accept you into the Church. There may not ever be another chance to see your father again," Ruairc added.

  He saw Morgana stiffen visibly as she digested the import of his words in stunned silence.

  He knew Morgana so well, and yet she could be such a stranger, Ruairc reflected, as he gazed at her lovely face under its coif, and longed to see the vibrant auburn hair concealed underneath.

  A stray curl peeped out, and he tucked it behind her ear, and said in a softer tone, "Morgana, I know how difficult this is for you, especially since you and your father have had so many differences in the past.

  "But the truth is, he has been ill for some time. Though he has done his best to rally, I fear the worst. The whole family has been sent for, and I have been charged to bring you home safely to Lisleavan with all possible haste."

  Morgana gasped as his warm fingers caressed her cheek. She slapped his hand away and gave an arrogant toss of her head. "And why, if this were true, would he send you of all people to fetch me, Ruairc? My father must know you're the last person I would ever trust, or would ever wish to see again, even if he could bring himself to trust you again, which I very much doubt."

  Ruairc's emerald green eyes glittered coldly, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. "I don't know the exact circumstances of the illness, for I have been in service in Dublin these past two years. I was only summoned to Lisleavan a week ago," he temporised, not sure how much of the truth he ought to reveal to her at this point.

  "Your father summo
ned me to make amends before he goes to meet his Maker. He's sorry for the wrong he did me by suspecting me of his heir's murder. We have made our peace with one another, Morgana. He sent me because he trusts me, and he knows that no matter what you think may have happened in the past, I have always held you in the highest esteem and loved you most purely.

  "Please, Morgana, you know this to be true. I would never let any harm come to you," Ruairc asserted. "Please, my sweet, no matter what you think I may or may not have done in the past, surely you know in your heart I would never willingly cause you injury if I could possibly help it, let alone do it with the kind of cold-blooded calculation it took to murder your brother."