Besieged

by Bertrice Small

  He laughed, suddenly seeing what had so fascinated his young brother. "Aye," he agreed, "we would do just that, Lady Fortune Lindley. We might keep you though, for I have heard it said there is Irish in you. Is it true then?"

  "Aye. My great-grandmother was born Skye O'Malley. She was the O'Malley of Innisfana, and a great woman. She died when I was just thirteen, but I knew her well, and shall never forget her," Fortune told him, and tears sprang into her eyes. "She was always so good to me."

  The sky had clouded over as they rode, and now a heavy mist of rain began to fall.

  "Let's shelter in that ruin," he said, pointing.

  When they had gained the haven of the gray stone and dismounted, Fortune asked him, "What is this place?"

  He shook his head. "I cannot say for certain, but they say it was once the hall of a Maguire chieftain several hundred years back. See how thick the moss is upon the walls? This archway, however, should keep us from the worst of it. Sit down, Fortune Lindley, while we wait." He plunked himself upon a shelf of stone that formed a natural bench, and patted the place by his side.

  Joining him she said, "May I ask you an honest question, Kieran Devers?" And when he nodded in the affirmative she continued on, "Why have you given up your birthright over a matter as simple as religion? You do not seem to me to be a fanatic like so many others."

  " 'Tis a fair question," he replied, "and I will try to explain. You are correct in that I am not a fanatic, and to be most candid religion means very little to me. I'm neither martyr nor saint, but the Catholic faith is all I have left of my mother. She died when I was just a little boy. We were an Irish family then, Moire, Da, and me. Then wee Colleen was born, and our mam lost her life giving our sister life. Da was devastated at first. But he soon began to cast his eye about for another wife to raise his children, and run his house. His other needs he had already taken care of, you see, by a discreet lady named Molly, who has had two daughters by my father. They are called Maeve and Aine, good girls both," he smiled.

  "You know them?" Fortune was surprised, considering Lady Jane.

  "Aye, although my stepmother is not aware that I do. Maeve was born when I was eleven, and Aine when I was fourteen. Da was wed already to his Lady Jane. A merchant's pretty heiress with firm ideas about everything."

  "They say she wouldn't have him until he became a Protestant," Fortune remarked. "They say she made him be baptized again."

  " 'Tis true," Kieran told her. "Jane Elliot fell in love with Mallow Court the first time she saw it. She wanted it badly, but she is as firm in her faith as she is self-willed. She insisted Da convert. The local priest in Lisnaskea came, and warned my father he would burn in hell if he did any such thing so, of course, he did. Da and I are alike in that we don't like being told what to do. He was baptized again as were Moire and Colleen. My father sent the priest packing in retaliation for his threats."

  "Why weren't you baptized again?" she asked him.

  "They couldn't catch me," Kieran said with a mischievous grin. "Everything changed when Lady Jane came into the house. My mother's things disappeared one by one. My mother's faith was erased from our lives. It was as if Jane sought to obliterate my mother entirely, or so I thought. When I grew up I realized it really wasn't that at all. My stepmother is a decent woman, but she lives by her own set of manners and mores, and she expects all her family to live by them, too.

  "So even though I was not baptized again, she decided to be patient with me. I was forced to attend church each Sunday, and on other specified days, with the rest of my family. She thought once I was comfortable with her faith, I would acquiesce to her wishes. It was years before they discovered that after I had been to church with them, I would slip off to attend the mass wherever it was being held that day.

  "On the day I turned twenty-one, I was told I must either be baptized a Protestant, or Da would disinherit me and Willy would become his heir. I would inherit a younger son's allowance, and I could make my home at Mallow Court, but I would lose the heir's portion of the Devers estate. I tried to explain to my father how I felt. Do you know what he said to me? That he could not even remember my mother's face now. That Jane was his wife, and he would have her content. It was then I told him to give Mallow Court to Willy. I did not want it."

  "Did you not allow your pride to overrule your common sense?" Fortune wondered aloud. "I do not think your father was being callous when he said he could not recall your mother's visage. It is difficult to remember those who have died after a time. There is no fault in it."

  "The truth is," Kieran Devers said, "that I have no passion for Mallow Court. I know I should, but I do not. It has never really felt like mine, nor has my native land felt like a place I should be. I cannot explain it, but I believe my true home is somewhere else."

  Fortune stared open-mouthed at him in surprise. "You too?" was all she said.

  "But surely you have had a place you love, that is home to you," he replied.

  "I was born here at Maguire's Ford," Fortune began, "but I was taken to England when I was just a few weeks old. I have lived at my great-grandmam's house, Queen's Malvern. I have lived in France at Mama's chateau, Belle Fleurs. I have lived in Scotland at Papa's castle, Glenkirk, and at my own father's seat, Cadby, in Oxfordshire, but never, Kieran Devers, have I ever felt truly at home anywhere, though I will admit to loving Queen's Malvern best. There is no place I believe where I really belong. I was hoping Ireland would be that place."

  "But it is not," he said.

  "Nay, it is not," she admitted. "It would appear that you and I are two lost souls, Kieran Devers."

  He looked at her, seeing her really for the first time. She was quite beautiful, but she had a second beauty that shone from within as well. Her green-blue eyes were warm and sympathetic. Her smile was sweet. It was a strange contrast, considering her blunt speech.

  "The rain has stopped," Fortune said. "My parents will wonder where I have gotten to, Kieran Devers. Will you ride with me again?"

  "Tomorrow?" he asked her softly.

  She nodded. "Aye, tomorrow, in the morning."

  He led her horse from the shelter, and, cupping his hands together, he helped her to vault into her saddle. When she was firmly seated he took her gloved hand and kissed it. "Tomorrow, Fortune Lindley," he told her. Then he gave her gelding a gentle swat on its rump, and the beast moved off. He watched her go, curious to see if she would look back at him, and when she did he grinned broadly.

  Fortune blushed to the roots of her fiery head. The devil! she thought. He was waiting for me to do that, and knows women well indeed that he waited. Boldly she turned about, and stuck her tongue out at him before kicking Thunder into a gallop. She could hear his laughter on the wind, and chuckled. They were surely well matched, she considered.

  Then the verity of the thought struck her. They were well matched. Or were they? her practical nature asserted itself. What did she really know about him? The fact that they had been able to hold a pleasant conversation was encouraging. At least Kieran Devers was no dunce like his younger brother, Will. Still, Kieran was the first man in all her life who had ever held her interest long enough that she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Had she at last met a man she could love? Only time would tell, Fortune thought. Only time would tell.

  Chapter 5

  “We were beginning to worry, poppet," the duchess said as her daughter entered the hall, handing her cape and gloves to a servant.

  "I was out riding, and met Kieran Devers. We had to find shelter from the rain, Mama. He will be coming in the morning to ride with me. He really isn't so bad a fellow when you get to know him a bit.

  "I knew it!" James Leslie said with a grin.

  "Knew what?" his wife asked, curious.

  "I knew it was Kieran Devers who intrigued Fortune. Tall, dark Celts are far more interesting than civilized Anglo-Irish mama's boys," he chuckled, and then he gave his daughter's cheek a loving pat. "Be careful, poppet. This one's a rea
l man, and, I suspect, unlike any ye hae met before."

  "Papa! I am not intrigued by Kieran Devers at all," Fortune protested. "But who else is there for me here at Maguire's Ford? It will be nice to have someone to ride with, and better an attractive man than my mother or father."

  "Madame, you hae best speak wi yer daughter," the duke warned his wife. "I dinna want to embarrass her by sending a groom along to chaperone her. I'll nae hae that handsome young devil tampering wi our Fortune, Jasmine."

  "Am I such a fool then that I could be seduced, Papa?" Fortune demanded of him angrily. "You think because I am a virgin that I am totally ignorant of what transpires between men and women, but I am not. How could I be, living in your household? And let us not forget the winter I spent with my sister, India, when she was enceinte with my nephew, Rowan. Do you think all we did was sit and sigh over lost love, tell stories, and sew infant's garments? While Diarmid courted India's Meggie in our sight? Really, Papa!"

  "Fortune, " Jasmine cautioned her daughter warningly, but James Leslie was already laughing at his stepdaughter's outburst.

  "She's right, darling Jasmine," he said. "Fortune's too old for me to be treating her like a green fifteen year old. She's not our headstrong India, running off, jumping from the frying pan into the kettle. Fortune is our practical child. She will behave wisely."

  "I most assuredly will," Fortune huffed. But she couldn't wait to see her chamber, and talk with Rois who, while she might be reticent to chatter for fear of her grandmother, Bride Duffy, could, when coaxed, Fortune had discovered, divulge all manner of local gossip. So she waited patiently through the rest of the day and into the evening as if her life was as it had always been, and it was. Yet it wasn't.

  ***

  An old-fashioned bard, one of the few left in Ireland, had asked for hospitality from Erne Rock that evening. It had been graciously granted. Now the bard, full of good food and drink, sat before the fire and began to strum upon his small harp. He sang of battles and heroes unknown to the duke and duchess of Glenkirk. He sang his ballads in the ancient Irish. James Leslie could understand a few words, but the Scots Gaelic was somewhat different from the Irish Gaelic tongue. Rory Maguire, seated at the high board with them, translated, his rich musical voice making the stories come alive.

  When the bard had finished, James Leslie invited him to remain for as long as it pleased him, and sleep in the Great Hall. "We are not a large castle, Connor McMor, but you are more than welcome."

  The bard tilted his head in thanks.

  "If I am to ride early, I should retire now," Fortune said. She arose from the high board, and curtsied to the three adults. Then she hurried off.

  "Make certain you see Kieran Devers in the morning before my daughter does," the duke of Glenkirk said to Rory. "And advise him that Fortune is nae to be touched, unless, of course, he seeks a short life. He is welcome to ride wi her, and pursue a friendship if that pleases them both, but I brought Fortune to Ulster a virgin. I would return her home in the same condition. She must yet find a husband to suit her. You will see he understands?"

  "Aye, my lord, I will," Rory said. "Kieran Devers is a decent man. I should trust him with my own daughter if I had one, but I will nonetheless deliver your message."

  Standing outside the Great Hall Fortune heard them, and smiled to herself. Her stepfather was really so sweet and protective, even if his diligence was misplaced. He should have been as strict with India, Fortune chuckled. She jumped, startled, as Rory Maguire appeared before her, his gaze amused.

  "Eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves," he teased her.

  "If I am to have Maguire's Ford as a dowry," Fortune reminded him, "you will be in my employ, Rory."

  " 'Tis not certain now you will get Maguire's Ford," he replied. "That was supposed to be if you chose young William Devers for a husband. You have turned him away. There is none other in the area that should suit as well as he. Yer not the lady of Erne Rock yet, but I promise when I speak with Kieran on the morrow, I shall not embarrass you."

  "Why does everyone feel they need to protect me?" Fortune grumbled. "I'm almost twenty, and no bairn."

  He chuckled. "What a mixture you are," he told her. "The Celt and the Mughal warring with the proper English in you. Go find yer bed, not that you will sleep. I recognize the look in yer eye. Yer mother had that same look many years ago when she thought of yer da."

  "I think I love you, Rory Maguire," Fortune said, and kissed his cheek. "Go gently on poor Kieran. I've only just begun to play with him. I may discover I don't like him after all, but until I make my own decision, I don't want him frightened off."

  He bowed smartly to her. "As you wish, m'lady," he said.

  With a girlish giggle Fortune hurried up the staircase to her chamber. Rois, dozing by the fire, awoke as she entered the room. "I want a bath," Fortune announced. "I'll be riding early with Kieran Devers, and I want to know everything you know, Rois Duffy!"

  Rois arose from her chair. "Let's get you bathed first, my lady." She hauled an oaken tub from a cupboard, and going to the door of the chamber opened it, calling down the stairs, "Water for my lady's tub at once, please."

  Almost immediately the young male servants began arriving with steaming buckets. Adali knew the habits of the women of the household quite well. The tub was filled, and the serving men were gone. Rois helped Fortune disrobe, pinning her hair atop her head. Naked, the girl stepped into the water, and sat down with a sigh of pleasure. She scrubbed herself quickly as Rois put her clothing away, brushing the dust of the day from it first, and cleaning her boots. Then the serving maid brought out a clean, lace-trimmed night garment for her mistress.

  Clean, Fortune stepped from the tub into the embrace of a towel heated by the fire. Rois rubbed her dry, and slipped the nightgown over her mistress's head, tying the ribbons that held the neckline closed. Then seating Fortune she unpinned her long red hair and brushed it vigorously one hundred strokes before braiding it into a single plait. When she had tucked her mistress into her bed, and drawn the curtains about it, she called for the tub's removal. The serving men came, and lifting the small tub to the open window upended it, pouring the dirty water into the lake itself. They then stored the tub back in its small compartment, and departed a final time.

  "Open the curtain now, and sit by me while we talk," Fortune commanded her servant. "Tell me all the gossip about Kieran Devers that you have heard. Hold nothing back! I know about his early years, for he told me so himself this afternoon. Has he a mistress? Does he like the ladies? You hear everything, Rois, and I want to know."

  "The lasses like him, aye," Rois began. "He comes from Lisnaskea now and again to visit two here at Maguire's Ford. They are not the kind of girls a man weds, but good girls nonetheless. The gossip is that he is a vigorous lover. Ohh, my lady, I should not be speaking to you of such things, and us both maids yet!"

  "I want to know!" Fortune insisted.

  "They say he is a kind man with a good heart. One of the women was with child, not his, mind you, and she grew ill. He paid for the physician to come and tend to her, and when the child was born saw she had coin enough to keep her through the winter so she wouldn't have to work, and could regain her health again. The girl was a Protestant too, my lady."

  "But no permanent mistress?"

  "None that I have heard of," Rois said.

  "No bastards?"

  "None claimed, none named," Rois replied. "He seems to enjoy a good tumble, but he is not wanton, my lady. He simply has the needs of an ordinary gentleman. After all, he is his father's son."

  "And he has courted no lady?"

  "It is said he feels he has nothing to offer a woman, being disinherited, my lady," Rois said. "A gentleman of his station likes to be able to offer a woman a home. He is not willing to bring a wife to his father's house as he is no longer his father's heir. 'Tis all I know, my lady. There is really little gossip regarding Kieran Devers."

  "Nothing bad," Fortune mused aloud
to herself. "Pull out your trundle, Rois. I want to be up with the sun to ride."

  Rois did as she was bid, making certain the fire had enough peat to keep it burning through the night, washing herself in a small basin, and disrobing to her chemise. Lying down she was quickly asleep. She had left the bed curtains open for Fortune preferred it that way.

  Above in her bed Fortune did not sleep at first. The moon shone through her windows, silvery as it reflected itself in the lough. Kieran Devers was a handsome man with his black hair, and his dark green eyes. He was tall and lean, although Fortune suspected that beneath his doublet his body was hard and well made. He enjoyed women, but was not loose in his behavior. He had a strong will. A very defined sense of right and wrong. He was, to her mind, an ordinary man very much like James Leslie. Why was it then that she was so fascinated by him? What was it about him that made him different from any other man she had ever met?

  In a few weeks she would be twenty years old. She had been pursued and courted since she was fifteen, when her breasts had suddenly become obvious. Boys she had known in Scotland and England could scarce keep their hands to themselves, and swore undying love. She had laughed at them all. After all they had played barefoot, ridden, and hunted together since they were bairns. She just didn't see them as husbands. Even though they were all now grown, her childhood companions were friends, not prospective lovers. She couldn't take them seriously, and sent them all packing.