Rose of the Mists

by Parker, Laura

  “Perhaps you overstate the matter, uncle,” Revelin replied mildly. “Sir Sidney fears the queen’s preference for the earl of Ormond, and Thomas is not a strong earl for lack of reason. He will allow Sidney only a small victory before taking the matter to the queen.”

  “Do you believe that? Dupe! Do you know what Sidney has done? He’s dared to cede to Carew a goodly portion of your uncle Edmund’s plowlands in Carlow.”

  Something about the twinkle in Piers’s eyes signaled Revelin that that was not the end of his speech. “And Uncle Edmund—what has he done about the matter?”

  Piers shrugged. “What any man would. We’ve plagued Carew with a bit of reiving.”

  “Hm,” Revelin answered noncommittally. It was a bit of devilry that only an Irishman would have chosen.

  “Carew’s a fool!” Piers claimed. “Carew sent a letter to Sidney complaining of the Butlers’ rebellion against him! Rebellion? Now I ask you, a reasonable man, is the loss of a few cows a rebellion? Did he think we could not have taken Idrone and all within it if we were of a mind? Hah!”

  Revelin laughed, imagining Carew’s consternation. “I do not see the problem. Carew is a sore loser and must learn the ways of the neighborhood. When he comes to view the trading of cattle as an everyday occurrence, he will steal a few of yours and the trade will even out.”

  Piers eyed his nephew speculatively. “I’ve scarcely seen you these years you’ve grown to manhood. I must ask myself if you’re your own man or the earl’s foster son.”

  Revelin met the dark gaze levelly. “Both.”

  “Aye, that’s the spirit. But then are you a Butler first or a fanatic loyalist the likes of Thomas?”

  “Thomas is a Butler, first, last, and foremost; you’ll not say else and remain under this roof.” The speech was said softly and without heat, but Revelin saw Piers’s eyes widen in understanding.

  Piers stroked his beard and nodded. “Good! By God, that’s damned good! Would that my eldest lad had the fire in him that you possess! So, I’ll tell you the truth. And you’ll use it as best benefits the Butlers. Carew is raising an army, though God knows if he understands what it means to raise an army in this country. He’s buying men but the likes of whom you’ve never seen. They’re flocking into County Carlow like so many carrion birds on the scent of a dying cow. English militia we can crush like the rabble they are. But there’s others, lad. He’s offering bounty and sack to Irish and Scottish bonaghts!”

  “Mercenaries,” Revelin murmured. Bonaghts were unlike Turlough’s Scots gallowglass. They were the outcasts of clans both Scots and Irish, men without loyalties or masters and feared by every reasonable nobleman be he Irish or English.

  “I’d not have them on me land,” Piers continued. “No good will come of Carew’s plans, mark my words. So I’ve come here to tell you to warn Thomas of what happens. There may be a confrontation before the summer’s end, and there’s nary a man can tell where it will end.”

  Revelin shook his head. “You can’t seriously be considering fighting Carew. Thomas nearly lost his head for the Battle of Alfane. The queen has forbidden personal battles within her lands.”

  “She hasn’t outlawed protecting a man’s own lands! Edmund has it right when he says the Butlers will fight to the death Carew’s trumped-up pretense to our lands. We’re not advocating the overthrow of the Crown in Ireland. There’s a difference, lad.”

  “And you would have me explain this to Thomas?”

  Piers nodded. “We may have little time before an attack comes. We’ll not provoke, but we’ll run them all the way to Hell once they cross the county line!”

  Revelin rubbed his brow in weariness. “I had not planned to return directly to London.”

  “The lass.”

  Revelin looked up with a brief smile. “Actually, she had caught Sir Sidney’s eye and I’m some disturbed by his intentions.” Piers raised his brows, and Revelin launched into a brief review of Meghan’s history.

  “Shane’s natural daughter!” Piers whistled in appreciation. “Of course, you’ll not hand her over to Sidney.”

  Revelin shrugged, irritated with his inability to act. “I don’t see that I have any alternative, unless I take her to England with me.”

  “You have that right, since you’re the lass’s foster parent.”

  Revelin’s laugh was rueful. “She sleeps in my bed at this very minute.” He looked up suddenly, emotion burning in his eyes. “I love her, Piers. I will wed her when and where I can.”

  “She’s Catholic, lad. You cannot—”

  “You remember,” Revelin said kindly when Piers broke off in mid-sentence, “my mother was Irish and Catholic and your brother married her.”

  “My bastard brother married her,” Piers corrected without heat. Both he and Revelin understood that while the Butlers were Protestant in the main, there had never been any persecution of the Catholics among them. “So, all the more reason to keep her from Sidney’s clutches. Send her to Kilkenny Castle. She’ll be safe enough. Edmund and I have brought our families there, while Thomas prefers the ease of London.”

  Revelin sat up. “I had thought of that before Sir Sidney’s letter arrived. I could leave for London tomorrow if I knew Meghan was safe.”

  “Meghan,” Piers repeated softly. “I once knew a Meghan, hair the color of cornsilk and eyes as deep a green”

  “Black hair and eyes as deep a blue…” Revelin answered dryly.

  Piers chuckled. “So keep her for yourself. But marry? Ah, lad, I cannot counsel you to that. What of your betrothal?”

  “Another reason I’m needed in London,” Revelin replied. “Lady Alison is not one to hold a grudge or to stand in the way of happiness.”

  “Even yours?”

  Revelin shrugged. “She’ll see nothing of me after this. I’m returning to Ireland and here I shall remain.”

  “All the more reason for you to fight for what is ours.” Piers stood. “I’m away. The light of morning is never so lovely within the Pale.”

  Revelin rose with him. “But you’ve not rested.”

  Piers lifted his eyes to the ceiling once more. “Do you offer your bed?”

  “Your horse awaits,” Revelin replied.

  Piers’s laughter shattered the quiet. “Send her to Edmund, lad. His lady wife will know how to deal with her.” He clasped Revelin in a bearlike hug. “Give my best to that damned rascal brother of mine and tell him Butler blood should not be spilt for Devonshire dogs. Ah, and the twins, tell him of the twins!”

  When Piers had ridden out, Revelin returned to his room. Meghan was stretched out on his bed, wide awake.

  “Did we disturb you, lass?” he asked as he walked toward the bed, stripping off his clothes as he went.

  Meghan reached out for him as he cast away the last of his clothing and pulled him down hard against her. “Are ye truly going away from me?”

  Revelin stared at the midnight-dark eyes just inches from his. “How do you know? Did you listen?—but you don’t speak English.”

  “Mrs. Cambra told me,” Meghan answered. “She came in to make me leave yer bed, and when I wouldn’t, she said I would soon enough because ye’re going to London Town.”

  So, the household knew every word they had spoken. Thank the Lord for loyalty.

  Revelin lowered his head onto her breast as his hands found her waist and began a slow, sensual rise toward her breasts. “Aye, lass, I must go away for a little while, but when I return I won’t be leaving you again. So…” And he let his hands and lips continue his thoughts.

  Chapter Fourteen

  London, England: July 1569

  “Damnation! A farthing for Leicester’s head!”

  “Quietly, lad,” Thomas Butler, the earl of Ormond, counseled his foster son. Seated before the fire of his London town-house study, Thomas had been rereading a letter from Dublin. Seeing Revelin’s mood, he folded the letter and pocketed it. “You’ve remembered little of court life if Leicester’s witless
tongue can prick your ire.”

  Revelin snatched his velvet hat from his head and tossed it onto a table by the door. “’Twas more than that. As I sat in the antechamber of Whitehall this afternoon, Leicester came over to tell me how delighted he was to learn that Meghan O’Neill is his father-in-law’s guest at Dublin Castle.”

  An old hand at handling agitated statesmen, Thomas said merely, “I know.”

  Revelin regarded him in surprise. “You know? When did you learn of it? For the last week I’ve thought Meghan safe in Kilkenny. I had left instructions which needed only Uncle Edward’s letter of consent to put into motion.” His green eyes suddenly blazed dark and stormy. “You, you’ve had a hand in this.”

  Thomas shook his head. “The news arrived only after you had left this morning.”

  The anger eased in Revelin’s expression. Thomas was not above countermanding Revelin’s orders, but if he had he would tell him so. “What am I to do? The lass is behind the walls of a fortress. Guest of the lord deputy, indeed! She must be frightened out of her wits. God knows what questions Sir Henry will put to her. She’s not clever in the ordinary sense. She could easily be tricked into saying she’s a spy for O’Neill or a rebel or heaven knows what! Leicester let drop in parting that the lord deputy of Ireland is most concerned about what he called the likelihood of a Butler Rebellion.”

  Thomas stroked his black beard. “A Butler Rebellion! It has a ring to it! Buitiler a buadh!” he cried in his deep voice until the room reverberated with the Butler war chant.

  Revelin collapsed into a chair beside his uncle, straining to keep a smile from his face. “You can jest when the queen herself lends an ear to these lies?”

  Thomas’s dark eyes narrowed on Revelin as he considered his next words. “You are young, Revelin, and your blood stirs easily. When you have my nine and thirty years, you will better understand that often the best reply is none at all.”

  “My years are sufficient to tell me that Leicester goes too far.”

  “He often does,” Thomas remarked evenly. “And, thus, he will one day overreach himself.”

  “Until then are we Butlers to suffer his attacks on our loyalty?”

  “We Butlers!” Thomas smiled. “It warms me to hear my kinsman speak with such fidelity.”

  Revelin’s expression soured further. “You are deliberately turning the conversation.”

  Thomas chuckled. “And you would rather I blacken Leicester’s name with every oath and curse that comes to hand? I am ever mindful of Leicester, but the queen is partial to him at present; and though he does not know it, she will tire of him. When she does, she will look about the court for familiar faces, faces that do not remind her of Leicester. Were I to become his major opponent, she would look on me and, through me, be reminded of him. What a waste of opportunity.”

  Hearing Thomas speak thus, Revelin was tempted, as he often had been these last weeks, to ask his uncle if the story Piers had told him was true. Yet, something held him back. Respect, perhaps, and the desire not to incur his uncle’s wrath. Still, those were not the only reasons. There were things a man kept to himself.

  “Were you called into the queen’s presence today?” Thomas asked.

  Revelin shook his head. “I doubt she remembers I exist.”

  Thomas lazily glanced over his nephew’s elegantly clad body and smiled. “She remembers.” His gaze lingered on the well-developed muscles of Revelin’s thighs until the younger man blushed. “And, lad, she’s partial to a briefer trunk hose in her courtiers.”

  “The devil, uncle! You make me out to be little more than meat on the hoof.”

  “A passable young buck, perhaps,” Thomas agreed with a chuckle. “As to that, where were you last evening? Lady Alison asked about you at the Danver’s musicale. I was forced to invent a lie. I told her you are much enamored of the theater and had gone to sample London’s latest fare.”

  Revelin’s expression did not change but his gaze became unfocused and remote. Alison had been much on his mind of late, and still he had not found the words to break off their engagement.

  “You owe her a better showing while in London,” Thomas remarked. “There’s talk that needs only a wicked tongue’s telling.”

  “Who would dare?” Revelin demanded.

  “Who would not? The lady in question has waited impatiently for her young swain’s return, only for court intrigue and fairy tales to keep him fully occupied. The ladies of the court, jealous creatures that they are, have already begun to worry the notion. Lady Alison was not without admirers while you were away. She kept them at bay with whispers of impending marriage. What say you to that?”

  Revelin’s green eyes twinkled in answer. “I wish Lady Alison and her husband a happy, healthy life.”

  Thomas fingered the missive in his pocket. “You have spoken to her?”

  “No, I have not.” Revelin met his uncle’s gaze. “But I will, and soon. I cannot marry her. I had hoped that this business at court would not drag on, so that…”

  Thomas picked up the dangling thread, “So that you could return to Dublin and your Irish mistress. Lad, you’re a fool if you think that soft thighs and misty eyes are the length and breadth of love.” He smiled paternally. “We Butlers are a lusty lot, ’tis the boon and bane of our menfolk. We make good husbands for docile wives, and our mistresses are all the better for it.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before,” Revelin reminded him.

  “But you were not listening! The lass is in Ireland; leave her there. Lady Alison will not wish to forsake her place at court for the wilds of Ireland. You, on the other hand, have ties that will make frequent trips to Ireland understandable. Two households, two lives. Who’s to care a pig’s fart whether that one houses a wife and the other a mistress?”

  Revelin rubbed the weariness from his eyes with a hand. “You do not understand. She does not understand who or what I am. She loves me and nothing more, not even my name. I feel free when I am in her company.”

  “’Tis a rare luxury,” Thomas agreed. “Keep the lass. Marry Lady Alison.”

  Revelin smiled slightly. “I thought I was old enough to know my own mind.”

  Thomas sat back, not defeat but disgust showing on his handsome face. “I am your foster father, and I will not give my blessing to any match that does not further your career and standing. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Aye,” Revelin answered quietly. So it had come to this.

  “That we may be perfectly clear, I will say this once. If you persist in your contrariness and do not marry where your family wishes, you will be disowned, your ties to Butler lands forfeit. As for the queen’s wrath, you’ll find no help from me there.”

  Revelin had known what Thomas would say, but the words made him shudder inside just the same. “You would like Meghan; she knows many tales of Fionn and the legendary Fianna.”

  Nonplused at last, Thomas merely stared at his nephew.

  “I love her,” Revelin said simply.

  “God’s death! I begin to believe the changeling has bewitched you!”

  Revelin’s expression changed. “From where would you have heard that?”

  Gratified to have pricked his nephew’s composure at last, the earl smiled, touching the letter in his pocket. “So ’tis true, what I’ve heard of the lass. She’s marked, is she not? A disfigurement that any sane man would draw back from. You’ve been tricked, lad. I don’t know by what method, but the lass has captured your mind and will not rest until she has your soul as well!”

  “Sir Richard Atholl has been to see you, the bastard!” Revelin exclaimed in anger.

  Thomas crushed the letter. Atholl was not the only one to plead his case against the O’Neill wench, but Thomas would not play all his cards at once. “Aye. Atholl fears for your sanity, lad, and I thank him for the concern. He believes, as I do, that your passions have blinded your good sense!”

  Revelin rose abruptly. “If you want me gone from your home,
I will leave this very night.”

  Thomas rose more slowly and put a restraining hand on Revelin’s arm. “Lad, see reason. I do not share Atholl’s opinion that the girl has cast some spell on you. I say, have the lass. But is it reasonable that you should throw away any chance for advancement and success because you’ve fallen in love? It speaks of a lack of reason for you not at least to consider the possibility.

  “I need you. You shall become my right hand at court. My brothers, Edmund, Edward, and Piers, are too much like the Irish in their thinking to understand the complexities of my work here in London. But you, Revelin, you can aid me in my struggles at court.”

  Thomas slid his arm about Revelin’s shoulders. “I was young once. I know the pangs of first love, but I was wise enough and strong enough to put those matters in perspective. If she loves you as much as you say, you will find a way to keep her. Tell me, has she declined the position of your mistress?”

  When Revelin shook his head, Thomas’s face split with a smile. “She has not? Lad, what madness drives you? Ask her. If you do not, there are others in Dublin who will. If she is as beautiful as you say, she will have no trouble making her way in the world of men.” Revelin turned on him an incredulous look that Thomas found he could not destroy. If the girl was being unfaithful with his friend Neville, as the letter opined, then Revelin would learn about it soon enough.

  Thomas gazed fondly at his nephew. A first love was the most difficult to lose, but Revelin was young and handsome. He would find others, many of them if the Butler tradition was any indication. “To prove my faith in you, I will write the lord deputy tonight expressing my wish that the lass be sent to my castle in Kilkenny. He’ll have no choice but to send her and she’ll be there waiting when you return to Ireland. In the meantime, you must go to Lady Alison and rebuild the bonds you’ve been so eager to rupture.” He pushed Revelin firmly toward the door. “Go, lad! Now! And kiss her once for me!”