They had been close friends ever since she’d returned from fostering. Years ago, they’d made a bargain. She’d chosen a potential wife for him, and he’d set his sights upon Liam MacEgan for her own husband. Neither of them had wed, in the end. After the battle, he couldn’t consider taking a wife until he’d found someone to look after Sosanna.
She hadn’t conceived her child during the Norman invasion. No, this babe was from last winter, long after they’d suffered defeat. And from her refusal to speak, he could only imagine that it must be one of the Normans living among them. It infuriated him that, for the past few moons, she’d had to look upon the bastard’s face every day.
But who was it?
She wouldn’t answer. And so, he was left with no choice but to get rid of every Norman. It wouldn’t be easy. King Patrick MacEgan had wed one of them. AndCríost, but the chieftain of the Ó Phelans would be wanting vengeance after what the lady Isabel had done to him.
He drew his horse up to the gates of the ringfort and waited. He scented the acrid smoke of cooking fires, mingled with the animals. It took moments for the Ó Phelan men to sight him, and one loosed an arrow. Ruarc raised his shield, catching the shaft in the wood. Though he suspected the shot was a warning, he wouldn’t put it past them to kill him where he stood. He prayed that this visit would work to his advantage and not become his death.
Raising his palm and shield, he rode in the midst of his enemy. A few of the men drew their weapons, but Ruarc kept his gaze fixed upon the chieftain’s dwelling. He kept his purpose firmly in his mind, ignoring the insults.
A man’s fist swung toward him, but Ruarc caught the wrist. He tightened his grip, and stared at the man. “I could break your wrist and then you’d not be able to hold a weapon again.” The man paled and withdrew his hand. Ruarc raised his voice. “I’ve come to speak with your chieftain Donal Ó Phelan.”
Moments later, the door to a large thatched stone hut opened. The chieftain wore a blue cloak to conceal his injury. Black eyes bore into him with distaste. “What do you want?”
“I have a proposition for you. I’ll discuss it with you in private.”
“You’ll present it here or not at all. I’m sure your offer holds interest for many of my people.”
So be it. Ruarc regarded the chieftain. “I want my cousin removed from power. The Normans have infiltrated ourrath, and we haven’t the forces to drive them out. I’ve come to ask for your help.”
“And make you the new king, is that it?”
Ruarc said nothing. He did want the kingship. It could have been his, but for Patrick’s greater skill with a sword. Ever since his cousin’s crowning, he had increased his own training. He didn’t like being second best.
But at least he understood loyalty to the tribe. He’d never have accepted such a coward’s bargain, wedding a Norman. “If I become King of Laochre, I can grant you lands to the west.”
The chieftain’s eyes grew cunning as he considered the offer. “Come inside, then. I may be able to help you.”
Isabelawoke,notknowingwhere she was. She squinted at the morning sunlight and something soft tickled her nose.
A gray and white cat padded across her torso, eyeing her as if wondering how a human had come to occupy her bed. Isabel ruffled the cat’s head, and the feline pushed into Isabel’s palm, purring lightly. A moment later, the cat deposited herself on Isabel’s lap, cleaning herself with her tongue.
Isabel eased the cat off and rose from the bed, stretching. She didn’t remember Patrick coming back inside the room. It had been a long time since she’d had a proper bed, and for the first time in many nights, she’d slept well.
A blue length of cloth rested atop a chair. Isabel walked closer and saw that it was a new gown, the color of a midnight sky. When she touched it, the softness of the finely woven linen was a stark contrast to the coarse brown wool she now wore. With long voluminous sleeves and a skirt that hung to her calves, theléinewas similar to her former kirtles. An emerald overdress lay beneath it.
She couldn’t stop the smile of thankfulness. Though she expected her dowry and her clothing to arrive at any moment now, no longer did she have to dress like a slave.
Turning to the cat, she inquired, “What do you think? Should I burn the old gown?”
The feline flicked her tail in the air and sniffed before curling up on the pillow for a nap.
“You’re right. I should wait until I know if the new gown is truly mine.” But the desire to be rid of the coarse brownléineovercame any hesitation she might have felt. She stripped off the garment and then her ragged shift. Naked, she pulled the midnight blue gown over her body. The linen clung to her skin, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the luxury. The overdress took some arranging without a girdle to hold it in place.
Before she had finished, a knock sounded upon the door. “Enter,” she said.
Her husband walked inside, dressed in more common attire this day. It did not diminish the strength and power of his presence. He’d tied his black hair back with a leather thong, and it emphasized the deep planes of his face. Her attention was drawn to his mouth, and she remembered the way he’d once kissed her.
Right now he was looking at her as though he’d never seen her before. Had she put the gown on wrong? She fumbled with the overdress, wondering how it was supposed to hang.
“Theléinelooks well on you,” Patrick said. He closed the door and bolted it.
“I’m grateful for it.” Isabel ventured a smile, but he did not return it. After last night, she didn’t know what else to say. He’d touched her the way a husband would and had left her wanting. But now, he behaved as if nothing had happened.
“Why did you bring me to your chamber last night?” she asked.
He crossed the room to stand before her. “I didn’t want you causing any more trouble. And as I’ve said, I intend to keep you here for the next day. You won’t leave this room.”
