Ormond’s eyes widened. “You have already wed my sister?”
And Liam grinned. “Aye. But for reasons politic, we have kept it a secret.”
Ormond grunted. His eyes gleamed. “Yes, of course. Iwill keep your secret too, O’Neill.” Then he smiled. “But do not think, now that you are my brother-in-law, that aught is changed. You are exempt no more than any other man from my determination to protect the queen.”
Liam inclined his head. “Honor suits some men well.”
Ormond started. “You have just flattered me?”
But before Liam could reply—had he wanted to—the babe began to squall.
Instantly both Liam and Ormond turned to stare at the crying infant. The wet nurse turned aside, putting the child to her breast, hushing him. Liam and Ormond looked at one another, their gazes locking. “Your son,” Ormond said, a small quaver in his tone. Then, “My mother’s grandson.”
“Your nephew, Ormond,” Liam said calmly.
Color flushed the man’s cheeks. “Do not think to weaken me with these family ties!”
Liam laughed. “I would not dream of it,” he said. He saluted the Irish earl. “My lord, I am sure Katherine will be overjoyed to receive this gift from you. On her behalf, I thank you.”
But Ormond did not seem to hear, for he was staring at the suckling child.
Kylemore Forest
Gerald FitzGerald’s progress from Dublin Castle was triumphant. Swarms of Irishmen flocked to his side as he journeyed, cheering him mightily, both kern and lords alike, and by the time Gerald had reached the great forest which stretched for miles into the Galtee and Ballyhoura mountains, he was surrounded by hundreds of joyous followers. He stood in his stirrups then, clad now in the clothing of a Gaelic chieftain, preparing to speak. In great expectation, the crowd hushed.
Katherine sat her mount beside Eleanor, her heart pounding with happiness, tears in her eyes. She and Eleanor exchanged warm glances, then clasped hands. Gerald began by lifting his arms high in the air.
“My people,” he cried, a pale, wraithlike figure, “I have returned. The earl of Desmond has returned.”
Cheers erupted, filling the glen, echoing.
“Never again will Desmond be taken from you,” Gerald promised, while the roars of his men drowned out his voice. When they had quieted he cried, “Never again will Englishmen dare to chase you into the forests and bogs, across mountain and glen! The earl of Desmond protects what is his! For Desmond, hurrah!”
Katherine froze, dropping Eleanor’s hands. She could not believe that her father would speak so defiantly of the Crown’s authority—that he would dare to pick up exactly where he had left off eight years before. Beside her, Eleanor had turned pale, as disbelieving as she.
But the lords and gallowglass, peasants and kern were screaming now, wildly, enthusiastically, waving spears and daggers, waving pennants and flags.
“Never again!” Gerald roared. “There is no prince here, no queen, no God, there is no ruler here but the earl of Desmond!”
Pandemonium erupted in the glen.
And Gerald beamed, standing in his stirrups, and his eyes glittered feverishly.
Katherine stared out of the window of her old bedchamber across the rushing waters of the river below Askeaton Castle, which was perched on a small island. On the opposite bank she could just make out the bell tower of the abbey where her mother was buried. Lush green meadows surrounded it, and beyond stretched dark forests of elm, oak, and pine. Katherine was as familiar with the view as she was with the reflection of her own face in a looking glass. How good it was finally to be home.
But it was not enough. Askeaton would never be enough for her, not anymore.
Liam. How she loved him. How she missed him. How she missed him and their son. How irrelevant all of the past now seemed. Where was Liam now? Hadn’t he said that he would return for her—with their child?
He had delivered FitzMaurice. Her father was restoredto Desmond. What was keeping him—why hadn’t he come?
And was it truly possible? Had he abducted her so many years ago purposefully? Had he known of her existence even then, when she had not known him at all?
“Katherine?”
Startled, she turned to face her father, who had come into her room without knocking. Her smile of greeting died, because he looked so somber, and that was a rarity since his return to Ireland. “Father? Is something amiss?”
“You have a visitor,” Gerald said.
