Dark of the Moon (34 page)

These words, uttered in a fervent tone by Mickeen, assailed Caitlyn's ears before she was well outside the stable. Her attention caught, she stopped to listen, stepping to the side just beyond the open door so that she was out of Connor's view, should he chance to look. Even standing as she was beneath the protecting eaves, fine particles of moisture showered her, but she pulled her hood over her head, wrapped her cloak around herself, and ignored the rain as she listened shamelessly.

"What are you talking about, Mickeen?"

" 'Tis a payment to the treasury from the Blaskets! 'Tis coming overland to Dublin, and it should pass through Naas this very night! 'Tis a great secret, but I know a lad who knows a lad whose brother ferried a Sassenach gent and his supposed family from the islands to the mainland in his curragh before dawn three moms ago. He was not supposed to look inside the party's bags, but he did because the bloody things were so unaccountable heavy they nigh swamped him. 'Twas not a lady's wardrobe as he had thought that was weighing him down so!

'Twas trunks of gold—a fortune, he said! 'Tis said that the government hopes to avoid the possibility of robbery by moving the shipment in great secret, without any fanfare, you know, as if 'twere just a gent and his wife going on a little trip! There are to be no outriders at all, says the lad I know."

"They left the Blaskets at dawn three days ago?" Connor was frowning, deep in thought.

"Aye. And the lad I know says he understood that they would be putting up at an inn in Naas tonight. The way I figure it, they should be coming into Naas just after midnight, or thereabouts."

"Naas is a good bit away from here."

"Aye."

Connor was silent for a moment, thinking, while Mickeen watched him eagerly. A grin began to play about the corners of Connor's mouth. "How very interesting, to be sure!"

Mickeen grinned back at him. "Aye, I thought you'd think so."

Caitlyn could stay silent no longer. Shaking her hood back, she emerged from her hiding place to stand with hands on hips as she eyed Connor sternly. "And just what do you think you're about?"

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. Mickeen gave her a disgusted glare.

"You were sent to the house." The charming man who had patted her rear had disappeared. She knew this Connor too. He was formidable, but she did not fear him. Not in the least!

"Aye, but I did not go. Pray tell me just what is so interesting about a shipment of gold?"

" 'Tis nothing to do with you. Go change your shoes."

She frowned at him. " I won't be sent away like a child, Connor. You mean to ride after that gold, don't you?"

"Hush, now!" This was Mickeen, looking around in alarm. Fortunately, except for the three of them, the stable and yard were deserted.

"And if I do?"

"Then I want to go too!"

"Don't be daft." His brusque response halted her in her tracks. She glared at him, arms crossing over her chest.

"If we're to be wed, then we're to be partners. I go where you go."

"The hell you do!"

"I want to go, Connor!"

"No! And there's an end to it! I'll not discuss it further." He came toward her as he spoke, catching her arm and turning her about. "Now go up to the house and change your shoes. I'll see you at supper. Surely you can find something to keep yourself occupied until then!"

"Women's work?" Caitlyn sneered at him over her shoulder. "You'll not fob me off with that! I can help

you—"

"Damn it to hell and back!" Connor roared in a voice that made Caitlyn jump. "I'll have none of your talk of helping! Whatever I choose to do or not to do, you'll stay at home where you belong! Is that quite clear?" His hand on her arm tightened angrily before releasing its grip.

"No, it is not!" Caitlyn said, turning on him so swiftly that her skirts belled out around her.

"If you think that just because we're to be wed I'll dance to your tune, think again, Connor d'Arcy!"

"You'll do as I bid you!"

"I'll not!"

"You will!"

"Not! And you can't make me!"

"Oh, can't I, now? We'll see about that, my lass!"

"What are you going to do, beat me?" It was an effective taunt, because she knew he'd never harm her. They were standing nose to nose now, shouting, just inside the stable. The drizzle blew in to shower Caitlyn with every gust of wind. Their noise attracted Cormac and Rory, who had been busy in the sheep barn. The two younger d'Arcys saw what was happening and came slogging across the muddy yard, grinning as they watched the battling pair.

"So much for wedded bliss," Cormac muttered to Rory, but Connor heard and turned on him.

"You keep your tongue between your teeth! And you"— he turned back to Caitlyn—"will do as you're bid! I'll not have a headstrong, hoydenish lass to wife!"

"Oh, will you not? Then perhaps you'll not have me to wife!"

"Perhaps I won't!"

"Take your bloody ring back then and be damned to you!" Angered past the point of reason, Caitlyn yanked the ring from her finger and hurled it at him. He caught it before it could hit his face, dark angry blood rising in his cheekbones as he glared at her. She turned on her heel and stalked from the stable, jerking the hood of her cloak over her head to keep out the worst of the rain as she went.

"Now that we're no longer affianced, I'll do as I bloody well please!" she hissed over her shoulder in parting. Then she stomped off toward the house.

"You'll watch your mouth, is what you'll do! I'll not have any wife of mine swearing like a bloody dragoon!" Connor came after her, unmindful of the rain, rage blazing in his eyes.

Catching a glimpse of him over her shoulder, Caitlyn began to run, lifting her skirts with a muttered oath to keep them out of the slippery mud. He ran after her, reaching her before she made it halfway to the house and scooping her up in his arms.

"Let me go!" she screeched, beating at him with her fists.

"Not in this life," he said through his teeth and carried her into the house.

Left behind in the shelter of the stable, Cormac and Rory exchanged knowing glances.

Then Mickeen came up to them, and the three lowered their heads as he told them about the gold.

Don't you ever throw your ring at me again, or I'll blister your backside until you can't sit down!""

He had carried her into the house, past a scandalized Mrs. McFee, who was just on her way out the door, and up the stairs into Caitlyn's chamber, where he sat her on the edge of the bed.

Leaning over her, he kept a hard grip on each of her arms as he growled the words into her face.

"Don't you dare threaten me!"

"I'll do more than threaten if you don't behave yourself!"

"You can't make me stay home while you go off adventuring! I want to come with you!"

Connor made a hissing sound through his teeth. He leaned over her until his face was scant inches from hers. "Listen, you little idiot, there's no 'adventuring' to what I do! There's danger!

You could get killed! Faith, any of us could get killed! Remember when Rory was shot? Another couple of inches in either direction and he would have died. I don't like being shot at, I don't like my brothers being shot at, and I'm damned well not going to have you being shot at!

Understand?"

"If there's that much danger, then you have no business riding about the countryside robbing people! I don't want you to be killed either!"

"There are people depending upon me. I can't just quit, IVe been doing it too long, I have obligations. I—"

"Then you can simply take me with you!" "I'll tie you and leave you in the barn first!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me!"

She glared at him. He glared back at her just as fiercely. Neither gave an inch. After a moment his eyes narrowed and his grip on her arms eased. When he spoke again, his tone was almost coaxing: " 'Twould please me greatly if you would give up this idea of riding with the Dark Horseman, puss. The thought of you dodging bullets or swinging from a noose scares the hell out of me. If I'm scared, I'm not concentrating, and if I'm not concentrating, I could get killed. Do you want to be responsible for that?"

Caitlyn's eyes widened. He looked perfectly serious, but there was something . . .

"Oh, no, you'll not get around me that way, Connor d'Arcy! You've no more need to worry about me than about Rory or Cormac or Liam. I can help you, I tell you! Mine would be another pair of eyes to watch, another horse to carry things—"

"Another body to hang or shoot!" he finished for her grimly. "I've said my last word on the subject, Caitlyn. I'm perfectly willing to be an indulgent husband—indeed, you'll probably be twisting me around your little finger before a twelve-month has passed—but I mean to be obeyed on this: when we ride out, you will stay at home. Is that understood?"

"No," she muttered, still rebellious but suddenly tired of fighting with him. Arguing with Connor was basically a waste of breath, she had learned. He would shout and growl and threaten, and she would shout back just as furiously, and neither one of them would budge an inch. They would end up exhausted, and exactly of the same mind they had been when the argument started. It was better, far better, to skirt the issue rather than battle over it with him, she decided. With her decision came a measure of calm.

"Could I have my ring back now, please?" she asked meekly. He straightened, scowling down at her as she looked limpidly up at him.

"What plot are you hatching to plague me with now?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded her with suspicion.

"I simply want my ring back. Unless you meant it when you said you wouldn't have a headstrong, hoydenish lass to wife?"

"I meant it." He eyed her grimly. "I mean to break you of both traits if it kills the pair of us!"

"Oh, do you, now?" Nettled, she found herself in danger of forgetting her newfound resolve not to argue with him. Biting her tongue to keep from saying more, she eyed him in turn. He smiled at her sardonically and turned on his heel.

"Where are you going?" She jumped up and tried to follow him as he walked through the door of her room to the hall outside, only to find her door being pulled shut in her face. Taken by surprise, she blinked at the closing door for the instant he took to close and lock it. When she saw that the key was missing from her side of the door, and heard the ominous click of a lock shooting home, she felt fury rise like a red fog before her eyes.

"You open this door! Don't you dare lock me in my room like a child!" She pounded on the door with her fist for emphasis.

His voice came from the other side of the wooden panel. From the sound of it, she could tell he was grinning.

"There's more than one way to skin a cat, my own. Do you think I can't tell when you're plotting mischief? You'll stay locked in your room, safe and sound and cozy, until I get back. If I were you, I'd go to bed."

"Connor d'Arcy, if you dare to do this, I'll never forgive you! I'll hate you for the rest of my life! I'll . . ." She faltered as she heard him walk away and start down the steps.

"Damn it, you let me out of here this moment!" she shrieked, pounding on the door.

"Connor, if you don't let me out, I'll make you sorry! I'll . . . I'll . . ." She couldn't think of anything dire enough. Glaring at the closed panel, she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.

She would kill him for this! How dared he treat her in such a high-handed fashion! She would show him that she was not so easily dealt with!

The problem was, there was no way out of her chamber except through the door, and the door was securely locked. The small room had an equally small window that not even she could get through. Screaming for help would be useless; with Mrs. McFee gone home, the only ones to hear would be Mickeen and the d'Arcys. And they would probably split their sides with laughter listening to her cries.

She stalked over to the bed and sank down upon the edge of it. There had to be some way to free herself from her prison. There had to be. Quite aside from the fact that she wanted to ride with Connor, he could not be allowed to treat her so cavalierly and get away with it. It did not bode well for their married life.

After ruminating for a few minutes, Caitlyn came to the inescapable conclusion that the door was indeed the only way out of her chamber. It was locked, and Connor, the swine, had the key tucked safely in his pocket. In order to escape, she was going to have to get through that door. Frowning, she crossed to the panel, tested it. It was solid oak. A grown man couldn't break through that portal, much less her slender self. Growling under her breath, she kicked it.

The faint tinkle of metal on metal came to her ears.

Eyes widening, she dropped to her knees to press her eye to the keyhole. What she saw there brought a grin to her face. Connor d'Arcy, the swine, was going to get his comeuppance yet! He'd left the key in the lock.

It was on the wrong side, true, but that shouldn't present an insurmountable difficulty if she was careful. Sinking back on her heels, she pondered the best way to accomplish her objective.

It could be done, she was sure— if she was careful.

She got up and crossed to the bed, removing the slip from her pillow. Then she went back to the door, knelt, and slid the slip under the door until just a corner remained on her side.

Carefully she positioned it so that it was directly under the doorknob.

Next she needed something that would fit through the keyhole. Something hard, which would neither bend nor break. There was an ivory scratching stick on her dressing table that she had found in the attic and liked for its intricate carving. Connor had told her that it had probably belonged to his mother, who had worn elaborate powdered coiffures in the days before her marriage, when she had been at Court. If it was narrow enough to fit through the opening, and if the ivory was not too brittle, the stick just might work.

Fetching it, she knelt before the door again and carefully inserted the stick in the hole. It took considerable maneuvering, but at last she managed to dislodge the key. It teetered for a moment, then fell to the floor on the other side of the door with a muffled plop. From the sound of it, Caitlyn was sure it had landed on the pillow slip. Grinning widely at her success and the thought of Connor's face when he should set eyes on her and realize that she had managed to defeat him, she pulled the slip toward her. For a moment she feared that the key might be too thick to slide easily under the door and held her breath, but it came through with no mishaps.