Emerald Prince (26 page)

“Ssh, ssh, ’tis all right,
a rùin
, my love,” Liam talked to her in a soft voice, soothing her. “I won’t let you go, I promise.”

His hands ran down the length of her wet hair, stroking, petting. As the fear subsided, another urgency claimed Alianor. She sought his lips, blindly, hungrily, licking the droplets of water clinging to the corners of his mouth. She kissed him, deeply, emotionally, pretending it need never end. She needed to imagine this as clearly as she felt the consuming fire in her belly, the sweet and pounding urgency of her emotions. Her lips grazed his earlobe, her whisper husky with want. She said simply, “Love me, Liam.”

His grip tightened on her. “You called me Liam,” he said, emotion cracking his voice.

She playfully tugged on the damp ends of his hair. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

He nodded. There was a flash of something in his eyes, a stricken emotion she couldn’t define and was afraid to ask about. The moment passed, and Liam swam with her back to the shoreline, where he lifted her in his arms from the water and waded to shore.

“Aye, I intend to love you, sweet Alianor, so well and so thoroughly, you’ll never forget my name again.”

“Oh, really,” she challenged him, the thought of it making her weak with desire. She framed his face in her hands and kissed him again, his playful growl and her soft laughter echoing across the misty lake as they tumbled together to the deep green grass of the shore.

Liam’s demanding kiss confirmed his intent, his ardent caresses making her shiver with passion again and again. Night fell upon them, like a gentle cloak settling down upon them from the sky. The moon rose and painted their flesh with silvery light as they held one another, stroked one another. The lovers coupled beneath the ancient stars in the ancient place, their urgency driving them in an unknown desperation.

When at last they were sated, Alianor curled by his side, her fingers tracing invisible figures on Liam’s chest. She lay warm and content, despite the cool night, for his arms kept the chill at bay. Hoping he would flash his endearing grin, she drew spirals across his bare skin with her fingertip, but he remained oddly silent.

Assuming he had fallen asleep, she propped herself up on an elbow to study his face. Alianor found his eyes open and staring at the heavens above. He would not look at her.

A premonition of dread swept over her. “What is it?” she whispered. “What is so wrong you will not even look at me?”

He did not answer her, but she knew. Alianor buried her face against his neck, and felt the dampness there. The tears running down his face soon blended with her own. “Tonight’s our last in company,” she murmured in despair.

Neither spoke again. On this, their last night together, their final fierce union was bittersweet, tinged with desperation; each felt unable to face what they knew they must when dawn’s light touched the eastern sky.

I
N EARLY DAWN, SHADOWS
still cloaked the mountains. Alianor and Niall and the rest of the men were already mounted, waiting for Liam to join them.

Garbed in her drabbest gown and wearing one of Liam’s black cloaks, Alianor’s attire reflected her mood. She accepted her fate, but she was not pleased with it. Her future had long since been decided by other players; it was hard not to feel resentment.

It frustrated her she had no choice, no say in her own life. It was not unusual in most women’s experiences, but Alianor did not consider herself to be an ordinary woman. The taste of freedom Walter had permitted her only whetted her appetite for more. Learning, growing, challenging herself seemed a worthy goal, rather than meek acceptance and a plodding life of dreary domesticity. Now, even a drudge’s life seemed preferable to the life she faced with de Lacy. The man must be a villain indeed to have a worse reputation than the King, though she found it difficult to believe anyone was cut of coarser cloth.

Once she had rejected the King, it became clear he wanted her to suffer for her defiance. A good marriage might be regarded as a reward, a sign of royal favor, but this one he intended to be hell. In the King’s eyes,
Le Anguille
was the perfect punishment, a man whose cruelty exceeded his own. Today, she must confront this new villain face-to-face. Oh Nora, be brave, she chided herself, trying not to succumb to fear.

She had the advantage of surprise. De Lacy had no idea of what he was getting himself into when he petitioned for her hand in marriage. He selected her based on appearance alone, a man as shallow as his lusts. No choice had been given to her, but she’d damme well make de Lacy regret his part in this farce.

Liam rode up on Biorra, leading another pack mare with her remaining personal belongings secured in large saddlebags. All but one. Her most precious possession would stay behind.

“Alianor.” Liam halted Biorra beside her mount. His face mirrored the seriousness they both felt. “Are you sure you will not take Goliath?”

She shook her head. “It would be cruel to subject him to more punishing trips. Here he can fly free and be spoiled and cosseted by those he loves best.” At his arched eyebrow, she added, “Aye, he’s taken to you, Liam. Another heart surrendered to your charm.”

He heard the tinge of bitterness in her voice and replied with mock gruffness, “Well, I suppose it’s only fair you give me Goliath’s heart in exchange for stealing Biorra’s and Turrean’s.”

She almost smiled. His attempt to lighten the mood failed. “Alianor …” he began again but seemed not to know what to say. He gestured helplessly.

Still holding onto the anger she mustered moments before, Alianor bristled. “God’s blood,” she snapped, preferring the clean honesty of rage to the tender feelings threatening to break her down. “Let’s not linger overlong. You’ve a task to do today, Liam. You cannot disappoint your people.”

Niall looked surprised at her outburst and Liam looked — no, she must be mistaken — he could not be hurt by her calling a spade a spade. Liam had seen her softer side but by heavens, he was going to see the steely one today. No more tears. No regrets. Their parting would be easier if she did not cling to hope — or him.

His intense green eyes sought hers. “I don’t know if I can do it,” he said, more to himself than anyone. His hands upon the saddle pommel clenched white.

“A little late for regrets, don’t you think? You can and you will do it.” Avoiding his gaze, Alianor refused to give way to the emotion undermining her composure. “My fate was sealed the second you took me. Besides, there’s more to all this than even you know. I’ve something at stake as well.”

Confusion marked Liam’s expression but he stayed silent, still stinging from her words.

“What do you mean, colleen?” Niall asked on his behalf.

“If I don’t marry de Lacy, the King will destroy my brother. So you see, my fate really has precious little to do with either of you. Therefore your consciences need not bother you. If you can wrest good for your people out of my dismal circumstances, by all means, you must do so.”

Neither man moved. A cool breeze rushed through the glade, stirring the trees, and an oak leaf fluttered down and clung to Alianor’s hair. She brushed it off, and drew the hood of her cloak over her head with a swift yanking movement.

She heard a soft whine, and glanced down to see Turrean looking up at her with mournful golden-brown eyes. A faint smile finally touched her lips, but her voice shook when she spoke. “I’m sorry, girl, you can’t come. You must stay here.”

The wolfhound sat on her haunches, her gaze no less plaintive. Liam said sharply to the dog, “Go on, Turrean. Go back.” With a baleful glance at her master, Turrean rose and slunk off. Her lowered head reflected the prevailing mood in the clearing.

“We’ll be late if we continue to dawdle,” Alianor said.

Liam lapsed back into a stricken silence and it was Niall who leaned over from his saddle and handed a blindfold to Alianor. “I’m sorry, milady,” he said. “We cannot let you see the way from the camp. ’Tis our law.”

Alianor nodded. “Thank you for at least trusting me enough to secure it myself, Niall.” She traded the horse’s reins for the blindfold and tied the soft cloth around her head. The men nudged their horses into a canter, and Alianor gripped the saddle pommel to keep her seat.

Damme Liam, she fumed. Why had he said anything?
I don’t know if I can do it.
Part of her felt a surge of joy upon hearing his words — he couldn’t do it, couldn’t hand her over to de Lacy. Yet, part of her was angry, for she couldn’t let him back down. Not when Camber’s life was at stake.

Her throat ached, the emotion caught there threatened to make her choke. Liam wasn’t in the same league as de Lacy and the King. They were the real murderers, cruelty and bloodlust simply part of their natures. While in the end, Liam was finding it difficult to trade her for ransom, even for the sake of his people. He was a tender-hearted, Irish knave.
No wonder she loved him so
.

It was a startling revelation; she
did
love him, with all her heart and soul. Despite this, she knew she must not allow her feelings to cloud her judgment. There would be no point in telling him where her heart lay and she dared not permit these misplaced affections to risk her brother’s life. Simply put, there was too much at stake for Liam and her to love one another. Perhaps in the next life, but in this one at least, it could never be.

F
ROM THE EDGE OF
the woods, Niall eyed the lone horseman awaiting them upon a wind-scoured ridge overlooking the sea. “I don’t like this,” he said, his posture tense, his voice on edge.

“Aye, I’m certain he has men hidden about.” Liam’s gaze flicked across the hilltops, drawn by a silvery glint. Armor. “De Lacy’s as honest as I expected.” He chuckled. “But so are we, eh, uncle?”

Niall did not laugh. His voice was low and urgent. “Liam, I have a bad feeling about this. Let’s leave. Now.”

“Quit stewing, Niall. Our men will guard our backs as they always do. We must take the risk — the ransom is too important.” He looked over his shoulder and gave Torin the signal to position the men along the tree line, keeping to the shadows until needed.

Niall frowned but nodded. Liam understood his uncle’s concerns, but he could do nothing about their predicament. They had come a long way and he’d not change his mind. It was already near evening tide, past the time they had arranged to meet.

“You knew a man like de Lacy would not keep his word about coming alone,” Alianor said, sounding angry. The blindfold had been removed and her blue eyes snapped sparks at Liam.

“I’d be more surprised if he had.”

“You two wait here,” she offered. “I’ll ride up alone and bring back the ransom to you. It’s me he wants. Not you.”

Liam shook his head. “I gave my word to escort you here and turn you over safely, and I’ll keep it.”

“Don’t be a fool, Liam. Is your chivalrous word worth dying over?”

“Don’t be dramatic. You forget I’ve a dozen men at my back.”

“Yes, but what if he has two dozen over those hills?”

“I’d say the odds were still in our favor. We know these woods and he does not.”

“Why can you not be serious about the danger?” she asked, her face showing her frustration and fear.

Liam moved Biorra up beside her and leaned in close so she was the only one to hear him. “I have never been more serious in my life.
You
are my concern, Alianor. You must not do or say anything to give de Lacy the impression I am anybody but the Irish bastard who kidnapped you. I want you to play the outraged, high-born lady who once spit in my face with contempt and disgust.”

“I never meant —”

He interrupted. “He will kill you if he finds out about us, Alianor. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “And do you understand he may kill
you
as well?”

Liam reined Biorra’s head around and urged the gelding on. “Perhaps milady will kindly place a flower upon my grave every so often. Perhaps a little dog-violet,” he called back to her.

He heard Alianor make a frustrated noise, before Niall pulled her along, still leading her horse behind him. Liam did not trust her, suspecting she might ride ahead alone in a ridiculous display of courage. So the reins remained in Niall’s hands.

The fury consuming Alianor did not lessen, not even when the threesome rode from the protection of the forest to meet de Lacy and their fate. The wild ocean surf crashed along the craggy coastline they followed, and a cold wind swept over them, wet and tinged with the salt of the sea. She searched the area, wondering where and how many other men lurked in ambush.

“I was beginning to think you’d lost your nerve,” Quintin de Lacy called out as they reined their respective mounts to a standstill at a point near the cliffs. He rode a sleek dappled gray, his frame appearing too large for the horse. He was not fat but he was a big man, well over six and a half feet and barrel-chested, a testament to his Norman blood. Alianor shivered. She would not be able to fend him off as easily as she had England’s squalid little King.

De Lacy’s light brown hair was neatly barbered like his beard. He was not unattractive but his presence was dark, menacing. He wore a scarlet pelisson with a dagging hem of deep scallops. His cloak was trimmed with dark fur, and gilded crossbands wound up his legs. His ornate girdle was studded with rubies and amber. Numerous rings glinted upon his fingers and thumbs. Alianor was surprised by how pretentious he appeared.

De Lacy did not even greet her, nor ask how she had fared in the hands of supposed vicious brigands. Instead, his cold gray eyes focused on Liam, contempt in their depths. When he spoke his upper lip curled. “Caomhánach.”

“Aye,” Liam said curtly. “As you see, the woman has not been harmed. Now, where is the ransom?”

De Lacy laughed, the mocking sound carrying on the brisk breeze whipping about them. The sun chose to slip behind ominous clouds, a dark omen foreshadowing his words. The sea churned beneath the wind’s plucking fingers, and the fine day turned dark as a storm approached.

“Did you really expect me to hold to a bargain made with a criminal?”