Wild Roses (29 page)

Not certain, Ronan sighed heavily in answer, hoping
another day wouldn't be spent in playing cat and mouse with Normans. Yet who
knew how many days of watching and waiting lay ahead of him before Maire might
leave that accursed place again?

He'd already sent young Shea O'Byrne straightaway back
to Glenmalure to let Triona and Niall know that Maire's whereabouts at least,
had been discovered, and with it went a firm order for Niall to remain there,
that he might be recognized from the meadow where their clansmen had been
struck down. He expected Shea's return at any time with ten extra men to better
their odds, for that was the next step, doubtless more relentless waiting for
the right moment to strike.

It would do no good to kill the baron outright, though
that was exactly what Ronan burned to do. But what of Maire? Until she left the
castle, he could not help her, and even then, he would be forced to watch
helplessly if she were surrounded by too many guards. Yet if the number was
right, a smaller force equal to or even somewhat larger than his twenty
clansmen, more than half of the Normans would be dead before they realized from
where the arrows flew . . .

"Very well, Flann, an hour's rest but no
more." Sliding down against a gnarled tree trunk, Ronan set his bowcase
upon the ground beside him. "By then it won't be long until we know if the
bastards will amuse us another day or if we prepare to fight."

"Fight I hope, Lord, for Maire's sake."

Ronan didn't answer, made so angry by the memory of his
sister in the baron's arms that he didn't trust himself to.

***

"If . . . if
she's
going to West Meath, then I should be able to come too! In fact, I demand
it!"

Duncan groaned to himself, Adele clearly undaunted to
be railing at him dressed in her sleeping gown and robe while the courtyard bustled
with activity around her. God's teeth, could the morning be progressing any
less smoothly?

Already it was past the sunrise hour when he had wished
to leave; Faustis had gone to extremes to provide provisions for several days'
stay at his westernmost castle, especially when the steward had learned that
Rose would be accompanying him. And now a sky that had dawned clear was
threatened by angry-looking storm clouds—Faustis frantic to see that supplies
tied atop packhorses were covered well with canvas—though the promise of a
spring squall was nothing to the raging tempest in Adele's eyes as she glanced
at Gerard already mounted and waiting grimly near the drawbridge.

Duncan glanced at his knight, too. Gerard's reaction
upon learning of his decision to return the O'Melaghlins to their clan had been
the thorniest part thus far of the morning. To say he hadn't been pleased—damn
the man! Gerard's outrage had no doubt awakened anyone at Longford Castle who
hadn't already been up early attending to preparations for the journey.

"Duncan, will you answer me or no? You barred me
from leaving once before, and I'll not suffer it again!"

"Do you ride in your sleeping clothes then, or
will you dress first while we wait for you?"

Adele sputtered in surprise, made speechless for
perhaps the first time in her life, which was worth it alone to Duncan . . .
almost.

"I'll give you a few moments, woman, no more
before we leave you behind—"

"I'll be ready, don't you fear,"
came
Adele's response as she spun on her heel, her loose
blond hair flying around her. She threw a brilliant smile at Gerard before
hurrying into the castle, which only made Duncan's jaw grow tight.

Yet perhaps such a distraction was exactly what his
knight needed on the journey, he reasoned, much to his disgust upon the whole
matter. The growing rift between himself and Gerard troubled him, but there was
nothing to be done for it now. In a few days, though, as soon as he returned to
Meath, he planned to demand Adele and her retainers leave for England, not only
so Gerard might focus once more upon his upcoming marriage, but that the
distress Duncan had seen in Rose's eyes when she'd asked not to be left alone
with Adele
be
banished.

By the blood of God, he would not have the woman he
intended to wed so sorely troubled within her own household! More convinced
than ever that Adele had made some threat against
Rose,
Duncan nonetheless hadn't been able to elicit any such charge from her, which
had both warmed him that she must want to spare him further discord and yet
puzzled him, too.

She had obviously stood up against Adele already, but
that
was knowing
Duncan wasn't too far away. He didn't
blame her for not wishing to remain behind, touched more than he could say when
she'd said simply she wanted to be with him. He swept the courtyard with a
glance, at his thirty knights and as many men-at-arms mounted and surrounding
the prisoners, who still appeared dazed at their good fortune, and deemed it
was time enough to fetch Rose from the great hall.

Duncan felt a familiar eagerness overwhelm him as he
strode toward the doorway where Adele had disappeared a moment before; he
wanted to be with Rose, too, that driving need become as essential to him as
breathing. He'd left her not so long ago by the fire, wanting her to be comfortable
until they were ready to leave, yet it felt like hours had passed since he'd
carried her from the tower.

Another thing he'd decided was that upon their return
new quarters would be prepared for them elsewhere in the castle, so she
wouldn't be constantly faced with so many steps. He would see to it that she
had everything she needed for her embroidery, too, just as he'd promised in
Dublin. As to when she'd have time to wield needle and thread was another
matter; he'd kept her busy enough with more pressing concerns these past two
days, and he fully intended to continue.

Duncan groaned to himself at how reluctant he'd been to
leave their bed in the dark hours of the morning, tempted to delay the tasks in
front of him just so he might again feel Rose opening her arms and her sweet,
willing body to him. But when she'd sleepily thanked him for deciding to
release the
O'Melaghlins, that
alone had spurred him
to rise, Gerard jumping forefront to his mind.

Fresh anger flooded Duncan at the thought of their
violent exchange, but he forced it away when he spied Rose. She turned from the
hearth at his approach, her blue cloak whirling around her, her eyes troubled.

"Duncan, I just saw Adele rushing to her room. She
called out to me that she was accompanying you to West Meath."

"A rash move—I did so to appease Gerard more than
anything."

"B-but does that mean I will be staying
here?"

She suddenly looked so pale that concern swept Duncan,
though he was moved, too, that she seemed so distressed at the thought they
might be apart. "Leave you here with Rufus the Fool? Reginald will have
his hands full enough with that one and the rest of Adele's retainers not to
worry over you. Now come."

Rose appeared so relieved that Duncan couldn't resist
drawing her into his arms, and he was struck that she trembled.

"Woman, are you not well?"

"No, no, Duncan, I'm fine, truly. I feared that
you would leave me, is all."

"Never, woman. Never." He hugged her
fiercely, inhaling the scent of her hair while she clung to him as if she might
not do so again, Duncan found himself thinking. He drew away from her to stare
into her eyes.

"Rose, there's little to dread. If any
O'Melaghlins still
hide
in the woods, they'll not dare
attack once they see their clansmen among us. I wager they'll be as surprised
as their chieftain soon will be . . . no small thanks to you."

She didn't reply, and he chose not to press her; that
she appeared less pale was soothing enough. Instead he took her hand and drew
her with him, hoping his low teasing might coax her into a smile.

"Just think. If we hurry, we might be mounted and
gone before Adele returns to the courtyard. Would that please you?"

Duncan received a small nod for his efforts but no more,
though in the next instant Rose did squeeze his hand, which served to make
amends for some of the morning's troubles. If only now it didn't rain . . .

***

"Ronan, look!"

He did, turning from the men who'd just arrived, his
anger intense that Niall was among them. So intense that for an instant he
found it difficult to focus upon the Normans surging forth from Longford
Castle, though Flann O'Faelin shifted anxiously beside him.

"The spawn! Do you think they come after us . . .
?"

The Irishman's voice had faded at the same moment Ronan
saw her, a strikingly lovely blond woman astride a dappled gray who met the
description given to him a few days ago by his clansmen. Aye, she'd been among
those at the meadow. As she rode across the drawbridge accompanied by a
grim-faced knight, Ronan knew then that this was no force come again to search
the woods. But where the devil might they be bound?

"Ronan,
it's
Maire!"

Niall suddenly beside him, Ronan had to grab his
younger brother's arm to prevent him from rushing out of the cover of the
trees, no matter he burned to act as well. His furious whisper cut the air.

"Damn you, Niall, will you give us away? We can do
nothing to help her right now—look at their number!"

His gut clenched in dismay, Ronan sensed the same tension
in his brother, their eyes riveted upon Maire as she cleared the drawbridge in
close company with the dark-haired Norman who Ronan longed for nothing more now
than to destroy. Swallowing hard, he saw her glance toward the trees, and his
instincts told him then that she knew they were near.

But she just as quickly looked away, spurring her mount
into a canter to match the pace of the large force that moved beyond the
castle, sixty men at least, packhorses, and a small host of what appeared to be
servants bringing up the rear. And what of the two youths and an old man
surrounded by guards? Suddenly he remembered what Shea O'Byrne had told him of
three prisoners held from clan O'Melaghlin—by God, Shea had said something,
too, of West Meath.

"To your horses! Now!"

His low command as vehement as urgent, Ronan grabbed up
his bowcase and moved to his own pitch-black steed, not waiting for Niall. That
his brother, Tanist or no, had chosen to ignore his order to remain in
Glenmalure so rankled him that he did not trust himself at that moment to speak
further upon it. Yet deep in his heart, he knew he would have done the same.
That thought helped him temper his tongue when Niall caught his arm.

"Ronan, where do we ride?"

His brother's eyes
tormented,
his voice hoarse from concern for Maire, Ronan nonetheless made himself answer
sternly.

"To the west. We'll keep them in sight and wait
for the right moment, Niall, do you hear me? There's a woman among them who
might recognize you—dammit, swear to me you'll do nothing unless I tell you!
Maire's life may depend upon it!"

"Aye, I swear, Ronan. I swear!"

The rest of his clansmen already mounted and waiting,
Ronan said no more but nodded for Niall to move to his own horse.

God help them, twenty-two O'Byrnes against three times
as many Normans. A deafening clap of thunder breaking the stillness that had
settled over the woods made him wonder if his prayer had been heard.

Chapter 28

"Delightful, how wretchedly delightful."

Maire glanced at Adele, the blond beauty not appearing
so imperious now with her sodden cloak wrapped tightly around her, water
dripping from the tip of her nose. Maire squinted against the lashing rain
herself, and gripped her cloak beneath her lowered chin with one trembling hand
while she held the reins with the other. She was soaked to the skin, and so
chilled now that she couldn't stop herself shaking or her teeth from
chattering.

The rain which had been more a steady drizzle much of the
day had become a violent downpour what seemed like hours ago, though Maire knew
it hadn't been that long. Almost at once Duncan had left her, Gerard, and a
dozen men accompanying him as well as the packhorses and servants, to ride
ahead to a farming settlement to prepare for them a night's lodging. He'd
deemed the storm too fierce for them to continue on to his castle near Lough
Ennell,
no matter it was only another few hours' ride.

Watching him disappear into the blinding rain, Maire
had never felt such anguish, as much because she feared for his safety as that
she could do nothing yet to protect him. Still surrounded by more than two
score knights and men-at-arms, she'd surrendered any notion that she had the
slightest chance of eluding them and resigned herself that she must wait
further for the right moment.

"We'll be sleeping in huts, lying upon filthy
rushes and earthen floors, I know it!"

Maire made no reply, ignoring Adele and her complaints
as best she could as she peered ahead into the distance. Already it had grown
darker, not so much that it was late but that the storm was intensifying, the
wind howling around them, the muddy ground making it difficult for the horses
to keep at their pace.

Were Ronan and her clansmen faring any better? She knew
they were out there somewhere, which made her fear deepen all the more for
Duncan.

If Ronan weren't so cautious, ever mindful of his men's
welfare, she was certain he would have attacked by now and risked the odds. But
no doubt he believed her life in danger as well, that she'd been a captive
brutally treated this past week—Jesu, Mary, and Joseph! Only a week to have
found love and now
be
faced with abandoning it
forever? Aye, but what else was there for her to do?