Claire Delacroix (38 page)

And managed it just as Father Padraig’s tonsured head became visible. The priest’s stern glance sharpened as their gazes met. The two men stared at each other, as though challenging each other’s right to be in this chapel.

Had the priest come for the same reason as Luc?

Luc took the offensive, folding his arms across his chest to glare sternly at the priest. “Does my sire know you are here?”

Father Padraig cleared his throat. “I had thought to tidy the chapel, in case your sire wished to partake of the Mass upon his awakening.”

“Did you knock upon his door?”

“He did not answer.”

“Yet even while he slumbers, you hasten to prepare a Mass.” Luc eased into the center of the room. “I did not realize Gavin had become so religious.”

The priest’s eyes flashed. “There is hope for all of God’s sinners, that they might repent and learn the error of their ways before ’tis too late.”

“Do you oft invade the sleeping chambers of the household?” Luc demanded.

The priest snorted. “I am naught if not vigilant in tending my flock. ’Tis a responsibility which demands my every waking moment.”

Before Luc could respond, Father Padraig advanced into the chapel. Space did not permit the two men to stand far apart. “And what brings you to this place so early in the day, master Luc?”

“I thought I had dropped something when we gathered here two days past,” Luc lied. “My sire is untroubled by the passing of
family
through his chambers.”

Father Padraig lifted his chin. “And what might that have been?” he asked.

“Ah, a buckle I was repairing from a steed’s harness,” Luc prevaricated. “It did not seem fitting to trouble my sire over such a trinket.”

“And you look for it beneath the very cross?”

Luc smiled easily. “One never knows where such things might roll.”

But the priest’s manner remained decidedly frosty. “Have you found it?”

“Nay.” Luc strove to look unconcerned and shrugged. “I must have dropped it somewhere in the stable, after all. Good day, Father.”

Luc ducked for the stairs. He glanced back to find the priest’s quelling glance fixed upon him. When his gaze danced beyond the man garbed in black, Luc’s heart sank to his toes.

For the tiny compartment was yet open. Luc was certain he had securely pressed it closed, but the hinge must have caught.

And now Father Padraig would see what he had found.

There was naught Luc could do about the matter now. He could not dodge past the priest to close the latch without drawing the other man’s attention to the tiny treasury.

’Twas too late.

So, Luc forced a smile, hoped for the best, and trotted down the stairs, cursing his own stupidity every step of the way. How could he have been so careless?

Did he dare to hope that Father Padraig would not notice? Or perhaps, Connor’s confessor would already know of the hidden compartment. Perhaps Father Padraig would merely close the door, keeping another secret to himself as priests were charged to do.

Luc fervently hoped as much as he slipped from the solar, his sire still snoring in the great bed, and darted down the stairs to the hall.

He reached there just in time to hear the roar of outrage from outside. ’Twas easy enough to blend into the assembly that rolled from the hall into the bailey, murmuring in confusion, as they sought the source of the sound.

Luc blinked and realized that that could have been precisely what Connor’s attackers had done on Sunday. They
could have descended from the chapel as Gavin bellowed, perhaps to a room on the second floor, perhaps even tucked into a corner in the solar. Then when the assembly surged into the solar, they had simply mingled among them.

As though they had just arrived.

But what of the blood? Someone must have been splashed with Connor’s blood or wiped their blade on something. Had any among them changed their garb? Luc could not recall every one who had been there, but between himself, Brother Thomas, Uther, and Brianna, much could likely be concluded.

As he thought, Luc matched his pace to those racing toward the noise coming from the armory. Luc was far from surprised to find the lady Brianna at the very center of matters there.

’Twas the moan that gave them away.

Brianna’s head snapped up at the unmistakable sound and she felt a flush stain her cheeks. Indeed, it sounded so much like the noises she had made beneath Luc’s caressing touch that she feared someone had overheard and mocked her before all.

But the moan came again, and ’twas clear it did not come from the party of maids seeking Fenella.

In fact, it seemed to come from the armory.

’Twas strange, for ’twas far too early for any who labored there to have broken their fast and fired the forge. Could Fenella have fallen?

The moan came again, this time rising so clearly in pleasure that several maids giggled. Several others flushed and Brianna had quite a good idea in that moment which of her handmaidens were innocent and which were not.

There were rather more who understood this particular
sound than Brianna might have preferred. But she forced herself to think of the problem at hand.

No doubt, some scullery maid had tumbled one of the fighting men. All the same, Brianna could not ignore the sound now that all ears had discerned it. And perhaps ’twould make a good example to chastise the girl before those less-than-innocent handmaidens.

Brianna picked up her skirts and headed for the armory with purpose, ducking beneath the portal and blinking in the dim light within.

“Nay,
lower
!” breathed a voice that was very familiar. “Lower and lower again.”

“
Fenella!
” Brianna’s call cracked like a whip. The other maids clustered behind their lady with undisguised curiosity.

Far within the armory, there was a rustle of hay, then a gasp. Whispers were exchanged and Brianna’s lips tightened as she strode farther into the building.

“Fenella, if that is you—and I know full well that it is—I demand that you show yourself and make an accounting for your behavior.” Brianna’s voice was cold. “And whoever ’tis you whisper with can step forward as well, that you might answer for your actions together.”

The maids giggled excitedly at this, then gasped as one when a decidedly dishevelled Fenella stepped into the ray of light. Her hair was entangled with hay, the neck of her kirtle gaped open, her lips were swollen, and her expression dreamily unrepentant.

Even though she had been caught.

Brianna’s heart skipped a beat. This did not bode well for her maid’s reputation.

“Good morning, my lady,” the maid said with a soft smile. “I do apologize for not being in chambers when you
awoke, but I was … distracted from my duties this morn.”

Then Fenella turned and offered her hand to someone in the shadows behind.

The women exclaimed as one when Dermot joined Fenella, her hand fast within his own, his garb no less rumpled than that of the maid.

He even bowed slightly to a stunned Brianna. “Good morning, my lady.”

Brianna inhaled sharply. “ ’Tis far from a good morning. Fenella, you were entrusted to my father’s household to learn the duties you must one day take for your own. Surely you know better than to dishonor both your sire’s reputation and my sire’s hospitality by such behavior?

Fenella stepped out into the wan light and smiled sweetly. She turned that smile upon Dermot who, to Brianna’s astonishment, responded in kind.

In truth, the pair of them seemed oblivious to all, including their own predicament.

“I love him,” Fenella breathed, her eyes filled with stars. Then she looked at Brianna, her expression far from apologetic. “I cannot explain the feeling to you, my lady, but I care naught for convention and reputation when Dermot holds me in his arms.”

The maids gasped and began to chatter, their consternation masking Brianna’s own. People joined their ranks, evidently having heard the commotion and come from the hall to see its source. The maids dutifully recounted what had transpired thus far as more and more souls pressed into the comparatively small armory, craning their necks for a better view.

Brianna looked over the group with some dismay, for she could not imagine how she might salvage Fenella’s reputation
now. She jumped when she saw Luc leaning against the pillar beside the doorway, and met his gaze.

The glow in his eyes revealed that Brianna was not the only one recalling what had passed between them the night before. ’Twas different from this, however, for Luc had ensured that Brianna’s reputation was untainted.

He had given her pleasure but taken naught, denying his own desire. Which left Brianna less than impressed with Dermot’s behavior. Why, he should still be in mourning for Ismay!

“And what of you, sir?” Brianna asked. “Can you not even wait for Ismay to grow cold before you lavish your attentions upon another? What manner of faithlessness is this? What manner of husband are you?”

Dermot cleared his throat and frowned. “A poor one, no doubt,” he conceded, then raised his strange pale gaze to meet Brianna’s own. “And I can make no apology for that. ’Twas true enough that I made undue haste to find myself a wealthy wife when my sire cast me out all those years past. Had I granted more attention to the manner of woman I wed, then I might have been a better spouse than I was.”

“I know you will be!” Fenella declared and the pair were lost in each other’s eyes once more.

“What is this?” Brianna asked. “You cannot mean to wed this man! Fenella, where are your senses? Your sire will choose you a spouse—and ’twill not be this man who willingly admits he wed Ismay for her dowry!”

“My sire will have no choice,” Fenella insisted with rare quietude. She met Brianna’s gaze steadily. “ ’Twas from you I learned the value of love between man and wife, my lady, and ’twas from you that I learned to ensure I won my own way.”

Saints above. Brianna’s mouth went dry and she could not find the words to argue with that.

Fenella squeezed Dermot’s pale, elegant fingers. “ ’Twas to ensure my sire’s agreement that I granted Dermot my maidenhead. I love him, as he loves me, and now my father will have no choice.”

Brianna exhaled shakily, her gaze dancing between the pair before her. ’Twas clear that Fenella believed she followed Brianna’s lead and did not see the pitfalls before her. But, Brianna was far from convinced that Dermot had changed his ways, much less that he loved Fenella in truth.

No doubt he had an eye upon her significant inheritance.

But the decision was not Brianna’s to make. She looked Dermot in the eye and hoped her glance was chilling. “What do you intend to do about this matter, sir? You must answer for what you have done.”

“Aye.” Dermot straightened. “I shall go immediately to Fenella’s sire and plead my case. I shall ask him for Fenella’s hand in marriage.”

The women broke into excited chatter, but Brianna was not satisfied that Fenella’s fortune was so very good. “Aye, you will ride and you will ride swiftly, sir. And I shall send a runner to tell Fenella’s sire that you come and what you have done.”

Dermot looked alarmed. “Do you not trust me?”

“In a word, nay,” Brianna retorted.

“And rightly so,” Uther contributed. “As I recall, the lady Ismay made a markedly similar prenuptial choice some years past.” The older man glowered at the guilty pair. “Your inheritance is a significant one, is it not, Fenella?”

The maid blushed crimson. “My lady, tell them the import of wedding for love!”

Brianna felt the regard of all gathered there, most particularly one steady blue gaze. “Fenella,” she said softly, “a man who deserves your love will treat you with respect from the outset. Dermot has not troubled himself with anything
more than his own pleasure.” She cleared her throat softly. “I am sorry, Fenella, but this is no good sign.”

“I love him!” the maid protested hotly.

“And I love her,” Dermot argued, clasping the maid’s hand in his own.

Brianna felt her expression turn stern. “Then, hasten to her father. But be warned, Dermot, should you not arrive at Fenella’s home estate, should you
forget
to make an honest woman of Fenella, you may be certain that word of your deed will be made known to all within the kingdom of Henry II of England.”

Brianna took a deep breath, hearing a conviction in her voice that was but an echo of her father’s authority. “I pledge it to you, sir, that this woman, left to the care of Tullymullagh, shall not be left sullied and abandoned by you.”

Twin spots of color burned in Dermot’s cheeks and he held his chin high. “But I love her, my lady Brianna,” he declared. “You have naught to fear.”

Brianna shrugged. “Then, neither do you.”

To Brianna’s surprise, Luc’s steady words interrupted. “Unless, of course, you know something of how the lady Ismay met her demise.”

The assembly gasped as one and pivoted to eye Luc, his own gaze fixed on an increasingly flustered Dermot as he pushed his way through the throng.

“But she fell!” Dermot protested, rare color staining his face. “You all said she fell!”

“Or perhaps she was pushed,” Ruarke declared savagely, stepping forward in turn. “How long have you courted this maid, sir? Have you been adulterous?”