Claire Delacroix (40 page)

No matter that the maid sulked and dragged her feet, decidedly unhappy in Dermot’s absence.

Luc was not in the hall, nor was he to be found in the awakening kitchens. Fenella fast on her heels, Brianna headed for the stables and the spot in the loft where Luc slumbered. She wondered whether there was some way to be rid of Fenella to have a moment alone with Luc, then knew she should not have such disregard for her own reputation.

’Twas a paltry example to set for those looking to her for guidance. Not to mention that she had granted Luc her pledge to not find herself alone. Brianna climbed the ladder and called softly.

But Luc was not there either. Brianna frowned with new concern. ’Twas not like Luc to simply disappear.

The ostler was yawning in the corridor when Brianna descended. “Denis, where is Luc?”

Denis’ brow worked up and down. “He always slumbers in the loft.”

“But he is not there. Indeed, his pallet looks undisturbed. Are you certain he returned here last eve?”

The ostler frowned. “I do not know. I did not see him.”

“Do you think something has befallen him?” Fenella gave voice to the thought that lurked in every mind.

“Edward!” The ostler bellowed. “Andrew! Cedric!” The three boys came running, stumbling to an attentive halt before
Denis. They glanced as one to Fenella, then studied their boots guiltily. “Have you seen Luc this morn? Or last eve?”

The boys shook their heads and exchanged puzzled glances. “Not since the evening meal,” claimed one, the others nodding assent.

“ ’Tis no good omen,” Denis declared. “You and you, check the village and bailey. You and I shall seek him in the stables and addition, then check the other outbuildings. My lady, perhaps you might survey the hall once more. ’Tis easy enough to miss a man in such a large keep.”

“Of course.” Brianna felt a stubborn thrum of anxiety. “Thank you, Denis.”

“We shall find him, my lady.” The ostler bowed low, then snapped his fingers at the boys. Brianna summoned Fenella and stepped back into the bailey, just as two of the boys ran past, their footsteps turned toward the gate and village beyond.

What had happened to Luc? Brianna had a terrible sense of foreboding and she could not keep her gaze from trailing to the orchard where first they had met.

And matched words.

Something dark fluttered in the wind and blew against the stone wall of the keep. ’Twas not far from where Luc had demanded his first kiss. ’Twas not far from where Luc had spied Ismay.

On impulse, Brianna strode into the orchard.

“My lady, your kirtle!” Fenella wailed.

Brianna had no concern with the state of her kirtle. She wanted only to find Luc, only to assure herself that naught was amiss.

But ’twas only a piece of cloth that fluttered against the wall. Black cloth. Brianna frowned, noted its frayed edges, and wondered why it was here.

When she picked it up, something clattered to the ground from within its folds. Brianna saw the dark stain in the midst of the cloth almost at the same moment she saw the bloodstained dagger in the turf. Her heart stopped, a lump rose in her throat. She touched the stain, found it yet wet.

And her fingertip was smeared red.

Brianna gasped. She looked wildly over the wall to where Ismay had been found and went cold.

For a man lay on the rough ground that stretched from the wall down to the rushing Darrow. There was blood on his face, his garb was torn, and he did not move.

His matted ebony hair was graced with a white forelock.

“
Luc!
” Brianna screamed. “Nay, not Luc!”

Not her Luc! Brianna leapt to the top of the low wall, kicking her cursed skirts beyond her, then vaulted to the other side, running to Luc’s side as soon as her feet hit the ground.

Brianna fell on her knees beside him and touched the gash upon his cheek. His skin was pale beyond all, the cut ugly and clearly not his only wound. His cheek was cold and when Brianna touched him, he did not move. Her heart clenched with fear.

Brianna whispered Luc’s name, barely aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks. There could not be another funeral at Tullymullagh—she could not lose Luc.

But Luc did not move.

Brianna heard Fenella call from behind her, but she had no interest in what the maid might say. She reached beneath Luc’s tabard with trembling hands, not balking at the chore even though she feared what she might find.

But her fingertips found the faint drum of Luc’s heart.

Brianna cried out in her relief. She leaned over Luc, whispered his name repeatedly, even while she kissed his cheek,
his bruised knuckle, his brow. Only when she leaned this close did Brianna hear the whisper of Luc breathing.

Who had done this to him? And why?
Why?

Just when Brianna was convinced that Luc could not hear her, he cautiously opened one eye. ’Twas bruised and clearly painful to move. The wedge of color that Brianna could see was a wintery silver.

“You are alone,” Luc noted, his voice ragged.

The very words brought tears to Brianna’s eyes. How could he be concerned first and foremost with her welfare when he lay wounded like this? Truly Luc was a man like none other.

Brianna bit her lip, unable to stem the flow of her grateful tears. She thought suddenly of the night he had consoled her and deliberately chose to misinterpret his concern.

“Nay, I am not alone,” she whispered unevenly and touched his shoulder. “I am with you.”

Luc closed his eyes, grimacing against his pain. “You pledged it. Not alone.”

He could be stubborn when an issue seized his mind, that much was certain!

“Aye, I did. Fear not—Fenella is behind and Denis shall shortly be here.” Brianna bent and touched her nose softly to Luc’s. “We are alike, Luc, in our determination to keep our pledges.”

Luc’s lips moved as though he might have smiled, had they not been so cracked. He made a sound suspiciously like a snort and his hand closed tentatively over her own.

His skin was so uncharacteristically cold that Brianna feared anew for his life.

“Careful,” Luc urged hoarsely. “Father Padraig. Watch.”

The priest? “But why?”

Luc frowned, every word obviously an ordeal for him.
“There when Ismay talked. Behind me in the chapel yesterday.”

Brianna gasped. “When you checked the crucifix?”

Luc murmured assent, then frowned. “Not closed, my fault, surprised.” He heaved a sigh, no doubt born of disappointment in himself. “Father Padraig came.”

Brianna’s eyes widened as she understood. The hiding place had not been fully closed because Luc had been surprised by the priest’s arrival.

Brianna clutched Luc’s hand and leaned yet closer, her other hand stroking the hair away from his brow. “But what happened? You were in the hall when I left last evening.”

Luc licked his lips but his eyes did not open again. “You were safe.”

Brianna smiled at his gruff protectiveness. “I was and I am,” she assured him quietly. “Tell me what happened.”

He frowned again. “Could not see.”

“But the moon was full.”

“Dark cloth.” Luc made an exasperated sound in the back of his throat. “Surprised. Again.”

The cloth in the orchard. Father Padraig must have ambushed Luc, casting the cloth over his head so that he could not fairly defend himself.

Or identify his assailant.

Father Padraig must have thought that Luc had the Rose. Was it because the gems were shaped into a crucifix that the priest thought the prize should be his own? Or was he as susceptible to greed as any other man?

Despite his frustration, Brianna had no doubt that Luc had fought back when he was attacked. The bruises on his face and hands alone revealed that it had been no short scuffle. She bent and kissed his temple again, hating that he had been lying out here all night long.

No wonder he was so chilled.

“Aid is coming,” she whispered. Luc’s only response was to tighten his grip upon her hand and Brianna’s heart wrenched at the delay.

What kept Fenella? Brianna looked up, surprised to find so many flanking Fenella along the wall. And not a one of them moved! Brianna waved desperately to win their attention, only to realize that they were not even looking at her.

Their gazes were fixed on a point far below. Brianna turned, looking past Luc for the first time.

In the river far below, a man’s figure was caught on the rocks. It bobbed lifelessly in the current and Brianna had no doubt that that man drew breath no longer.

There would be another funeral at Tullymullagh, after all.

’Twas but a heartbeat later that Brianna realized the man’s sodden dark garb was none other than the robe of a priest.

And she knew that there was naught to fear from Father Padraig any longer.

Luc awakened in the midst of unfamiliar softness and warmth, the familiar scent of attar of roses filling his nostrils. He stretched back against the pallet and might have smiled, knowing full well who was close at hand, had the move not sent aches right through him.

Too late, Luc recalled the battering he had taken. There would be evidence aplenty as to whom he had battled, for Luc had not fallen easily.

Aye, he had ensured that his opponent had a blackened eye.

“Not so quickly!” Brianna chided. The heat of her breast pressed against Luc and she dabbed some herbal concoction against the cut upon his cheek. It stung wickedly, both that
and his body’s enthusiastic response to the lady’s presence, assuring Luc that he was not dead yet.

Indeed, he could not be that sorely injured. He forced open his eyes to find Brianna right beside him, her complexion pale, her lovely features drawn with concern.

Apparently for him.

Luc’s heart pounded and he scanned the room while he pondered that marvel. He must be an occupant in the men’s chamber of the keep. Uther hovered behind the lady with a tray of various ointments. Gavin himself loitered on the far side of the room.

Luc propped himself up on his elbows at the sight of his sire’s bruise. “You have a blackened eye!”

“You must rest,” Brianna chided, but Luc had no interest in her counsel in this moment.

“At least I look to have won my fight,” Gavin snapped.

“What fight?” Luc demanded.

Gavin limped closer, snorting in disdain. “ ’Twas that
champion
knight, no less. Filled with the wine of my own cellars, he decided to teach me the price of disciplining a knight.”

Gavin snorted. “ ’Tis
he
who will have time aplenty to consider his own folly. No one picks a fight with me.” Gavin flicked a baleful glance at Brianna. “And no one will be taking him morsels from the kitchens this time.”

Brianna did not even look inclined to challenge that statement. Luc was relieved that she appeared to have learned not to press his sire.

He had more than enough cause for concern on her account without Gavin angered as well.

Luc leaned back against the pallet, wincing slightly at the move, and decided to be less direct with the others than he had been with Brianna. “Are there any others in the keep with a blackened eye this morn?”

“Nay,” Uther said crisply. “Except, of course, Father Padraig.”

Luc’s eyes flew open. “And what news of Father Padraig? How did he come by his bruise?”

“Presumably from you, though he will never tell the tale,” Gavin said harshly.

Luc felt his eyes narrow. “What is this?”

“He is dead, drowned in the Darrow.”

“Dead?” All nodded in unison and Luc feared their suspicions. “I did not kill him,” he said quickly, for he knew he had not.

“Nay, you did not,” Brother Thomas confirmed from the portal. He wiped his hands as he strolled into the room, his assessing gaze slipping over Luc’s bruises.

“You understand my expertise is more with the dead than the living,” he rumbled with a wink, “but I do not imagine that you will be joining their ranks soon.” He took a sniff of the concoction Brianna was using and nodded approval, pointing at another gash on Luc’s jaw. “Put some more of it on that one.”

The princess did as she was bidden and Luc stifled his response to the twinge the ointment sent through him. Brother Thomas smothered a smile, clearly well aware of that effect.

“What of Father Padraig?” Uther asked.

“He drowned,” Brother Thomas declared. “Nearly on the other side of the river and facing away from the keep. I believe Father Padraig was fleeing Tullymullagh in the wake of his battle with Luc.” He nodded to Brianna. “The dagger he dropped in the orchard could easily have been the one that spelled your sire’s demise.”

Luc looked at Brianna in confusion. “I found a bloodstained black cloth in the orchard,” she supplied.

Luc nodded grimly. “The one used to blindfold me.”

“Aye,” Brianna agreed. “But a dagger was wrapped within it.”

Luc straightened at that, only to find Brother Thomas nodding agreement. “Aye, a dagger that matches Connor’s wounds well. It would seem that Father Padraig was responsible for the deaths of both Lady Ismay and Connor.”

Brother Thomas frowned. “The cloth looks to have been torn from a tunic and there is old blood upon it as well as Luc’s own.”