Claire Delacroix (41 page)

The occupants of the room exchanged a glance. “My lord Connor’s blood,” Uther murmured and Brother Thomas nodded.

“Aye. I would guess that Father Padraig wore a black tabard that day as well.”

The sense of relief that flooded through the small chamber was tangible. Father Padraig had been the guilty party, after all. Luc leaned back and closed his eyes while Brianna tormented him.

“You are certain that he drowned?” Gavin questioned.

“Aye, ’tis easily done.” The monk gathered two handfuls of his ample habit. “These robes are cursedly heavy, thick wool, though that is naught compared to when they are wet. I have nearly lost my footing in fording quite a shallow stream when they wound about my legs. Father Padraig likely fell, perhaps he hit his head then, perhaps when the river cast him across the rocks.”

“But why would he kill Connor?” Gavin demanded.

Brother Thomas looked at Luc. “It would seem that Connor had a treasure yet remaining from his travels in the East, or at least, many believed he did. ’Twas called the Rose of Tullymullagh.”

Gavin looked at Brianna and frowned in confusion, but
Uther’s eyes rounded. “I never truly believed it existed,” he admitted quietly.

“Apparently, Father Padraig believed it did,” Luc said.

“And he wanted it for his own,” Gavin breathed, obviously understanding that manner of motivation. “It should have been
mine
!”

“I believe ’tis long gone,” Luc insisted and his father’s face fell. “But Ismay told me she recalled something of the Rose of Tullymullagh that all others had forgotten, that last night in the hall. Father Padraig was there when she said as much.”

“He did not want any others seeking his prize,” Uther guessed.

“Aye, ’tis easier to hunt alone,” Gavin concurred.

“My father had a hiding place in the chapel,” Brianna contributed.

“But Father Padraig did not know where it was within the chapel,” Uther breathed in understanding. “And Connor surprised him when he sought it there. My lord must have recognized him!”

“So, he could not be left to live,” Gavin concluded. He jabbed a finger through the air at his son. “But why did he attack you?”

“Brianna told me of the hiding place in the chapel, and when I checked it yesterday, ’twas empty.” Luc shook his head. “Father Padraig surprised me there, but I did not manage to close the tiny door completely before his arrival.”

“So, he thought
you
had the Rose that he desired,” Uther concluded.

“And ambushed you in the bailey,” Gavin nodded.

“But why did he flee?” Luc asked softly. All eyes turned on him. “If Father Padraig wanted only the Rose of Tullymullagh,
he did not win it by attacking me. He could not flee with the prize he sought, for I did not have it!”

“Perhaps he thought you dead, but his actions observed,” Brother Thomas speculated. “Perhaps another came along and saw what he did.”

“But no one raised a hue about Luc being injured,” Brianna observed. “ ’Twas this morn when he was found and thence by fortune alone.”

The monk frowned. “Perhaps he realized Luc knew his identity and dared not remain here any longer.”

“Aye. Or perhaps there is yet another piece to the puzzle we have yet to find,” Luc concluded grimly. He looked to his father. “Did you not say there were
two
in the chapel?”

Gavin nodded and scowled anew. “An accomplice!”

And Luc had heard two men conspiring in the stables. Father Padraig could have been but one.

The other could have been anyone at all.

The other might have been the one so determined to make the Rose of Tullymullagh his own. Luc’s heart clenched.

Uther flicked a cold glance Gavin’s way. “You could have been mistaken. Are you certain ’twas two?”

Gavin’s frown deepened. “At the time, I was certain.…” His voice trailed away and Uther snorted disdain.

Brother Thomas shrugged. “Or perhaps ’twas Dermot who aided Father Padraig.”

Luc watched his father. Perhaps it had been Gavin behind the foul deed, after all.

“I suggest we call the matter resolved,” Uther said tightly. “ ’Tis clear there is no certainty that Father Padraig did not labor in this alone.”

“Aye, we know he killed Connor.” Gavin declared. “We
know he killed Ismay. Surely it matters little if he coerced another to aid him in his quest to the chapel.”

Luc was not nearly convinced of that, but Uther and Gavin clearly considered all issues of import resolved.

“I agree,” declared the steward.

“To be sure, ’tis no loss to have such a man gone from this keep and this world,” Gavin declared with a frown. “And indeed, ’tis good to know the truth.” He nodded approval toward Luc and Brother Thomas, then commented gruffly to Luc. “I should see you well soon.”

Luc blinked in surprise, but his sire was gone.

Brother Thomas moved closer, his lips twisting as he examined the cut upon Luc’s cheek. “It has need of a stitch,” he declared, then turned a quelling eye on Uther and Brianna. “Off with you both. ’Twill not be easy and my charge must have the privacy to roar.”

Brianna smiled, then bent suddenly to brush the softness of her lips across Luc’s temple. A heat flooded through Luc at her unexpected touch and the lady flushed.

“I shall come and see you later,” she said hastily, then hooked her arm through Uther’s elbow.

“And I shall have Cook bring you soup,” the steward declared. “ ’Tis the best thing for you, soup and slumber. ’Twill see you healed in no time.” He bowed low, then actually smiled stiffly for Luc. “I thank you, sir, for seeing my lord Connor’s murderer brought to justice, in one manner or another.”

Luc nodded, but he was markedly less than convinced that all was resolved. The only thing he knew for certain was that his princess was far from safe as yet. He made to rise but Brother Thomas laid a large hand on Luc’s chest and pushed him back against the pallet.

“You have nowhere to go, my friend,” the man counselled
firmly. “And you will be fortunate indeed if I permit you to leave this bed in time for Connor’s funeral two days hence.”

“But, matters are unresolved!”

“The killer is found, Luc. The accomplice, if indeed there is one, will wait.”

Luc heaved a sigh and frowned as he reluctantly lay back, not in the least bit persuaded of that.

“Aye, prepare for the worst,” Brother Thomas advised. Luc closed his eyes as the needle bit into his skin and fought his grimace, frustrated beyond all.

By Friday morn, Brianna was tired beyond belief. She was certain there had never been a keep in the throes of a second funeral while needing to plan the third to fall within a week. Another priest had come with haste from the priory to ensure the Masses were said for Connor. The prior himself had arrived thin-lipped to decide where Father Padraig should be laid to rest.

But ’twas not the activity that left her feeling drained. Indeed, such duties had occupied her thoughts when idleness might have left her weeping.

’Twas the knowledge that on this day, her father would be laid to his final rest.

And Brianna was not quite prepared to say farewell.

The gentle patter of rain echoed against the shutters and Brianna listened for a long time, half certain that if she did not rise, there could be no funeral.

’Twas whimsy, of course, and she knew it, but still she delayed the ordeal before her.

’Twas Fenella’s touch on her elbow that compelled Brianna to compose herself. Brianna knew that the people of Tullymullagh were waiting for her. They relied upon her for
an example of strength and ’twas her duty to be gracious in her bereavement.

Brianna did not know how she would do it. Indeed, she nearly turned back on the threshold of her chamber, uncertain how she could manage even the procession when grief so crumbled her defenses from the inside.

But a man stepped forward from the shadows of the landing, a man in sombre garb with a steady blue gaze. Brianna halted, Luc offered his hand.

“I did not want you to walk alone,” he said simply.

Brianna caught her breath and blinked back unexpected tears. “I thought Brother Thomas consigned you to bed.”

Luc rolled his eyes and she knew he tried to conjure her smile. “Two days there gave me enough strength to wrestle him and win,” he jested.

Now that she truly looked, Brianna noted that the cut on Luc’s cheek was less angry, the bruise around his eye vastly diminished. Even the crack in his lip seemed to be healing.

Her heart swelled beneath his steady gaze and she felt herself straighten. Brianna liked that Luc had guessed that she would need him and had made the effort to rise.

She took Luc’s hand, savoring his gentle strength as his fingers closed over the chill of her own. “He was a wise king,” she said softly.

“Aye,” Luc agreed. “ ’Tis the mark of a good administrator to put selfishness aside to serve his responsibilities, to weigh the testimony of those around him, and make decisions for the good of all. Your sire left you an uncommon example of such ability. I have no doubt that his memory will long burn bright in every heart in Tullymullagh.”

The very reminder that her father would live on in her own heart, as well as the hearts of all those on this estate, made the rite of this day seem a little less final. Others had
said as much, but Brianna believed Luc when the declarations of others had seemed no more than words.

Luc arched his brow ever so slightly as he held Brianna’s gaze. “You will do Connor’s memory proud as Lady of Tullymullagh.”

Luc’s thumb moved across her palm and Brianna knew he was telling her that she could survive this day with aplomb.

And he spoke aright, the ladyship of this keep would be hers. ’Twas no small responsibility, as she had already glimpsed in laboring beside Uther. And to serve the good of all beneath the lord and lady’s hand, ’twas necessary to consider matters beyond oneself.

Brianna realized suddenly that it had been willfulness alone that prompted her refusal of Luc—no more than a selfish desire to see all dance to her tune. It seemed a childish choice to have made and she felt suddenly that she learned much in recent days.

Aye, Luc was a man whom her sire had thought a fitting choice for Brianna. That much was clear from Connor’s defense of Luc in the orchard when Brianna laughed. Luc was a man who challenged her and made her smile, a man who protected her, a man well accustomed to administering a holding, a man who had seen Connor’s killer named.

Luc would be a good lord of Tullymullagh.

And Luc had pledged to win her heart. Brianna straightened and met his gaze, knowing the time for willfulness was past. She tightened her fingers over Luc’s hand.

“Would you walk with me this day, Luc Fitzgavin?” she asked softly, holding his gaze all the while. “ ’Twould be the only fitting place for the man I mean to wed.”

Luc’s eyes widened ever so slightly, their vivid hue evident even in the shadows, then his firm lips curved in a smile. Brianna’s heart leapt for she saw the evidence of his
pleasure and knew that could only be a good portent for their years together.

“I should be honored,” he declared with a conviction that left no doubt of his feelings. Luc kissed Brianna’s knuckles, then fitted her hand in his elbow. “Indeed, my lady, by your side is the only place I desire to be.”

And Brianna knew the satisfaction of having made the right choice.

’Twas a foul day for a funeral, not only cursed with driving, cold rain, but plagued by a wind that tormented the mourners. ’Twas as though the environs of Tullymullagh itself protested the loss of its lord. Luc remained steadfast beside Brianna, striving to keep her dry despite the elements, ensuring he was there when she faltered.

The funeral itself was solemn and elegant, no expense spared in the burning of candles or incense. Uther’s eulogy was long and left not a dry eye in the tiny chapel. The villagers clustered through the doors to mourn their overlord.

Brianna did her father’s memory proud, but then, Luc had expected as much. Only he knew when she clutched his fingers tightly. Only he and Uther could discern her tears during Uther’s emotional farewell to his liege lord.