Claire Delacroix (9 page)

But they were alone. This was her chance to not only confess her plan but to win her father’s counsel in privacy.

“Do not give me that look,” Connor chided softly. “Gavin would have you learn the duties of a lady of the keep and ’tis not such a poorly timed thought. Uther will see that you know all you need to know.”

“Father, I care little of that.” Brianna closed the space between them with a quick step and seized her father’s hands. “We need not let Gavin gain the solar,” she said
urgently. “You see, I have a plan to ensure that I need not choose
any
of his sons. And as Henry declared, Gavin cannot wed me himself for he already has a wife. So, once the sons have failed, then all we have to do to ensure that you regain suzerainty of Tullymullagh is to persuade Gavin to abandon—”

“Brianna!” Connor’s tone was chiding and he gave her fingers a firm squeeze. “Understand that Gavin will not abandon Tullymullagh, for any price. ’Tis his prize and one he labored to win.”

Brianna cared little for any sacrifice Gavin might willingly have made. To her it seemed her sire was bearing the full price of this change.

And unnecessarily so.

“But Father, Tullymullagh is
yours!
You have labored to build it from the ground and ’tis unfair that you should lose Tullymullagh on the eve of its completion.”

Brianna got no further before her father silenced her with a single fingertip touched to her lips. She looked into his eyes and her heart wrenched at the profound sadness she found there.

“Fair has naught to do with the way of the world, child,” he said sternly. Brianna tried to protest, despite the weight of his finger, but Connor pushed more firmly against her lips. “Brianna, you must face the truth. I will never be King or even Lord of Tullymullagh again.”

“But—”

“But
naught
!” Her father’s eyes flashed once more. “One does not win the war by fighting a single battle again and again and again.”

Brianna stepped back, confused by this claim. “I do not understand.”

“Tullymullagh is lost to me, but not to you,” her sire
asserted. “Know this, child, you will be Lady of Tullymullagh, if ’tis the last deed I see done in this world.”

Brianna frowned. “But I do not intend to wed any of Gavin’s sons and Henry will not make me lady without a lord.”

Connor smiled slowly, his eyes sparkling silver. “Do you imagine, child, that I have not considered that issue?”

As Brianna stared at her father’s expression, she knew beyond doubt that she was not the only one with a plan.

Though she was sorely confused by his claim. “But, Father, how could you have found my one true love without my even knowing of it?”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“My one true love.” Repeating the words evidently did naught to enlighten her sire. Brianna smiled. “I will only wed my one true love, Father. If there is to be a Lord of Tullymullagh who claims me as his bride, that can only be my one true love.”

Connor seemed slightly dumbfounded by this confession.

Undeterred, Brianna squeezed her sire’s hand. “Father, surely you know that your own tale, the power of the love that you and Mother shared, could only inspire me to desire the same manner of match?”

Connor released Brianna’s hands and strode across the room, rubbing his temple. He pivoted to face her where the shadows cast by the oil lanterns obscured his expression.

When he spoke, his words were strained. “Have you, perchance,
found
this one true love of yours?”

Brianna was surprised to find herself assaulted by the memory of a very steady, very blue gaze. ’Twas a gaze that lurked between an impressive nose and a startlingly white tuft of hair, a gaze that sparkled when a certain man teased her unexpectedly.

Nonsense! ’Twas no more than her vigorous curiosity at work.

“Of course not!” she declared with unnecessary vehemence. “But I am certain that I shall know him the very moment my eyes land upon him.”

Connor’s words carried an affectionate smile. “Will you now, child? And how will you know?”

Brianna shrugged. “Why, the way that you and Mother knew. Because your hearts were as one.” She took a step closer to her father. “Tell me exactly how it was that you knew the truth.”

Connor cleared his throat. “I did not guess the truth when first we met. Indeed, I was long away from your dame before I knew that she had captured my heart,” he confessed quietly. “And I feared then that I had guessed the truth too late to ever win her hand.”

“In Outremer,” Brianna breathed, loving every nuance of this tale.

“Abandoned for dead in Outremer,” her father corrected sternly.

“But you came home to Mother. ’Tis so romantic!”

“Aye,” Connor admitted. His eyes glittered even in the shadows. “But never was there a certainty in my heart that the lady felt the same regard for me. ’Twas no more than a hope, a distant hope, until I returned and saw the welcome in her eyes.”

Brianna smiled. “But she
did
love you. And she was feeling precisely thus about you. How can you imagine that I would not want the same love in marriage for myself?”

Connor stepped closer, his gaze fixed on Brianna. “Child, understand that what we felt then was but a faint shadow of what ultimately grew between us. You may well have already met this one true love you seek.”

“How would I know?”

“Think, child. Think of a man who stands by you with honor, a man who prompts your smile, a man you would be proud to call sire of your sons. A man who will take his place beside you in this solar and command Tullymullagh as his own.”

Brianna could not quite stifle a feeling that her sire had very definite ideas who that man might be.

She might have thought further upon the matter if she had been able to evict those blue eyes from her memory. But Brianna knew that Gavin’s uncooperative son was not for her.

Luc Fitzgavin had as much as told her that he had come to precisely the same conclusion.

’Twas odd how Brianna did not find his words encouraging.

Her sire laid a hand upon her shoulder, his voice sounding low in her ear. “Make no mistake, Brianna, there is much yet at stake. Use the wits granted to you and consider our situation. Already our forces have lost to Gavin’s own, and many valiant knights have paid the price. Beware that any further protest against this invader may bring his retribution upon us.”

This was precisely Brianna’s concern, but her sire granted her no opportunity to speak. “Understand, Brianna, that Gavin Fitzgerald is not the manner of man who ever forgets a slight granted against him.”

A chill hand closed around Brianna’s heart as she realized that she had already proven most defiant of the mercenary’s will. But she was only defending what rightfully belonged to her father!

Outrage rolled through Brianna once more, but her father granted her no time to indulge it. “On the morrow, Gavin lays claim to this chamber,” he continued intently. “But
there is one thing I would see safe from his hand and I have need of your aid.”

Brianna’s eyes widened. “What is it? What can I do?”

A footstep sounded on the stair and Connor started. “We must not be overheard!” he whispered. His fingers tightened on Brianna’s shoulder as Uther’s complaints carried to their ears.

“By the saints above, one would think you never had brought a bath to the solar! Have you so soon forgotten the Lady Eva herself taking her leisure in these chambers?” The wooden tub was rolled into the solar by the cook’s largest helper who smiled apologetically at Connor and Brianna.

Uther was dissatisfied, though, and fussed over the placement of the tub. He continued to fret, even when three men carried steaming buckets of water into the chamber.

“Nay, nay, nay, move it over
there
. There will be a draft from that window. Now, you and you—fetch those two braziers from the floor below and we will have need of more wood from hall. The princess must not catch a chill!” Uther clapped his hands and servants scattered.

Connor winked so quickly at Brianna that she nearly missed the gesture, let alone prepared herself to follow his lead in whatever he might say.

“What is this, child?” Connor declared suddenly when Uther might have spoken. His tone was shocked. “You
missed
the Mass this day?”

Brianna had not, but she hung her head all the same. ’Twas clear this was some plan of her sire’s to win them their privacy once more. “I am sorry, Father,” she murmured, as she thought she should.

“An apology to me is naught before God!” Connor retorted. He squared his shoulders and spun to face Uther, the very image of moral indignation. “Uther! Please send my
goodwill to Father Padraig. Ask whether he would be so good as to come and sing the Mass for Brianna and myself. In the private chapel.”

Brianna understood immediately. They would have a few moments in the chapel alone for her father to finish telling her what he wanted secured from Gavin.

Uther bowed. “Of course, my lord. I believe he was just in the hall below. I shall have the lady’s bath prepared by the time you have made your prayers.”

“Excellent, Uther. As usual, you have matters well in hand.” Connor turned a stern eye upon his daughter. “Child, you must learn that there is no excuse for failing to give thanks on each and every day you draw breath.”

“I am sorry, Father.” Brianna bowed her head as though ashamed of her behavior. Her father led her toward the tiny stair on the far side of the solar, then paused as though in sudden recollection.

His gaze, though, was markedly steady. “And bring your cloak, child,” he murmured with feigned casualness, his words loud enough for Uther’s ears. “The chapel is cold these nights.”

Brianna quickly did as she was bidden, curious beyond all as to what she was going to learn. Connor picked up a small oil lantern and followed immediately behind his daughter. As they climbed the stairs, the maids spilled back into the solar with all the belongings they had been sent to fetch.

“Make haste!” Connor murmured urgently.

Brianna did as she was bidden. “But why summon Father Padraig?” she whispered.

“We may have need of a witness to declare we took naught from the chapel,” Connor responded quietly.

And Brianna realized that her father’s secret was hidden there.

Father and daughter reached the floor of the chapel above and Connor genuflected before he lifted his lantern high. The light flickered off the simple contents of the chamber and, as always, Brianna was awed by its beauty.

A simple altar carved of wood spanned the middle of the room, a silver chalice and plate reposing in its center. A square linen cloth adorned the altar,
IHS
worked in gold thread on the corner hanging to the front. A thick rug was cast across the wooden floor that the family’s knees might be protected. ’Twas a small chapel, by any calculation, the roof was so steeply pitched that only the very center was usable.

But behind the altar on the east side rose a massive crucifix that had fascinated Brianna since her childhood. Wrought of wood, the juncture of the arms was marked with a great quartz half-sphere polished to a gleam. No matter where the light was in the chapel, that stone seemed to shine with an inner light.

’Twas said that a fragment of the True Cross was trapped within the stone, though Brianna had never had the opportunity to see it closely for herself.

Her father quickly lit the two plump beeswax candles on the altar and the wicks sputtered fitfully before they caught the flame. The tiny room suddenly danced with warm candlelight, the gold of the crucifix gleaming mysteriously. The quartz glowed, as always it did.

In the blink of an eye, Connor had set aside his lantern and reached for that very stone. Brianna watched as he ran his hands over it. Her father moved so quickly that Brianna could not have said precisely where he touched the great jewel.

She did, however, see it open like the lid of a box and hear the faint creak of a hinge. Brianna gasped, her father fired a
quelling look across the chapel, and footsteps sounded below in that very moment. Connor reached inside what looked to be a tiny chamber hidden behind the stone, removed something roughly square, then closed the compartment again.

Then the priest’s blessing echoed from the solar below. Brianna heard the servants’ murmured greetings to the man of the cloth passing through their ranks. She smelled the tang of the incense in the censer Father Padraig always carried and heard his footfall on the ladder.

Her sire fairly flew across the chapel. He pushed Brianna to her knees before the altar and pulled her cloak closed.

And just as the priest’s shaved pate glowed in the shadows of the stairs, Connor shoved whatever he had retrieved into Brianna’s hands. ’Twas a flat cold box and she immediately pulled it beneath her cloak. Her fingers told her ’twas metal and unadorned, about the size of her hand laid flat and as thick as both hands together.

“Letters penned to me by your dame when we were betrothed,” Connor whispered. “We must hide them anew.”

Brianna clutched the precious relic of her mother and hid it deep within the folds of her cloak. “But where?” she murmured, barely daring to give voice to the words as the priest drew near.