Dark of the Moon (12 page)

Her dress was of blue brocade, daringly shortened to show several inches of white stocking at the ankle. All in all, she was dressed as elaborately as any lady Caitlyn had ever glimpsed along the fashionable thoroughfares of Dublin. Caitlyn wondered why she had risked such finery on the dirt roads that crisscrossed the countryside. If that elegant skirt was not ruined past saving with mud, it would be a miracle, nothing less.

"Perhaps you could send one of the lads there for him. They seem to have plenty of time to stand about."

Liam looked over his shoulder at Caitlyn and Willie, who had indeed stopped work, brushes suspended, to gape at the visitor. Meeting Caitlyn's eyes, Liam glared fiercely; then his expression smoothed out as he turned back to Mrs. Congreve.

" 'Tis sorry I am, but—"

The clatter of hooves interrupted him. Connor rode up on Fharannain, drawing rein beside his guest and smiling down at her. Mrs. Congreve dimpled up at him from her seat in the gig.

Watching them, Caitlyn suddenly knew the reason Mrs. Congreve had risked her beautiful dress. Caitlyn cleariy wasn't the only one who had noticed that Connor d'Arcy was an extremely handsome man.

"Well, Meredith, to what do I owe the honor?" Connor asked cheerfully. Tall, leanly muscled, and dark, mounted on Fharannain, who was as black as the ace of spades, he was a perfect foil to Mrs. Congreve's tinsel-angel femininity. Left out of the conversation now that his older brother was at hand, Liam retreated to stand beside Caitlyn and Willie. Three pairs of eyes fixed on the breathtaking twosome.

"I've come to invite you to dinner," Mrs. Congreve said with a beguiling smile. "I haven't seen you this age."

"We've been busy."

"Who is she?" Caitlyn whispered to Liam. He answered from the side of his mouth.

"She married old man Congreve three years ago. He owned the property abutting Donoughmore to the south. When he died last year, she became a wealthy widow. And she's got her eye on Connor."

"She's beautiful," Willie breathed.

"Aye, but beauty is as beauty does," Liam said darkly. "None of us is wanting her for a sister-in-law."

"Connor seems to like her." Caitlyn was conscious of a faint stirring of unease deep within her breast as she watched Connor flirting with the lady. For some reason, she did not like the vivacious interplay at all, at all.

"Aye, he does," Liam said gloomily, then added, "But who wouldn't? I suppose I'd like her too if she shook her bosom at me like she does at him." Then, apparendy just remembering whom he was talking to, Liam cast Caitlyn a quick, furious look and colored up to his ears.

"And that's another reason you can't go around in breeches! I completely forgot you were a lass! I'd beg your pardon, but 'ds your own fault entirely!"

"Liam!" Connor called him before Caitlyn could dispute any of the points in that speech with which she felt obliged to take issue. Liam cast a quelling look at Caitlyn, then walked forward to join his brother and the guest.

"Aye?"

"Would you please escort Meredith home? I've things to attend to here, and she's frightened she won't reach home before nightfall."

"Oh, yes, Sir Edward Dunne told me that the Dark Horseman and his gang robbed three carriages near Navan just a few weeks ago! In a single night, mind! I'm sure I wouldn't care to be one of his victims!"

"And I'm sure he'd never harm one so lovely as you,"

Connor soothed. Mrs. Congreve smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. He smiled back at her. Caitlyn felt her unease deepen until it was practically a tangible thing inside her.

"Did you hear that, O'Malley?" Willie whispered excitedly, poking Caitlyn in the ribs with his elbow. Apparently he had forgotten his grievance with her again. "The Dark Horseman's been seen near here! Wouldn't it be grand if we could find out where he is and ask him if we could join his band?"

"Aye, and it would be grand too if we was to discover a pot o' gold at the end of the rainbow, but we won't," Caitlyn rejoined tartly, glad to be distracted.

Willie gave her an indignant look. Caitlyn wasn't in the mood to further his obsession with the Dark Horseman. She felt cross without reason.

"You, Willie, fetch Liam's horse, if you please." Connor rode over to where Willie and Caitlyn stood together and dismounted. "And you can take Fharannain . . ."he began, turning to hand the reins to Caitlyn. Then unaware aqua eyes met apprehensive kerry blue ones and widened. For a pregnant instant, their glances held; then Connor's eyes swept over her. His lips had tightened when he met her gaze again.

"I . . ." Caitlyn started to say, only to be silenced by a hard look and a wave of his hand.

"Take Fharannain," he said brusquely and handed the great horse's reins to her. Caitlyn accepted them with a nervous swallow, then stood watching as he strode back to where his lady friend waited in the gig. As he smiled at Mrs. Congreve, Connor was absolutely charming.

Only Caitlyn, who had been the recipient of his previous sizzling look, knew that beneath the lighthearted banter he was furious.

Glumly Caitlyn led Fharannain into the bam, passing Willie, who was leading out Thunderer, the chestnut gelding that Liam habitually rode. Willie had once labored in a stable, so he was familiar with horses, though he was not a proficient rider due to lack of practice.

Caitlyn could not ride at all. Growing up in the city, she had never had the chance to learn. As she stroked Fharannain's silky nose while the horse nuzzled her, it occurred to her that here was the perfect opportunity. The thought of Connor's face as she galloped by him on his own horse was irresistible. He would be dumbfounded—and enraged. But then, he was angry with her already on account of the breeches. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. . . .

Getting aboard was not as easy as it appeared. Fharannain was a tall horse. The stirrup dangled maddeningly just higher than she could hoist her leg, and Fharannain kept cocking his ears and rolling his eyes at her as she hopped about, trying to snag the stirrup with her foot.

Finally she stood on both legs again and led him over to a stall door. Climbing up to balance precariously on the narrow boards at the top, she leaped for the saddle. Fharannain sidestepped.

Caitlyn fell, sprawling on her hands and knees between him and the stall. Gritting her teeth, she hauled him back into position and tried again. This time she deliberately overshot the mark, anticipating his move. She landed facedown across his back, half on the saddle and half on his rump, clutching the saddle with both hands to keep from sliding off. The horse headed toward the door in nervous two-steps as she hauled herself into the saddle and picked up the reins.

"O'Malley!" Willie barely had time to jump out of the way when Fharannain leaped through the stable door. Caitlyn clung to his back like a bur and yanked uselessly on the reins, uttering a shaky "Who-oa!" She felt a horrible frisson of pure fright as the beast got the bit between his teeth, lowered his head, and streaked for the open meadow at a flat-out gallop.

Belatedly it occurred to her that, even to annoy Connor, trying to ride a huge, spirited animal like Fharannain when she had never even sat on a horse's back before was not the smartest thing she had ever done. But there was no undoing it now. . . .

Connor was walking toward the stable, having just seen off Mrs. Congreve and Liam, who were clipping away over the track in her gig with Liam's horse tied behind. Fharannain thundered past him, and he blinked as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Caitlyn summoned a weak smile as the animal flew past, then, throwing pride to the winds, managed to squeak,

"H-help!"

"What the bloody hell—!" The ejaculation was cut short as Fharannain pounded into the meadow. Sheep scattered before him, and their bleadng seemed to drive him to greater frenzies.

He was moving in leaps and bounds instead of at a smooth gallop, obviously intent on ridding himself of this strange rider. Caitlyn hauled manfully on the reins one more time before abandoning them and clinging to the animal's mane. He was heading straight for the stone wall that bisected the hillside. Caitlyn shut her eyes.

Moments later, she was somersaulting through the air, hands and body abruptly losing contact with the horse. Her eyes flew open to see Fharannain sailing over the fence without her just before she hit the ground with enough force to make her see stars.

"May the devil and all the Saints confound it!"

Caitlyn must have blacked out for an instant. She opened her eyes to discover Connor leaning over her, curses falling from his grim mouth seemingly of their own accord and real concern crowding out anger from his eyes. Seeing her eyelashes flutter and then her eyes meet his, he frowned. His face was pale with anxiety.

"Are you hurt?" The question was sharp.

Caitlyn thought about this for a second. She certainly hurt, from head to toe. Cautiously she wiggled her toes, moved her legs, then her fingers and arms. Everything seemed to be in one piece.

"N-no. I don't think so," she said finally.

"Then by God you should be!" he exploded, surging to his feet and jeriting her up beside him, his hands tight on her shoulders as he shook her until her hair escaped the ribbon confining it at her nape and the black strands whipped into a cloud around her face.

"Stop!" She tried to jerk away, but his grip was too strong. His eyes were livid.

"You're lucky you're alive to be shaken! No one,
no one,
has ever ridden that horse but me!

It's a bloody miracle he didn't kill you! What maggot got into your brain to make you try such a thing?" He was still shaking her, his words practically hissed through taut lips.

"Would you stop! Oh! I just wanted to learn to ride!" The words tumbled out between shakes.

"You just wanted to learn to ride ..." His voice broke off as though words failed him, and he closed his eyes. The shaking ceased also, although he retained his grip on her shoulders. When he opened his eyes again, those devil's eyes were no longer furious, but merely grim.

"The Lord looks after fools and children, it seems, and fortunately for your hide you're both! Are you determined to get yourself killed? It's a miracle you've survived unharmed so long!"

"There's blood on her leg, Conn." Rory and Mickeen had come panting up just as Connor had hauled her to her feet. Now Rory spoke, his voice concerned. Looking down at herself, Caitlyn saw that there was indeed a spreading bloodstain on the inside of her right thigh.

"She likely cut it on a stone." Sharp-edged stones littered the ground near the wall. Caitlyn glanced at them, then back down at herself. The sight of her own blood spreading on her thigh, combined with the shock of the fall, made her feel suddenly lightheaded. She swayed.

"Look out, she's going to faint!"

Caitlyn shook her head, tiying to clear it. She had never fainted in her life. But before she could regain her equilibrium, Connor, with an explosive, heartfelt curse, swept her up in his arms and stalked back toward the house. Holding her securely against his chest, he told her in no uncertain terms what a nuisance she was. Caitlyn listened with unaccustomed meekness, feeling comforted just to be held in that strong grasp. It was almost worth it. . . .

As he entered the house, Mrs. McFee came to greet him, surprise turning to condemnation when she recognized who it was he held in his arms.

"What's that evil lass done now?" she demanded. "First she leaves a mess in my clean kitchen for me to sweep up, then she—"

"Enough!" Connor silenced her sharply, striding past her. "I'll need bandages and a bowl of warm water. Bring them up, please!"

Mrs. McFee was silenced. Connor climbed the stairs easily, carrying Caitlyn all the way up to her attic bedroom without once seeming short of breath. She twined her arms around his neck for balance, rested her head against the warmth of his chest, and listened contentedly to the beating of his heart. It felt good to know that he was worried about her.

Connor put Caitlyn down on her narrow iron bedstead and reached for the laces at her waist, seemingly intent on removing her breeches himself to inspect the damage. Alarmed at the sudden movement, she widened her eyes and her hands flew to close over his.

"N-no!" she stuttered. As he met her eyes, frowning impatiently, Mrs. McFee entered, huffing and puffing at the climb, the requested water and bandages in her hands.

"Mrs. McFee can help you, then," he said abrupdy, apparently remembering that Caitlyn was a female.

"I can do it myself," Caitlyn said, getting shakily to her feet and retiring behind the screen that shielded one small comer. Mrs. McFee sniffed and took herself off. Connor waited, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Well?" he said finally, when she didn't say anything.

"I seem to be hurt—inside. That's where the blood is coming from." Caitlyn had removed her breeches and drawers and inspected both her thighs and then her stomach and rear as well as she could, but nary a cut had she found. At the thought of how terrible an internal injury she must have suffered to be bleeding so, she felt lightheaded again.

"Inside? Inside where?"

"The blood's coming from my—my privates." The words were tremulous. There was a long silence. His reply, when it came, was oddly gende.

"Caitlyn, lass, could it be your time?"

"My time?" She didn't understand.

"Your woman's time."

"My woman's ..." Her voice failed her. Vaguely she remembered that her mother had bled with clockwork reg- ularity until she had gotten with child. But Caitlyn had never associated such with herself. Hot color stole up her cheeks. She felt hideously embarrassed and also at a loss. What happened now? There was so much blood—how did one make it go away? She had been too young when her mother died to have ever discussed the subject.

Her long silence must have told Connor all he needed to know. She heard a deep, long-suffering kind of sigh, then, "Make yourself decent and come out here."

"No!" Never as long as she lived could she look him in the face again. That he should know such an intimate thing about her was mortifying. She felt shamed, unclean.