Lady of Conquest (20 page)

The wind evaporated the sheen of sweat that covered both of them as she slowed the horse to a trot. Entering the fenced stableyard, she halted the steed and slid off its back, exhausted but happy. She tethered the horse to a post and started inside for a cloth to rub down the animal. She was shocked to find herself firmly gripped by the collar and lifted off the ground.

“You fool! I knew you were dim-witted but I didn’t think you were stupid enough to risk your life and the life of my horse out there in the dark!” It was Conn’s furious voice that spoke. Gelina said a silent prayer and fought to keep her face in shadow.

“I told you to exercise the horse, not drive it to an early grave. Have you taken leave of your senses, boy?” Conn shook her for emphasis, and Gelina thought she was going to choke to death and rather wished she would.

“Answer me when I ask you a question! I know you’re not mute, too.”

The only sound she could utter was a small gagging noise, so Conn lowered her feet to the ground, and she nearly collapsed with the wonder of being able to breathe again. She mumbled something unintelligible and apologetic and pulled the cap forward over her face.

“Speak up, you little jackass. I’ve a good mind to give you the thrashing of your life!” She didn’t have to get a good look at Conn to know when he was serious, and she flinched. “Come outside. Let’s take a look at the damage you’ve done.”

She knew if he got her outside, she wouldn’t stand a chance of camouflage in the bright moonlight, so she planted her feet firmly in the ground and refused to budge as Conn tried to drag her out the door. With a sudden jerk he uprooted her feet, and she grasped the doorframe, holding on with all of her might as he grabbed her around the waist and tugged. He let go as quickly as he had grabbed her. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek against the doorframe, wishing her parents had never met.

“Fine. You can take your thrashing in here.” His voice was quiet but deadly.

With a firm grip on her arm he jerked her around to face him and drew back his hand. Having been on the receiving end of his anger before, she made a frantic choice and with her other arm knocked the cap from her head and faced him, eyes wide with trepidation.

“I was wondering if you were going to let me beat the hell out of you or reveal who you were.” His voice remained soft and dangerous.

“You knew it was me?” She breathed a sigh of relief, then wondered if she should have as she saw the anger still burning bright in his eyes.

“You are a little softer than the stable boy, and I’ve yet to notice him wearing a sandalwood fragrance!” His voice rose to a low roar, and she took a step backward, unable to stop herself.

He glared at her until she began to squirm. “I’ve never taken the horse out on a bad night,” she started. “Why, ‘tis like daylight out there tonight.”

“So you’ve taken my horse out before, have you?” She grimaced, realizing her mistake. “Just where in the hell are the people who are supposed to be watching you in my absence?”

“ ‘Tis not Sean’s fault. I climbed out the window. He could not have known.” She incriminated herself further while attempting to extricate her bodyguard. “I would never hurt Silent Thunder. You’ve got to know that.” She raised her palms in a plea.

“Silent Thunder be cursed! What about you?” He paced the length of the stable, barely controlling his anger.

“Me?” she said weakly.

He turned to face her, eyes merciless. “Do you think I’ve been locked up all day for nothing? Do you think I have patrols circling this fortress for no reason? We have enemies out there.” He gestured to the darkness outside. “Do you have any idea what Eoghan Mogh’s men would do to you if they captured you?”

“I guess I never thought—”

“I guess you never think! If you didn’t step in a bog and break your neck out there, you could be captured and held hostage . . . or worse.” He searched her face to determine if she knew what was worse.

Biting her lip, she slid to a sitting position. “Go ahead and thrash me. I guess I deserve it.” She looked up at him, a stubborn set to her jaw, a mute challenge in her eyes.

“Don’t tempt me. Come. I shall escort you to your chamber, where you shall be spending the next few days.” She refused his outstretched hand and climbed to her feet.

He walked to her chamber without a word, stopping there just long enough to jerk the rope dangling from her bedpost. He tossed it out the window with a meaningful glare.

“You’re to stay in here for three days. Moira will bring you your meals. If I catch you outside, I shall give you that thrashing I promised.” He slammed the door in her face.

She stood in the middle of the room for a moment, staring at the closed door. Walking to the chest, she picked up the ivory hairbrush and hurled it toward the wall, where it crashed with a satisfying bang.

She stared at her tousled reflection in the mirror and began pulling the pearl pins from her hair, sending it tumbling to her shoulders.

* * *

Conn walked slowly to his chambers, feeling cheated of the midnight ride he had anticipated throughout the long day. The fight with Gelina had drained him. Coming back and finding a beautiful, accomplished woman in place of the waif he had left had given him hope that perhaps she had abandoned her less disciplined ways. So much for that hope, he thought, pouring himself a goblet of ale in his bedchamber. He stripped himself of the heavy clothing he had worn all day and wrapped a single piece of linen around his waist.

The day had been a trying one. He had been closed away for long hours compiling a list of any possible traitors to his kingdom. In the thirty days he had spent chained in the hold of the Roman slave ship, he had learned the value of mistrust. With the events of the night fresh in his mind, he sighed as he thought of another name that would be added to the list if the others knew the truth—Gelina Ó Monaghan, murderess of five men of the Fianna. The thought gave him great pain, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep swig of the ale. The numbness it afforded his brain was welcome.

He thought of summoning Sheela but decided that listening to her prattle would not be worth the forgetfulness he would find in her arms. Settling his tired form on the backless couch, he took another deep drink. He was startled when he heard the soft rap on the door.

Opening the door, he took a step backward and put his hands on his hips.

Gelina faced him unblinkingly. “I wanted to show you how I looked in my tiga and I wanted to apologize.”

He poured himself another goblet of ale. “ ‘Tis a toga and I would value your obedience more than your apologies,” he said sharply.

She stepped into the room. Following in his footsteps, she picked up a goblet, blew the dust out of it and held it out for him to fill.

Staring, he said, “I didn’t invite you in, and I certainly didn’t offer you any ale.”

She shrugged and set the goblet down. Her gaze traveled the room, searching for a focal point. His broad chest covered with curling dark hair was making her nervous. Conn watched her, puzzled. The toga draped her tall, lithe form. Her unbound hair fell softly past her shoulders. The gentle fragrance of sandalwood floated toward him, unmarred by the scent of horse. She smiled uncertainly, and he found himself relenting despite his lingering anger.

“Here, drink this,” he commanded. He poured a golden liquid from a separate flagon and handed it to her.

She sipped the mead gratefully, sensing that some of the anger had slipped from his demeanor.

“Conn, I really did come to say that I was sorry. I shall remain in my chamber for three days if you wish, but I cannot bear your anger. I was so restless tonight. I wanted to see you all day but was never allowed to.”

He almost smiled. “It was a dreadful day. You got to the horse before I did. I’m still so tense that I ache all over.”

He sat down on the couch. She sat behind him and began to rub the knotted muscles at the back of his neck. He moaned softly and chuckled. “The gods must have read my mind. I was just wishing for a wife to do that.” Her eyes lit up, and he continued, “I guess a daughter will do just as well, even a stubborn one.” He did not see her smile fade.

She ran one gentle fingertip down his bare back, tracing a fresh scar that marred the muscled flesh. With a soft moan of sympathy her lips brushed his shoulder. Conn was completely unprepared for the shock that traveled down his spine. Standing abruptly, he turned and faced her. She stared at the spot he had vacated, eyes distant.

“Gelina?” he said softly, unsure of her attention.

Looking up at him as if awakening from a trance, she smiled, completely disconcerting him with the unguarded emotion he saw in her face. He strode across the room and stared out the window. A hint of dawn lightened the sky.

“You had better go.” Even he wasn’t sure if it was a warning he heard in his husky voice.

“Yes. Come visit me if you get a chance in the next three days.” She smiled wanly. “Good night.”

He did not turn but continued to stare at the fading stars until he heard the door softly shut. He looked down at his hands. They were trembling.

Gelina felt disoriented as she entered her own room. It was as if some sort of impasse had been reached. Her eyelids grew heavy even as pink clouds began to separate from the blackness of the sky. She headed straight for the bed, not bothering to remove the toga.

Pulling back a coverlet of the softest fox fur, she stared at the round gray object resting on her pillow. Puzzled, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. It was a pendant made of the finest, grayest metal she had ever seen. The locket flew open as her hand inadvertently tripped a spring along its side. A single word had been engraved inside the locket—
Remember.

Awakening early the next afternoon, Gelina felt something soft hit her repeatedly in the stomach. She groaned and opened her eyes with growing suspicion. Nimbus’s twinkling eyes greeted her over the down pillow he was using to batter her. She grabbed the end of the pillow and jerked it out of his hands.

“This is getting redundant, Nimbus. Can’t you let a lass get a decent night’s rest?” She rubbed her eyes irritably.

“A night and half a day’s, you mean. The sun climbed high and started its descent an hour ago.”

“I didn’t get to bed until the sun started that climb.”

“I know.”

She searched his face for laughter but found only concern. Averting her eyes, she wondered what he had concluded.

He clapped his small hands briskly. “I came to get ye. A commotion begins in the courtyard.”

Thankful for the change in subject, she was half out of bed and grabbing for the hairbrush, which still lay in the corner, before she stopped. “What am I thinking of? I cannot go out for three days.”

“Why not?”

She stuck out her lower lip. “I was a bad girl.”

“Who said?” He scowled, ready to slay the villain who had slighted her.

“Our dear lord and master.” Nimbus stood deep in thought, started to speak, then stopped. Gelina continued, “Conn said I must stay in my quarters for three days. You could be in trouble for visiting me.”

“I don’t understand. Conn is the one who sent me to fetch ye.”

Running the brush through her tangled curls, she mused, “Why would he relent? Just what is going on down there?”

He took the brush from her and worked it through her hair. “Ye do not know?” She shook her head, struggling to clear away the fog of sleep. “Let me give ye a hint.” He ran the brush across his throat and made a slicing noise.

“ ‘Tis Ó Caflin’s execution!”

“I’ll wait outside. Hurry and dress,” Nimbus commanded.

Gelina dressed as quickly as possible, then reached beneath her pillow. She breathed a sigh of relief when her fingers brushed the cool metal of the pendant. She knew Conn needed to be told of the mysterious gift, but with their relationship already on shaky ground, she hated to bring up painful memories.

When she finally opened the door, Nimbus practically jerked her out of the room.

True to his word, there was a commotion in the courtyard. A scaffold had been erected in its center and hordes of men, women, and children milled around it. A deafening din arose as they pushed and shoved, vying for better positions. A towering figure stood passively on the scaffold, a black hood covering his features. The hood did little to disguise his bulk.

Nimbus whispered, “Goll MacMorna is chieftain of the Fianna. They wish to denounce Ó Caflin publicly, so Goll performs the execution.”

Gelina remembered a ragged bunch of wildflowers clutched in a hairy fist. She gripped Nimbus’s hand tighter, hardly aware that she did it.

He heard a cry from the tower above them. “Nimbus, bring Gelina.” Sean beckoned them upward. A path cleared before the stairs as the crowd parted to let them through.

Mer-Nod and Sean stood together at the top of the stairs. The poet grumbled as they approached, “You may watch from below, Nimbus. Just leave Gelina with us.”

Nimbus smiled a falsely sweet smile. “Drop dead, eaglehead.”

Conn stood alone at the corner of the tower, staring at the crowd with arms crossed, his face a brooding mask. Gelina pried her hand out of Nimbus’s with a reassuring pat and approached Conn. She touched his arm, and he looked startled to see her.