Lady of Conquest (35 page)

They were inseparable. Conn would touch her a hundred times a day and then move on, unaware himself of the strength he obtained from their subtle contact. A soft touch on her hand would be followed by a gentle correction of her disheveled curls. Gelina knew him well enough by now to know that it was also his way of saying that she was his, just as Erin was his. To her own surprise, she did not resent it.

They existed from moment to moment, awaiting the hour when they could retreat to their bedchamber and close out the questioning eyes. Gelina would laughingly resist his advances, knowing he still reveled in the thrill of the hunt. But always would follow the tender yielding that left them breathless and sated, arms and legs entwined in exhausted slumber, her lips pressed to the thundering pulse at the side of his throat. On some nights they simply lay holding each other like children who were afraid in the darkness of the night.

Gelina awoke one night to the sound of broken sobbing, her brother’s name a whisper on her lips. She felt Conn’s hands stroking her and realized that the bitter sobs were her own. She began to speak softly as he kissed away the tears streaming down her cheeks, speaking of that which they had never dared to speak of.

“I dreamed of Rodney. I dreamed he was trying to hurt me. I know he would never, ever hurt me.”

Conn pulled her to him; his eyes stared blindly into the darkness as he struggled to understand her broken words.

“We were so close during those poor years in the cavern. We had only each other and our dreams of vengeance to sustain us through those terrible days and nights. Somehow we made it bearable. We made it an adventure.”

She paused for a long moment with only a sniff to break the silence. “Nimbus didn’t lie, you know. Rodney did watch me. I would glance up to find his eyes on me. They were starving eyes, and they made me afraid. Why was he bad, Conn? I awoke one day, and he wasn’t good anymore. Was it my dream of revenge that poisoned him? Was it me? Why didn’t I see it coming? Why didn’t I stop it?” She sobbed brokenly, burying her face against his softly furred chest.

He spoke, his eyes bitter with empathy. “You couldn’t have stopped it, Gelina. I, too, awoke one morning to find Rory Ó Monaghan an enemy. I never saw it coming. He fed me. His pretty wife sang ballads for me. He confided his deepest secrets and drew mine from me. But I couldn’t see. I was as blind as you were, my dear.” He kissed her ear softly. “But now our eyes are open and we see only each other, as it was meant to be.”

He rolled her to her back and studied her to see if the accusations he made against her father disturbed her. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her before he could read the fear in her shadowed eyes. They kissed and, in the tender depths of their love, pushed away the doubt that lay nestled in the darkest recesses of their hearts.

Gelina was strolling through the great hall the next morning when a body dropped from a noose above her head. Tiny feet dangled inches from her nose.

An infuriated shriek escaped her lips. “Curses, Nimbus. You’ll frighten me to an early grave.” She pulled off a sandal and drew back her arm.

He opened one eye and winked at her. “Don’t ye dare, Gelina. An accomplished jester must practice. I’m working up this routine for Eoghan Mogh’s burial. Do ye like it? Fitting, is it not?”

Her only response was a black glare.

“So sorry. I forgot he was an acquaintance of yers. Be a good lass, and climb up here and get me down.”

His request met pointed silence. Gelina crossed her arms and smiled sweetly.

“Please, milady?” he asked with a supplicant look from his earnest brown eyes.

With a disgusted snort she stomped up the stairs to the platform. Resting on her stomach, she hauled him up by the braided rope. She sat with legs crossed and watched him remove his gear.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

Removing his jacket, he revealed a harness fashioned of narrow strips of leather that crossed his chest. “Do ye see this?” He held out the harness and pointed to an oblong brass charm with a narrow strap pulled through it.

She turned it over in her hand. “What does it do?”

“It saves me life. It makes sure that the harness catches me before the noose does. See the engraving. I did that meself.”

“What does the crown stand for?”

“Nimbus—Ard-Righ of the Jesters. What else?”

Gelina shook her head, her eyes roaming the deserted hall below. “Tell me, sire, where have all your subjects gone on this gloomy afternoon?”

“Conn did not tell ye?”

Gelina shook her head.

Nimbus stood and paced the small confines of the platform. Gelina hid a smile as he rubbed his chin in a perfect imitation of Conn deep in thought.

He turned to her with a frown. “The Fianna have just dismissed their court.”

“Conn spoke of no court. What is their case?” Before he could answer, she breathed, “‘Tis Eoghan, is it not? ’Tis why Conn did not tell me. Is Eoghan well? Is he alive?”

“For now.”

“They have sentenced him to death?” Gelina knelt and took Nimbus by the shoulders. “Tell me. What is his sentence?”

Nimbus sighed. “Conn and Eoghan will meet in battle this afternoon in a meadow a few leagues from here.”

Gelina’s eyes clouded. “That is impossible. Eoghan is no match for Conn. Conn knows that. Why, I told him . . .” She grasped Nimbus’s tunic with frantic hands. “Where are they going? You must take me there.”

Nimbus jerked his tunic from her hands and smoothed his lapel. “I cannot take ye there. Only the Fianna are to be in attendance. Conn would be furious.”

Gelina’s eyes narrowed with a wicked glint. “That’s stopped neither you nor me before.”

A smile rose unbidden to Nimbus’s lips. He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “We must hasten to get there before they do.” He stood and offered her his arm, stumbling as she jerked him toward the steps.

Mer-Nod dismounted from the mare and whipped his feathered cloak behind him. A silence as heavy and still as the damp air fell upon the meadow with only the soft nicker of a horse to break it. Gray and black clouds split the late afternoon sky. All bloodlust had been carefully erased from the seasoned faces turned to Mer-Nod. The men invited to attend the battle had been handpicked from the experienced ranks of the Fianna. They had ridden to the meadow through the shadow of a damp forest to witness the final battle between their king and the man who had been his enemy for almost a quarter of a century.

A low murmur rose as Silent Thunder pranced out from the trees. Conn sat on the stallion’s back in the full leather of a warrior, his face drawn. Sean Ó Finn followed on foot, the unlined smoothness of his young brow strangely out of place. Mer-Nod studied his king, committing each detail to loving memory so his vision of this day could be recreated in a poem written by candle-light late that night. What he failed to see in his careful scrutiny were the two who perched on a sturdy branch above his head.

Gelina clutched the rough oak with one hand and Nimbus’s tunic with the other. Crouched on the narrow limb overhanging the meadow, she struggled to keep her balance and hide herself in the damp and dying leaves, a feat that was far more difficult for her than it was for Nimbus, who sat in comparative comfort on the branch. He shot her a look of amused annoyance as she jerked his tunic, disturbing his own balance. Her skirts tangled around her ankles.

Her attention was drawn from her discomfort as Conn dismounted and raised his hands in a plea for a silence he already had. Nimbus’s heart twisted as he saw the look in her eyes when they rested on Conn. He averted his own eyes and watched the proceedings below with interest.

Conn signaled and Sean Ó Finn disappeared into the forest to reappear with his prisoner. Eoghan Mogh walked into the meadow without introduction. As the voices rose, it was obvious that he needed none.

Gelina peered at the man who had been her friend a lifetime ago. His angular frame was thinner than she remembered. She could read no signs of starvation or maltreatment in his pallid face, but she could see that the weeks in the dungeon had taxed his strength. She flinched at the thick chains binding his wrists. Even from where she perched, she could see the raw flesh festering under the iron links. His eyes beneath their dark brows glittered as they surveyed the warriors with contempt, finally coming to rest on Conn.

Conn returned his gaze for a long moment before clearing his throat for silence.

“You know who this man is. I won’t bother listing his accomplishments. Instead, I will list his crimes.” Conn pushed away the parchment Mer-Nod pulled from his cloak, desiring no script. “He is a traitor to the kingdom of Erin. He has undermined every effort to unite this country. He has slaughtered both my soldiers and innocent citizens who opposed his greedy plans to conquer Tara by forcing men into his service and stealing their gold. He has been a thief in the night and a bane on our land.”

Angry voices rose. Eoghan stood impassive before Conn’s charges, an eerie dignity clinging to his tall frame.

“He poisoned our men and cut their throats when they were helpless!” a voice bellowed from the soldiers who ringed them.

Another soldier waved his fist. “My clan was forced to give up a fortune in gold when Mogh’s pigs came knocking at their door. They threatened to take my brother’s youngest daughter for sport if he did not yield to their demands. She was just a child!”

The man next to him nodded. “He stole away a girl from this very fortress. Forced the fair Gelina to ride astride and join his bandits. Only our king’s timely intervention saved her from a terrible fate.”

Gelina choked as she saw Eoghan meet Conn’s gaze evenly. She realized with horror that Eoghan could condemn her for many of the crimes that had just been attributed to him. Conn would be helpless to defend her. Eoghan did not speak but smiled faintly at Conn’s deepening pallor.

Conn drew his sword from his scabbard with an uneven movement. “Unchain him,” he commanded Sean Ó Finn.

Without allowing herself a second to change her mind, Gelina swung down from the branch, ignoring Nimbus’s frantic clutch at her skirt. She landed gracefully on her feet before the shocked men.

She faced Eoghan and Conn. “I beg pardon, sire. I wanted to witness the battle so I hid up there.” She gestured to the branch where a petrified jester had plastered himself, hidden from the astonished upward glances. “I lost my balance and I fear I find my shelter lost also.” She spread her skirts and curtsied with an unabashedly charming smile. Conn sheathed his sword.

Eoghan took two steps toward her. Conn moved behind her. His hands fell on her shoulders in a possessive grip.

She was the only one who heard the prisoner’s whispered words as he leaned forward. “You wear his love well, Gelina. It suits you.”

She smiled through the tears that sprang to her eyes, knowing as she heard his familiar, lilting words that Eoghan would never betray her. She was oblivious to the hostile looks Eoghan’s apparent intimacy drew from the men. Conn turned her around to face him.

His voice was steely as he pointed to a vacant space in the crowd. “You are here. You may as well stay.” The ominous slant of his eyebrows left little doubt he would deal with her later. She curtsied again and stepped back.

Conn paced a few feet away, forming his words with care. “Do you have anything to say in your defense, Eoghan Mogh?”

“I cannot be a traitor to a kingdom I have never sworn allegiance to. My desire to rule Erin is as valid as yours,” Eoghan answered, his voice a chiming bell in the muted silence.

A furious roar erupted. Conn stepped forward, raising his arms once more for silence.

“I have decided to give you what you gave me when you sold me to the Roman slavers—a chance.” Conn circled Eoghan, his hands locked behind his back. “Your men are not here now. If you want to steal my kingdom, then you’d best be prepared to fight for it yourself.”

A cheer rose at Conn’s words. Sean unlocked Eoghan’s chains with a flick of his wrist, and the irons fell into the damp grass. Eoghan rubbed his wrists, his veiled eyes never leaving Conn.

Gelina bit her lip to keep from crying out as Sean slapped the hilt of a sword into Eoghan’s palm.

Conn’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, then paused. “I know many of you wanted the death penalty for this man. But I could not grant it.” Knowing Conn as she did, Gelina could see that his next words would cost him dearly.

“We all know the meaning of the word
clansman.
We know the responsibility it entails.” He pointed at Eoghan. “This man knows the burden it carries. When our ship bound for Britain was set upon by his pirates, he left strict orders as to my disposal. I was not to be killed. I was to be sold to the Roman slavers he had sent to the scene of his treachery. My blood would not stain his hands.” He stared at Eoghan, eyes narrowed. “He did this because he is my clansman. He is the son of my mother’s sister, and if his blood must stain my hands, it will be in a fair fight.”

The meadow exploded in cries of disbelief. Gelina stared between the two of them in wonder. She remembered with shock the way that Eoghan had laughingly studied her and knew whom he had so painfully called to mind.

“I want silence!”