Lady of Conquest (38 page)

“And those weren’t hers,” Conn murmured. He raised his hand in silent greeting as Gelina looked up at them and touched two fingers to her lips.

He groaned, and Sean patted him on the shoulder. “Do not fret, Conn. Tonight is the last night. I shall be outside your door to ensure you do not weaken.”

“Stay alert, Sean. I might sneak up behind you and knock you unconscious.”

“I shall be alert. I’m as worried about her hitting me upside the head as I am you. I would be hard-pressed to knock her out.” They both laughed, and Sean pulled him away from the window.

Gelina entered the great hall that evening, tripping over the trained marmosets that somersaulted across the floor at their master’s command. She untangled herself and gazed around her, eyes wide with wonder.

Scattered among the faces of those she knew were strangers garbed in exotic hues and fabrics. The finest men and women in Erin would feast at Conn’s table tonight. Many had been kings themselves before choosing to ally themselves with the Ard-Righ. Curious eyes gazed back at her. Her heart raced in excitement as she realized her wedding day was only hours away.

The hall was a study in joyful chaos as goblets were filled to the brim, drained, and filled again. Gelina made her way to her table, winding among the jesters and acrobats with care. Her table was opposite Conn’s, close enough to allow them an occasional wink but no words. Moira’s considerable bulk was already stationed in the chair next to hers to ensure that nothing more than tortured glances would be exchanged. Gelina sat, arranging the voluminous pink satin of her smock around her.

She jumped as a trumpet fanfare sounded to announce the king’s entry. Conn entered, bowing as he traveled the path that cleared to his table. Only Gelina caught the silent words on his lips as he raised his goblet in a toast.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, only to find her leg soundly pinched between Moira’s sturdy fingers. She looked away, rubbing her leg under the table.

Servers moved between the tables, offering treats of seasoned prawns soaked in butter, and warm spiced ale. Gelina’s healthy appetite disintegrated as anticipation settled gleefully in her stomach, leaving little room for anything else. She poked at the steaming prawn on her plate with indifference and sipped the ale.

Another group of servers appeared from the kitchen, bearing trays laden with steaming plum tarts. Gelina smiled as she watched a small boy fondle each tart on the platter before choosing one, his eyes wide with delight.

A haunting whistle from the table behind her drifted over her shoulder like a cloak of uneasiness. She turned, drawn by the lullaby. A server worked behind her, his back solidly presented to her curious gaze.

“Tart, milady?” He whirled around, holding out the platter.

The floor beneath her feet tilted as she stared into her brother’s mocking eyes. The dark beard that covered his chin did little to hide his cold smile. Before she could catch her breath or speak or scream, he was gone, weaving through the tables without a backward glance.

Gelina turned back to the table and drained her ale in one drink. Turning to Moira in desperation, she found her deep in conversation with the woman next to her. She sat with hands clasped in her lap for a moment, the laughing voices fading to a dim roar. She rose, ignoring Moira’s curious stare, and started for the door. Her eyes wide, she shot Conn a quick look before vanishing from sight in the crowd.

Conn stood, only to find Sean’s hand firm on his shoulder.

His man-at-arms laughed. “That trick will not work, Conn. I am sure some bit of food just disagreed with her.”

Conn sat down with reluctance, certain he had seen a plea for help in Gelina’s wide eyes and ashen cheeks. He shook off the chill that traveled down his spine, attributing it to jitters.

The courtyard was deserted. Gelina caught an elusive flash of white linen from the corner of her eye as a figure rounded the stable. Following it without thought, she found herself face to face with Rodney. The eaves cast menacing shadows over the lean planes of his face. She took a step backward without realizing it. He stood with arms crossed, leaning against the stable wall.

“Greetings, little sister. I regret to disturb your feast.”

She stopped in her tracks, biting her lip to keep silent.

“Whatever is the matter? Surprised to find me alive? Or didn’t you bother to ask anyone what happened to me after we laid grand and glorious siege to Tara?”

“I asked. No one knew. Eoghan never saw you after you entered the fortress with me,” she replied, struggling to keep the fear out of her voice. “What are you doing here?”

He spread his arms in mock innocence. “You have to ask? I could not miss the grandest wedding this country has seen. Surely you would not deny me the witness of my only sister’s oaths.”

“I would. I want you to go.”

“I am going. I am leaving Erin. A ship awaits me at the coast. I will not be back. Not ever. I thought you might want to go with me.” He stretched out a hand and rubbed her cheek. “You cannot go through with this farce.”

She jerked away from his hot touch. “I belong here, Rodney. ‘Tis where I belonged from the beginning.”

He cursed. “That vermin has cast some sort of spell over you. I know he makes you say these things. He has made you into his whore.”

Gelina slapped him hard, the sound echoing through the empty courtyard. He stared at her in amazement with the wounded eyes of the one who knew her best, then dropped his head in defeat. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Forgive me, Rodney. I know we have suffered through so much together, but it is time to let the old dreams die. They were wrong.” She grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “You must understand. You must not destroy this. To destroy this is to destroy me. You must leave this place.”

He leaned against the stable, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “I ask one thing, Lina.”

She awaited his request with dread, wiping the falling tears away with the back of her hand.

“I want to stay and witness your nuptials. I cannot bear to leave without that small memory to see me through the dark days and years ahead.”

She turned away, her voice a whisper. “If Conn recognizes you, I will not be responsible.”

He nodded, and she turned toward the lights of the fortress.

“Princess,” he called after her. She stopped and turned, her back straight. “Remember . . .” With a sad smile he bowed to her before stalking into the darkness.

* * *

So Gelina remembered. The chamber she had occupied as Conn’s foster daughter held her memories. She sat on the hard floor wearing only her shift and hugging her knees. The dark, still hours of early morning shielded her as she wracked her mind to remember.

She remembered the handsome young warrior who had visited her father. Standing on tiptoe, she would peer over the edge of her father’s gem-encrusted chess-board, feeling invisible until the warrior would reach out and tweak her nose. She would run squealing from the room, only to return a moment later and repeat the game.

Then the arguments began. A closed door greeted her when she sought to intrude on her father’s games. Leaning against the heavy door, she would listen to the bitter words and accusations, not understanding but knowing that the warrior’s eyes were like blue ice when he stormed out of the castle without a word to her or Rodney. What had Conn’s orders been to those brutal men? Had he sought to close forever her small emerald eyes? With a shudder she remembered the deadly force of Conn’s anger, which she had come to know firsthand.

Yet Conn had protected her again and again. He was protecting her now. Nimbus’s diversions and games could not hide that there were those who believed her a traitor, could not shield her from the hostile glares. She shifted, fighting exhaustion, and wondered if Conn was still awake.

Smiling sleepily, she remembered his words to her as he pulled her into his chamber one rainy afternoon— “I’ve got to have you. I cannot stay away from you. I want you every way I can.” Was this the same man who had ordered her returned to him dead or alive only months before?

“Too many questions,” she murmured.

She slipped the rumpled satin over her head and laced it with sure fingers. Stepping into the corridor, she looked both ways. The hallway was deserted, the only sound a raspy snore that floated out from the chamber opposite hers. She crept through the corridor, suppressing a groan as she rounded the corner in front of Conn’s chambers to find Sean leaning on the door. She ducked back around the corner.

“No, you don’t, Gelina,” Sean called out.

She peeked sheepishly around the corner. “I must see him, Sean.”

He chuckled. “He’s already been out twice trying to convince me he must see you. The two of you are incorrigible. The answer is no.”

“You do not understand, Sean. ‘Tis . . .”

“. . . a matter of life and death,” he finished. “The answer is still no. You will be married in a few hours. Surely you can wait.”

She shook her head in defeat. “Will you be here all night?”

He nodded.

She put a hand on his arm. “Guard him well, Sean. Give him a message from me, please?”

“What do you want me to tell him?”

She frowned. “Tell him to take care.”

“ ‘Tis an odd message for a prospective bridegroom,” he said, sensing the trepidation in her touch. She shrugged and turned away.

“Gelina, the reason I cannot let you see him is because it could bring down the wrath of the gods and cause terrible things to happen,” he called after her.

“Terrible things?” she murmured. She laughed aloud as she rounded the corner, leaving Sean to stare after her.

* * *

Conn watched the door with curiosity as it crept open inch by inch. He made no attempt to hide his sigh of disappointment as Nimbus’s tousled head appeared in the crack.

“Sean said I could come in if ye weren’t sleeping,” Nimbus said, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Do I look like I am sleeping?” Conn got to his feet and stretched, stifling a yawn. Taking Nimbus by the shoulders, he steered him to the window. “Look at that sunrise, Nimbus. That sun is rising on my wedding day. From this day forward, Gelina Ó Monaghan will be mine.”

Nimbus did not reply.

Conn studied him with concern, fearful of his uncharacteristic silence. “I have a feeling that you did not come here to congratulate me, friend.”

Nimbus shrugged. “I congratulate ye, but there is another matter I would like to discuss.”

Conn gestured to a chair and settled himself on the couch, pulling a tunic over his bare chest.

Nimbus ignored the chair. “It has occurred to me that Gelina has no family to ensure the right decision has been made,” he said.

“We are her family, Nimbus. You know that. If you’ve come to speak on her behalf, then do so,” Conn said with a puzzled frown.

“Thank ye, sire,” Nimbus said with a trace of his old sarcasm.

Conn smiled faintly, unsure if he should be angry or amused.

“Gelina is very special,” Nimbus said. “I just want to be sure ye know that.”

“I wouldn’t be marrying her if I didn’t. Do you believe I harbor poor intentions toward her? Do you think the Ard-Righ of Erin is a poor choice for her husband?”

“If ye’re asking me whether I’d rather see her as yer paramour or yer wife, I think ye know the answer.” Nimbus held up a hand for silence as Conn stood. “In the past ye’ve shown a certain lack of insight into her situation. I don’t want it to happen again.”

Conn paced the length of the room before turning on him. “Thank you very much, Nimbus. I am sure a court jester is qualified to give me the wedding counsel I did not ask for.” He bowed mockingly. “There are things between Gelina and me that you have no inkling of.”

“Like the fact that she murdered soldiers of the Fianna?”

Conn paled. “How did you know that?”

“I didn’t until just now.”

Conn sat, his legs weak.

“Are ye sure it is behind ye, Conn? She was just a child. Have ye really forgiven her? Will ye treat her well as yer wife and never look at her with accusing eyes?”

Conn met his gaze, the stark emotion in his eyes giving Nimbus the answer he sought. “I love her,” he said hoarsely.

A grin spread across Nimbus’s face. “That was all I needed to know. Just remember, Conn”—he walked to the door and bowed; a bouquet of roses appeared in his pudgy hand—“everything is not always what it appears to be.”

With an enigmatic smile he tossed the roses to Conn and slipped from the room.

A beam of sunlight danced across Gelina’s face. Her eyes flew open. The sluggish residue of sleep vanished as she leapt out of bed and ran to the window, drawing in a quick breath at the beauty of the morning. Not one cloud scarred a sky that was the sapphire blue of Conn’s eyes. The warm sun fell across her cheeks, banishing the shadowy fears that had haunted her only hours before. Oblivious to the chill that clung to her bare feet, she danced around the room, arms extended to an imaginary lover. She stopped abruptly in front of the mirror.