Time After Time (103 page)

The hint of a smile crossed Shay’s features for a second, and then disappeared.

What else could she say? Her mother and father cared for Megan. The child, almost three years old, did not understand why her mother did not come to the morning nor evening meals.

Already, the sun dipped to the west. Bram had been no use since they returned. After caring for his horse, he had wondered around outside.

“At least eat something,” Kaireen begged.

Her sister resumed her rocking.

Then a knock sounded on the door as though whoever it was held good news instead of the tragedy her sister bore.

Elva entered with a smile. “Out of bed with you, lass. Time for bathing before the meal.”

“My Douglas and son call to me,” she moaned.

“Do not speak nonsense,” Elva chided her. “No excuse got you out of a bath when you were Megan’s age, and it will not now.”

“She has suffered—” Kaireen objected.

“Only prolonged by herself.” Her handmaid looked at her so intently that Kaireen took a step back. “Now, rise or I will lop off your hair.”

Her sister did not respond.

“You want to be bald when you meet your new husband?”

What was Elva speaking of? Already her sister had lost her husband in death, she did not need another.

“Douglas was my love. I will have no other.”

“Aye, but you have been blessed.”

“Blessed?” Kaireen screeched. How could her handmaid be so crude?

“If you are finished, or do you want more trouble from me.” Her handmaid squeezed her hand as though telling Kaireen to keep her mouth closed. “Then I will turn a switch on you myself as your mother so often threatens to do, but never has.”

Kaireen frowned, but nodded. What would her ramblings hurt?

“But I cannot marry. Douglas was my only love.”

“You are blessed, because great love will come twice in your life.”

Shay glared at her.

“’Tis truth I speak. Did I steer you wrong about Douglas?” Elva waited a moment, and then rocked back on her heels. “Now, then, do you want the first memory of you for your new husband to be like this?”

“I lost my love.” She shook her head. “I will not marry again.”

Elva yanked Shay by her hair. Kaireen screamed and pulled her handmaid’s arms. “Aye, Douglas was your night.”

At her words, Shay’s arms fell to her sides.

“But this one will be your day.” She released Shay and held out her hand.

Her sister took it. They strolled down the corridor, to the bathing room.

Kaireen followed them. She would not let her sister drown herself in the bath.

“Where is he?” Shay whispered as if this false husband would leap from the stone walls.

“He comes from across the sea.”

“I get seasick.”

Elva patted her hand as they walked. “A giant of a man. You will tame his tongue to our language, and he will tame your stomach for the sea.”

“But what about my son? Why did he have to die?”

Not looking where she stepped, Kaireen tripped. What would her handmaid say now?

“Was not his time to come yet.”

Tears welled in Shay’s eyes, and Kaireen feared the singing again.

“Yet, the wheel turns right again for you. Your son will return, but he will bring four brothers with him.”

Kaireen shook her head. It was not right for her handmaid to fill her sister’s head with fancies that would not come.

“Each will be born on the sea. One during a storm.”

Inside, Shay undressed. Then she climbed into a steaming tub. “Join me?” she said to Kaireen.

A bath did sound pleasant. She had not bathed since yesterday morning and knew she smelled of the dyes.

“Please, sister,” Shay said. “You smell worse than manure.”

They laughed.

“One moment.” Elva spoke and took Kaireen’s arm. Her handmaid escorted her away from Shay’s hearing. “Do not undo my work.”

“Your work? You mean your ramblings?” She hugged her arms across her stomach. “What happens when this does not come to be?”

“Mark my words, if you throw doubt at Shay, she will die.” Her eyes bored into Kaireen. “The giant will come, and you will see for yourself. For now, trust that my words have healed her, some.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Feoras combed his sandy hair back with his hand. The witch woman’s herbs had not killed his father, but she swore on her screams he would be weakened to the point of death.

Feoras fingered the pearls on his father’s sword hilt. Waited ages for this night. Years of planning, pretending, and now he would have it all.

Everything he wanted rested with this sword. Until tonight, he would conceal the sword’s presence when he returned with it after meeting the Liannon spy. A sliver of the moon cast shadows across the floor.

After supper he added the witch woman’s sleeping powder to the wine jug the guards drank from. With a full stomach of food, the potion would take two hours to take effect, she had said. Plenty of time for them to be stationed at their post and fast asleep. The guards’ sleep would last until dawn.

Enough time to kill and avoid suspicion. The figure in the bed moaned in sleep.

Opened window shutters invited in the night air. Silk drapes around the bed billowed.

The stone floor cooled his feet. Anger built within him, boiled his blood. He adjusted his black linen cloak. How he had dreamed of this, harbored the image of his father’s death for so long.

Drawing the sword from the scabbard, his victim’s sword, shivers raced down his back. When Rhiannon sent word of it in her possession, his heart had leapt with joy. He would avenge the only woman who had ever touched his heart. He did not see what grew there from her bitter touch.

His mother.

Damn his father for ripping their family apart. Feoras brought the tip of the sword’s blade to his lips and then kissed the metal. He could taste the blood of revenge and the wealth of the spoil to come.

Soon, he would bring her back home. His eyes misted over, imagining Rhiannon back home where she belonged.

Feoras smiled.

His brother, Bearach, would demand justice for this—his father’s death. And justice would be taken from the Liannon clan and Kaireen’s fair hide.

To avoid distrust, he would allow his brother a brief rule.

In the distance, an owl hooted and Feoras trembled with excitement. But all the better if Bearach died in battle with the Liannons. Have a hero’s burial and the clan would look to their new laird, Feoras.

He would bring Rhiannon back to the clan, home. Together they would rule both the O’Neill and Liannon lands.

Feoras raised the sword and stalked closer to the bed. His hand trembled as he drew the curtain back from the bed post.

Clouds shifted away from the moon, lighting the room, like the heavens showed the way.

Feoras snarled and drove the sword through the body.

A gasp escaped from the victim. Feeble, wrinkled hands gripped his arms. Recognition of his killer flared in his eyes. Choking on blood, his father struggled to speak, struggled to breathe.

Feoras might end his life sooner. But the pleasure of seeing his father’s pain thrilled him deeper than he imagined.

In his father’s dying eyes, Feoras saw his reflection. Power surged through him as life seeped from his father.

How he longed to prolong this man’s suffering. Watch his beating heart strain to continue. He left the sword in the body, proof of the Liannon clan’s guilt.

Ancient Greek custom called to inhale the last breath of a dying person then you absorb their power, their prestige…like a blessing.

Feoras saw the light fading from the old man’s eyes. So he covered his father’s mouth with his. He inhaled, drawing in the last breath. Holding his father’s breath, he believed the gesture empowered him. His fingers tingled. His father’s blood dripped from his mouth.

This, he received as a blessing from death, of his succession in the clan. Feoras would rule, as his mother promised him.

The first step was completed. His father was dead.

Eventually, he would rule all of Ireland. First would be to break the Liannon clan under his will. Feoras yanked the black hood back and then crept from the room.

A leer froze on his face and he mused if anyone saw his expression, they would run the other way. In his hand he held a torn piece of cloth he stole from the Lochlann the day of the battle they fought for that girl. He left it wedged in the door to his father’s chamber.

Stepping over the sleeping guards, he snuck back into his chambers.

Inside, he undressed. He wiped his mouth and tossed the blood stained cloak into the hearth. The fabric caught on the flames and then crinkled into ash. He removed each garment he wore and threw them one at a time into the flames until he stood naked before the hearth.

All was well. His father was dead. And he was reborn.

Chapter Twenty-two

Since Shay’s stillborn son, Kaireen’s parents had given her a reprieve from her punishment to rest and mourn with her sister. She was allowed three and half days before she would be sent to work at the monastery. In truth, she would have been glad to leave as planned.

No longer did Bram kiss or hold her. For hours at a time, he would disappear, and she found herself wandering the halls unable to sit still. Where did he go? Perhaps he was indeed the spy?

In such a short length of punishment, she had forgotten simple freedoms like having time to herself. She was supposed to be keeping her sister company, but disliked hearing her talk nonstop about her new husband to be and from what country he would be from since they would be on a ship most of their marriage. Kaireen wanted to strangle Elva for putting lunacy into her sister’s head. After she broke her fast with her sister, she could hear no more and would take her leave for the rest of the day. Her sister didn’t seem to mind and would continue her story wherever she had left off the day before the next morning.

In the courtyard, she spotted Bram teaching Megan swordplay. They used wooden swords and she could tell he sometimes let her niece win, and would encourage her when he did not.

“What has you smiling so?,” he asked.

“I’m just remembering my father and how he taught me.”

“With swords?”

“No. Well, a little. It was mostly with the bow. I could shoot any target.” She laughed remembering. “But I could not sew straight no matter how hard I tried. I think because I was strong like the son my father always wanted, he taught me things like archery and a little with the sword. This he never did for my other two sisters. Mother was scandalized when she found out about it.”

“Why? Sometimes it’s best if a woman knows how to fight. In my country we have shieldmaidens who fought in battles and are heard about in our legends and sagas.”

And she had no doubt they did. An image of her and Bram’s daughter, if they were to marry, popped into her thoughts. She would have golden hair like her father and would wield the sword better than him and carry a bow with her everywhere she ran. Kaireen shook her head.

“Care to have a go?” He waggled his sword toward her.

“Why not?”

They spared and joked the afternoon away. Kaireen laughed so much her stomach hurt. But not once did Bram mention their wedding or attempt to kiss her. She felt as if a weight had lifted off her shoulders.

• • •

More and more Bram filled Kaireen’s thoughts during the days and nights. She would now wake in the middle of the night and long for his arms around her as he had in her dream. Since the day of Shay’s stillborn lost on the cliffs, he had not once tried to touch her. She missed his kisses more than she wanted to admit. Now there was less than a day left before she would complete her time at the monastery. Her parents were throwing another dance this evening to send her off for her last punishment before she was to marry. They still had not relented in their wishes.

Elva dressed her in an emerald gown that hung too low for her tastes. She colored when she wondered what Bram would think of the dress. After her hair was tied back, she stood. This would be the last night she would see Bram for days. Part of her was relieved, but another part buried deep inside her missed him already. She thought about bringing her dagger, but dismissed the idea. With Bram recent actions as though resigned not to touch her body or lips, she did not think it necessary to bring the blade to the evening meal.

At the great hall, Kaireen picked at her food. Bram sat at another table with Rebecca on his right. She was back at her parent’s high table. They did not seem concerned that he did not eat the evening meal with them. After what seemed like the meal was never going to end, the servants moved the lower tables and the musicians set up for the dance. She waited for Bram to come to her and ask for a dance, but he did not. Instead, he danced with Rebecca and Kaireen’s mother. Whatever he said to them made both women laugh, but it was when Rebecca giggled and put her hand on his shoulder that Kaireen stomped toward them.

“I think your leine is showing.” She snapped at Rebecca.

Embarrassed, the woman scuttled off to tend her dress.

Alone except for the other dancers and musicians, Kaireen nodded to Bram and waited for him to take her hand and continue the dance. When he bowed slightly and left her, she gaped after him.

He went to the balcony where he had first tried to kiss her. Smoothing down her skirts, she followed him.

“I still think about that night when we were here last. Do you?” She bumped against his shoulder.

Only the sounds of a wood grouse, crickets, and the lively tune from inside answered.

“Bram?” Trepidation flooded her.

“I was going to tell you tomorrow, but it’s probably best that you know it now.”

He took a breath and Kaireen felt as if she stopped. A gnawing fear inside her made her want to double over, but she locked her legs.

“I have wronged you.” He held up a hand at the shake of her head. “In my country we believe that an individual’s freedom can overshadow the rights of kings. Even though I am no king, I have not given you your freedom to choose. Consistently you have told me that you do not wish to marry me. I’ve only wished to make you happy, and it is evident to me now that I cannot. I will honor your wishes and I release you from our marriage commitment.”