Authors: Brit Darby
“Retired for the night. I thought I would linger and read.”
Liam turned back and planted himself before the fire, legs astraddle. He rubbed his hands briskly over the fire’s heat. “’Tis raining again, and a night fit for no living thing to be about.” He frowned, disgusted at his words. Saints preserve him, but here he was, making small talk like a courtly fop.
“Perhaps a good book by the fire would help banish the chill,” Alianor said, and fell silent. She blushed and seemed embarrassed by her suggestion.
Liam found the touch of rose painting her cheeks quite fetching by firelight. “I do know how to read, milady. I’m not an illiterate bastard. Only an ordinary one.”
His teasing caused the stain to spread across her face and down her neck. She bit her lower lip, whether due to his cheekiness or another reason he couldn’t tell.
“I didn’t mean —” she began.
He interrupted to spare them both further discomfort. “What are you reading?”
It seemed a harmless question, yet it appeared to cause her pain. Her hand gently caressed the pages of the book, as if it was a treasure. “
Beowulf
. One of Walter’s favorites. I found it amongst the books left in the abbey library.”
He recited quietly:
“
And a young prince must be prudent like that/giving freely whilst his father lives/so that afterwards in age when fighting starts/steadfast companions will stand by him and hold the line. Behavior that’s admired ’tis the path to power among people everywhere
…”
Liam trailed off when Alianor stared at him in surprise.
“You know it?”
“Aye, and I have many books in my rooms. Feel free to borrow any you’d like. And,” he continued hesitantly, “may I say, I am sorry for your loss.”
She looked away. “It’s kind of you.”
“What else troubles you this night?” he asked, sensing something more.
Alianor hesitated. “Edie,” she said, glancing at him with trepidation. “My maidservant, Edie …”
“The girl who escaped?” Another look of surprise made him chuckle. “Aye, I knew. I saw tracks and judged by the size they belonged to a woman. And, I am not so unworldly I do not know a proper lady does not travel alone. But, I decided it was not worth the bother to kidnap her as well. De Lacy’s affianced was the real prize, a mere servant not worth the effort of pursuit.”
As soon as he spoke the words, Liam realized how callous he sounded. And when the worry in Alianor’s eyes remained, he understood this damsel was close to her heart. “I did not mean to sound so unfeeling,” he confessed, regretting his casual dismissal of her servant and the danger she had been put in.
“Rest easy, milady,” he felt a bit ridiculous explaining, but stumbled on, “I had one of my men follow the girl to make certain she arrived safe at the inn.” Liam cleared his throat, hoping to clear away the awkwardness.
“Thank you.”
“Despite how it may appear, I am not without conscience. I do not murder women.”
“Oh? You only kidnap them?”
Her retort was much more hurtful to him than it should have been, and he added in a harsher tone, “’Twas foolish to send her off on her own.”
Alianor stiffened. “I intended to follow Edie and escape. But I was encumbered …”
The image of their first meeting came to mind, bringing a slight smile to his lips. “I remember. It seems your skirts were twisted about you in a most delightful, but
encumbering
way.”
Only the return of a slight blush to her cheeks told Liam she, too, remembered the circumstances of their first meeting. She sought distraction. “Edie is safe and no harm has come to her?”
“Aye. I was told by the man who owns
The Black Swallow
the girl arrived safe and sound. She was scared and exhausted, but uninjured. By now, she is on her way back to England. Very little happens in these hills I do not know about, milady.”
“Thank you,” she whispered again, and this time Liam was surprised by the sincerity in her voice — almost as surprised as he was by the genuine concern in his own.
A
LIANOR FOUND
L
IAM’S PRESENCE
disturbing. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “Speaking of princes — why does Felicity claim you are one?”
His derisive snort brought her gaze back to him. His expression seemed a mixture of annoyance and mirth. “Our Felicity believes in faeries and the Little Folk. Do not pay her any mind.”
“Do you mean to say she’s mad?”
He shrugged. “What you call mad in England is probably dubbed high spirits in Eire. Anyway, I would not encourage her flights of fancy if I were you.”
“Well, she obviously believes you are this Emerald Prince.” Alianor wondered if she headed down a dangerous path, but found it better than baring her grief to a stranger.
“I’m not a prince of anything, milady —” Liam paused to reconsider and added, “— unless a Prince of Wolves.” For some reason he was amused by the notion, and his laughter echoed in the large room, and Alianor shivered. The rich velvet warmth of his laugh was even more pleasing than the fire she sat beside.
“Wolves? I do not understand.”
“Nay,” Liam muttered, suddenly sober. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
Alianor felt a flash of anger and shut her book with a snap. “Please explain it to me, if you would be so kind.”
He shrugged. “Word came today your Lord de Lacy put a Writ of Outlawry on me.”
“He’s not
my
lord,” Alianor protested.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “
Caput gerat lupinum
. ’Tis a common law proclamation, any man so labeled can be hunted and killed on sight, like a wild animal. A wolf in fact. De Lacy offers a generous reward to whoever brings my head to him.”
“You made the choice to risk misfortune when you waylaid my retinue,” she said. She heard him slowly exhale at her words.
“You assume we enjoy life as outlaws?”
There was a slight catch in Liam’s voice; his eyes darkened. Alianor blinked and hesitated, but felt she must be honest. “We all have choices in what we do. You chose to be thieves and cutthroats — not honorable nor noble endeavors, no matter your reasons. Frankly, this island seems overrun with men like you, all claiming they do it for Ireland.”
He took a step towards her, his look so menacing she had the impulse to flee. Yet she remained in place, with only
Beowulf
to defend her.
“I warned you before not to speak of things you know nothing about.”
“Then pray enlighten me, O, Emerald Prince!” The moment the sarcasm left her lips she regretted it, but he was already pacing, much like a caged wolf might do.
“I shall indeed. For what can you, a wealthy, spoiled
Sassenach
, know of a life so hard, so full of despair your only means of livelihood is to become a hunted animal?” He raked a hand through his thick black hair as he paced back and forth. “What of the farmer left so little after paying feudal taxes he cannot feed his family? He soon plants his children in the fields he once sowed with grain. Should he have chosen to stay and die as well? Or the iron monger whose sons are taken from him, forced to serve a foreign king who cares nothing for Eire and her people?
“Lackland levies harsh taxes on the Irish barons, bleeding all dry in the down trickle, merely to pay for his whims of wars and whores …” Liam stopped and turned on her, his stare piercing. “Tell me true, milady,” his words dripped contempt, “are
you
one of the King’s whores, bought and paid for with Irish blood?”
Alianor felt as if he’d slapped her in the face and reeled from the ugliness of his words. She trembled with the anger and hurt rioting inside her. Licking the dryness from her lips, she raised her chin.
“No. I refused to be King John’s leman, thus the
choice
I made in defying him brought me low. He cast me off to de Lacy, like a bone to a cur.”
Liam looked doubtful. “You are here because I am a thief and I stole you. Remember, I am the real cur, an Irish wolf who steals brides in the night.”
“Are you so vain you believe I am in this situation only because of you? My fate,” she threw up her hands in exasperation, “was determined by harsher hands than yours. It’s much more than you and your paltry ransom scheme at work here. And likewise, why do you assume I happily marry
Le Anguille
? A man of foul reputation?”
It obviously had not occurred to Liam to question the reasons behind her marrying the Norman. He frowned. “So, you are claiming —”
“Yes, I’m only here because I enraged the King of England. Wedding de Lacy is my punishment.”
He studied her, but did not seem to read the desperation in her eyes. He shook his head. “You’re not the type of woman to cave to any man’s demands, king or no. Or be led like a lamb to slaughter. Why would you willingly go to de Lacy’s bed?”
“Why should you care? My reasons are my own and not your concern. But be well warned, the King is the vilest of men. What man breaks a promise to a dying man …” her voice trailed off. She fought back tears and found herself nervously twisting her wedding band about her finger under his intense stare. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Though lo, I should not have been surprised — after all, he was in truth, the cause of it.”
“Speak up, woman,” Liam’s irritable demand broke through her painful reverie. “What are you saying?”
“Nary a thing,” she shook her head, trying to clear it of memories. “Go on, ransom me. Get whatever you can from de Lacy to help your people. All will be right again in the world.”
Something flickered in his eyes. More than firelight. Something like — pain. “I do not think anything can ever be right in my world.”
Alianor rose to leave, clutching the book to her breast. “I am sorry for my outburst.” She took a deep breath. “’Twas wrong of me to speak so harshly. Apologies.”
He did not reply. Alianor did not wait for him to speak again, but turned and fled into the bowels of the abbey.
“G
OLIATH, MY FRIEND.
H
OW
are you?” Alianor cooed at the hooded bird on her wrist. She had found the cage awaiting her when she took up residence in one of the cells of the old abbey. Niall must have left it there, and she was glad for the thoughtful act. Once more, she examined the bird carefully, checking to make certain he’d survived the rough trip and a stranger’s care without harm. She found him no worse for wear and felt relieved.
She stroked the bird’s sleek feathers. “I missed you.”
Goliath gave a faint cry in response.
“Sounds like he missed you, too.”
Alianor turned and found Liam had entered her cell. The rush of emotions he provoked unsettled her. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Faith, have you taken to sneaking up unawares on ladies?”
A frown crossed his face at her remark, and his eyes darkened as she noticed they were wont to do when he was provoked. “I was not
sneaking
. If you recall,” he added, “this is
my
home. I go where I please.”
Flushing at his quiet rebuke, Alianor changed the subject. She glanced around and countered, “I see no guards in evidence. Isn’t the mighty Prince of Wolves afraid his prey will try and escape?”
He shrugged. “Where?”
“Point taken.”
A faint smile crossed his lips. “Do you hunt with your tercel, milady?”
“Goliath is more of a pet. You asked before my Christian name, if you wish, you may call me Alianor. I see no need to stand on formality, considering …”
He tilted his head, regarding her with caution. “A generous gesture to extend a wolf.”
“If it softens your growl, mayhap it’s not wasted.”
He chuckled. “Then you must call me Liam.”
The timber of his voice softened, deepened in tone. It was sensual, Alianor thought, and its intensity touched her like whispered words of love. Thankfully, a movement beside him distracted her. The largest dog she had ever seen, a brindle-colored behemoth, padded into her cell and stopped beside Liam. The animal sat on its haunches and yawned, its massive head reaching his elbow.
Liam scratched the dog behind her ear. “This is Turrean. She is also a pet of sorts.”
“She’s beautiful,” Alianor whispered, drawn to the liquid golden-brown eyes watching her. “I’ve never seen a dog so enormous. Why, she’s the size of a pony.”
“Aye. She’s
Cú Faoil
, a wolfhound.”
She had heard tales of great dogs like Turrean, but never seen one. “Bred to hunt wolves —”
He winked at her. “How apropos.”
Alianor smiled. Goliath shifted on her arm and fluffed his feathers at the dog’s presence. She returned the bird to his cage before Turrean unnerved him further. When she latched the little door, Goliath let out a shrill warning cry.
It echoed in the stone cell, as a monk’s chant must have long ago. Liam laughed, and the sound enveloped her like a blanket of warmth, something she couldn’t recall ever having felt before from a man’s laugh. Not even Walter’s.
She sought a safer course of conversation. “I thought only nobility was allowed to keep wolfhounds.”
“True. Once more, I prove an outlaw.”
“In this case I am glad of it. Turrean’s absolutely beautiful, William.”
He flinched, and she noticed his expression. She realized her Anglicized version of his name hit a nerve.
Turrean seemed to know Alianor was speaking about her, for the wolfhound padded over to her. A large, wet nose nuzzled her hand for a bit of affection. She obliged Turrean’s demand for attention and felt instant kinship between herself and the dog. She was delighted. Liam did not look so pleased, though he gave a grudging chuckle.
“Now she’ll believe it herself. Amazing, it is. Turrean’s never taken to anyone else before, especially a woman. It seems she’s already under your spell, Alianor.”
It was the first time he had spoken her name and it pleased her, while at the same time it left her uneasy. She was all too aware of his closeness. The space between them in the confines of the cell was marginal indeed.
She attempted a carefree laugh and continued to pet Turrean. “I assure you, I cast no spells. Methinks you must beat this poor creature, for clearly she’s starved for a kind hand.”