Emerald Prince (21 page)

So, too, did Liam’s moods change, a never-ending enigma about the man and a testament to the land forming his character.

“Do you understand things better now, Alianor?”

Niall’s question drew her gaze back to him. “I think so. Liam’s a Prince of Thieves — no,” she corrected herself, a smile touching her lips, “a Prince of Wolves, and I am his prey, a means for him to help feed his people.”

“Not only those you see here, colleen, but hundreds more who cannot make enough from this unforgiving land to pay their rent an’ taxes an’ still feed their children. Legitimate folks who look to the Emerald Prince as their savior of sorts, if e’er there was one.”

Alianor felt her heart go out to these people, people she didn’t even know. She didn’t want to believe in the legend of the Emerald Prince. She didn’t want to love Liam Caomhánach.

As each day passed, she found it more difficult to remain aloof from the man, from his people, from his world. Every day she told herself she hoped de Lacy would pay a great sum to get her back. Liam, these people, this land — it all touched her more than she cared to admit. A new thought brought a nagging fear, and her brow furrowed with dismay.

“What’s wrong, Alianor?”

“Why would he take the risk? He could have taken my dowry and been done with it.” She smacked her palm down on the saddle pommel for emphasis. “What made him decide another ounce or two of gold was worth all the trouble he is bound to bring down upon himself? His imprudent actions will have not only de Lacy after him, but the King of England himself. It’s madness.”

Her angry outburst sobered Niall. “I don’t know why the big dowry wasn’t enough. You’ll have to ask Liam.”

Alianor looked at him. “And you, Niall. Why are you here, risking everything? It’s obvious you hold him in great affection, but is it worth your life?” She wondered if he would ever answer. When he looked at her at last, the twinkle was gone from his eyes.

“You know I’m Liam’s uncle, colleen. His mother was my sister.”

“Yes.” She felt feisty and tossed out a challenge. “But even blood doesn’t explain why you ride beside Liam as an outlaw, an outcast in your own land.”

He sighed. “I suppose not.”

She realized she was being unkind. “I’m sorry, Niall. I didn’t mean to poke into private matters. It’s none of my business.”

He smiled at her apology. “I take no offense. Sometimes, it’s better to let the past alone.”

“I only want to understand your nephew better.”

He sighed and looked thoughtful. “Where do I begin …? Well, Liam was my sister Caireen’s greatest joy in life.”

“He calls himself a bastard. Is it true?”

“Aye, true enough that Liam was born out of wedlock. Caireen worked for the O’Connors, a charwoman. She was bonny enough to turn heads, Cathal Crovderg’s in particular. Noblemen aren’t always so noble, are they?”

Alianor thought of the King’s unwanted advances and nodded.

“When Caireen found herself expecting, but with no husband, our mother threw her out. So, my wife Sorcha and I took her in to live with us. My son Baethan had died a’fore he was two, so Liam was like me own. Sorcha doted on the lad, and when my two girls were born to us later in life, they loved him as an older brother.” Niall smiled at the pleasant memories those early years provoked. “’Twas a happy time indeed.”

It was strange imagining Niall a family man. Alianor realized something dire must have occurred, for he had never spoken of a wife or children before. “What happened?”

Niall seemed subdued, taken back to another time and place. His jaw set as he relived another, less pleasant memory.

“Caireen died of a fever when Liam was ’bout seven. Some years later, my Sorcha took ill. Me an’ the lad were working our fields when word came she had taken a turn for the worse. Remembering what happened to Caireen, I was determined to go for the physic at Roscomáin. Liam intended to head for An Longfort, where we knew of a healer, in case the physic could not or would not come. There would still be a chance to save my wife.

“We started to leave, but the worse luck plagued us. O’Connor’s son, one of Liam’s half-brothers, happened to be riding through the fen. Dermot was about fourteen, a year older than Liam. He stopped us, demanding we return to our work.”

He shook his head remembering the dark day long ago. “Liam had ne’er come face to face with any of the legitimate sons of the O’Connor a’fore. Though they looked nothing alike, Lady Duvessa’s sneering little
nathair
knew who Liam was on sight. His mother had made sure he had been crammed full of enough lies about Caireen and Liam. Needless to say, Dermot O’Connor’s resentment had simmered for many long years.”

Sadness sketched Niall’s rugged features and touched Alianor in turn. “The lad taunted Liam. As if Liam was responsible for their father’s actions. He even struck Liam before I could intervene, an’ ordered us back into the field. Dermot would not hear me as I tried to explain why we must go. He was too intent on hating Liam an’ what he represented. A lifelong threat to his inheritance, Liam was, in the eyes of Lady Duvessa and her spawn.”

“What did Liam do?”

“The worse thing he could have, colleen. When Dermot grabbed up a horse whip an’ slashed me across the face, Liam tackled the older boy from his fine horse and O’Connor’s precious heir landed on his arse.” Niall couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the memory.

“They tussled about in the dirt, but Liam had the upper hand an’ held Dermot fast whilst he shouted for me to get the horse an’ ride for help. I realized a horse would cut hours off the trip an’ I was desperate to save my Sorcha. I did not stop to reason, but took O’Connor’s mount an’ rode for Roscomáin like the Divvle Himself nipped at my heels.”

“So you’re wanted for stealing a horse?”

“Aye, but there’s more to the story, Alianor. It only started the real trouble. Liam realized he could not hold Dermot forever an’ thought he would surely come around in the end. Too, he remembered O’Connor’s wishes he serve his half-brothers, an’ did not suppose any great trouble would come of the wee incident in the end. Liam was young and did not know someone could have so much hate in them.”

Niall grimaced as he relived what had happened next. “Dermot limped home in a white-hot fury an’ went crying to his mother, a woman who hates Liam with every fiber of her being. O’Connor was off fighting in the north, and I believe he would have intervened had he been there. But we shall ne’er know for certain.

“Lady Duvessa flew into a rage, an’ a woman’s anger is oft far deadlier than a man’s. She ordered the men O’Connor had left behind to ride out an’ find Liam an’ meself. She was not intending to invite us for a family reunion, colleen, as you might imagine.”

Niall sighed and Alianor remained tense, sensing the worst of the tale was yet to come. “Did you save your poor Sorcha, Niall?”

He shook his head. “Alas, by the time I found the physic an’ convinced him to come, trouble had already descended on our humble home. By nightfall, O’Connor’s men had ridden out an’ taken Liam by force, where the lad had returned to tend my sick Sorcha. When I made it home, ’twas only to stumble upon smoking rubble, my cottage burned to the ground.”

Niall’s voice grew hoarse when he continued. “As the men rode off with Liam prisoner, they touched their torches to the thatch. My wife was trapped inside with my wee girlies. They ne’er came out.”

Alianor gasped. “Jesus wept,” she whispered, unable to comprehend the evil in some men’s hearts.

“Aye. Overcome with agony an’ grief, I rode like a demon possessed intent on killing the bastards. I caught up to O’Connor’s men an’ got Liam free. Together the pair of us made short work of Lady Duvessa’s errand boys. Five of O’Connor’s men died that day, as do any who’ve crossed us since.”

Niall looked up when thunder cracked above them, dark clouds rolling and churning angrily across the sky. “We’d best go, colleen. A storm’s brewing.”

They rode back to the camp in silence. Alianor’s mind dwelled on all she had learned from Niall. It started to rain before they reached the abbey, the downpour forming muddy puddles the horses splashed through.

After helping Alianor from her mount, Niall took the horses and lead them into their stalls and started drying them off. She placed Goliath upon his perch. He seemed to take little notice of the rain; his brilliant feathers repelled the wetness. He fluffed, and shook out his wings, the remaining droplets flying in the fading light filtering into the stables.

The spray of light reminded her of the moody landscape, and in turn the brooding man who occupied her mind so often. She could not help but remember the blazing passion when she and Liam made love. A flush warmed her. Alianor was thankful Niall couldn’t read her mind or see the blush heating her cheeks.

“Don’t tary colleen,” Niall said. “You’d best get in by the fire an’ dry out.”

Alinaor nodded and started for the abbey. The rain washed over her face and she welcomed its cooling effect. She loved the rain, and the mist rising from the earth as the cooler drops melted into its warmth. A shadow slipped from a building she passed and she greeted Turrean with an affectionate ruffle of the wolfhound’s shaggy fur. Turrean licked her hand with a big, warm tongue. Alianor laughed.

“How are you today, girl?” Alianor scratched Turrean behind the ears, while the wolfhound looked at her with soulful brown eyes.

Most people were inside seeking shelter from the storm, and Alianor enjoyed having the crude streets to herself. Deep in solemn thought, Alianor resumed her walk for the abbey, Turrean loping a few paces back at her heels.

“Do
Sassenach
whores have no shame?”

The intrusion upon her reverie startled Alianor. Rosaleen stood in front of her, blocking her entrance into the abbey. She balled her fist, shook it at Alianor. Rosaleen swung wide, but Alianor managed to duck out of the way.

“How could you betray Liam? You slut,” Rosaleen shrieked.

She lunged forward, grabbed Alianor by the shoulders, and her momentum hurled them both backwards into the mud. Alianor gasped with pain as she impacted the ground, the screaming Irish hellion on top of her.

“Get off,” she shouted, surprise giving way to her instinct for self-preservation and fighting back.

Alianor grabbed Rosaleen’s wrists and prevented her face from being scratched, but found it impossible to buck off the other woman. So, forced to improvise, she rolled over in the mud and pulled the struggling hellcat with her. She ended up straddled on top of Rosaleen. Panting from a rising fury of her own, Alianor let go of one hand and slapped Rosaleen hard across the face.

The stunned look on Rosaleen’s face told Alianor she hadn’t expected her to fight back. But the hand Alianor had freed wrapped into her damp hair. Rosaleen yanked hard, nearly ripping a fistful from its roots.

Alianor cried out. Rolling free, she scrambled to get to her feet. Her scalp throbbed and she saw a good number of strands in Rosaleen’s hand. The mud proved too slippery for Alianor to get far. Rosaleen tried getting up too, but her feet slid out from under her and she landed on her rump.

“God’s blood, not again,” Alianor cursed when Rosaleen managed her footing the second time, and hurled herself at Alianor again. Together they tumbled into the ooze in a thrashing pile of arms and legs. This time Rosaleen managed to seize the back of Alianor’s head and grind her rival’s face into the muck. Alianor choked and struggled for air, convinced the shrieking madwoman was going to kill her.

Through layers of slimy mud, she heard a feral-sounding snarl. Rosaleen froze, her grip loosening on the nape of Alianor’s neck. Sputtering, coughing, Alianor lifted her face from the mire and gasped for air while Turrean circled them, snarling. The wolfhound’s ruff bristled, yet somehow her dark eyes looked more human than canine. Turrean’s gaze locked on Rosaleen, her throaty growl leaving no doubt she intended to attack.

Alianor could feel Rosaleen’s thighs trembling where they straddle-gripped her sides. “Get away,” Rosaleen cried, slinging a fistful of mud at the dog. “Go on, you flea-bitten mongrel.”

As if sensing the woman’s fear Turrean solidified her stance, lips drawn back to expose canines of an impressive, gleaming length. She crouched, her intentions to protect Alianor made clear.

“
Stad
,” Niall yelled, diverting the dog’s attention as he hurried out from the barn. “Stop, Turrean.”

Alianor seized the distraction and dragged herself free. Rosaleen remained still, long enough to assure Turrean wasn’t going for her throat, and she yanked her rival’s sodden hair again, hard. Alianor’s scalp exploded with pain, and in one furious reflex, she balled her fist and swung around. She struck with surprising accuracy, hitting Rosaleen across the jaw and splitting her lip. The other woman gasped and touched her face, staring in shock at the blood on her hand.

Niall grabbed Turrean by the ruff to restrain her, and Liam appeared. He assessed the situation, and stepped in between the two women before either one could do more harm. “What the hell is going on here?”

Torin arrived on his heels, looking grave when he took in the scene and Rosaleen’s bleeding face.

Both women rose, shaking mud from their hands and gowns, rain running down their muddy countenances in what might have been comical to Liam if he weren’t so angry. His mood did not improve when Rosaleen slogged through the mire towards him, pouting, her eyes red with tears.

“Ask your strumpet where she’s been, and who’s she’s been doin’,” Rosy cried.

Alianor said nothing in her own defense. Her gaze remained cool and level on Rosy. Somehow, even covered in layers of mud, she managed to look dignified.

“Speak plainly, woman,” Liam barked at Rosy. He was losing what little patience he had to begin with.

Rosy took a step back at his outburst. “I-I saw them come out together from the stables,” she said, and pointed an accusing finger at Alianor and Niall. Her swelling lip puckered, and her eyes narrowed. “Rollin’ in the hay, they were. She’s a schemin’ slut, is it not plain enough for you, Liam? She’ll fuck any man here if she thinks he will help her escape. Malone was the first.”