Emerald Prince (22 page)

“That’s not true,” Alianor said. “You were the one who lied and told Malone I wanted company that night.”

Others were gathering; the dastardly weather not enough to keep them away from a fight, especially between these two women. With Turrean settled, Niall released his hold on the dog.

Seeing Rosy worked up for another scene, Liam grabbed her elbow and pulled her towards the abbey. “Let’s take this inside.” He glanced back at his uncle, whose own look was so black Liam reconsidered saying anything more. Niall offered his arm to Alianor as escort and in silence they followed Liam, Rosy and Torin inside.

Once out of the sight of prying eyes and wagging tongues, Liam pushed Rosy ahead of him towards a bench. “Sit,” he ordered, revealing his anger in the terse command. He looked from one woman to the other. “I don’t tolerate bickering among my men. I certainly won’t put up with catfights between you two.”

Thus far Alianor had said little, but she stepped forward, her eyes flashing blue fire. Again Liam was amazed at how regal she appeared even with mud clinging to her face.

“You do not dictate to me. And if this lying bitch dares touch me again, I’ll prove I am not someone to trifle with. If Turrean does not tear out her throat first and spare us all her tiresome hysterics and lies.”

The message was clear. Liam stared at Alianor, both annoyed and intrigued by her display of bravado. Yet he feared his aching head might split in two as the blood rushed to it. The conflicting need to both punish and protect Alianor was so intense he restrained himself from lashing out in frustration. Instead, he worked his clenched fists at his sides to relieve the tension. “Best watch your tongue, Alianor. It will do no good to make an enemy of me.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Enemy? I thought you already were, William. Remember, you hold me against my will, or is that insufficient reason to consider you my enemy?”

Rosy was not about to be left out. Her coarse snigger drew their attention. “For an enemy, you sure don’t mind spreadin’ your legs for him. Or for any other dog sniffing ’round your skirts.”

“Shut up, Rosy,” Liam ordered, putting his arm out to stop Niall when his uncle stepped forward, his rare growl of rage warning everyone he was close to losing control himself.

“Torin, are you goin’ to let him speak to me that way?” Rosaleen whined and looked to the third man standing back from the scene. Torin’s brows furrowed together in dismay, and his blond head ducked in shame.

“Rosy, do as you’re told,” Torin muttered, pleading with her. “You’ve caused enough trouble already. They’ll no’ believe your lies. Can you no’ see it?”

Rosy looked hurt. “You’re not goin’ to take her side, are you? Torin, how can you believe a
Sassenach
slut o’er me?”

Torin barely glanced at her as he dragged her from the room. “’Tis no’ the wench’s words, but Niall’s I believe. ’Twas plain enough on his face when you accused of him of betraying Liam. Say no’ another word, woman, lest I beat you for spewing filth.”

Rosy sniveled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand as she went, but she said no more. Obviously, she knew better than to provoke Torin further. It was plain she had lost this battle.

Looking after the couple, Liam shook his head in dismay. “I actually feel sorry for Torin. Knowing Rosy, there will be hell to pay later.”

Niall snorted in disgust. “Rosy best curb her wicked tongue. ’Tis foul, the lies she casts ’bout Alianor.”

Liam chuckled. “What of the lies she tells about you?”

Niall’s face reddened. “You cannot think —?”

“Of course not,” Liam said, suddenly weary. “We both know why Rosy’s causing trouble.”

“Because she’s in love with you.”

Both men turned to Alianor. She bluntly stated what neither of them would.

Liam wasn’t sure how to react in the wake of her honest statement. He felt awkward, his anger having fled. The only thing he could say was, “I’m sorry about Rosy.”

“She’s harmless.” Alianor rubbed her head and winced. “Except when it comes to her dramatics.” Her look turned serious. “It’s Torin you should beware.”

“Torin?” Liam was surprised. “He knows there has never been anything between me and Rosy. It’s not my way to move in on another man’s woman.”

Alianor sighed. “Aye, Torin knows it. But do not underestimate that quiet man, William. For he also senses that Rosaleen’s heart will never truly be his, not while you are around. That is what makes him dangerous.”

Chapter Sixteen

“B
ROTHER
D
ONAL TOOK THE
Jewel of Knowledge from the Viking warrior, and hid it within the folds of his robe.”

They had all heard Felicity tell the legend many times before, but nobody ever tired of it. Liam listened with the others as her voice rang with pride and conviction.

Everyone gathered for the evening meal, but instead of drifting apart after the sharing of bread, a familiar clamor started. Many begged Felicity to share the tale. At first she demurred, claiming weariness, but the children wheedled and the women pouted and she succumbed, laughing. Liam knew Felicity enjoyed it as much as they did. Her brown eyes sparkled and she quivered with anticipation of the retelling.

“One day when visitin’ his family, Brother Donal foolishly showed the stone t’ his brothers, Ronan and Peadar. They began t’ argue over which one of them would sell it and grow fat from its riches.

“In the end, neither had the privilege of owning the jewel. Donal slipped away while they argued and hid the stone. Later he sought the help of those who live in Tirn Aill, The Other Land. ’Tis how he found out how the stone had fallen into the hands of the Vik.”

Felicity paused in the tale, and a hush fell as her audience waited for her to continue.

“Many years before, fierce Northmen fell upon Innishmore. Within the great caves there lived Fand, a Faery Queen, who was called the Pearl of Beauty. Though wife to Manannan and lover to Cuchulain, she was the property of no man. She commanded a legion of mighty knights, all dressed in green trimmed with gold thread, golden helmets upon their heads and golden greaves upon each limb. The warriors sported solid gold spears and sat upon royal steeds made of fire and flame, their hooves polished silver and bridles gold.

“T’ keep the raiders from finding her secret lair, Queen Fand rode out with her army and, after a fierce battle, fought back the Vik. All but one; a great Viking warrior who had seen Queen Fand upon her horse, her silvery hair flying as she fought bravely and skillfully beside her men. He fell in love at first sight, and vowed she would be his.

“He followed as the faeries retreated back into their caves, and, when the Pearl of Beauty returned her royal steed t’ the stables, he kidnapped and took her t’ the frozen lands of the Northmen. Fand had the Jewel of Knowledge hidden within her girdle, the gift given by the Danu to the Faerykind. It seemed the stone was forever lost t’ the people of Eire.”

Deep sighs sounded in the hall as if each man, woman, and child experienced the loss personally. Liam saw Felicity’s shoulders slump.

“But, alas, Fand, a true and faithful daughter, could not forget her duty and loyalty to Eire. On her deathbed, she begged one of her Viking descendants t’ journey back to the land where she was born, and return the stone t’ its home, knowing he would not fail in the task.

“Now it was again among Eire’s own, and the faeries of The Other Land took the stone from Brother Donal and saw
Seòd Fios
given into the keeping of Fand’s eldest daughter by Manannan, Niamh of the Golden Hair. The girl was but six when her mother was stolen, but she was a woman grown now and had faery magick in her blood. She protected the stone for two-hundred human years.”

It was as if Felicity held the people in the crowded room captive, Liam noted, their attention riveted upon the small woman in the center of the circle.

“Then, for hundreds of years more,
Seòd Fios
was handed down through the generations in the female line of Fand. One day, a daughter of Fand will be called upon to bring its mighty power back t’ the mortal realms.

“There are markings in the Cave of Crachan at the entrance of Tirn Aill that tell of a true Prince of Eire who will rise from the mists of obscurity. An Emerald Prince of royal blood, yet whose heart and soul belongs t’ the common man. When Connacht is lost in darkness — when she is no longer free, only then will
Seòd Fios
be seen again.

“’Tis said a beautiful woman, a descendant of Fand, will bring the Jewel of Knowledge t’
Flaith Smaragaid
, the Emerald Prince. Together they will unite the land and its people.”

Every so often, Liam’s gaze was drawn to where Alianor sat, reading one of her own books he had found amongst her things. Books, like her gowns, had little value to starving wretches. It seemed inhumane, even to a blackguard like him, to take her few personal belongings, so he had returned them.

It surprised him how little Alianor possessed. Surely Sir Walter Coventry had not been poor. The dower offered de Lacy was generous enough. Yet aside from the plain golden wedding band she wore, and a few trinkets with semiprecious stones, she had no valuable jewelry. It seemed wrong somehow. A woman of her astonishing beauty deserved to be draped in rubies, sapphires — and aye, even emeralds.

Reminded of the legend, he studied Alianor. She remained absorbed in the book on her lap; the tale seemed to hold no interest for her. When Felicity went on with a more comical story, he rose and crossed the hall to sit on the bench beside her.

“Do romantic legends not appeal to you, Alianor?”

“Hmm,” she said, turning a page of her book, “a fine faerytale.”

“Faerytale?” The expression on her face told Liam she did not believe in the legend, or anything beyond the practical.

She sighed, closed her book and turned her full attention to him. “Perhaps one must be Irish to believe in things like faeries. The practical English do not hold with fanciful stories.”

Liam leaned back against the stone wall behind the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I can see why you are skeptical. I’m not sure what I believe, either, and I’m Irish through and through. But,” he paused, looking at her, “I’d like to believe in that particular legend, with all my heart and soul.”

Alianor met his gaze. “They call you the Emerald Prince here. Are you the man who will save Connacht from a reign of darkness?”

Liam heard the dubious note in her voice, and laughed. “I don’t think so, Alianor. I appear to lack an important part of fulfilling the
Seòd Fios
prophecy.”

Her eyes questioned him. He leaned close to her and whispered, “I have yet to meet the daughter of Fand whose love will help unite Connacht again.”

“I see,” she mused. “I suppose you are disqualified. What a pity.”

Liam glimpsed a teasing light in her eyes, and the hint of a smile she kept at bay. “Indeed, I’d give my right hand to know a woman like her.”

“Would you? With only one hand you would make a poor thief, I should think.”

He grinned. “I’d adapt. We villains are rather resourceful, you know.”

Alianor’s smile broke through. “It’s a shame, though,” she added.

“What is?”

“A shame you don’t have the stone.”

He shrugged. “Don’t know what I’d want with it.”

“What do you mean? You’d be rich beyond measure. An emerald as big as boasted could buy easy lives for all who follow you. You wouldn’t have to steal anymore, or kidnap brides for ransom. You’d have the jewel and its wealth.”

“Even if I had the stone, I’d never sell it,” Liam shook his head to confirm his words. “
Seòd Fios’s
true wealth lies in its magick, its powers. Not its value as an emerald.”

“Oh,” she said. “I thought you didn’t believe.”

“What I said,” he corrected her with a smile, “was I would
like
to believe. And, maybe, deep down, I do a wee bit.”

“So what happens to the people of Connacht if the legend doesn’t come true?”

Liam heard the skepticism in her voice and shrugged, hoping she wasn’t mocking him or his people. “I don’t know. No one knows except the faeries, and they aren’t talking.”

Alianor chuckled. “I’m sorry, William. I find it all so strange. I don’t mean to laugh for it’s your heritage, your history. Part of me wants to believe, but I suppose I’m too English for my own good.”

“Aye,” he said. “I can’t wish you Irish — your Anglo-Saxon blood is too strong. ’Tis a futile effort and I must try no more.”

“But you’ll forgive me for it? For, truly, I know not what I can do about the shortcoming.”

Alianor looked at him, eyes twinkling, and pressed a hand against her lips. Otherwise, he was sure she would have laughed outright.

“I don’t know, milady. It may take some convincing for me to get over my disappointment.”

She leaned over and murmured, “What do you have in mind, my prince?” Her voice dropped to a husky, sensual whisper. Her lips brushed against his hair, seeking out his earlobe. Liam responded in kind and his arm crept around her shoulders. He was glad the others were distracted by Felicity’s stories.