Irish Moon (20 page)

The laws and customs here might vary from the
norm he knew, but he had no doubt that a lady compromised and
ruined was a universal wrong he’d be held accountable for. He
didn’t want to contemplate just what punishment such a crime
warranted in these parts and took care to tread softly.

He knocked only loud enough for an occupant
to hear. He prayed one would not because an answer would end his
venture. None answered. Ashlon tried the knob. Locked.

He continued on, his heartbeat thumped in his
ears louder than his footsteps or the muffled voices past the door.
At the second door he tried the knob first. Locked.

The last door, his final chance. Ashlon
looked skyward and pleaded the heavens to grant him an additional
boon. He put his sweating palm to the metal and turned. Locked.

In a whoosh, he exhaled as his anticipation
fell to keen disappointment. What had looked to be a perfect
opportunity to seek her out unnoticed proved false. The voices had
softened and his gut told him they would soon leave her. He stepped
to the window slit at the end of the corridor and chewed his
thumb.

There must be another way. There must be
another person he could enlist, trust to get her a note, unread and
unspoken of. Quinlan looked to be less a candidate after their
ride, leastwise not in a timely manner, which was exactly what
Ashlon needed right now.

Each day that passed with the chest missing
seemed to lessen its chances of being found. If it had been taken,
whoever took it would be farther and farther away until finding
their trail would take a miracle.

The book lay tucked under
his mantle, no longer foreign
,
but a comfortable weight. Inside laid the note he
wrote to her nights ago. His final hope was to linger where he
stood and attempt to slide it under her door.

Ashlon dug inside his mantle and retrieved
the volume. He opened it to the page he needed Breanne’s help
deciphering and plucked the folded and sealed parchment. He snapped
the book closed as the door opened, three ladies scrambling out at
once. He bowed to them as they left down the corridor. Quinlan and
two others remained, his sister and the Lady Ula. All three could
be heard giving turns at instructing Breanne to rest.

Holding the book behind
him, Ashlon leaned forward and peered through the ajar door. He saw
nothing other then three backs and a small table near the
doorframe. If he stepped softly and slid the note in, he would only
have to walk away and hope she found it. It was the safest and most
effective option
,
certainly. Once Quinlan left, he had no excuse to remain
without him.

“Is she all right then?”

Ashlon’s breath caught. He straightened and
faced the boy who’d asked him. “I believe so. I await Master Blake
now.” He covered the note with his hand held to his thigh.

“Seamus told me she passed
out and hit her head. Is that what happened?” the boy asked,
hushed. He peered through the door
,
then back at Ashlon.

“I cannot say. I was not present.”

“Do you want me to call him for you?”

“Call who?”

“Quinlan. If you need him and you’re
concerned about disrupting, I can call him for you. They won’t pay
me any mind,” the boy said, his voice rising.

“No.” Ashlon waved his elbow. “Thank you, but
I will happily wait. It is no urgent matter.”

“What’s that there?” His voice returned to a
hush and his eyes lit on the edge of paper Ashlon’s large hand
didn’t hide, eyes bright with interest.

“Personal business. A letter,” Ashlon
said.

“For Quinlan? Are you certain I cannot call
him for you?”

“No, thank you, but the two are unrelated and
as I said, I will wait.”

“Why do you wait here and not below if it is
not so urgent?” he asked and cocked his head at the simple
puzzle.

Ashlon smiled at the rascal. “Curiosity, I
suppose.”

“You’re not worried then? She looked
well?”

“Aye, she did and no, I am not.”

The boy went to the window, shifting his
weight like an exaggerated trudge with each step. Ashlon promptly
tucked the book under his shirt back, wondering what the boy was
building the courage to ask when all of his other questions had
come so easily.

“Are you Sir Sinclair, a real knight, from
England?” he said, fingering the drapery.

“I am. And who might you be?”

“Daniel Maquire.” He stood straight and
shoved his hand out to Ashlon.

“It is a pleasure to make
your acquaintance
,
Master Maguire.” He shook the proffered hand firmly. “You
must be the son of Lady Isolde and Master Ferris, friend of Lady
Breanne. Your good reputation precedes you.”

Daniel beamed and nodded at Ashlon. “As does
yours, Sir Sinclair. May I call you Ashlon?”

“I think you should and what name do you
prefer Master Maguire?”

“Danny is what Bree calls me. And me mum. But
the men call me Daniel. I like both.” Daniel shrugged. “Is that
your sword then, I mean, your knight’s sword?”

Ashlon choked on a laugh. “Yes, it was given
to me when I became a Knight of Solomon some fifteen years ago. My
master and mentor, Jacques De Molay, bestowed it upon me in a
secret knighting ceremony.”

Daniel’s eyes
widened
,
but held
locked on the sword’s hilt and Ashlon saw opportunity
materialize.

“Daniel, I wonder if I may
ask an errand of you, important and I must admit clandestine
business that I feel you may do well at?” Daniel looked at him. “In
exchange, if you find it worthy, I offer my sword. Not to keep as
your own
,
mind
you, but that you may practice in arms
,
using it under my
tutelage.”

Daniel clapped a knee before he could finish
and nodded vigorously. Ashlon glanced at the door to ensure the
three backs had not turned to retreat. He showed the note. “I need
this missive to reach the Lady Breanne. I cannot over emphasize its
importance and its delivery would need to go unnoticed by any other
eyes save yours or mine.”

Daniel reached for the note, eyes narrowed,
mouth firm. “You can trust me, Ashlon. This will not be my first
secret task and you have my word of honor that I will see it
delivered.”

“If anyone should come
upon this note
—
.”

“I shall die before they pull it from my
clutches.”

“Dear
lord
,
no. Die not
for my sake, good man. But if any should place hands or eyes on its
contents, will you say not from where it came or if possible to
whom you take it?”

Daniel had the folded square tucked inside
his shirt, stuffed through the neckline, within seconds. He licked
two fingers, slapped them to his arm and crossed his heart. A final
curt nod apparently closed their negotiations.

Ashlon ruffled the boy’s
hair and nodded back. “Good day to you
,
Master Daniel,” he said and
bowed.

Daniel bowed, as well, then Ashlon returned
to the main hall. Quinlan, Lady Rose and Lady Ula followed shortly
and Ashlon forced himself not to await the boy. He didn’t like
having to behave so secretly. It struck him as dishonest and he
longed for his life to return to honor and honesty rather than
constant distrust and furtiveness.

Chapter Twelve

“Danny, is that you?” Breanne asked, sitting
up in bed. When she got no reply outside of her closed door, she
readied to go to it, but still found herself woozy.

She didn’t know which she
despised more, being carried to bed or being left there with strict
instructions not to make an appearance for another day. Her mother
had assigned her newest handmaid to tend to Breanne and if it
wasn’t Danny she heard
,
then mayhap the girl?

“Whoever is out there,
please simply peer in as I canno’ get up,” she said. Where was that
blasted cat when she needed help? Off on a binge in the
woods
,
no
doubt.

The door creaked open and Danny’s tousled
head poked through. “Hello there.”

“Danny! You half killed me with fright. Get
in here this minute and give me a hug.”

Danny swung the door closed behind him and
plopped onto the mattress next to her.

“Who were you speaking to in the corridor?”
Breanne smoothed his hair and he smacked at her hand.

“Speaking to?” His eyes went from her face to
his hands. “To myself, I suppose.”

“Are you sure? No one else
was about? No maid
,
perchance
,
that you might have thought funny to turn the other way and
send to another room?”

“Nay, Breanne, I swear it, just myself
outside your door. I wasn’t sure I should be bothering you and was
deciding with my mind if I should knock or come back another
hour.”

“Well, I am glad you chose to come in over
leaving. Not ten minutes abed and I’m already thinking up ways to
leave it.”

“If you feel well, I see no reason for you to
stay in it.” He gave her a deep shrug. “And especially if you might
have somewhere important to be and then what would you do? Stay
abed and make others wait?”

“What are you about, Daniel Maguire?” She
could read it all over his face that he was up to something. “Out
with it.”

Danny scrunched his face and handed Breanne a
note. She took it from him, earning another deep shrug.

“What is this?” she
asked
,
but didn’t
need an answer when the paper fell open, the seal broken. Quickly,
she read the scribbled contents:

Lady Breanne, Though I
have already received more than deserved, I must beg your
assistance yet again. The issue I seek help with does not concern
my health, which is good, and which I thank you for. I may not yet
explain or give detail
,
but do assure you is a matter of life and death
and that you alone may offer the aid I need. Please consider
meeting me by cover of night in the location you last placed me. I
additionally believe to have information useful to your purpose, as
well. I dare not divulge more for both our sakes and will await
you.

No signature was needed for Breanne to know
who wrote it or its meaning. Recognition lit in her the moment her
eyes landed on the script. She breathed out and looked at
Danny.

“When did he leave it with you? When did you
read it, Danny?”

“He gave it to me before
the others left.” His gaze returned to his hands, fumbling with a
thread. “I don’t know what got into me. I read it, telling myself
I’d only take a peek. A poor conspirator I’m making.” He stood and
walked a circle, heel to toe around the floor rug’s pattern. “But I
dinna understand its meaning. And I won’t tell another living soul,
I promise you that.” He stopped, sat, and plunked his face into his
hands. “I am sorry
,
Breanne.”

Breanne half smiled at his pitiful
countenance. “I know you meant no harm. It is not so serious a
matter, Danny. You have not wronged me.” Her words sounded calm in
her ears above the rush of thumping blood in her veins. “With the
recent talk of marriage about, I suspect the man who spoke to you
is only protecting my virtue by keeping it secret.” She was more
than thankful Danny didn’t read English well yet. She didn’t know
what she would do to Ashlon Sinclair if he put the boy at risk.

Danny seemed appeased and lifted his head to
smile at her. “Have you chosen yet, Breanne?”

“I wish I had. But I’ve not had much time to
receive attentions or give them on the matter.”

“Is it true that Quinlan favors you?”

“Aye. It seems he does.
And the scribe Gannon O’Shannon
,
as well. But, I fear I have not yet spent enough
time with either to know my best match.” Her head began to hurt and
she laid back into the mound of pillows forced on her by Rose and
her mother. Quinlan had supervised, his gaze uncomfortably
warm.

“I almost forgot,” Danny said and suddenly
stood. He reached deep into the belly of his shirt, crouched over,
and pulled out a small wrapped bundle. With a flourish, Danny
handed her the gift.

Refusing to give in to the pain in her head
or the pound of her heart, Breanne smiled and pulled the tiny blue
string. The misshapen corners of cloth fell away, exposing a
necklace of leather attached through the center hole of a shining
green cloc cosanca. Breanne gasped.

“I found it yesterday down in the grove. Do
you like it? Does it not look like a fairy might have made it and
left it for me to find and give to you?”

Breanne’s eyes and nose stung. She swallowed
down the knot of emotion. “It’s beautiful, Danny. Prettier than any
I’ve seen. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat at her feet.

She put the amulet around her neck and
pressed it to her chest. “How does it look?”

“It looks nice.” He stood. “Well, I best get
downstairs or my mother will wonder if the elves stole me.” He put
a hand sidelong to his mouth. “That’s what she always says.”

“All right then, Danny. If you see a young
handmaid, will you send her in the right direction? I’m getting
right hungry doing all this laying about like a princess.”

Danny laughed and
agreed
,
but left
like the wind.

Breanne read the note
again
,
but felt
no better. She couldn’t meet him tonight. After the spell, her
mother would have the maid underfoot and Rose promised to check in.
She dismissed the idea of returning a note as soon as it entered
her mind. Too risky. She loved the boy to the world’s
end
,
but he was
right about being a poor conspirator.