Wild Angel (9 page)

"May I go to her?" Aud, accompanied by one of
his clansmen, was hurrying to the door.

Ronan spun, startled.

"She left the hall in such a rush I thought I
should follow her, Lord," the older man began in explanation, gesturing to
Aud.

"It’s all right, Sean. She may enter but lock the
door behind her."

Feeling Aud’s anger, Ronan passed by her without
another word. Yet his own anger that a servant would dare to censure his
actions was soon overshadowed by keen regret that she’d come at all. A regret
that sent him striding tight-lipped for the hall, more determined than ever
that his recalcitrant charge would be tamed, wedded and gone from Glenmalure
before the next waning moon.

***

"It’s been three days, Ronan. Are you truly going
to leave her locked in there for a full week?"

Ronan gave his brother a hard look as he dismounted. "I’d
wager if we had returned yesterday, you’d have said the same thing and then it
would only have been two days. And likewise my answer would have been the same.
Triona needs firm discipline. She stays."

"Then don’t be surprised if she’s twice the
handful when you finally let her out." Niall slid off his horse, his
expression exasperated as he tossed the reins to a waiting servant. "To my
mind, you’re being too damned uncompromising."

"Very well, then," Ronan said tightly,
wheeling halfway to the stable door. "Since I can sense you’re most
anxious to tell me. How should I be treating her?"

"Not like a stern taskmaster determined to break a
young mare! Since Triona came to Glenmalure, if you’re not ordering her about
or making threats, you’re humiliating her at every turn. That stunt the other
night when you made her
look like
a stubborn filly at
the end of a halter, tweaking her to get her to go—"

"She would have run for the doors if I hadn’t
controlled her," Ronan cut him
off,
waving from
the stable the last of the clansmen who’d accompanied them on their raid. In
truth, he regretted his callous behavior, but he didn’t need his younger
brother, Tanist or no, berating him in front of his men. Only when the servants
had led their lathered horses away, leaving him and Niall alone, did Ronan
demand, "Since when have you become Triona’s champion?"

"I think you can guess, brother. Since she first
stood up to you—"

"And I told you I’ve no interest in taking her to
wife!"

To Ronan’s irritation, his vehement outburst was
greeted by a grin, Niall spreading out his hands.

"Who said anything again about a wife? All I’m
saying is that you might do better trying another tack with Triona than forcing
her to obey you. You want her to act the proper maiden, Ronan, but how can she
when you don’t treat her like one? You certainly haven’t given her any
encouragement that it’s something she might even want to try."

"I treated her well enough that first night—until
the chit purposely shrieked in my ear."

Niall shook his head, clearly unconvinced.

"No? Then what’s your estimation of my conduct?"

"You were brusque with her and inhospitable, and
that’s the mildest of judgments. Yet things could have gone differently,
brother. Mayhap if you’d appealed more to her feminine nature, she might not
have been so inclined to defy you."

"Feminine nature?" Ronan muttered,
remembering Triona’s well-aimed blow to his stomach. "Other than some
tears, I’ve seen little evidence of that."

"Mayhap, but all women love compliments. You know
how it pleases Maire when you praise her embroidery. Did you think to praise
Triona’s gown? Her hair? The beauty of her eyes?"

Ronan remained silent, remembering how he had thought
Triona lovely, but said nothing.

"You see? A few well-chosen words might have
swayed her temper. Did you suggest she try a particular dish? Did you ask her
if the wine pleased her? If she might like a soft cushion for her chair?"

"So she could pummel me with it?" Shaking his
head, Ronan turned and looked out onto the yard. "You’re mad if you think
this idea could work."

"Am I? I recall that you used to charm the wenches
easily enough, Ronan, so much so that they would have done anything for you. I
remember you and Conor always vying with each other over who could win the most
attention."

Ronan stiffened, but didn’t turn around. "That was
a long time ago. You were only a boy—"

"But not so young that I didn’t watch you and
Conor in awe, hoping some day I’d find as much favor with the fairer sex. You
both knew how to please them, how to tease them and make them laugh so even the
plainest girls felt pretty around you. Now if you spend time with a woman, it’s
only to take her to your bed for a single night’s tumble—"

"Are you done?" Ronan demanded, rounding upon
him. "Because if you’re not, little brother, I tell you now that I’ve
heard enough!"

"Aye, I’m done." Sighing heavily, Niall
brushed past Ronan. "Do what you will with Triona. You’ll hear no more
brotherly advice from me. But if I could venture one guess as to why she doesn’t
want to marry,
I’d
wager it’s because
she fears being wed to a man who’d treat her with as heavy a hand as you."

Niall was gone before Ronan could reply, his brother’s
long strides noticeably marked by weariness. They had scarcely slept these past
two nights, having ridden deep into Wexford to steal cattle. A raid Ronan had
called for after returning to the dinner, his gut still aching from Triona’s
unexpected blow.

And he was to appeal to her feminine nature? Ronan
thought incredulously, heading for his dwelling-house.

Triona possessed a face and body beautiful enough to
haunt any man’s dreams, and a grace about her as natural as breathing, but
there her resemblance to any woman he’d ever known ended. She would more likely
be charmed by his complimenting a target hit dead-center than upon the color of
her eyes.

Ronan paused at the door, a pang hitting him as he
thought again of the tears he had seen.

Perhaps Triona truly was more a maiden than she
appeared—though obviously from her reaction something she would have preferred
to hide. By God, could she be hiding more from him as well? Might she simply be
afraid to marry?

If that was so, perhaps he would have to temper his
methods. She’d never accept a husband and marriage if he couldn’t convince her
that she had nothing to fear . . . from him or the man he would choose for her.
And perhaps if he gave her a bit more freedom, she’d be less intent upon
defying him.

"Anything’s worth a try," he said to himself,
turning away from the door. "But, little brother, you’d better be right."

***

"I’m going to scream." Triona threw a glance
at Aud as she paced furiously around the large sunny room. "Scream I tell
you, so loud and long it’ll be heard all the way to Dublin
!
 
Three days Ronan’s been gone, and I’ve
been stuck in here! Three whole days!"

"Stuck only because you won’t break one of those
windows." Aud looked up from the borrowed linen gown she was shortening. "You
could do it easily—"

"And have that tyrant extend my sentence by
another week? I’ve already told you a hundred times, Aud. I will not give him
the pleasure!"

"But he wouldn’t be able to force you to stay in
here even an hour longer than you wanted to if you left Glenmalure altogether,
now would he?"

Triona stopped, sighing with exasperation. "Aud,
for the last time, that’s just too easy. First of all, I’d never leave here
without you and all of my pets. And secondly, I’ve a few things to do before I
bid this miserable place farewell."

"Aye, so you’ve said."

Hearing the uneasiness in her maid’s voice, Triona went
to her side. "What’s this now? You don’t believe I’ll find a way to join
Ronan when he rides against Maurice de Roche? I will, you know, and one of my
arrows will send that baron straight to hell for what he and his men did to my
father."

"Aye, I don’t doubt you could do it, Triona, and
that’s why I grow more worried every time I hear of your plans. I already told
you of the strange dream your father had just before the O’Byrne arrived at his
deathbed—how he was tossing and moaning and saying first your name and then the
baron’s—"

"And I said then that I’ve no fear of dreams, Aud."

"No, but I do! And it gave me a chill just to hear
him, as if an evil hand had passed over my heart. I think your father was
trying to warn you away from avenging him, sweeting, and if you’d heard him cry
out your name as I had . . . as if he saw you in the clutches of the devil
himself—"

"Aud, this is nonsense." Triona settled her
arm around her maid’s shoulders but to her surprise, Aud shrugged it off as she
twisted around to face her.

"And mayhap it isn’t! I told myself when you
agreed to leave Imaal with the O’Byrne that I shouldn’t worry. He would protect
you if the need ever came. I’m certain that’s why your father summoned him at
the end, that, and knowing this place was safe. But the O’Byrne deceived you,
and when you ride with him now he won’t even know you’re among his men to
protect you! So I’m asking you as sure as I love you, Triona, give up this idea
of seeking revenge for your father!"

Sighing to herself, Triona sank to her knees beside the
chair. "You know I can’t, Aud. I swore—"

"Aye, you can, just as easily as you could break
one of those fine glass windows and find a way out of this stronghold, out of
this glen and to the west coast of Eire if you have to. Far enough away for you
to be safe."

"And leave you here? I already told you I wouldn’t—"

"Your father didn’t cry out my name, sweeting. You’re
the one in danger."

"For the last time, Aud, I’m not in danger!"
Triona rose, annoyed with her maid’s stubborn insistence. "It would take
more than a dream for me to believe that. We’re staying, I tell you. After my
father is avenged, and after I teach Ronan a lesson or two about betrayal we’ll
leave Glenmalure. But not a day sooner."

While Aud sighed heavily, shaking her head, Triona
moved to the nearest window. She’d just have to wait until the spawn let her
out of here, no matter how much it made her feel like screaming.

She stared sullenly outside, wishing she had more of a
view than the oak palisade. But at least she had a view. The few small windows
at her father’s stockade had been so thick and grainy that seeing anything
through them had been impossible; these windows couldn’t be clearer.

"More compliments of the Normans, no doubt,"
she said dryly to herself, yanking at the tight collar of her gown. It was
amazing to her that she was still dressing herself in the damned things after
the other night when she’d stormed in here and slammed the door in Ronan’s
face.

She remembered swearing a dozen times into her sodden
pillow that she didn’t care what he did to her anymore, she’d never wear
another gown or pretend a moment longer that she intended to obey him. Not
after the humiliation she’d suffered at his hands.

But her angry tears had soon given way to cold reason.
She could do nothing until that door was left unlocked, and it wouldn’t be
unlocked until she convinced Ronan that she was at least willing to play the
maiden—

A throaty bark beyond the door made Triona whirl from
the window, her eyes meeting Aud’s.

"That sounded like Conn! Conn!"

Triona’s cry was greeted by another bark that became
frantic whimpers, heavy paws scratching at the door. A key had no sooner grated
in the lock than a huge furry flash burst into the room. Triona was thrown
laughing against the bed as Conn jumped up on his hind legs and pounced upon
her, whining and licking her face.

"Oh, Conn, I’ve missed you! My brave Conn!"

Triona was soon able to calm him by rubbing his wiry
coat, the panting wolfhound flopping to a sitting position in front of her. It
was then she spied Ronan standing in the doorway, a sleepy-eyed Maeve draped
comfortably over his arm.

"I thought you might like the company of your
pets."

Astonished, Triona sank down on the mattress while
Ronan came over and deposited Maeve beside her, but not before giving the
purring cat another good scratch behind the ears.

"Curious creature. She spit like a serpent until I
gave her a stroke or two, then she didn’t seem to mind my picking her up."

"Aye, she’s like that sometimes," Triona
murmured as Ronan gave Conn’s head a rough pat. Conn seemed to be enjoying
every moment, even going so far as to lick Ronan’s fingers.

"Ah, your Ferdiad is well and roosting with the
other falcons. You are free to visit him whenever you like."

Triona met Ronan’s eyes, shocked anew. "Free . . .?"

Ronan nodded as he turned to leave.

"You mean I can come and go as I please?"

Again he nodded, then he was gone, the door left open
behind him.

Incredulous, Triona gaped after him. "Jesu, Mary
and Joseph . . . O’Byrne, wait!"

Chapter 8

CONN BARKED EXCITEDLY as Triona ran from the room, her
gown hiked up above her knees.

"O’ Byrne—oh!"

She stopped short, surprised to find Ronan leaning
against an opposite doorjamb as if he had fully expected her to fly after him.
Following his gaze, she felt her cheeks flare and she quickly dropped her gown
to cover her legs, her bare toes peeking from beneath the silken hem.

"You’ve no slippers to wear . . . T’

"Aye, I’ve slippers," she mumbled, strangely
flustered at seeing him adopting such a casual stance, his arms crossed loosely
over his chest.

Or maybe she was disconcerted because he wasn’t glaring
at her sternly. She’d never seen his expression more relaxed. Or because he’d
spoken to her evenly instead of giving her a blunt command. Suddenly she grew
wary.