Wild Roses (12 page)

"You don't look well at all, dear girl! FitzHugh,
help me support Rose on the other side."

As the swarthy knight hastened to oblige, the clamor in
the great hall seemed to dim, many turning to watch as Maire was assisted down
the steps. And this time Adele gave Rufus a sharp look that made the dwarf
merely shrug and go back to prancing around the minstrels who had begun to play
a lively tune, Adele's voice once more rising above the din.

"Don't mind us, please, enjoy your meal. Lord
FitzWilliam's lovely guest merely wishes to retire—not feeling well, I
fear."

A few glances of concern were thrown their way, but
Maire exhaled with relief as Duncan's retainers fell back to eating and
drinking while Adele's knights on the dais caroused with even greater abandon,
Adele's maidservants shrieking with laughter as they were caught and fondled.
The only man who approached was Clement, his eyes greatly worried, but Adele
seemed to have been ready for him.

"Friar, go at once and prepare calming herbs for
Rose's stomach. We'll follow you."

"Ah, me, I knew bringing her to the hall would be
too taxing after that potion," Clement began, but a convincing moan from
Maire sent him bustling away. Adele raised a trim brow.

"You did that quite well, Rose. Playing a part
seems to come naturally to you. Now, we must hurry."

Maire didn't say a word, she couldn't,
she
felt so tense, that she might soon be free of Longford
Castle almost too much for her to hope. As Adele and Henry FitzHugh helped her
walk from the great hall toward the tower where Clement resided with his many
cats, Maire wondered with every step how they might elude the good friar.

It proved most simple. Adele merely guided Maire with
her knight's assistance past the door where Clement had disappeared, then
through a wide passage, and into what Maire saw at once was an immense stable. The
pungent smell of horse manure, polished leather, and fragrant hay made her hope
and nervousness soar wildly.

"Quickly, FitzHugh, saddle our horses!"

Adele's anxious command was quickly obeyed. Within
moments the woman herself gave a leg up to Maire, as Henry FitzHugh hoisted her
behind him onto his massive black steed. The same snorting animal, Maire
realized as she tried to still her hands from
shaking, that
had run her down in the woods only two days before; in spite of herself, she
felt sickened as Adele mounted a fine dappled gray gelding.

"We've only moments before Clement will come
looking for us—no time to fetch food or water. Ride, FitzHugh, and when we get
to the drawbridge, let me speak to the guards. Say nothing!"

They burst from the stable into a gray dusk, Maire
breathing cool evening air for the first time in what seemed an eternity. She
kept her arms clasped tightly around FitzHugh as they rode across a vast
courtyard, although the offensive smell of the man, sweat mixed with soured
wine, made her wonder if he bathed in the stuff as well as drank it, or bathed
at all for that matter. And she had entrusted herself to his care . . .

Trying not to think of the crude things Henry FitzHugh
had said about her, Maire was stunned that it seemed they'd reached the
drawbridge before she could blink. Yet her heart sank when grim-faced sentinels
raced from their posts to stand in the way.

"No one leaves Longford Castle, Lord FitzWilliam's
orders!"
came
a shout from a great burly fellow
in chain mail and helmet who appeared to be in command. "Forgive me, my
lady, but—"

"This young woman is ill, man, and Friar Clement
cannot help her!" cried Adele in feigned desperation, cutting him off.
"He told me another healer resides in the village—we must find him!"

"I'm sorry, my lady, but I cannot allow it. Strict
orders and I'm bound—"

"And I ask will you say the same, man, if this
poor woman dies and Lord FitzWilliam demands to know why we could not obtain
help for her? Lower the drawbridge now, or I fear—
I know
—there will be the devil to pay . . ."

As the commander looked doubtfully at his men, then
back to Adele, Maire doubled over behind Henry FitzHugh and began to moan
piteously, her blood pounding in her ears for fear she wouldn't be convincing
enough . . . only to hear the man utter a vehement oath.

"Very well, lower the drawbridge! But hold your
weapons at the ready, men. Those Irish Lord FitzWilliam warned us about may be
lurking near!"

A great creaking and the heavy scraping sound of chains
turning massive winches filled the gathering darkness, followed moments later
by a telling thunk. Maire closed her eyes for fear it was all a dream. Yet as
the horse beneath her lurched forward and clattered across the drawbridge, she
dared to believe she would soon be free, left to fend for herself in the woods
near the meadow, aye, but surely Ronan and Niall would come back to that place
and find her

"Men approaching from the west!"

A sentry's cry from high atop a tower shattered the night's
stillness. But it was Henry FitzHugh's fierce curse that made Maire lift her
head to look, while Adele signaled wildly for her knight to turn his mount
around. Yet there was no time to go back, as a host of armor-clad riders
carrying blazing torches came thundering toward them. An infuriated voice rose
above the din of hooves and the commotion now coming from the castle.

"By the blood of God, Adele, FitzHugh, where in
blazes are you bound?"

Chapter 11

Maire gasped and tried to hide herself behind Henry
Fitzhugh, while Duncan couldn't believe his eyes as he brought his lathered
horse closer.

"Rose? God's teeth, what . . . .?" His fury
mounting, Duncan barely saw the man he'd left in charge of the drawbridge rush
forward, his gaze jumping back to Adele.

"Woman—"

"Rose is ill, Duncan, and we thought—hoped, that a
healer in the village might do better for her than Friar Clement."

"That is so, my lord. I wouldn't have let them
pass at all if it hadn't been so urgent," interjected the stricken-faced
commander. "The young woman was moaning so—"

"The
devil take
it, then
why is she out in the night and not abed, the healer called to come to
her?" His roar making his dark bay stallion snort and toss its head,
Duncan fixed his eyes back upon Adele, his half sister looking suspiciously
pale. "Did Clement have a chance to look at her?"

"No . . . yes, I mean I changed my mind so
suddenly, Duncan. I'd sent him to his room for herbs, saying we'd follow, but
his healing potion failed to bring Rose a cure. She still remembers nothing
more of her family—"

"Dammit, woman, you were taking her back to where
her clansmen were slain, weren't you?" Adele clamped her mouth shut,
shaking her head, but that only confirmed Duncan's intuition. "After I
told you
that wolves
. . ."

He couldn't go on, he was so angry he didn't dare.
Gerard de Barry reined in his horse beside Duncan's.

"It's growing darker. We should be inside, the
guards on the battlements alerted, especially now.

"Especially now?" said Adele, bringing her
mount closer as well.

Clearly to draw Gerard's attention, Duncan thought
grimly, though he was pleased his knight had scarcely given Adele a glance.
Nodding at Gerard, Duncan's reply to his sister was low and brusque.

"We've prisoners, three Irish rebels. Clan O'Melaghlin."

"Oh, my, how delightful, Duncan! Where are they?
Can I see them?"

Duncan ignored her and brought his horse side by side
with Henry FitzHugh's, disgusted as much that Adele would look upon his
prisoners as if they'd been brought back to fan her amusement as he was furious
she had breached his orders.

Even in the deepening darkness he could see that the
young woman who'd scarcely left his mind was trembling, having no warm cloak to
protect her; a swift glance at both FitzHugh's and Adele's saddles showed that
no provisions of food or drink had been made, either, and even Adele wore no
cloak against the damp evening chill. Damn his half sister, did her penchant
for folly have no bounds?

Cursing under his breath, Duncan swept the woman from
FitzHugh's horse so suddenly that she gasped, stiffening in his arms as he
settled her in front of him and tugged his heavy cloak around her shoulders.

"Ease yourself, Rose. I do not blame you for this
night's events."

Maire said nothing, could say nothing, nor could she
stop her shaking as Duncan kicked his horse into a gallop and rode across the
drawbridge into the courtyard, which had come alive with people rushing from
the castle, great sputtering torches held high. She saw Clement, his kindly
face full of disbelief, and Reginald Montfort, too. The older knight appeared
to blanch with chagrin when he spied Adele and Henry FitzHugh
stop
their horses not far behind Duncan.

Within moments the courtyard was filled with the
whinnying, snorting mounts of at least forty men, the noise and confusion a
blur to Maire as stableboys leapt forward to lead exhausted animals to their
stalls while the metallic clatter of knights in battle garb seemed to ring
around her. She scarcely noticed that Duncan had dismounted until he raised his
arms to lift her down, yet her feet no sooner touched the ground than he had
swept her up once more. His embrace was fearsome, made so by chain mail that
covered him from the coif on his head to his feet.

"Gerard, see to the prisoners. I'll join you when
I can."

Amazed that Duncan's commanding voice could carry so
well above the clamor, Maire heard its harshness, too, which made her tremble
all the more. She had heard such a grim tone from Ronan whenever he spoke of Normans
or those clans who had traitorously submitted to their yoke, and it was clear
Duncan felt the same about the Irish rebels. Maire watched with pity as they
were dragged from their horses.

Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, two appeared no more than
smooth-faced youths and must have ridden the long way together, while the third
was an old man with graying beard and wild flowing hair who bore himself
proudly even as he was shoved into motion by the knights surrounding him with
drawn swords. Sickened, she closed her eyes, imagining the dank dungeon where
the prisoners were no doubt bound, imagining the iron shackles and fiendish
instruments of torture—

"Ah, Baron, I feel such a fool! Such a fool!"

Clement caught up to Duncan as he strode with Maire
across the courtyard. The friar had to nearly run alongside them when Duncan
didn't slow his pace.

A went to fetch calming herbs—Lady Adele said Rose was
ill. I'd told her the great hall would be too much for the poor child, and then
the torment Rose was made to suffer—"

"Torment?"

Duncan had stopped to face the friar, Maire's heart
pounding at the tension in his voice.

"Ah, Baron, it was a wretched thing to watch. That
dwarf of Lady Adele's—Rufus the Fool. He followed after Rose, making sport of
her as she walked . . ." The friar's eyes moved with fervent apology to
Maire. "I should have insisted then that Rose be allowed to return to your
rooms, to bed where she might rest. The next I knew, Lady Adele insisted Rose
was ill yet she never came for the herbs . . . Baron?"

Duncan had set out again, his strides so furious that
Maire could not help but feel the power of them, his arms tightening around
her, which only made her fear she would surely share in some of the brunt of
his anger. He had said he didn't blame her, yet he must have seen she was not
held atop FitzHugh's horse by force. Saints help her. The only thought that
gave her comfort as Duncan strode through an open door into the castle was that
she had not been made to join the prisoners. Was it possible he had not guessed
the truth about her clan . . . ?

"Bring hot water for a bath," he commanded a
small cluster of servingwomen huddled near the entrance to the great hall,
who
scattered to obey. Then to Clement, who still hustled
after them, "Fetch your herbs, friar, and come quickly, so you might tend
to Rose. She shakes as with fever."

Maire swallowed, no fever making her tremble so
wretchedly. With every step that Duncan took round the tower to his rooms, her
dismay only grew.

To come so close to leaving Longford Castle, and now to
find
herself
being carried back to the bedchamber she
had thought never to see again, the same bedchamber where Duncan had kissed
her. . .

Her cheeks flaring hot, Maire didn't allow herself to
look at him as they entered his apartment, Duncan not stopping until he reached
the hearth, where he set her down upon a chair and dragged her closer to a
freshly stoked fire.

"Stay there."

She hadn't thought to move, his actions as he went to
the bed and grabbed up a blanket reminding her so much of that first night when
he had mistaken her for Flanna. Had it only been two days past? But this time
she did not cringe from him when he swiftly returned and wrapped the blanket
around her, then sank to his haunches in front of the chair.

In truth she had scarcely looked at his face until that
moment, and now she found herself staring just as he searched her eyes, Duncan
FitzWilliam appearing more intensely handsome in the firelight than she dared
remember. If she hadn't already been trembling, she would have begun to, her
gaze falling in disbelief to the masculine beauty of his lips. He had kissed
her.
He had kissed her!
No man had
ever done such a thing before.

"Woman, what has happened this night? Had Adele
harmed you? Her man, FitzHugh? Threatened you somehow to make you leave with
them? Dammit, what? You must tell me!"

Maire had started at his vehement demand, however low,
which only made him draw closer, his mailed knees pressing against her legs as
he wrapped the blanket more snugly around her. She sucked in her breath,
everything Adele had told her in the hall rushing back to her, the vivid
concern in Duncan's deep brown eyes alarming her all the more.