Emerald Prince (51 page)

“Then I will give it a second time, freely, without doubt or regret.”

Willie voiced eager agreement, and Rob, Paddy and Brady echoed the pledge of faith in turn. Alianor knew greed and desperation ran strong in these hardened Irishmen, but their fear of Seth still dominated. Only Bow had had the nerve to stand up to him, and he was gone. Could she trust in this rag-tag lot of outlaws? Something whispered inside her head, yes.

Alianor smiled. The relief she felt was too powerful to hide. “Thank you, Seth. Call yourself what you like, but I call you friend. And I am grateful.”

Seth returned the smile. “We’re no’ yet where we need t’ be, colleen. There’s a long, dangerous journey ahead of us.”

Alianor nodded. “I suggest we not hang around, waiting for the King’s soldiers to fall upon us like thieves in the night.”

As soon as the words slipped out, embarrassment scalded her cheeks.

The men exchanged glances, and burst into laughter at her slip of the tongue. Brady added, “We best get goin’, colleen. Lead the way.”

Chapter Thirty-four

“G
OD’S BLOOD, COLLEEN,”
S
ETH
swore beneath his breath.

He looked at Alianor, his face reflecting concern. They lay stretched side by side on their bellies on a ledge, watching a large group of soldiers below them. The progress they had made each day of their journey was hard fought, and at every turn they encountered the King’s guard. Every major road was sealed off, and escape seemed unlikely.

“What did you do that every man-jack is out lookin’ for you?”

Alianor wondered if Seth needed to know the truth. Any attempt to kill the King was a death sentence. But, this time, her decision was an easy one. She had trusted Seth this far; she must trust him with the whole truth.

“I almost killed the King, Seth.” Alianor reflected back on her decision to let her royal tormentor live. “Perhaps I should have finished the job. If they catch me, I’ll lose my head for trying. It couldn’t be any worse for me if I had succeeded in murdering him.”

Seth laid a hand upon her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “There’s many ways t’ die, colleen. If you’d killed Lackland, ’twould mean a slow and painful torture, drawn and quarterin’ most like. Havin’ your head lopped off nice and neat ain’t a bad way t’ go by comparison.”

Alianor blinked back tears. Not for herself and her own possible death, for she cared not in what manner she might leave this world. Camber had taught her death meant little in the whole scheme of things. But Liam — Mother of God, she could not bear the notion of him enduring the tortures of the King’s men. Tortures they were well known for and took special delight in. Thoughts of how he suffered for her folly haunted every waking moment. If he had not come out of hiding to search for her, he would not be a prisoner. And sleep brought no relief from her mind’s torment, for nightmares disturbed her fitful nights, wearing her down.

Seth frowned when he saw her tears, and his ferocity crumbled beneath her sorrow. “Now, hush, colleen. I ain’t ’bout t’ let them bastards take you. There’s no need for tears.”

His matter-of-fact words reminded her of Niall and Wolf Haven. Alianor forced a smile and wiped her tears. “You’re a soft-hearted man, Seth, so gentle and kind beneath your strength. You needn’t worry over me. ’Tis not for myself I cry.”

“Caomhánach?”

“Yes,” Alianor whispered, her mind’s eye seeing Liam, as if he lay next to her, his green eyes twinkling in the sunlight, the dimple tugging at his left cheek.

“The legend is true,” Seth said.

“I thought you didn’t believe?”

His look turned wistful, a strange sight on a hardened man. “It has been told for generations, colleen, but I ne’er gave it much thought. The legend of
Seòd Fios
tells the tale of a woman with faery blood in her veins, that and her love for the Emerald Prince will unite the people of Connacht. You love Caomhánach mightily, Alianor, I see it in your eyes. Enough t’ risk death and torture t’ save him. He’s a lucky man.”

Alianor laughed and tried to make light of his heartfelt statement. “You’re a hopeless romantic, Seth.” She turned away from her protector, unable to bear his look of admiration. It was as if in his hellish existence Seth believed in something for the first time — in faeries, in God, in hope, in her. No matter what inspiration struck him, Alianor wasn’t certain she had the strength to become whatever he needed her to be.

The two of them crawled back out of sight and returned to where the other men waited. They made no campfire later and their bellies stayed empty. Soon a storm blew in, dampening their spirits further as rain pattered down on them. Alianor huddled on a wet log with the men, shivering beneath a large oiled canvas Seth had filched earlier from an unsuspecting farmer’s wagon.

“What are we goin’ t’ do, Seth?”

Paddy spoke, a quiet man who never questioned Seth’s decisions, seeming loyal to the big man in every way. Alianor knew they all wondered the same thing. She felt their despair as keenly as her own and it grew with each passing, miserable moment.

Seth didn’t say anything for a long while, merely stared into the dark rainy night. Everyone waited. When he spoke, he was barely audible over the constant rainfall.

“Me Da were a farmer. Me Mum a pretty little colleen.”

No one questioned his mood or his reminiscing of days gone by, but Alianor realized from the look on the other mens’ faces, Seth never spoke of the past. Whatever prompted this rare conversation, she could only guess.

“They worked hard, and somehow we managed t’ get by. But when the
Sassenach
King came t’ Eire, it all changed. We could no’ grow enough t’ pay the taxes anymore, so me Mum took work at the village pub at nights. She always said drinkin’ men were more free with their coin.”

Seth fell silent, the memories obviously painful. “Da was no’ a fool; he knew what me Mum were doin’ t’ earn the coin she brought home. I seen the shame in his eyes. No’ for me Mum a lyin’ on her back t’ help put food on the table for seven wee ones. But for his lettin’ her.”

Alianor closed her eyes as the sadness of it all overwhelmed her, imagining how young Seth and his siblings must have felt as well.

“Me Mum took consumption and died in the spring. Next winter I buried me Da beside her, and me three youngest brothers. I seen the rest takin’ in by relatives, but I were on me own. I weren’t but ten years of age and I ain’t done much good in me life since.”

Tears streaked Alianor’s cheeks along with the rain, her heart breaking for this gentle giant and his hard life. She wept for the innocence Seth had lost so many years ago. The rain made it impossible for anyone to tell she was crying and she let the teardrops fall unheeded.

Clearing his throat, Seth looked at her, his own eyes red. “I’m a man who’s done things I deserve killin’ for a dozen times o’er, little colleen. Before I die, I want t’ know I’ve done one good thing.”

An alarm went off in Alianor’s mind. “Who said anything about dying, Seth? You’re a hard man to figure, but now you’re talking nonsense.”

His dark eyes studied each man in turn. Paddy, Rob and Brady shifted under his strange look.

Only Willie questioned him, his innocent eyes wide with confusion. “Seth, w-w-wot you gettin’ at? You know I ain’t s-smart, smart ’nough t-t’ figure it out lest y-y-you come out an’ s-say it, plain an’ s-s-simple like.”

Seth’s hand reached out and patted Willie’s thin shoulder. “You’re plenty smart, Willie lad. I ain’t makin’ myself clear is all.”

“Best t’ say what you mean, Seth,” Paddy prompted.

“Alianor here needs t’ get t’ Wolf Haven. It seems there’s the King’s men ’bout every which way we turn.”

“Aye,” Brady agreed with equal soberness.

“What I’m thinkin’ here is I’ll go and distract them bastards awhile. You lads see Alianor gets clear while I keep their attention drawn elsewheres.”

“No,” Alianor cried, her mind reeling from the implications of Seth’s plan. “We all go, or none of us go.”

“No’ possible, colleen. ’Tis the only way I can see gettin’ past them.”

“No, Seth. It would be suicide.”

He nodded. “I understand what I’m sayin’. But I’ll no’ be hearin’ different from you, no’ anyone, and we’ll speak no more of it.”

Fear clamped Alianor by the throat, making the words she wanted to shout at this stubborn man stick. All she could mutter was, “No.” She wouldn’t let anyone else die. First her parents, then Walter and Cam, and now, Liam’s impending death loomed. It all affected her so deeply; she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else making a sacrifice for her.

Alianor touched the cross beneath her shirt, felt its coldness against her flesh. Connacht’s future and the dreams of her people lay nestled at her throat, waiting for someone to make them come true. She no longer had the heart for it. Another must spirit the hope to Liam’s people, for she could not withstand one more loss in her life.

No one said anything more, everyone falling silent to match the gloom about them. Alianor slipped the chain over her head and hooked the cross over a branch jutting from the log. She winced when it clinked against the wood and glanced around, wondering if the men had heard. They were all too busy commiserating in their mutual misery under the canvas, too wet and hungry for thoughts of anything save a fire and a full cook pot.

Quietly she rose, shrugging off the canvas and making for the woods as if she answered a call of nature. She gave Turrean a pat on her big wet head in passing and told her to stay. A quick look over her shoulder revealed no undue interest in her casual departure. Even Turrean remained huddled with the men to avoid the rain.

Taking a deep breath, she entered the woods, despair guiding her steps in the stormy darkness. Her woolen clothing was soaked, hanging like sackcloth upon her slender frame. She shook back the dripping shirt cuffs, and stopped a couple of times to roll up the hems on the trews, fearing she’d trip and sprawl face-first in the mud.

Threading through the dripping trees, Alianor headed for the encampment of the King’s soldiers. Connacht must look to another for her savior. She had tried, but it seemed fate conspired in every way to prevent her return to Wolf Haven. Surely they must know of Liam’s capture by now. What did they need her for? How could one lone woman do anything to change things? She couldn’t even get back to Wolf Haven by herself.

And now, by dragging a pure-hearted soul like Seth into her problems, she faced losing him, too. He believed the legend. He believed in her. It all had been a foolish idea, a folly she could not possibly accomplish. It was hopeless and she knew it.

Frustrated and disheartened, she plodded on. She was so tired and Seth’s plan was the final straw. Alianor couldn’t allow him to do it. The King’s soldiers wanted her, not these men. It didn’t matter they were hardened criminals — she would not let any be harmed for her sake. Within a short span of time she had grown to trust them and love them as brothers. To fail them, as she had her own dear brother, was not an option.

Darkness made it nearly impossible to see. She trudged on, blinded by rain, determined Seth’s insane notion never see light. Someone would find the cross she left on the log — let someone else carry the burden. Perhaps Paddy with his bit of bard heritage could spread its glorious legend in his songs. Or perhaps sweet, simple Willie, with his child-like faith and eager devotion, was the one meant to take
Seòd Fios
home.

A shadow reared up before her, blocking her escape. Alianor ran into it before she could stop herself or turn away. “Seth,” she cried, startled by his sudden appearance.

“What mischief are you about, colleen?” he demanded, folding his brawny arms across his chest, the cross dangling from his fist. Rain ran off him in rivulets as he stood straddle-legged and squarely in her path like an unmovable block of stone.

She swallowed hard, considered her choices. He wasn’t a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination so she cast aside her first impulse, which was to brazen it out with a lie. “I’m surrendering myself, Seth.”

“The hell you are, colleen.” He glowered at her though the rain, his dark eyes intense. “There’s a sacrifice t’ be made, aye, but ’tis no’ going t’ be you.”

“Seth, please …”

“Nay, I’ll hear no more argument.
Seòd Fios
must be protected, no matter the cost. You’re part of the legend, Alianor. You canno’ be lost or ’twill no’ come t’ pass.”

“I refuse to let you do this,” she said, sobbing.

“Hush, colleen.” He reached out, drew her against his broad chest in a comforting bear-hug. He smoothed her wet hair, crooning softly in Gaelic while Alianor wept so hard she gasped for air. “’Tis the only way an’ you know it.”

She shook her head, choking on the tears. Seth rumbled deep in his chest, hugging her, patting her back in an awkward, yet brotherly fashion. “Hist, sweetling, ’tis all right.”

“Nothing is all right. Nothing!” Alianor burrowed her face into his shirt, while her left hand slid down to his waist. She knew he wore his dirk there in a leather sheath, and she was prepared to hold him at bay and proceed with her plan.