[Samuel Barbara] The Black Angel(Book4You) (40 page)

Then Julian's defense was presented. Malvern had grievously wounded Lord Albury's sister, publicly bragging about his sexual exploits with her. What man would not take up that challenge?

Finally, Adriana was given a chance to speak. She stepped up to the box, hiding her trembling hands in her skirts. For a long minute, intimidated, she could not find her tongue. Then, at a frown from Gabriel, she lifted her chin. "Gentlemen, I would like to offer an alternative to these proceedings."

A murmur went up. The judge raised his hand and gave Adriana a nod.

"Thank you." She took a breath. "My brother acted as any gentleman would have. He defended me, his little sister, by challenging the man who insulted my honor. However—" Her hands stilled their trembling and she let them relax at her sides. "—I did not conduct myself in a manner befitting my station and breeding.

"Many of you knew my father, and you know that he took the death of my mother in a most grievous fashion. We all went to Martinque to be with him, and comfort him, and thus, those years when I should have been learning to walk correctly and speak correctly,
I spent running the beaches with my brothers, playing pirate."

A red-faced man she did not recognize stood up, "What has this to do with—"

The judge held up a hand. "Continue, Countess."

Adriana smiled faintly. "My error was in my belief that I was set apart from other women by my adventurous heart. If my mother had lived, she would have gently steered me in the right direction, but she did not. I learned to fight like a boy, and my heart was too lusty."

She had rehearsed this speech a dozen times before her mirror at home, and now bowed her head meekly. "I am ashamed of my willfulness in taking a lover, and I am even more ashamed that I did not insist upon dueling Malvern myself. If I wanted to play the man on one level, then I needed to be a man on all levels. As some of you have no doubt heard, I have chosen to defend myself in recent days, against the bold actions of man who wished to explore the truth of my scarlet reputation."

Suppressed smiles appeared here and there. Adriana waited.

"Are you finished?"

"No, my lord. I should like to offer myself as the object of transportation, to take Julian's punishment on my own shoulders. I ask to be transported to Ireland, and there live with my new husband, where I will be no offense to English society." She stepped back, then found Malvern's mother in the gallery. "And I do offer my most sincere apologies to Mrs. Pickering on the loss of her son."

Judgment was swift and relieved. The Lords agreed to transport Adriana to Ireland, where she was to remain for a period of two years, effective immediately. In two years she could again visit her family and ancestral home, but if she ever took up a sword or was discovered in a compromising situation, the banishment would be extended to the whole of her lifetime. Julian was free.

They gathered in the drawing room some hours later. Adriana and Fiona were dressed as men. In this instance it was not nearly as unusual as in some cases. Women traveling the dangerous roads often donned men's garb to make the journey, and Adriana had insisted Fiona do the same.

She felt equal parts apprehension, excitement, and sorrow as her brothers stood to bid her farewell. She hugged Gabriel first, smelling the oil in his hair and the spicy water he liked to wear. His lean, long body was not nearly as thin as it had been only a few weeks before, and his arms were fierce as he embraced her. Tears gathered thickly in her throat, and she put her forehead against his shoulder. "I've only just got you back, and now I must let you go again," she whispered. "Write to me often!"

"Yes," he whispered, then let her go, and from his pocket took a fistful of wildflowers, only slightly crumbled. "I did not forget."

Tears spilled over as she accepted the offering, then clutching the flowers in her fist, she turned to Julian, feeling somehow shy with him. They'd barely spent a day's time together in all of this, and she felt his secrets and sorrows still buried in a tight little lump within him. "As soon as you are able, please come to Ireland. I have missed you."

And Julian, who had always been careful to reveal as little as possible, flung an arm around her and hugged her so tight she thought he would break her neck. "I will," he said. "I promise." Against her hair he whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Riana. And so glad you've found your love." He pulled back. "I am here now to see to our estates and our sisters. Go to your husband."

She nodded and stepped back, looking around her one last time.

"It isn't far," Gabriel said. "We'll come stomping around in such numbers and so often you'll be glad to be rid of us."

It was a long and arduous trip to the ferry at Holyhead, and took three days instead of the two the coachman had promised, thanks to the wheel-sucking mud. But at last they were aboard the ferry, on a sea that was calm in spite of the threatening clouds.

Adriana was stunned to discover how much she had missed the taste of sea air, and spent the long afternoon hours on deck, watching the waves spread away from the ferry in long, triangular swaths. Beneath her fingers the rail was crusted with salt, and by evening her own skin was similarly thick.

Mid-passage, they encountered a squall that sent the boat rocking and bucking, and most of the passengers scurrying for buckets, but although she allowed herself to be entreated to go belowdecks, Adriana still did not mind the rocking. It brought back a thrilling host of memories, and she thought that someday she would like to sail again. All these years, she had missed the sea, missed beaches and the roar of the winds and the lap of the waves and the unmatchable scent of salt and fish and water.

At Dublin they hired another coach, and it was yet another long drive across a countryside so green as to burn her eyes.

Her spirits till now had been high. All would be well. Her brothers were safe on English soil. Her sisters were looked after. The family seat could be coaxed to prosperity once again. And she had found her love.

And her first glimpse of Ireland seemed to only fuel that intensity of joy. Everywhere she saw Tynan—saw that wild beauty of his face, the untamed wonder of his heart and spirit. She thought, staring out of the window of the carriage, of his teasing words, that you could imagine the old kings riding over a hill at any turn. And as they passed mysterious glades, lonely under the gray and boiling sky, she thought of Fiona's description of the fairy folk here.
Beautiful, but dangerous, too
.

She could not stop drinking it in, feasting her eyes.

And then she began to see the cottages. And the folk who lived in them. Mean hovels and people with rags on their feet, their shoulders stooped with poverty. This was not the well-fed peasantry she knew. There were no neat plots of vegetables in side yards, no children running in the lanes, screeching.

Mile after mile. So many of them.

In alarm she looked at Fiona. "Why are they so desperately poor?"

Fiona looked out the window. "Catholic," she said, as if the answer were obvious.

Catholic.

What do you know of Ireland, Adriana'
! Tynan had asked her.

Nothing, she had to answer now. She had known nothing. The depth of her ignorance made tears spring to her eyes, made her heart ache for her husband, for only now did she understand what had caused that darkness in his eyes.

Fiona reached across the carriage and, in a most unseemly but welcome move, covered Adriana's hand with her own. Around the thickness in her throat Adriana asked, "And you, Fiona? Your family—are they out there?"

The maid only turned her face to the window. She nodded and drew from beneath her dress a crucifix that had lain hidden all this time. A crucifix she lifted now to her lips and let fall again, over her dress, in plain sight.

They did not arrive at Glencove till after the sun had set, mid-afternoon, on the sixth day after they left London. Both of them were stiff and cold and hungry, but the dark towers looming at the top of the hill did not appear particularly welcoming. "Here we are," the coachman said.

Adriana stared up at the crenellated tower and felt suddenly terrified at the reception she might face. After all, she did not know how Tynan would feel about her arrival. She thought of him in his bedroom at the town house, when she'd awakened to find him with his head in his hands in the middle of the night, could only remember the darkness that could cloud his eyes, and she was afraid.

Fiona stood beside her uncertainly. "Milady?"

She squared her shoulders. "Bring our bags," she ordered the coachman, and strode toward the heavy door, which swung open as she mounted the steps. It creaked loudly, as if giving warning, and Adriana couldn't help the nervous giggle that rose in her throat at the man who came out, tall and gaunt, white hair grown down to his shoulders in a thin mass.

In a most unfriendly tone, he uttered something in Gaelic. Alarmed, Adriana looked at Fiona. "What?"

"He wants you to state your business," she said, and grimaced. In an equally sharp tone, the girl rattled off a long rolling string of syllables in the same tongue. Adriana heard her name, but made out nothing else.

But it seemed effective. With a surprised grunt, the man moved backward, waving them in. "Where is Lord Glencove?" she asked.

"Wait here." He left them in a room that might have been cheerful had the fire been lit, the drapes open. Instead she shivered, apprehension crawling up her spine. She carefully did not look at Fiona.

The man returned. "Come on, then."

He led them through a cold passageway and up a set of stairs into what would have been a great hall in another century. It had been richly decorated with rugs, and tapestries hung on the walls, and a very warm, bright fire burned in a stag-sized hearth. Candles in an iron candelabra over the table cast long shadows up to the heavy beams of the ceiling, and cast them down upon the man who sat at the table, alone.

Adriana could not help herself—she laughed. "Why, Fiona, I believe we've stumbled into a Gothic novel. And who could that man be but the mysterious lord of the manor?" She strode over to the fire and warmed herself, covering her unease with a bright smile. "We're frozen to death, Tynan, and starving, too."

Only then did she see the gauntness of his lean cheeks, the dark circles below his beautiful eyes. His hair was loose on the shoulders of his shirt, open at the neck. "What are you doing here, Riana?" he said gruffly.

Pierced, she only looked at him, and realized she had anticipated a much different reaction. She'd expected to see him coming back down the hall himself, an expression of joy on his face. She had expected a wild embrace, a passionate kiss.

She swallowed and lifted her chin. "I am here to be with my husband. What else?"

He bowed his head. "Did your brother tell you the truth?"

"He did."

His eyes closed in an expression of defeat, and Adriana did not know whether to comfort him or slap him. She stayed where she was, frozen in uncertainty, nonplussed by her reception.

At last he raised his head. "Forgive me." He stood, gestured with one long-fingered, graceful hand to the table. "Please come sit. You, too, Fiona—we stand on less ceremony here. I'll call for some supper." He nodded at his man, hovering by the door like a praying mantis. "'Twill only be bread and cheese and apples tonight. We've buried seven men, and one was the son of my cook."

"Tynan, I am so sorry." Adriana reached for his hand, but as if he could not bear her touch, he pulled away.

Fiona stood. "Well, I know how to cook. You could stand with a meal yourself, my lord, by the look of you. Tell me where the kitchen is, and I'll make us all something simple and hot to warm our bones."

The expression on Tynan's face lightened as he looked at the country maid, and Adriana felt the most irrational sense of jealousy at Fiona's inherent usefulness. "I would be grateful," he said, then hesitated. "Tell James to bring it to my chamber later."

So he wouldn't even sit with her and have a meal, Adriana thought. In misery, she bowed her head.

When Fiona had gone, however, Tynan moved close and touched her shoulder. "I am humbled by your appearance here, Adriana, and I do appreciate your loyalty, but you may not stay."

A sorrow sailed through her. "Tynan!"

He shook his head, stubbornness on his mouth. "You do not know…" He sighed. "I have decided not to buy a seat in the English parliament. My work is here. Your life will be easier there."

"Tynan, stop it!" She stood and put her hands on his face. "I want to be here, with you."

Gently, he took her hand away. "No," he said simply. "I'll see that you're made comfortable. Forgive me, but I must go now."

And as if they'd never kissed, never held each other through long nights of joy, he moved away, his back straight, his hair tumbling in a heavy fall down his back. Her husband.

Who did not, after all, want her.