The Emerald Isle (36 page)

“’Tis stuff and nonsense. People expect you to be special, but I am an ordinary woman. I want only to be like everyone else.”

“Come now.” His words were heavy with rebuke. “You can’t expect me to believe that. Would an ordinary woman dress like a man to best Lord Richard’s archers? Would an ordinary woman offer herself to stand as a human target? Would an ordinary woman slip away from her father’s fortress to go riding with one of the enemy?”

“That’s quite enough,” she retorted, a heavy dose of sarcasm in her own voice. “All right, so I’m different. But I would be different even if I were the daughter of Felim the
man
, not Felim the king. It’s”—she flung out her hand, as if trying to pull the right word out of the air—“it’s the
position
I despise. I love my father, but I don’t want to be known as a king’s daughter. I don’t want to be set apart from other people, don’t you see? If you’re thinking I want to be fussed over, then you’re not knowing me at all, Sir Colton.”

“I know you well enough.” He looked at her with lazy laughter in his eyes. “And I know enough of the world to realize that if you don’t have the confidence to live your position publicly, you don’t really have a position at all. You see, before I took my test of knighthood, I was a lowly squire. I worked in the garrison and served the
other knights. But even as a squire I could tell knights from ordinary men even when they were dressed alike in simple tunics. How? By their attitudes. Sworn knights are confident of their position, for they’ve earned it and fought for it. Another man might pretend, but he would wilt in a time of trouble.”

She threw him a quick frown, then looked away to consider his statement. Why were the Normans so conscious of
position?
In their world everyone had a place on the social ladder, and a man could not be judged until he had learned his place and studied how to keep to it. And what position did she have? None, really. She hadn’t fought for anything. Everything had been handed to her.

“This is not Normandy,” she answered, lifting her gaze to meet his again. “I haven’t had to fight for what you call ‘my position.’ Perhaps that’s why I don’t want it.”

“Position,” Colton went on, his eyes fixed on the horizon as if he hadn’t heard her, “is obtained through commitment, and obedience must follow. Obedience, however, requires inconvenient and unpleasant sacrifices. No doubt your father has discovered this…as have you.”

She stared at the trail, thinking of her father’s haggard face. Ever since he had inherited the mantle of leadership, worry stole his sleep and sapped his strength. He had not worn a smile since Richard had come to Connacht.

“Cahira, like it or not, you are a king’s daughter. Out of respect for him, I want to ask for your hand. He will respect me if I go—”

“He will kill you!” She stared at him, her heart pounding. “This position you hold in such high regard will require him to sacrifice my happiness!”

“Perhaps not.” His voice was low and soothing; apparently he had given his argument a great deal of thought. “I have faith in God and in your father. My love toward you is honorable.”

“Colton, my father does not trust any Norman, especially none affiliated with Richard de Burgo. I have faith in God too, faith that he will bless us if we follow our hearts. After we are married, time will
soften my father’s heart. I cannot speak for your master, but I know my people will accept us…in time.”

He looked at her, his eyes dark and remote, as if he had pulled away to consider her words. He did not leave her comfortless, however, for he reached out and pressed his hand over hers, squeezed it tight, then pulled away and urged his horse forward.

She followed, knowing that he wanted time to think.

The slanting rays of the sun had streaked the water crimson by the time Cahira pointed toward a curving path that cut through the sweeping willows and thick hawthorn that edged the river. Colton pulled back on his reins, allowing Cahira to lead the way to a clearing on the riverbank. She dismounted in a flurry of skirts, then stepped forward and lifted her face to the lowering sun, allowing its rays to gild her skin with radiant beauty.

Colton dismounted as well, then gestured for Oswald and Sorcha to do the same. Before dismounting, Oswald pointed to Colton and lifted a brow. “You will pay for this, my friend. I had not planned on a full day in the saddle.”

“Be a man—and be quiet,” Colton retorted, waving his friend away.

Leaving Oswald to help the maid, Colton jogged after Cahira, who had wandered down a path along the water’s edge. He followed her to the shoreline, then gazed in amazement at the shining surface of the water. The river seemed to end here, for the shoreline curved away toward the east and then southward again, forming a nearly perfect circle. Yet there were no waterfalls, no mountains, no obvious source of such a great river.

He ran his hand through his hair. “Is this the source?”

Cahira nodded. “’Tis
Log na Sionna
, the heart of the river. A sacred place.”

Colton stared at the watery landscape, understanding how such a beautiful spot could well be considered holy. A pair of dragonflies hung over the water near the shore, shining like emeralds. In unison,
they dipped toward the still water like a pair of lovers curious about their reflection, then rose and vanished into the mist.

“It is beautiful here.” He reached out and took Cahira’s hand, and something in him melted in relief when she did not pull away. Their disagreement on the trail could not tear them apart. There had to be a way for them to be together, and he would find it.

“There’s a log over here where we can sit.” Cahira tugged on his hand and beckoned him with a shy smile. “And if you’re careful, you won’t get a bit wet.”

He saw what she meant in the next moment. An ancient tree, as thick as a man’s shoulders, had toppled into the water so that it rested half in, half out of the tarn. It was not so much a tree now as a skeleton of one, leafless and scoured stone gray by the wind. But its surface was smooth and inviting.

He went first, stepping into the shallows as he swung one leg over the tree trunk. Straddling the trunk like a horse, he scooted toward the far end, then heard Cahira laughing softly as she lifted her skirts and followed. The skirt of her gown was full, he noticed ruefully, so he’d get no more than another glimpse of ankle as she inched her way toward him.

“Don’t be looking at me, and mind where you’re going,” she scolded, catching his eye as she sidled toward him. “You’ll be falling in the lake before you know it, and with all that metal on you’re likely to sink like a rock.”

“I’ve been wearing this armor for years,” Colton retorted, grinning back at her. “It’s like a second skin. Besides, the water’s not deep.”

“’Tis a bottomless pit.”

“Impossible.”

“Are you not believing me? I’d not think it possible that you, a knight, could doubt a woman of my
position—
”

He looked back and saw wicked glee dancing in her green eyes. The sight was so irresistible that he reached back, intending to pull her toward him for a kiss. His hand caught nothing but empty air, however, and the sudden change in position threw him dangerously
off balance. He grappled for something to cling to, but the tree trunk was as smooth as polished glass. There was nothing to keep him from slipping into empty space.

“Cahira!” No sooner had her name slipped from his lips than he fell, head and shoulders first, into the lake. The cold water slapped at his face, then flooded his heavy mail tunic, pulling him down into darkness.

Staring upward, he saw Cahira’s startled eyes through the sun-streaked water, then her image receded and blended into a slivery brightness broken only by the submerged branches of the dark tree. These reached out to him like twisted arms, but all too quickly he slipped past their grasp. A cloud of silvery bubbles shot out of his mail armor and rushed past his face, while his feet, weighted by his heavy boots, carried him ever downward into a black abyss.

He struggled, churning his arms in sluggish movements that sounded muffled in his ears. The bright surface fled away at an increasing speed, the light growing dimmer as the waters around him thickened and pressed upon his ears and chest. In a moment of mindless panic he felt a scream rise at the back of his throat then choked it off, pressing his lips together to imprison his last breath. His chest burned with hot pinpricks from beneath his skin, and his ears pounded and roared. Then something cold pushed at him from the darkness and sent him hurtling back toward the light.

For an instant he thought he had met death. He wondered if the approaching light was a heavenly beacon, then the sound of watery movement filled his throbbing ears. His eyes widened as he rode a cold current upward toward the tree branches, then he bobbed up in the water only inches from the spot where he had fallen in.

Cahira was leaning toward him, one hand extended, her eyes large with concern. “Are you all right?” she asked, grasping his hand as he reached for her. “In faith, I should have warned you.”

Colton took a deep, shuddering breath, then hooked his other arm over one of the tree branches. The steady pressure beneath him
eased like a sigh of the river’s breath, and again he felt the tug of gravity at his boots. But he had a strong grip on the tree, and he wouldn’t let go.

With his blood still pounding thickly in his ears, he rested his cheek on the log’s smooth surface and turned to Cahira. “Forgive me for not believing you. You did say the water was deep.”

“Aye. But I should have added that no one ever drowns in
Log na Sionna.
Even the cattle rise back up to the surface.”

“A sacred place,” he repeated, panting. She straightened her posture and nodded primly, and Colton noticed that she had been certain enough of his ascent that she hadn’t even bothered to call for help. Though Sorcha stood on the shore, wide-eyed and pale, Oswald had remained on the trail with the horses. The lazy lout was probably fast asleep.

Taking another breath, he summoned strength from some place that hadn’t been paralyzed by fear and began to pull himself onto the log.

“Now you see,” Cahira said, and though her mouth smiled, her eyes did not, “that I would not lie to you, Colton. I know this land, and I know its people. And though I love you for wanting to speak to my father, I know ’twould be foolish. Believe me, love, and take my advice to heart.”

Looking up at her through a tumble of his drenched, dripping hair, Colton could only nod his agreement.

On the fourth day Cahira brought her own dire news to their meeting place at the river. “I’ve just learned that my father sent for Lorcan, the brehon,” she explained breathlessly as Colton dismounted. “I’m not certain, for no one has spoken directly to me, but I’m thinking he intends me to marry my kinsman Rian once the brehon arrives. Lorcan must be present to record important events, so I’m thinking ’tis marriage my father has in mind.”

Colton blinked in bafflement, then took her arm and drew her
away from Oswald and Sorcha. “Did you assent to this marriage? Does a vow exist between you and this Rian?”

“Of course not!” Cahira cried, hurt that Colton could even think such a thing. “But Rian is in line for my father’s position, and ’tis only natural that he should marry me in order to confirm his claim. We are friends, so I am fond of him, but I never promised him my love!”

“Then you shall not be required to give it.” Colton fell silent for a moment, then his brow wrinkled with an idea. “This brehon—has he the authority to perform a marriage as well as to record it?”

Cahira nodded absently. “Sure. The brehons are the keepers of Irish law. If he adjudicates a matter, the matter will stand.”

“Then let him judge us to be truly married. And we will let the matter stand.”

Her heart singing with delight, Cahira reached out and touched his surcoat.

“So tell me.” Colton’s dark eyes held more than a hint of flirtation. “Where might we find this brehon?”

Cahira shook her head. “I don’t know, but I think he will be already on his way. My father sent a messenger to find him, and the rider returned last night with news that Lorcan would arrive in two days. He and his student walk from rath to rath.”