Wild Angel (17 page)

"Aud, my ankle’s feeling much better. I think I’ll
walk the rest of the way by myself. Why don’t you accompany the O’Nolan back to
the hall?"

As if her suggestion had burst a spell, Aud was
suddenly at her side, her hands slightly trembling as she took Triona’s arm. "No,
no, sweeting, I’ll help you."

"Aye, you shouldn’t be walking alone,"
interjected the chieftain, although he sounded disappointed.

"I’m fine," Triona insisted, gently breaking
free of Aud and walking a few steps just to prove to both of them that she was
practically no longer limping. "See?"

"Are you sure, sweeting?"

Triona’s answer was to turn back around and keep
walking, smiling to
herself
when a moment later she
heard another giggle followed by a burst of robust laughter. She didn’t look
over her shoulder until she reached the dwelling-house. By then, there was no
sign of Aud or the O’Nolan.

Triona laughed, suddenly quite pleased with herself.
Now she felt like the matchmaker! But it didn’t take her long to sober when she
thought of how angry Ronan would be when he learned she’d not be going to
Carlow. Yet it was his own fault for scowling so much and giving the O’Nolan
the wrong impression!

She shrugged. Let Ronan do what he would. He was
proving his own worst enemy, which was fine with her. At this rate he’d not be
done with her until
she
was ready to
leave Glenmalure.

***

"Where the devil is he?"

"You brought the O’Nolan here to woo Triona,
brother. Mayhap that’s exactly what he’s doing."

Ronan thrust himself back in his chair, bracing his
foot on the table as he glared out over the boisterous hall. At first he had
attempted to appear unconcerned that the chieftain still hadn’t returned; now
nearly a full hour later he could barely contain himself.

"If you’re implying what I think you are, Niall,
then you’re wrong.
Triona would never let him near her . . .
at least not so soon."

"No? She seemed to enjoy his company well enough
tonight, laughing at his stories, eating the food he set on her plate—"

"Drinking the wine he poured for her." Maire’s
normally sweet voice was edged with a hint of reproach.

"Aye, so she did," Niall agreed as he glanced
at his sister. "But then, mayhap Ronan didn’t notice—"

"I noticed." Seeing Niall’s slow smile—and
the curious light in Maire’s eyes—Ronan angrily added, "I noticed that all
was going as it should be. If I’m any judge, Taig has found himself another
wife."

"Then drink with me, brother!" Not smiling
any longer, Niall raised his cup. "Your duty to Fineen O’Toole will soon
be ended! That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?" When Ronan didn’t respond,
Niall leaned over in his chair and said in a low aside, "Don’t concern
yourself
with the O’Nolan’s absence. He and Triona are
probably playing chess."

Ronan slammed his cup upon the table, scarcely noticing
that the hall had suddenly become less noisy. Many of his clansmen turned his
way as he rose while Niall looked up at him in mock surprise.

"You didn’t like my toast?"

"Stay here with Maire, little brother, and tend to
our guests. I don’t want to cause an alarm."

"If you’re going to search for the O’Nolan, you
might find that he won’t welcome the intrusion."

"I’ll take that risk. Better
that
than to find him dead like
Seamus."

At least Ronan tried to tell himself that was his
reasoning for leaving the hall. Yet something else was driving him, something
he didn’t want to name. By God, here he was incredibly hoping that Triona had
made some drastic move and he wouldn’t find her with the O’Nolan!

"Get hold of
yourself
,
man," Ronan muttered, scanning the darkened yard for any sight of the
chieftain. Surely if his guards had seen anything suspicious, they would have
reported to him immediately. And since they hadn’t, the feast continuing
undisturbed, that could only mean . . .

It seemed Ronan was at Triona’s door in a moment’s
time. His jaw tightened painfully as he forced himself to knock rather than
kicking it down. No answer came so he knocked again, louder. He heard Conn
growling, then a sleepy voice calling, "Aud? Is that you?"

At least Triona was in her room. But alone?

Ronan’s
breath
jammed as he thrust
open the door, his eyes adjusting to the faint light cast by a flickering oil
lamp. Conn lay on the floor, his tail thunking heavily, while Triona bolted
upright in bed, the covers clutched to her breast.

"Ronan?"

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Taig O’Nolan, woman!"

"Why, in the hall with you . . . isn’t he?"

Ronan’s fierce relief was short-lived as fury swept
him. "No! He never returned!"

Triona gasped as Ronan was beside the bed in two
strides. Suddenly she was wrenched from beneath the covers to her knees, Ronan’s
fingers biting cruelly into her arms.

"I said the O’Nolan never returned," he
repeated, his voice ominously low. "You will tell me what happened from
the moment you left the hall, Triona." He gave her a rude shake. "Do
you hear me?"

"Nothing happened!"

"Something did or the O’Nolan would have come back
to the hall. Did he try to kiss you? Is that what happened? He tried to kiss
you and you somehow retaliated, knocked him over the head, kicked him,
punched
him—"

"Why do you care if he kissed me?" Triona
demanded, growing furious at his rough handling. "That’s what you would
have wanted him to do, isn’t it?"

"I could not care a whit if he
did,
I just want to know what happened afterward—"

"Damn you, O’Byrne! I’ve never been kissed so
obviously that didn’t happen, or I’m sure I would have known about it!"

Her outburst hung in the air as the room fell silent,
Ronan’s eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"You’ve never been kissed?"

The huskiness of his voice sent shivers spiraling from
her stomach to her toes. Suddenly acutely aware of how closely he held her, his
silvery eyes blazing into hers, Triona found she had only a bare whisper of
voice to answer.

"No. Nev—"

His lips came down upon hers before she could pull
away, Ronan’s arms enveloping her so tightly that she feared for a fleeting
moment she might be crushed. But her fear disappeared when his mouth began
moving over hers, slowly at first as if sampling the taste of her, savoring the
warmth of her, the feel of her . . . then more hungrily as if he liked very
much what he’d found and meant to devour her.

And she was certain she was being devoured when his
tongue suddenly swept deep into her mouth, one hand plunging through her hair
to tilt back her head while the other drew her that much closer . . . so close
she could feel his heartbeat thundering against her breast. Or was it hers to
match the blood pounding in her ears?

Within an instant, the sound had grown to a deafening
roar, her fingers clutching wildly at his tunic as a raging heat suddenly
engulfed her from head to toe. Yet no sooner had her tongue begun to spar with
his in a thrilling dance that sent her senses spinning and her insides melting
then she heard him groan, his body tensing.

"By God, woman, if you’d been kissed before you
would have saved me a lot of trouble."

Triona’s eyes shot open as Ronan lifted his head away
from hers though he still held her tightly around the waist . . . as if reluctant
to let her go. But when he spoke again his voice was no longer husky.

"I’d wager if you’d known how much you would like
a man’s touch, you would have married long ago."

She slapped him across the face almost before she was
aware she’d raised her hand. Her body trembled in outrage and chagrin that she
could have so wantonly lost all control of herself.

"Is that the kind of retaliation you meant, O’Byrne?
A blow? Or perhaps something harsher?"

He dodged to the side before her doubled fist could
slam into his stomach, catching her as she almost toppled forward from the bed.
In the next moment, her arms were pinned painfully behind her back, his face
only inches from her own.

"You will tell me what happened to the O’Nolan . .
."

"I don’t know!" Triona cried, tears smarting
her eyes from how fiercely he held her. "When I saw him last he was
walking back to the hall with Aud!"

"Aud? You set your maid to do your devious
bidding?"

"Of course not! He seemed to have taken a liking
to her after he told me he didn’t want to marry me."

Ronan released her so suddenly that she fell back onto
the mattress, almost landing on Maeve who screeched and jumped to the floor.
Conn had long since risen to his feet, his big brown eyes looking uncertainly
from Ronan to Triona as he began to whine.

"Now you’ve upset everybody!" she blurted,
tears to her dismay tumbling down her cheeks. "Why don’t you just leave—
"

"Not until I find out why you’ve concocted such a
lie."

"It’s no lie! Find the O’Nolan and ask him! He
told me that he wasn’t going to stand in your way . . . that he could see
plainly that you wanted me for yourself. I tried to tell him he was wrong . . .
and he even said that you’ve long told him you’ve no time for a wife—"

"Aye, and I meant it," Ronan cut in, more
deeply stung by Triona’s tears than he’d ever admit. "I don’t want you. I
don’t want anybody! The only thing I want is vengeance . . . vengeance and if
God is merciful, some peace."

He stopped as his throat tightened, realizing he had
given voice to things never before said. Without another word he headed for the
door, not surprised when Triona shouted after him, her voice strangely ragged, "I
don’t want you either, O’Byrne! You’re the last man I’d ever think to wed!"

"You will wed, Triona. That I promise." Ronan
swallowed hard against long pent-up emotion that threatened to overcome him as
he faced her from the doorway. "And
rest assured, it won’t
be me
. When I convince the O’Nolan of that, you’ll be journeying to
Carlow as his bride."

He ducked
out,
slamming the
door behind him just as a pillow came hurtling through the air.

Chapter 15

"AT LEAST THE rest of your evening was more
enjoyable than mine," Triona muttered, staring out the window at the rain
coming down in sheets.

"Aye, well, it was until the O’Byrne came crashing
at my door." Looking up from her mending, Aud shook her head. "Taig
wasn’t at all pleased, I can tell you."

"Taig is it now?" Triona couldn’t help
smiling as she glanced over her shoulder, for the moment her mood feeling a
little brighter. She wasn’t surprised to see Aud blush. Her maid had been doing
it all morning.

"Aye, he told me it was only fair since he was
calling me by my given name." As Aud smiled, some secret memory making her
plain face look younger than her thirty-nine years, Triona heaved a sigh.

"You should have gone with him to Carlow, Aud. Far
away from this miserable place."

"And leave you here all alone with that—that Black
O’Byrne? No wonder they call him by such a name! It would surely describe his
mood when Taig said he was no longer looking for a bride . . . at least not one
with coppery hair, if you don’t mind me saying so."

"Why should I mind?" Triona traced her finger
over the foggy patch her breath had left on the window. "You’ve always
wanted me to be happy. Why wouldn’t I want the same for you?" Suddenly she
cursed, realizing she had written Ronan’s name on the glass.

"Triona?"

"It’s nothing, Aud." Triona swiped across the
window with her palm; she wished she could just as easily erase the memory of
Ronan’s kiss from her mind.

She had scarcely slept last night thinking about it,
that, and everything he’d said to her, the spawn. At least one thing hadn’t
changed since she’d left Imaal. Ronan wanted nothing to do with her and she
wanted nothing to do with him.

A sudden pang made Triona curse again as she shoved
away from the window.

"Your ankle, sweeting?"

"Aye," Triona lied, not wanting to tell her
maid what was really plaguing her. It was all so absurd. One kiss shouldn’t
have caused this hollow ache deep inside her. Not even a kiss as wonderful, as
dizzyingly hard to forget as Ronan’s.

"Ha! It wasn’t that incredible," she groused
to herself as she plopped onto her bed and toyed absently with Maeve’s
switching tail. And, of course, she had nothing to compare it to. The whole
experience could have been quite ordinary.

She sighed, not believing that thought for a moment as
she flipped onto her back.

"Sweeting, whatever is troubling you? You’re as
restless as I’ve ever seen."

"Nothing, Aud." Although once again she had
lied.
Everything
was more the truth
of it!

"Well, you may be saying so, but I hope you’re not
fretting because I didn’t go to Carlow. If Taig O’Nolan’s as fond of me as he
claimed, he’ll wait as long as he has to—"

"But the two of you shouldn’t have to wait!"
Triona broke in vehemently, grateful for something to distract her. "You’ve
the right to live your own life, Aud. You’re not a slave, but free to come and
go as you choose."

"And I choose to stay here with you! From the
moment your father laid you in my arms, aye, no matter that you were wailing
like a banshee, your little face as red as could be, I swore to protect you.
Swore on a crucifix, and that lightning should strike me to the ground if I
ever failed you! So until you’re gone from this place, sweeting, I’ll be by
your side."

"Oh, Aud." Triona thrust herself from the bed
and rushed over to give her maid a fierce hug. "I only wish I knew when
that might be. I never asked Ronan yesterday if he’d heard any news yet from
Kildare, and I doubt now if he’d tell me anyway." Suddenly, she
brightened. "Niall might know—if I can find him alone to ask him."