Wild Angel (18 page)

"You think he’d tell you if they’d heard anything?"

"I hope so." Triona went to her clothing
chest and pulled out a pair of trousers and a shirt. The rain and mud were as
good an excuse as any to wear her favorite clothes again rather than silk or
fine linen. As she shed her light blue gown, she said almost to herself, "At
least Niall’s told me twice he’d help me if I ever needed it."

"A strange thing, if you ask me."

Triona dressed hurriedly, impatient to be on her way. "I
thought so, too, but I suppose I’ll find out today if he really meant it."

"You might discover more than you want if the O’Byrne
sees you in those trousers."

"He won’t," Triona said confidently, slipping
on a pair of hard-soled leather shoes. "My brown cloak will cover
everything. Besides, it’s raining too hard. A gown would just trail in the mud."
Ready at last, she wadded the gown into a ball and tossed it to
Conn
. To her delight, the wolfhound caught it between his
jaws and shook the garment ferociously. "Good Conn! That more than matches
my feelings!"

"But not mine when I’ll have to mend it again,"
Aud chided as Triona rushed to retrieve the sodden garment.

"Too bad you didn’t do the same thing to Ronan
last night," she said softly, rubbing Conn’s ears. "But you’ve taken
a liking to him, only the saints know why."

"Here you
go,
sweeting."

Triona hurried back to Aud and shrugged into the cloak,
then settled the hood over her hair. "I’ll be back soon. And don’t forget
to keep Conn here with you. He’d lead Ronan right to me."

"Aye, it wouldn’t be wise for you to be found
consorting with the O’Byrne’s own brother, now would it?"

Triona shook her head, gave Aud a peck on the
cheek
and then flew out the door. Luckily, there was no sign
of Ronan as she passed his room, though the door was open, the interior dark
and silent. Praying she wouldn’t encounter him, she drew the hood more tightly
around her face as she stepped outside.

If it had been raining in sheets a short while ago, now
it seemed that the boiling gray sky had opened up with a vengeance, the
downpour a deluge. But Triona wasn’t daunted as she lowered her head and
hurried toward Niall’s dwelling-house. She loved storms, the louder the thunder
the better.

"You there, out of the way!"

"What . . .?" Glancing up, Triona barely had
a moment to dodge the two riders bearing down upon her. Mud splattered her from
head to foot as their horses galloped by. Realizing that they must have just
ridden through the gates, she grew tense with excitement.

Might they have come from Kildare? From their urgency,
her instincts were telling her that it must be so. Seeing that they had
dismounted and rushed into the hall, she imagined they had gone to report to
Ronan. She hurried across the yard, unable to run because of her sore ankle,
but so excited she hardly noticed.

She was grateful when several other clansmen joined her
at the entrance, apparently having seen the riders as well. As they all
hastened inside, stamping their feet and shaking the rain from their cloaks,
Triona kept to the back, using their bulk to conceal her presence. Thankfully
no one was paying her any heed. All eyes were trained to the front of the hall
where Ronan had stood to meet the riders, all ears listening to the breathless
announcement.

"Lord, news from Kildare! Maurice de Roche has left
his castle with a small force to journey southward. He goes to meet the Norman
King John who landed in Waterford with his forces only two days’ past."

"So it’s no longer a rumor," one of the
clansmen standing in front of Triona commented gruffly to his neighbor. "That
bastard has finally come to Eire to crush the rebellion among his own vassals."

"Aye, may they all butcher each other!"
hissed another man as Ronan’s commanding voice carried to them.

"A small force?"

"Aye, Lord. Ten knights. The rest will join the
baron when King John’s army arrives in Dublin—"

"So they think." Ronan’s tone had grown
harsh. "But their liege lord is a dead man. King John will find a nice
Irish welcome waiting for him on his march north . . . eleven Norman corpses
swinging from a tree."

Triona ducked as Ronan suddenly looked out across the
hall at the men surrounding her.

"Arm yourselves and prepare to ride! Tell the
others to meet at the gates as soon as they’re ready. Now go! If we’re to catch
de Roche, we’ve no time to waste."

Triona gasped as the clansmen who’d served as her
shield seemed to lunge as one body for the doors, leaving her to scramble after
them. But Ronan had already turned his attention back to the exhausted riders.
And thanks to the pouring rain, none of the men wasted a glance on her as
several ran for the stable while others branched out to pound upon doors and
raise the alarm.

Triona, too, headed for the stable. The day had come!
She had hoped to prepare, knowing little of Normans, but she would just have to
rely on the skills she already possessed. First she needed a horse, but she
couldn’t ride Laeg. Ronan would surely recognize . . .

Suddenly she stopped, realizing that Ronan might very
well come to check on her before he left the stronghold, despite his call for
haste. If she wasn’t there, he might guess her plans. He already suspected her.

"Ninny," she grumbled, quickly making her way
back to her dwelling-house. Just in time, too. Shooting a glance over her
shoulder just before she went inside, Triona felt her heart jump as she saw
Ronan leaving the hall.

She ran to her room, cursing the lingering pain in her
ankle as she shoved open the door with a crash.

"Saints preserve us, Triona, you startled me!"

"Tell Ronan I’m resting, Aud. Nothing more!"
Muddy cloak,
shoes
and all, Triona dove into the bed
and pulled the covers to her ears, then rolled over so her back would be facing
the door.

"Oh, sweeting, I just changed those sheets! And
you’ve tracked water all over the floor—"

"I did?" Sitting up to look, Triona felt her
heart sink. It was dark enough in the outer room that Ronan might not notice
the floor was wet but in here, with all the windows . . . "Aud, do
something! If he sees the mess—"

"Lie down!" Aud commanded sharply, her maid
using the very garment she had been mending to quickly wipe the floor dry. "And
that goes for you, too, Conn!"

"Aye, lie down, lie down!" Triona whispered,
her wolfhound nudging her fingers with his cold nose as she signaled to him to
drop. Pitching back onto her side, she heard a heavy Chunk as Conn’s elbows hit
the floor and she knew he had obeyed.

Only when she heard Aud’s chair creak, her maid humming
softly as she resumed her needlework, did Triona breathe a sigh of relief. The
picture of quiet serenity that she wanted Ronan to see had been restored. But
she froze when she heard his approaching footsteps. Her rampant heartbeat was
anything but serene as she listened to his hand turn the latch.

"She’s resting, Lord," Aud murmured, Triona
not moving a muscle as she felt Ronan’s suspicious eyes upon her.

"This early in the day? Is she ill?"

"No, Lord, just weary from last evening. She told
me she didn’t sleep well last night."

That was true enough, Triona thought, forcing
herself
to breathe steadily and slowly though she felt as if
she couldn’t breathe at all. But she wished Aud hadn’t told him!

"She’s not alone in that,"
came
Ronan’s terse response just before he closed the door.

Triona smiled in triumph. She wished she could have
seen the look on Ronan’s face when Taig O’Nolan told him that he could keep the
new cook but the chieftain no longer had any interest in taking a bride. Aye,
she hoped Ronan would lose many nights of sleep over that news! But her smile
faded when she heard a key grind in the lock. She flung aside the covers in
outrage.

"Why that—"

"Sshh, now, he’ll hear you!"

At that moment, Triona almost didn’t care. Almost. In
the next instant, she was across the room and listening at the door. Listening
and waiting, her cheeks hot and her pulse racing. When she was certain Ronan
had left the dwelling-house, she returned to the bed and retrieved her dagger
from beneath the mattress.

"What are you doing, sweeting? Why do you need—
"

"My chance has finally come, Aud." Triona
secured the weapon in her belt.

"Chance?"

"To avenge my father." Seeing the stricken
look on Aud’s face, Triona spared a moment to give her a reassuring hug,
then
she went to one of the sturdy-backed chairs that had
once belonged to her parents. Thankfully, it wasn’t as heavy as it appeared.

"I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Aud, so you’ll
have to help Maire exercise her legs as you did this past week while I was
abed.
Aye,
and you’ll have to hang something to keep
the rain out." With that, Triona swung the chair at the nearest window,
averting her eyes as the fine Norman glass shattered.

"Sweeting!"

Triona heard the anguish in Aud’s voice but she didn’t
allow herself to look back as she climbed out the window. Pulling the hood of
her cloak back over her hair,
her
only thought now was
that somehow she had to find a horse and join Ronan’s men before they rode out
the gates.

She ran to the stable. She gave thanks again for the
relentlessly pounding rain that leant her anonymity as she hurried across the
yard. That and the fact that the stronghold resounded with commotion, thunder
booming overhead, clansmen shouting to each other, horses whinnying, wives and
children calling their farewells from doorways.

The stable, too, was in a furor as servants and
clansmen rushed to and fro; she barely had entered the dim interior when Ronan
rode right past her on his snorting black mount. But if she had escaped
his
notice, she almost was unmasked when
she slipped on the morass of mud and horse dung that the dirt floor had become.
A clansman reached out to grab her just before she went facedown into the
stinking muck.

"My—my thanks," she said as gruffly as she
could manage, keeping her head lowered. But her voice must not have been gruff
enough. Strong fingers lifted her chin.

"Triona?"

She gulped, looking straight into Niall’s eyes.

"Good God, what are you doing here?"

"Please, Niall, you must help me!" she said
in a desperate whisper, risking everything on the hope that he would
understand. "I must ride with you . . . after de Roche! If he’s to hang, I
deserve to be there!"

"But, Triona, it’s too dangerous. And if Ronan
discovers—"

"He won’t! Not if you don’t tell him. Now we haven’t
any more time! I need a horse." Seeing him still undecided, she added, "You
told me if there was anything you could do to help me, I had only to ask! Well,
damn you, I’m asking! Are you a liar, then, just like your brother?"

Niall pulled her over so sharply next to a nearby stall
that she gasped in surprise.

"Ronan is no liar, Triona. He’s a good man. An
honorable man who goes now to avenge your father. Remember that! Now take that
horse over there. His owner is abed with fever."

She gulped, nodding, then caught Niall’s sleeve as he
began to walk away. She wanted to say that she needed her bowcase but the frown
on his face—so like Ronan’s—made her hold her tongue. Obviously he was not
convinced that he’d made the right decision. She would have to content herself
with the dagger; luckily, her aim was as good with knives as with arrows.

"Thank you, Niall," she murmured.

His frown only grew deeper. "Save your thanks,
Triona. We’ve a long journey ahead of us and if Ronan spies you . . ."
Niall didn’t finish, shaking his dark head as he went to an opposite stall.

Triona shrugged off his chilling words and quickly
bridled her mount. The animal, a reddish brown gelding with a star on its
forehead, looked to be strong and healthy, but certainly not anywhere as
magnificent as Laeg. She cast a longing glance at her stallion. His ears
swiveled with interest at all the commotion, his low nickering telling her that
he sensed she was near.

"Are you coming?"

She started, glancing up as Niall rode past her. She
didn’t want to be the last one from the stable, so she pulled herself onto the
gelding’s
back and followed after Niall, grateful when
several other clansmen rode out with her at the same time.

She saw to her relief as she rode toward the gates that
she needn’t have worried Ronan might notice her. He and most of his men were
already galloping from the stronghold, leaving her, Niall and a dozen others to
bring up the rear.

Except she didn’t wait for Niall. Fearing he might
still change his mind, she kicked her mount into a canter and bolted through
the gates.

Chapter 16

RONAN SQUINTED AGAINST the cold drizzle slashing at his
face, his thoughts once more consumed by Triona despite his determination to
keep his mind upon the Norman quarry he and his men had been pursuing half the
breadth of Leinster.

So she hadn’t slept well last night. Well, neither had
he, damn her.

By God, he should never have kissed her! Then he wouldn’t
have been tormented with burning memories he would sooner forget . . . how
incredibly soft her lips had been, how sweet she had tasted, how good she had
smelled . . . and how damned close he had come to losing all command of himself
when she began to kiss him back—

"Leave it!" he muttered, forcing his thoughts
instead to the curses she would hurl at him when he returned with the news that
Baron Maurice de Roche had eluded him. Cursing himself, Ronan could no longer
deny that to continue this chase would be sheer folly.