Wild Angel (29 page)

Ronan had virtually told her that
himself
the day he came to Imaal, saying he no longer used a bow. Yet according to her
father, Ronan had been one of his finest students. And when they’d gone hunting
yesterday, Ronan had claimed he preferred javelins. Why else would he have
abandoned the bow if not because of what he’d done to Conor?

"But of course, you weren’t listening to him—only
thinking of yourself." Triona shoved on her shoes, disgusted.

Just as she hadn’t listened during their journey from
Imaal when she’d asked him why he didn’t laugh anymore or smile. He’d offered
no explanation other than that people change. Aye, even then she hadn’t
understood.

He’d claimed that he had no time for marriage, too,
Triona pondered as she hastened to the door, Conn padding along behind her. Yet
she’d given that statement no special consideration either, as if it were a
common thing for a man not to want a wife and family. Might his reluctance also
have something to do with Conor’s death?

Triona sighed as she left her room, so much still
making little sense to her. Especially that Ronan had seemed to care so deeply
about what she thought of him.

Her gaze flew to the hearth, the fire died down to
glowing embers, her chair still overturned. Flies buzzed around the wine cup
that she had no recollection of dropping, while Conn sniffed curiously at the
opposite wall streaked with red.

Triona felt a rush of remorse, remembering Ronan’s
tormented face when he’d flung his cup across the room. Torment she’d only
compounded with her cruel accusation of murder.

Aye, she owed Ronan an apology. She would have done so
last night, but she doubted he would have wanted to talk to her further, he’d
been so angry. She couldn’t blame him. At least now after some rest she hoped
that he might be more receptive to listening to her.

Triona went to his room and took a deep steadying
breath as she raised her hand to knock. But she’d barely touched the door when
it drifted open, apparently not closed all the way.

"Ronan?"

No answer came. She wondered if he was sleeping so
soundly that he hadn’t heard her. She stepped inside, her heart immediately
sinking. His bed was empty, clearly not even slept upon.

Why would the man want to sleep under the same roof
with a shrew like you? Triona scolded herself as she hurried from the
dwelling-house.

Conn bounded after some sparrows, but she headed in the
opposite direction, avoiding puddles from last night’s storm as well as curious
glances from the guards standing sentinel around the stronghold. She didn’t
stop until she’d reached the small building where Ronan had been staying; once
inside, she was surprised to find only one room. And there, at the far end,
stood a bed that she could see even from the door was a sodden mess, water
still dripping from the beams overhead.

"So he hadn’t lied," Triona breathed,
wondering how many other times she had misjudged him over the past weeks.

"Looking for the O’Byrne, miss?" said a man’s
voice from behind her.

Triona spun, startled to see that a clansman had walked
up without her even hearing him. "Aye, have you seen him?"

"He left the stronghold several hours ago, miss."

"Left?"

"Aye, by himself, he did. Wouldn’t take any of us
with him. Said he was heading for the Blackstairs in Carlow."

"But that’s where the O’Nolan . . ." Triona
didn’t finish, outrage sweeping her. Jesu,
Mary
and
Joseph, here she was ready to apologize and he’d ridden off to Carlow, probably
to try and talk Taig O’Nolan into wedding her again!

"The O’Byrne didn’t say anything more than that,
miss, but he spent some time with his brother just before he left. Mayhap Niall
could tell you—"

Triona had heard enough, brushing past the startled
clansman without another word.

Saints deliver her, the spawn! Ronan must have been
angry, all right. Angry enough not to want to play his deceitful games anymore,
but instead to rid himself of her accusations forever. And if he failed with
the O’Nolan, no doubt Ronan planned to ride the length of Leinster until he
found someone to take her off his hands. Why be plagued by a woman who insisted
upon reminding him of something he’d rather forget?

Triona was so incensed that she didn’t bother to knock
at Niall’s door, but stormed inside. "Niall O’Byrne?"

She stopped short as Niall looked up from his chair
near the hearth, his expression broodingly pensive for all she’d taken him by
surprise.

"Triona, I’d have thought you abed—"

"I just heard that Ronan has gone to Carlow. Is
this true?"

"Aye. To see the O’Nolan."

Triona threw up her hands in exasperation. "The O’Nolan,
did he? Will that fine brother of yours never cease trying to direct my life?
He knows damned well I’ll never consent to marry that chieftain, and Taig told
Ronan that he doesn’t want me anyway!"

Now Niall looked startled, his dark brows knit into a
frown. "Who said anything about
your
marrying the
O’Nolan?"

"That’s why Ronan’s gone to Carlow, isn’t it? I
suppose he told you what happened last night—that we talked about my brother,
Conor, and now he can’t wait to be rid of me because I accused him of—"

"Aye, I heard what you spewed," Niall cut in,
his deepening frown
so
reminiscent of Ronan’s as he
lunged from his chair to face her. "It’s a heartless, unjust charge you’ve
made, Triona O’Toole. Do you think your father would have given you over to my
brother’s care if he truly thought Ronan was a murderer? I only wish the O’Toole
would have forgiven him years ago and eased some of my brother’s misery. And
now you’ve gone and made things worse!"

"I’ve made things worse?" she spouted,
surprised that the man she had once thought her friend and ally was attacking
her so harshly. "What of Ronan’s behavior? Damn him, he’s on his way to
Carlow—"

"To arrange for the O’Nolan to take over your
guardianship, Triona. I told you before that my brother is a man of his word,
but he can’t bear that the oath he made to your father has caused you such unhappiness.
Ronan would rather you make your home with someone you respect than a man you
despise."

Stunned that she had so easily misjudged Ronan again,
Triona nonetheless could not help grumbling, "For a man of his word, Ronan
hasn’t shown as much when it comes to his dealings with me."

"Why? Because he had to reason with you once to
spare you humiliation before your clan? Even then he was thinking of what was
best for you."

"Oh, and I suppose his wanting to make me into the
proper Irish maiden was best for me? Obviously you didn’t think so, Niall O’Byrne,
or you wouldn’t have taken my side, helping me—"

"I had good reason for helping you, but clearly I
was wrong." Niall turned away from her, staring into the fire. "A
damned good reason . . . gone to ashes."

Niall sounded so disheartened that Triona couldn’t help
softening her tone. "What reason was that, Niall? If you recall, I asked
you this once before—"

"Aye, the day Ronan released you from your room.
Hardly the time to let you know that I hoped one day you’d be marrying my
brother." Niall gave a heavy sigh. "I should say
we
hoped. Maire has been wishing the same thing, too."

Triona was so astonished that she couldn’t speak.

"I saw the difference in Ronan from the moment he
brought you here, as if you’d set a fire under him. Maire saw it, too, that
night at the feast. We knew then that if anyone could help bring our older
brother back again, it was you."

Triona finally managed a whisper. "Bring him back?"

"Aye, Triona, to make Ronan want to find joy in life
again. Do you think you’re the only one who lost a brother the day Conor died?
I lost my
brother,
too, as surely as if that arrow had
pierced Ronan through the heart. We used to hunt together, laugh together, but
no more. He’s closed himself off from us for years, hiding his hurt behind a
strict code of discipline, his guilt eating away the man that the O’Byrnes of
Glenmalure once knew—that Maire and I once knew and loved. Until you came
along, driving him out of himself with your fiery hair and your spirit to
match. Why else do you think I hoped you’d stand up to him?"

Shocked, Triona sank onto a bench. Given what she had
seen last night with Ronan, much of what Niall was saying made perfect sense.
Yet there was still so much . . .

"You and Maire might have wanted Ronan to marry
me, Niall, but he swore he didn’t want a wife—"

"Aye, because the man believes he has no right to
happiness! Don’t you see? Then he wouldn’t be paying for Conor’s death. So he’s
been punishing himself for years, allowing no woman a place in his heart . . .
until you, Triona."

Her heart was suddenly pounding, but Triona shook her
head. "How can that be true? I’m not anything like the woman Ronan could
be happy with . . . as—as far away from his precious Lady Emer as a fish to a
goat!"

"If you’d been any different, Ronan would never
have given you a second glance. Do you think a modest and dutiful mouse could
have broken through such pain? You made him feel as if he had a chance, Triona.
A chance at happiness, if only he could somehow make you hate him less—"

"I never said I hated him!"

Niall looked as startled as she was for having shouted.
"You don’t?"

She didn’t answer, looking down at her hands.

"Triona . . ."

"Of course I don’t hate him," she finally
mumbled, glancing up to find Niall watching her intently. "But I should
for everything the man’s done to me!"

"Aye, he wasn’t exactly hospitable to you in the
beginning. Plain unreasonable at times."

Triona snorted. "At times?"

Her outburst brought a reluctant grin to Niall’s face.
Yet he quickly sobered, saying gently, "I know Ronan felt terrible about
what happened between the two of you . . . after he helped you escape from
Kilkenny."

"As well he should!" Triona blurted, her face
growing uncomfortably warm that Niall would even mention that night.

"He believed you truly hated him, telling me that
he’d made your life nothing short of hell. He even talked of escorting you to a
convent—"

"A convent?"

"That’s what I said, but he seemed to think you
wanted only to be far away from him."

"He was right," she muttered, remembering how
she’d planned to leave Glenmalure as soon as Ronan left on his next raid. But
only because he didn’t want her, not because she despised him. And if what
Niall was telling her was true—that Ronan had wanted her all along . . .

"Your brother didn’t offer to send me to a
convent, though," she added. "He offered to marry me out of duty as
if . . . well, as if that were a fine enough reason to wed!"

"So you’re saying you might have accepted him if
he’d told you then that he cared?"

"Aye, I might have—" Triona clamped her mouth
shut, her eyes growing wide at what she’d just revealed. Niall, meanwhile, had
such an array of emotions passing over his face that it was an amazing sight to
see: astonishment, delight, and finally, confusion.

"Yet you didn’t outright refuse him, either. You
said you’d consider his offer if he first proved that he was willing to take
you as you are."

"Aye, why not lead him on a fine chase to repay
him for some of the pain he’s caused me!"

This time she glared at Niall. In truth, though, she
felt relieved that she’d finally gotten it off her chest. And Niall no longer
looked confused as he uttered a low whistle.

"So that’s what it’s been all along. A deliberate
game . . . though I can understand why."

"Now you’re sounding like Aud," Triona
muttered as she rose from the bench. "For your information, Niall O’Byrne,
I was planning to apologize to your brother this very morning. I can admit when
I’m wrong. But when I heard Ronan had gone to see the O’Nolan, you can well
imagine what I thought, after everything . . ."

Niall nodded, searching her eyes. "You mean after
all the heartache he’s caused you. Aye, you can tell me the truth, Triona. For
surely you wouldn’t have been feeling so much pain over my brother if you didn’t
care about him, too."

She couldn’t answer, a lump rising in her throat that
felt big enough to choke her. But her silence seemed enough to convince Niall,
for he came over to her and squeezed her hand.

"It’s all right, Triona O’Toole. I’m not the one
who should be hearing those words, anyway. But if you’ve a mind to travel, we
could be at the O’Nolan’s by nightfall."

The idea roused her spirits, but Triona still was
doubtful. "Mayhap we should give Ronan a few days. I’ve hurt him so badly .
. . and you said yourself, I’ve only made things worse."

"Aye, he was in a terrible way when he left, I’ll
not deny it. But I can’t believe that once he sees you, he’ll be able to ignore
why you’ve come."

Triona suddenly felt quite nervous as she mustered a
small smile. "All right then, we’ll go."

"Begorra, you can do better than that, girl! You’ve
a smile that could charm the very sun to shine. I only hope I’m as lucky as
Ronan to find a woman like you."

Flushing warmly, Triona obliged him with a grin, but in
the next moment she was racing for the door.

"Pack a few things and then meet me at the stable,"
Niall called after her. As for Triona, she couldn’t run to her dwelling-house
fast enough, almost colliding with Aud who was just stepping outside.

"Saints preserve us, sweeting, where’ve you been?
I went to wake you and you weren’t in your bed—"

"I’m going to Carlow, Aud," Triona broke in,
breathless. "After Ronan."

"He’s not here?"

She shook her head, gesturing for Aud to follow her. "I’ll
explain everything while I pack, but I’ve got to hurry."