Claire Delacroix (28 page)

Before Luc could agree with that, the monk tapped him on the shoulder once again. “There is no question that I must spend at least one night at Matthew’s board. The winter nights are long at the priory and ’tis imperative we have tales to share amongst ourselves.”

A mischievousness in Brother Thomas’ words snared Luc’s attention. He glanced back to find a merry twinkle in the monk’s eye. “I take it as my most solemn duty to my brethren to gather all the gossip I can hold,” the man confided, then patted his considerable girth. “And you may be certain, I can hold a great, great deal,” he said with a wink.

Luc found himself not only grinning but liking his companion. “And how did a miller’s son become a monk?”

“Ah, now there is a tale!” Brother Thomas gestured to the high keep as they rode beneath its shadow. “Connor’s father was a man who heeded well what happened in his holding, you may be certain of that. He had founded the priory with a generous endowment and ’twas the talk of the
village in those days. Such generosity in the name of the Lord!

“One day not long afterward, he sent word to my sire and asked if I might aid in the castle. Now, Tullymullagh’s keep was not nearly so fine in those days, being as it was a wattle and daub construct. Connor has made marked improvements in what he holds to his name. But all the same, ’twas intimidating indeed for a young boy to be summoned to the lord’s own hall.”

That finger tapped again. “You may be certain that I was more quiet than most children, for this figure of mine has been much the same since I first drew breath. As a boy, I was markedly shy and kept to myself. My sire, I suspect, thought I had found some trouble and was to be called to task by the lord himself.

“To my eyes, even in those days, the hall was a vision of wealth and splendor. The very sight was dazzling, no less the richness of the lord’s own garb. But that man called me to his side, he even deigned to put a hand on my shoulder, and I saw a kindness in his eyes that eased my every fear.”

“What did he want from you?”

Brother Thomas chortled. “He had a son, one Connor of Tullymullagh, his heir and my contemporary. And the lad was not driven to learn his letters, as needs demanded he do in order to run this great keep. Aye, Connor was more concerned with learning to manage his sword. His sire decided Connor should have some competition beneath the scribe’s tutelage.”

“And he chose you.”

“Aye. The old lord read me aright, for I took to my letters like naught else in my short life. Here was my place! Here was the labor that made my heart sing! I gave the young heir a fair contest, of that you may be certain.”

Brother Thomas chuckled at the recollection. “Ah, my
dame was fiercely proud that her eldest son lived at the keep itself. And when Connor took his spurs as a properly educated young man, the old lord offered me my heart’s desire in gratitude.”

“What did you ask him to grant you?”

“I asked him to let me be with the books.” Brother Thomas’ voice dropped low. “I had hoped he would but let me work as his own scribe, but his gratitude extended far beyond that. He petitioned the priory and sent me with a generous endowment, one that came from his own purse, and one that overwhelmed any protest against my humble origins.”

The monk’s voice broke. “ ’Twas more, far more, than I could have dreamed he might have done.”

He caught his breath and sniffled slightly behind Luc. “ ’Tis a fine strain of blood that courses through the veins of Tullymullagh’s kings, make no mistake. I have no doubt ’twill overwhelm whatever deficiencies this son of Gavin’s brings to the hall.”

Indeed, Luc already knew what marvels a child of Tullymullagh’s lineage could make possible. He smiled secretly to himself and touched his heels to Raphael to urge him on.

Short moments later, Luc dismounted before the chapel where the chanting of prayers echoed and looked expectantly to Brother Thomas. He remained seated, clearly not yet done with his tale.

“And ever since that day, I come to Tullymullagh to dress their dead,” Brother Thomas confided solemnly. “ ’Tis but a small gesture of gratitude for all the old lord granted to me.”

There were tears in the monk’s eyes and Luc realized suddenly the youthfulness of his appearance in comparison with Connor. “You and Connor are contemporaries?” he asked, before he could halt the words.

Brother Thomas smiled, then frowned as he assessed the distance to the ground. “Aye, though those years in Outremer were hard upon Connor. They forged his spirit, though, and he was tested in ways that I can barely imagine. And indeed, that journey made his treasury what ’tis today.”

Luc was momentarily startled that the monk made such easy reference to the tale Brianna had shared. Did everyone in these parts know the source of Connor’s wealth?

“Why do we halt here?” the monk demanded with an abruptness that stole away Luc’s musings.

“Lady Ismay was brought here.”

“Ah!” The monk stretched out his hand. “Aid me, sir, if you will. ’Tis markably far to the ground and I fear for these fragile old bones of mine.”

Luc could not help but think of his own bones as he reached a hand to the considerably-sized monk. He thought of the struggle to see Brother Thomas in the saddle and feared the worst.

But evidently, descending from the saddle was not an issue. Brother Thomas swung his leg with surprising grace, gripped the saddle, and grunted as he dropped the very tips of his sandalled toes to the ground.

Raphael stepped to one side and snorted relief. The monk patted the stallion’s rump, then smiled at Luc. “ ’Tis a fine steed you ride for your station. Do you not aid the ostler?”

“Aye,” Luc conceded, unable to resist the opportunity to grant the monk an unexpected morsel of news. “But ’tis by my choice, not by rank.” The monk frowned, not understanding, and Luc continued with a smile. “My name is Luc Fitzgavin.”

Brother Thomas’ eyes widened in mingled surprise and delight. “You are the one who did not go!” he crowed. “Ah, everyone will be astonished that you were within our
very midst at the priory and they did not guess the truth!” He grinned and slapped Luc on the back. “Ah! I shall have tales to tell after this journey, you may be certain of it!”

Voices rose from within the chapel once more, a familiar benediction carrying clearly to Luc’s ears. The Mass was nearly over, and Luc had a very good idea where a certain princess would be at this moment on a Sunday morn.

“The ‘Ave,’ ” Brother Thomas exclaimed. “How I do love the ‘Ave Maria.’ ”

“As do I,” Luc said firmly and knotted Raphael’s reins to a fencepost. He could not resist the opportunity to see his princess as soon as possible. “Shall we?”

W
hen Brother Thomas slipped into the chapel and smiled at the entire assembly, Brianna’s heart began to hammer. For if the monk was here from Endlist Priory, then the man sent to retrieve him must also be returned.

She peeked to the back of the chapel, her heart leaping when she found not only Luc standing there, but his blue, blue gaze fixed upon her. Brianna felt herself flush, noted her father’s glance to her and thence to the back of the chapel.

“Hmmm,” Connor murmured, and Brianna did not miss his sharp look her way. She held up her chin, but could not stop anticipation from flooding through her.

Luc had returned!

Finally. Brianna had spent all of the previous evening hoping for his reappearance in the hall.

At least, she had done so when she had not been run ragged with making arrangements for Ismay’s funeral. Much to Brianna’s surprise, Dermot had no more than a perfunctory interest in such matters and it had been left to her to decide.

Since Ismay’s holding was lost and the new lord there as yet unknown, Brianna and Uther concluded that Ismay
should be buried in the cemetery of the Tullymullagh parish church. If she could be moved later to join the remainder of her family, ’twould be done then.

Truly, the management of a keep was a task like no other. Until these past few days, Brianna had had no idea how hard Uther labored. ’Twas interesting to plan menus and assess inventory, far more fascinating than merely plying a needle at embroidery.

Brianna felt that she was truly contributing to the household and possessed new satisfaction in her role. She owed a debt to Luc for his prompting her to do more.

Aye, Brianna’s anxiety to see him could only be because she wished to tell him as much. She tapped her toe impatiently as Father Padraig lingered over the Mass and fairly fled when he breathed the last “amen.”

Her father took due note of her hasty departure, she knew.

But Brianna found ’twas no easy task to make her way to the back of the chapel when all else proceeded the same way. Brianna exchanged more than one glance of exasperation with the man she would meet, her heart pounding when he resolutely waited for her.

No sooner had Brianna come within a few steps of Luc, than Uther waylaid her. She heaved a sigh of frustration and felt herself flush when Luc’s smile broadened in understanding.

Silently, Brianna urged Uther to hasten himself.

“My lady, I had considered that due to lack of suitable space within the keep, Ismay might lay in the parish church itself until the funeral on Tuesday,” Uther declared. “If you are amenable.” He guided Brianna firmly through the chapel doors and toward the castle gates, while she cast an appealing glance back to Luc.

Luc shook his head, strolling behind Brianna’s group with casual ease. It could be no accident he lingered so close.
Could Luc be as interested in speaking with Brianna as she was in speaking with him?

The very prospect made Brianna lose the thread of whatever Uther told her.

“My lady!” Cook called from the other side of the assembly. “When you have a moment, I should like to review the menu for the week.”

“And perhaps check the tallies for the week?” interjected Uther. “There is still the issue of Gavin’s concern with the spice inventory.”

“My lady, what garb shall we make ready for the funeral?” Fenella chimed in.

Brianna had thought no further than how quickly she might be finished with her growing list of responsibilities when Gavin cried out.

“Burke!” he roared. “ ’Tis
Burke
!”

All spun to watch the mercenary dart as well as he was able to the gate of the churchyard. Gavin’s heavy features were transformed with glee when he turned back to the assembly and pointed triumphantly to Tullymullagh’s gate.

“Burke is returned!”

Brianna immediately spotted a knight astride the midnight stallion, waiting just outside Tullymullagh’s gates.

Brianna felt her lips part in dismay and her blood run chill. Burke could not be back so soon! She glanced to Luc, only to find his expression grimly fixed on the gates.

What was she to do? Luc had told her to accept Burke’s suit, indeed he had insisted ’twas the choice to make. Brianna knew Luc’s counsel was good, yet still she hesitated to do his bidding.

For if Luc’s kisses had awakened her to the touch of men, why did Ruarke’s touch leave her cold?

Aye, what if Brianna did not feel the same fire from Burke’s touch as she felt from Luc’s?

What if Brianna could
not
come to love Burke, despite Luc’s endorsement of his brother?

The very prospect was terrifying. ’Twas everything Brianna had sworn not to endure! Her own defiance warred with her trust of Luc’s judgement.

Was she merely avoiding what was best for her, simply for the sake of calling her own tune? If she declined Burke, would she regret her choice? Had Luc not already known better than she?

Brianna wished fervently that she could talk to Luc but once more. Just for a moment. He would aid her to make a sensible choice, Brianna knew it well.

Aye, it might well be that the response to men he had awakened now slumbered once more and her flesh would not tingle beneath Luc’s touch either.

Oh! How Brianna wished she knew more of such matters!

And ’twas too late to consult with Luc.

The assembly surged forward and began to chatter merrily, carrying Brianna in their enthusiastic tide. Denis ran to take the steed’s reins, Burke dismounted, and Gavin clapped his returning son upon the back. Connor smiled with anticipation as he offered Brianna his elbow and hastened her onward.

The moment of decision was upon her.

And Brianna did not know what she should do. In the absence of her own decisiveness, she took a deep breath and resolved to put her faith in Luc’s assessment.

She would laugh at whatever Burke brought.

By the time she was seated in the hall, Brianna’s heart was racing. She sat between her sire and Gavin on the dais, her hands clenched together in her lap. Her fingers were cold, her palms were damp, but she held her chin high.

A hard lump took residence in Brianna’s throat, she ached
with awareness of Luc standing at the back of the hall. But one glimpse had been enough of his grim countenance. His arms were folded across his chest, his gaze bored into Brianna as though he would will her to heed his counsel.

Aye, she was so agitated, she knew any laughter that broke from her lips would sound fey. Surely, none would be fooled?