Dark of the Moon (25 page)

He looked furious all over again. Caitlyn started to say something, but he turned such a blistering gaze on her that she was silenced.

"If you ever, ever ride out alone again, I'll sell the damned horse and send you to the nuns, blackmail or no," he told her fiercely, then set his heels to Fharannain and galloped for home.

Two days later, Connor's gash had healed to a raw scar across his cheekbone, and Caitlyn's lip was back to its normal size. There had been no word from Ballymara, though, true to his promise, Connor had sent a message to Sir Edward's home advising that Sir Edward had suffered an "accident" and where he could be found. Caitlyn had been afraid that Sir Edward would not allow the matter to rest there. But nothing untoward happened and she tried to put the incident from her mind.

Connor's temper had not improved with the passage of time. When his brothers exclaimed over the state of his cheek and Caitlyn's lip, Connor had seized the opportunity to upbraid them for not keeping a closer watch on Caitlyn. When Caitlyn had rather miserably tried to smooth things over, Connor had snapped her head off, and the younger d'Arcys had not appeared particularly appreciative of her efforts. After that, Connor was busy. No matter when or how she tried to approach him, he brusquely cut her short. She found it hard to believe that he was so angry at her merely because she had ridden out alone and had gotten into trouble, but if the cause was other than that, she didn't know, because Connor wouldn't tell her. The effect of his silent anger was to make her miserable, and everyone else wary.

"For the Lord's sake, what've you done to the man?" Rory demanded of her after Connor had bitten everyone's head off during the midday meal before stomping off to harass the peasants in the fields. " 'Tis like living with a wolf with a sore paw!"

They were getting up from the table. Caitlyn had elected to muck out stalls rather than help with the clearing up, so she was leaving the house with the men. Mrs. McFee paused in the act of removing the plates to look sharply at Caitlyn as if listening for evidence that the evil she had always predicted was occurring under Donoughmore's roof.

"Hush," Caitlyn muttered to Rory, who was obediendy silent until they were safely on the stoop. Then he looked at her, eyebrows raised while he waited for an answer.

"I haven't done anything to him," she said defensively, lifting her skirts clear of her feet as she stepped to the ground.

Behind her, Cormac snorted. "Like as not, that's the problem."

Caitlyn, not understanding, stared at him as he fell into step beside her. Liam, trailing behind, went red to his ears. Rory, on Caitlyn's other side, looked at Cormac reproachfully.

"You shouldn't say things like that in front of Caitlyn. 'Tis not proper," he rebuked his brother.

Cormac shrugged. "Why not? If she's sleeping with him, then she's no innocent to have her ears sullied. And if she's not, why then, I'd say that's the problem."

There was a bitter note in his voice that told Caitlyn that he still resented Connor's edict.

Impulsively, she put a hand on his forearm, bare where he had rolled the sleeves of his shirt past his elbows, stopping him. The others stopped too, watching as Caitlyn gazed earnestly up at Cormac.

"Can't we please be friends, Cormac?" she asked softly. "Just because I—I feel a certain way about Connor doesn't mean that I don't care for you too. And Rory. And even stodgy Liam." She favored Liam with a fleeting smile. "As brothers. We've been friends—good friends— for more than a year. Just because we're all growing up is no reason that has to change, is it?"

Cormac looked at her for a moment, the beginnings of a sulky frown on his face. Then he grinned reluctantly.

"Oh, I suppose not," he said. "Though you are certainly more interesting as Caitlyn the beauty than O'Malley the beggar-boy."

Rory and Liam laughed, and Caitlyn did too. A tiny comer of her heart healed to know that she was on good terms with the younger d'Arcys again. If only repairing her relationship with Connor were this easy. . . .

"Thank you, Cormac," she said softly, planting a quick, sisterly kiss on his cheek. Then she did the same to Rory and Liam.

"Mighty free with your kisses, aren't you?" an all-too- familiar voice snarled behind her.

Caitlyn and the three d'Arcys all whirled guiltily to find Connor standing a few paces away, a pitchfork in his hand and an ugly scowl marring his face. Like Cormac, he was in shirtsleeves, which he had rolled up past his elbows and left unfastened at the throat so that a wedge of hair-roughened bronzed skin showed there. He was wearing his oldest breeches and a pair of scuffed boots, and from the perspiration beading his brow and dampening his shirt, it was obvious to Caitlyn that he had beaten her to the task of mucking out the stalls. She felt herself flush with chagrin as she lifted her eyes to his face; the unspoken implication was that she should have done the work sooner.

"But, Conn ..." Liam said plaintively. Connor glowered even at this brother who rarely provoked his ire.

Before more could be said, they were interrupted by the sound of a carriage approaching.

Mrs. Congreve's gig rolled into the stableyard with the lady herself at the reins. Unable to stop herself, Caitlyn glared at the intruder and was pleased to note that the younger d'Arcys did the same. Connor's eyes narrowed on the newcomer, but it was impossible to tell if he was pleased at her arrival. In any case, Mrs. Congreve appeared to nodce no lack in the greeting afforded her, because she waved cheerily. Changing the direction of her horses, she drove over to where the five of them waited, drawing rein smartly when she was just a few feet away.

"Mucking out the stables, darling?" she called gaily to Connor, whose scowl had faded with her approach. He actually smiled as he crossed to her, pitchfork in hand. Caitlyn's glare deepened as she took in the lady's pristine beauty. Even on this hot summer day, not a hair was out of place on that powdered head. Mrs. Congreve was dressed in pink silk today, with flounces of silver lace and a pink feather drooping saucily from the side of her enormous hat.

Looking self-consciously down at her own much-mended dress, Caitlyn felt her ire rise in direct proportion to her dowdiness.

"I'm a working farmer, you know, Meredith," Connor replied. He sounded jovial, which he hadn't been to any of them in days. Mrs. Congreve simpered at him, and Caitlyn felt her temper rise some more.

"I hope I haven't called at an inconvenient time," the woman went on, extending her hand to Connor. "But I heard from Sarah Dunne that you and Sir Edward had some sort of—er—contretemps, which left Sir Edward quite badly hurt. I had to see for myself that you weren't in like case, though I should have known there was no chance of that. Darling, I do hope I wasn't the cause of your disagreement?" She ended it as a delicate question, her expression telling Caitlyn that, contrary to her claim, she very much hoped she had been.

"Ah, that would be telling." Connor smiled charmingly as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. His eyes met Caitlyn's over the lady's white hand. She glared at him as he pressed his lips against the whiteness, and his eyes went hard in return. Then, still holding the lady's hand, he deliberately leaned over the edge of the gig and kissed Mrs. Congreve's soft cheek.

There was a collective indrawing of breath among the younger d'Arcys, and three pairs of eyes turned to Caitlyn to see how she would react to that. Caitlyn stiffened, her eyes fastened on the twosome by the gig. Pure animal rage flooded her veins; she clenched her fists as bright flags of color flew to her cheeks. Her eyes blazed dangerously. Deftly sidestepping Liam's hand lifted to stop her, she marched herself over to the gig, stopping when she was no more than a foot away from Connor's side.

"Oh, Connor, darling," she drawled in broad parody of Mrs. Congreve's mincing tones.

When Connor turned to look at her, brows lifted, she drew back her hand and slapped him very deliberately across the face.

There was a moment's awful silence, broken only by the ringing sound of the slap. Then Mrs. Congreve gasped, Connor's hand went to his abused cheek as he stared furiously at Caitlyn, and the younger d'Arcys, moving almost as one, took a single protective step forward.

But before Connor could respond with more than a look, Caitlyn turned on her heel and stalked into the stable, climbed into the loft and threw herself down on her stomach in the straw. And with a mixed sense of doom and satisfaction, she waited.

She had not long to wait. She sensed his presence even before he stepped off the ladder, even before she heard his booted feet on the floor of the loft. Still she continued to stare out the window, refusing to look at him even when he stood directly beside her.

"I hope you're bloody pleased with yourself," he began furiously.

"Shouldn't you be with your lady friend?" she said, putting sarcastic emphasis on the last two words as she rolled to one side and sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. Her reddened handprint was still plainly visible on the same cheek that had been cut by Sir Edward's ring.

Above it, those aqua eyes gleamed at her with devilish anger.

"Aye, I should be!" He bit the words off, then made a palpable attempt to control his temper. When he spoke again, the anger was less apparent. "What maggot entered your brain to cause you to slap me? You've convinced Meredith that you're my mistress, and what Meredith knows the whole countryside knows soon afterward!"

"I don't care." She folded her arms over her breasts and looked stubbornly out the window.

"Well, I do!"

"Oh, is she angry at you?" Caitlyn asked venomously. "Good!"

There was a moment of charged silence. Caitlyn could feel the heat of Connor's eyes boring into her averted face. His next words held an aura of carefully invoked patience.

"Caitlyn, you've no business to be jealous of Meredith. What is between her and me is no concern of yours. We are both adults, and you are naught but a child."

She looked at him then, her eyes blazing. "Oh, really?" Doubdess 'tis merely my imagination, but I seem to recall that you thought I was an adult not so many days ago. Or do you always go around kissing children like that?"

His eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed over his chest as he met her furious stare. For a long moment he only looked at her, and the final traces of fury faded from his face. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. " 'TWas a mistake and nothing more."

"A mistake! A mistake!" As his anger faded, hers was reborn. Caitlyn surged to her feet, her hand swinging in a wild arc toward his face again. Connor, ever fast on his feet, caught her hand before it could make contact with the self-same cheek it had smacked before and held it tightly.

"Caitlyn!" There was taut warning in his tone.

She ignored him, raging. "Why don't you admit it, Connor d'Arcy? You liked kissing me! I could tell you did! And if I'm jealous, you are too! 'Tis so jealous you are of your own brothers that you're practically green with it! Don't tell me that you didn't kiss that—that—Mrs. Congreve because you saw me kissing Cormac and Rory and Liam. And perfecdy innocentiy too, which is more than you can lay claim to!"

"Caitlyn!"

"Don't you Caitlyn me!" She swung on him with her other hand, but he caught that one too.

"Damn it, Caitlyn, if you hit me again I'm likely to turn you over my knee and tan your backside for you!" He was glaring at her even as he held her captured hands prisoner.

"When will you get it through your head that I'm too old for you to spank?" she hissed at him. "I'm a woman grown, Connor d'Arcy, and you know it! You're just afraid to admit it!"

He stared at her for a moment, his mouth tight. Those light eyes flickered with anger and something else as they moved over her flushed face. Then his eyes moved down her body in its well-patched green dress, resting for a moment on heaving breasts and tiny waist before coming back up to the faded green kerchief that drew her raven hair back from her widow's peak. At last he met her eyes.

"Be glad that I am," he said quietly. "If I were to treat you as a woman grown, there'd be hell to pay!"

She looked up at him, arrested. There was an underlying edge to his voice that gave her renewed hope. Her anger faded, and she stopped tugging at her hands in his.

"I want you to treat me as a woman grown," she almost wailed, her eyes wide.

"You're too young to know what you want." His eyes narrowed on her face. There was a restless glint in them. She fastened on that and tried not to hear the grim note in his voice. " 'Tis thankful you should be that I have more sense than you."

Clearly he was determined to keep her at arm's length. Scowling, Caitlyn studied that lean, handsome face that frowned so sternly back at her. His hold on her hands had slackened now that she no longer seemed hell-bent on hitting him. Their fingers had intertwined apparently of their own volition, completely oblivious to the angry words that were being exchanged.

"I hate you," she said petulantly, tugging at her hands again.

"Good." His reply was heartless. But he did not release her hands.

"Let me go! Beast!" She pulled at her hands to emphasize her words.

He sighed, the anger gone from him now. "Caitlyn, you're a beautiful lass, and I'm a normal man. 'Tis you I'm trying to protect."

She stopped tugging on her hands and studied him. "I don't want to be protected. Not from you. And I don't hate you. I—I love you, Connor."

She made the admission shamelessly. His eyes widened, then narrowed again. His voice was harsh.

"You're naught but a child. You don't know what you're saying."

"I do! I do!"

He said nothing, just looked at her for a long moment while tiny flames flickered in the backs of his eyes. His fingers tightened around hers almost painfully. Caitlyn gladly tolerated the small hurt.

" 'Twould be very wrong of me to take advantage of the way you think you feel. You—"

"I'm not a child, Connor!" she snapped, exasperated. Then she walked right up to him with their fingers still entwined. "I want you to kiss me. Now. Please."