The Game (46 page)

“Long ago you told me to come to you freely with any petition. You promised me you would reward me for my service. I have served you well. I petition you now, Bess. I want a pardon for Katherine.”

Elizabeth had turned red. “Very well! I will pardon her! But let me tell you this! If she ever appears in my sight again, I will have her seized immediately! Do you understand me, Liam? Keep her away from me and my court!”

“Yes.” Liam smiled.

He had won. The prize was his. Katherine was his.

L
iam had also obtained an official pardon from the queen for his own crimes, as well as a commendation for his efforts on her behalf against FitzMaurice. She had also hinted at other future rewards should he be successful in maintaining the status quo in southern Ireland. Liam was stunned. Elizabeth had practically promised that one day she would ennoble him with his own lands and title, so he would have a patrimony to bequeath his son.

Now he strode toward the
Sea Dagger
, which rode at anchor in the Thames not far from Richmond Stairs. A buxom young woman strode beside him, hurrying to keep up. In her arms was his son.

Liam could not take his eyes off the small, blond babe. How blue his eyes were. How blue, how alert, and how obviously intelligent. What a fine son Katherine had given him. Now Liam was going to bring her child to her, as he had promised her he would do.

When he had last seen her, she had been more asleep than awake. Yet she had told him that she loved him, that she trusted him. Had she not, then, spoken from the heart?

Liam hoped that it was so. He missed her so much and loved her even more, and he did not know if he could stand it if she did not feel the exact same way about him. But if not, he would continue to woo her until he had won her heart, just the way he had, so long ago, won her body.

He could not rest easy until they had been reunited, until they were living together again as man and wife.

“O’Neill!”

Liam paused, recognizing the voice of the man who called to him from behind. He turned and waited as Ormond strode toward him. Liam was tense and wary. This man was now his enemy.

Ormond halted. “Do you return to Katherine?”

“Aye.”

“She has joined her father, you know. In Bristol. They left for Ireland last week.”

Liam already knew this. Mary Stanley had sent him a long, informative letter.

Ormond hesitated, then thrust a small bundle at him. “Give this to her. I believe that she would want it.”

Liam stared at the earl of Ormond, but could not fathom what emotion he harbored, for his dark eyes were hooded, his visage impassive. “What is this?”

Ormond’s face contorted with emotion. “My mother, in her quieter moments, kept a journal. ’Twas returned to me upon her death. Now I thought Katherine might want it.”

Liam was stunned.

Ormond looked away. “Do not mistake me,” he growled. “I am forever FitzGerald’s sworn enemy, and I am poised now to break his back as I did at Affane so many years ago lest he dare to try to offend me or mine—or my queen! It matters not to me that Katherine is my half sister!”

Liam believed him, but he couldn’t help but smile.

“You find my words amusing?” Ormond snapped.

“Come, Tom, admit it,” Liam taunted quietly. “You have grown fond of my Katherine.”

Ormond’s jaw clenched. “Just slightly. So hear this, too. If you do not marry her and make a proper wife of her, I will chase after you, as well. And drag you to the altar.”

“We are already married,” Liam told him quietly.

Ormond’s eyes widened. “You have already wed my sister?”

And Liam grinned. “Aye. But for reasons politic, we have kept it a secret.”

Ormond grunted. His eyes gleamed. “Yes, of course. I
will keep your secret too, O’Neill.” Then he smiled. “But do not think, now that you are my brother-in-law, that aught is changed. You are exempt no more than any other man from my determination to protect the queen.”

Liam inclined his head. “Honor suits some men well.”

Ormond started. “You have just flattered me?”

But before Liam could reply—had he wanted to—the babe began to squall.

Instantly both Liam and Ormond turned to stare at the crying infant. The wet nurse turned aside, putting the child to her breast, hushing him. Liam and Ormond looked at one another, their gazes locking. “Your son,” Ormond said, a small quaver in his tone. Then, “My mother’s grandson.”

“Your nephew, Ormond,” Liam said calmly.

Color flushed the man’s cheeks. “Do not think to weaken me with these family ties!”

Liam laughed. “I would not dream of it,” he said. He saluted the Irish earl. “My lord, I am sure Katherine will be overjoyed to receive this gift from you. On her behalf, I thank you.”

But Ormond did not seem to hear, for he was staring at the suckling child.

Kylemore Forest

Gerald FitzGerald’s progress from Dublin Castle was triumphant. Swarms of Irishmen flocked to his side as he journeyed, cheering him mightily, both kern and lords alike, and by the time Gerald had reached the great forest which stretched for miles into the Galtee and Ballyhoura mountains, he was surrounded by hundreds of joyous followers. He stood in his stirrups then, clad now in the clothing of a Gaelic chieftain, preparing to speak. In great expectation, the crowd hushed.

Katherine sat her mount beside Eleanor, her heart pounding with happiness, tears in her eyes. She and Eleanor exchanged warm glances, then clasped hands. Gerald began by lifting his arms high in the air.

“My people,” he cried, a pale, wraithlike figure, “I have returned. The earl of Desmond has returned.”

Cheers erupted, filling the glen, echoing.

“Never again will Desmond be taken from you,” Gerald promised, while the roars of his men drowned out his voice. When they had quieted he cried, “Never again will Englishmen dare to chase you into the forests and bogs, across mountain and glen! The earl of Desmond protects what is his! For Desmond, hurrah!”

Katherine froze, dropping Eleanor’s hands. She could not believe that her father would speak so defiantly of the Crown’s authority—that he would dare to pick up exactly where he had left off eight years before. Beside her, Eleanor had turned pale, as disbelieving as she.

But the lords and gallowglass, peasants and kern were screaming now, wildly, enthusiastically, waving spears and daggers, waving pennants and flags.

“
Never again!
” Gerald roared. “There is no prince here, no queen, no God, there is no ruler here but the earl of Desmond!”

Pandemonium erupted in the glen.

And Gerald beamed, standing in his stirrups, and his eyes glittered feverishly.

Katherine stared out of the window of her old bedchamber across the rushing waters of the river below Askeaton Castle, which was perched on a small island. On the opposite bank she could just make out the bell tower of the abbey where her mother was buried. Lush green meadows surrounded it, and beyond stretched dark forests of elm, oak, and pine. Katherine was as familiar with the view as she was with the reflection of her own face in a looking glass. How good it was finally to be home.

But it was not enough. Askeaton would never be enough for her, not anymore.

Liam. How she loved him. How she missed him. How she missed him and their son. How irrelevant all of the past now seemed. Where was Liam now? Hadn’t he said that he would return for her—with their child?

He had delivered FitzMaurice. Her father was restored
to Desmond. What was keeping him—why hadn’t he come?

And was it truly possible? Had he abducted her so many years ago purposefully? Had he known of her existence even then, when she had not known him at all?

“Katherine?”

Startled, she turned to face her father, who had come into her room without knocking. Her smile of greeting died, because he looked so somber, and that was a rarity since his return to Ireland. “Father? Is something amiss?”

“You have a visitor,” Gerald said.

’
Twas Liam
. Katherine cried out, her hand clasped to her breast.

“’Tis the earl of Leicester,” Gerald said.

Katherine started. And when she did finally understand, she understood completely. He had chased her all the way to southern Ireland, to Askeaton, to collect what he was owed.
Oh, God
. Dread overwhelmed her and she could not move.

Gerald’s stare was hard. “Leicester is one of the most powerful men in England. Do not anger him, Katherine. Do not oppose him.”

“Father,” she began weakly.

“No!” he cut her off. “Do not fail me now. Do what you must do.” He turned and strode from the room.

Katherine stared after him, her chest tight, unable to move.
Do what you must do
.

Leicester was waiting for her downstairs, in the great hall, alone. He stood when she entered, his dark gaze sweeping over her thoroughly. His mouth was set in a firm, serious line.

Katherine’s heart thundered in her ears. She felt weak. Faint. She halted before she came too close to him, wondering with real panic if he intended to take her then and there, in the hall.

“Did you think to deny me my due?” he asked.

Katherine could not speak. She wet her lips.

“Let us walk in the garden,” he said abruptly. And he moved to her, taking her arm firmly in his.

The garden. He intended to take her in the garden. Katherine said not a word as he led her outside, into the courtyard, and then into one of the castle gardens. By the time they paused beneath a blossoming apple tree, Katherine had managed to get a grip on some of her panic and fear. Leicester released her. Katherine faced him cautiously.

“You ran away from me,” he said, his gaze sliding over her features, her mouth.

“Yes.”

“So you think to cheat me?” Anger flared in his eyes in spite of his mild tone.

Katherine lifted her head. “I do owe you. And if you insist, I will give you what you want. But…”

“I insist.”

She inhaled hard. “Please. Robin, do not do this.” She had never addressed him so familiarly before.

He cocked his head. “I have wanted you for a very long time, Katherine. You are mad if you think to convince me to desist. You may come to me willingly, tonight, or I will come to you, and take what I want—even if you think to resist me.”

She trembled. Closing her eyes. “You will not have to rape me.” She glanced at him. “But I love Liam.”

His jaw clenched. “I do not care.” He turned and strode away.

And Katherine watched him go, telling herself that she would survive the coming night. Yet she could not help but think of Liam, and wish for a miracle.

The afternoon was endless. Katherine stood at the window in her bedchamber, staring blindly out of it at the river and the surrounding countryside. Leicester sat with her father in the hall below, and their laughter rang out frequently. She could hear bits and pieces of their conversation, and knew that Gerald was getting thoroughly drunk. But Robin Dudley, unfortunately, seemed intent upon remaining sober.

The bright blue sky began to fade in hue. The sun began to gently lower itself.

Below, the men laughed uproariously, and a maid squealed.

Katherine clawed the stone windowsill. The sky was turning mauve now, the sun a flaming orange ball hanging over the thick forest.

She could not go through with this. Yet she would have to, because if she did not, he would rape her. Her mind was filled with panic. Perhaps she should poison him?

The sky was violet now, and a crescent moon, pale and incandescent, had appeared.

It was then that Katherine saw the ship. Black and sleek, its silver sails unfurled and proud, racing upriver toward her.

Katherine cried out.

The
Sea Dagger.
Liam. Liam had come
.

And then she remembered who sat downstairs with her father, and her excitement and joy disappeared, turned to real fear. Abruptly Katherine whirled and raced from her chamber, flying down the narrow, slick stone stairs.

Katherine froze in the middle of the hall. Her father also stood, swaying a bit. “Who comes?” he demanded, slurring the two words somewhat.

Katherine’s gaze met Leicester’s. “Liam,” she whispered.

Leicester’s expression hardened. Slowly he rose to his feet.

Liam strode into the hall.

Katherine cried out, joy piercing her breast. Clad in his breeches, high boots, and naught else but an unlaced tunic, he was the most magnificent sight she had ever seen. She was afraid of what was going to happen, but exhilaration swept through her, too, rendering her breathless.

And he had eyes only for her. “Katherine.”

With a glad cry, Katherine ran to him, into his arms.

Liam held her, hugged her, rocked her. Then he stiffened, and she knew he had just noticed Leicester standing behind her.

She looked up at Liam and their gazes locked. “Nothing has happened,” she whispered urgently.

“What does he want?” His tone was very, very dangerous.

“I…I promised him the use of my body—for his help in convincing the queen to free you.” Katherine clung to Liam’s broad shoulders, feeling his shudder of rage—terrified by it. “I love you so, Liam, that I would do anything to save your life.”

Briefly his gaze softened. “Katherine. How I have missed you.” His embrace tightened, and then his gaze grew dark and hard again. “You are not going to fulfill your part of the bargain.” He set her aside, turning to Leicester.

Katherine could not move.

Liam’s smile was cold. “Did you hear me, Dudley? I don’t care what pact you made with my
wife
. I break it, now.”

Leicester’s gaze widened. “And when did that deed occur?”

“Long ago,” Liam said softly, menacingly.

Leicester’s gaze slid to Katherine, and she nodded.

But Liam was not through. “Have you touched her?”

Leicester understood the challenge, and he stiffened, his hand going to the bejeweled hilt of his rapier. Looking only at Liam now, he said not a word.

Liam snarled, and in the blink of an eye, his rapier sliced the air, hissing softly. “Perhaps I will rid you of a certain package you are so fond of. And then you will have no way of terrorizing women.”

Leicester wielded his rapier now, too. A trickle of sweat gleamed on his temple. “You are insane. Katherine approached me. She herself agreed to our bargain. But she has never warmed my bed, O’Neill.”

“Stop,” Katherine whispered, as Liam began to stalk Leicester—who moved backward, away.