Time After Time (104 page)

“Will you and Rebec-?” she couldn’t get the words out.

He grasped her hand turning it over to bring the palm up to his lips. His kiss there brought shivers through her body. “No. I will not marry her or anyone. Goodbye Kaireen and good journey in the morning.”

Without another word, he left. Moments went by and she could not stand to be outside any longer. She flew past dancers, not stopping when her father bellowed her name. She ran. It wasn’t until she was at her sister’s bed room did she stop.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Her sister answered. “Stay with Megan for me? I haven’t been able to dance tonight because her stomach’s been ailing her, but I think she’s over the brunt of it.”

She nodded woodenly. Megan lay on her side with her mouth open as she slept.

Her thoughts shifted to self-pity. What was wrong with her? Wasn’t this what she wanted? To be rid of Bram and not have to marry him? Then why did she feel so wretched?

Chapter Twenty-three

Bells pealed from the monastery’s bell tower to signal the morning meal. Within this square sanctuary, candles stood in gold candelabras. The scent of beeswax mingled with the smell of soap, and earth from stone and wood. Oak benches lined the wooden walls. Kaireen would move the seating back after the floor dried.

Kaireen rubbed her back, never imagining a stone floor could be so filthy. She vowed to have her servants mop hers and Bram’s keep once a day. She smiled at the notion.

But she had not seen him for three days since he told her goodbye. She spent those days and nights here, at the monastery.

The admittance to herself of her wanting his kisses angered her. After the first day of scrubbing the floors here like she thought the devil would rise out of a stain, she let her mind wander. It was a tedious task, but no thinking was needed to complete them. She should have felt relief at Bram’s words; instead, she yearned for things she did not yet want to admit. She longed for his arms to hold her, his lips upon hers. She bit her lower lip. Had he forgotten her?

Her parents left strict instructions with Friar Connell. She should serve the church well and earn her repentance.

Friar Connell’s eyes told her how excited he was to oversee her punishment. Now Kaireen no longer wondered why. They gave her all the duties no one else wanted.

She grasped the wooden bucket full of gritty water and then slumped outside. At least here it smelled of old paper, mud, and goats. She would never go to the dyes again.

The bells continued their clanging. Kaireen’s felt ill at the thought of the simple breakfast they had here. Eggs, milk, and slices of bread donated from the serfs as part of their tithe. Since the last time she had seen Bram, her appetite had vanished. Still she forced the food down.

Working for hours before the sun rose did not help her appetite. Neither did it help her sleep. She tossed and turned every night.

Brisk wind flung her brown robes against her skin. The wool itched her. Another necessity for her punishment, and the damask gown she arrived in was locked away until her departure.

With one hand she shielded her eyes from the eastern sun, and held the robe away from her front with the other.

Strands of her auburn hair loosened from her braid and wisped across her face. Strange, she did not smell the eggs sizzling from the great hall, nor did smoke rise outside from the hearth.

She dumped the bucket. Water sloshed across the grass. Then she swung the bucket as she went back inside the nave.

Opening the wooden cupboard, she replaced the empty bucket alongside the damp mop.

Again the bells rang, as if they forgot they already called everyone to the first meal.

She held handfuls of her robe as not to trip and raced outside. Friar Connell prohibited tardiness. She did not want him to deny her penance served because of lateness.

She stumbled forward. Grumbling, she hiked her robe higher.

Monks scrambled through the courtyard with anxious looks on their faces. The bells’ peal echoed in her ears. She winced at the sense of urgency of their sound vibrating through the air.

Friar Connell raced toward her, waving his thin arms. His face flushed. His brown robe bulged outward from the wind making his thin frame seem to skitter forward a step. He grasped Kaireen’s elbow and dragged her forward.

“Did you not hear the bells?” He did not wait for her answer. “To the tower basement before they are upon us, in case they come this way after the battle.”

Smoke billowed in the distance, from direction of her father’s keep. Kaireen jerked to a stop. “Lochlanns attacked our keep?” Her bow and dagger were at her parent’s keep. The monks did not allow women to have weapons or anyone who did penance to have them here.

“No, no.” Friar patted her hand. He managed a weak smile which did not reach his grey eyes. He sighed as though realizing she was not placated by his answer. “’Tis another clan. Not sure who, but blood trails behind them.”

Lead weight plunged to the pit of Kaireen’s stomach. Warring clans proved worse than even the Lochlanns at times. This was the purpose of her marriage to Bram to help guard against future Lochlann and other Irish clan attacks. If she had agreed, she and Bram would have been married now and together they would have faced this foe.

She ran toward the stable with Friar Connell on her heels.

“You can do no good, lass,” he panted, chasing after her. “This is in God’s hands.”

Inside, the monks had left the stables abandoned. Kaireen snatched her saddle from the stall wall.

Hauling the leather saddle onto her mare, the horse neighed as though sensing the urgency of her mistress.

The saddle situated, Kaireen tightened the girth underneath the horse’s belly.

Friar Connell, red-faced, flapped his jaws, but she ignored him. His words drifted on the air of foolish girls and having faith.

She snatched a bridle and slipped it over her mare’s head, adjusting the bit. Ready, she placed her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up. She settled into the saddle hiking her monk’s robe out of the way and tightening her hands on the reins.

Friar Connell stood defiant, blocking her way. “Get off that horse, or you do penance for a month—married or not.”

“Despite if this cost me a lifetime, I will not abandon my clan by cowering in the safety of your monastery.” The chestnut mare pranced within the stall, anxious to get out and gallop. “Move, my good friar or I shall jump through you.” She had to see Bram. Somehow she knew he was still at the keep, that he had not left yet. It consumed her to know for herself that he was unharmed. She could scarcely think of little else.

He harrumphed at her, but she kneed her horse forward.

With a yelp, Friar Connell dove sideways as Kaireen’s horse jumped past where he had stood and raced from the stables.

But Kaireen did not know how she could help. Her bow and arrow were out of reach within her quarters at the keep. If the warring clan recognized her, they would hold her for ransom or as bait.

Ancient oaks and ash streamed passed her as her horse galloped forward. Kaireen clutched the reins, hoping to calm her nerves.

Suddenly her horse altered their path, and headed for a cluster of elm trees. Kaireen jerked on the reins to redirect her to the keep, but the mare continued on her new route.

“Turn around.” She kneed the animal and tugged the reins. The horse took a few side steps, but kept on the path toward the trees.

At their approach, a group of crows took flight, cawing at the intrusion. Kaireen leaned back in the saddle to turn the possessed beast around.

Past the first row of elm and shrubs, her horse stopped within a clearing in the center of the trees. Kaireen slipped backward, landing on the ground, her horse whinnying at her for not holding on.

Kaireen rose and dusted her brown robe. “I would not have fallen if you had obeyed,” she scolded her horse. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh and she rubbed her arms.

Distant shouts drifted from the battle carried on the wind. Kaireen shook her head and heard the rustling of leaves stuck in her auburn hair. She had no time for formalities.

“Enough.” She strode to her mare.

To turn the stubborn beast around she tugged on the bridle. Her horse locked its legs, and refused to move one step forward.

“If you do not move this instant,” Kaireen struggled with the reins, “I will leave you here and go afoot.”

Still the animal would not budge.

A murmur behind her sent her heart slamming into her chest.

Had an enemy seen her and followed her? She dropped the reins, glaring at her horse for getting them into this mess, and looked behind her.

On a fallen log faded silver by time, Elva sat with her back straight and hands crossed in her lap. A bemused smile twitched at the corner of her handmaid’s mouth.

Kaireen gasped. What was her handmaid doing outside, here in a splattering of trees?

She lifted her chin and resisted the urge to pluck the twigs and leaves from her hair. Perhaps her appearance caused her handmaid’s amusement. “What are you doing here? You should be at the keep, preparing the heated oil to pour on our enemies.”

Elva stood, unclasping her hands. The same instant, Kaireen’s horse unlocked and began to graze.

“I am where I am meant to be for the moment,” Elva answered.

Kaireen opened her mouth to speak, but her handmaid continued.

“And where do you think you are going? Not to battle.” She tsked. “Captured or killed if you go in now.”

Kaireen clenched her fists at her side. “Bram, a-and my family need me.” His name tumbled from her lips. Was she to be a widow before she became a bride?

Elva clapped her hands together and Kaireen jumped. “You fell for the lad. It’s etched across your heart, for all who can see to see.” She chuckled.

Kaireen stomped toward her horse. “I have no time for your foolishness,” she called back. Many people whipped their servants, but Kaireen never had; however, this situation gave ample thought now.

Approaching her mare, the animal skirted around her. She whirled around as the horse pranced to the other side of the silver log near Elva. Realizing her mouth was agape, she clamped it shut.

Elva stepped forward. “If you wish to save him,” she took another step, “you must do exactly as I instruct.”

Uneasiness crept across Kaireen. The wind stirred. Around them a fog crept through the elm trees. It drifted across the ground. The white mist covered the earth. The elm trees rustled and were swallowed by the fog.

Elva stood less than a foot from Kaireen. Yet she barely saw the color of her handmaid’s grey livery.

Her pale skin disappeared into the fog as if her handmaid was never there. Elva stepped forward and clutched Kaireen’s arm. She spoke of her plan and what her mistress must do.

Kaireen shifted, listening to the rantings of a madwoman.

Chapter Twenty-four

Feoras smirked at his brother’s back. Their men tore through the Liannon clan. Revenge fueled their swords.

In front of him, Bearach slew two of Liannon’s clansmen. Their blood spewed in an arc. Bearach roared as though he were a berserker. Then he bound for another man who attacked one of his sons.

Feoras frowned. Best if Bearach’s sons died in battle with their father. If they managed to survive, their death would be arranged later. They were more stupid than their father.

The clanging of metal swords and shields vibrated through the air. His men breached the outer walls and filtered in through the gateway.

Left of the gateway’s column tower, women lifted a steaming cauldron. As the O’Neill’s passed, the women aimed the hot oil and drenched men below.

The screams of horses and men drowned out Bearach’s warning bellow as he hacked through the crowd of Liannon a foot away.

Scalding oil fried the men’s skin raw. In crackling heat, skin burst and the sizzling of flesh echoed with the stench of burning bodies. Fiery arrows shot from the slits in the walls igniting the oil as they passed the gate.

Feoras kicked his horse into a run. With his shield he dodged swords and arrows. Past the gate tower, he set his horse to a gallop. His destiny would protect him from the burning oils. Seconds later, he passed the gate tower and then heard the crash of two boulders drop behind him. “For the death of Laird O’Neill and the reign of the new laird!” he called to his clansmen and raised his sword high.

His men repeated his words in a shout. Following Feoras, they stormed ahead to the keep.

Laird Liannon had placed a majority of his soldiers to defend the gateway. It was not enough to defeat Feoras. He and a few men had breached it.

When Feoras captured Kaireen, he would force the Liannon clan to bow.

Besides, Feoras smiled as he sliced a peasant who raised an axe at him, the laird and his wife would die soon after Kaireen.

No peace would be made with the Liannon clan. The death of Laird O’Neill dissolved the pact. All those in authority and their families would die. The servants and peasants would be given the option of pledging fidelity of slavery to the O’Neill’s and would live if they did so.

The O’Neill’s would keep fighting until Feoras yanked their necks to stop. Previously, Bearach, blinded by rage, promised to deliver the guilty ones from the Liannon clan.

Feoras wished he could have witnessed the look on his brother’s face when he saw their father’s sword protruding from the old man’s chest.

A pregnant woman screamed before he realized his horse had trampled her. He shrugged, one less Liannon bastard to feed when he became ruler of these lands.

He straightened in his saddle. Today, he would make his mother proud of him.

Today, he rescued her from her life of servitude and restored her to the laird’s side as she was meant. The O’Neills were punished because of tossing her away, but the Liannons were to be crushed beneath his heel for making her a servant. They knew she was the former wife of the Laird O’Neill and yet they treated her like a slave.

Bearach would argue her return, but it was why he would die nobly in this battle.