"I speak with the princess."

"You speak with me or die now. As a sworn va.s.sal of Henry, you break your oath coming here armed for battle."

"I have sworn to no one."

Gaelan could feel her I-told-you look.

"I come for the princess, not to attack, PenDragon."

"That did not stop you three days ago."

Ian's brows drew down. "What do you accuse, English?"

Gaelan withdrew a sc.r.a.p of fabric from inside his tunic. "Deny this is your plaid?"

"What are you talking about?" Siobhan hissed but Gaelan ignored her. "Is that from the day in the field?" She tried to get a look at it. "For if so, I will tell you now, 'twas not Ian's men."

"That time they were masked as well, Siobhan."

That time. The blood on his armor, his sword the day he arrived, she realized. "'Tis a mistake. I know these people!"

Gaelan shot a bolt at his horse's feet.

The horse reared, and as Ian sought control he yelled, "You know 'tis mine."

"I could have told you that," Siobhan snapped.

Gaelan fired a heated look at her and motioned her into silence. The fool woman was pushing a wood box close to stand on. "Stay back," he warned. She didn't, leaning over the edge.

"Ian Maguire!" The man's gaze jerked to her and his relieved smile was blinding, killing Gaelan's compa.s.sion. "What have you done? 'Tis true? Did you attack his men?"

"I am not a fool, Siobhan. I cannot defeat Henry's army and neither can you."

"I do not have to! I did not raise arms to him. I swear you are still so reckless."

"Siobhan," Gaelan warned. She waved him off like a bothersome child, and his patience at an end, he hopped down and strode to her.

"I would not risk your life, Siobhan," Ian said.

"You risk it now, all of ours." She waved to encompa.s.s her lands. "Why are you all so willing to die?"

"For you, love, I would."

"Oh, Ian," she moaned, and beside her, Gaelan's scowl turned black.

"Let him have Donegal, Siobhan. Come home with me, marry me. I will see you safe."

Yanking her back, Gaelan leaned over the wall and shouted, "If she weds anyone, Maguire, 'twill be me!"

Chapter 11.

A hundred pairs of eyes snapped to him, stunned by his declaration.

"What?" Siobhan gaped up at him. "But you leave!"

Gaelan heard the horror in her voice, felt the shallow depth of his station, yet kept a careful watch on the man below as he spoke. "Did I not tell you the situation could change?" Gaelan had never allowed his emotions to rule him, but greed pushed him. Greed for more than his worth, unexplainable to a man who'd needed no one, had wanted no ties, especially to a woman-for she, this rebellious princess, was beyond anything he imagined. Yet he'd known what he wanted the moment he'd laid eyes on Siobhan O'Rourke and laid his mouth to hers.

He would not be denied.

Ian's expression turned molten, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "She won't marry the enemy."

"You challenge me, Maguire?"

Archers took careful aim.

"Ian! Nay! Do not!" She gripped the stone ledge. His men would all die!

"You wed him and you betray Ireland," Ian warned, his voice steely with suppressed rage.

She gasped, deeply stung. "I wed no one and you risk the king's anger."

"I do not bring the enemy into my bed and his blood into our clans!"

Siobhan reddened, her gaze thin and p.r.i.c.king. "I have not, Ian." Curse men and their foolish pride. "I choose whom I wed, Ian. You should know that by now!"

Ian's handsome features stretched taut.

"Enough!" Gaelan hauled her against his side.

"Let her go, PenDragon!" Ian raised his arm, his archers ready to return fire.

PenDragon's men aimed. "I give you one warning, Maguire." He looked down at Siobhan, his voice low. "War or peace is in your hands, princess. Agree to wed me or there will be blood shed. The Maguire's the first to spill."

His ultimatum infuriated her. His threat to her oldest friend tore through her very soul, sc.r.a.ping away the tenderness she'd experienced in his arms only moments before.

She stared up at him, her world teetering on the brink of war. To submit to him in wedlock would bind her forever to the enemy, forcing her to obey his commands and his desire. And to reveal her secrets. Yet she'd already sworn to take any punishment there was to give. Marriage to the beast would be enough to a.s.sure her place in heaven, she thought maliciously, then thought of Connal, his future so uncertain, his inheritance lost until this moment.

His arm flexed at her waist and her gaze flew to his.

"I want no other, Siobhan." His lips quirked with a touch of arrogance. "And your body tells me what you desire."

His gaze flicked down to where her hand rested on his chest, her fingers unconsciously moving over his armor as if 'twere his skin.

She quickly dropped her hand. "Aye, Englishman. For the sake of my brethren, I will wed you." And he will live to regret it.

Gaelan schooled his features, the venom in her tone slicing him like a blade, but there was no turning back now. His future was set. "Tell him." He inclined his head to the Maguire.

Stoically she pushed out of his arms and stepped onto the wooden box, gazing down at her friends. It took every ounce of will to speak the fatal words. "I wed the PenDragon."

Ian cursed, his despair palpable. A rumble of discontent filtered through the keep, from the warriors prepared beyond the walls. "He threatens you, doesn't he?"

"He would not have had to, Ian, if you had not come to war."

Ian's expression fell into utter sadness and regret.

"Say no more, Siobhan." Gaelan watched, alert for the slightest signal.

She looked back over her shoulder. "There will be stipulations to the marriage, PenDragon. Do not look so pleased."

He studied her for an instant, wondering what she had brewing in that sharp mind of hers, but as his wife there was little she could do to him. "We will discuss them later." He looked back at the Maguire.

"Let him go unharmed."

The broken plea in her tone was unmistakable and he could not look at her, could not bear to see the tenderness she bore the chieftain, and for an instant thoughts of her heart belonging to the man, sharing kisses with him, or mayhaps a bed, plagued him. Gaelan nodded gravely. "For the sake of my bride, you may leave unharmed, Maguire. But arrive again armed to do battle and I will give you what you wish."

Ian's gaze shifted from Siobhan to the warlord, his expression defeated as he nodded once and wheeled his mount toward home. Siobhan watched him until he and his army were naught but darker shadows on the night-blackened land, then, without a word, she turned away from PenDragon and walked to the west tower, descending the narrow stone staircase leading into the outer ward. She stilled when knights bowed to her and she glanced back over her shoulder to the man on the parapet.

"Give me time to tell my son."

His features shifted, as if just realizing she did not come to him alone; then he nodded. Siobhan walked toward the keep, soldiers and her folk stepping back to allow her pa.s.sage. Villagers whispered prayers and sympathy for her. Suddenly she grabbed handfuls of her skirts and ran, to the home that was no longer hers, hiding the tears she ached to shed.

Two hours later, Gaelan entered the solar, his brows rising high. The room was scrubbed clean, the furniture arranged. In the far left, near the hearth, stood a large bed. Did she think to keep him sequestered here?

Raymond cleared his throat and Gaelan glanced, motioning him inside.

"I have sent for the priest." Gaelan frowned. "He should witness this, be prepared to gainsay any demands."

Demands. Siobhan had made enough already, as if he did not hold her life in his hands. "Have her man Driscoll attend; Brody too, if she desires."

"You do not wish to speak with her alone first?"

"Aye, I will," Gaelan said, with a glance at the bed.

Raymond made himself a place at the desk, setting inkwell and sand carefully to the surface. He racked the papers and dipped the quill. "Mayhaps now you will have the time to learn to read."

"I don't need to."

"Ahh, but you will, for you have to appoint a steward, a sheriff, and it would not harm Reese to be schooled a bit more."

Gaelan twisted, arching a brow. "You are pleased with this, I see."

Raymond looked up, laying the quill aside. "Aye."

Gaelan studied his somber expression, detecting a hint of laughter in his eyes. "You may leave Ireland, if you wish. I cannot stop you from earning your keep as we have." He turned his gaze to the window, a tinge of regret inching through him, wiped away with her image.

Raymond had no intention of going anywhere. Ireland pleased him and more so, to see what transpired between his friend and his new bride. "Will you be happy as lord of Donegal?"

Gaelan scoffed nastily. "The only one who will be pleased is King Henry."

"You lie," Raymond said softly and Gaelan's gaze snapped to his. "You have all you need and more here."

"Aye, a people who issue prayers to G.o.d when they see me and a bride who loathes the man I am."

Raymond propped his elbow on the desk surface, his chin on his fist. "She did not appear repulsed in the barn, Gaelan."

Gaelan's lips tugged a fraction. Nor was she here earlier. But much had changed. He was forcing her into this marriage. And though Gaelan had never in his life expected to wed, and certainly not Irish royalty, he knew there was no other way to gain control. Possess the princess and her people would follow. He returned his gaze to the window, to the little garden he could see behind the kitchens. Neat rows of seedlings struggled to push through the rocky soil and he could tell the garden was tended with a loving hand. Could he find that caring for this pile of stone and wood? Would he grow tired of the mundane and thirst for battle again?

In the silence of his mind he admitted he'd garnered more of his share of doubts since his declaration, and though he did not regret it, he questioned his ability to be lord and master over villagers and families when he'd commanded only coa.r.s.e, violent men for so long.

And to do all this with a bride he had forced?

You are the worst kind of man, PenDragon. Letting the blood of others, for others.

Would she change her mind now that any fighting he did, he did for her and her folk? And what, G.o.d help him, would she do when she discovered he had killed her husband?

A rustling sound drew his attention and he turned his head. She stood on the other side of the room, Driscoll and the priest behind her.

"I wish to speak with you in private, my lord."

My lord. G.o.d above, he hungered for the moment when she would say his given name.

Raymond stood, inclining his head to the others.

"You mentioned stipulations, princess." Gaelan flicked a hand toward the bed. "Is this one of them?"

"Aye."

"Nay."

She moved around the desk, closer to him, her fragrance spiraling up to greet his senses with heather and spice. Soft and womanly she was, but her eyes, her posture, were layered with northern ice.

"You have me by threat, PenDragon, and no other reason, understand this well," she hissed in a low voice. "I swear to perform my duties as chatelaine, offer the people a united front, but I will not share your bed and-"

"Nay," he interrupted. "That is unacceptable. We will share a chamber and a bed." She winced at the words. "And what transpires behind the sealed doors is our concern alone, yet afore your clan and my men, you will appear the wife in every sense." His meaning could not be more clear. "I will not bring shame to this castle nor my name."