Gaelan latched onto him by the gorget, scowling at the English armor before meeting Ian's gaze. "Metal is forged with only a hammer and fire." Gaelan released him, two soldiers on guard.

Maguire yanked his remaining prisoners forward, and the men stumbled to the ground, the sound hollow on the wood planks.

Gaelan stepped closer, grabbing one man by the molded helm and tipping his head back, trying to see beneath the dirt and blood. "Driscoll," he barked, and the high sheriff rushed forward, sword drawn. "Know you him?"

Driscoll eyed the man for an instant. "Nay, my lord." At "my lord," Maguire scoffed, delivering a nasty glare at his countryman, and Driscoll returned the stare, looking at Ian as if he were a fool.

Ian shifted his mount closer. "Why do you taunt and maim, PenDragon, when you could easily kill us all?"

"If that were true, you'd have been dead a sennight ago." Gaelan eyed the prisoners. "These are not my men." He released his hold on the one.

"How would you know? You have legions."

"I know the faces of my men," Gaelan said with deadly finality. Names oftimes escaped him, but the look of fear in the men he'd fought beside for years did not. "They are your prisoners. Do as you will, chieftain."

Ian's features stretched tight. Was he ruthless enough to give his men up so easily?

"However," Gaelan added, "it has been my experience that they will not talk."

He's taken others, Ian thought. "Mayhaps you are not asking the right questions."

"You misunderstand. They do not speak a'tall." Maguire frowned, looking at the guilty. 'Twas true, the men had not uttered a word.

"Mayhaps"-Gaelan's tone was thoughtful and Ian's gaze flashed to his-"because if they did, 'twould mark them."

The accent. "You think they are Irish?"

Gaelan folded his arms over his chest. "Either way, we would know."

A page rushed forward, calling for him, skipping to a halt and staring dumbly at the Irish warriors illuminated by the torchlight. Gaelan nudged the lad and bent to his whispers.

He straightened. "Choose three of your va.s.sals and come with me, Maguire. Leave your weapons at the gate. Markus, take the prisoners to the dungeon," he ordered, turning into the keep.

"And if I choose not to?"

Gaelan looked back over his shoulder. "I will kill you where you stand, Irish. Until DeClare speaks, you are now my prisoner." With a wave of his hand, the Irishmen were surrounded, their weapons stripped. Sir Andrew waited beside Ian's mount, a courtesy to his rank.

Calmly, Ian tugged off his gauntlets. "It appears we've been invited for supper."

Gaelan ran, his heart pounding furiously, and he found Raymond lying on the bed in the privacy of the solar. Rhiannon was already shouting orders for her supplies and cutting Raymond's clothes from his torso.

She stilled at the st.i.tches in his garments, then frowned at the ones in his chest.

"He's been treated," she said, and Gaelan scowled. He doubted the Maguire would do such a thing. Which left Fionna or Siobhan the task, and he wondered why they'd allowed him to leave in such a state. He hovered, and Rhiannon b.u.mped into him twice.

"Go, you can do naught," she said, elbowing him back. "Not for a few hours."

He refused to move. "He knows what's happened!"

She rounded on him. "Do you not think I know that?" It was then he saw her tears. He'd no sympathy for them.

"Then touch him. Discover it. Your sister's life is at stake!"

"I've tried! He gives me naught in this weakened state and..." Her gaze shifted to Driscoll, framed in the entrance.

Gaelan turned, guilt crimping his face.

"The princess lives?"

"Aye."

Driscoll's features bore a mult.i.tude of anger and hurt. "d.a.m.n thee, PenDragon."

Gaelan crossed to him, grasping the man's shoulders when he was wont to leave or rail. "Be angry if you wish, but she was near dead." His voice lowered. "And safer in the village."

Driscoll's expression bespoke his understanding, the peril to her life. "Aye, my lord. But if none knew she lived, then what of DeClare?"

"He was guarding her and his presence here speaks of discovery. We must keep it that way." Driscoll nodded, trusting his judgment, and Gaelan looked to Rhiannon. "The instant he stirs, I must speak with him." He moved past with Driscoll, stopping short when he found Connal framed in the doorway, his stricken face tipped to Gaelan. Gaelan reached and the boy backed away.

"You lied!"

Gaelan grabbed the child, lifting him when he tried to tear free, held him when he squirmed, hushed him when he sobbed, then ducked into the privacy of the b.u.t.tery. "Shh, shhh," he hushed. "You always knew, didn't you? But I could not tell a soul, my lad, and you must swear to not speak of it. The person who killed Meghan wanted to kill your mother, and until we catch him, she is in grave danger." He prayed to G.o.d she was not involved in this, for if a trained knight was wounded so severely, what defense would Siobhan have?

His insides twisted at the thought.

Then, like a good prince of Erin, the child nodded and swore his silence.

Gaelan pressed a kiss to his forehead, patted his back, then set him to his feet, stepping back into the solar and staring at Raymond on the bed, his breathing shallow, his body so still. It frightened him, that he might lose his dearest friend, that with him he would take the knowledge of Siobhan's safety. He hoped Fionna had intervened and kept her hidden. He barked orders for a patrol to a.s.semble, sending them to protect the village.

"Nay, Owen," he said when the knight made to join them. "You remain here."

Owen's features tightened at the command, but Gaelan did not care. His absences and his prejudice for the Irish was only meanly tempered of late, and until this mystery was no longer, Gaelan trusted only a select few. He twisted around as Maguire and his chosen men were led inside.

Gaelan caught Bridgett's attention, nodding, and the woman seated them, quickly serving food and wine. The haggard O'Donnels stood back, proud and no doubt hungry. Gaelan waved and the servants ushered them to a table, quickly laying trenchers before them so they could not refuse his hospitality. He leaned his head back against the wall, his son tucked close to his side. Unconsciously his fingers sang through the boy's hair and at the tug on his tunic, he looked down into sad green eyes.

"We are surrounded by the enemy, aye?"

Gaelan scoffed a short laugh. "Aye, my lad."

"Then how will we leave to find my mama?"

Gaelan tilted his head and looked at the crowded hall, felt the nervousness of his people. One offense, one cross word, and his hall would be awash in blood. "Good question."

Ian watched him, taking in details he never thought to see in the mercenary. PenDragon was on the brink of exploding, his every gesture laced with impatience and worry. The big man paced in short steps before the raging hearth as he waited for DeClare to regain consciousness. For a moment he sat in a grand chair, the one beside it painfully empty, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hand. Maguire would swear the man was near tears. Or prepared to rip into the next person who crossed him. Then Connal moved to his side, tapping him, and his head jerked up, his hands falling away. PenDragon's smile was gentle with commiseration and he patted his knee. The boy scrambled onto his lap, burrowing into his side. PenDragon pressed his lips to the top of the boy's head. 'Twas a tenderness he'd never expected to witness, and he a.s.sumed Siobhan had tempered the legendary knight.

Yet resentment bled through Ian. PenDragon had what should be his: this keep, the princess of it, her son. Ian frowned at Connal as the lad stared wide-eyed up at the English lord with undisguised affection and the confidence a child gave only to a hero. There was something achingly familiar about the boy. And he continued to stare, trying to find the source.

Across the hall, Gaelan's gaze shifted, meeting the Maguire's and recognizing his scrutiny of the boy. He cuddled Connal tighter, shielding him. If Siobhan wanted Maguire to know he'd a son, she would have told him. He cared less if she chose to keep the truth from him for the remainder of her days, as long as she was returned to him. The little boy was Gaelan's only anchor, his single link to maintaining his sanity when he wanted to tear through the country to find out if she was with DeClare when he was attacked. Connal needed him, to be strong and resourceful, to be the father he never had ... to be patient when he'd so little left. Waiting for Raymond to waken was his only choice. Running off searching would serve to tear Siobhan farther and farther from him.

Maguire's stare narrowed.

He is my son now, Gaelan thought righteously. Even if you have sired him, he is mine.

In the solar, Rhiannon had stopped the bleeding, praising the healer who'd helped Raymond. The wound was mortal and would have laid a weaker man down, she thought, sitting at his bedside. He bore no fever, only exhaustion, and she mopped his brow, frowning when an odd sensation pa.s.sed over her skin, a p.r.i.c.king awareness too keen to ignore. She twisted, staring at the entrance, then left her chair, pausing, her hand on the door frame as her gaze searched the hall, then beyond to the inner bailey. PenDragon's troops were stripping armor off three men and when a troop pulled the helm off the tallest, Rhiannon inhaled a sharp breath, taking a step.

Patrick.

Several feet to the right Gaelan watched her skin go pale as milk, her eyes filling with despair and fear. His gaze shot to the prisoner, and across the distance the man met Rhiannon's gaze, then instantly looked away. Gaelan experienced a recurrence of the past, his features tightening when he recognized a vague familiarity.

He looked to the Maguire and realized the chieftain made the same connection. Ian arched a baiting brow, as if to accuse Gaelan of being in league with the prisoners. His fists clenched, he avoided a useless confrontation when Raymond called out. Rhiannon immediately spun into the room, hurriedly felt his brow, then checked his bandage.

He was already beside her, kneeling. "Easy, my friend."

Raymond licked dry lips. "Where is she? Bring her to me, I beg you."

Gaelan's features tightened with new misery. "Maguire found you, Raymond, alone."

Raymond groaned, his head lolling on the pillow. "I did not leave her, I swear. She was behind me, on the mount." He cursed over and over, attempting to leave the bed.

"Good G.o.d man, you cannot survive this." Gaelan pushed him down and held him.

Raymond lifted his gaze, defeat in his eyes. "I failed you. I'm sorry."

Gaelan could no more be angry with Raymond than he could with Siobhan, but at the moment, horrible images filled his brain, toying with his composure. Siobhan was unprotected, facing a killer filled with enough hatred that he could carve the skin from her bones. "I will find her." He stood, but Raymond snagged the hem of his tunic.

"I would speak to you in private." His gaze drifted to Rhiannon and flushing, she left. Gaelan knelt as Raymond settled into the bed, swallowing repeatedly. "I found a door in the earth." Scowling, Gaelan's eyes flared as he reached for a cup, holding it to Raymond's lips, supporting him as he drank. He sank gratefully into the pillows, his eyes closed in pain. "The ground was slanted so all they had to do was ride into the cavern and drop the door of earth over it." His lashes swept up, his gray eyes bleak. "We have been fools, Gaelan."

Gaelan thought of the armored prisoners in his dungeon now, and the ones he'd captured before, covered in the Maguire tartan. "Would we not have trod on at least one of these caves?"

Raymond shook his head ever so slightly. "'Twas heavily disguised with gra.s.ses and leaves and near trees. They attacked at night and the darkness covered their escape. You were right. They have warred wearing armor with the PenDragon crest, and they war with the garments of the Irish." He clenched his fist and smothered a moan as pain needled through his arm. "They are one in the same, Gaelan, one in the same."

Gaelan murmured for him to rest, but Raymond would not have it, grasping Gaelan's sleeve and pulling him close. His eyes were glazed with worry and pain as he said, "I swear to you, Gaelan, I did not leave her behind!"

"I know, my friend, I believe you," Gaelan soothed, but inside he was tormented with fear, raw and blistering.

"Whoever did this"-his gaze darted to his shoulder-"knows I discovered the caves."

Gaelan nodded and stood, abruptly leaving the solar. He stopped short when he found the Maguire in the doorway. Sir Andrew and Niles rushed up behind him, grabbing his arms.

"You dare much, Irish."

Ian jerked on the hold and Gaelan waved the men off. "It seems we have been made fools, the pair of us." Ian's gaze shifted once to DeClare, then to PenDragon. "She lives?"

He'd overheard too much to deny it. "Aye."

Ian's shoulders fell and he rubbed his hands over his face, praising G.o.d.

His relief was too real for Gaelan to ignore.

"Then where is she?"

"You kidnapped her once, Maguire..." The implication hung like a bleeding limb between them.

Ian's features pulled tight with guilt and shame. "I was a young, love-struck fool, newly jilted and trying to soothe my wounds."

"And now?"

Sadness ghosted through his dark eyes. "I admit that I would have liked to bring you to your knees, PenDragon, but not with Siobhan's life."

Gaelan stared, desperate to sort through his own confusion for the truth. Could he have invited a killer into his home? Had he found Raymond because he was there when Siobhan was stolen from him? Was this all a well-laid trap?

"I believe him."

Gaelan twisted to meet Raymond's stare. "You are drugged."

His lips quirked, pain glimmering beneath the half smile. "Rhiannon is the key, Gaelan. And where is the O'Niell in all this?"

"Rhiannon? You cannot be serious?"

Gaelan merely arched a brow, and the implication struck Ian like a blow to his middle.

"But O'Niell is in the north, fighting the same band as we have."

Gaelan bid Raymond sleep and brushed past, motioning for his men to follow.

"PenDragon," Maguire shouted, and Gaelan paused, twisting, his expression speaking his impatience to be on his way. His gaze swept him, the single look thorough and disturbing. The man trusted no one, Ian thought.

"Come, question these prisoners yourself, Maguire, for Siobhan is in the south, and O'Niell was last seen heading onto your lands."

Maguire cursed, and flanked by PenDragon's men, they headed to the dungeon.