She reared back, resisting the urge to rub the gooseflesh skipping down her throat. If he thought to conquer her body as well as her people, she would set him a'right and quickly. "By the G.o.ds, you are an arrogant man," she hissed, yet images exploded in her mind, of this man tasting her body, making her feel more woman than she had ever felt afore his coming.

"'Tis a failing." He shrugged without remorse. "It comes with never having been defeated."

She tipped her delicate chin, her eyes glacial. "Then prepare for your first, sir knight. For you will find, as my husband did, that battling on the field cannot compare to a war with me."

Her words slammed him in the chest, not for the challenge, but to remind him how delicate the situation had become. She held the will of her people, and mayhaps a neighboring chieftain or two, as well as the border villages: And short of slaughtering half of them for control, Gaelan knew he had to seek swift domination of the Celtic beauty as soon as possible.

Before she learned 'twas he who killed her husband.

Chapter 7.

Attention abruptly shifted to the shouts and clang of metal to metal beyond the open doors. Music droned to a sick halt, chatter faded. Scowling, Gaelan instantly drew his sword, and around them the knights followed, driving her folk back as a cry of pain rent the air, distant, hollow. Male. With only a glance warning her against rebellion, he caught her arm, pulling her toward the darkness beyond the doors. A soldier burst into the dim light, breathing heavily, blood on his hands, and her people's cries punctured the air.

Siobhan twisted, warning them sharply to be calm as the soldier and Gaelan spoke briefly.

His gaze flicked to her. "You have a guest, it seems." He leaned near. "Uninvited, I hope, for your sake."

"I hailed no one, PenDragon."

"We shall see," he said, ushering her through the doors into the torchlit yard. Beyond the light, bowmen atop the inner curtain pointed arrows into the yard, indistinguishable figures shifting in the darkness, moving closer.

Irish warriors. Clad in gold and green tartans and fur leggings, they were stripped of their weapons and held back at swordpoint near the inner gatehouse.

Sir Owen and the guards prodded several men on and Siobhan recognized them as a single fellow stumbled forward, his nose bloodied, his cheek sc.r.a.ped down to the bone. A few feet from her, he dropped to his knees, then tipped his head back.

"Lochlann," she whispered, starting for him, but Gaelan's grip held her back. She leveled him a venomous look. "Let me go to him!" She tried twisting out of his grasp, but he refused. "What harm can he do now?" She gestured to the archers.

"Do not make demands in this, princess. He attacked my patrol on the edge of this castle." Gaelan scoffed. "By rights he should be dead."

"By your rights we all should be littering the ground beneath your feet, PenDragon, but we are not."

He bent, his lips near her ear. "It can still happen," he said and she stilled, wondering what atrocity he'd inflict on them for a purse full of gold. It infuriated her that their lives and homes could be tallied on royal parchment and delivered to such a man at the whim of a foreign king.

"Is this how you treat those who have already sworn fealty to your king?" Lochlann interrupted, struggling to his feet.

Siobhan gasped, horrified. "Lochlann, nay!"

Lochlann's gaze swept from the PenDragon to hers, a flush of regret in his face. "You have not, I see." He smirked to himself, half admiring her. "I expected as much from you."

Her gaze thinned. "And I more of you, O'Niell."

His skin flushed with anger. "My people still live on their own lands."

"And so do mine." His betrayal stung. She'd have expected such acquiescence from Tigheran, for the last time she'd seen her husband he was off to Dublin to swear allegiance. But not of Lochlann. Though oftimes hotheaded, he was so unlike his half brother; more handsome, younger, with rich, dark brown hair and blue eyes that danced with his emotions. And he respected her position as a leader.

"You have proof of this alliance?" Gaelan demanded.

"With my mount."

Gaelan ordered the horse searched and Sir Mark stepped into the light with a roll of parchment. Gaelan released Siobhan and sheathed his sword. He glanced at the parchment, then met his gaze. "Why did you not make yourself known to me, O'Niell?"

Lochlann's spine stiffened, his pride already in ruins. "I could match you in a battle, PenDragon; she could not. She is my half-brother's wife and I swore to defend her, as did many clans." His tone warned him of coming trouble.

"You could be hung for this attack, you know."

"Irish blood is thicker than paper." Lochlann nodded to the parchment proclaiming him lord of his own on Henry's behalf. "O'Donnel and the Maguire would do the same. We'd see no harm come to her and her folk."

"Admirable," Gaelan sneered. "But the choice lies with the princess." He looked down at her. "When she swears, the threat will die."

Her expression wreaked of pure denial, though she kept her gaze on O'Niell.

"Henry awarded me my own lands." Lochlann's lips twisted with humorous irony. "Do the same, Siobhan."

She jerked from Gaelan, coming to face the O'Niell, her hands on her trim hips. She got out two words in Gaelic before Gaelan ordered her to speak English. She sent him a heated look, yet obeyed. She had naught to hide. "See to your own holdings and I will tend to mine, O'Niell." Both understood her implication. His lands and people were spa.r.s.e compared to hers. She risked the enslavement of more lives.

"Come to Coleraine with me. There, I can protect you from him."

"You cannot protect your own people from rival clans, Lochlann." She made a sour face. "And now you have made a deal with the English devil."

Fury pulled his features. "This b.a.s.t.a.r.d"-he snapped a hated glance at Gaelan, who watched them with bland interest-"will return to England and you will have your tuath."

"Nay, some soft lord will have it. England will have it! Swearing to him or to this king will be a lie, can you not see that? They have done naught to earn this right, this trust. There is no enemy to protect from, but them!" She pointed to the archers and knights.

Lochlann frowned. "But you let him in without a fight-I thought-"

She advanced to stop inches before him. "I spared lives. I suffer the price of this, not them."

His gaze swept her, hurried, anxious. "Has he touched you?"

"You cross the line, O'Niell," PenDragon growled behind her, his patience at an end.

"Nay." But Siobhan feared it would not be long before the l.u.s.ty knight took what he plainly desired.

Lochlann's shoulders drooped with relief as he said, "I worry you take on too much when there is no hope." He brushed a strand of hair off her temple, fingering it lightly.

She caught his hand, cupping it to her cheek, and behind her, Gaelan stiffened. "We have lived on hope afore, Lochlann."

"England is strong and determined, la.s.s. They will-"

A little shriek bit the air and Siobhan stepped back as Connal came running headlong into Lochlann. Gaelan warned his men not to fire as Lochlann caught the boy, thick bare arms lifting him high above his head and shaking him like a piglet.

"You are here! We are saved!"

Gaelan's features tightened as Lochlann hugged the child, then set him to the ground.

Connal glared up at Gaelan. "Go now. Or Uncle Lochlann will kill you."

"Connal!" Siobhan gasped. "Hold your tongue, child!"

Connal pouted up at her and she cuddled him close as Gaelan neared, staring at the boy, who slipped behind his uncle, then to Siobhan before bringing his gaze to the O'Niell. The Irishman's hostility was unmistakable, but that the O'Niell had his hand in Siobhan's, the boy tucked to his side angered him more than his arrival with forty armed men. They looked too much the family for his liking.

"Come to me, princess." Gaelan held out his hand.

She took a step, but Lochlann caught her back. "You dare touch her with hands stained by innocent blood!" Lochlann said, hatred in his blue eyes. Siobhan hissed something in Gaelic and he glared back, his lips clamped tight.

"What I do with her is no concern of yours." He let his gaze linger over her curves before meeting her gaze. "She is my prisoner."

Siobhan's gaze thinned before she pulled Connal forward and sent him inside to his aunt. She looked at Lochlann. "Go home."

"I will not leave you to this beast! I came for you!"

She turned her back on Gaelan. "Why do you think I am so helpless?" she asked. "You know I will not leave, yet you insult him and he will take it out on us."

"Enough!" Gaelan moved between them, forcing her behind. He focused on the O'Niell. "You and your men may leave, una.s.sisted and with your mounts." He folded his arms over his chest. "Yet weaponless."

When Lochlann looked to revolt, Siobhan moved beside the Englishman, unable to help her dear friend. "Do as he bids, O'Niell; 'tis generous and you threaten O'Rourke tuath."

Something flickered in Lochlann's gaze then, making her frown, for the blaze of his hatred fell on her, briefly, then cleared. He nodded, and sweeping his cloak over his shoulders, he and his men were escorted out. She dragged her gaze from the gate and looked up at the PenDragon.

The suppressed fury in his eyes drove the breath from her lungs.

He leaned close to whisper, "Get inside." He did not give her the chance to gainsay him, pulling her none too gently back into the keep. Every pair of eyes followed their trek through the hall and into the barren solar filled with dust and a desk. The instant they found privacy, she wrenched free and rounded on him.

"Nay!" He advanced, making her step back. "Dare you undermine my authority! I am lord here, not you!"

"I would spare them bloodshed."

"He is sworn to Henry. He raises a sword to me and he raises it to the king!" His expression darkened like pa.s.sing clouds. "Lochlann O'Niell is a fool to enter here with so many more to keep him out. My men have orders to kill anyone who ventures too close. Count yourself lucky 'twas not his head presented to you!" He backed her up against the desk, slapping his hands on either side of her hips, hemming her in. "Interfere again, woman, and I will separate you from that child and all your people until you learn to behave!"

Her gaze remained locked with his. "I am not a child, sir; do not treat me as one."

"I will until you see reason and swear oath!"

"We have traveled this road afore, PenDragon. I could swear this night, but 'twould be meaningless. You leave soon and another will come and do the same. And I will fight."

And another would take her to his bed, make her his wh.o.r.e, defiling her, breaking her spirit before he enslaved her people. The very idea sent him into a silent rage and he stepped back, clenching his fists. "Do not hold account to rumor or a.s.sumption, princess." He arched a dark brow, speculation in his gaze. "This could change as quickly as it has today."

She looked confused for an instant. How much more could they expect? "If you seek to kill me to eliminate the obstructions, then do so." As she said it she knew he wouldn't. She was a plaything still and he was not done with her.

"Do not tempt me." Yet the thought of hurting her to gain her compliance sickened him, just as the thought of her touching the O'Niell had twisted his gut into knots. Jealousy-it could be only that-spirited through him and even as the words left his tongue, he regretted asking. "Do you wish to wed the O'Niell?"

She blinked, then frowned. "'Twould not change matters atween you and I; I would still rule Donegal."

"You rule no more!" That she would not give him an answer angered him further. "As Henry's liege, I can give you to him."

Siobhan straightened. "I am not a gift to be handed over, PenDragon, simply because I am female. Nor do I wish a marriage again. With anyone."

He stood inches from her. "You have no choice."

"You just asked me to make one," she scoffed, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. "Brehon law, Englishman. I have the right to deny any suit. The death of Tigheran by the hand of one of your own"-his features yanked taut then-"left me a wee bit vulnerable. Not stupid."

The reminder set his temper on edge and he gripped her upper arms, dragging her up against his hard frame. "You are a foolish woman, Siobhan O'Rourke." She flattened her palms over his chest, her heart skipping at the unmerciful look in his eyes. "Do you not realize that there will be more behind me? Ambitious, cruel men. Petty Irish kings whom Henry has granted armies! Pembroke and DeLacy argue now over earldoms of Ireland. And only the wrath of Henry himself will stop them!"

"Then I will-"

A cry sounded from behind and Connal bolted, driving his head into the back of Gaelan's knee, buckling his leg. He released Siobhan, straightening as the child wedged himself between them.

"Do not hurt my mama!" he shouted, staring up at him, his round eyes filled with fat tears.

"Oh, my brave lad," Siobhan cooed, gathering him in her arms. Connal grabbed her dagger, viciously swiping the air before Gaelan's chest, and she caught the hilt. "What think you to do, son?"

"Kill him afore he kills us." Still Connal tried to reach the knight, grunting with his effort, and Gaelan watched, transfixed by the courage in one so small.

Siobhan wrestled the dagger free of his little hand, her gaze flicking to PenDragon's. She was surprised to see regret in his dark eyes. He stared as she stroked her son's head, pressing it to her chest. "There, there, my prince. Shhh," she hushed, touching kisses over his soft hair, rocking him. "Your father would have been proud, but the knight will not kill us."

"But Uncle Lochlann said-" The boy yawned, his anger dying with his fatigue.

"I'm saying he will not." Her head tipped ever so slightly, her gaze never leaving Gaelan's. "Will you?"

Gaelan swallowed thickly. He prayed circ.u.mstances never forced him to break such a vow and said, "Nay, I will not."

Connal's eyes flashed open, his bravery gone as he wrapped his arms tightly around his mother's neck. "You swear?"

Gaelan could only nod and Siobhan dipped to sweep her train over her arm, then rushed from the room.

Guilt spirited through Gaelan as he stood outside the chamber door, watching her tuck her son into bed. She looked angelic in her regal garments, crouched on the floor, stroking his hair off his forehead, adjusting the bedclothes. He was envious of the gentle touch, having experienced naught in the past that was not the practiced maneuver of a well-paid wh.o.r.e. And even then, they trembled with fear to the point that, too often, he could not a.s.suage his needs and found relief in the icy waters of the nearest river.

But all he could think now was that she was left in this position, a.s.suring a small boy he would not die and fighting for her home, because of him, not the king's edict. He'd taken her husband from her, Connal's father, when a child needed his sire most. And for this singular moment, it did not matter that Tigheran tried to a.s.sa.s.sinate Henry, but that he'd died at the end of Gaelan's sword. He'd torn her world apart years ago and now he was here to do it again. A fortnight prior he would not have cared a wit. A sennight prior he would have rammed his way inside, imprisoned her people, and burned the keep to the ground. The thought of doing so now twisted like a fist in his chest. But she was pushing him to drastic measures and if he did not have her acquiescence, he could not tell the king he had control. Nor could he leave.

"You must stay abed, love."

Connal yawned adorably and snuggled into the covers. "I miss Dermott."