And so was Siobhan.

Leaping to his feet, he bolted to the door, jerking it open. Reese turned, his posture straight, his face freshly scrubbed.

"Good morrow, sir." He held out fresh clothes.

"Where is she?"

Reese peered around his master. "Not with you?"

"Would I be asking if she was?" Gaelan glanced back into the room, then ordered, "Find her."

s.n.a.t.c.hing the clothes, he dressed quickly, strapping on his sword as he strode first to Connal's room, finding it neat but empty, then to the squints, a small portion carved out of the wall of the upper floor wall, enabling him to view the hall. Servants moved in their duties, popping in and out of doorways banking one wall. He'd yet to know where they all led. Where the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l was she? And how did she leave the chamber without disturbing him? Or Reese?

He started for the staircase and heard footsteps.

A loaf of bread tucked under his arm, Raymond greeted him with a black look. "Well, you've made matters-"

"Where is she?" he interrupted.

Raymond's scowl deepened. "The princess? Heading to the kitchens last I saw."

Gaelan braced his shoulder against the cold stone wall, raking his fingers through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck. He frowned at the chamber door again.

Raymond shoved a mug of honeyed wine in his fist. "d.a.m.n you, Gaelan, the place is in an uproar about you sleeping in her chamber." He'd settled no less than four scuffles between soldiers and Irish this morn alone. It seemed when it came to defending their princess, the fact that there were nearly a thousand foot soldiers about made little difference.

"She will tell them the right of it." Gaelan watched the activity below, impatient for confirmation.

"You mean, you didn't bed her?"

The mug halfway to his lips, he reared back. "Sweet Jesu, even you?" With Henry's conquest on tenuous thread, the king would have his head if he planted a b.a.s.t.a.r.d in the princess when he'd no intention of remaining in Ireland.

Raymond propped his foot on a bench and tore off a chunk of his bread, offering a portion to Gaelan. "You have been known to bed the prettiest wenches after siege."

Aye, he thought, munching on the crust. Before he'd thought little of it if a willing girl gave him a look, but Siobhan had not, not in the forest nor the stables, and he found he wanted her to admit to her desire, if but once. He wanted her to smile at him, touch him, for being touched by the woman was more pleasure than kissing her ripe mouth. He straightened, shrugging off his fantasies. He'd kissed a peasant then, not a princess.

"Shall we seek out her highness and settle the terms?" Gaelan said. "The sooner the king's work is done, the swifter we are onto the next siege."

Raymond forced a smile and nodded. But Gaelan didn't move, his gaze on the hall below.

Ordering a swine slaughtered for the evening meal, Siobhan left the cook house, crossing the yard and through the narrow corridor leading back into the hall. She caught a man as he, pa.s.sed. "Sprinkle this on the rushes," she said, pressing a sack into Davis's hand. "And get those flea-bitten hounds out of here." She gestured to the dogs snapping at servants as they pa.s.sed.

He looked at her, a spark of fear in his old eyes.

"If PenDragon has an upset, then he can clean up after them." Davis snickered and nodded, shuffling off. "Meghan, open the shutters, please. Crowley, the hearth needs a good sweeping, if you don't mind. The men will be about and hungry soon, my friends. We must prepare."

"I don't see why we must feed them."

"We must keep the peace for a bit, Moira," she said to the elder woman with a touch to her arm. "And if a bit of bread and ale will suffice"-she shrugged-"so be it." She rushed to a servant trying to move a table, pulling her away from the ch.o.r.e. "Nay, Jana. Have you no sense?" She nodded to her pregnant belly.

Jana swiped the back of her hand across her brow and exhaled tiredly. "I did not want the PenDragon thinkin' I am not working my share."

Siobhan hid her irritation. Did he not see what havoc he wreaked with just his presence? "Worry not, friend. What does a wandering knight know of overseeing a keep? Now"-she wrapped her arm about her waist, guiding her from the ch.o.r.e-"I want you lifting no more than a loaf of bread, and in an hour's time I expect to see you resting in the weaving house." She looked at a young man, one of Gaelan's pages. "You there, help move this to the wall." He appeared as if he'd disobey and her gaze narrowed.

"Do it," came a quiet command, and Siobhan looked up. PenDragon stood at the upper portal, Sir Raymond at his side. Resplendent in a brown leather tunic, he nodded cordially, a strange look on his handsome face. She dipped her head in acknowledgment, remembering how he looked lying on her floor, his features soft in slumber, his beautiful body long and powerful. Then she recalled how much she'd wanted to touch him and she broke eye contact.

The page obeyed, and Siobhan turned to Meghan, asking her to watch over Jana.

"Mama!" Connal rushed to her from the b.u.t.tery, smiling happily. She scooped him up in her arms and gave him a noisy kiss. He giggled, then cupped her face, suddenly looking too serious for one so young.

"I feared he would hurt you."

Her love for him doubled in that instant, for his imagination must have tormented him last night. "You needn't, my prince. I can take care of myself."

He pouted a bit. "I am not a prince anymore, aye? He comes and takes that."

Siobhan's heart sank to her stomach and, ignoring the knight's gaze following her like a beam of light, she carried her son to the hearth, setting him in his favorite chair. Kneeling, she gave him a bowl of bread soaked in sweetened milk as she spoke in low tones. "You are a prince of Erin. 'Tis in your blood and will never change here." She tapped his narrow chest. "You cannot allow it, for Ireland's history will be lost to the invaders lest we forget." He nodded solemnly, spooning soft bread into his mouth. "I've work to tend. Behave for Moira, and you may search for Dermott. I trust you will bathe him this morn?" He made a face, then finally agreed as she motioned to Moira. The older woman's sour mood lifted the instant she looked down at Connal. "Moira has ch.o.r.es too, son, so do not think to connive her into games." Connal grinned up at the woman, catching her wink. "You bend to her, not she to you." Siobhan stood, tipping her head to whisper, "He's to stay away from the English." Kissing her son, Siobhan left the hall, the morning sun shining through the short corridor beckoning her.

Gaelan watched her go, envious of these humble Irish folk, for their princess gave her love and caring freely, her smiles lighting the dim hall. Gaelan recognized that he had to gain control over her somehow and quickly. Although not a drop of blood was shed, he had lost authority by entering without battle. Without the sworn fealty of the princess, Donegal was not in the king's true possession.

And he wondered which of them would sacrifice the most for this sc.r.a.p of land.

The sight of his men littering the ward and yard startled Siobhan, her step faltering. They were fierce in their armor and mail, doing little except watching, prepared to kill at the slightest inclination. Archers lined the parapet, sporting long Welsh bows. Squires cared for knightly accouterment in small groups whilst pages scurried to carry water and meal for mounts, bring food and drink for their masters. We will have our larder stripped in a day, she thought, and how will we survive this winter? The inner ward gates were wide open, which was a regular event for the castle, but the sight of his legions camped in the outer bailey and beyond the curtain wall left her stunned. Last night, in the dark, the army did not look so numerous. His knights moved from archer to soldier, relaying orders, a few leaving the keep, and she could scarcely tell one from another.

Lochlann was a fool to even attempt an attack on his patrols, she thought, and realized how fortunate he was to be taken alive. And released in the same condition. PenDragon's warning that more would come vibrated in her brain and she wondered at the validity of withholding her oath. Mayhaps if she swore oath they would leave Donegal alone? As they had O'Niell's land? Her heart twisted in her chest. She could not. The English did not believe women owned land or were capable of ruling, and if King Henry possessed her word of bond, he would give it to one of his favored lords. Nay, she thought, continuing across the yard, Culhainn at her heels. Her oath was part of her soul and that she never gave lightly.

Silver-clad knights tipped courtly bows once they recognized her and she had to smile. 'Twas not often she dressed as she had last eve, her simple clothing favored for work. She acknowledged the knights, her intent on the garden behind the kitchens, yet before she reached it, several women blocked her path, the most formidable her sister.

"Well?"

"Good morn to you too, sister."

Rhiannon reached out and touched her shoulder.

"Rhi, please." She ducked away, irritated that her sister felt she could delve into her emotions without permission.

Rhiannon's brows shot up. "He did not touch you." The women surrounding them sighed, relieved for her.

Siobhan flushed with embarra.s.sment. Apparently there were no secrets in her house. "Evidently he retains a bit of knightly honor still. Culhainn would have eaten off a limb or two anyway," she said with a quirk of her lips, glancing at the women, her friends. "I thank you for your concern." She gave her a.s.surances that the PenDragon said he would not send them all away and Siobhan would bold him to that. Though she'd no idea how.

"So another is to come and take over this keep in Henry's name?"

"Aye, I believe so."

The women returned to their duties, yet Rhiannon remained, her look suspicious. "He fascinates you, doesn't he?"

"He does not." She brushed past. "He is an unmannerly ox with a pretty face, is all. His fair Raymond is of sweeter temperament."

"Raymond has already bedded a dairy maid, I've heard."

"If she does not come to me with charges, then she was willing." She shrugged. "I do not lend to gossip. And neither should you." She pushed through the gates, closing them after her, her eyes warning her sister to leave her in peace.

She didn't. "What will you do, Siobhan? Surely you cannot keep such a monstrous man at bay?"

"I will go about my day as usual, Rhiannon. We all must."

Rhiannon threw her hands up in frustration. "How can you be so calm?"

"I am far from calm!" Siobhan leaned over the gate, her fingers wrapped in the iron bars. "I fear for our kin every moment, but if they witness it, they will surely do something to bring down his wrath on their heads." Her fingers flexed, her worry showing in her white-knuckled grip. "I swore to them I would accept any price from the Englishman."

"Your bravery is misplaced, Siobhan."

Her brows knitted tighter.

"You will be the last person he would harm."

She was taken aback. "What makes you believe that?" Then her eyes flew wide, her voice a secretive whisper. "Oh, tell me you did not touch his thoughts, Rhi. 'Tis his privacy you invade."

Her features took on her defiance. "He invades our home. We have a right to know what comes. Do you not want to know what I discovered?"

"Nay! Nay," she added more softly. "Gaelan PenDragon, be he mercenary or pauper, deserves to keep his own counsel."

"He bears a dark secret that-"

"Nay!" Siobhan shoved away from the gate and walked the path. When Rhiannon called out, she waved overhead, refusing to hear anything secreted in the man's soul.

For naught could be as heinous as the thoughts she disguised.

She was gone.

Gaelan cursed and swung into the saddle. "You did not think she could be sending a message or meeting a conspirator!"

"I a.s.sumed you had the woman well in hand, sir, after last evening."

Gaelan's features tightened. That even his own men thought he'd brutalized the princess spiked his already elevated anger.

"She has an escort, sir."

"Aye, hers!" Gaelan ordered the portcullis sealed, the postern guarded, and Raymond and five men to join him. In moments they were riding in her direction. The language barrier kept him from discovering her disappearance until now, and he cursed himself for trusting her even the slightest. Did she not know that her son would be hostage if she did not return, that her people would suffer if she brought an army?

He was but a few miles from the keep when he spotted a village, riding hard into the center road and raising his hand. The patrol jangled to a halt and villagers froze, their children scurrying under carts and wagons. He did not bother conveying his point and dismounted, he and his men moving from house to bakery to smithy, searching. He was about to continue on to the next village when he found her. Or rather Driscoll. He stood before a squat thatched hut, his weapons a'ready.

"Step aside."

He didn't. "She is merely tending a wound, English." The Celt crossed his arms over his chest, his spear in one hand, his short sword in the other, yet held so casually, Gaelan decided he meant no threat. "She would never abandon us, not for an instant."

Gaelan scoffed and pushed past. "Siobhan!" He could not tell if it was relief or anger spiriting through him when he saw her, unharmed, kneeling beside a small child, wrapping his thin drawn chest in cloth. The odor of sickness and herbs filled the tiny thatched cottage.

"Sweet Mary mother, PenDragon. Hush. You're scaring them," she said, not stopping in her duties.

"'Tis what I do best."

"One gains more with gentle tones and smiles, Englishman." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Did you not find that upon your arrival?"

Covering the boy with a coa.r.s.e, threadbare blanket, she spoke to the mother, motioning her close. Gaelan stepped farther inside, listening, though he didn't understand her words. He glanced at Raymond and the knight shrugged. After a fashion, he realized she was showing the mother how to tend the wound herself. The woman hugged her, offering her a crust of bread, and Siobhan took it, biting off a piece and bidding her good day. Without meeting his gaze, she brushed past and stepped out, mounting her small horse astride and heading out of the village.

"Siobhan!"

"Aye, mercenary," she said tiredly, reining up, then looking at him.

"You will not leave the castle yard alone."

"I did not. Driscoll has been my protector since before my husband died." She glanced at the Celt, and an exchange Gaelan could not decipher pa.s.sed between them. "And before the English landed, I'd no cause to need an escort." She wheeled the mount around and sped off, Driscoll behind her, smiling.

Gaelan raked his hands through his hair and cursed.

Raymond eyed him. "You were scared for her."

Ridiculous, he thought. "There are outlaws in these woods, DeClare. And she has many allies."

"You think she left to alert them?"

"She is not to be trusted." He moved to his horse, swinging up. "I want regular patrols made in the area. They are to protect these people from attack."

"Would the outlaws attack their own?"

Gaelan made a nasty sound of discontent. "There are brigands and thieves in every country. Who knows? But I do not want any clans rallying, either."

Gaelan caught up with her in moments, though she didn't spare him a glance, her attention on the land. They rode south of the keep, toward the sh.o.r.e, and he admitted he could not be more curious. She dismounted where the land faded to sand, then trotted down to the water to a group of men laboring to pull a net into a boat. They greeted her with high abandon, one old fellow swinging her around as he hugged her. Smiling, she pinched his big nose and they walked to the others. Gaelan remained back, watching, Driscoll at her side, both conversing easily with the fishermen, ignoring the knights and soldiers as if they were naught but a gaggle of seagulls.

Gaelan examined the coast line, its access and defense, noticing the large boulders and the ruins of a stone building half underwater yards from the sh.o.r.e. Impenetrable, he thought, impatient to be gone. "Why do you check the nets?" he said when she returned to her horse. "What know you of fishing?"

Gripping the saddle, she tipped her face to the sun, a little smile on her lovely lips. Gaelan wanted to kiss them daft. "There are many more mouths to feed, PenDragon. We need food and must portion off a goodly amount for the winter." She looked at him, shielding her eyes. "Unless, of course, you intend to be gone, say ... on the morrow?"

Cheeky female, he thought. "My hunters will provide enough game."

She scoffed. "You think we have bounty galore, sir?"

"Aye, 'tis a cold, barren place this," he said with a look at the sh.o.r.e.

"And England is not?"

Scowling softly, he met her gaze. "I have not seen much of it."