His arm clamped about the girl, and his knife pressed against her throat. "Do not scream, wench, or the baby is dead. Do ye understand me?" He rubbed the blade of his weapon threateningly over Wenda's neck.

"A-a-aye," she said, and her voice was shaking, her knees dissolving with fear beneath her. "Wh-wwh-what do y-ye w-w-want?"

"My man is in the underbrush, and he's a bow aimed at yer charge, so do not think to run when I release ye. Walk over to the baby, and wrap her up well. Then yer to come with me. Do you understand? Not a word, wench, or ye'll both be dead!"

Wenda nodded, too terrified now to even speak, and Cavan slowly releasing his grip on her, shoved her toward the spot where Valentina St. Michael lay dozing the warm summer's afternoon away. Cavan watched as the nursemaid wrapped her charge, and lifting her up carried her over to him. He had been correct in his a.s.sessment of the wench. She was not particularly intelligent, and she was used to obeying authority. This was a girl who would come with him without question for fear of both her life, and the child's for she was unquestioningly loyal to her mistress.

Lifting the blanket he looked down on Conn and Aidan's daughter, and for the briefest moment his hard gaze softened. The little one reminded him strongly of Bevin. Reaching out he gently stroked the rosy cheek, and he was amazed at its softness. This was no enemy. The little wench could be very useful in contracting a match with the son of an important family. Yes, better to keep her for she was really an a.s.set.

It had been two days since he had overheard young Harry in the village inn. Conn had gone yesterday to Hereford. Aidan had ridden across this field this morning in the direction of Queen's Malvern. It would be nightiall before Wenda and her charge were found to be missing, and the first search the following day would concentrate in the area of Pearroc Royal. It would be several days before his note would be delivered to Aidan St. Michael, telling her where she might find her little daughter. It would be then she would send for Conn, but she would follow after him immediately.

His captive in tow Cavan FitzGerald headed south over the Malvern Hills to Cardiff. For some hours the child was quiet as they rode, but then she began to wail. For some minutes Cavan attempted to ignore the infant's howls, but finally he turned on Wenda, and snarled, "What the h.e.l.l is the matter with the bairn?"

"Sh-she's hungry, sir."

"Then give her yer t.i.t, and shut her up," he snapped.

"I c-can t, sir!

Cavan FitzGerald drew their mounts to a stop, and glaring at Wenda demanded, "Why not?"

"I'm not a wet nurse, sir! M-m'lady would allow n-no one b-but herself to f-feed the b-baby."

"Jesu!" The oath exploded from his mouth with such force that Wenda cringed, and the horses shied nervously. This was something that he had never even considered. He had a.s.sumed that a fine lady like Aidan would not nurse her own children. He had a.s.sumed that Wenda was the baby's wet nurse. What the h.e.l.l good to him was the brat if she was dead before they reached Cardiff? He needed to think, and up ahead was a rather ramshackle-looking inn, but night was coming, and it would do.

Valentina St. Michael was now howling at the top of her little lungs. She was wet, and she was hungry, and she was chilled. Where was the warm, sweet-smelling breast with the milk that soothed her? She missed the soft voice that spoke so gently to her, and sang soft songs to her as she nursed. Something was not right in her world, and she knew it which caused her to cry all the louder.

The inn in which they sought shelter was surprisingly clean though it was plain and simple. There were some very good smells emanating from the regions of the kitchen in the rear of the building, and the innkeeper welcomed them with a smile which turned to a look of distress as he heard Valentina's cries.

"Here now, what's the matter with the little la.s.s?" he said.

"Me wife died in childbirth," said Cavan quickly, "and I'm on my way to Cardiff for I've bought a shop there, and now here's the wet nurse gone dry on me. I pray me bairn won't die. She's all I've left of my Kate."

"Polly!" the innkeeper bawled at the top of his voice, and a large, fat woman hurried from the kitchen.

"What is it then, Harry?"

The innkeeper explained, and a smile wreathed the woman's face as he came to the quick end of the tale, and said, "Would ye he willing to help 'im, wife?"

"And me with milk enough for six? Here, girl, give me the bairn." The innkeeper's wife reached out, and took the screaming Valentina, and without another word opened her blouse right where she stood to heft out an enormous breast. Smelling the milk Valentina homed in on the nipple, ravenous, and not caring now that it wasn't her mother. "If yer staying the night," said Polly, "I'll keep the bairn with me, and see she's fed until ye leave. She's a hungry little wench, and maybe yer wet nurse just needs a day's rest. Yer too thin, girl," she said to Wenda. "No wonder yer having trouble with yer milk."

In the morning before they left the innkeeper's wife presented them with a stone bottle. "I've filled it with me milk, and a relief it is to have me t.i.ts empty for the first time in months. I had twins eight months past, but we lost one of the lads two weeks ago, and his mate couldn't take everything I was producing. I've always been a good producer." She turned to Cavan. "Ye'll have to sacrifice one of yer riding gloves, sir. If ye'll let me I'll poke a few holes in it with me needle. When the little la.s.s is hungry just fill the finger with the milk, and use it like a t.i.t. She'll last till ye get to Cardiff, and find another wet nurse."

Cavan thanked her, and pressed a piece of silver into Polly's hand to reinforce his grat.i.tude. Polly's milk wouldn't last forever, but perhaps in Cardiff he could find a wet nurse who would come to Ireland with him, and he would send Wenda back to Pearroc Royal with his message to Aidan.

Cavan had been correct in his a.s.sessment of Wenda's intellect. She was not particularly bright, but she was deeply loyal to the St. Michael family. Her family had belonged to their family for several generations. It did not please her to leave her little mistress, but she was a practical country girl, and she knew that Valentina could not survive without food. She considered herself lucky to get off with her life. So clamping her legs tightly around the fat pony she had ridden from Pearroc Royal she began her return journey bearing with her a written message she was incapable of reading for Lady Aidan. The wicked man who had taken them had not harmed them, and he promised her he would not hurt little Mistress Valentina. He had even allowed her to choose the wet nurse for Wenda knew a diseased woman could pa.s.s on her weakness to the baby. Luck had been with her, and she had found a country girl who had come to the city to escape the shame of her stillborn b.a.s.t.a.r.d. The girl was clean, and healthy, and grateful for the opportunity offered even if it meant getting onto a sailing vessel, and sailing to Ireland.

Wenda drove her pony fiercely covering the distance between Cardiff and Pearroc Royal in two and a half days' time. As she suspected everyone was in an uproar over their disappearance although Lady Aidan had not yet sent for her husband. Her return was hailed with joy until it was discovered that Valentina was not with her. She would speak to no one until she had been ushered into her mistress' presence where she poured out her tale, ending it by handing Aidan the message that Cavan had entrusted her with.

Aidan had listened white-faced to the nursemaid's tale. She was in an agony of fear for her child, but she thanked G.o.d that Wenda's loyalty had preserved Valentina as far as Cardiff. s.n.a.t.c.hing the folded parchment from the girl she opened it up and read: If ye wish yer daughter returned unharmed to ye, come to yer grandfather's home in Ireland. We have some unfinished business between us.

he signature was as she had expected it would be, had feared it would be. Cavan FitzGerald! She had instinctively known that he would come back to haunt her, but suddenly the fear she had felt all these months was gone, and in its place was a deep anger. What had she ever done to Cavan FitzGerald that he should seek to hurt her so? Why would he not leave her alone? Well he was going to leave her alone! she decided furiously. She was going to Ireland, and she was going to retrieve her child, and she was going to put that d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d upstart in his place, and if her mealymouthed old grandfather, Rogan FitzGerald, didn't help her, she'd put him in his place too, Rogan FitzGerald had abandoned her mother when he had sent her to England to marry Payton St. Michael. Aidan had never met him in her entire life, and his sudden interest in her had rung false to both her and to Conn. Remembering some of the things her mother had said of Rogan FitzGerald Aidan realized with deep certainty that her grandfather was probably involved in whatever plot her cousin Cavan was attempting to hatch, using her child as bait. Well, they were going to regret it! Aidan thought to herself.

"Beal!" she shouted, and the butler came running.

"M'lady?"

"Send for young Beal. He is to carry a message to my husband this very afternoon. Then fetch me yer younger son, Harry." Aidan bent over her desk even as the butler hurried from the room to carry out her orders. She dipped her quill into ink and wrote her message to Conn upon the smooth parchment.

Cavan FitzGerald has stolen Valentina, and gone to my grandfather's home in Ireland. I am leaving this afternoon for Cardiff where I will take pa.s.sage on one of yer sister's ships. Follow me as quickly as ye possibly can. We both need ye.

Yer loving wife, Aidan St. Michael, Lady Bliss "Come in," she called to the knock upon the library door, and both younger Beals entered into the room, their caps in their hands. "Peter," she addressed the elder of the two who was known about the estate as young Beal since he bore his father's Christian name. "I want ye to take this message to his lordship at the Hereford Horse Fair with all possible speed. Don't stop until ye reach him. Take with ye a dozen armed men, and tell his lordship not to bother coming home, but to go directly to Cardiff to embark." She folded the parchment, dripped hot sealing wax upon it, and pressing her personal cipher into it handed the message to young Beal. "G.o.dspeed," she said, and taking it from her young Beal turned and departed.

"Harry," she continued speaking to the youngest of the Beal sons, "yer coming with me to Ireland. Pick two other men to come with us. Good fighters, but clever as well. Do ye understand me?"

"Aye, m'lady," said Harry Beal with a grin.

"Then go," she ordered him. "We leave within the hour."

"Not without me, ye don't," snapped Cluny as he entered the library. "Ye ain't going nowheres unless I come with ye. Master Conn would never forgive me, and besides I know Ireland, and ye don't. Yer safe enough aboard one of Lady de Marisco's ships for every seaman in her employ, is O'Malley loyal, but once we land in Ireland, 'tis a very different matter, m'lady. Each d.a.m.ned mile of the land is controlled by some chieftain or another, and not one of them really friendly to the others. Yer grandfather's holding is inland, and I'm not certain where we're to land so ye'd best be prepared, and I'm the man to prepare ye."

Aidan didn't argue. She knew that Cluny was right, and she was grateful for his help. "Can ye be ready in an hour?" she asked, and he grinned c.o.c.kily at her.

"I'm ready now, m'lady!" he said.

Mag cried and fussed when Aidan told her of her plans.

"This is madness, my chick! Wait for his lordship," she begged her mistress.

"Nay, Mag. Every minute counts now. My baby needs me! Don't fret so. His lordship will no doubt be in Cardiff ahead of me, and we'll embark together."

Mag sniffed, but Aidan's words rea.s.sured her. "What shall I pack for ye?" she worried. "How can ye carry trunks if yer riding? Is the baggage cart to go with ye?"

"Nay," Aidan replied. "I shall ride astride as Skye does, and wear one of those special skirts she gave me for doing so. We can make faster time if I do. Pack my saddlebag with an extra skirt, two shirts, and some stockings, the heavy kind I use when I wear boots. I'll need my hairbrush, and a warm cape with a hood. 'Twill do me quite nicely, dearest Mag."

"Ye can't go to visit yer grandsire in such clothing," protested Mag. "What will the old man think of ye."

" 'Tis not a friendly visit, Mag," said Aidan. "I believe that my grandfather may be involved in this matter."

"That wouldn't surprise me none," remarked Mag. "The old man was always a bit of a robber, even in his younger days, and well I remember it. Yer mother was fortunate to escape when she did, and I certainly never regretted coming with her. Ye be careful, Mistress Aidan. Rogan FitzGer-ald's an old devil, and he always was."

Aidan rode out across the fields for Queen's Malvern, her four men at her back. Reaching her sister-in-law's home she hurried to find Skye and Adam who were dining early that day. Seeing her dressed so, Skye immediately knew that Aidan was off to seek her daughter.

"Tell me," she said without any other preamble.

Aidan recounted Wenda's story, finishing with, "I've sent young Beal and twelve armed men off to Hereford to fetch Conn. I've told him to go directly to Cardiff. I'll not wait for him if he is not there when I get there. I want to get to Ireland as quickly as possible. What if those d.a.m.ned FitzGeralds mean my baby harm?"

"That isn't wise, Aidan," Adam put in. "The FitzGeralds aren't going to hurt Valentina. They're using her as bait to lure ye to them for some purpose or another. Wait for Conn to go with ye."

"I wouldn't wait for Christ himself!" Aidan declared vehemently. "My baby needs me, Adam!"

Adam threw up his hands in frustration, and looked to Skye.

"I understand how ye feel, Aidan," Skye told her, "but Adam is right. Wait for Conn."

"In all likelihood he'll be there ahead of me," Aidan said. "Will ye send one of yer pigeons to Cardiff to inform yer factor of our needs, and our arrival?"

"Aye," said Skye, "I will."

"Then I'm off," replied Aidan, and standing she Mew them both a kiss, and strode purposefully from the room.

"Do ye think she'll wait?" Adam queried his wife.

"Aye. She's afraid of Cavan FitzGerald. She'll not want to face him alone," came the reply.

But Aidan wasn't afraid of her cousin any longer. A deep burning anger had replaced her equally deep fear, and with every mile she traveled that anger grew stronger, her fear weaker. She was no longer the sheltered creature she had been two years ago when Cavan had so cruelly sold her into slavery. She had seen more of the world now than even he had. She had learned by virtue of her s.e.x that an inner strength was necessary for human survival. She now had that strength, and she felt confident, and unbeatable. With or without Conn she was going to Ireland to retrieve their daughter, and she would do it!

She was tired of Cavan FitzGerald, and the threat that he posed to her life. She had lived in fear of him since her return. That fear was, she suspected now, at the root of her inability to enjoy her marital relations with her beloved husband. What more could he do to her than he had already done? He had sold her into slavery, stolen her child, and made it impossible for her to enjoy her husband's loving! Enough was enough!

Aidan pushed both herself and her men to the limit. She knew now that in order to destroy the hold that Cavan FitzGerald had over her she had to beard him herself. She must face him alone, and in order for her to do that she had to reach Cardiff, and embark for Ireland before Conn got there. It was then that she understood something that Skye had recently said to her. She had openly admired her beautiful sister-in-law's obvious control over her own life, and Skye had said: "Until I became my own person instead of merely the extension of some man, I had no control over myself, or my life."

"But how did ye gain that control?" Aidan asked her.

"By facing up to my fears honestly," said Skye.

She hadn't really understood Skye at the time, but now she did, and she was facing up to the one great fear she had. That Cavan FitzGerald would once again get her in his power. Well her odious cousin might believe by stealing Valentina that that was exactly what he was doing, and perhaps with the old Aidan it might have been so, but not now. This time she was going to face up to him, and she was going to fight him with every ounce of her strength, and she was going to win. Oh, yes! She was most certainly going to win!

Chapter 19.

Aidan St. Michael's first glimpse of her mother's homeland was a gray and misty one.

"A soft day," said Captain Bran Kelly of the light rain that was falling. He said it with a smile.

They had sailed from Cardiff out into the Bristol Channel and past Lundy Island, once the stronghold of the de Marisco family. The weather had held as they crossed the short sea distance between the two countries rounding the southern end of Ireland to sail effortlessly across first Bantry Bay and then Dingle Bay. There had been little sunshine. The days had been gray, the nights foggy, but the seas had been smooth and there had been just enough wind to move them at a goodly pace. Sailing into the mouth of the Shannon Aidan admired the velvety green of the land. It was very beautiful.

"The wind is freshening now," said Bran Kelly as he saw them and the horses that they had carried with them safely embarked upon a deserted beach. "I'll have a quick trip to Innisfana, m'lady, and I'll be back with a good strong contingent of O'Malley retainers to back ye up, never fear."

"Conn will appreciate the reinforcements when he arrives," said Aidan. "From what I can gather my grandfather is land rich, but lacking in the hard coin it takes to keep trained men-at-arms. I don't know what the FitzGeralds want with me, but I don't believe that they mean me any harm."

"I think yer probably right," agreed the ship's captain. "Yer grandfather's family have a reputation for knavery, but not murder." He flushed realizing how rude his blunt speech must have sounded to Aidan who was such a gentle soul. "Yer pardon, m'lady."

Aidan laughed. " 'Tis no insult, Bran Kelly, to tell me what my own mother told me. And Mag, too, I might add. My mother was happy to escape her family, and marry my father. If she continued to correspond with them it was out of a sense of filial duty. I owe the FitzGeralds no such duty. I've come to get my daughter back, that's all."

"Be careful," he warned her. " 'Tis said that St. Patrick drove the snakes from Ireland, but there are still a few at Ballycoille, m'lady."

"I've Cluny, and Harry Beal, and two of the lads to come with me, and protect me. We can hold that old devil who calls himself my loving grandfather at bay for a few days until Conn arrives. Ye fret too much, Bran Kelly. I'll take no chances, I promise ye."

Watching her ride off he was of a mind to worry despite her rea.s.surances. She had always, according to Lady de Marisco, been so sheltered; yet she had seemed levelheaded and competent to him. He shook his head. He believed her when she said she could hold her own for a few days. Still the FitzGeralds of Ballycoille were a rough lot.

For Aidan, however, there was no doubt in her mind that she would accomplish her purpose in coming to Ireland. She pushed her mount, and her men hard to cover the distance between the Shannon River, and her grandfather's holding as quickly as possible. She was anxious to see her baby again. She hoped that Valentina was all right, but she quieted any fears she had on that account by rea.s.suring herself that it was she the FitzGeralds wanted. Her child had only been a means to their end, and they would not harm her.

She was not surprised at the shabbiness of her grandfather's tower house when she first saw it. Her mother had spoken often of the great contrast between her childhood home in Ireland where she had run barefoot most of her life, and her beautiful and quickly beloved home, Pearroc Royal in England. The tower was an ancient one, and even at a distance it was quite obviously in need of repairs. Built of a harsh-looking dark gray stone it sat upon a hill which gave it an uncluttered view of the entire unforested countryside surrounding it. It would be a difficult place to approach undetected, or to escape from without being easily seen. It gave Aidan some pause for thought, but there was no going back now.

There were several outbuildings about the tower, and the entire group of structures was surrounded by a low stone wall. The heavy oak gates to the enclosure opened now, and a rider came forth, his dark cape fluttering wildly in the wind. She instantly recognized him, and her heart hardened even as her mouth curved up into a brief smile of amus.e.m.e.nt as Cavan FitzGerald halloed across the distance separating them, and waved as if she'd been invited to a family celebration.

"Little Aidan," he said as he pulled even with her. "Yer as lovely as ever, cousin!" He smiled broadly at her.

"As lovely as when ye last laid eyes upon me, ye black-hearted b.a.s.t.a.r.d?" she demanded in a level voice, her gray eyes as flat as lead.

"Now, sweet cousin, let us let bygones be bygones," he began, but she cut him short.

"Let bygones be bygones? Jesu, yer not only mad, Cavan, yer stupid as well." Then in a move he had not at all antic.i.p.ated she kicked her horse to shove past him setting him so badly off balance that he almost fell from his mount.

He was barely saved from that embarra.s.sment by two of the men who accompanied her who slipped up on either side of him, preventing the accident as one of them reached out to lift him back into his saddle, and the other steadied his horse. As he attempted to move forward to catch up with her, however, one of them, a beefy, bearded ruffian, leaned over and relieved him of his reins thus preventing him from guiding his own horse.

The other whom he immediately recognized as Lord Bliss' personal servant smiled and said, "There now, Master FitzGerald, ye best mind yer manners, and let yer betters precede ye."

Cavan seethed with impotent rage. The little b.a.s.t.a.r.d would pay for that remark as soon as he took care of his master! Aidan, his better? A woman his better? She'd soon know who her better was. He'd quickly tame the English b.i.t.c.h, and have her running at his heels like a well-trained beast. He licked his lips in antic.i.p.ation of the easy victory.

A small smile on her lips at her first little triumph over her cousin, Aidan rode boldly into her grandfather's keep. She was pleased to see through the open doors of the large stable building that it was well kept for the rest of the outbuildings were rather dilapidated. There were pigs rooting about in the courtyard in the garbage pile, and a number of barefoot, dirty-looking children in shapeless smocks tumbling with each other, and the large number of dogs who seemed to be vying avidly with the pigs for the bones and sc.r.a.ps of the garbage pile. A lump came to her throat. Had her mother once been as these children? Could her beautiful mother have sprung from the filth of this appalling pig wallow?

She slid from her mount giving orders as she did so. "Mark, ye and Jim stay with the horses. See they're properly stabled, cooled down, and then fed and watered. Check their hooves for any stones. 'Twas such a rocky trail up here. Cluny, ye and Harry Beal come with me." She turned and glared at Cavan who was just managing to get off his horse. "Well, cousin, will ye lead the way, or shall I find it myself?"

Somewhat off balance by her tone, and her manner, Cavan obeyed her sharp command, and hurried into the tower house. With a wink at her men Aidan followed him up the stairs, and into the hall where seated at the high board at the opposite end of the hall from its door was a tall, white-haired old man with bright blue eyes and harsh features. Aidan strode boldly the length of the room, and stopping directly in front of the old man said, her voice cold, and quite angry to his ear.

"Ye'll be Rogan FitzGerald, my grandsire. Where is my infant daughter, and how dare ye allow this b.a.s.t.a.r.d," her hand made a sweeping gesture in Cavan's direction, "to endanger Valentina in whatever madcap scheme he has up his sleeve now!"

There was a long silence as Rogan FitzGerald contemplated this virago who ,had just arrived into their midst. Then peering down his nose at her he said with some humor, "And welcome to Ballycoille, granddaughter of mine." Then his eyes narrowed, and he said in a sharper, more menacing tone, "I like neither yer tone nor yer stance, granddaughter. Remember that I am master here at Ballycoille. Ye'll respect me, la.s.s, for yer no different in my sight than any other woman, and I'll give ye a beating such as ye've never had if ye can't remember yer manners when speaking with me."

"Where is my child?" Aidan repeated. Her heart hammered wildly within her chest as she realized she was actually bearding her grandfather and his entire household with only two men at her side. Should she have waited in Cardiff for Conn? Still she would not let the old man know she was fearful, and so she glared at him boldly.

Rogan FitzGerald looked to one of his servants, a rather slatternly-looking woman, and snapped, "Fetch the brat and her wet nurse!"

There was an even larger silence as they waited, Aidan standing firmly before him, her legs apart, her rather outlandish garb rather attractive to his eye, and certainly practical for riding astride, he thought. She was, however, no simple and sweet-natured woman who would be easily led as Cavan had suggested. Still, she was his granddaughter, and she would eventually see reason, he was certain. There was no warmth in her eyes right now, however, and the two men who accompanied her both looked as if they meant business. Family retainers obviously. Loyal and tough. He nodded to himself absently. His nephew would have no easy time of it, but together they could make her obey them he was certain. She'd not be an easy mare to force to the bit, but he was sure they would prevail. Finally the wet nurse, and the child entered the hall, and Aidan showed the first touch of softness Rogan could see in her, and he smiled to himself. The bairn was her weakness as it would be with any loving mother. Seeing the girl carefully coming down the staircase into the hall Aidan ran to the foot, and held out her arms for the child. Valentina was, she could easily see, clean, well-fed, and content. As the wet nurse placed the baby in her mother's arms Aidan said to the girl, "What is yer name?"

"I'm Nan, the smith's daughter, m'lady. Lord Cavan hired me in Cardiff to care for the little miss. I've done me best."

"I can see ye have," said Aidan kindly. The girl was almost too thin but for her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, she had several ugly bruises on her arms, and she looked absolutely terrified, her light blue eyes darting about her as if she were waiting to dodge the next blow. "I'll want ye to return to Pearroc Royal with me, Nan. When Valentina was stolen from her father and me by my great-uncle's b.a.s.t.a.r.d, who ye should know is but plain Master Cavan and no lord, I had to bind my own b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and now my milk is gone. Will ye come with me back to England? Ye'll be well treated, I promise ye."

The light of hope sprang into the girl's eyes, and she nodded vigorously. "Thank ye, m'lady! Thank ye!"

"Will ye swear yer loyalty to me alone, Nan? Will ye swear on the name of Jesus himself?"