All around the meadow, the men pulled their hats from their heads and clutched them in work-worn hands. The women bowed, their lips moving as the bishop intoned a prayer. Even the children had grown quiet, sensing the somber mood of the adults.
When the bishop took his seat, Sir Cecil leaned across the table and said loudly, “You seem to be the only man here with any sense, Bishop O’Mara. Mayhap you can convince your nephews to beat their swords into plowshares.”
Kieran shot him an angry look. “Perhaps, if you could convince your Queen to leave our people alone, Sir Cecil, they would be willing to lay down their weapons and concentrate on a life of peace.”
Sir Cecil gave a chilling smile and turned to Lady Katherine, who sat silently beside him. “I may have the very means of assuring peace for Killamara.”
“I should very much like to hear it,” the bishop said.
“Then we shall speak on the morrow. But first there is something I must attend to tonight.” He caught Lady Katherine’s hand in his. “You are cold, my lady.” Taking his cloak from his shoulders, he wrapped it around her and said solicitously, “You need someone to take care of you, my dear. You have been too long neglected.”
From his position at the head of the table, Kieran watched and listened. And though his hands tightened around the stem of his tankard, he showed no emotion as his mother was led away on the arm of Sir Cecil Kettering.
“You are overwrought, my dear,” Sir Cecil said as he climbed the stairs beside Lady Katherine.
“It was the mention of Fiona,” she said softly. “I cannot bear to think that I might never see her again.”
“You need someone to care for you,” Sir Cecil said, opening the door to her chambers.
He glanced around, pleased to note that the servants were still at the feast. “Your fire has burned down. I will see to it.”
He crossed the room and tossed a log on the hot coals. Within moments flame licked along the bark and ignited into a roaring fire.
He turned. She was still standing where he had left her in the doorway. “Come, my lady. Warm yourself.” Taking her by the arm he led her across the room and helped her into a chair by the fire.
From a table he lifted a decanter and filled two goblets with ale. Handing one to her he said, “Drink, little Katy.” He cocked his head to one side and regarded her. “Do you remember how I used to call you that when we were young? My little Katy.”
“Aye. The name no longer suits me.” She sipped the ale and gave him a wan smile.
“To me, you are still as young, as lovely, as you were when we were in the court of Henry. You have not changed.” He knelt and took her hand in his. “Nor have my feelings for you changed. I still want to look after you. I want to see that you live out your life in luxury. Not—” he waved his hand to indicate the rolling hills outside the balcony “—in this sad land so filled with bitterness and hatred for our kind.”
“Our kind, Cecil?” She lifted her head. “I do not understand.”
“Can you not see it, my dear? Did you not hear the rumble of war from those who call themselves your friends?”
“Their anger is not directed against me, Cecil. It is against a country that will not let them be free.”
“Aye. England. Your country, little Katy. And mine.”
“Nay. This is my country now. These are my people.”
“Do you really believe that? Do you think, if they were to go to war against England, that they would forget you are English?”
“Aye. I do.”
“And you would remain here in this land?”
“Aye,” she murmured tiredly. “It is my land now.”
Setting down the goblet, she made a move to stand. He put a hand on her arm to stop her.
“If you wish to save Killamara and the lives of your sons, you need me.”
“Need you? Aye, I will need the friendship of my many friends.”
“I am not talking about friendship, my dear. It will take much more than friendship to save the lives of your sons.”
“What are you saying?”
He gave her a smug smile. It was going just as he had planned. “I am the ambassador to the Queen, my dear. I am privy to much…secret information.”
She clutched his sleeve. “What have you heard, Cecil? Is there to be a war?”
He shrugged. “It would seem that the whispers and rumors have reached Elizabeth. She does not take kindly to threats from Irish warriors. Already ships cross the channel. Ships filled with soldiers loyal to Elizabeth. They should reach Ireland’s shore within days. And it will take only scant days after that to march on Killamara.”
“God in heaven.” Her eyes went wide with fear. “I have no fear for myself. But my sons…”
“Would be under my protection. As would all of Killamara. No English soldier could ever lay a hand on these lands or people. If you were my wife, no harm would come to you or yours.”
Lady Katherine stared at him, her heart beating wildly. “What are you saying, Cecil?”
He chose his words carefully. “There was a time, long ago, when you and I planned a future together. Was that such an unappealing thought, my dear?”
She avoided his eyes. “Of course not. But I could not help falling in love with Sean.”
His eyes narrowed, but he forced a smile to his lips. “Sean is gone. But I can save everything of his that you have come to love.”
“By marrying me?”
“The Queen grants right of domain to loyal subjects. And I am one of her most loyal subjects. As my wife, you would be able to retain title to this land, as well as everything in your family estate in England. And, more importantly, I could order the soldiers from this land, for it would become English soil. That would provide a safe haven for your people and, of course, your sons.”
“You would do all this? Why, Cecil?”
“Because I am pledged to your safety.”
“Do you give me your word on this, Cecil?”
His smile grew. It was so easy. “I have the ear of Elizabeth. She is a most generous monarch. I have but to ask, and it is mine.” He pressed her fingers to his lips. “You need but say the word and we will pledge our troth. And the peace and safety you have always desired will be yours.”
Lady Katherine caught her breath and stared into his eyes. She did not love him. God knew she never could. But if this was the price that God required to grant her sons safety and her poor people peace, she would gladly pay it.
He caught her hand between both of his. “Will you marry me, Katherine, and save the lives of all you hold dear?”
Lady Katherine had a fleeting image of a bold, handsome warrior who had made her burn with a passion that even now could make her blush. Though her eyes were clear, she felt the tears against her throat as she swallowed them back.
And then she thought of the child, Bridget, so like her beloved Fiona. Bridget had the right to grow and live in peace.
She lifted her head proudly and said in a strong, clear voice, “I will.”
Sir Cecil kissed her lips. It took all her willpower to keep from drawing away. And as he held her and kissed her, she felt as if her heart had just shattered into a million pieces.
Chapter Fifteen
“M y lady.”
Lady Katherine felt the tugging on her sleeve and was instantly awake. Her servant was standing over her, holding a candle aloft.
“What is it? What has happened?”
“It is one of the villagers, my lady. His daughter is burning with fever. His wife sent him to the castle to seek your help.”
“Give him bread and ale while I dress.” She was already out of bed and slipping into a gown, which was being held by a second servant.
Within minutes she was dressed and bundled into a warm cloak. When she paused at the foot of the stairs she was surprised to find Hugh Cleary waiting for her.
“Hugh.” She gave him a warm smile. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
??
?I heard the arrival of a horse and the sound of the castle door being opened. I inquired of a servant and was told that you were going to the village to give aid to a feverish child.”
“Aye. But what has that to do with you?”
“I would accompany you, my lady. You should not be out at this hour alone.”
“The child’s father is here. He will see to my safety.”
“Perhaps. But humor me, my lady. I would feel better if you allowed me to accompany you.”
She caught his arm and smiled into his face. “I would be most pleased to have your company, Hugh.”
She turned away too soon to see the pleasure that her words brought him.
In the dawn chill, old Padraig held the reins while they mounted their horses. Within minutes they were racing across the hills toward the lights of the village.
The crofter’s cottage, at the far end of a lane, was small and neat, with stone walls and a thatched roof. Inside a peat fire burned in the fireplace, casting a soft, smoky glow over the single room.
Lady Katherine removed her cloak and gloves and stared around.
The child lay on a pallet in a corner of the room. Her dark eyes seemed far too big for her small, pale face. Tendrils of dark hair lay damply against her neck.
Lady Katherine knelt and touched a hand to the girl’s forehead. Her touch confirmed what she already knew; the child was burning with fever. A sheen of moisture glistened on her ominously pale skin.
With a gentle touch Lady Katherine probed the girl’s throat and behind her ears for swelling. Finding none, she pressed her ear to the girl’s chest and listened for several seconds to the sounds of labored breathing. She could hear the rattle of fluid in the child’s lungs.
Turning toward the crofter she said, “I will need cool water to bathe her.”
Instantly the man lifted a bucket from a peg and hurried from the cottage. When he returned, Lady Katherine dipped a clean cloth into the water and began to sponge the girl’s body.
To the girl’s mother she said softly, “You must bathe her like this several times a day, to keep the fever down. When you have finished, make certain that the linens around her are dry and warm.”
“Aye, my lady. But we have few linens to spare.”
“I will provide you with all you need. Give her hot tea or even a few drops of whiskey,” Lady Katherine instructed. “And as much water as she can drink.”
“She has been ill before, my lady,” the child’s father said with a worried frown. “But never like this.”
“Aye. She is very sick,” Lady Katherine affirmed. Squeezing their hands, she murmured reassuringly, “I will return this day with Mistress Peake’s fine broth. And I will bring warm bed linens, as well.”
Before leaving the cottage, she returned to the child’s side for one last glimpse. When she walked to the door, there were tears in her eyes.
“Thank you, my lady,” the father called.
“God bless you, my lady,” his wife added.
“You must be vigilant,” she said firmly. “See that she does not become chilled.”
Outside the cottage, Hugh Cleary helped Lady Katherine into the saddle, and they rode through the darkened village in silence.
Seeing the tears that clung to her lashes, he said softly, “She will recover, my lady. You did all you could.”
“Nay. I can do so little.” She gave a deep sigh. “If only I had paid more attention to the Queen’s physician at court. But I was just a maiden then, so young and foolish, and so certain that his help would always be there if it was needed. Little did I dream that I would lose my heart to this poor land, and feel so useless at times like this.” Her voice trembled. “Oh, Hugh, I have seen so many of them die…”
Her voice trailed off as she choked back a sob.
Without hesitation Hugh slid from the saddle and pulled her into his big, strong arms. Her hood fell back, allowing her unbound hair to spill down her back.
She made a valiant struggle to hold back the tears. But the warm comfort of his embrace was her undoing. With great choking sobs she cried as though her heart were breaking.
“I want so badly to help them.” Her words were issued between sobs.
“You do help, Katherine. Just by being here and caring.”
“Nay. ’Tis not enough. I cannot save their young lives.”
“Shh. You are not God. You can only do so much.”
“But it is never enough.”
When at last her tears ended, Hugh pressed his lips to the top of her head and murmured gently, “She is young and strong, Katherine. She can fight this fever.”
“Aye.” With a square of finest lace she wiped her eyes, but almost instantly fresh tears began. “I am such a fool,” she whispered. “But the child reminded me of Fiona. She was a frail child, much like Colin. And she fought many fevers in her youth.”
“Aye. I recall,” Hugh said softly.
She glanced at him. “How could I forget? You watched them all grow. You were always there when we needed you. And all of us came to depend upon your quiet strength. Oh, Hugh.” She clutched his shoulders and stared into his eyes. “I have a terrible fear that I will never see Fiona again. And if that should be so, I could not…”
“Hush, Katherine.” With great tenderness he touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “I have already spoken with Kieran. Two of my most trusted men have gone to England to continue the search.”
Her eyes widened. “When did they leave? Why did you not tell me? What…?”
He chuckled low and deep in his throat. Again he silenced her. “I understand your heartache, and I share it, Katherine. But Kieran and I thought it best if no one knew.”
“Aye. I agree. But at least let me tell Sir Cecil. He can arrange—”
“Nay.” He cut her off sharply. Too sharply. Then, to soften his outburst, he said, “No one must know. This is to be our secret, Katherine. Do you understand?”
At her silence he said, “Too many people knew of the journey planned by Kieran and Colin. Their plans went awry. This time, no one must know. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
The breeze caught and lifted her hair. Without thinking he caught a handful and stared as it sifted through his fingers.
His voice, when at last he spoke, was gruff with emotion. “I would do anything to ease your pain, Katherine. It breaks my heart to see you so unhappy.”
“You have always been such a dear friend, Hugh. To me and my family.”
His voice was as hushed as the breeze that whispered through the trees. “I would be more than a friend if you would let me.”
The words hung between them for long, silent moments.
Lady Katherine looked up at him with wonder. “I never dreamed.” She touched a hand to his cheek. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Hugh. Why have you waited until now to speak of this?”
“I had no right. Out of respect for Sean, I have kept my feelings to myself, Katherine. But since his death, I have been watching over you, doing all in my power to keep you safe.”
“I have been aware of your many kindnesses. And I am grateful, dear Hugh.”
“I love you, Katherine. I always have,” he said, tracing a rough finger from her eyebrow to her cheek, to the curve of her lips. “I did not know how to tell you.”
“God in heaven. And I have for so long—” she looked away, struggling for the words “—cared for you as well.” His eyes lit as she went on, “I think perhaps it is your gentle nature, and the way you have always preferred to stand aside and let others reap all the praise while you quietly go about doing what is needed.” Her tears spilled down her cheeks and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. Her voice when she spoke was a cry of pain. “If only I had known sooner how you feel. Perhaps everything would have been different.”
“I do not understand.” He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his dark eyes. “What is wrong with my telling you now how I feel? If you share these feeli
ngs, there must be some way we can find happiness, Katherine.”
“Happiness.” She turned away and buried her face in her hands.
With great tenderness he turned her into his arms and lifted her face to him. “Tell me what troubles you, my sweet Katherine. Whatever it is, we will deal with it together.”
“Together.” Her eyes brimmed. “We can never be together now, Hugh.” She glanced at the sun shimmering on the horizon. “Already Sir Cecil is dressing for his audience with the bishop.” She swallowed the tears that threatened. She would shed no more tears over the pain that wrapped itself around her heart. She had made her bargain with the devil. She would live with it, no matter what the cost.
“What does Sir Cecil’s audience with the bishop have to do with us?”
“It has already been arranged. Cecil will seek a blessing from the bishop—” she swallowed and took a deep breath “—upon our marriage.”
“You and Cecil Kettering?” For long moments Hugh Cleary stared at her as if he could not believe his ears. Pain was etched on his handsome face, clouding his dark eyes.
His hands dropped to his sides. He took a step back from her.
“Forgive my boldness, my lady. I had no right to speak as I did. You will forget the declarations of an old fool?”
“We are both old fools,” she whispered as she looked away, too overcome to say more.
Stiffly offering his hand, he helped her into the saddle, then mounted and led the way toward the castle. They rode the entire distance in silence, each lost in his own bleak, private hell.
Bishop Seamus O’Mara was furious. Despite the beauty of the morning and the grandeur of the Mass over which he had just presided, he could not shake his anger.
Last night he had granted an audience with his nephew and Cara O’Byrne. He had given careful thought to what he would say to both of them when they stood abjectly before him. He knew of the girl’s hasty departure from the abbey, and suspected that Colin’s imprisonment in England had been the cause of it. He had hoped that Colin would persuade the lass to return to the holy life from which she had fled. Colin had a good heart. And he had always been deeply religious. The bishop hastily pieced together in his mind the reason Colin had been delaying this meeting. It was the girl. Perhaps Colin saw the salvation of the girl’s soul as his mission before returning to the monastery. A noble goal, but not one that should impede Colin’s return to the monastery. The bishop intended to lecture both of them on the need for more discipline before giving his blessing on their return to the cloistered life they had chosen.