Free L'eau Clair Chronicles 04 - Lady of the Keep by Sharon Schulze

asked.
    “Nay, unless you count that Lady Moira has invited us to join
everyone in the hall this evening,” Connor said, removing his helm and running
his hand impatiently through his hair. Dear God, but he was tired! Not that
he’d any time to sleep. “I’d planned to start exploring, see if we can discover
the truth of what Sir Robert told us.”
    Will nodded. “Aye, milord, ′tis important. But do you
believe we could see anything at night that we haven’t noticed—so far—in
daylight? And the men are tired, milord, and growing as dispirited as everyone
else here, so Cedric tells me.”
    “I know. And you’re right, ′tis too dark now to start
looking.” Connor frowned. “Especially when we don’t know what we’re looking
for.” Resigning himself to wait until the morrow, he clapped Will on the back.
“We’ve dragged the men far and wide the last few days. They deserve a bit of
fun. We’ll double the guard on the headland portion of the wall, and halve the
time for each watch. Everyone not on duty may join us in the hall tonight.”
Seeing Cedric’s wide smile, he warned, “Be certain they stay sober enough to
remain competent. I’ll not have the garrison reduced to a pack of drunkards,
lest we have need of them.”
    “Aye, milord,” Cedric agreed. “Thank you!” Bowing briefly, he
hurried away to spread the news.
    “Will you see to mounting the guard?” Connor asked Will.
    “Of course, milord.”
    Connor nodded his thanks. “I’ll see you in the hall then.”
    After Will left, Connor returned to the man-at-arms. “Tell your
mistress that my men and I would be pleased to join her, as soon as we’ve had a
chance to wash away the dust of travel.”
    After the man left, Connor sighed wearily and crossed the bailey
to the stairs leading into the keep.
    As if he didn’t have enough to bewilder his tired brain, now he
must find the strength within him to spend the evening in Lady Moira’s presence
… without revealing to her or anyone else just how tempting he found her.

Chapter Seven

    Moira spent the days since she spoke with Lord Connor on the
headland cloistered in her solar with her maids, spinning and sewing. She had
time aplenty to berate herself for telling him anything of what had brought
them to this coil, and to try—without success—to convince herself that he held
the power to carry them through their troubles to a happy resolution.
    There was no way out of
this without more pain, more sorrow. When had life held aught else?
    But never had she felt more powerless than she did at this
moment.
    She paused at the head of the stairs and listened to the hum of
noise rising from the hall. ′Twas louder than usual—not surprising, given
that their numbers had nearly doubled with the addition of the men Lord Connor
brought—but the sounds seemed more cheerful, as well. The reinforcements had
given back to her people the sense of hope they’d lacked since Lord Brien’s death.
Tonight they’d have the opportunity to celebrate that fact.
    They’d kept hope alive throughout the first few months of Lord
Brien’s illness, for hadn’t he vanquished a much younger foe? ′Twas
surely a sign that God smiled upon them, or so Father Thomas told them.
    Though Moira had done all she could to save her husband, and had
prayed as long and solemnly as anyone, deep within her heart she couldn’t
stifle her fear that all their prayers and hope would not prevail. Guilt nagged
at her—guilt that her sins were so much worse than anyone knew.
    She had not dared confess the depth of them even to Father
Thomas, for what if he should turn against her? She knew ′twas God’s
forgiveness she needed, not the priest’s, but she feared to lose the gentle
cleric’s support when she—when they all—needed it most.
    ′Twas sheer cowardice on her part, she knew. Though it was
yet another sin to stain her soul, her pride was all she had left to sustain
her.
    But every word of comfort offered to her