Free Wild Roses by Miriam Minger Page A

least as they were approached by a grim-faced knight with reddish
hair, who was nearly as tall but mayhap a few years younger than Duncan, that
he wasn't squeezing the breath from her like moments before. She could tell he
wasn't pleased at the news, his expression grown forbidding indeed. She
shivered, glad again for Ronan's sake that Duncan had accepted her ruse as his
reply came low and ominous.
    "They will pay for such waste; we've only to
capture them. Take twenty men, Gerard, that's all I can spare. If this woman's
clan attacks Longford Castle before I know enough to return her home—"
    "Know enough?"
    Confusion in the handsome knight's hazel eyes, Maire
held her breath as Duncan nodded and glanced at her.
    "All I've gleaned thus far is her Christian
name—Rose. She remembers little else thanks to the injury she suffered . . .
and thanks to Adele. Have you seen anything yet of my sister or her
retainers?"
    Gerard gave a derisive snort. "Still abed, I'd
warrant. I saw Faustis after we spoke earlier. Poor man's still numb over Lady Adele's
knights draining thirteen casks of wine. But one of your sister's maidservants
did come looking for me—sent to ask if I might join her for luncheon."
    "Watch her, Gerard; don't forget—you've already
been warned. Adele devours men as ravenously as a glutton his meat. Your fair
bride-to-be would not be well pleased."
    "God's breath, man, you know I'd do nothing to
grieve her. My heart is Melicent's—and all else of me. It's only Irish rebels I
live to hunt down, damn their kind to hell."
    The two men had been conversing so easily that Maire
could sense they'd long known each other, yet she was struck by how harsh
Gerard's voice had suddenly grown. She heard Duncan sigh heavily.
    "I'll join you when I can." Duncan met her
eyes but Maire looked away, realizing with a start that her hand was splayed
upon his chest. Her face flaring hot, she balled her fingers against her waist
as he added, "Just remember, Gerard, hang no one without me."
    The knight's only answer a darkening expression as
Duncan carried her past the man, Maire felt suddenly ill and more grateful than
before that she had been wise enough to keep her true identity to herself.
    Eternally grateful, too, that Flanna was coming to help
her tonight. Maire's only thought was to protect Ronan from Duncan. He didn't
stop until he had reached another spiral staircase leading up a second tower,
but instead of ascending he went to a nearby door, rapping only once before
stepping inside.
    "Clement!"

     

     

 
    Chapter 8

     
    Maire had to blink. The large room she and Duncan
entered was dark and dusty, the overpowering yet pleasant smell of fresh and
drying herbs serving somewhat to settle her stomach. Basil, camomile, sweet
fennel, mint, and so many others hung from the rafters, while she could see in
the flickering light of a single oil lamp that crocks and colorful glass
vessels of every shape and size filled trestle tables shoved against the walls.
    "Clement, are you here?"
    "I am, Baron, but a moment, please. Just one
moment . . ."
    The calm voice had come from an adjoining room, but
Maire was distracted as Duncan set her down gently, his arm remaining firmly
around her waist as if he thought she might fall.
    In truth she was no stranger to being carried; before
she'd regained the use of her legs either one of her brothers or a clansman had
taken her wherever she needed to go about the stronghold, or helped her to
stand or sit. Yet that had been so commonplace, while with Duncan . . . Warmed
in spite of herself by his protectiveness, she decided
that was all the more reason to step slightly away.
    "Truly, Lord FitzWilliam, I can stand well
enough—oh!"
    A cat's pained yowl filled the room, Maire almost
toppling backward as the startled feline jumped onto a table. Suddenly Maire
found herself once more enveloped in Duncan's strong arms, and oddly enough he
was chuckling, which caught her as much by surprise as the cat,