Chapter Twenty-One #2
“You seemed to enjoy serving the Marshal,” Tristan said. “But I’ve been around you for some time, and I know you have female companions. We all know it. Is that why you did not want her here? Because she reminded you that you had a wife in Ireland?”
Carr shook his head. “She reminded me of my wife, but not in the way you think,” he said. “I came to Ireland to get away from Brigid.”
“Why?”
“Because Andromeda is not my child, Tristan.”
Tristan looked at him in shock. That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting, so it hit him rather hard. “Oh, God…” he muttered, suddenly understanding why Carr should be so bitter toward her. “And… and you know this for certain?”
Carr ducked when another projectile flew overhead, waiting until it cleared the wall and didn’t hit anyone before continuing.
“Because my wife did not wish to marry me,” he said.
“We were forced together by two clans who wanted the bloodlines merged. The hope was that Brigid would bear a son to continue the cause. But she loved another. She was pregnant when I married her.”
Tristan was caught up in the story. “And you knew this before you married her?”
Carr nodded. “I did,” he said. “But, like me, she had little choice.”
“Then who is her father?”
“My brother, Muir.”
Tristan had to make a conscious effort to keep his jaw from dropping. “He and your wife were in love?”
Carr nodded. “My brother was already married, you see, so my father insisted that I wed Brigid,” he said.
“When the opportunity presented itself to come to England with the Marshal, I took it. My wife loved my brother, her daughter was being raised by English lords, and there was nothing left for me. So I came to England to forget. I nearly had until Andromeda showed up at Wrexham.”
Tristan felt genuine pity for the man. “It makes sense now,” he said.
“Your behavior makes complete sense. Truthfully, I had no idea who you were anymore. You turned into someone I did not recognize with your vicious behavior toward Andie, which made little sense because you’d spoken of her before and you seemed…
proud. That is what was so odd about this.
I always thought you were proud of her.”
Carr shrugged. “I am proud of her bloodlines,” he said. “But they are not mine. I’ve spent nineteen years pretending my niece is really my daughter, Pat. That is a hard way to live.”
Tristan could only imagine the depth of truth to that statement. “Andie must not know,” he said. “She has never said anything about it.”
Carr shook his head. “She does not know,” he said. “I doubt it would do any good to tell her. Let her think what she will. Let her hate me, because it is better than her knowing the truth.”
Just as he said that, a hook landed on the top of the crenellation directly above them.
Tristan and Carr leapt up to dislodge it, sending it crashing back the way it had come.
Tristan dared to take a peek over the end, only to see that the grappling hook, the man who had tossed it, and the archer behind him had tumbled back down to the ground.
Tristan slapped Carr on the shoulder in a gesture of victory, but more hooks were flying over the wall further down the line, so he had to pull himself away from the conversation with Carr and make his way back down the wall, urging the men to throw the anchors back where they came from.
Off to his right, he could see Kieran coming out of one of the towers with a body over his enormous shoulders.
Tristan could see, even at a distance, that Alexander had used considerable skill in gutting the Irishman.
Even the soldiers drew back at the sight.
Alexander, in fact, was right behind Kieran, and when there was a break in the flying arrows, he helped Kieran throw the body over the side.
When Alexander and Kieran started yelling at the horrified Welsh below, the soldiers on the wall picked up the cry, and a booming sound of terror lifted to the sky.
It was a cry of madness, momentarily stunning the Welsh.
The English clapped each other in encouragement, feeling as if they’d somehow accomplished something by tossing that sad body over the side and frightening their opponent.
But the Welsh came back with a vengeance.
Tristan happened to be looking at Carr when the man was hit by two bolts in quick succession. One hit him in the shoulder and one in the chest, and he toppled backward, flipping over the side of the wall and crashing down about twenty feet below.
Tristan went on the run.
He had to run past Kieran and Alexander in order to get to the stairs that led to the bailey.
Alexander, seeing that Tristan was running in a panic, ordered Kieran to stay on the wall as he followed Tristan down the stairs and across the bailey, where Carr was lying on his side.
The man was unconscious but alive, so between Tristan and Alexander, they picked him up and carried him into the great hall, which was slowly filling up with the wounded.
There was a male servant at the hall entrance, and he directed Tristan to set Carr down near the smoking hearth.
Carr was starting to come around.
“Easy, lad,” Tristan said. “You’re in the great hall. We’ll find help for you.”
Carr was only half-conscious, struggling to open his eyes, as Tristan looked to the hovering male servant.
“Who do you have to tend these men?” he asked.
“Me. I am tending them,” a female voice answered.
Tristan heard the words before he saw his wife, but the moment he laid eyes on her, he felt a surge of shock run through him. He bolted to his feet just as Andromeda walked up to him, wiping her hands on her apron, which was bloodied.
His eyes bulged.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, trying not to shout. “You’re supposed to be in the keep, safely locked up.”
Andromeda didn’t rise to his anger. She had known this moment would inevitably come, so she was prepared. She simply smiled at him, disarming him as she knew it would, and stood on her toes to kiss him.
“Is that the greeting I am given after not having seen you in several days?” she said, her pale eyes glimmering warmly at him. “I thought it would have been kinder than that.”
Tristan didn’t know what to do. He wanted to spank her, hug her, or yell at her—or possibly all three—but he ended up putting his arms around her and pulling her against him.
After having not touched her for ten days, it was something of a spiritual experience.
In fact, tears stung his eyes as he wallowed in the feel of her, the smell of her.
For a brief moment, his control slipped and he allowed himself to feel his exhaustion and his fear.
Exhaustion in the situation, fear for his wife.
But that moment was over quickly.
“You are not supposed to be here,” he said, releasing her and standing back. “You promised to stay to the keep.”
She nodded patiently. “That was before the hall started filling up with wounded,” she said, looking at the bodies lying around. “I had to come. The men needed help.”
“But you—”
She cut him off. “Pat, you have no surgeon,” she said, more firmly. “The servants were down here doing what they could, but these men needed care and attention. That is what I have been doing—stitching holes, cleaning wounds, and giving comfort where I can.”
His jaw twitched, indicative of his level of emotion. “But I want you in the keep.”
She shook her head. “And I must help your men,” she said.
“It is my duty. This is war, and we must all be brave in times like this. Would you really send me back to the keep like a precious princess, protected from the ills of the world and as fragile as a lamb? Or do you want a wife who stands alongside you and helps you when it matters the most? Make your choice now so I know how you intend to diminish my dedication.”
He stared at her, preparing for a verbal lashing, but he simply couldn’t do it. She was brave and strong, and he honestly couldn’t berate her for it. In fact, he probably would have been disappointed had she been any less. With a heavy—if not ironic—sigh, he shook his head in defeat.
“Where are the men I sent to guard you?” he asked. “Did you at least bring them? Or did you lock them in a room somewhere while you are down here, cavorting about?”
Andromeda fought off a grin. “They are all around the hall, helping as well,” she said, pointing to Dolan on the far end of the room. “Do not be so smug next time you ask me a question like that. I know you want me to be safe, so naturally, I brought them with me. And I do not cavort.”
Tristan was very nearly sneering at her by the time she was finished.
That confident, bold, and sometimes bossy woman that he loved with all his heart.
He had absolutely nothing to say to her after that, because she had an answer for everything, and his frustration knew no limits.
Behind her, he caught sight of Alexander, who was trying very hard not to laugh.
When their eyes met, Alexander threw up his hands in surrender.
“Do not ask me anything about the control of women,” he said. “You know whom I married. My wife was a spy before I married her, and a more determined, headstrong woman you will never meet. Therefore, I cannot help you, Pat. You are going to have to figure this out on your own.”
Andromeda smiled at Alexander. “I am looking forward to meeting your wife someday,” she said. “I think that we could be friends.”
Alexander chuckled. “Lady de Royans, I know it,” he said. “Christin will love you. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to the wall. Are you coming, Pat?”