Chapter Forty-Seven
My Ruler
Neave, August 24, 1565, Ulster, Ireland
The men fell silentupon my indecorous appearance and remained so for an uncomfortably long pause. But after the initial shock abated, I was left in peace to feast until bursting. For his part, Aedan hadn’t uttered a word after we entered the great hall together, nor shot me a glance. He sat beside me on the dais, mute and still, paying no mind to his men’s rueful banter.
It was when they exhausted their jests that he pushed away his plate and trained a steady gaze on the brehon. “I rely on your good judgment, Senan.”
My insides clenched at the dour expression on the man’s timeworn face.
“Aedan.” The brehon heaved a sigh. “D’you know what notions plagued me a mere hour heretofore?” He gave a slow shake of his silver head. “I’ll not trouble you with the most discomfiting of them, but suffice it to say, an urgent tanist election rose to the forefront of my mind.”
Aedan put down his cup and straightened.
“The messenger said you’d been struck down.” Senan peered at Aedan’s blood-stained chainmail, unblinking. “Are the two of you but foolish youths in need of scolding? Must I remind you of your station, Aedan? And you—” Jaw clenched, he turned to me. “Do us all a kindness and expound on your designs concerning your unheralded appearance here, Lady O’Donnell.”
Heart pounding a loud drumbeat in my chest, I looked at Aedan in the silence that fell. He stared ahead, pale as a sheet.
I met the brehon’s cool gaze. “I fled Tyrconnell beneath the cover of darkness, imperiling my life and risking more—” My voice emerged shrill and breathless, “to escape ceaseless mistreatment by Tiernan O’Donnell and to seek divorce from him.”
Senan crossed his arms and peered heavenward, his mouth a thin line. “Given Lord O’Donnell’s infamous grievances against your person, what mistreatment did he perpetrate on you that a husband in his position ought’ve forborne?”
I wiped my sweaty palms on Sorcha’s russet and glanced round the table. A few men studied their plates and cups. Others eyed the stairs, the entrance, the windows. Kian—jaw clenched—caught a chunk of mutton on the tip of his scian, let it fall, pierced it again.
“It is time for Lord Ronan’s riding lesson.” Aedan motioned to Siobhan, ignoring our son’s immediate and emphatic protests.
I clasped my trembling hands together as Ronan disappeared from sight.
“I may have wed him due to my youth and foolishness, but I’ll not go back,” I bit out, cold all over. “Tiernan O’Donnell had kept me prisoner under guard!”
The brehon pursed his lips, his expression blank. “Was he uncommonly cruel? Did he cause you physical harm that left marks?”
“I...” The words got wedged in my parched throat. I reached for a cup, but my hand shook too violently to grab it.
The brehon rubbed at his temples. “Have you witnesses that would substantiate your claims, m’lady?”
His question landed like a crack of a whip.
My vision darkened in the corners of my eyes. “It is Tyrconnell we speak of.” I gulped against a sudden rising hysteria. “D’you fancy the O’Donnell clan would testify against their chieftain on my behalf —?”
“Enough.” Aedan brought his fist down on the table with a whack that made me jump. “If you fail to satisfy Lady Neave’s petition, Senan, then I shall do so myself. You may remove the tanist election from what ill-suited place it occupies in your mind. I am still your king.” Gaze trained on me, he stood. “As for the designs of the mother of my children, those are for my ears alone.”
The brehon took a long draught from his cup. “Indulge an old man before the two of you take your shameful leave.” He ignored Aedan’s flared nostrils and hard stare. “You see, Aedan, one other notion tormented me as I paced here, awaiting your beautiful, young corpse.” He steepled his weathered hands before him on the table. “Love has no place in politics, nor in warfare. A heinous bloodbath in the Pale. A wanton fratricide in Tyrconnell. Irreparable enmity with the English queen. If only you heeded my counsel all those years back and took Lady Neave in concubinage, we wouldn’t be confronted with our lamentable predicament. Indeed, she would abide your conjugal alliances and await you without complaint—and would give you your beloved children, withal—while you ruled Ulster with a firm hand and a cool head.”
I flinched from a sudden sharp pain in my knuckles. Unclasped my hands.
“Senan—” The unveiled threat in Aedan’s rumbling voice would have made another man cower, but the brehon only shrugged.
“Save your wrath for your foes—plentiful as they are, as of late. I will grant this divorce if only to clear myself of abetting a new adultery.” He tossed me a dark, heavy glance. “But Aedan, I beg you to take my unaltered counsel to heart this time.”
Eyes shooting daggers, Aedan thrust out his hand to me. “Come, Lady Neave.”
I didn’t take his hand. The brehon’s words echoed dully in my throbbing head as I waited, waited, waited for the Prince of Ulster to challenge such pronouncements. To give voice to the fury that ought’ve followed. To assert his kingly wishes before his men, the servants, and me.
“Lady Neave.” He took my hand, his own cold and hard.
I didn’t stir. I stood as if rooted to the floor, the great hall swaying about. He’d not challenge the brehon. All his suffering and mine, all the butchery and strife—all for naught. I’d never be his wife again. Only a concubine, so he could wed again and again for political advantage. While I waited and abided.
But it wouldn’t do for everyone to see my hot tears, threatening to spill forth, so I steeled myself and followed him to the staircase.
I nearly bumped into Betha, who stood at the top, fresh linen cloth draped over her arm.
“Your bath is ready for you, m’lady,” she mumbled, gaze on the floor.
I peered at Aedan. Would he heed the brehon’s plea without so much as an objection and send me off to be bathed and scented for him?
His face revealed nothing as he brushed a dirty lock from my face with a stiff hand. “I’ll be awaiting you in my bedchamber, Lady Neave.”
I didn’t feel the warmth of the bath water as I stepped into the tub. Didn’t revel in the long-forgotten, delicate scent of the rose petals. My chamber. Not ours. Lady Neave. Not my Neave. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall as Betha busied herself with the wreckage that was my hair.
“Don’t weep m’lady,” she soothed, untangling my strands with gentle fingers. “He is a good man, and he loves you, he does. And is it not so much more than what you had in Tyrconnell?”
The evening fell when I approached the lord’s bedchamber, heart dull and heavy. How daft to lament my impending station of a concubine. A woman wed to another—what did that make me? The O’Neal’s unscrupulous lover or his disreputable whore?
Numb, I opened the door to find him before the hearth in naught but his gold torque and the leather cord strung with my Claddagh ring. A mockery of what had been. My eyes burned and itched. Would he give it to me as a cruel keepsake?
I pushed these thoughts away and lifted my chin.
There was a wide bandage wrapped round his ribcage, a smaller one circling his right arm, and a multitude of fresh bruises along his torso. Grievous injuries caused by his youth and foolishness in not heeding the brehon’s wise counsel. Indeed, we wouldn’t be warring with O’Donnell, and may have even come to an agreement with the English, if not for his obstinacy and my recklessness.
He stood when I entered: clear brow, square shoulders, erect back. Yet nothing moved in his face, save for the faint lines round his eyes that tightened as he motioned for me to remove my shift.
I bit the inside of my lip. For what other purpose would the lord await a woman in his chamber who wasn’t his wife?
He winced and grasped the back of the chair, and a dreadful qualm rose in the pit of my stomach, eclipsing my disgrace. No fire lit his eyes, no heartbeat caught his breath, no vigor excited his loins.
“Are you hurt very badly, my... Aedan?” I dug my fingernails into my palms. Could I still call him so?
He shook his head, and our eyes locked.
The thoughts clouding his gaze were as plain as if they were my own. I’ve thirsted so long, I grew desolate, my Neave.
I hugged myself, hands tightening into fists. Dark and pulsating, anguish stood between us like a third person. Outside, the moon peeked from behind a cloud—a bright jewel in the gloomy, boundless expanse. Breath held, I unclenched my fists, tugged at my laces, and pulled my shift over my head.
The silk slipped from my fingers.
His eyes, wide and unblinking, had fixed upon my small swell. “By God...” he choked out. “By God, my Neave.”
The sound that escaped my lips was half agonized wail, half bitter scoff. Instead of bemoaning concubinage, I ought’ve despaired of banishment to Castle McConway. And then, to the nunnery to join my sister.
But I pushed my fears down and went to the father of all my children. Wordless, I took his hand, cold and trembling, and placed it on my belly.
Pale as a sheet, he drew back his shoulders, struggling not to jerk it away.
My tears threatened to burst forth, but I squeezed his large fingers with all my might. “Aedan, listen to me—”
“How many trials would the Lord have me stand?” His voice was low and thick, gaze dark and unseeing. “Or does He, too, think me more than a man!”
I pressed his hand into my flesh, keeping it captive. “I wasn’t shamed to lie in the abandoned hunter’s hut with your seed in my womb—” My words erupted in a single frantic breath, “and neither am I shamed now that I carry your son.”
His eyes bored into mine, wild and eager, then guarded and wretched.
I held his gaze, reaching for his soul with all my might. “Your son, an O’Neal from head to foot. It’s me, my Aedan. I’ve never deceived you before, and I’m not about to start now.”
He didn’t stir. He only stood, watching me, silent and impassive, his hand limp and listless on my belly.
My stomach squeezed to the size of a pea at his terrible silence. Forfeited grace. Broken trust. Unattainable redemption. A concubine? I’d dealt our love an irreparable blow.
I dropped my gaze. My limbs hung heavy as lead. My tears wedged in the center of my chest, sharp as ice shards. The floor beckoned, dark and cold. I’d take my leave, set off for Castle McConway on the morrow, bear his bastard child behind the walls of a nunnery. Live out my days as I deserved.
“I... It is...” The words caught in my throat. I raised my head, unseeing.
He swallowed and shook himself. “A son...” It was more a sigh than a word.
“Aedan Og, a chroí—” Another heartbeat, and my knees would buckle. “If you wish it so.”
He pulled me close. “If I wish it so?” His voice was a choked gasp. Suddenly, he laughed—a strangled, helpless sound. “Pinch me, a mhuirnín. I want to know you’re truly here.”
The ice shards melted. My every corner flooded with warmth. I’d never seen him so artless and unguarded. Not More-Than-A-Man, but a man—flawed, shaken, defeated. And beautiful with all his perfect imperfections. And mine, no matter what.
I touched my fingertip to the thin silver scar beneath his lip, staring into his glittering ponds of steel blue. How I yearned for this moment. How I prayed for it.
“You’d better pinch me, too, my Aedan.” I nearly laughed myself, as I whispered the only name I ever wished to utter.
He said nothing as he lifted and carried me to his bed. He laid me on top of him and covered us both with a quilt. Heedless of his injuries, he crushed me into him with all his strength—chest to chest, limb to limb—as if to fuse us forever, so naught could sunder us again in this world. His breath quickened as he parted my legs by drawing apart his own beneath and pushed me into him harder yet.
“My love, my Neave, my soul...” he whispered into my hair, his breath searing my skin, his hard body trembling with long-overdue shock.
His arousal found my entrance in this deadlocked grip. “I cannot live without you... I cannot even breathe.” He dug his fingers into my hips, sheathed his sword to the hilt.
A sob escaped from his chest—or was it from mine?
“A dainty lass...with thin waist and wee hands...yet you alone are my ruler,” he gasped, falling apart before me, around me, inside me; his silent tears and unbridled climax shattering me into pieces, fusing me together again. “Swear to me, my ruler...you’ll never leave me again as long as you live.”
“My Aedan, my Aedan, my Aedan...” A hymn, a prayer, and incantation, ardent and unmasked.
Just him and me. No lord and no lady. No king and no concubine. Our stations mattered nothing, for here we dwelled outside the laws written by men. Here, we were justified by our hope, and by our love, and by our unfailing faith. Here we were one, always and forever.
“I swear,” I whispered into his chest, breathed into his soul, bursting anew into a rupture of gasps and tears. “I swear it, my love.” I took him into me past the confines of my body, past the bedchamber, past the sky and the moon. “My Aedan, my ruler, my heart.”
Still joined, we lay motionless a long while after.
A moonbeam ran through us like a thread as he rolled over on his side, taking me with him, careful not to break our bond. His gaze locked on mine, he tore the cord from around his neck and slid the Claddagh ring onto my finger, then wound the cord tight about our wrists.
“With this ring I thee wed,” he said against my lips, “with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods, I thee endow—to love, comfort, honor, and keep you in sickness and in health ’til death us depart—” He pulled back a fraction at my frenzied wail, his eyes two bright, shining stars. “And beyond, as God is my witness.”
***
The next morning, Iawoke warm in his arms, his body rigid with the advent of the new day. He stirred and opened his eyes. We peered at each other for a beat, then his eyes crinkled at the corners with something familiar at last—a faint blue twinkle.
“Was it Lady Maura who invented your escape? I couldn’t quite draw it out of her, my Neave.”
I blinked, taken aback by his wry grin and my sudden awareness of Maura’s absence at yesterday’s supper.
“She helped me find it, my Aedan. Where is she, by the by?”
He traced my jaw with the back of his hand. “Lady Maura is no longer wed to Fillan. She’s with her clan, awaiting to take possession of her land and cattle—my reward for her service.” His breath skimmed my ear. “I do burn to learn the...particulars of her visit. She did say the two of you had shared a chamber.”
I pulled away, wordless, heat rising to my cheeks.
“Ah,” he said.
I batted at him. “What is it you insinuate, my Aedan?”
He pursed his lips.
I felt my skin turn the color of raw beets. “Aedan!”
He nodded, an odd catch in his voice. “I’d gathered as much.”
I bolted upright as he threw his head back and laughed. “Come, my Neave, it’s but a jest.”
“A jest, is it?” I narrowed my eyes. “Seems to me you’ve earned chastisement for such jests as these.” The words escaped before I’d quite formed them.
He lifted a brow, forcing down an unmistakable bright twinkle that melted all the pieces of my heart and fused them back together again. “Have I, m’lady?”
I’d never been good at tying knots, but I’d managed to tether his wrists to the bed posts. I hesitated but for a spell before scooting down to give his pressing need the faintest of my attentions—more breath than caress. I’d had a skillful tutor.
“Am I to pay for the jest or for not heeding your warning, a mhuirnín?” he choked out. “Or mayhap for both?”
“You’re to pay, a chroí.” I returned to my task. “So, hush now.”
Smug and unaccountably thrilled, I advanced and retreated as he lay still, taking his chastisement, his ragged breath the only giveaway.
Suddenly, he was gone from underneath me. The unraveled silk cord flashed before my eyes, then his hands were on me, propelling me face forward onto the sheepskins.
He bent to my ear, pinning me to the bed with his hand flat on the small of my back. “You ought to learn to tie better knots if you mean to mete out chastisement to someone twice your size, a rún.”
“You ought to teach me then,” I whispered as he lifted my hips.
Before I could blink, I was on my back, his dexterous fingers bounding my wrists and tethering them to the bed posts.
“I do hope you paid heed.” He thrust himself into me so hard, I screamed. “For I mean to put your knowledge to the test, my Neave.”
Then, there was no him nor me—only him and me in a head-spinning reel of smoldering blasts that filled our bedchamber to the ceiling, then burst through to the heavens above. There, they flickered and burned, danced and sang, until every trace of another man and another woman had been erased. Until his misstep and my betrayal had faded into the past without a trace.