Chapter Eight
Raine held the cloak through the rest of the night, the scent reminding him of Carice.
The guard had forced her to leave, but the warmth of her body lingered.
He didn’t understand why she got under his skin, but he couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her.
And he knew, all too well, what might happen if they traveled alone together.
He reminded himself that no harm would come to her when he brought her to Rory ó Connor. She would be protected, as the High King’s bride. And Rory would never have the chance to lay a hand upon her—Raine would make certain of that.
Morning light filtered through the bottom of the wooden door, and he heard footsteps approaching. The door swung open, and the sudden light was blinding. Two men came inside the tower, but he had not seen these guards before.
“King Patrick wishes to speak to you again,” the taller man said. “Come with us.” They bound his hands with rope before unfastening the manacles and chains. Raine bent down to pick up the fallen cloak, and before they could protest, he said, “This belongs to Lady Carice. She will need it.”
One of them took the cloak, and they led him back to the donjon. The ground was blanketed with snow, and it coated the top of the walls. He walked up the stone stairs leading inside, hiding his annoyance at his hands being bound.
Once he entered the Great Chamber, the scent of food nearly brought him to his knees.
What he wouldn’t give for a piece of roasted meat or warm bread.
His mouth watered, but he held back his hunger when he was brought to the king.
Patrick sat upon a carved wooden chair with his wife Isabel beside him.
This time, Lady Carice was seated at the queen’s side.
When Carice caught sight of him, she smiled.
Though her face was wan from lack of sleep, there was a brightness in her blue eyes.
Despite all that she’d suffered, her beauty tightened the breath within him.
It was a dangerous game he was about to offer, one formed of lies and betrayal.
If she agreed, she would despise him when it was over.
He was a cold-hearted bastard who didn’t deserve to walk upon the same ground. The kiss he’d taken had been born of the desire he’d struggled to hold back. This woman was a trusting innocent, and he, a man whose life was clouded by a ruined past.
And yet, Carice’s smile took apart all his plans to stay away from her.
“I understand Lady Carice went to speak with you during the night,” King Patrick began, using the Norman language. “Why?”
“She asked me to escort her to the west, away from the High King’s men.” He knew not what she had said to Patrick, so it was best to keep to the truth.
“One of our men can bring her there,” the king responded. “She would be safer with Trahern or Connor.”
“It is her choice to make.” Raine knew the man had every right to be suspicious. Oui, Lady Carice would be far safer with the MacEgans. But he faced the king and let the man draw what conclusions he would.
“You never answered my questions last eve. Are you prepared to speak now?” The king leaned in, resting his forearms upon the table.
Raine thought a moment, trying to decide how to begin. He turned to Queen Isabel and addressed her first. “I understand that your family is Norman, my lady.”
She glanced at her husband and nodded. “I was, yes. But my loyalties lie with my husband.” Her voice held a warning, as if he should tread carefully.
Raine acknowledged her with a nod. “Then you understand what a Norman soldier must do. And what happens to him if orders are disobeyed.” He kept his posture stiff, never taking his eyes from hers. “Or what happens to his family.”
The king and queen sobered as they understood his meaning. Carice’s smile faded, and she asked, “What happened to your family, Raine?”
He met her gaze but merely shook his head.
This was not the place to speak of such matters.
Instead, he directed his attention to the queen.
“I have no choice but to obey my orders. And if I betray my commander by revealing them, it is not only my life at risk.” He kept all emotions from his voice, revealing nothing.
“As I told you before, I was granted a few days to bury the holy men who saved my life from the fire.”
The king seemed uninterested by that and pressed again, “The Normans are gathering at Tara. I want to know why.” His voice was edged with steel, making it clear he expected answers.
Raine hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It is no secret that King Henry wants command of Erin. But he does not wish to use force to seize it. An attack upon Rory’s men is not his intent.” Those were the only truths he could give.
“I sent several of my men to accompany Killian MacDubh and Lady Taryn of Ossoria on their journey to speak with the High King,” Patrick said. “Are they in danger?”
“Not from the Normans,” he admitted. And this was true. Sir Darren’s interest lay in the death of the High King and nothing else.
“Why did you refuse to speak to us last eve?” the king queried. “You could have avoided an uncomfortable night.”
“Because I needed time to make my own decisions. My orders are to return to the soldiers. If I do not, the penalty is death. And my family will suffer for it.” He eyed Carice. “But I am willing to take a greater risk.”
“And what is that?”
This time, he looked at Carice and offered, “I have agreed to grant Lady Carice’s request to escort her to the west before I return to my duties.”
“It is not necessary,” the king began to argue, but Carice raised a hand and intervened.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I would prefer to go with Raine. It means that none of your men would be held responsible for my disappearance.”
The queen’s look grew discerning, her lips tight with worry, though she said nothing.
“If I take her alone, it is easier to remain hidden,” Raine said. “But in return, I would ask that you let others believe that I am still your captive.”
“Then your commander would not hold you responsible for your absence.” Patrick exchanged a glance at Isabel, but the queen’s attention was upon Carice.
“Is this what you want, Lady Carice?” The woman’s face had grown serious, almost as if she wanted the answer to be no.
“I trust Raine,” Carice said, braving a slight smile. “He will not harm me.”
At her words, the burden of lies grew heavier. He intended to use Carice, delivering her into the hands of her greatest enemy. She would never forgive him for this. But perhaps when the Ard-Righ was dead, he could bring her to the sanctuary she wanted, as a means of atonement.
She will never trust you again, his conscience asserted. She would rather die than travel at the side of a murderer.
He vaguely heard the voices of the king and queen mingled with Carice’s as they spoke of the journey. But when he looked upon her beautiful face, he remembered the stricken faces of his sisters.
“Raine, don’t let them take us,” Elise had begged. Her eyes were shining with tears as the soldiers had seized her and Nicole. “Please.”
He’d lowered his weapon, staring into the eyes of the Norman commander. It was Sir Darren de Carleigh, and there was no sympathy in his expression.
Raine had forced himself to step over his parents’ bodies. “My sisters are innocent of this,” he told Sir Darren. “Let them go.”
“Your father was a traitor, and the king has given his orders for all of you to be taken and questioned.”
King Henry had already left, only moments ago. Undoubtedly, he would expect to see them all executed, innocent or not. A chill washed over Raine at the thought of his sisters being violated and killed.
“They are women,” he said slowly. “Elise is only four and ten. What harm could they do to anyone?”
“My orders are—”
“Your orders be damned.” Raine moved forward, using his height to intimidate the commander. “Take me in their place.”
“All of you will be prisoners of the king,” Darren repeated. But a flicker of distaste came over him. He lifted a hand. “But there is something you can do to protect them.”
The words were a salvation he’d never expected. “Name it.”
“You are a man of strength, a better fighter than I’ve ever seen. Become one of our soldiers, under my command. So long as you fight for us and give us your loyalty, your sisters will live. And no one will touch them.”
At the time, he hadn’t understood why Sir Darren had wanted a traitor’s son to join Henry’s forces. Now, he knew what they’d wanted—a man they could manipulate, someone to fulfill the tasks they could not. A murderer.
From the moment he’d set foot on Ireland’s shores near Wexford, over two years ago, he had obeyed Sir Darren’s orders blindly. He’d fought with the Norman forces, attacking the Irish throughout Leinster and proving that he would follow their commands without question.
He sobered at the memory, for it was the first time he had encountered the MacEgans.
King Patrick did not remember him, for Raine had been only one of many soldiers fighting that day.
He’d watched Patrick and his brother Bevan kill men Raine had fought alongside, their swords striking down their enemy.
He knew the strength and courage of the MacEgans.
And he’d witnessed their fury and anguish when their eldest brother Liam had died that day.
The Irish had long memories and would not forget what was done. Despite the fragile peace, the death of the Ard-Righ would upset the balance. And Raine would be responsible for it.
They were interrupted by two guards approaching the dais. One raised a knee in deference to King Patrick and said, “Forgive me, my king, but Brodie Faoilin has arrived. He wishes to know if you have located his daughter.”
The king raised a hand. “Do not let him in yet. Keep the gates closed for the moment.” To Carice, he turned and remarked, “I cannot refuse him the hospitality of Laochre. What do you want to do?”