Chapter Thirteen #2
“They were with my men,” Brodie corrected. “You had no right to leave King Rory’s men or our traveling party. I know you were trying to escape the marriage by taking sanctuary with the MacEgans.”
“I was, yes. But none of that matters anymore, does it?” She saw no point in trying to hide it. He had captured her now, and Raine had aided them. The thought wounded her, and she wondered if he regretted what he had done. Or if he would find a way to help her escape.
“I don’t understand why you ever wanted to avoid the marriage,” her father insisted. “How could you not wish to be High Queen of éireann?”
Carice met his gaze and admitted, “Because I am dying, Father. What kind of a High Queen could I ever be?”
“You’ve been ill, yes. But you look better.” Her father guided her inside his tent. There were furs set up to serve for bedding, and he brought her a thick crust of bread. “Try to eat more. You must be hungry.”
She thought of Raine’s suggestion, that it might be bread causing her illness. And though it was unusual, she didn’t want to spend the night in pain if that were true. “I will take meat if you have it. No bread.”
Her father shook his head. “No. The healer said you should eat only bread until you’ve regained your strength.”
“I only felt worse when he was treating me. Let me eat what I want, Father.”
But Brodie would not yield. He set the bread down upon a cloth and said, “When you grow hungry enough, you’ll eat.”
That wasn’t true. Whether or not bread had anything to do with her illness, she needed her strength now. “I am tired,” she told him. “I would rest now.”
Her father’s stern expression softened. “I must speak with the commander, but I agree. You should sleep.” He paused a moment and added, “And you should welcome the idea of this marriage, Carice. You will have every comfort, everything you’ve ever desired. More wealth than you could dream of.”
“That was never what I wanted,” she whispered. But he hadn’t heard her. Already he was leaving the tent, and she overheard his promise to return after he’d spoken to Sir Darren.
She sat up, holding her knees against her chest. In the solitude of the tent, she released her tears, wishing she had not let her heart lead her astray.
She had given everything to Raine, but it wasn’t enough to change his mind.
And although she knew he regretted lying with her, his punishment had brought the memory of that night to the forefront.
He had never wanted to take her innocence, but she had driven him to it. Any guilt from that night was hers to bear, not his. She didn’t know what had prompted the fight between his commander and him, but she didn’t doubt it involved her.
Her eyes burned with grief as she wondered what to do now. They would force her to travel to Tara, where she would have to wed the High King. She would endure a wedding night and an existence that would surely kill her.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the bread lying before her. Although she was hungry, the thought of food sickened her. Or perhaps it was grief at the thought of facing a torturous future without Raine. When she was with him, he had made her want so much more. He’d made her want to live.
And now that he had delivered her back into this prison, she felt so foolish for wanting to believe him.
“Carice.” A low voice came from outside the tent, and she saw the shadowed form of a man.
It was Raine. He sat near her but did not enter.
His shoulders were hunched over as if he were holding back the pain of the whipping.
Her heart bled for what he had endured, but she didn’t want to see him now.
If she did, her resolution would crumble into dust. Did he know how much power he held over her?
“What is it?” she asked dully.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know what he wanted from her, but words would not heal the bruised feelings.
“I was ordered to kill the High King.” His words hung in the space like a blade poised to strike. Before she could speak, he continued. “That was why I came to you. My commander thought that escorting you to Tara would grant me a way to get close to him.”
She could hardly believe what she was hearing. “And you agreed to this?”
“For my sisters’ sake, oui.”
There were no words she could say that would make this right. “Is that who you are, then? A murderer?”
“My soul is damned, Carice. There is no redemption for me. Not after all that I’ve done.” His voice was rough and emotionless. “But the night in your arms was more than ever deserved. I am sorry that I hurt you.”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, searching for an answer. “It didn’t have to be that way between us.”
“You gave me a priceless gift, one I will never forget. And I swear to you that, despite this journey, I will guard you with my life.”
“But you’re still going to bring me to him, aren’t you?”
He fell silent for a moment and admitted, “I have no choice, Carice.”
And with that, he left her alone.
They arrived at Tara the following night, a day after the Feast of Imbolc.
Sir Darren gave orders for his men to make camp half a mile away from the High King’s lands while he ordered Raine to accompany him to the gates.
They walked in silence through the darkness, but with each step, Raine felt as if it were a pathway to Hades.
The lash marks upon his back burned with the reminder that he was a slave to these orders. He had no freedom at all, and his commander would tolerate no disobedience. But he refused to apologize for striking at Sir Darren. He wasn’t sorry at all for defending Carice’s honor, and the knight knew it.
But he was sorry for having to use her to get close to the High King.
With every hour that passed, he found himself questioning his orders.
Even if he did bring down the Ard-Righ, he would likely be caught and killed.
And then what would happen to his sisters?
He hardly trusted the king to free them.
When they were close enough to see the torches surrounding Tara, it was clear that the number of guards had been doubled.
Every man was on alert, and Darren turned grim.
“Something must have happened before we arrived. We were supposed to be here at Imbolc. I didn’t think one day would matter, but I was wrong.
” His commander’s mood had darkened, and he appeared on edge.
“Why? What was meant to happen at Imbolc?” Raine didn’t understand why the delay had any bearing upon their plans, but Darren appeared furious.
“We had men hidden among the High King’s soldiers. One of the Irish kings was our ally, and he was going to help us infiltrate the fortress. If the Ard-Righ has increased his forces, then our allies must be dead or imprisoned.”
The knight began pacing, and he glared at Raine. “We cannot take our soldiers anywhere near the fortress. They would be accused of plotting with the others. You must go alone with Lady Carice and her father’s men. I will join you later, but you must pretend to be Irish.”
Which meant that his beliefs were indeed accurate—the Norman army would give Raine no support at all. He would have to kill the High King and escape captivity on his own.
Or he could attempt to get Carice out and disappear with her. His mind seized upon that hope, and he wondered if it was even possible. For so long, he had obeyed orders that had accomplished nothing. Was it not better to escape this life and go in search of his sisters?
“Well?” his commander prompted. “Can you disguise yourself among them?”
Raine shrugged. “It’s possible. But what if Brodie Faoilin will not allow me to accompany them inside?”
“That choice is not his to make,” Darren answered. “You brought his daughter back to her rightful place. I already spoke with him at length last night. He knows that there is unrest between both sides, but so long as his daughter becomes queen, he cares not what happens to Rory ó Connor.”
“And is that your intention? That Lady Carice will become High Queen through her marriage?”
Sir Darren didn’t answer. The stoic look on his face made it clear that he had little interest in Carice’s welfare. “The marriage will take place, as planned. You will attend the festivities in secret and kill the High King during the feast. Do it quickly and get out.”
“What about her?”
Darren sent him a sly look. “If you move swiftly, they might accuse her of killing her husband. And then you’ll be free.”
The man’s utter lack of emotion revealed that all he cared about was ending the life of Rory ó Connor. Nothing else mattered to him, and it didn’t concern him if Carice was harmed in the attempt.
Raine held fast to his silence, for if he dared to voice his true feelings, he would strike Darren down.
And if he laid a hand upon his commander, the man would try to kill him.
He forced himself to remain cold as frost, to hold back his temper and concentrate on protecting Carice from this marriage.
She had accused him of becoming a murderer.
It’s what you are, his inner voice reminded him. You will never be forgiven for your past sins. But do this, and your sisters will be free.
Would they? He was beginning to have his doubts. Darren had said it was possible, but that meant nothing without the king’s approval.
They began the walk back toward the camp, but Raine wasn’t listening to his commander’s instructions. Something about him hiding among Brodie Faoilin’s men and then separating himself after the wedding.
His mind sharpened as he thought of stealing the bride from her own wedding and running away with her.
Carice didn’t want to wed the High King, and he’d shattered her hopes when he’d brought her here.
But it wasn’t over yet. He could change everything.
The only remaining question was the fate of his sisters.
He didn’t know where they were now, but he intended to find out.