Conor

  As the three started forward Emma joined them.

  Conor paused and placed a hand on her shoulder. ' 'Nay, Emma.

  You'll stay here with the wagon."

  She shook off his hand. "I'll not stay behind. They're my father and

  sister. My responsibility. I'll see to them."

  "It's too risky, Emma. Besides, there are three of us. More than

  enough to see to this."

  "But my father and sister don't know you. I'll not have them

  frightened by three strangers." When she saw that he wasn't being

  moved by her argument she added, "I can reassure them that we're

  here to help them. Without me, Conor, they might cry out in fear and

  ruin everything."

  "She's right," Gavin said. "Better to bring the lass along and not need

  her, than to wish we'd done so."Conor gave a sigh of defeat. "All

  right, Emma. Come along then. But promise me you'll do everything I

  say."

  "I promise." She had to run to keep up with their impatient strides.

  And blamed that on the thundering of her heartbeat. But there was no

  denying the nerves that hummed through her as they neared the

  house.

  When they reached the rose arbor, Conor pointed to the second story,

  then proceeded to climb. When he reached the balcony, he motioned

  for Emma to follow. By the time she was standing beside Conor, his

  father and brother had pulled themselves over the rail.

  Without a word Conor pried open the window and led the way into

  the cold, neglected chambers of little Sarah.

  In the sleeping chambers they found the child as before, huddled in

  her bed, her eyes vacant and staring, her hair matted and tangled.

  When she caught sight of the strangers she became agitated, rolling

  from side to side as though anticipating pain.

  To soothe her, Emma sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her little

  sister into her arms, crooning softly, but the child wouldn't be still.

  Conor turned to his father. "You see the problem. Her crying may

  attract the attention of the servants. You'll have to carry her down the

  arbor and across the lawns without being seen. Can you manage?"

  The older man's eyes crinkled into a smile. "Do you remember the

  time, while hunting, when you fell into the swollen river and were

  being swept downstream?'

  Conor smiled, remembering. "Aye. You jumped in and pulled me to

  shore, while I wailed like a banshee, not out of fear, but because I

  thought I'd just lost the biggest stag I'd evet killed. And when we got

  to shore, I realized you had not only dragged me to safety, but the

  carcass of the stag as well."

  Emma listened in amazement to this tale. What manner of men were

  these O'Neils? Any man would leap into a raging water to save his

  son. But to drag the weight of a dead stag as well?

  Aye, she decided, they were giants. Very foolish or very fearless

  giants. But giants who were devoted to one another.

  Despite his size, Gavin O'Neil gathered the small bundle into his arms

  with great tenderness and cradled her against his chest.

  "What is her name?"

  "Sarah," Emma whispered as she touched a hand to her sister's cheek.

  "Have no fear, lass. Sarah is safe in my arms."

  Emma felt a tightening in her throat as Gavin strode across the room.

  How many times, before her father's marriage to Celestine, had she

  seen him in like manner, cradling his daughter to his chest? And now

  he lay as helpless as a babe himself.

  "Now to the challenge," Conor whispered to his brother.

  Following Emma's lead, they made their way along the hallway

  toward Daniel Vaughn's chambers. Inside they found him in his bed,

  shivering beneath a thin coverlet.

  Emma caught her father's hand. "He's so cold, Conor."

  At once Conor leaned over the bed, touching a finger to the old man's

  throat. "He has grown weaker. Celestine's' potions are working their

  evil magic."

  Seeing the stranger in his line of vision, Daniel became agitated and

  tried to pull away from Conor's touch. In his excitement he cried out

  and gave a series of low moans.

  "He thinks you've come to harm him," Emma whispered. To her

  father she murmured, "Don't be afraid, Father. It's me. Emma. I've

  come to help you."

  Conor turned to his brother. "Hurry, Rory. Help me lift him from his

  bed. His cries may have roused one of the servants."

  The two brothers wrapped Daniel's blanket around him, then lifted

  him as easily as if he were a child. But before they were halfway

  across the room they heard footsteps approaching.

  Thinking quickly, they returned him to his bed, smoothing the

  blankets, then turned toward a wardrobe. Conor threw open the door

  of the wardrobe and jumped inside, drawing Emma with him. Though

  there was little room, Rory leapt in beside them and drew the door

  closed just as the door to the sleeping chamber was opened.

  Emma's heart was thundering so loudly she feared the intruder would

  surely hear. Held firmly against Conor's chest, his arms wrapped

  tightly around her, she clung to his strength as the footsteps sounded

  across the floor.

  "Here now. What's the problem?" A servant's voice seemed overloud

  in the silence. "Having another one of yer fits, are ye? Lady Vaughn

  left orders that ye were to take this potion whenever ye started yer

  wailing."

  Emma heard the sound of the glass stopper being removed from the

  vial. Heard the sound of her father's faint struggle. When she

  instinctively started to push away, Conor tightened his grasp on her

  and covered her mouth with his hand, to keep her from crying out.

  "None of that now. It'll do ye' no good, m'lord. Ye'r wife knows

  what's good for ye. Drink this now and let me get some sleep."

  Conor felt the wetness of Emma's tears spilling over his hand as she

  wept silently in his arms. To hear such indignities against her own

  father and to be helpless against them was breaking her heart. It only

  served to harden his own heart against the woman who had inflicted

  such pain on the woman he loved.

  "That's better. Sleep now, m'lord."

  The servant's footsteps sounded as she made her way across the room.

  The door was opened, then closed.

  As soon as the footsteps receded, Rory threw open the door of the

  wardrobe and led the way to the bedside.

  Daniel Vaughn lay silent, his breathing slow and deep.

  Emma knelt beside the bed and lifted his hand to her lips. "I promise

  you, Father, this will be the last time you will suffer at that woman's

  hands. I give you my word on it."

  Conor and Rory waited until she got to her feet. Then they wrapped

  the blanket around the still figure and lifted him once more from his

  bed.

  "Check the hallway, Emma," Conor whispered.

  She opened the door and stole a look before beckoning them to

  follow. This time they managed to make it to Sarah's room and out the

  window to the balcony without any further delay.

  By the time Emma had managed to close the window, Conor and

  Rory were halfway down the arbor, balancing the limp figure of her


  father between them. She watched in amazement, marvelling at their

  strength.

  "Hurry, lass," Rory whispered fiercely.

  She scrambled over the edge and followed them safely to the ground.

  As she was racing across the lawns toward the waiting wagon, Emma

  glanced over her shoulder, fearful that at any moment she would see a

  candle flickering in the window of her sister's chambers. If that

  should happen, a cry would go up and the entire household would be

  scrambling to search the house and surrounding grounds.

  To her relief, there were no lights. No cries for help. The household

  lay slumbering.

  Her breath was burning her lungs by the time she reached the others.

  "Hurry, lass." Rory tucked blankets around the two figures in the

  back of the wagon, then scrambled to take aseat on the hard bench

  beside his father. ' 'We have no time to lose. We must go now."

  Conor nodded. "You know what to do. We'll follow behind."

  "Wait." Emma held up a hand and the men halted their movements.

  "Why do you do this? Why do you help me, no matter how

  dangerous?"

  It was Gavin who answered for all of them. "We've always known,

  lass, that it takes but one man's actions to make a difference in this

  world. Regardless of the danger, each person must do what he can to

  right the wrongs. Come now. We have no time to waste."

  With a crack of the whip the horses leaned into the harness and the

  wagon took off with a lurch. Moments later they were swallowed up

  in the darkness.

  Conor helped Emma onto the saddle before mounting his own horse.

  As they sped across the darkened landscape, he whispered furiously,

  "Hurry, Emma. We musn't lose sight of them. The boat can't be kept

  waiting if anyone is delayed."

  "What boat?"

  "We've a boat waiting to take you all to Ireland."

  Ireland. The very sound of that made her want to weep for joy. Home.

  Safety. Freedom from Celestine. Freedom from her threats. Freedom

  from the terrible burden of having to lie and cheat, for the sake of her

  loved ones.

  Emma breathed deeply, imagining that she was already breathing the

  air of freedom.

  Suddenly, over the sound of their horses' hooves, came' another

  sound. A horse and carriage coming toward them from tb£ opposite

  direction. Beside her Conor motioned for her to follow as he led the

  way behind a hedge.

  They had barely taken cover when a carriage bearing two figures

  passed by.

  "...need something that will convince her that Conor O'Neil is not to

  be trusted. Else I sense she will be swayed by him and give up the

  idea of war against the Ulster leaders."

  Emma and Conor stiffened. Though the two people were shrouded in

  darkness, there was no mistaking the voice of the driver. It was Lord

  Dunstan.

  "I know you'll find a way, my love."

  Emma turned to Conor with a look of shock. The voice of the woman

  beside Dunstan was seared into her mind and soul. It was the hated

  voice of her stepmother, Celestine.

  "In fact, I will help you. Stay the night with me, and together we will

  come up with a way to ruin Conor O'Neil's standing with Elizabeth."

  "Oh, you are a clever one, my lady. If anyone can think of a way to

  drain a man's power..." He leaned over to nuzzle h£r neck, "...it is

  you."

  The sound of their laughter drifted on the breeze as the carriage rolled

  past.

  In the silence that followed Conor turned to Emma. There was so

  much he wanted to say to her. So much he held in his heart. But those

  things would have to wait. As always, there was no time. No time for

  love words. No time for anything except this thing he must do for

  Ireland.

  "You must ride now, Emma, until you catch up with my father's

  wagon. For the boat must leave while it is still dark. Once the dawn

  light streaks the sky it will be too late."

  "But what about you, Conor?"

  He gave her his most charming smile. ' 'I have something I must see to

  here."

  When she hesitated he leaned over and drew her close for a hard,

  quick kiss. He felt the flare of heat and the sudden quickening of his

  heartbeat. For a moment he merely stared at her as if memorizing all

  her features. Thenhe slapped her horse's flank and said, "Go now.

  Ride like the wind, love."

  There was no time to think. No time to protest. Her horse was already

  racing along the path.

  She turned for another glimpse of Conor. But all she could see was

  darkness, where moments earlier he had been. Like a creature of the

  night, he had already blended into the shadows.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emma's steed was swift and sure, dancing along the ribbon of

  moonlight that formed a path toward the looming docks.

  She knew why Conor had remained behind. He needed to learn what

  her stepmother and Dunstan were plotting. Were she in his position,

  she would do the same. But it pained her to know that he wouldn't be

  coming with them to Ireland. There was so much she wanted to tell

  him. So many secrets she'd kept locked in her heart. She wished she

  could explain why she'd allowed him to believe a lie. And she

  yearned to reveal the love she felt for him. Love unlike anything she'd

  ever known before.

  When she heard the unmistakable thunder of approaching horses, she

  pulled her mount from the trail and took refuge in a stand of trees. As

  the riders drew closer, she could see that they were English soldiers,

  from the queen's own guard. Their voices carried in the stillness of

  the night.

  "Why has Lord Dunstan ordered us from our beds?"

  "He does not wish to find himself facing the sword of a

  highwayman."

  "If that be true, why did he leave the safety of the palace?"

  "Because his latest conquest lives outside London. Often they tryst at

  a tavern not far from the palace. We usually meet him there, allowing

  him enough time for his... pleasure, and then we accompany him

  safely back to the palace."

  "Then why are we traveling in this direction?"

  "Because the woman insists that her husband is now so old and weak

  it no longer matters if she takes her lover to her own bed."

  "I pray I am never that old. Or that weak."

  At the coarse words and rumble of laughter, Emma's eyes narrowed

  with fury. Celestine and Dunstan had made a mockery of all that her

  father had once held dear.

  Hadn't she always known that the marriage was a sham? Celestine

  had no room in her heart for anyone but herself. She had married only

  for wealth and titles. Still, it was one thing to surmise such a thing;

  another to see the proof of her father's betrayal. It was so shocking, so

  painful, that for a moment all Emma could do was sit and stare as the

  figures receded into the darkness.

  And then another thought intruded. Sweet heaven. These soldiers

  were heading to Clermont House. Unless she warned Conor in time,

  he would be caught unaware. And at the mercy of dozens of swords.

  She thought
of the boat that must set sail before dawn. A boat that

  would see her safely home with her beloved father and sister. How

  she yearned for safety. For freedom from this oppressive burden

  placed on her by Celestine. If she hurried, she would be in Ireland by

  dawn. But at what cost to the man who had saved her family?

  Hex orders to catch up to Conor's father and brother were forgotten.

  As was the freedom that lay tantalizingly just out of reach. Right now,

  the only thing that mattered was Conor. His safety. Perhaps his life.

  * * *

  Conor once more secured his horse in the stand of trees, then ran

  across the sloping lawns toward the house. From his place of

  concealment he watched as a servant, who had obviously been roused

  from sleep, crossed the courtyard toward the waiting horses and

  carriage. With a muttered oath the servant unhitched the horses and

  led them toward the stables. A short time later, with the horses secure

  in their stalls, the servant scurried back to the comfort of his bed.

  When all was quiet Conor climbed the arbor and made his way along

  the balcony, until he heard the murmur of voices. Ducking down, he

  inched his way toward the open window. Then he settled down to

  listen.

  "Don't you want to check on your husband?" Dunstan sprawled on a

  chaise and watched as Celestine filled two goblets with wine.

  "Why should I? The old fool will be snoring."

  "Or possibly dead, with the amount of potion you've been giving

  him."

  "Not yet. But soon. I've been careful not to give him too much at one

  time."

  "Very wise." Dunstan gave a snort of laughter as Celestine handed

  him the wine. "It might have looked suspicious if he'd followed his

  wife to the grave too soon."

  "Aye. This way, all the servants will attest that the old man never left

  his bed. His death will be deemed a blessing."

  "What of the child?"

  Celestine chuckled. "A fall from a horse can leave lingering injuries

  that eventually end in death. No one will dwell on it."

  "That leaves only your stepdaughter, Emma." Dunstan watched as