Page 45 of Desire's Ransom
“Aife, ye must be exhausted,” Temair said. “Come inside and have a pint. Sorcha? Mor?” She beckoned the women to gather in the cave. “Gentlemen, if ye’ll give us a moment…” She didn’t wait for their approval, but she gave Cambeal a meaningful look to ensure his cooperation.
Though Temair was the leader of the woodkerns, decisions were usually made by the entire group. This situation, however, required a hasty plan. Cambeal would recognize that. He’d make sure the rest of the woodkerns stood by her decision, whatever it was.
Once the four women were inside the cave, the furious whispers began.
“What are ye goin’ to do, Gray?” Lady Mor asked Temair, wringing her hands.
“I know what I’dliketo do,” Temair ground out. “I’d like to grab mybataand pay my father a visit.”
“Why did they think I was Temair?” Aife asked.
Temair started pacing in fury. “That land has been in O’Keeffe hands for hundreds of years. Thattuathis my bloody legacy. How dare my father hand it off to strangers?”
Aife blinked in confusion. “What’s goin’ on?”
Lady Mor answered Aife. “That knight—the one who thought ye were Temair? Well, that’s Sir Ryland de Ware, the English knight who’s come to wed Temair. Only he doesn’t know that Gray is Temair, because he’s never laid eyes on her. And Cormac has told Ryland that Temair has run away when in fact—”
“Hush, Mor!” Sorcha said. “Ye’re only confoundin’ the matter. One thing at a time.” She poured ales all around.
Temair stopped pacing and took a bracing gulp. “Aife, what news from the tower house?”
Aife cleared her throat importantly and gave her report. “’Tis woeful tidin’s. This afternoon, a maid o’erheard the chieftain speakin’ to someone on the stairs. He was arguin’ with a lass, tellin’ her his plans had changed, that he was sendin’ her away.”
“A lass?” Temair asked. “What lass?”
Aife shrugged. “The maid said she was certain the lass must be his daughter Temair, finally released from her cell after all these years.”
“Go on.”
“The lass began weepin’ and wailin’, sayin’ the chieftain had promised she could stay at the keep. He told her to keep quiet or he’d give her a reason to weep. Then she said a curious thing. She said she’d tell everyone the truth—that the babe she was carryin’ belonged to the chieftain—if he didn’t keep his word.”
Lady Mor gasped.
Temair felt sick. No matter how diabolical she believed her father was, he always managed to exceed her expectations.
Aife went on. “After that, the maid heard the chieftain cloutin’ the lass and the lass whimperin’. There was a dreadful thud on the stairs and then silence. The maid was afraid she’d be discovered, so she fled. But she said when she returned later, there was a great deal o’ blood on the stairs. She feared the chieftain killed the lass.”
They all stared silently into their ales as they absorbed the horrible news.
Lady Mor sighed in sympathy. “The poor wench.”
Temair shuddered. She remembered what it was like to be beaten by Cormac. She’d been lucky to escape with her life. But to be burdened with child, then cast out like offal…
“Maybe she’s better off dead,” she breathed. Sometimes that was what she thought about her sister.
But the other revelation was even more insidious. Her father hadn’t intended to leave the land in the hands of strangers after all. By impregnating the lass he meant to pass off as his daughter, he planned to deceive the English, to make Sir Ryland de Ware believe the child and heir was his.
Lady Mor creased her brow. “I’m confused. After the chieftain went to such trouble to find a counterfeit bride and get her with child,” she mused aloud, “why would he get rid o’ her?”
Sorcha nodded. “And why would he send the English knights on a fool’s errand—searchin’ for the lass in the woods—when he knew very well she hadn’t run off?”
Temair could answer that. “The lass was threatenin’ to expose his secrets. She was becomin’ too difficult to control.”
That was the reason her da had never expended much effort in looking for Temair after she’d fled. Her sister Aillenn he’d always been able to manage. But Temair fought back. And if there was one thing a tyrant like her father could not abide, it was someone who wasn’t afraid to retaliate.
“So what do ye think the chieftain will do next?” Lady Mor asked.
“He’ll find a replacement for her,” Sorcha guessed.
