Page 13 of The Splendor of Fire
Moira tightened her arms around him, fear for Father’s mind cramping her stomach. He’d never been a man of vengeance, always a man of peace. But something broke the day Maw died. She looked up at the smiling sketch of Maw and Father on the wall, a tear trickling down her own cheek for the loss of the only mother she’d ever known.
“Niall will pay. He’ll pay. The day is coming when this clan will rise up. We won’t be persecuted any longer. Léo is the answer, I know it. The Lord will raise him up, he’s told me so.”
Terrified now, she released her grip on Father and looked into his eyes shaking her head.
“Yes, my Birdy-lass. He is the man we’ve been waiting for. We must help him. We must help him break free. We must help him overthrow his brothers. It’s the only way. Not for our sake…” Father pointed toward Maw’s laughing face on the wall. “For Joan.”
Moira sat back on her heels and took a deep breath, praying in silence that she would find a way to reason with him. As slowly as she could, she formed the signs with her fingers.Father—revenge, an uprising—it’s a very dangerous thing. Isn’t our peaceful life here much more valuable? Wouldn’t Maw want us to wait on the Lord, not take matters into our own hands?
“But I have waited. And he has given an answer. Besides, we wouldn’t be taking matters into our own hands, we would be doing as the Lord wants us to do.”
There would be no more reasoning with him today. It would do no good. Moira took his hand and gave it three short squeezes, their secret way to say I love you.
Father’s face softened and he took her face into his hands. “I love you too, daughter of my heart and soul.”
Chapter 5
CRÀDH PRISON - JUNE 1, 1384
Having waited all day to see who his visitor would be, Léo sprang to his feet as soon as the slat in the door slid back. For thirteen weeks she’d refused to appear.
The red-headed guard angled his eye over the slat. “Visitors.”
Visitors. Plural.For the briefest moment he registered with wonder the feeling of his spirits rising as they hadn’t in six months. Father Allen entered and stepped aside. His heart fell. Where was she?
Father Allen looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. “Come on, love.”
Moira took a few wooden steps into the room, basket perched upon her hip, raindrops clinging to her plaid, eyes fixed on the floor.
Remembering the dusty remnants of his courtly manners, he bowed before her as he would’ve done if they were meeting in Paris, instead of in his stinking cell. “Father Allen, Mademoiselle Allen. How good to see you.”
The door began to shut and Father Allen held up his hand. “Hold there. My daughter is going to complete Léo’s visit today. I’ll be down with the other political prisoner, Eoghan O’Gallagher. Can you keep an eye out for her again?”
Moira’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline and she looked at her father, horrified.
“It’ll be all right, dear. The guard will keep the slat open and an eye on you. It’s good to see you. Léo. I hope you don’t mind. The other prisoner is in need of extra care this week.”
His spirits rose further as the old man disappeared out the door. “Oui—aye. I’ll be happy to visit with Moira.”
The door clanked shut and she stared at it.
Afforded good looks since birth, Léo was accustomed to using the tone of his voice and a few eyebrow arches to persuade a woman to do anything. He looked down at his wasted appearance and the long, straggly beard he’d grown in the last six months and cringed. On top of looking like a street urchin, his words to her the last time they’d met stung his conscience and he knew he would need to make amends in a more tangible way.
Oblivious to his wildly racing heart and frantic thoughts, Moira went through the motions of the benevolence visit. Shaking out her plaid, she looked at him and then quickly away, then around the room as if the moldy stone walls and sour rushes on the floor were infinitely more interesting than paying him any attention. He felt himself smiling at her, amused.
She hefted the basket up and he flew forward, trying to wrench it from her hands. “Let me help you.”
Her mouth tightened and her face pinched together. She shook her head and held on.
Léo clinched his teeth, trying to get a better hold. “I’m trying to help you. Just…give…me…the…basket.”
She wouldn’t let go. He gripped her arm and tried to pry it away but she held on with more strength than he expected. Fingers probing, he discovered a strong, well-muscled arm.
The guard’s voice raised. “Hands off or she goes!”
He let go and put both hands up, and she stumbled backward and nearly to the floor.
Blowing a curl out of her eyes, she walked the basket the three feet over to the fire, putting it down with a thunk.
