The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(62)
Mary Stuart? Despite her exalted status, Stephen wouldn’t put it past the queen to be trying to trace him. Mary had left him in no doubt of her contempt when she’d left England.
Before Martin left Cahir, he spent several hours closeted with Ailis and her chief advisors. There was clearly something in the air—something the Kavanaugh household was waiting upon. Stephen knew it had something to do with Askeaton. He didn’t try too hard to find out after being verbally slapped down by Diarmid mac Briain for asking artless questions. Diarmid did not like him in the slightest, but Stephen thought that had as much to do with Ailis as anything. Mac Briain was besotted with her and did not like anything that turned her attention elsewhere.
And these days, her attention was fixed on Stephen. Even Liadan commented on it one afternoon as he watched her riding astride a horse that could easily have crushed her. “Mother must like you very much or she’d never let you near the horses.”
“She lets me near you—surely that’s a greater sign of trust.”
“No. Because you could use the horses to escape Cahir if that’s what you wanted. What could you possibly use me for?”
Stephen laughed even as a chill ran down his spine. Before she knew it, Liadan would no longer be a child—and a beautiful woman in Ireland could be put to all sorts of uses by unscrupulous men.
He knew he was well on his way to being besotted himself with Ailis, in a manner he’d never expected. All his previous women—not as many as all that—had been of a more professional nature, the affairs conducted at one remove from his daily life. All save Roisin, whom he carried with him like a little spark of fury to remind him what he most wanted in Ireland. But it meant that he’d never had the experience of being attracted—such a mild word for such a dangerous emotion—to a woman whom he saw every day in all manner of situations.
Before now he’d never guessed that breathless desire could strike so strongly when watching a woman poring over maps or snapping orders to her guards. Half a dozen times a day Stephen had to force himself to stand straight and breathe normally, to not let his eyes follow Ailis like a puppy with a new master. It was an insane, impossible proposition. One he would never, ever make. He could never bed a woman who didn’t know his name—and if Ailis knew his name, she would stick a dagger in his chest.
If only she would kiss him first, it might be worth it.
He’d not been this long without a woman since he was eighteen. Ironically, instead of making him hunger for bed, it increased his hunger for any touch. However slight. Even the right kind of sideways glance from Ailis left him dizzy.
He was behaving precisely like a lovestruck girl, alert to her every movement and expression. And there was just enough of intimacy in both to keep him in suspense.
In which state he remained until the first Thursday in August when the household at Cahir erupted in triumphant victory. Stephen, teaching Liadan how to handle a wooden small sword, had watched a dusty outrider exchange terse nods with Diarmid in the courtyard and then the two men vanished inside. Not two minutes later the shouting began, of a cheerful tone that made Maisie, watching from her seat on the steps—a partially written letter on a board across her lap—look up and say, “Well, at least we know it’s good news.”
“What is?” Liadan dropped her wooden sword and scampered in the direction of the activity.
Stephen caught at her arm and held her back. “A soldier must always keep focus.”
“I’m not a soldier.”
“But you are learning to handle a sword. That makes you responsible while you hold that weapon. Would your mother go running off at the first excitement?” When Liadan scowled, Stephen promised, “If no one comes to tell us in five minutes, we’ll go in together.”
It was only three minutes before Ailis appeared, Diarmid a pace behind at her shoulder. Their shared lineage was obvious in the sharpness of their cheekbones and the fierceness of their dark eyes. Just now, both of them seemed lit up like candles from within.
“Askeaton is fortified,” she called to the three of them, and there was no mistaking the triumph in her voice. “One hundred Spanish soldiers have marched to its relief. The Earl of Desmond has already begun sending raiding parties out to reinforce his borders.”
One hundred Spanish soldiers…so the missing soldiers had finally revealed themselves. Stephen spared a moment in considering Walsingham’s dismay at the news, but then Ailis came closer. “Will you ride with me, Stephen? This news brings forward some of the plans we have spoken of.” She kindled like a flame, and Stephen felt his blood pulse to meet her.
“Ride?” he repeated, at the same moment as a furious Diarmid fumed, “You can’t be serious!”
“I’m always serious,” Ailis replied serenely. “I think it’s time I show Stephen the Rock of Cashel. Alone. If we are not back by dark, by all means send a scouting party after us.”
She stared at her captain, daring him to openly disobey her. But the success at Askeaton gave her enough sway for Diarmid to mutteringly agree.
Stephen mounted a horse and followed Ailis, for the first time since his arrival, outside the walls of Cahir Castle.
—
With Stephen riding at her side, Ailis felt the tension of the last months—all that time hoping the Spanish soldiers would remain concealed and their plan unnoticed—slip away like the scudding clouds overhead. It was little more than ten miles to the Rock of Cashel, and during their leisurely ride Ailis told the Englishman stories about the spot. From St. Patrick banishing the devil—thus blasting the entire enormous rock to its present location—to the Irish abbot in Germany who sent two of his carpenters to help build Cormac’s Chapel.