The Pleasure Garden: Sacred Vows\Perfumed Pleasures\Rites of Passions (12 page)

“What is it, Cara?”

“It is about Gregory. I heard firsthand yesterday a conversation between him and his father.”

Edmund pulled back, looking at her with a frown. “What need would you have to spy on them, Cara? Have you reason to be concerned for your safety?”

“That was not my intent. I was on my way to tell Gregory to his face that I canna marry him. ’Twas their conversation that stopped me, and I hid in the shadows, my heart fearful at what I heard.”

She had his undivided attention.

“They were discussing using the marriage to take my father’s land, without causing undue alarm to the rest of
the tribes. Once settled, they planned to burn the villages and continue to little by little destroy what is left of our tribes in this area. I believe the way he spoke of it was to ‘rid the crown of those Gaelic pains in the asses.’”

Gregory’s behavior, his good-natured brother-to-brother act now made perfect sense. Edmund had been invited to the wedding to make it look normal, to show that Normans, like his father, we’re in agreement with the union. But Edmund knew there was a personal jab involved, as well. Gregory had always been competitive, in the ways normal boys are, or so Edmund once thought. As Lord DeVerden used Edmund’s father, often wielding that puritanical English birth over his Old English one, Gregory was now doing the same. If Edmund suspected correctly, Gregory didn’t truly love Cara any more than he would any other daughter of one of the descendents of a Gaelic earl. She was a means to an end and that was all.

Edmund held her by the shoulders. The idea forming in his mind was likely the last act of a desperate man, and its outcome could be the death of them all. “I need you to go to your family. I would do so myself, but I fear that your father would not wait for an explanation, but tie me to a tree before I could open my mouth.” He kissed her forehead. “Will he listen to you?”

Cara nodded. “I am his blood, his youngest daughter. Mother to the grandchild that has managed to charm him, even as I suspect I once did. He will listen.”

“Then you must go to him, explain what you know. Tell him what you heard between Gregory and his father. I am going to find my father and explain my plan. With any luck he will lend me his help. Meet me at the bridge after the sun sets over the hill—you and as many kinsmen as your father can gather.”

Worry lined her face. “What is going on in that head of yours, Edmund Collier?”

He realized then that he was asking her to trust him, to believe that he would not desert her again. “You’ll not be rid of me this time. By Beltane, you will be my bride. I swear on my oath.”

She nodded and pulled him close. “Aye, see that you don’t falter on this, Edmund. Remember how many kin of mine will be waiting on the bridge to meet you.”

Edmund’s father kept his eyes focused on his clasped hands. He was still processing all that his son had just explained. “I am going to marry her this time, Father, and I intend to expose Gregory’s plan.”

“It is far too dangerous, Edmund.” His mother cast a worried glance at her husband. “Tell him that he must give up this ridiculous notion. It is not worth our lives. If the king heard of it, it will be considered treason. That is what they told us before.”

“Hush, woman. Let me think.” His father stood and paced the room, as he often did when he was considering his options. “For too long the DeVerdens have held their blue-blooded aristocracy over those of us who have been here longer, keeping an eye on England’s port investments. They’ve used the threat of treason to achieve their every purpose in parliament, and I for one am sick to death of it.”

“William, listen to yourself.”

“I am listening for once to my gut. Before the statutes, there was no dissention between the Old English and the Gaels. It was when the crown sent in their deputies, and appointed them landlords over us all, that the trouble
began. Well, I say it’s time they understood that they are not the only English voice in this county.”

Edmund listened with pride to his father’s words. “We hope to settle this amicably, Father, by asking DeVerden to forfeit his position in lieu of being tried by the entire tribe of Ormond, of the threats against their people.”

His father looked at him. “It is true they acted on their own behalf, and not on that of parliament. That could place the entire county in danger of repercussion from the Gaelic tribes. You have the word of this Gaelic woman and one of the castle’s maidservants?”

“She speaks the truth. I believe her,” Edmund responded. “I have pledged my troth to her.”

“They are but women, Edmund. Their word will not hold up in a jury of men.”

“I have no intent of making either face any jury, Father.” Edmund rose from the table and shrugged into his coat. “Gregory will hang himself by his admission. I only have to have more than one witness to that confession.”

“And how will you do that?” his father asked.

“I know Gregory’s weakness, Father—his pride. He would stop at nothing to prove how cunning he is. I thought we were once friends, but his friendship was only for what best served him. I know that now. He once held that power over my family, forcing me to make a decision that I did not wish to make. He thinks he has placed me again in a position where I have no choice but to watch him marry the woman I love. And then he’ll destroy her people. But I am not going to walk away and let him get by with this a second time, and if you would choose to help me, to be my witness, then be at the castle study in thirty minutes’ time. You shall have your proof, and straight from Gregory’s lips.”

Cara ran to Kiernan’s house first, and along with Connor, the three gathered the children together and made the journey by cart to their parents’ house. Her mother saw to the older children right away, tucking them into bed. Kiernan rocked her youngest in the same chair where their mother had rocked them. Cara’s thoughts drifted to how she might look, rocking a child of her own one day.

“Now, give me one good reason, daughter, that I should believe a word that this Englishman has said to you?” Her father’s voice, though he tried to control it, boomed within the walls of the small house, bringing Cara out of her reverie.

“Galen, shhh!” her mother cautioned, holding a finger to her lips.

Cara sat at the table across from her da, trying to ignore the sun lowering on the horizon. “Because I love him.”

“And isn’t that what put you in the mess you are in?”

“Galen,” her mother scolded. “Watch your tongue.”

“Aye, what’s to say that he isn’t using this to set a trap? Like sheep being led to the slaughter.” He pinned Cara with a wary look.

Cara had not the mind-set of a Gaelic warrior; she did not devise plans on the field of battle, nor understand the politics between tribes or nations. She knew only two things. “He is the father of my child and wants to marry me. He has a plan to help us, Da. His only desire is to live peaceably as we once did, to make it safe for me—” she looked at Moyran, fast asleep on the cot “—and safe for his daughter.” She motioned to everyone standing around the table. “Safe for all of us—my family and his.”

Her da rubbed his thick red beard and scowled at his daughter. She knew when it came to those he loved, he
never made hasty choices. She was the same. Cara knew he was going to agree.

“I will need to meet this young man who thinks he is going to marry my daughter.”

Cara jumped up from her chair and rounded the table, hugging her father’s neck.

“All right then, we have not much time,” he said. “Conner, go fetch your cousin, tell him to ride up to his uncle’s place.” He took Cara by the hands. “You and the rest of the womenfolk will stay here in the village. I want you out of harm’s way.”

“Nay, my place is at Edmund’s side,” Cara pulled her hands from his and fisted them on her hips, prepared if she must to go toe-to-toe with her da.

Galen Ormond cast his wife a long-suffering look.

“She is your daughter, to be sure,” she stated.

Cara hugged her mother. “It will be well, you’ll see. Edmund can be quite determined.”

Her da’s shaggy red brow lifted as he looked up at her. “Aye, and haven’t we been blessed with the proof of that, daughter? Come on then, we best be going if we’re to meet this lad at the bridge.”

It took some time and effort to calm down the crowd they’d managed to bring together in a short time. On horseback and on foot they came, rallying as they always did in the name of the tribe.

Cara listened as her da stood atop a tree stump and addressed the restless crowd. “Many of you know that my daughter was to be wed in a few days’ time to the son of the duke of Ireland. Unfortunately, we have received news that prevents such a union from occurring.”

“She would be better with me anyway, Galen,” called a voice from the crowd. The villagers parted as the widower
farmer, twice the size of her father, pushed his way through.

“Aye, ’tis probably true, Theron.”

“Da!” Cara cried up to him.

Her father looked down at her and shrugged. “However, it is with happy tidings that I announce she will marry, to a man more suited in age. My apologies, Theron, but that is the way of it.” The crowd laughed.

“Edmund, my future son-in-law that I’ve yet to meet, has asked us to gather at the bridge, where we will receive further instruction about his need for us this night.” Galen climbed down off his crude platform and grabbed his daughter’s hand as they made their way en masse to the bridge. “I do hope, daughter, you know what I am asking of these people.”

Cara looked up at the moon, just two days before the full moon of Beltane. She thought of the night when they’d met, and the magic that was theirs in the secret garden. Where love took seed and blossomed, and was rekindled, surviving time and distance. If the gods and goddesses had guided them this far, they would see them through to completion.

11

“AH, I’D BEGUN TO WONDER IF YOU’D BECOME lost, as has my betrothed.” Gregory offered a glass of whiskey to Edmund as he entered the study of the castle. It was just where Edmund thought he would be, near a warm fire, his whiskey close by. “We searched every room in the castle and there was no sign of her. You’re sure you won’t change your mind? It will take the chill off.”

Edmund shook his head and made sure that the door to the study was left partially open. “I apologize, milord, that my news isn’t more favorable.”

Gregory raised his glass. “I commend you, milord. An entire day conversing with those Gaels takes great tenacity.”

“There is some good news, however. Ormond indicated he would round up his kinsmen and join in the search.” Edmund watched for Gregory’s reaction.

The glass paused at his old friend’s lips. “How many would you say that is?” he asked, not looking at Edmund.

He shrugged, enjoying watching Gregory squirm at the idea of hundreds of Gaels intruding on Dublin Castle. Even as they spoke, his father led a party notifying several
parliament leaders of the unsanctioned plans of Lord DeVerden. Edmund had met with Cara and her father at the bridge, where he’d explained the situation and the hope for an amiable resolution. “You know better than I the numbers. This is not my area of expertise.”

Gregory cast him a look and tossed back his drink. “Roughly more than three hundred at last count,” he muttered, and poured himself another drink. Edmund waited, letting Gregory find his courage in the bottle.

“That seems to be quite a crowd of Gales, milord. Of course, with that many, they should be able to find your bride in no time.” Edmund turned away to hide his smile. “Perhaps she’s gone to visit a sick aunt.”

Gregory paced the floor, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “It occurs to me,” he stated with some agitation in his voice, “that perhaps I should call off this wedding until the girl decides to show up.”

“Or until she is found,” Edmund interjected.

“All of our efforts should be focused on finding her.” He slammed his glass on a table, picked it up again and refilled it, dismissing Edmund’s comment.

“That would be the noble thing to do.” He watched Gregory put away his third glass of whiskey.

“What we sure as hell do not need is a pack of unruly Gaels sneaking around Dublin Castle. Bloody sneaky bastards. They’ve caused more problems for England than I can count.”

The corner of Edmund’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Tell me something, Gregory. Do you have feelings for Cara? What I mean to say is, do you love her?”

He whirled on Edmund, surprise registered on his face. “Love?” He snorted. “Affection, perhaps, but I’m sure
nothing like what you felt for her.” He pointed his finger at Edmund, still clutching his glass.

“I guess that was my error, was it not?” Edmund said, baiting him.

Gregory’s laugh was caustic. “Your problem, what has always been your problem, is that you are too naive. You see, Edmund, if you wish to succeed in any position of true value, the first rule is the realization that what is important in any relationship is not emotion, but power. Not how it benefits others, but how it benefits you.”

He slapped him on the shoulder, and Edmund had to force himself not to swing his fist into his face.

“You see, that’s always been the difference between you and me. Your father’s like that, too, always looking for the greater good, what is best for all.” Gregory tossed him a smirk.

Edmund’s jaw ticked as he forced a smile, playing into his former friend’s pompous, drunken rant. “Well, it’s true you have me there, Gregory. I simply do not understand a word you’ve said. In fact, I think it’s gone over this naive head of mine. Maybe you could put it in terms I will understand?” He held up the whiskey decanter and Gregory eyed him, but held out his glass, anyway.

“Take, for example, this wedding. It was not for love that I had planned to marry your lovely Cara.”

“
My
lovely Cara?” Edmund asked quietly. He glanced toward the door, hoping that by now a contingency of witnesses were listening to this conversation. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you see it was a ruse, my dear Edmund? A political game of chess, meant to place the DeVerden dynasty and those who would support it in a better position to gain favor from the crown. Parliament cannot seem to agree on
anything without first gnawing the life out of it. I found a way around that, and determined a much quicker means of ridding us of our Gaelic enemies was to first bed them. By marriage, I obtain Cara’s dowry—a generous offering of her father’s land to begin with, and the rest at his passing. It places us in a position of power. Under their own noses, they have let the enemy in, where it is far easier to find ways to dissolve villages, one by one, until they are no longer a meddlesome burden to England. And do not think that the English king would not reward handsomely whoever accomplished that feat.”