Medeiros, Teresa by Lady of Conquest

Author:Lady of Conquest
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

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“Are you daft? Can’t you understand?” Gelina grabbed Rodney by the jacket and shook him violently.

“I understand that you’re hysterical.” He firmly removed her hands from his lapel. “For Behl’s sake, Lina, quit screeching and get control of yourself.”

Sighing in disgust, she paced back and forth in the narrow confines of the tent. “Conn knows, Rodney.

He knows where I am. He’s coming after me.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Lina. We’re going after him. He’s not interested in you. If he’s after anyone, it will be Eoghan Mogh, the man who almost killed him a few months ago.” Rodney threw himself into a small carved chair and propped his feet up on the table. “He’s probably forgotten you already.”

Gelina shook her head, her voice deepening with fear. “You are the one who’s wrong. Eoghan has always been his enemy. I am the one who betrayed him. He told me he would kill me if I ever betrayed him. He is a man of his word.”

Rodney snorted. “You should be the last one to believe that.”

“If he finds me, I’m dead, Rodney. You’ve got to help me.”

Gelina stood with her palms turned upward in a plea, the baggy pants she wore emphasizing her vulnerability. Rodney rose and led her to the chair, sitting her down with firm pressure on her shoulders.

He knelt at her feet.

“If you and this jester were friends, isn’t there a chance his contact could mean something good?

Perhaps he wants to join us. If you’ll look outside, Princess, you'll see that we are surrounded by people night and day. Even if Conn was after you, he couldn’t possibly reach you. Right?”

“Wrong. If Conn wants me badly enough, he'll find a way to get to me. And Nimbus would never betray Conn.”

“Surely some little fool wouldn’t harbor that kind of loyalty to a king. You overestimate the dwarf,”

Rodney said with contempt.

“And you underestimate Conn.” She shielded her face from him, covering her eyes with her hand. “What kind of man was our father, Rodney?” she asked, stealing a surreptitious glance through her fingers.

“Rory Ó Monaghan was a good man. He was a fine warrior, and he fought for the noble Conn in many a battle. Don’t you remember the stories he used to tell us?” Glaring at her, he stood and poured himself a mug of ale. His hands shook.

“You are certain he was a good man?”

Slamming the earthenware mug down on the table with enough force to shatter it, he turned on her. “Of course I’m certain. I suppose you’re prepared to believe something that bastard told you instead of what your own brother tells you!”

“Your hand is bleeding,” she said quietly.

She rose and took his hand. A single shard of pottery protruded from his palm. She worked it out with gentle fingers, then wrapped his hand in a makeshift bandage torn from her jerkin.

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He stroked her hair with his free hand. “I won’t let him hurt you, Lina.

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