King's Warrior (Renegade Lords)

The smile fell from Fáelán’s face. He grabbed his cloak and threw it over his shoulders and walked out without another word.

“I will not lock you up this time,” the Marshal called after.

“You could not lock me up if you tried,” he said without turning.

The marshal’s face tightened, then he turned to his men, who were now standing staring at him, awaiting more orders.

“Well, what are you about?” he said in a complaining tone. “Let’s pack it up and move out. Take his body,” he said, pointing to Sherwood. “We’ll give it an improper burial, then we have deeds to do.

“We’ve got an Irishman to find, and it shan’t be easy in the wilds of the western lands. There’s an inn or two, but otherwise, it’s moors and forests and caves. So let us ride.”

Chapter Fifty

“WHAT IS THIS PLACE?” Maggie whispered.

Her words echoed off the walls of the cave at Renegades Cove. Slippery wet, the dark stone caught and bounced reflections from the torch in Tadhg’s hand, glinting back light in dancing orange-red bursts and darts, as if fairies were playing a game with the light, tossing it high up on the walls, then rolling it back down.

Her words, too, reflected back down, soft and sibilant.

Tadhg reached for her hand. “’Twas my portal to England, the place I first came ashore. Now, it will keep us safe, until we can go home again.”

She let him draw her forward. They’d ridden two days following the fight with Sherwood, slipping in and out woods, skirting the edges of towns, until they were out in the wilds, far from anyone who care overly much about kings and crowns. Out here, they were more concerned with harvests and how hard a man worked, and that suited Tadhg just fine.

For the first time in many years, he felt safe.

In a hundred years, he would not have predicted such a feeling would have been come by striding into his old lair. Not with his heart trailing off the tips of his fingers, in the form of a clever Frenchwoman with pale skin, an abundance of hair, and an intrepid soul.

He squeezed her hand then let her fingers slip free as he went forward alone. Carrying a torch lit from a hidden stash of pitch and waxed linens stored under a rock outside the cave, he held it aloft and walked in further, then stopped.

Fifteen years, and he remembered it like yesterday.

He stood in the middle of the wide center that had served as their ‘great hall,’ covered by a layer of fine sand. He tipped his head up and searched the walls, then strode forward decisively and thrust the staff of his torch into a hidden recess on the wall. It lodged, and extended at an angle.

The light reflected and blossomed, illuminating the recess of the high-ceilinged cave in a golden russet glow. Smoke spiraled up in a grey plume and disappeared through the many hidden ventholes.

He flung down the packs of goods he’d purchased in the last town before they veered into the wilderness, toward this remote, hidden cove. Blankets and clothes and food, all bought with coin in the pouch that had hung from the saddle on Fáelán’s horse.

Tadhg had some debts to pay, there. A lot of them. He’d misjudged and generally been an arse. And still they’d saved his life.

Because Maggie had gone to them.

He turned to her. She’d hesitated in the entryway, her willowy figure dark.

“Come in,” he urged softly. “You are safe here.”

She came forward a few steps, her eyes widening in amazement as the light spread and revealed the cave. Then she paused and, fingertips pressed to the rock wall, removed her shoes and stockings and stood barefoot in the silky sand.

How like Maggie, to move fully into this moment, let it be whatever it was and adapt. He’d never met a cleverer woman, nor one who so lit the dormant fires in his heart.

“What is this place?” she whispered again.

Like light, her words danced in the cavern, then settled like dust. She walked in further, turning in a full circle as she came, gazing up the walls. She stretched out a hand and touched them; they were wet, sparkling.

He watched her a moment, then backed up and leaned against the boulder, arms crossed. He said nothing, just watched her wander and explore. She trailed her fingertips over the walls, then bent, and put her nose almost to the wall, and made a little exclamation of surprise.

“Tadhg, there are drawings here!”

“Aye, that there are.” Almost to the ceiling in one section, the walls of the cave had been decorated with a multitude of drawings.