King's Warrior (Renegade Lords)

Tadhg reached to the belt in his hand and drew out the dagger. The earl looked at for a long second then whistled.

“You know what this is?” Tadhg asked.

The earl closed his hand around it and in a trice, it had disappeared beneath his cloak.

And with that, Tadhg felt untethered, like a ship released from the anchor it has been tugging on. He was overcome with an incredible sense of relief, a lifting of burdens, of weight, of darkness. He felt light in every way.

“I know what it is,” the earl answered. “And I know what to do with it. God save the realm, Richard can get himself in scrapes on account of his arrogance.”

“Keep it far way from everyone,” Tadhg warned. “Let it pass into posterity, an heirloom of your family, generation to generation, nothing to do with the king.”

“Consider that done too. Rumors may persist but not from my lips.” He tossed one last glance around. “Heard there was a woman in this madness?”

Tadhg nodded toward the back. “In a hot spring.”

His eyes lighted. “You’ve a spring?” Then, at Tadhg’s look, he laughed and lifted a hand. “Forgotten as well. I’m getting old; ’tis easy to do. Well,” he pulled his cloak, “I’ve got a long ride north. Best be off.”

“I am in your debt, sir. The king is in your debt, although I will never tell him you have it.”

“Good. No one need know but us and the rumors. Be safe, Irish.”

“You too, Scot.”

The earl’s cape swirled as he turned to exit, then he paused, and looked back. “You did good, son. I do not know if your father yet lives, but he would be proud. Your mother too.”

Tadhg nodded silently, then nodded again. And again. Finally, he found his voice. “They are both dead, sir,” he said.

“Ah. Well, maybe you can start the family anew.” He nodded toward the back of the cave, where Maggie lingered, waiting for him.

“I intend to do just that, sir.”

The earl nodded and was gone.

He marveled at the weightless buoyancy he felt, like he could draw breath, finally, and it was fresh, clean air. Perhaps this was how Maggie meant to feel, when she built her wings and went to jump off her cliff.

He turned and went to her, to give her that feeling now, together, as they began their life.

She was in the pool, wet and slippery and waiting for him, her eyes dark, her body a lush curve.

“It is gone?” she whispered.

“It is gone.”

They smiled. She lifted a hand. “I am waiting.”

He tore at his clothes, flinging them behind him as he slid into the pool with her. He reached for her, curled his hands around her warm, wet body. She turned onto her belly and he pulled her to him, floating her through the shallow water so her knees bumped the soft sandy bottom as he caught her up against him.

“You know a great many people in England,” she complained.

“They are all gone now, love,” he whispered back, wiping the damp hair back from her face. “’Tis only you and me—”

“O’Malley?” called a whispered voice form the cave chamber.

His head dropped. “Fuck,” he muttered, then dragged himself to his feet, out of the pool, throwing clothes over his dripping wet body, and went out to see the Marshal of England.

Chapter Fifty-One

HE STARED AT TADHG as he emerged from the back, then his craggy, bearded face broke into a huge grin.