An old-fashioned bard, one of the few left in Ireland, had asked for hospitality from Erne Rock that evening. It had been graciously granted. Now the bard, full of good food and drink, sat before the fire and began to strum upon his small harp. He sang of battles and heroes unknown to the duke and duchess of Glenkirk. He sang his ballads in the ancient Irish. James Leslie could understand a few words, but the Scots Gaelic was somewhat different from the Irish Gaelic tongue. Rory Maguire, seated at the high board with them, translated, his rich musical voice making the stories come alive.
When the bard had finished, James Leslie invited him to remain for as long as it pleased him, and sleep in the Great Hall. 'We are not a large castle, Connor McMor, but you are more than welcome.'
The bard tilted his head in thanks.
'If I am to ride early, I should retire now,' Fortune said. She arose from the high board, and curtsied to the three adults. Then she hurried off.
'Make certain you see Kieran Devers in the morning before my daughter does,' the duke of Glenkirk said to Rory. 'And advise him that Fortune is nae to be touched, unless, of course, he seeks a short life. He is welcome to ride wi her, and pursue a friendship if that pleases them both, but I brought Fortune to Ulster a virgin. I would return her home in the same condition. She must yet find a husband to suit her. You will see he understands?'
'Aye, my lord, I will,' Rory said. 'Kieran Devers is a decent man. I should trust him with my own daughter if I had one, but I will nonetheless deliver your message.'
Standing outside the Great Hall Fortune heard them, and smiled to herself. Her stepfather was really so sweet and protective, even if his diligence was misplaced. He should have been as strict with India, Fortune chuckled. She jumped, startled, as Rory Maguire appeared before her, his gaze amused.
'Eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves,' he teased her.
'If I am to have Maguire's Ford as a dowry,' Fortune reminded him, 'you will be in my employ, Rory.'
' 'Tis not certain now you will get Maguire's Ford,' he replied. 'That was supposed to be if you chose young William Devers for a husband. You have turned him away. There is none other in the area that should suit as well as he. Yer not the lady of Erne Rock yet, but I promise when I speak with Kieran on the morrow, I shall not embarrass you.'
'Why does everyone feel they need to protect me?' Fortune grumbled. 'I'm almost twenty, and no bairn.'
He chuckled. 'What a mixture you are,' he told her. 'The Celt and the Mughal warring with the proper English in you. Go find yer bed, not that you will sleep. I recognize the look in yer eye. Yer mother had that same look many years ago when she thought of yer da.'
'I think I love you, Rory Maguire,' Fortune said, and kissed his cheek. 'Go gently on poor Kieran. I've only just begun to play with him. I may discover I don't like him after all, but until I make my own decision, I don't want him frightened off.'
He bowed smartly to her. 'As you wish, m'lady,' he said.
With a girlish giggle Fortune hurried up the staircase to her chamber. Rois, dozing by the fire, awoke as she entered the room. 'I want a bath,' Fortune announced. 'I'll be riding early with Kieran Devers, and I want to know everything you know, Rois Duffy!'
Rois arose from her chair. 'Let's get you bathed first, my lady.' She hauled an oaken tub from a cupboard, and going to the door of the chamber opened it, calling down the stairs, 'Water for my lady's tub at once, please.'
Almost immediately the young male servants began arriving with steaming buckets. Adali knew the habits of the women of the household quite well. The tub was filled, and the serving men were gone. Rois helped Fortune disrobe, pinning her hair atop her head. Naked, the girl stepped into the water, and sat down with a sigh of pleasure. She scrubbed herself quickly as Rois put her clothing away, brushing the dust of the day from it first, and cleaning her boots. Then the serving maid brought out a clean, lace- trimmed night garment for her mistress.
Clean, Fortune stepped from the tub into the embrace of a towel heated by the fire. Rois rubbed her dry, and slipped the nightgown over her mistress's head, tying the ribbons that held the neckline closed. Then seating Fortune she unpinned her long red hair and brushed it vigorously one hundred strokes before braiding it into a single plait. When she had tucked her mistress into her bed, and drawn the curtains about it, she called for the tub's removal. The serving men came, and lifting the small tub to the open window upended it, pouring the dirty water into the lake itself. They then stored the tub back in its small compartment, and departed a final time.
'Open the curtain now, and sit by me while we talk,' Fortune commanded her servant. 'Tell me all the gossip about Kieran Devers that you have heard. Hold nothing back! I know about his early years, for he told me so himself this afternoon. Has he a mistress? Does he like the ladies? You hear everything, Rois, and I want to know.'
'The lasses like him, aye,' Rois began. 'He comes from Lisnaskea now and again to visit two here at Maguire's Ford. They are not the kind of girls a man weds, but good girls nonetheless. The gossip is that he is a vigorous lover. Ohh, my lady, I should not be speaking to you of such things, and us both maids yet!'
'I want to know!' Fortune insisted.
'They say he is a kind man with a good heart. One of the women was with child, not his, mind you, and she grew ill. He paid for the physician to come and tend to her, and when the child was born saw she had coin enough to keep her through the winter so she wouldn't have to work, and could regain her health again. The girl was a Protestant too, my lady.'
'But no permanent mistress?'
'None that I have heard of,' Rois said.
'No bastards?'
'None claimed, none named,' Rois replied. 'He seems to enjoy a good tumble, but he is not wanton, my lady. He simply has the needs of an ordinary gentleman. After all, he is his father's son.'
'And he has courted no lady?'
'It is said he feels he has nothing to offer a woman, being disinherited, my lady,' Rois said. 'A gentleman of his station likes to be able to offer a woman a home. He is not willing to bring a wife to his father's house as he is no longer his father's heir. 'Tis all I know, my lady. There is really little gossip regarding Kieran Devers.'
'Nothing bad,' Fortune mused aloud to herself. 'Pull out your trundle, Rois. I want to be up with the sun to ride.'
Rois did as she was bid, making certain the fire had enough peat to keep it burning through the night, washing herself in a small basin, and disrobing to her chemise. Lying down she was quickly asleep. She had left the bed curtains open for Fortune preferred it that way.
Above in her bed Fortune did not sleep at first. The moon shone through her windows, silvery as it reflected itself in the lough. Kieran Devers was a handsome man with his black hair, and his dark green eyes. He was tall and lean, although Fortune suspected that beneath his doublet his body was hard and well made. He enjoyed women, but was not loose in his behavior. He had a strong will. A very defined sense of right and wrong. He was, to her mind, an ordinary man very much like James Leslie. Why was it then that she was so fascinated by him? What was it about him that made him different from any other man she had ever met?
In a few weeks she would be twenty years old. She had been pursued and courted since she was fifteen, when her breasts had suddenly become obvious. Boys she had known in Scotland and England could scarce keep their hands to themselves, and swore undying love. She had laughed at them all. After all they had played barefoot, ridden, and hunted together since they were bairns. She just didn't see them as husbands. Even though they were all now grown, her childhood companions were friends, not prospective lovers. She couldn't take them seriously, and sent them all packing.
