"Get down!"
Connor reached up and caught her under the armpits, dragging her from Finnbarr's back. He had torn off his mask even before he had dismounted. His face was white with rage, his aqua eyes ablaze. Faced with that sizzling anger, feeling the strength of his grip on her because she did not dismount fast enough to suit him, Caitlyn felt the exhilaration she had experienced on the ride dissipate under a cloud of real fear. Connor looked furious-and Connor in a black temper was formidable indeed.
She was standing in front of him now, her head tilted back as she met that inimical glare. Although she had grown, he was a tall man and she came up only to his chin. His scowl deepened as he glared at her. Then his hand came up to yank her hood down and strip off her mask, which he threw on the ground. Her hair tumbled from its confinement to tangle about her face in a silky black cloud. She brushed it back with an unsteady hand. Caitlyn was slightly unnerved by the suppressed violence of his movements, which told as no words could have done just how extremely enraged he was.
"Connor, I-" She started to explain that she had just wanted to watch, but the sound of her voice seemed to madden him further. His mouth twisted, his eyes shot fire like twin volcanoes, and he reached out to catch her by her upper arms as if he meant to shake her. He didn't, but his grip hurt.
"I ought to take a whip to you," he growled. "And I may! Have you any notion what a bloody stupid thing you did? You could have been killed! You could have gotten one of us killed! What the bloody hell did you think you were about?"
Then he did shake her, a little hard shake that whipped her head back once. Caitlyn's hands came up involuntarily to grasp his wrists. Her eyes were wide as she met his furious gaze. As she met those flaming devil's eyes, anger and something else took root inside her: a queer kind of tension to which she could not put a name.
"You let her go!" The words were Cormac's and were directed at Connor. Caitlyn had been so focused on Connor that she had forgotten the presence of the other four, who had dismounted and were watching or trying not to watch as their temperaments dictated. Judging by his reaction to Cormac's challenge, Connor had apparently been equally caught up by the rage he meant to vent on her. At the interruption, both principals looked around at the speaker in some surprise. Cormac was standing close to Connor's shoulder, his mouth set grimly and his eyes resolute. Though not as tall or leanly muscled as Connor, he was much stronger than he looked, as Caitlyn knew from watching him work. Like Connor, Cormac still wore his black cloak, although he had discarded his mask. A riding whip was clutched in his right hand.
"What did you say?" Connor barely breathed the words, the flames in his eyes flaring higher as they focused on his youngest brother. His hands still gripped Caitlyn's upper arms hard, the strength of his grasp apparendy forgotten in his amazement at this challenge from the youth who had always hero-worshipped him.
"I said, let her go. You're hurting her!"
Connor's hands tightened on her arms, and Caitlyn had to hold back a squeak. She knew he had forgotten that he was holding her, that he was not hurting her deliberately. His attention had shifted from her to Cormac, his expression dangerous.
"This is naught of your affair. Stay out of it," he bit off, then swung his eyes back to Caitlyn again. She mois- tened her lips, but before she could say anything Cormac jumped back into the fray.
"Let her go, Conn!"
Connor's eyes shifted back to Cormac as if he couldn't believe what he was bearing. Caitlyn could feel anger emanating from him in waves. If nothing else, Cormac had managed to divert some of that rage from her to himself, but Caitlyn was not thankful for the intervention. The relationship between the brothers had always been too close, too special, for her to want to see it damaged. Especially if she was the cause.
"Get on about your work, Cormac. This is between Caitlyn and me." Connor was holding back the imminent explosion with a considerable effort, Caitlyn knew. Those aqua eyes burned as they lifted from his youngest brother to the others, who had frozen in place to watch the unprecedented drama l»eing played out in front of them. "That goes equally for the rest of you. Rory, see to the horses. Liam, you and Mickeen sort through the take and keep what we need. And be quick about it. I've an appointment with Father Patrick at St. Albans, and he's like to worry himself into the grave if I'm a minute late. Which," he said, his eyes shifting grimly back to Caitlyn, "I don't mean to be. As for you, lassie, you can explain yourself at length later. I've no time to listen now. But I want one thing clearly understood before I go. You are never, under any circumstances, to try such a trick again. I want your promise."
His eyes bore into hers. She wet her lips again, half inclined to say what he wished her to and get the whole anger-charged episode behind her. But she had no intention of remaining tamely in the house while they rode the High Toby without her. And her respect for Connor was too great to allow her to give him her word if she had no intention of keeping it.
"I'll have your promise!" His hands were tightening on her arms again. Caitlyn met that devil's gaze with apprehension, but she was no less determined for all that. Despite his temper and his strength, which was obviously many times hers, she did not physically fear Connor. He would not hurt her, she knew. The only consequence of her defiance would be a furious blaze of temper-and that she could deal with. She hoped.
"That I cannot give." Her voice was low, but there was no doubt that everyone present heard her words. An appalled silence filled the air. Every eye was trained on her. Her own eyes never left the man before her.
At her reply, Connor practically gnashed his teeth. Staring up into that dark, lean face, feeling the sheer force of the body bending over hers, she knew a moment's craven wish to take back her rash words. But she reminded herself again that this was Connor. Despite his vibrating rage, she was in no danger of bodily harm.
"Your promise!"
"Don't you hurt her, Conn!"
"You stay out of this, young idiot!" Connor hissed at Cormac, who had stepped forward as he bent threateningly over Caitlyn. But even as he was rebuking Cormac, Connor's eyes never left Caitlyn, who was practically hanging from his hands as he lifted her onto her toes by the strength of his grip on her. "Your promise!"
"I cannot give you a promise I don't mean to keep." The words were breathless but valiant. Caitlyn sensed the collective indrawn breaths of her audience. Connor stared down at her for a moment, mouth tight, eyes smoldering. She went on desperately: "I want to ride with you. All of you. You're my family now. I can help…"
"I'll hear no more bloody talk of helping!" Connor roared, the sound so loud that it almost deafened Caitlyn for an instant. The lid was off his temper now, and no mistake. "You'll damned well do as you're told, and I'm telling you that if you ever, ever, pull such a stunt as tonight's again I'll whip the skin from your bloody bones! You'll stay safe in bed, and there's an end to it!"
"I won't!" Caitlyn's temper was beginning to heat in its turn. She glared up into the aqua eyes that flamed so close to hers. "Why can't I ride with you? I can ride as well as Liam and a sight better than Mickeen. I can learn to shoot-"
"No!" Connor was nearly beside himself.
"Conn, she really is a good rider." Cormac had been in favor of having her come with them ever since she had discovered their identity. "I'll watch out for her. It'll be a lark, having her along."
Connor released Caitlyn abrupdy and turned on his brother. His jaw was clenched with the force of his anger. "Aye, and will it be a lark watching her get shot or hanged? She's a bloody lass, and she'll stay in the house where she belongs! And that's my last word on the subject!"
"I'll not stay in the house! I'll not! I don't care what you say, I'll do as I please." Caitlyn moved forward, hands balled on her hips, spitting her defiance at the back of that black head.
Connor whirled on her so fast that she had no chance to jump out of the way. The back of his hand caught her face with numbing force. She cried out as the blow sent her tumbling backward into the straw, her hand raised to cradle her injured cheek. She barely had time to register Connor's stunned expression before Cormac leaped forward with an inarticulate cry of rage and brought his whip whisding around toward his brother's head. Connor fended off the whip with an upraised arm, then responded with a lightning jab to the stomach that sent Cormac flying to the straw alongside Caitlyn. He lay holding his stomach and groaning. Caitlyn sat up, glaring at Connor, her eyes blazing as vividly as the scarlet patch that marred her right cheek. Though she was quite sure that the blow to her had been an accident, knowing that did nothing to calm her temper. But she did not quite dare give voice to the many unflattering epithets for him that crowded her tongue. Fists still clenched and jaw hard, Connor looked ripe for murder.
"I'll have no more bloody sass from any of the lot of ye!" Connor spoke through his teeth as he glared at the two he had put on the ground. "You'll do as I say, or you'll get the hell out. All of you."
He swept Mickeen, Rory, and Liam with his eyes, stalked over to Fharannain, and with a single fluid modon leaped into the saddle. Mickeen hastily finished tying on the last of the saddlebags and stood back. With a last blistering glare at the insubordinate pair in the straw, Connor set his heels to Fharannain's sides and rode out into he night.
His leaving seemed to break the spell that held them all in place. Rory came over to give Caitlyn a hand up, and Liam bent over Cormac. Only Mickeen went on with the business of caring for the horses and cleaning up after the raid.
"Connor's in the right of it, you know," Liam said seriously to Cormac. "Caitlyn has no business riding with us."
"Jesus, what bloody maggot got into your brain to make you go for Conn with that whip, little brother? You know he didn't mean to knock Caitlyn down. Conn would never hit a female. He's never even hit you before, and you've deserved it more times than I can count." Rory spoke to Cormac even as he pulled Caitlyn to her feet.
"I knew the bloody lad would be nothing but trouble the first time I clapped eyes on him," Mickeen put in sourly from where he was sweeping straw over the closed door to the tunnel. "If I'd known he was a bloody lass, I'd have left him by the road afore ever we came within ten miles of Donoughmore. Lassies are worse than poison to young lads."
"Even if he didn't mean to hit her, Conn had no business shaking Caitlyn like he did. She's a female, for Christ's sake! And if he wants me to leave his bloody precious Donoughmore, I will." Cormac was still angry as he got to his feet.
"Connor's in the right of it," Liam repeated stubbornly. "Though that was temper talking at the end. Still, he deserves better than for you to attack him, Cormac. After all he's done for you-indeed, for all of us!-I'd think shame on myself if I were you!"
Cormac glared at Liam for a moment. Then some of the temper faded from his eyes. "I don't know how I came to do such a thing," he admitted. "I never meant to. It was just… seeing him hit Caitlyn. I think I went a wee bit crazy."
"It's all the fault of yon toothsome lassie," Mickeen said, eyeing Caitlyn with severe disapproval. "Many's the brothers who've been parted by such. Deadly as poison, they are."
"I'll beg Conn's pardon tomorrow." Cormac sounded genuinely contrite. Then he added with a final touch of iruculence, "If he first begs pardon of Caitlyn."
"I've no need of your championship, Cormac." Caitlyn brushed the straw off her breeches and moved to take charge of Finnbarr, who had still not been put in his stall. I ler cheek tingled faindy, and she did not doubt that Connor's hand had left a mark on it. Still, it was nothing to ihe mark the altercation had left on her soul. The sudden licrce flaring of violence between the brothers had shaken her to the core. And making it worse was her secret concurrence with Mickeen's assessment: what had happened wus all her fault. "You make your peace with Connor, und I'll make mine. In my own time, and in my own way."
Mickeen looked at her sharply. Out of the comer of her rye Caitlyn could see him shaking his head.
"Nothing but trouble," she thought she heard him mut- icr. And then he was turning his attention to his task and leaving her to hers.