THE HART AND THE HARP

Sorcha MacMurrough

Ireland, 1146

Shive MacDermot and Tiernan O'Hara agree to wed to end a five-year feud between their clans which had been provoked by the murder of her brother.

Though an unlikely alliance at first, Shive begins to fall in love with her new husband. She soon realises her brother's killer was never Tiernan, but a member of her own clan. How can she win Tiernan's love and prove to him she is not the enemy?

Shive undertakes an epic struggle to save her lands and Tiernan's from the ambitious Muireadach O'Rourke, determined to kill anyone who opposes his bid to become high-king of all Ireland.

Will she prove worthy of Tiernan? Or will he believe that she has betrayed him, and become her enemy himself?

THE HART AND THE HARP
Sorcha MacMurrough
Ireland, 1146
ISBN 13: 978-1-58345-030-7
Word Count= 127,000
Rating: Mild to moderate sensuality
Price $4.99

PROLOGUE

"Since my young days of passion-joy or pain

Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string-

And both may jar."

Lord Byron, Childe Harold, III.

The West of Ireland, 1140

The wild boar thundered through the undergrowth, heading straight for the tall lanky young man. He blinked in disbelief. He had been so sure his first arrow had killed it. But he could see now that it had merely struck the beast a glancing blow. Blood ran down its shoulder in small rivulets. It was squealing so loudly the sound was almost deafening.

Infuriated by its pain, the boar rushed forward, so close that the hunter could feel its hot breath on his face. Bringing up his dagger, he managed to slash open the boar's throat and windpipe with a desperate thrust and twist of the knife. The dead animal collapsed upon him, pinning him down with its huge weight, which threatened to crush the very air from his lungs.

He drew as deep a breath as he could manage in order to call for help. A twig snapping nearby heralded the arrival of his companion, who now stood surveying the blood-bespattered young man with a glint of amusement in his narrow eyes.

"Don't just stand there, get this carcass off me!" the hunter wheezed.

"'Tis a fine beast. A pity it didn't kill you. On the other hand, it wouldn't have suited my purposes at all if it had."

The second man towered over the hunter menacingly now. Tugging an unusually ornate jeweled dagger out of its scabbard, he raised both hands, and brought it down with a violent stabbing motion.

The young man struggled desperately to get out of the way, or at least ward off the blow. His eyes widened with terror and astonishment as the dagger descended inexorably. He shrieked in agony as it cleft his heart in twain.

He gasped, "Why! In the name of God, how could you!" as his own blood began to well up through his mouth and gushed all over his chest in a crimson fountain.

"I'm sorry, lad, truly. You're simply in my way. The wheels have been set in motion. We shall just have to see where they take me, once you're no longer an obstacle."

As his life's blood emptied out of him, the young hunter declared with his last breath, "You'll pay for this one day. I swear on my own grave."

"No doubt I shan't be going to Heaven, Fiachra. But not to worry. I always did imagine living for all eternity with choirs of angels singing would be rather dull," his murderer drawled. "I have no doubts that you shall go there though. That should delight you. You've always declared the afterlife to be a better place than this world. You always were a bit too fanatical. You've become a stumbling block, lad. A danger to me which I simply have to be rid of."

Fiachra struggled futilely against death for a few more seconds. But at last his head fell back, and with his last dying breath he cursed the man who had brought him to such an end.

When he was certain the young man was dead, his assailant dragged the boar's corpse off him, and tugged it a small distance away, further into the woods. Then he smoothed over the dirt trail which he had left from dragging the heavy swine. He checked to make certain he had left no trace of his presence behind. He surveyed the scene once more with an expert eye.

Aye, his scheme would work, he thought with great satisfaction. It had all been so easy. The lad had gone to his death like a lamb to the slaughter. And while he himself knew that appearances were often deceptive, this looked convincing enough for his purposes.

Once the young hunter's corpse was found, he would effectively have killed two birds with one dagger. He chuckled to himself at the apt simile as he circled the area one last time, then headed for home quickly. He had slipped out of his room through his secret passage, but there was no telling when someone might come looking for him on important business, and a trip to the privy only took so long.

He ran back home through the woods, almost skipping in his delight. He had set the wheel of fortune in motion now. Even as poor Fiachra and his friends would spin downwards towards their own ruin, so he would rise to the very top of the wheel. And once at the top, he would do anything, anything, to stay there.

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THE HART AND THE HARP

Sorcha MacMurrough

Ireland, 1146

ISBN 13: 978-1-58345-030-7

Word Count= 127,000

Rating: Mild to moderate sensuality

Price $4.99

CHAPTER ONE

"Marry Tiernan O'Hara," Shive MacDermot gasped. "Ruairi, you can't be in earnest! Even if I were to agree to your proposal for the sake of the clan, Father would never allow it. How could he sit by and sanction the marriage of his only daughter to his son's murderer?"

Ruairi sighed deeply, and pulled one of the wooden chairs closer to the roaring fire to sit beside his lovely auburn-haired young cousin. "Shive, the case against Tiernan was never proven. At any rate, surely you can see the wisdom of the match. This feud between your father and Tiernan has gone on for five years now, at the loss of countless lives. The cost has been too high for both families."

"I know, but-"

Ruairi ignored the interruption.  "Since I find I'm being forced more and more into a position where I shall have to choose between your clans one day for the sake of attaining peace in this region at last, I would rather settle this right now. I have no wish to be maneuvered into destroying one clan for the benefit of the opposing one. This feud must end before both clans end up decimating one another, and I'm left with no one loyal to support me in my bid for the high kingship of Ireland."

Shive rose to pace up and down her workchamber in her castle for a few moments, stroking the soft sheepskin of the jerkin she wore for warmth over her dark blue woolen gown as she moved about the room restlessly. A new fall of snow just starting outside the horn-covered window caught her eye. She sat down heavily on a settle within the window embrasure, and gestured for her dashing cousin, tall and agile, with brown hair and bright green eyes, to join her there.

She opened the window wide in a futile attempt to ease the suddenly stifling atmosphere of her chamber. They gazed out at the blinding whiteness in silence for several moments.

Finally Shive asked, "But why should I be the one who pays the price of that peace? I understand your longing to be ard ri, and would support you tomorrow if I could, but surely there must be other ways of securing the title of high king for yourself without giving me to Tiernan O'Hara in marriage.

"I see the need for dynastic unions, even if I don't necessarily approve of the custom. I'm not so naive as to think that everyone in the world can wed for love. Certainly not people of our social standing. But how can you honestly expect me to marry a man who has every reason to hate me and all I represent? As I should hate him? It would be a disaster for both clans."

Ruairi shook his head. "I've spoken to Tiernan already about the match, and--"

Shive's violet eyes widened, and she stood abruptly, once more resuming her frantic pacing. "You asked him without even consulting with me to see whether I would indeed be amenable?" she raged, tossing her long mane of lush burgundy hair over her shoulder.

"Shive, please, calm yourself and hear my side of things before you condemn me out of hand for my arrogant ways," Ruairi commanded, pulling his cousin back down to sit beside him.

"I'm listening, Ruairi." Her eyes flashed a challenge to the brown-clad warrior. "Persuade me. After all, you'll have to be prepared to face down my father if you're really intent upon this match. He will be a far harder nut to crack than I could ever be."

"You always were susceptible to my masculine charms, little coz," Ruairi teased, before stroking gently the wrist he still held.

Sobering, he began to spell out his arguments for her clearly and succinctly. "Shive, you know as well as I that no one could ever have damaged the friendship Tiernan and your brother had for one another until that fatal day five years ago when Tiernan's dagger was found buried in Fiachra's heart. You cannot remember it as clearly as I do. You were but thirteen--"

"I remember it as though it were yesterday," Shive said, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears as she stared unseeingly out of the window.

"Of course you do," Ruairi corrected himself hastily before pressing on. "A clever man like Tiernan would never have allowed his dagger to be left behind as a sign of his guilt, not even if he had really killed your brother in a fit of passion over some imagined insult as many have suggested. Moreover, Fiachra was always the more impetuous of the two. Hotheaded, always taking sudden fancies. I can recall that just before he died he did nothing but talk of entering a monastery."

Shive toyed with a stray dark blue thread on the sleeve of her thick woolen gown. "Are you saying that Fiachra might have picked a quarrel with Tiernan, and Tiernan was merely defending himself?"

"I'm saying that I truly believe that Tiernan had nothing to do with Fiachra's death. If it were an accident he would have just admitted it. He's not the type of man to lie or cover up his errors. In all my dealings with him he's always been honest and open. Has always spoken his mind candidly.

"Therefore, if Fiachra's death wasn't an accident, it brings us back to the original charge, that of murder. But think about it, Shive. What could Tiernan have possibly hoped to gain from Fiachra's death? He couldn't inherit your lands, become tanaist of your sept, gain money or power in any obvious way. In fact, he's come off the worst in all the hostilities with your father, not least because he's often simply refused to fight him.

"If it wasn't for money, then what could Tiernan have ever hoped to gain? And before you ask, I can tell you now that I'm certain it wasn't a love rivalry between them either."

Shive ignored the telltale lurching of her heart. She had no reason to be jealous of Tiernan. She had every reason to loathe the man!  She looked at her cousin defiantly.  "Fiachra's death has served to destabilize the entire region. Tiernan could have hoped to make his family stronger at the expense of ours."

"It was your father who attacked him in revenge. Your father who has carried out all the raids every summer for the past five years. Tiernan has defended himself, but done nothing more than that even when the atrocities have got to such a point that his own men have threatened to overthrow him as tanaist if he doesn't do something to stop these incessant hostilities.

"Tiernan has risked losing everything, even his life, to avoid harming your family.  He's never gone on the offensive to raid your territory, or inflicted the dreadful damage upon your clan that he could easily do if he fully mustered his whole clan. I truly believe he's innocent. Tiernan didn't murder Fiachra with his own hands. Nor did he suborn anyone to do it."

Shive didn't necessarily disagree. But if not Tiernan O'Hara, then who?  Her mind swam with all her cousin was saying, all he was hinting at.

"No, I'm afraid if you wish to find your brother's murderer, you must look closer to home. Judge for yourself who has most benefited from Fiachra's murder."

Shive stared at her cousin, horrified realization slowly dawning on her lovely features.

Ruairi said urgently, "Shive, I know it's painful to dredge up the past like this after so many years, but we can't afford to ignore the truth for much longer. Every single one of your four cousins has gained from Fiachra's death. Now they're all pressing you to marry them. Can you be sure you are marrying an innocent man who loves you for yourself alone? Or is it all part of a plan to consolidate their gains, by marrying the only living direct descendant of the current leader of the clan? And one who, if I may say so, is a powerful force in her own right?"

Shive shook her head vehemently. "No! It's unthinkable. We were all raised together here at Skeard after my mother died. We've always been so close. I can't even begin to imagine any of them committing such a heinous crime."

"You've avoided answering the second part of my question, Shive," Ruairi observed. "I know you well enough to see that you have doubts the same as myself. Parthalan, Fergus, Ernin and Mahon have all been paying you court ever since your aunt died. Your uncle even tried to encourage a match between yourself and Parthalan as the eldest heir. But your uncle died in August, and so no more has come of those arrangements, at least not for the time being.

"You're an intelligent woman, Shive. Surely you can see that what I say is true. I know you aren't in love with any of the lads, worthy though most of them are. If you stay here at Skeard any longer, your position will be compromised with one or the other of them. Then you'll be forced to marry whether you will or no. If that happens, well, even if it isn't outright rape, even if you seem to settle down as a couple together well enough, you know that deep in your heart, you'll always wonder.  You'll never be certain if your marriage is based upon true love, or simply one man's insatiable lust for power. And where he's killed once, with an innocent face, he can easily do it again, even to his own wife."

She jolted in shock and leaned out the window, gasping for breath. The sting of his words, and the tears behind her eyes, were almost more than she could bear.  He was right. Every word was true. The bile bubbled in the back of her throat to think that any one of her cousins could be capable of such treachery.  Yet there was no one else. No one except...

Before she could follow the trail of the odd glimmer of an idea in her head, she noted her cousin was speaking once more.

"If you do have to marry for dynastic considerations, Shive, why not marry Tiernan? I'm sure he's innocent, and he's suffered long enough. He loved Fiachra like a brother. He'd never allow you to be harmed in any way. Surely you must realize that."

"So you're saying that one of my cousins killed Fiachra in order to marry me to get the title of tanaist, and to consolidate their claims to land and titles?" Shive asked, feeling as trapped and restless as a caged tiger. "Does it never occur to you that Mahon and Ernin might really love me for myself?"

"As a friend and companion, aye. As a sister. But as a woman deserves to be loved? No, I don't think so." Ruairi shook his head sadly, sorry to hurt his lovely cousin in this way, but determined to protect her no matter what the cost.

"But perhaps this is just what Tiernan has been looking for? A chance to get the lands through me," Shive argued, though without conviction.

Ruairi ran the fingers of one hand through his thick brown locks impatiently. "Your father is still very much alive, and Parthalan has been named as his successor. While not everyone is happy with that choice, they'll respect your father's wishes on the matter. I assure you, Tiernan is not playing a trick. I'm the one who suggested the marriage, not him."

"You did?" she gasped, stunned.  "But why?"

"Tiernan wants to marry you to end the enmity between your families once and for all, and to try to make restitution for what you all think he's done to your family. He's a fair man, thoughtful, intelligent. I've never known him to lie to me, or be anything other than a loyal and faithful ally. You could do a great deal worse in a husband and life partner."

"But I might have other choices in mind for my life beside marriage. The convent, perhaps?"

Ruairi patted her hand affectionately. "With the way you go strutting around in your tunic and hose, out hunting every day, you'd never last more than a week in a convent. You're a thinker, a planner, with agile hands and more skill in the manly arts of war than I've ever seen in one so young.

"No, don't make a face, it's true. I'm not just flattering you for your accomplishments. I must say, too, it was well Aunt Afric taught you some womanly skills as well as what you learnt from the men hereabouts. The convent is not for you. You will make some great warlord an ideal wife, even if your feminine decorum does lapse from time to time. It's what you were born and bred for, Shive, despite the fact that you had a brother and cousins. You're a born leader."

Shive smiled at her cousin's teasing. "I live in a man's world, and so must compete as an equal. It would never do for me to be seen to be weak. You know how much work I've done keeping the castle here at Skeard running smoothly. My cousins haven't got a head for such things, just hunting and campaigning. But you're right. Perhaps it's about time I began to think about changing my home.

"I had thought about going to Father's castle at Rathnamagh to see if I could put my talents and skills to good use there all the time, instead of just on occasional visits, but you know he and I have never got on. We're too different, he and I. He's too ambitious. As for myself, well, I fight if I have to, but I deplore the loss of all life, and would rather seek peace."

Ruairi sighed. "I wouldn't be too hasty about leaving Skeard just yet. The truth is, Shive, I think the time may come soon when you'll have to fight tooth and nail to keep your family together and safe. I've heard rumblings of discontent against Parthalan as tanaist of the sept. It's your right to challenge him for the succession, if you so wish it. Then this castle could be yours. Or if not this one, then one of the other three."

Shive gazed at Ruairi in horror. "I couldn't possibly challenge Parthalan! What would Father say?"

"Uistean would have to accept it if it were for the good of the clan."

Shive rose from her seat abruptly, pulling her hand away from Ruairi's affectionate grasp.

"I won't challenge Parthalan! It would be the ultimate betrayal of our friendship for one another. At any rate, this is an absurd conversation. Father is still alive, so the question of the succession won't arise for many years to come."

Ruairi decided to be completely honest with his cousin. Rising from the settle to stand before her, he grasped Shive by both shoulders and gazed deeply into her violet eyes. . "My dear, don't you see, the truth is I need a strong ally in the MacDermot clan. You're the only person who can bring them all together to achieve that for me. Not your father, not your cousin. You."

For a moment Shive was convinced Ruairi would kiss her. She almost wished he would. She had always wondered.... But at the last minute, he pushed her away firmly, and pounded his fist against the wall.

"Damn it, Shive, you are just too lovely for your own good.  You look at me like that, and I forget all my good resolutions, and the very reason I've come there. You must wed, and soon. But if you choose one of your cousins here at Skeard, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. I can't force you to marry Tiernan O'Hara. But it would be helping me in my quest for the high kingship if you did," he told her candidly.

"You're my cousin as well, Ruairi, on my mother's side. We could marry, could we not?" Shive asked, feeling a small glimmer of girlish hope kindle again in her for the first time in years.

Ruairi sighed and fingered the hilt of his short sword in frustration. Then he shoook his head, his warm, passionate expression chilling to a mask of distant regret.  "I'm selfish, Shive, I admit, but not that selfish. I need what's best for me, but I won't gain it at your expense if I can possibly help it.

"Don't you think I wish I could marry you? There have been some days and nights since you came of age when I've wanted to say the hell with duty and power, that I want to be with you every  moment for the rest of our lives. But I know no matter how hard you would try to be a good wife and companion to me in every way, that our destinies will force us to separate. I'm know we've been tender with one another, affectionate, but that isn't the same as love. I'm sure you don't love me as a woman loves a man. You deserve better than me, even if I am to be high king. You deserve more than a safe, comfortable marriage to a man already wed to his country, and to his own overweening ambitions.

"Ever since I was old enough to sit astride a horse, I've known deep in my heart that my destiny is to become ard ri, high king of all Ireland. I shall unite the five great provinces, starting with Connaught and Ulster, then Munster, and finally Meath and Leinster in the east. I shall be the stuff of legend, greater even than Brian Boru.  I shall defy nature itself, Shive.  I shall make the sun rise in the west. It shall be the dawning of a glorious new age in our land, and I shall achieve it for all our people, not just myself, no matter what the cost."

Shive stared at her cousin, whose emerald green eyes now glowed fanatically. "Some things carry a very high price indeed, Ruairi. Are you sure that it will be a price you're willing to pay?"

"I am willing," he said, fingering his sword hilt as though it were his dearest possession. "Even if it means my life, I'll sacrifice it gladly to bring about my new vision of the future. It's a future that I want you and Tiernan to share with me as my closest friends and allies. My only regret is that I shall have to renounce you, my dear." He took her hand to kiss it lingeringly.

"I do love you, Shive, as a man loves the fresh air, the sunshine. But I'd never want you to change, make you unhappy because I tried to turn you into something you weren't. I know I could never make you happy, much as I've longed to try these past few years since you've matured into a woman grown. And if my plans are to succeed, I shall have to marry well, very well indeed. A dynastic marriage, with no room for love. And no room for a mistress. No matter how passionate I might feel about any woman, my greatest love is Erin, my homeland." He indicated the rolling, snow-covered landscape with a sweep of his hand, before closing the casement against the swirl of dancing flakes wafting in.

"I would never be suitable as the future king's consort. Is that what you're telling me?" Shive challenged boldly, looking directly into Ruairi's emerald eyes.

He shook his head in dejection. "No, you most certainly wouldn't. You already cause fights amongst half of my nobleman vying for your attentions every time you come to visit me at Lissatava. It certainly wouldn't be politic to marry a Helen of Troy, now would it, my girl?" Ruairi admitted with obvious resignation, his face revealing the deep regret he felt at the loss of the only woman he had ever loved unreservedly.

Ruairi stroked Shive's cheek gently, and tried moved away to a safe distance. But his strong impulses got the better of him, and unthinkingly he pulled Shive into his arms and kissed her until he was breathless.

Shive remained passive under the kiss, neither feeling repelled by it, nor drawn irresistibly to her cousin and constant childhood companion. Ruairi could sense her mere acceptance of his kiss, and released her.

"You see, you don't love me. And I'm afraid I love my land and power more than you, Shive. It's a sad admission to make, but it's true. So please, at least give me the satisfaction of seeing you well settled with another. A man who would respect and protect you. Marrying Tiernan O'Hara would not only solve your problems, but save countless lives in one stroke."

"But why Tiernan, of all people? Would not one of the younger O'Hara brothers do as well? He is, after all, a good ten years older than myself. And as I've said, if he's really as innocent as you claim, he would surely resent me for being Uistean MacDermot's daughter."

"You need him for protection, and you're the sort of woman he needs behind him. Intelligent, able, good with her hands. Moreover, he's the sort of man I need to support me. He's honest to a fault, brave, and utterly loyal to those he casts his lot in with. You deserve the best of the O'Haras, their leader. Tiernan is that man."

"It's curious that he's never married in all these years," Shive wondered aloud, then blushed as she realized she sounded far too interested in Tiernan as a man.

Ruairi relaxed in his seat, at ease now that Shive did not seem so indignant at his suggested alliance as she had only a moment before.  "There was someone about three years ago, but on the eve of their wedding she eloped with Muireadach O'Rourke, Tiernan's neighbor to the north. She died soon after. Tiernan is bitter about women generally, especially now that..."

"Go on," Shive prompted when she saw her cousin clamp his mouth shut and blush to the roots of his hair.

"Well, you'll no doubt hear of it, since it's the talk of the region. Orla, Muireadach's sister, has decided to try to improve relations between the two clans after the slight to Tiernan three years ago. While she had originally set her sights on the second brother, Lasaran, she's now in full pursuit of Tiernan. I tell you frankly, so there will be no misunderstanding or evasion between us, that it is not a marriage I could countenance as the future high king."

Shive stiffened. Ruairi's ambitions were really coming to the fore now. It was curious that she had never noticed this ruthless streak in him before. But then he had never revealed his innermost thoughts, nor ever needed her as an ally before.

She followed his thought processes to their logical conclusion. Now she sat down, her back stiff with anger.  "If they married, the O'Rourkes might also get ideas that with Tiernan's clan as his allies, Muireadach could press his own claim as high king at your expense.  But surely Tiernan and Muireadach wouldn't forgive each other so easily even if Orla did succeed in marrying one of the three O'Hara brothers. The political map around here does seem to be changing quite rapidly all of a sudden."

"You're sharp, coz, I give you that. Be careful you don't cut yourself one day," Ruairi warned quietly.

"So you think to solve all these problems for yourself by marrying me to Tiernan, even though you yourself are in love with me?"

Ruairi reached for her then, but she leapt up and backed away. She put the huge oak table between them as she quickly moved to the other side of the room, angry, and determined not to let him near her ever again. She was no man's plaything, not even this great warrior's.

"No, Ruairi, you started all this, so you can't play it both ways now. I will finish it. I will help you, because I have always loved you as a cousin and my best friend. I'll marry Tiernan O'Hara for the sake of my clan, and because I have nowhere else to go now that my other cousins are all proposing to me every time I find myself alone with one of them.

"In case you have any doubts about your important political alliances, I promise you, I shall look for my inheritance from my father when the time comes, and shall make Tiernan a good wife. But in exchange, you will promise never again speak to me of love. Nor will you ever see me again, except on important business, and never, ever alone."

"But Shive, I don't want to lose you completely! That would be sheer torture!" Ruairi pleaded, sounding truly desperate.

She shook her head, her rare eyes glittering with steely determination. "No, Ruairi, it cannot be. If I marry Tiernan, that will be the death of my old life, and the beginning of a new. I will never do anything to disgrace my husband or be unfaithful to him in thought or deed. I want to put the past five years of suspicion and hatred behind me, and enter Tiernan's home at Castlegarren as a hopeful bride. He was Fiachra's best friend for many years. That must testify to a good solid character."

"Yes, it does. They were closer than brothers. I can never recall a cross word between them."

She nodded. "Certainly from what I remember of him, he never seemed as bad as Father likes to paint him. But he's certainly not the kind of man who could tolerate another man making a fool of him over his wife. Nor would I wish to see your alliance with him and his clan break up because of me."

"True."

"You love me, I can see it. Or at least you think you do," she said with a sad smile. "When you meet the right woman, find real love, then you'll see all this has been youthful folly. I only hope you find love in whatever marriage you decide to make for the sake of your political ambitions. But until such time as you are safely wed, I wish you to keep your distance."

"Are you saying you don't trust me?" Ruairi asked, hurt.

"Aye, I am," she declared bluntly. "You are a man of strong passions, Ruairi. Though you've held them in check for quite some time, who's to say you could do so indefinitely? I refuse to be a Helen of Troy, as you called me before. After my marriage to Tiernan, we will be cordial friends and cousins, but no more.

"However, before we can make any further plans as to where I am to live, and what I am to do, you must go to my father, and get him to agree to your scheme. That may take a long time, and may indeed never happen at all. I must abide by his decision regarding my marriage, as you well know."

"Indeed."

She twisted her fingers together, suddenly struck by the enormity of what she was about to do by agreeing to her cousin's scheme.  "This marriage also affects the entire clan. There will no doubt be many others opposed to it once the word gets out, not least of all my four cousins. There will have to be consultations, and that will take time."

"Very well, I shall go to Uistean now at Rathnamagh, and send a messenger to let you know how he received the suggestion," he said, already heading for the door.

She watched him go with regret, relief, and a new sense of her own power and purpose. She was no man's plaything. And though it was certainly a man's world, she was sure she could make a difference to her homeland if she kept her head.  "Ruairi, one other thing?" Shive asked as he reached for the door latch.

"What's that, my dear?"

"If you do by some miracle get my father to agree, then the sooner the marriage takes place, the better. As I've said, the consultations will take time. Moreover, it will be Christmas soon, and the spring will be here before we know it. I would have the marriage sealed before the summer campaigning season starts. I couldn't bear it if any more lives were lost over Fiachra's death. It's not what my brother would have wanted."

Ruairi admired her for her clear thinking and selfless devotion to duty, and came over to ruffle her burgundy hair affectionately.

"You're right, Shive. The bloodshed has gone on long enough. I'll keep your sensible reasons in mind when I put my argument in front of Uistean. But the good Lord only knows how long it will take your father and the sept to consent."

"I pray it's soon, before more homes are destroyed and people left to starve or killed outright," Shive said with a barely suppressed shuddered.

Ruairi pulled her into his arms. She resisted slightly this time, but his lips were already covering hers. She allowed herself the small luxury of curiosity as his hands stroked down her back and his kiss deepened. But though she could sense his excitement, she was wooden in his arms, and merely felt relief when he finally released her.

Ruairi stroked her cheek tenderly, and vowed, "This is goodbye then, Cousin. But remember, if you ever need me for anything, you have only to ask."

"And you, Ruairi. Whatever it is, I shall try to grant it as your loyal kinsman, so long as it doesn't conflict with my duties to my own clan, or to my new husband, whoever he might be," Shive promised. She patted his hand and watched him disappear out the door of her workroom.

Shive exhaled a huge sigh once Ruairi had gone, and sat down in the window seat once again to gaze out at the heavy fall of snow. She knew in her heart that her father would never agree to Ruairi's proposal.

Once again she was forced to ponder her fate. The convent? Other cousins further abroad? A more suitable marriage? Going to live on her own in one of the clan's other castles?

She reflected once more on her marriage predicament. She was well aware that her own notions of suitability and her father's might be very different. She might end up with goodness only knew who for the sake of a political alliance.

For example, she had only ever met Muireadach O'Rourke once, but a more repellent individual she had never come across in all of her life. Oh, he was handsome, tall, broad, a great warrior with the scars to prove it, but his black eyes had glimmered with sinister intensity, almost like an eagle about to devour its prey. She had been only thirteen when he had come to Skeard to pay his respects to her family, just before Fiachra had been slain. Muireadach had tried to touch her... She had fought...

She pushed the terrible memory from her mind forcefully. Not all men were like Muireadach, she reminded herself. Though it was true that she did inhabit a largely male world, she had never been treated with such brutality before or since. She was able to hold her own in battle, and in the great hall where they all gathered together for harp-playing, story-telling and other forms of entertainment. Never once had anyone treated her with such disrespect apart from him.

But she knew she could not be content being married to just anyone. She had to have a husband whom she could admire and esteem.

Shive acknowledged to herself now, albeit reluctantly, that she had never met any man who had impressed her as much as Tiernan O'Hara. And though she still strongly suspected him of being her brother's murderer despite Ruairi's arguments to the contrary, her doubts were mainly due to the fact that no other suspects had presented themselves in the past five years since her poor brother had been killed.

But Shive was also willing to admit that Tiernan's entire clan had suffered great losses at the hands of her own sept, the MacDermots. If her father Uistean were, by some wild stretch of the imagination, to agree to the match, she was determined that she would do her utmost to restore their family fortunes. She would help the two clans to live side by side, if not amicably, then at least peacefully.

One final point which she considered to be in Tiernan's favor was that though he might well resent her, he was by far the strongest warlord in the area next to her own father. He would serve as an admirable protector.

In addition, as a great warrior, he would be away much of the time. She would have to be a wife, possibly even a mother, but her freedom would not be completely curtailed.

She was encouraged by Ruairi's information that Tiernan had had no use for women since he had been jilted three years before. Lots of men took concubines, having no interest in their wives except as political allies. If Tiernan was fond of the O'Rourke girl, he would leave Shive herself alone.

It wasn't that Tiernan wasn't handsome. In fact he was stunning in every way. But just because she might have to give her hand to him in marriage didn't mean she had to give herself to him body and soul, now did it? There was more to a marriage than love, romance and passion. There was companionship, understanding, compassion, friendship too.

This was, after all, a dynastic marriage. Surely a man like Tiernan would never fall in love with a hoyden like herself. She could do her best to modify her behavior so as not to cause anyone offense in her new home, if wed him she did. But she was so unworldly, unsophisticated compared to someone like Orla O'Rourke. It was ridiculous to even imagine that she could try to compete for his attentions.

But perhaps he was a man worth competing for, she suddenly thought with a mischievous grin. Shive recalled the way Tiernan had looked when she had last seen him five years before. She had always admired his raven black hair, which had fallen to his shoulders in shimmering ebony waves, and his deeply tanned skin, the result of so many years out campaigning every summer.

Tiernan had finely molded features, and unlike most Irishmen of her day, his beard and mustache were closely and neatly trimmed, and served to enhance his manly features. He had fine lips, and even teeth, which glinted pearly white the rare times he had ever smiled in her presence.

But it was Tiernan's eyes that were most arresting. They were an unusually dark blue, like the stormy sea, or a dark winter's night, Shive mused fancifully.

Shive recalled that Tiernan had always held her at distance as Fiachra's much younger sister, though he had always been kind to her. He could not have changed that much in the past five years, could he? Surely Ruairi would never have suggested the match had he any doubts that she would be treated well in her new home.

Shive also recollected with some embarrassment that she had had a childish amour for Tiernan many years before. But at the tender age of twelve or thirteen, what girl wouldn't have fantasized about him? He had towered over her own tall lanky frame by at least a foot, was built of solid rippling muscle, and had bested her brother in every mock fight they had ever engaged in.

But then, she had often beaten Fiachra too, she remember with a small smile as she recalled the secret training sessions her brother, and her youngest cousins Mahon and Ernin had allowed her to participate in behind her father's back.

"Learn how to fight for what you want," Fiachra had always advised. "If it's worth having, it's worth fighting for."

Shive admitted to herself that compared to Ruairi or her cousins, Tiernan O'Hara was the most handsome and powerful man in the region by a long way.

But Shive shuddered as she recollected those eyes, so dark, so all-seeing, so perceptive that they seemed to stare into her very soul the few times he had ever paid any close attention to her. For the most part though, when she had been growing up, he had looked her with casual indifference. How much more terrifying those remarkable eyes would be glaring at her with hatred as a result of all that had happened between their families since they'd last met.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Shive moved over to her loom to weave a few more rows, and tried to push such ridiculous fancies from her mind. For one thing, her father would never agree to the marriage anyway, so there was no point in worrying about something that would never occur. There was the cloth bolt to finish, dinner to be seen to, and several books of household accounts to go over before they could start getting things organized for their Christmas celebrations.

Shive tugged off her thick sheepskin jerkin and left it on the back of her chair as she ventured down into the cozier kitchen. Rolling up her sleeves, she joined her cousins' servants in helping to prepare the meal for the rest of the family.

Normally an aristocratic Irishwoman would never have soiled her hands with manual labor, but Shive was a firm believer in leading by example. Anything she expected the servants to do, she ought to be able to do herself. Actively running the kitchens also ensured that there was no waste or peculation of the household moneys, which she had kept a watchful eye on ever since she had been old enough to add and subtract.

Shive tried to keep her mind off her conversation with Ruairi as she stirred the venison stew and added more seasonings. She reminded herself that the wedding would never take place if her father could help it.

All the same, she couldn't help wondering as she chopped vegetables and sliced bread, what it would be like to see the handsome and enigmatic Tiernan O'Hara again.

 

THE HART AND THE HARP

Sorcha MacMurrough

Ireland, 1146

ISBN 13: 978-1-58345-030-7

Word Count= 127,000

Rating: Mild to moderate sensuality

Price $4.99

Reviews:

Shive MacDermot knows that marriage to Tiernan O'Hara could end the five-year feud her father has waged on the O'Hara clan, but she is equally sure her father would never agree to such a match, especially since he claims Tiernan murdered Shive's brother. When Uistean gives the go-ahead, Shive is surprised and relieved at the thought of ending the bloody feud. Not likely, as it turns out. Uistean still wants to exact revenge on Tiernan and the O'Haras, even at the expense of his daughter, for whom he cares very little.

    Tiernan and Shive marry, and she sets out to win her new husband's respect, and hopefully his affection. She begins to organize his home and lands, and earns the admiration of all those in the O'Hara clan, but her husband's trust remains elusive.

Shive soon realizes her new husband could never have murdered his best friend, and with dawning horror, also realizes the murderer must have been someone from her own clan.

Guilt and a sense of responsibility overtake her, and in an effort to right the wrongs done to Tiernan for the past five years, she embarks on a campaign to save him from her crazed father.

    More dangerous to Tiernan and the O'Hara clan, however, is the menacing Muireadach O'Rourke, who will stop at nothing in his quest to become the ruler of Ireland. Tiernan and his clan are standing in his way, and Shive is determined to save Tiernan, even if it means losing his love forever.

THE HART AND THE HARP is an action packed, plot-driven novel filled with adventure and danger. Although Shive and Tiernan are the main characters, Shive is clearly at the forefront -- a brave, intelligent woman with a fierce heart and loads of courage.

Tiernan is the weaker of the two and at times I found myself wondering why Tiernan was her "ideal" mate. There is almost a role reversal in this story line, which I find both intriguing and refreshing. With such intensity in its plot lines, there is little need to focus on other characters, although the development of the secondary characters is well done.

THE HART AND THE HARP is not for the faint of heart -- but it will please those looking for a rollicking adventure and a bigger than life heroine.

Astrid Kinn

Romance Reviews Today

Enormously Entertaining

This is another fantastically clever romantic suspense novel from this prolific and talented writer. From the first sentence we are plunged into the world of twelfth-century Irish power politics in which nothing is as it seems. The marriage of convenience has been done before, but never quite as sensually as this.

I admire the hero enormously for his courage, fortitude and obvious love for the heroine despite all the difficulties they must face in learning to trust one another. His stubborn pride does keep them apart, but Shive  the heroine too has reasons of her own for avoiding admitting she loves Tiernan body and soul. This novel shows that where there is true love, it will find a way. Exuberant and joyous, it is a thoroughly enjoyable read. - Evelyn Trimborn