Karen Robards - Dark of the Moon

Rory looked up from buttoning the last button on his breeches. A grin split his face. "Shy, is he? You got something we've not seen before, O'Malley?"

"Maybe he's got two!"

"Or maybe it's so small that he's ashamed to let it out!"

"You can't eat in wet clothes, O'Malley. Mrs. McFee won't let you into the house." Liam's voice was reasonable.

"The clothes ain't bad, O'Malley, truly. Look at me." Willie had pulled on a pair of Cormac's too-big breeches and shirt. He was rolling up the legs of the breeches as he spoke. All of the younger d'Arcy brothers topped both Willie and Caitlyn by more than a head, but Cormac was the shortest and slightest of the three. Nevertheless, his breeches and shirt were still miles too big for Willie, who was about the same height and weight as Caitlyn.

"I'll not be changing." Her eyes were as uncompromising as her voice as she fixed die gang of them with a challenging stare.

Liam shrugged. "Suit yourself. You'll miss supper, but that's your loss, not ours."

"I'll not be changing."

"Fair enough. The rest of you, come on in and let's eat. There's work to do after the meal. O'Malley, since you're not hungry, you can start unloading the cart. Most of it's for the sheep barn, feed and such. The sheep barn's the one furthest from the house. The saddle and brushes go in the stable, which is where you just came from. The things that go in the house, like salt and honey, just leave by the stoop. We'll sort everything out after supper."

With chortles and jests being exchanged between Rory and Cormac pertaining to O'Malley's equipment or lack of it, the gang trooped into the house. Caitlyn, soaked to the bone except for her shoulders and shirt front, was left outside. She was hungry, but not for anything was she going to strip off in front of them. If she was to preserve her secret, she couldn't.

Fifteen minutes later she had hauled two huge sacks of seed into the bam and had just rolled a big barrel of salt to within about a foot of the back stoop. Straightening, she wiped the perspiration off her brow. The unaccustomed physical labor had made her hot despite the increasing cool of the night and her wet clothes.

The back door opened. Cormac and Rory stepped out on the stoop together. She looked up at them warily. As they saw her, identical devilish twinkles came into both pairs of hazel eyes.

"You missed a good meal, O'Malley. Mrs. McFee's cooking's enough to make the angels sing in heaven."

"You often go around missing meals for no good reason? No wonder you're so litde. You'll never be much of a man at the rate you're going. A leprechaun, maybe."

"I'm man enough already to take you on, Cormac d'Arcy. I already took you down in the garden there, and I'm ready to do it again anytime."

Rory whistled, still grinning. "Pretty big talk for a scrawny monkey, wouldn't you say, brother?"

"I would indeed, brother. So you think you can best me in a fight, monkey?"

"Quicker'n I can spit." Caitlyn spat on the grass at her feet to illustrate. She was small, but she was tough and wiry and possessed of a fiery temper that was enough to make many a lad bigger than she back down. The reputation that temper had earned her had saved her from many a fight. But of course these d'Arcys had no notion of her legendary rages, so her reputation would not help her now.

"That quick, eh?"

"You can't fight that halfling, Cormac. Connor won't like it." Rory was speaking seriously now.

"I know it. But maybe I can tan his backside for him. He's a smart-mouthed little cockerel."

Outrage heated Caitlyn's cheeks. Tan her backside…! Rory and Cormac jumped down from the stoop in a single movement. Caitlyn felt a combination of fury and panic as they closed in on her, laughter curling their mouths. They were two together, and they were far bigger than she. Faced with such a situation in Dublin, she'd have cut and run. But here there was nowhere to go, and anyway, she couldn't back down now. They'd bully her forever. Her only chance of surviving with a relatively whole skin and her pride intact was to launch a surprise attack.

She charged Cormac, punching him lightning fast in the nose and then butting him in the stomach with her head. Grunting with pain, he staggered backward, his hand clapped over his nose. Blood was already beginning to gush from beneath his sheltering hand.

"You little bastard!" Cormac took his hand away from his nose to see blood all over it. The grin left his face, to be replaced by scowling anger. Caitlyn, fuming herself, stood facing him in a crouch, fists doubled. She would stand her ground or die in the attempt.

"Look out, little brother, the bantam has already bloodied your nose! No telling what kind of damage he might do to the rest of you," Rory chortled, standing back. Cormac's mouth tightened at the teasing. Caitlyn could see that what had started out as a joke was no longer amusing-anger glittered in Cormac's eyes. Blood still ran from his nose. For all his gangly build, he looked a formidable opponent. He was near a foot taller and stones heavier than she. But for Caitlyn fury was fast banishing caution. She could feel it building up inside her, familiar and comforting.

"Still think you can tan my backside, d'Arcy?" Caitlyn sneered. "It'd take a better man than you or your bloody brothers!"

"We'll see about that, you insolent litde beggar!" Cormac charged, his arms closing about Caitlyn's waist, lifting her off the ground. She fought wildly as he turned her over in midair, landing some well-placed kicks and blows that made him grunt with pain and dance to keep the most vulnerable parts of his body away from her. She managed to grab his crotch on the way down and twisted that vulnerable area as hard as she could. He yelped, cursing. Caitlyn went flying through the air to land with the force of a cannonball on her belly in the thick grass. All the wind was knocked out of her. She could only lay stunned as Cormac straddled her back. He lifted the tails of her coat, giving several hard slaps to the soggy backside of her breeches. She didn't have enough wind to curse him, though the blows stung badly. Gasping for air, she swung wildly at him as he turned her over onto her back. Taking no chances with those flying fists, Cormac pinned her wrists to the ground. If looks could have killed he would have died on the spot, but he was grinning in the face of her spitting rage instead, his good humor restored by the success of his revenge.

"Ah, he's naught but a lad, Cormac. Let him up." Rory walked over and looked down at Caitlyn. Heaving her body in an attempt to dislodge Cormac proved useless. He was far too heavy for her to buck off. She lay stiff with fury, spewing out a stream of curses that should have shamed the devil himself. Cormac merely chuckled.

"He's soggy as day-old cake, Rory. My breeches are all wet from sitting on him."

"Well, he wouldn't change."

"Do you suppose he's shy? Or does he have some sort of deformity he can't bear anyone to see?" Devilishness sparkled out of Cormac's eyes. Catching the spirit of the thing, Rory grinned back at his brother.

"We should find out. We'd be doing Conn a favor if this lad turned out to be a freak. Or maybe he's got the mark of the devil on him somewhere. On his backside, say."

"That's a possibility. Or, wet as he is, he could catch the fever and die. We'd be doin' him a favor too."

"Aye, that we would." They nodded solemnly at each other. Caitlyn, catching the drift of this, began to struggle violently, calling them every filthy name she had ever learned on Dublin's streets. They were laughing as Rory squatted to keep her wrists pinned while Cormac straddled her ankles. Caitlyn shrieked imprecations at Cormac's head as he reached up to untie the lacing of her breeches. She writhed wildly but couldn't evade his hands. The worst panic she had ever known in her life seized her.