Page 98
Story: Control's Undoing
“Who was that?”Xavier didn’t attempt to replicate the pronunciation.
“The King of Leinster.He’d been deposed, and to get his crown back, he made a deal, first with Norman mercenaries, then with the Earl of Pembrooke.That fecking gobshite Diarmait even married his daughter to Pembrooke.”
Xavier had been merely listening, but now he was processing what Colum was saying.
“Someone close to, uh, Diarmait,” Xavier stumbled a little over the pronunciation, “knew he was planning to go to the English for help getting his crown.”
“Exactly!”Colum’s cheeks were creased, he was smiling so widely.“They knew Strongbow—the Earl of Pembrooke—would pledge Leinster to England.They knew, well mayhap suspected, that the Irish way of life, and the Irish language, wouldn’t survive, so they wrote down what was important—the hymns and prayers people needed and used every day.”
“Mon Dieu,” Xavier said, struck by the revelations.He didn’t know much about Irish history, but even he could see Colum’s deductions were fascinating.Then something occurred to him.
“Wait a moment.You keep talking about a manuscript from the eleventh century.But you said this one is from the tenth century—around 905.”
Colum blinked in surprise.“You were…listening.”
“Of course.”
“I mean really listening.”
Xavier felt guilty for not paying better attention from the start.
“It’s just that…the only people who really listen to me are…were…Franco and my sister Josephine.”
Xavier took a step closer, sliding his arm around Colum’s waist.“I love listening to you.I want to hear everything you know about every treasure in the archive.”
Colum slid the shelf back into the cabinet and closed the doors.“You’ll regret saying that,” he said with a laugh.
“No,” Xavier assured him.“I won’t.”
“Let’s, uh… Sure, then let’s go to the sitting room.”
Xavier slid his hand into the back pocket of Colum’s pants as they walked, giving his ass a little squeeze.
Part of Xavier was grimly aware of what was happening downstairs.What Annie was putting herself through in order to get information.
But if he thought about it too much, he’d run down there and snatch her up, carry her away to protect her sweet, gentle heart from having to return to the darkness she’d fought to escape.
Not that she’d let him, but the urge was there.
Colum stepped out into the hall.
A gloved hand jerked Colum to the side, Xavier’s fingers sliding out of Colum’s pocket.For just a moment, confusion held Xavier suspended.
Then a black-clad figure stepped into view, his face covered with a balaclava, and adrenaline flooded Xavier’s system.
“They’re stalling,”Annie said, wiping her knife on the handkerchief Agravain handed her.“I’m going to have to actually hurt him,” she said with regret.
Right now, the damage was superficial.Painful, but superficial.A broken nose, some tidy cuts along his arms, and a small stab wound to the meat of his shoulder muscle.
The man was breathing hard, but he didn’t seem fazed.
“These two are professionals,”Agravain said.
Two.
Two.
“They’re professionals,” Annie breathed.
“The King of Leinster.He’d been deposed, and to get his crown back, he made a deal, first with Norman mercenaries, then with the Earl of Pembrooke.That fecking gobshite Diarmait even married his daughter to Pembrooke.”
Xavier had been merely listening, but now he was processing what Colum was saying.
“Someone close to, uh, Diarmait,” Xavier stumbled a little over the pronunciation, “knew he was planning to go to the English for help getting his crown.”
“Exactly!”Colum’s cheeks were creased, he was smiling so widely.“They knew Strongbow—the Earl of Pembrooke—would pledge Leinster to England.They knew, well mayhap suspected, that the Irish way of life, and the Irish language, wouldn’t survive, so they wrote down what was important—the hymns and prayers people needed and used every day.”
“Mon Dieu,” Xavier said, struck by the revelations.He didn’t know much about Irish history, but even he could see Colum’s deductions were fascinating.Then something occurred to him.
“Wait a moment.You keep talking about a manuscript from the eleventh century.But you said this one is from the tenth century—around 905.”
Colum blinked in surprise.“You were…listening.”
“Of course.”
“I mean really listening.”
Xavier felt guilty for not paying better attention from the start.
“It’s just that…the only people who really listen to me are…were…Franco and my sister Josephine.”
Xavier took a step closer, sliding his arm around Colum’s waist.“I love listening to you.I want to hear everything you know about every treasure in the archive.”
Colum slid the shelf back into the cabinet and closed the doors.“You’ll regret saying that,” he said with a laugh.
“No,” Xavier assured him.“I won’t.”
“Let’s, uh… Sure, then let’s go to the sitting room.”
Xavier slid his hand into the back pocket of Colum’s pants as they walked, giving his ass a little squeeze.
Part of Xavier was grimly aware of what was happening downstairs.What Annie was putting herself through in order to get information.
But if he thought about it too much, he’d run down there and snatch her up, carry her away to protect her sweet, gentle heart from having to return to the darkness she’d fought to escape.
Not that she’d let him, but the urge was there.
Colum stepped out into the hall.
A gloved hand jerked Colum to the side, Xavier’s fingers sliding out of Colum’s pocket.For just a moment, confusion held Xavier suspended.
Then a black-clad figure stepped into view, his face covered with a balaclava, and adrenaline flooded Xavier’s system.
“They’re stalling,”Annie said, wiping her knife on the handkerchief Agravain handed her.“I’m going to have to actually hurt him,” she said with regret.
Right now, the damage was superficial.Painful, but superficial.A broken nose, some tidy cuts along his arms, and a small stab wound to the meat of his shoulder muscle.
The man was breathing hard, but he didn’t seem fazed.
“These two are professionals,”Agravain said.
Two.
Two.
“They’re professionals,” Annie breathed.
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