Redemption - Leon Uris [319]
“I can’t bring myself to making an alliance with the daughter of Frederick Weed.”
“Conor never made love to her!” Rory shot out, hard and abruptly. The effect was resounding. When the silence had settled down into the tattered rug, eyes were no longer meeting eyes.
“You make the call, Mother,” Theo said. “I’m overdue for a meeting with Lord Cornelius. He may have a message on some of our prisoners.”
Theo, not the most graceful of men, stumbled up the ladder onto the roof. Instead of roaring with excitement over the budding plans, Atty seemed almost mean-spirited.
“How would you know about Conor and Caroline Hubble?” she asked.
“Conor told me the first part of their story when he was in New Zealand. Jeremy told me the rest of it, including the rumors about yourself and Conor.”
Rory was in the shadows near the window frame. It was a sight she’d relished and longed for, and it startled her. For that instant it was Conor standing there. This had been their place for over four years. Oh, the lovings and free-flowing danger of it all! And young Rory, his head working like Conor’s, a master of the game.
Rory peered down to the street, brain dinnlin’, same courage, same daring. Like Conor, he was now fixed on his mission. In this gray world things could go wrong so quickly. One day in Dublin Castle and the next on the run and all that that rotten life entails.
“Don’t do it, Rory,” she said. “Once you’re in you never get out. After a time you lose count of all the bombings and knee-cappings and killings and years of rotting behind bars.”
“You two found a world, right in this room,” Rory said. “Would you change any of that?”
“This is our country. You’ve a land of your own.”
“I’ll go when it’s my time to go,” he said.
“Goddamn you, you didn’t hear a word I said,” she spouted angrily.
“I need to be here,” Rory said. “Don’t ask me to go again. I didn’t swim all the way from New Zealand to this safe room to slink off. You seem to forget, Brodhead killed my brother Jeremy with his fucking stupidity. Think I can live a rich full life by tucking tail and fleeing? I’ve got to finish this, Atty, I’ve got to finish this.”
Atty was fumbling her lines and her thoughts. Seeing him up here had derailed her mourning, sparked a springtime. She never thought it would come again. And Lord, she didn’t want it from him.
They stood on either side of the bed until the mattress became a third party. Don’t even think about it, you bastard, she thought.
“We seem to have a real talent for antagonizing each other. Either mutual repulsion or mutual attraction.”
“And a silver tongue to go with it,” she said. “I’ve seen that leer from the lads all my life. You do it better than most.”
“By God, Atty, you’re afraid of me,” Rory said. “Or is it that you’re afraid of yourself? Don’t count yourself totally innocent. I know the look, too.”
“I’m old enough to be your mother.”
“You’re afraid of me, Atty. You’re afraid I’m going to make you enjoy it. You don’t want to enjoy it. You want to live forever wrapped in martyrdom.”
“God, Rory, you’re a real bastard, aren’t you? Am I not allowed to be shocked by your resemblance? Are you that damned arrogant?”
“Arrogant to what? Give me one more come-on and I’ll forget I’m a British officer and a gentleman.”
Yes or no, Atty girl? He looks through you the same way Conor did. It’s highly unlikely he doesn’t know how to take care of a woman.
Atty played her next lines to slice his throat. “I don’t want an imitation Conor Larkin. I had the real thing, and one dead Conor is worth a dozen live Rorys.”
Rory reflexively grabbed her arm with unquestioned power and shook her.
“Well,” she said, “excuse me for making any comparison. The difference between you and Conor is already quite clear.”
He let her go. “I’ll be back here Sunday at three o’clock. Make your decision. If you have any fucking brains you’ll put your claws in and make an alliance with Caroline Hubble.