The Warrior's wager: A Celtic Romance Novel (Warriors of Eriu Book 2)

by Mia Pride

  “I am fine, Papa.”

  “But… the babe?” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Is your babe safe?”

  She gasped and looked deep into her father’s hazel eyes, the lines of a lifetime of worry crinkling at the corners. Her heart softened, and she frowned. He knew. Of course, he did. He and her mama always knew.

  Swallowing hard, she nodded. “He is fine, Papa, but his father is not.” She turned to run back into the forest, and with the loud pounding of large footsteps following behind her, she knew every man in her family followed. Good, for once they reached him, she would collapse from exhaustion and nerves, being no help at all.

  After a few treacherous moments that seemed to go on forever, they finally reached his side. All the men in her family gathered closely, kneeling to turn Alastar over and assess his wound. Tuathal ripped his shirt off and bound it tightly over the already soaked through pieces of Elwynna’s dress.

  Elwynna sat silently with tears rolling down her dirty, yet still sickeningly bonny, face as Tuathal instructed the other men to help him carry Alastar home carefully. “You did well to bind it right away, Aislin, but he needs stitches… and a miracle,” his voice growled. He must have suddenly noticed Daniel’s body on the floor, surrounded by blood, an arrow protruding from his chest. “He did this?”

  Aislin leaned over and panted to catch her breath, but nodded. “He came up behind Alastar. I got him with my arrow. But… not soon enough.” The words tore a sob from her, and she fell to the ground, the impact of everything that had happened suddenly hitting her all at once. How would she survive the pain of her husband’s proclaimed love for another woman, followed by his potential death? She covered her face with her hands and cringed when she pulled them back abruptly, noticing they were covered with her blood. She must truly look awful, but could not bring herself to care a jot for herself.

  “Elwynna? Is that you?” Jeoffrey frowned and looked down at her, and suddenly all the men gaped as if only just noticing her. She nodded and continued to sob, her torn white linen dress floating around her crossed legs. Jeoffrey crinkled his brow and put his hands on his hips, clearly wanting answers, but he thought the better of it in the moment. He must have known the lass quite well back at their old war camp with his father, Elim. Of course, he knew her well. He was Alastar’s best mate and if Alastar had truly loved her, or still did love her, Jeoffrey would know.

  “You are hurt, as well?” he added with sudden realization. She nodded again and gripped her bleeding wound. He tore off his shirt and handed it to her. “Here. Hold this to your wound. I will carry you back.” Jeoffrey scooped Elwynna up just as Aislin felt herself being picked up quickly, as well. She knew it was her papa. She could smell his familiar spicy musk scent and she instantly buried her face into the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around him for support.

  “’Twill all be all right, mo leanbh,” he soothed, but she just cried harder.

  Nay. Nothing would ever be all right again.

  Chapter Twelve

  “’Tis a nasty wound. I can stitch it up, aye, but I cannot promise he will survive.” The words of the healer, Maggie, repeated in her ears for three days. Alastar had not awoken. The wound had not hit any major organs which was the only reason for his survival thus far, but he only just barely held on to life. His skin was sticky with sweat and pale from blood loss. His pulse was weak and his breathing was shallow. Maggie had come a few times per day to check on Alastar and change his dressings when needed, but other than that, Aislin had been left alone with her husband as people came and went to visit, drop off food, and offer support.

  Word had spread quite quickly that she was with child, which only added to the feeling of complete helplessness and the sympathetic looks from visitors. Women came by with piles of swaddling blankets and wee gowns, but she could barely nod or smile her thanks. Nothing seemed real, certainly not her marriage anymore. Nay, in her mind, it was already over. She hoped dearly he would recover with all haste, then she would leave and move back to her mother’s house. With the support of her parents, Treasa, and Eoin, she would raise this child alone.

  When they had arrived back to their home three days ago, Elwynna had been stitched up, given a bath and a hot meal, but by the next day when she was showing clear signs of improvement, Aislin sent her away. The lass had tried to kindly talk to her and, though Aislin could find no flaw in the lass’s manners, it only angered her more. She was this perfect woman with perfect hair and perfect skin and a perfect mouth full of perfectly white teeth, and when her eyes settled on Alastar’s prone body with shimmering unshed tears, that had been enough to make Aislin cast her out. There was no room in this home for two women who loved the same man. Elwynna could have him as soon as he was well and Aislin would walk away, never looking back, but right now, she had to do her cursed wifely duty and tend to her bastard of a husband. After all, if he perished, her child would have no father.

  All her will to function had left her body. The babe sucked all her energy away and heartbreak took away all her strength. She could not bring herself to hunt, and she saw no reason to continue to learn to cook or sew if she was simply going to move back in with her mother. With all the food and garments the tuath had been dropping off for her, she had no reason to even move. So, she had not.

  Aside from using what little strength she had left to drag her bed back across the room, so it was no longer pushed next to Alastar’s, she simply lay in bed with the curtains drawn, feeling her babe quicken now and then as she rubbed her belly. The sounds of the fire popping filled their small round house. She slept away much of the day, often waking only when someone knocked at the door. Everyone mistook her listlessness as fear for her husband’s life. While that was partially accurate, nobody knew the entire truth. She was heartbroken in a way nobody could understand.

  A knock came at the door and she sighed. “Enter,” she hollered. She wanted to remain kind and grateful for the help of her people, but every hour another person came by and it really was tiresome. The dark curtains around her bed had been a blessing, enveloping her in her own private darkness while others quietly visited and left her to her grief. Until now.

  The curtains flew open and she blinked as light infiltrated her space. “I will not allow you to do this, Lin.” Jeoffrey reached down and pulled her to a sitting position. “You do not fool me. Mayhap everyone else, but not me.” She growled and scowled. He only scoffed and scratched his head awkwardly.

  “Elwynna fairs well. She is staying with Maggie and Àdhamh. ‘Twas easier for Maggie to tend her that way, and Elwynna now has a companion.”

  Aislin jumped off her bed and curled her hands into tight fists. “I do not give a rat’s arse where that husband-stealing bitch is staying! She needs a companion? Why? Is she not leaving as soon as she is well?”

  Jeoffrey shrank back and covered his face. Smart man. He did have a feisty wee wife. Mayhap Clarice had done well to teach him that a flinch of fear was healthy for a man now and then. “So, I was correct. ‘Tis Elwynna that has you so distraught.”

  “You think?” she growled in response.

  “Aislin,” he sighed and patted the bed. If he expected her to sit next to him and allow herself to be placated, he deserved a swift kick to the bollocks. Now everyone was on Elwynna’s side? Protecting her feelings?

  “Och, so she can just show up with her sweet smile and perfect manners, everything that I am not, and simply become more beloved of my own people than I am? More beloved to even my own husband?”

  “Lin, you are talking nonsense. I am not certain what happened that day or what you think you saw, but—”

  “Get out of my house. Now,” she said in a low threatening voice, pointing toward the door. “You come to my house and defend that wee bitch and your cursed best mate… but you know nothing!” she roared.

  “I know he is madly in love with you.”

  That made her cackle like a madwoman. Had she lost her mind at some point? Ma
yhap so. Her face still hurt from the cut across her cheek, but it had begun to scab over nicely. Unfortunately it began to pull and crack open again when she spoke too frequently. “He loves Elwynna,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “You are wrong, Lin.”

  “I heard him tell her so, Jeoff. He said it straight to her face. She said she loved him and he said, ‘I love you too, Elwynna.’ I heard him.” She crossed her arms and sat down hard on the bed, causing Jeoff to bounce with the force.

  “I cannot believe such a thing,” he responded softly. “You heard incorrectly.”

  “I did not. And, I am certain she was about to kiss him just before Daniel stabbed him in the back. I did not imagine a thing, Jeoff. Alastar betrayed me and when he is healed, I am leaving him.”

  Jeoffrey’s eyes grew wide as he absorbed all that she had told him. “But, your child will have—”

  “He will have me and his father, just not together.” She shook her head and gripped her abdomen. “He does not even know he is to be a father.”

  Jeoffrey nodded slowly. “I assumed as much. Had he known, I would have known. He will be very happy when he finds out, Lin.”

  “I know,” she agreed.

  “I do not know what to say about what you saw and heard.”

  “Then say nothing, Jeoff. He does not deserve your defense of him.”

  Jeoffrey looked as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Standing up, he ran a hand nervously through his dark hair and looked over at his best mate lying still across the room in his bed. “He is my brother, Lin. I cannot lose him.”

  “You won’t,” she said softly. She would lose him, had already lost him, but Jeoffrey would always have him.

  “I may. I’ve seen men die of lesser wounds.” He walked slowly over to Alastar and sat down on a stool by the bed.

  “He will not die, Jeoff. I won’t allow it,” she urged.

  She saw him nod from across the room but did not dare move closer. She had not gotten close to Alastar once since his injury. It would hurt too much to stare down at the man who had fully awakened her to the joy of love and making love. She would remember all those nights he held her close, whispering sweet words in her ear, making her laugh with his clever wit, or melting her heart with his charming smile. He had fully infiltrated her every defense. She knew, even then, it was a mistake, but she had allowed it anyway. Nay, that was not true. There was no allowing of anything. She never stood a chance against him.

  Apparently, Alastar knew how to make the lassies fall in love with him and once they did, the lassies could not undo the spell. Elwynna was evidence of that. She loved him just as desperately as Aislin did, but he had chosen Elwynna.

  Mayhap it was her stubborn streak or her need to control her own life. Elwynna seemed soft-spoken and amenable, exactly what most men wanted. No doubt Alastar would find her willing spirit refreshing after dealing with Aislin’s fiery spirit all these moons. Nay, she could not look at him. Just like the deep wound on his chest, her love was a gaping wound and any wrong move would tear it wide open all over again. With a stifled sob, she turned around and walked slowly back to her bed, pulling the curtains back around herself to give Jeoffrey privacy with Alastar. As for Aislin, the only way to escape her pathetic existence was to sleep, and she welcomed every moment of it.

  ***

  His eyes fluttered open and the pain gripping him from the inside out caused him to bellow loudly, disturbing the otherwise peaceful quiet surrounding him. Where was he? What had happened? The last thing he remembered, he was in the forest with Elwynna. She had been hurt and distraught. She had appeared in the middle of the battle like an apparition from his past and just when he had thought she was just that, she had been struck inadvertently by the blade of one of her own tribesmen. She screamed from the pain and had begun to fall before he rushed forward to catch her.

  He needed to get her away from danger and seek answers. Why had she come? And why would her father, Mal Mac Rochride, allow her to come along to battle in the first place, let alone wander aimlessly? None of it had made sense and it still did not in the haze of his pain-addled mind. She had said she heard he was here, and that she wished to speak with him. Who would have told her such a thing?

  He had been holding her in his arms, desperate to seek help for her wounds when he saw… Aislin. Shite. Aislin had seen him holding Elwynna in his arms. What else had she seen? Oh, gods nay… what had she heard? An unexpected searing pain had shot through his chest, causing him to drop Elwynna and go black. He remembered nothing after that.

  Cracking an eye lid open, he tried to look around, but his temples throbbed and even the dim flicker from the low-burning hearth made his head scream with pain as his eyes adjusted to the light. How long had he had his eyes closed? He tried to sit up and bellowed again. By the gods! Was he on fire? What was causing that awful pain? It was the same pain he had felt before he blacked out in the forest, and it threatened to take him under again.

  “Lin?” he groaned. Where was Aislin? He turned his head and only saw his bed. Hers had been removed from his side. Turning his head the other way, he confirmed that it was not on the other side of him, either. “Lin?”

  He heard shuffling from the other side of the room and then his wife sat down on a stool next to him silently.

  “Lin, is that you?”

  She nodded. “Aye. You were injured, Alastar. Be careful. Here, drink this.”

  She put a foul-smelling liquid to his lips and he batted it away. “I want nay poppy juice. I cannot stand the stuff.”

  “’Twill not be as bad as your chest wound.” She tried to make him drink it again and he shook his head.

  She gave up with a shrug and put the mug back down on the floor by his bed, then folded her hands in her lap. She gave up much too easily. That was not the Aislin he knew. His Aislin would holler at him until he gave in and drank the disgusting juice. His Aislin would kiss him and ask him how he was feeling. This Aislin showed only an adequate amount of concern for perhaps a stranger, but certainly not the concern of a wife. Mayhap his injury was not as bad as it felt.

  “How long have I been in bed?” he asked and reached for her folded hands. She moved her hands away and his fell limply on her leg. She moved her hand away? Something was terribly wrong.

  “For a sennight. You were stabbed through the chest with a sword by Daniel. I killed him, but not in time. We thought you would not make it.” There. There was a quiver in her voice. She tried to hide it, but he heard it. The question was why would his loving wife pretend to feel complacent toward him? She was not one prone to tears, but certainly the near death of her husband should provoke more emotion?

  Then it hit him. She must have seen and heard all that had happened between him and Elwynna. She must think him the worst of men. It was a wonder she had not finished him off herself. He should be cursing Daniel for trying to cut him down but all he could do was curse himself for the bastard she must believe him to be.

  “Lin, I love you.” She flinched at his words and batted his hand off her lap before standing swiftly, stepping away from his side.

  “I… I will go fetch Maggie to let her know you are awake. She can check your bandages.”

  She began to back away and he grabbed her wrist. “Lin. Can you show me nay concern?”

  She frowned deeply and jerked her wrist from his grip. “I have been showing you concern for the past sennight, Alastar. Mayhap you would not have been struck in the back by Daniel if you had not been busy stabbing me in the back with that… that… lass.” Her words were soft. Too soft. She should be screaming at him and pummeling him., not whispering and walking away.

  “How is Elwynna?” he asked, and knew in that moment what a terrible question it was to ask her, of all people. He should have waited to discreetly ask Maggie. Hurt flashed in her eyes and she looked away from him, holding her stomach as if she would be ill.

  “She is well, or so I gather. Forgive me for not g
oing out of my way to check on her these past seven days.”

  The pain in his chest gripped at him again and he groaned. Curse Daniel Mac Simon and his depraved soul.

  “Thank you for taking care of me, Lin.” She pursed her lips and squinted her eyes, clearly pondering if she should speak or not, then decided against whatever words she was going to say.

  “I will get Maggie.” She spun on her heels and Alastar took in the sight of his wife. How he loved her. She must be angry about Elwynna’s sudden appearance and the affection she must have seen between the two of them, but if she had heard all he said to the lass, she would know he had told her he loved his wife. So, why was Aislin so angry? He would have to wear her down and get answers. She had clearly withdrawn from him and he knew Aislin well enough to know that he was in a load of trouble with her. But, he knew how to make her see reason, eventually. He would get her to open up again.

  The fire crackled and popped in the center of the room. Now that his eyes were adjusted and Aislin had left, he took the time to scan what parts of his home he could see without having to move much. Wicker baskets surrounded the large stone slab used to prepare food. Their low table was surrounded by the usual cushions for sitting and a few wooden benches lined the lime-washed walls. All looked as it should, except… he squinted through the smoky haze. Across the room on the other side of the hearth, he saw Aislin’s bed with its four tall posts and drawn back curtains. She had moved her bed away from his? He had been injured, mayhap dying, and she actually moved further away from him?

  His head spun, and his stomach clenched. What in the world had happened to his wife? What did she believe she saw that would make her pull away so completely from him? Then his eyes caught on something piled upon the wooden chest on the floor near her bed. It was a pile of wool blankets of varying colors, though muted by the dim light of the hearth. They were neatly folded and had some other garments draped across them. His eyes were failing him as he closed and reopened them in an effort to focus. It appeared to be a pile of wee garments. Wee sleeping garments, specifically.