by Mia Pride
Garreth looked from Doran to Ceara and saw red. Mac Tavish raised her slim fingers to his lips and slowly, softly, placed a lingering kiss upon her exposed wrist. She blushed furiously and it was all Garreth could do, to not remove his sword from its sheath at his hip. “I will take my chances,” Garreth roared to Doran over his shoulder as he pushed through the crowd.
The closer he got to Mac Tavish and his future wife, the more he felt the rage boiling in his veins. He knew the consequences of his actions. He understood that he was sealing his fate, staking his claim on Ceara once and for all, and the thought caused a primal instinct to rise in his body, the hackles on his neck raising as he prepared to fight.
Reaching their side, seeing the flush in her cheeks and the way Aaron’s eyes locked lecherously upon her breasts as she caught her breath, all control left him. He was moving instinctively, allowing his natural male need to protect what was his to take over. No words could form on his lips. Only the sound of a deep, rattling growl escaped his throat as his right arm pulled back reflexively. His fist clenched tightly as it swung in the air, connecting squarely with Aaron’s nose. He felt the cartilage crack beneath the impact, felt the rush of warm blood as it oozed instantly from the man’s nose and splattered on Garreth’s face.
Mac Tavish roared in pain, clearly not expecting the blow. Perhaps the bastard would have seen it coming, had he not been leering at Ceara’s breasts! The man deserved what he got. Not a single man in this room did not know of Garreth’s arrangement with Ceara. Garreth had let it go far enough, more than most men would have.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the red of his rage blurred his vision, the blood rushing to his head causing his ears to ring. Gasps sounded all around from the lassies in the hall. Some men roared their approval above the din, raising their horns of ale above their head in salute of Garreth’s actions.
Looking at Mac Tavish’s crumpled body on the ground as he held his bleeding nose, Garreth slid his gaze over to Ceara, who was clutching her chest with one hand and covering her shocked mouth with the other. Her eyes locked on his in confusion and fear, and Garreth smirked proudly. He watched as her confusion morphed into understanding. She knew what he had just done. He had marked his territory and he was not sorry.
He watched her begin to back away, shaking her head in denial at the scene before her. His head still swam with the pent-up bloodlust. It was as if he was in battle again, the pure instinct to fight taking over. Now that the battle was won, it was time to claim his spoils. And his spoils would be in the form of his future bride.
She scrutinized him with her wide green eyes, backing up step by slow step as he moved closer, prowling like the beast he was, stalking his prey. She spun on her heels, preparing to flee, but he was much faster. Gripping her tightly around the waist, he flung her weightlessly over his shoulder, her head dangling over his back as her legs kicked furiously and her small fists pummeled his spine.
He grunted at her efforts, but felt no pain. All he felt was animalistic pride. She was his. No man would ever dare touch her again and something about that thought made him want to pound his chest.
“Let me down!” She hollered over the shouts of applause and laughter, but he had no intention of doing so. “Garreth! Stop!”
He would not stop. Not until she was away from the hall and safely in his home, in his bed. He stormed into the summer night, feeling the cold breeze as it slid across his overheated forehead, cooling his nerves. But only slightly. Not enough for him to change his mind where Ceara was concerned. As his blood stopped boiling and turned to a low simmer, more coherent thoughts finally flooded his brain. He had allowed his pride to get the better of him. He had shown his vulnerability in a way he had never allowed before.
How could this lass, whom he had known his entire life, whom he had tried to forget for so long, have so suddenly taken root into his heart? She was a wee bonny lass and she felt like nothing more than a sack of feathers in his arms. Garreth had been with many lassies over the years, yet suddenly, this woman whom he had rejected only hours before had gone and turned his world upside down. Perhaps it was her rejection of him before the feast that had made his pride balk at her with another man.
Deep down, he knew that was not the truth. He had decided to do right by her before she rejected him, before she had made a public display with that bastard, Mac Tavish. That was the sting of it. The very night Garreth had realized what an arse he had been and sworn to do right by her, was the very night she turned on him and decided to dance with another man. For certain, it bruised his pride, but there was much more to the swarm of confusing emotions filling his mind.
As he stepped through the door of his house, he flung Ceara unceremoniously onto the cushions near the hearth. She plopped down with a grunt and rubbed her backside with a wince. Garreth started to apologize but stopped himself. Now that he had her here, alone in his home, he was not sure what to say or do with her. He was no longer the blood lusting warrior ready to ravish his prize. He was the son of a king, a trained and controlled man of honor. His behavior should embarrass him, but he could not be held accountable for the instincts of a man to take what was his from another. He would do it all over again if needed.
Ceara shot to her feet and poked him hard in the ribs. “Ouch!” He rubbed his chest where it throbbed, but squared his shoulders and towered over her small frame, glowering down at her with a frown.
“You are a crazed man!” she shouted at him, wagging her finger. “What are you about, breaking Aaron’s nose and stealing me away?”
Garreth growled again. He thought he had recovered from his show of pride, but he had been wrong. “First, Ceara, do not say his name in my presence ever again.” He squinted down at her for good measure, but she simply stretched herself to a taller posture, putting a hand on her hip and glowering back. “Secondly, I had every right to do what I did. You are my intended wife. Nay man has any right to touch you. It was a matter of honor!” he barked. “You should not have encouraged him!”
If he expected Ceara to apologize or be her usual timid self, he had been mistaken. She flipped her red waves over her shoulder and laughed in his face. “I have seen two different lassies on your lap since the beginning of this day! What makes you believe you can do as you will, ignore me, insult me as you please, and expect me to sit in the corner, waiting for you to finally wed me as you are supposed to do?”
Ceara’s face turned red as she continued her tirade. “Furthermore, I released you from your intolerable responsibility to me tonight. I am a free woman and you are a free man. Go be with Mary, or Hannah, or whomever is next in line for the coveted position as your concubine!” She shooed him away, as if he were a wee lad being scolded by his mama for sticking his finger into a strawberry tart. “I care not what you do, Garreth, just leave me be.”
His jaw dropped as he listened to her tirade. Where did this fiery lass come from? Why, by the gods, had he not paid more attention to her in the past? Her temper only made him want her more and he grabbed Ceara tightly by the shoulders and took a deep, steadying breath. He would not tell her the truth—that he was an arse who had intentionally set her aside until tonight, that he was selfish and would never allow another man to have her, that she was the most beautiful woman in Coraindt and he had treated her horribly because he feared his true desire for her.
It would make him sound shallow and impulsive, but in truth, what he felt was something more. It was a connection he knew had always been present. It had scared him to feel such a pull toward the lass he was promised to.
But today, after his abhorrent behavior towards her when he was caught with Mary and then again when he was caught with Hannah, he knew he needed to finally do right by her and stop avoiding his own fears. Tonight, everything had changed. He wanted her and had claimed her publicly. There was no turning back.
No good ever came from telling a lass the truth of his emotions, and he would not start now. Ceara did not need to know
he truly desired her, had already planned to court her and prepare for marriage with her before she had pulled him outside to break their arrangement. Nay, he would stay closed off, never revealing the depth of his need for her.
“You are still standing here. I asked you to go. I suppose you have nay other lassies waiting for you tonight, so you have nothing better to do than stare at me like a mad fool.” She crossed her arms and grimaced at him.
Her cool voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Had he been staring at her like a mad fool? He supposed he had. It was time to put his emotions away and stick to the business of their marriage. “You cannot call off our arrangement. It is done by our parents and they seem intent that we wed. Your behavior tonight was disrespectful to me and I want an apology.”
“An apology?” Her voice rose to a dangerous pitch and he realized in that moment she would no longer be the quiet, evasive lass of the past. Somehow, they had waged war on one another on this night, but he was a master at war. He would come out the victor. “All right, Garreth. I am sorry... sorry our parents ever agreed to this marriage! I will not marry you! You are rude and arrogant and unfaithful—”
“Unfaithful?” he pulled her to him and gave her a small shake. “I may be rude and arrogant, but I am a loyal man! When I take a wife, I will forsake all other women for the rest of my life!”
She snorted and pulled away from his grip. “Well, the way you carry on, there will be nay other lassies in the tuath left for you to bed! You will have nay choice but to be faithful to your poor, unfortunate wife because every other lass will know what a boar you are!”
He laughed harshly at her insult and pushed her down onto the cushions on the floor. She squealed as his weight came down on her and his hand pinned both arms securely over her head. The fire flickering in the hearth suddenly flared to life as she yelped, but Garreth was too angry to give it a second thought. “You, my bonny lass, will be my ‘poor, unfortunate wife’ and nay other lass. Would you care to see just how boorish I can be?”
She tilted her head to the side and laughed. “Och! I have had years to discover for myself just how boorish you are. There is nothing you can do to further my opinion in that regard—”
His lips crashed into hers roughly. She struggled beneath him and gasped, but he only tightened his hold on her wrists. As she wriggled her hips into his, he groaned at the sensation and when she gasped for breath, he slid his tongue between her ripe lips, tasting the mead on her tongue that had caused her to make a fool of herself...and him.
He felt a shift in her body as her struggles ceased and slowly her rigid posture began to soften beneath him as she gave way to the sensations they produced together. Her tongue clumsily wrapped around his, and he remembered in that moment she had confessed to never being kissed before.
Shame took hold as he realized that her first kiss would always remind her of how he broke Aaron’s nose, carried her away, and then pinned her body beneath his on the earthen floor while he ravaged her mouth, and yet, as her slim fingers scratched over his scalp and lightly tugged his shoulder-length blonde hair, he could not bring himself to be sorry. She was kissing him back with full fervor, groaning into his mouth as their hot breath mingled and their hips began to move as one.
Her legs unexpectedly came up to wrap around his waist and he wasted no time pushing himself against her, letting her feel the rigid evidence of his need on her stomach. His hand still gripped her wrists, but his other was free to wander and he let it do as it willed, skimming over her breast as she gasped and he moved his hand even lower. He gripped her hips tightly, then began to gather the fabric of her dress into his fist, moving it up her legs. He would have this itchy green wool fabric off her body in a moment, finally seeing what lay beneath.
“Ceara, are you...” The door opened swiftly, letting a cool breeze invade the warmth of his home. “Oh, my!”
Ceara detached her mouth from Garreth’s with a gasp at the same moment he finally released her wrists and swiftly tugged her dress back down to her ankles, hoping the intruders did not notice how very close he had been to slipping his hand between her legs.
“Mama!” Ceara shrieked as she bolted upright and swiped a hand across her now red, swollen lips to remove the glistening evidence his mouth had left on hers. Garreth should have been embarrassed being caught with his hand up Abigael’s daughter’s skirt, but he could not care less. She was his intended bride. He had made his intentions for her quite clear in the gathering hall. Anyone who dared follow them home should have expected to find them in such a position.
He pulled Ceara into his arms, expecting her to melt into him as she had done only moments ago, but felt a sting to his pride and a tug in his heart that he would never admit to when she shoved him away as if he was a diseased man.
Abigael cleared her throat and stepped aside as King Doran and King Connor, Garreth’s father, followed her in. He could feel Ceara shrink next to him, clearly mortified to be caught in such a position. He wanted to protect her from her shame, to embrace her and promise all would be well, but her rejection from a moment ago was still fresh. He dared not touch her.
“I, we wanted to make sure you were all right,” Abigael said, clearing her throat and glancing up at King Doran with what looked like amusement in her eye. It took only a moment for Garreth to understand that Ceara’s mother was likely more relieved than angry to have found them tangled together on the floor. After all, had she not arranged this match from the beginning?
“Abigael,” Garreth said as he stood up, giving Ceara his hand to help her to her feet. He noticed at that exact moment that her dress was twisted about her waist and her breasts were nearly spilling out the top. He reached down to tug on the fabric, only concerned for her modesty, but the move must have added to her embarrassment. Ceara groaned and slapped his hands away, turning from their audience so she could tuck herself back in her dress without being seen. Garreth cleared his throat and ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Abigael, I plan to marry your daughter. On the morrow.”
Ceara gasped and spun on her heels, eyes wide and mouth agape. She looked positively beautiful with her full lips swollen from his kisses and her dress still disheveled, despite her attempts to right herself. He winked at her from his peripherals and was surprised to see her grimace.
His attentions had never caused a lass to grimace and it was another blow to his gut. He supposed he deserved it, after the foul way he had been treating her. But if her reaction to his kisses tonight were any indication, there was a passionate woman beneath her hard exterior and he would relish pulling that passion out of her on the morrow once they were wed.
“Tis about time, Garreth,” his father seemed to growl at him with irritation. “But I did not come here to speak about your wedding. We are being attacked by the Ó Néills of Erdini! They’ve been spotted by the warriors at the gate and are coming our way. Cursed bastards keep stealing our cattle. Gather the warriors. We end these skirmishes tonight!” His father’s eyes glanced briefly at Ceara, who still stood quietly with her mouth slightly open in shock. Her hair was disheveled and her chin was red from the rub of his beard. Garreth saw a proud gleam in his father’s eye at the sight of her. King Connor gave Garreth a quick nod and a wink of approval as he spun around and exited their home.
Turning to face Ceara, Garreth grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, not caring if she tried to pull away or reject him. After tonight, rejecting him was futile. “Stay here,” he ordered Ceara, suddenly feeling the seriousness of his father’s words. Erdini had long been a rival tuath, regularly sending raids and stealing cattle. Rarely did these raids become violent, but Garreth could sense in his father’s words that tonight would be different. As king, Connor was duty bound to protect his people. Cattle was all that stood between life or death for much of Coraindt, and his father would not stand for their theft any longer. Negotiations had not worked. It was time for battle.
Ceara stared blankly at him and shook her head. “C
eara, this is serious. If the Ó Néills try to pillage, you must stay safe. Stay here and bar the door. Keep your mother with you.” She nodded slowly, showing she understood. She had seemingly lost her ability to speak, but that was fine with Garreth. He did not have time to argue with her. “I mean it, Ceara. I will be back. And on the morrow, we will wed.”
A frown marred her face at his words. Another gut punch. Before she could argue, he pulled her mouth to his, placing a hard, claiming kiss on her lips.
“My warriors and I will join you,” King Doran nodded at Garreth. “Stay here with Ceara, Abi,” Doran said as he strode over to Abigael, kissing her just as hard as Garreth had kissed Ceara. Men went into battle and did not always come back. Best to kiss your woman like it may be your last.
Grabbing Ceara around her waist, he bent her backwards and covered her mouth with his one last time. She shrieked as she felt herself falling backward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck for support. His tongue probed hers, reveling in the soft glide of their mating mouths as they found their rhythm. Pulling away from her swiftly, he left her swerving in her spot, speechless as she watched him walk over to the door.
Let her remember that kiss as she awaits my return, he thought smugly to himself as he slammed the door behind him.
Chapter 4
“DO not,” Ceara pointed at her mother and put up a hand in warning. “Do not speak.”