‘No, it was another man,’ Alarr responded. ‘Breanne wanted to see you, and I agreed to bring her here.’ He said nothing of Feann, and she knew it was a deliberate omission.
But Treasa would not be deterred. ‘What other man? Was it Oisin MacLogan?’ Her demeanour tensed, and Breanne stared in shock.
‘Why would you speak of Oisin?’ The very memory of the man made her skin crawl. Were it not for Alarr’s rescue, she had no doubt that Oisin would have raped her or forced her to wed him.
‘Oisin is one of Cerball’s bastard sons. He was the man Cerball chose for you to wed.’
Breanne shuddered at the thought. But she was starting to realise that Feann had done all that he could to keep her from the alliance.
‘Oisin was angry when I did not agree to wed him,’ Breanne confessed to her mother. ‘He tried to take me by force.’ She explained how the man had tried to hunt her down, and Treasa’s face blanched.
‘Oisin had no lands of his own. He wanted to wed you, in order to claim Clonagh as his own.’
‘But now, he cannot.’ Breanne eyed Alarr, realising that they had destroyed Oisin’s plans.It made her wonder about her future. Did Alarr intend to wed her in truth one day? Or was he only intending to keep her as his lover? Both possibilities made her uneasy. If she married him, he would want her to leave Éireann and return to Maerr. But if she was only his concubine, he might one day abandon her. The thought left an icy chill sinking within her mood. She didn’t like the thought of being powerless to command her own future or being left behind.
Her mother reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘Alarr, might I have another moment alone with my daughter?’
He hesitated, but Breanne nodded. ‘I don’t think there’s any danger, and it’s just the two of us.’ She suspected that Treasa wanted to discuss her ‘marriage’ to Alarr.
‘If you wish.’ He rose and went to the door. Before he left, he glanced at Treasa and then back at Breanne. He was still wary, but she was glad for his overprotective nature. It had helped her to survive more than once.
When he had gone, Treasa sat closer, lowering her voice. ‘Breanne, I must ask you this, in all seriousness. Would you consider setting aside Alarr as your husband? You could keep him as your consort instead.’
Her mother’s question took her aback. ‘Why would you say this?’ She had no desire for a different man. She preferred to remain with Alarr, for he was a man of honour and strength.
‘For the sake of our tribe,’ Treasa continued. ‘They are under Cerball’s rule, and I know they are suffering. You need a husband who can help you take back our lands at Clonagh.’ She glanced at the doorway. ‘But we can never do this if you have a foreigner at your side. He is the enemy, Breanne.’
‘Alarr protected me when no one else would,’ she argued. And she saw no need to reclaim lands she barely remembered.
‘I am not saying you must give him up,’ Treasa insisted. ‘Keep him as your lover, if you will.’ She took both of Breanne’s hands in hers. ‘I do not ask you for a decision now. I ask only that you think about it. But we need an alliance with another Irish tribe if we are to reclaim Clonagh.’
We? Breanne thought. They had gone from being strangers, and now her mother expected her to tear apart her life for a birthright she didn’t want? Her initial reaction was to refuse, but something made her hold her tongue.
Treasa seemed relieved by her silence. She squeezed her daughter’s palms and added, ‘I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are here now. I’ve not seen you since you were a child. It means everything to see you all grown up.’ Her eyes gleamed with tears, though she smiled.
Breanne didn’t know how to respond, for her thoughts were in turmoil. It had been years since she’d seen Treasa, and her mother had never attempted to contact her. She had not even sent word that she was alive. It was possible that the leader at Dún Bolg had refused to allow it, or possibly Feann had not wanted contact between them. But it seemed that only now, when she was of use to Treasa, did her mother appear to have feelings towards her. Though Breanne tried to suppress her suspicions, she couldn’t bring herself to have any emotions of her own. There was a distance between them, a tangible rift that she could not quite bridge.
But Treasa did not appear to notice her discomfort. ‘Let us go and join the others,’ her mother suggested. ‘The men may have brought back fresh meat from the hunt, and we can help them cook the evening meal.’
She followed Treasa outside and found Alarr standing at the doorway. He sent her a questioning look, and she nodded to reassure him that all was well. His gaze transformed as he watched over her. In his blue eyes, she saw the promise of another night in his arms. The thought only deepened her confusion, for she could not deny that she cared for this man. If she was not careful, she might grow to love him.
But her heart ached at the thought of leaving Éireann behind if Alarr wanted her to journey to Maerr. She wasn’t ready to leave her home for a man who might one day set her aside. She didn’t know what his feelings were towards her, beyond desire. She had indulged in a forbidden liaison, and she knew not what the future held.
Her mother had spoken of the suffering at Clonagh—suffering Breanne held the power to end, if she chose a proper alliance. It was what Feann had wanted, but she couldn’t imagine taking another man as her husband or, sharing his bed. She wanted Alarr, despite all else.
As if in answer to her idle dreaming, he returned to her side. He drew his arm around her waist and leaned down to kiss her. Though she knew it meant to show his claim upon her, the heat of his lips rekindled her desires. She welcomed the embrace, bittersweet though it was.
When he pulled back, she fumbled for something to say. On the far end of the ringfort, she saw a group of hunters returning with a deer.
‘It’s good that they brought back venison,’ she said. ‘I am hungry tonight.’
‘So am I,’ he breathed, kissing her again. And there was no doubt what kind of hunger he was feeling.
Breanne answered his embrace, but it was still difficult to push back the uncertain emotions mingled with guilt. There were still so many unanswered questions. And she didn’t know if Alarr truly wanted her—or if he was still using her for his own gain.
* * *
That night, they made their bed in a small storage chamber amid bags of grain. Alarr closed the door behind them and drew her close. He had held back his desire for most of the day and night, and he craved the touch of her hands on his body.
He had seen her apprehension around Treasa and the worry in her eyes. And although Feann was not here, he knew that the fight between them would happen soon enough. Alarr intended to make the most of whatever days he had left.
‘Come here, søtnos. I’ve been waiting to touch you all day.’ He kissed her roughly, and she met his lips with her own, winding her arms around his neck. At her sweet response, his desire grew hotter.
‘Treasa wanted me to set you aside,’ she confessed.
He wasn’t surprised to hear it, but he tensed none the less. ‘And what do you want, Breanne?’
She stood on tiptoe and drew his face down to hers. ‘I don’t want to think about her. Or anyone else.’
There was a desperate rush for both of them. He tore at the laces of her gown while she reached to pull his tunic off. He dragged her gown from her shoulders, below her breasts, baring them to his sight. By the gods, he needed her. The urge to mark her, to make her his, was burning through him. He took her nipple into his mouth and was rewarded by her groan.
Her hands gripped his face, and she gasped when he suckled her hard. There was no time for gentleness now. He lifted her up against a stack of grain sacks, and she pulled him close.
‘Alarr,’ she breathed. Her eyes were heavy with desire, her lips soft. He wanted nothing more than to take her now, but first, he wanted her to feel the bond between the
m. For whatever time they had left, he wanted her beside him. And he wanted her to know that he was hers, just as she was his.
He reached to touch her inner thigh, moving his hand higher. She arched against him, and at the touch of her opening, he could feel her wetness coating his fingers. He bent to take her other breast in his mouth, and he caressed her intimately, ensuring that she was ready.
‘Do you want me inside you?’ he murmured against her skin.
In answer, she lifted her knees to offer herself. He pressed her skirts to her waist and cupped her hips. In one swift thrust, he filled her deeply, and she cried out at the pleasure. There was no resistance, only her silken wetness surrounding him.
She met him as he plunged deep inside, her body shuddering at his invasion. He lost himself in her, revelling as she squeezed him within her depths. ‘There will be no other for you but me,’ he demanded. At least, not while he lived. The thought of any other man touching her sent a roar of jealousy within him. With her body pressed against the grain, he thrust inside her, over and over.
But it was more than the need to claim her. He wanted her to remember him after he was gone. Breanne had somehow pushed away the all-consuming anger that fuelled his vengeance. In these moments with her, he forgot about the rest of the world. She made him feel something, and she didn’t care that he was no longer the warrior he’d been. When she welcomed him into her body, he saw a faith in her eyes that he didn’t deserve. And may the gods help him, he wanted to spend every last moment at her side.
Abruptly, she shattered in his arms, her body spasming around his length. The sensation of her pleasured response aroused him harder, and he kissed her to muffle a scream. Her legs tightened around his waist and he continued to grind against her, his own breathing harsh. But he slowed his pace, wanting to know more.
‘What did you tell your mother after she asked you to set me aside?’ he asked, tracing his fingertips over her bare back. Her hands dug into his skin in response, and she moved her hips beneath him.
‘I said nothing.’ Her voice was hitched as she tried to make him continue the lovemaking.
Her answer was a blow to his mood, for he’d wanted her to refuse. Yet, he had no right to demand that of her. She was free to make her own choices, even if she did not choose him.
With reluctance, he withdrew from her body and picked up the fallen furs they had brought with them. He arranged them on the ground and drew her to lie down beside him. He covered her with one fur, and drew her to her side, her backside pressed against him. His body was still rigid, but he held himself back.
Breanne remained still, sensing his anger. ‘Treasa said that I owed it to our people to marry a man who could overthrow Cerball’s rule. And she implied that I should not put my own personal desires above the needs of our family.’
The woman’s proposition wasn’t unexpected. Breanne was of noble birth. Her choice to stay with him was a decision born from her desire to save her father’s life. She was never meant to be bound to a man like him.
He waited for her to say that she would not consider her mother’s assertion, but her silence made him uneasy.
Breanne turned to face him, and her expression was troubled. ‘She told me to keep you as my consort, and not to give her a decision about the marriage yet.’
Which meant that she had considered it. A tension rose up within him, that she would turn against him.
‘No. I will not remain your consort on the side,’ he said darkly. He would never allow another man to come between them.
‘Isn’t that what I am to you?’ she countered. ‘Your consort? Or am I a concubine?’ To emphasise her words, she rolled to her back, pulling him on top of her. And he felt the need to possess her, to prove that she was more.
‘You are mine,’ he answered, leaning down to kiss her throat. He drew her so close, their bodies were skin to skin. He didn’t want to put a name to their relationship, for in his eyes, they belonged to each other.
And yet, he knew that Breanne had not given up her innocence because she cared. It had been a negotiation to save Feann. A vain part of him had wanted to believe that she had enjoyed sharing his bed, for she had given herself willingly.
Breanne cupped his cheek with one hand and said, ‘I feel as if I’m being blown around in a storm. Everyone wants to make decisions for my life. And I don’t know what the answers are.’
He rested his hand upon her bare hip, and gooseflesh rose upon her skin beneath his touch. ‘You already made your choice, søtnos. From the moment you surrendered yourself, I swore I would not let you go. You will never share another man’s bed. Not while I live.’
His body was still aroused, and he needed her to know that she belonged to him. He wanted to claim her, to drive away all thoughts of anyone else.
‘I don’t want another man,’ she whispered. ‘But I feel as if my life isn’t my own any more. I feel as if the chains are still there, though I cannot see them.’
He drew his hand over her bare breast, and she inhaled as the nipple grew erect. ‘In what way?’
‘I thought I was Feann’s foster daughter with no living family. Now I find out that my mother is alive, but she’s in exile. And she wants me to take back a homeland I don’t even know.’ She covered his hand with hers, straining at his touch.
Though he understood her dilemma, he wanted her to recognise that she did have control of her choices. ‘You have the power to say no.’
She turned to meet his gaze. ‘A woman holds no power at all. She is at the mercy of others.’
Alarr thought of his mother Hilda and his aunt Kolga, both of whom held a great deal of power in Maerr. ‘The women of my tribe are equal to men. If anyone tried to tell my mother Hilda that she was at the mercy of others, she would strike them down.’ A faint smile caught his mouth at the thought. Then he turned serious. ‘You can make whatever choices you want, Breanne. So long as you stay with me.’
Alarr bent down and suckled her breast, moving his hand lower. She inhaled sharply, as he was learning just how to touch her, to draw out her pleasure.
‘I want to stay with you,’ she whispered.
He guided his shaft to her damp opening. Although she tried to welcome him inside once again, he held back, resting his body weight on his arms. ‘Your life. Your body. Your very soul is mine, Breanne.’
He thrust deep inside her, marking her as his own. She gave a cry and gripped his hair, embracing him. As he took her, she rose to meet his hips with her own.
‘If that is true,’ she whispered, her face revealing her desire, ‘then you belong to me as well. Your life.’ She squeezed his length within her depths, and he hissed at the dark pleasure that filled him.
‘Your body.’ She kissed him hard, lifting her mouth to his. He returned the kiss, claiming her lips, welcoming the soft intrusion of her tongue.
‘Your soul.’ She moved him until he was on his back, buried deep inside her. Breanne rose up on her knees, riding him. He let her take her pleasure, watching her face tighten with rising desire. Her breathing rhythm shifted, and he sat up, lifting her hips and plunging inside hard. This was no longer simple lovemaking. Instead, it was a battle for control—and he gave it to her.
She met him, thrust for thrust, until her face transformed with raw desire, and she shattered around him. Alarr could feel the pulse of her release, but he would not stop. The sight of her coming apart was his own undoing. He penetrated her, over and over, until he erupted deep inside and his own shout joined hers. It was brutal, passionate, and his heart would not stop racing.
He remained inside her, bringing her gently to the side. ‘Did I hurt you, søtnos?’ He had been so caught up in the moment, he had lost control.
‘No,’ she breathed, smiling at him. ‘I liked it.’
He kissed her, sliding his hands over her body. He could not stop touching her, marvelling that th
is woman was his. But then came the clouded reality that she would only be his until he faced Feann. He knew not if they would have any life together afterwards, especially if he kept his vow not to kill Feann.
He had never promised not to seek revenge—only to grant the king his life. But a gnawing suspicion took root that he could still die in battle. His time with Breanne might only be brief, though he would savour every moment.
It was sobering to think of losing this woman, and he pushed away the thought. Or worse, the idea of betraying her.
Chapter Eight
‘Have you thought about what I said?’ Treasa asked. Her mother had an expectant look upon her face, along with a slight smile. Undoubtedly, she believed Breanne would follow her wishes and wed a different man.
‘I have,’ Breanne answered. ‘And I have decided to remain with Alarr.’ After the night she’d spent in his arms, she believed that he would let her make her own choices. But more than that, she believed that he cared about her. This morn, they had lain in each other’s arms, and he could not stop himself from touching her. The light caresses were an unconscious gesture, and she warmed to the affection. She didn’t want to be with another man—not now.
Her mother sighed. ‘I was hoping you would understand, Breanne. This is about more than your personal needs. It’s about our home and our people.’
Treasa’s unspoken message was: You’re being selfish.
But Breanne refused to be manipulated by guilt. ‘You cannot expect me to sacrifice myself for a home I do not remember and people I have never seen.’
‘It is your duty,’ Treasa said. ‘You are all we have, Breanne. It must fall upon your shoulders.’
Frustration and irritation brimmed inside her at the woman’s expectation. ‘That isn’t true. Why don’t you marry an ally and restore our lands?’
‘I am too old, and no man would have me.’ Treasa’s voice grew weary. ‘I am sorry if I have asked too much of you. I had hoped that you would agree, knowing that you could keep Alarr with you.’
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