On A Wild Winter's Night (The O'Byrne Brides Book 4)

by Miriam Minger

  Something was wrong! She felt it…they all felt it. Triona glanced with terror in her eyes from Duncan to Maire and then to her beloved former maid.

  “Aud…?”

  “Sweeting, you must push this one last time! Will you do that for me? Now take a big deep breath…and push!”

  Triona’s intense straining truly alarming to behold, Nora held her own breath as Aud caught the babe in her hands with a cry of relief.

  “It’s a wee girl, Triona! You and Ronan have another daughter!”

  Yet no sooner had Aud uttered the words than her face went white. Her brow beaded with sweat as she worked over the child to clear out her nose and mouth, rub her motionless body, and then gently slap her bottom.

  “Aud, why isn’t she crying?” Triona demanded hoarsely. “Aud? I don’t hear her. Aud!”

  This time a sharp slap resounded in the room…and then another, but nothing. As Maire backed away even further from the bed and began to weep, Duncan left Triona’s side and went to Aud. Grim-faced, he gestured for her to hand him the babe.

  “Let me try…please.”

  Nora cradled Triona’s whimpering son against her and stepped back, too. She had never felt such helplessness as Duncan took the limp silent babe from Aud and covered her tiny mouth and nose with his mouth…and blew a great deep breath into her.

  And then another forceful breath and another…while Aud embraced Triona who had begun to sob inconsolably.

  So inconsolably that they didn’t hear the slightest intake of breath from the babe, though Nora saw her little arms begin to quiver.

  Yet Duncan had heard it and he breathed into the babe even harder as her skin went from blue-tinged to pink right before their eyes.

  This time they all heard a gasp from the babe and her outstretched limbs began to flail…and then the sweetest sound they could have ever imagined as she let out a long, piercing wail.

  “Ah, God, thank you!” Triona cried out as Duncan placed the wriggling babe into her arms and went at once to embrace Maire, who collapsed against him.

  “Duncan, you saved her!”

  He didn’t answer her, fearing for his own unborn child at Maire’s ashen pallor. He swept her up and held her close against him as he carried her from the overwarm room, while Triona called out more tearful thanks after them.

  Duncan had noticed his wife’s hand stray to her stomach enough times during their journey to Glenmalure to guess she was with child. He almost turned back to Longford Castle when he’d first seen it, but he knew how much this reunion with her family meant to her. As he strode with her toward the door of the dwelling-house, he met Taig O’Nolan’s concerned gaze from where the burly chieftain stood by the hearth.

  “All is well, Taig. Triona gave birth to two healthy babes this night.”

  “Two?”

  At Duncan’s nod, the chieftain gave an astonished whistle but then he called after them, “What of Maire, Duncan? Is she ailing?”

  “She needs some fresh air, is all. A good Christmas to you.”

  “Aye, a good Christmas to you and your wife as well!”

  As Duncan stepped outside into the crisp night air, the snow crunching beneath his boots, Maire looked up at him. He’d failed to grab their cloaks, but they weren’t going far. Relief surged through him that her color in the torchlight illuminating the stronghold already looked better.

  “Oh, Duncan, it is Christmas already, isn’t it?”

  He hugged her closer and kissed her brow, but sudden shouts and commotion erupting from the O’Byrne clansmen guarding the gates made him stride faster across the yard.

  Clearly they must have spied Ronan and Niall returning home, which made Duncan glad for Triona and Nora. Yet the last thing he wanted was to come face-to-face with an irate Ronan Black O’Byrne after their regrettable exchange in the feasting-hall.

  That Maire made no comment about the mounting uproar told Duncan how bone-weary she must be. For now she needed rest, but at first light they would set out for Meath. Once she was safe and sound at Longford Castle, he would then ride to Dublin with Ronan’s message for the Justiciar John de Gray.

  In truth, Duncan hadn’t expected any other response from Ronan and he didn’t blame him.

  His Scots family on his mother’s side had suffered bitterly from Norman oppression for years. Being half Scots, Duncan, too, had been foully mistreated by his three Norman half-brothers when their father died and his poor mother locked away in a tower until the day she died.

  A bastard son and a madwoman claiming to be a properly wedded wife, that’s how his Norman family had deemed them, no matter that his parents’ marriage had been performed by a priest. The cruel memories to this day made gall rise in his throat, though he swallowed it down as he came to the dwelling-house where he and Maire were staying.

  No, indeed, he didn’t blame Ronan.

  Duncan knew deep in his heart that if he was in his rebel brother-in-law’s place, he would have given the same defiant answer.

  Chapter 4

  Ronan dismounted at a run, his fury reigniting as he spied Duncan across the yard carrying Maire toward their dwelling-house.

  Aye, he loved his sister, but he wanted every last Norman gone from Glenmalure! He shoved open the door to his home with Niall hard upon his heels, his outrage that Duncan and his men lingered at the stronghold turning again to raw apprehension.

  The dwelling-house was too quiet, too still. Ronan quickly removed his heavy cloak and threw it upon a bench, and Niall followed suit.

  Light shone from the bedchamber at the opposite end of the main room and Ronan heard hushed voices. His heart thundering in his chest, he drew closer to the door.

  God help him, if he had arrived too late…

  “Ronan!”

  Taig O’Nolan’s welcoming bellow was like icy water splashing upon his face as Ronan entered the bedchamber to a sight he would never have imagined.

  Beaming at him, the burly chieftain cradled a swaddled infant in his arms. Triona lay covered in blankets upon the bed and held a second babe in her arms.

  “You’re the father of twins!” Taig enthused though Aud, standing at the side of the bed near Triona, immediately shushed him.

  “Will you frighten the wee things with all your hollering? Keep your voice down, husband, and hand Ronan his son!”

  “Son?” Ronan stared from the wriggling infant placed in his arms to where Triona smiled weakly at him. He’d never seen her look so pale before, no, not even after Deirdre’s birth. At once he went to her side, glancing from her to the sleeping babe with a wisp of red hair nestled against her.

  “A girl, Ronan,” Triona said with tears welling in her eyes. “Our little Deirdre has a brother now and a sister.”

  Ronan’s eyes clouded, too, his remorse for leaving her to bear their children without him cutting him to the quick.

  Swallowing hard, he had no voice to speak. It was only when Triona reached out her hand to him and he clasped it, feeling her warmth—God in heaven, that she was alive and well!—that he felt able again to breathe.

  “Triona…forgive me…”

  Without speaking she squeezed his hand. She gazed with such love at him that Ronan knew with intense gratitude and relief that she held no ill will toward him.

  He couldn’t say as much for his infant son, though, who suddenly flailed a chubby arm and cuffed Ronan on the chin with his fist. Niall’s laughter behind him where he stood with his arm around Nora resounded in the room.

  “Aye, Ronan, you’ve met your match in that one! Already squaring off with his father! What will you and Triona name him?”

  Ronan met Triona’s gaze and she softly said, “Conor. For my brother…and Ronan’s dearest friend. We already agreed to it.”

  As everyone in the room nodded their approval, Nora asked gently, “And your daughter?”

  Ronan shrugged, momentarily at a loss.

  He and Triona had believed all along that they would have a son and hadn’t cons
idered any girl’s names, which now clearly had been an oversight. He thought of his mother, Aileen, but when Triona squeezed his hand again, he sensed she had a name in mind.

  “Eva. My birth mother’s name…but also because it means ‘life’.” Triona looked down at the swaddled infant in her arms. “This little one is our Christmas miracle. If not for Duncan here with us, we might have lost her—”

  “Duncan?” His voice low, terse, Ronan had immediately bristled. “He was with you during the birth?”

  “I called him in, Ronan,” Aud interjected from the other side of the bed. “If not for Lord FitzWilliam, you might have lost your wife this night as well as Eva and Conor. You weren’t here, though I don’t fault you for it—but my sweeting’s strength was nearly gone. He held onto Triona’s hand as I bade him—”

  “Held your hand?” Meeting Triona’s eyes, Ronan felt anger overwhelm him. Irrational, aye, he knew it, but the thought that a Norman stood here in his stead was almost more than he could bear. “Triona?”

  “Aye, so he did, and I’ll never forget how he helped me…and helped our children. He saved our daughter’s life, Ronan! Conor came first and then Eva, but she wouldn’t start breathing no matter what Aud did to revive her. It was so terrible and I feared—we all feared she was lost! And then Duncan took her and blew into her mouth…and she’s alive now for it!”

  Tears streaking her cheeks, Triona held the child up to Ronan. “Go on! Hold her! And when you do I pray that you find it in your heart to thank the man that saved her instead of any longer thinking ill of him! Shame on you, Ronan O’Byrne!”

  Sobbing now as Ronan took the child from her, Triona fell back against the bed and turned her face away from him. No sound came from anyone else in the room, everyone standing stock-still and staring at him.

  Staring at him as he looked down at the two precious babes…Conor sucking on his tiny fist while Eva gazed up at him with soft gray eyes tinged with the same emerald green as her mother’s.

  Ronan didn’t speak and scarcely breathed, his heart welling up with emotion that left him shaken.

  Aye, he’d been a fool…a raging fool.

  Holding his children close, one cradled in each arm, he glanced up to find Triona watching him, the softest, most tender smile upon her lips. Such love shone in her eyes that he knew she’d forgiven him…again.

  Granting him not one or two…but a host of Christmas miracles this night.

  ***

  “So you guessed during the journey that I was with child?”

  Duncan pressed a kiss to Maire’s lips, her breath a soothing balm to his troubled thoughts.

  How he loved this woman! He drew back from her and nodded, which made her sigh softly.

  “I wanted to surprise you…to tell you on Christmas as my gift to you. Now here it is Christmas and I have no other gift—”

  “You’ve given me everything I could ever want, woman. Your heart. Your love. And now a babe on the way. I need nothing more.” Duncan tucked the blanket more securely around her shoulders. “Go to sleep. Dawn will come soon enough and we’ve a long ride ahead of us.”

  Maire sighed again, but if she felt any disappointment that they were going to leave the O’Byrne stronghold first thing in the morning, she didn’t voice it.

  Instead she gazed into his eyes and said softly, “Thank you, Duncan. You’ve given me the most precious gift, too, seeing my family again. I know it wasn’t the easiest thing for you…but you’ve made me very happy.”

  Emotion closed Duncan’s throat, and all he could do was nod and press another kiss to her lips.

  He had always considered himself to be a hardened warrior…but his sweet wife could fell him with a word, a glance. And now she had thanked him when they both knew—God’s teeth, how he wished it were otherwise!—that it was unlikely they would ever return to Glenmalure or that Maire would ever see her family again.

  He rose from sitting beside her on the bed and dimmed the oil lamp atop the table, feeling almost sick at that moment for the grief that would cost her.

  To not see Triona again or Niall and Nora…or Deirdre and the twins born this night. Why did the world have to be such a harsh place of strife and division…when all Duncan wanted to do was bring light and happiness to Maire’s eyes?

  So his agitated thoughts assailed him again, Duncan quietly leaving the bedchamber so Maire could get some much needed rest. She still looked too pale, though who wouldn’t be after witnessing the trauma of the twins’ birth? Yet he knew that Maire would not have wanted to be anyplace else, so great was her love for Triona—

  “Damn it all!” Duncan’s vehement curse echoed in the outer room filled with its feminine trappings that bore witness to the gentle life Maire had led before he’d met her. He hoped she had fallen asleep already and hadn’t heard his oath. Meanwhile, he was certain that he would not be sleeping at all tonight for the thoughts plaguing him—

  “What the devil?” A sudden pounding at the door made Duncan glance instinctively at his sword belt.

  “Duncan, it’s Ronan!”

  Ronan? Still fully dressed, Duncan made his way instead straight to the door. The last thing he needed to do was greet his brother-in-law, however quick to anger, with a weapon in his hand. He pulled open the door…coming face-to-face with the last person he expected to visit this late at night. Suddenly wary, he kept his voice low so as not to wake Maire.

  “Is anything amiss?”

  Ronan shook his head and thrust two cloaks at him. “You left them at my home.”

  “So I did.” Duncan took the garments, perplexed. Ronan stared at him as if something was on his mind and yet he looked uncomfortable, too. For an awkward moment, they simply looked at each other and then Ronan cleared his throat.

  “I saw you carrying Maire earlier. Is she well?”

  So that was it, Duncan thought, tossing the cloaks onto a carved bench beside the door. “Sleeping. It was a trying night.”

  Ronan nodded, adding, “Aye, I just came from Triona’s bedside.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “She is…thanks to you.”

  Now it was Duncan who cleared his throat, astonished to say the least. Something was truly different about Ronan’s demeanor…as if the tension Duncan had sensed in him since their arrival at the stronghold had disappeared. He gestured into the room. “Do you want to come inside?”

  “No, I like the cold air…and it’s not my intent to stay long. I am forever indebted to you, Duncan. If not for you, my wife and twins might not have survived this night…aye, especially little Eva.”

  “Eva. A fine name.”

  “It means ‘life’ and you breathed it into her.” His voice gone hoarse, Ronan glanced down for a moment and when he looked up, Duncan saw moisture in his eyes. “As I said, I can never repay you…nor can I agree to the Justiciar’s offer.”

  Silence fell between them except for Duncan’s heavy sigh. Ronan looked resolute now and he shook his head.

  “It’s an impossible thing for me, Duncan—”

  “I know.”

  Duncan wasn’t surprised that Ronan looked as startled as he’d felt moments ago. “Mayhap Maire never told you that I’m half Scots, Ronan. I’ve family on my mother’s side who hate the Normans as much as you.” Duncan gave a humorless laugh. “Probably more as they’ve been railing against them longer…since William the Conqueror.”

  “Yet you’re half Norman, too. You fight for them—”

  “Since I was sixteen and joined King John’s army to make my way in the world. One must take a stand and choose a side…as well you know.”

  “Aye.”

  Again silence fell and a heaviness, too, as if the weight and responsibility of their opposing worlds had settled upon them.

  Duncan thought of Maire sleeping in the other room…while Ronan glanced over his shoulder toward the dwelling-house that sheltered Triona and his newborn twins. But finally it was Duncan who reached out his hand toward Ronan.
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br />   “We’re family now no matter rebel Irish or Norman. Let’s swear here and now to peace between us for the sake of those we love…our wives and our children. Agreed?”

  Ronan took his hand firmly and nodded. “Aye, to peace between us.”

  “You must also swear never to raid on my lands in Meath or I will be forced to fight against you. Nor will those who answer to me ever trespass upon O’Byrne lands as long as I live and breathe.”

  “Agreed. I swear it.”

  “Good. Then it is done.” Duncan released Ronan’s hand at the same moment he caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye…Maire in her sleeping gown at the threshold to the bedchamber. Ronan saw her standing there, too, his expression immediately softening.

  “Maire…a good Christmas to you.”

  “And to you, Ronan. Is all well? The babes? Triona?”

  “Aye. Conor and Eva were suckling hungrily when I left them…and it’s time I head back.” Ronan looked again at Duncan. “Will you stay with us the three days, brother? I believe our wives would be most happy to hear it. I, too, would be pleased…and honored.”

  Duncan heard Maire’s soft intake of breath behind him as he nodded. “Three days.”

  No more was said as Ronan flashed a rare smile and then left them to stride across the yard, a gangly wolfhound suddenly running up to trot beside him.

  Shaking his head and smiling, too, Duncan closed the door against the cold night air.

  Yet he had no sooner turned around when Maire threw her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoes to kiss him.

  ***

  “Are you pleased, my love?”

  Triona glanced at Ronan, who cradled Conor in the crook of one arm and Deirdre in the other while Triona held Eva close against her. What a contrast, the two sisters! Deirdre wouldn’t stop squirming to get a better look at her new brother while Eva slept peacefully in Triona’s arms no matter the boisterous din in the feasting-hall.

  A din of music and laughter and the sounds of Norman and Irish alike enjoying their Christmas dinner. Triona smiled with tears brimming in her eyes as she nodded. “Aye, husband, more than pleased.”