The Warrior's Mission: A Celtic Historical Romance (The Warriors of Eriu Book 3)

by Mia Pride

  Och, she knew the ways of the world. Just as Elwynna had been used to satisfy the needs of men, few men would hesitate to take what they wanted when they wanted. While Flynn was incapable of moving, she was safe. But what would happen once he could get out of bed and she was still stuck in this hut with him? Would he keep his boundaries, or would he try to force himself on her? She had never heard a foul word against Flynn in all the time she had been living in Ráth Mór. Still, no woman had ever been stuck in a hut with him for so long. Who knew what he would do?

  Breathe, Maggie. She needed to stop torturing herself with the worst possibilities. She hated being so cursed afraid all the time, but she refused to become another victim to any man. Somehow, in a very short time, she had begun to trust Brennain. He had vowed never to hurt her, and he had been quite calm and gentle. He also vowed Flynn would not hurt her, but within moments of being awake, he had lashed out at her. If he had not been bedridden, would he have struck her? She was uncertain. How she wished Brennain had not left. He had quickly become the only other man, besides Àdhamh, whom she could trust.

  Thinking of her brother made her heart drop and she had to hold back her tears. She had left without a word to him. She knew she had had no time to locate him and explain why she had to go. She also knew Àdhamh would have tried to make her stay. He protected her fiercely and while she appreciated his constant concern for her, she was a woman: full grown and capable of her own decisions. Looking around the quiet hut, she wondered if her decision to come here had been a bad one. Àdhamh would never find her out here, even if he attempted to. She was trapped here until Brennain could return.

  A few hours had passed since he left, taking half the stew with him for his journey. She did not mind. He had caught the rabbit himself and would need the food, considering he had not a clue how long his journey would be. Before he left, Brennain showed Maggie how to use the nets to catch small game and walked her toward a stream that ran just east of the hut. She had access to fresh water, buckets, nets, a small garden of vegetables that were hearty enough to last a fortnight or longer, and enough wood to burn. They would be warm and fed, and Maggie felt an unusual sense of pride knowing she would be the one to gather all the food, build the fires and run the home.

  During their walk, she had spotted many berries and herbs she could not wait to get her hands on. Bilberries were everywhere in Ériu at this time of year and not only were they hearty, they were said to be one of the healthiest foods a person could eat. Though it was a bit late in the season and most berries in her village would have been collected, out here in the wilderness, she had all the berries to herself. She could pick wild herbs and mayhap discover new plants.

  Her spirits lifted slightly. She had been just telling herself how very badly she wished to get out to see the world. This could be her chance. After all, Flynn did not require her constant attention and would most likely appreciate having her out and about most of the days, allowing him to rest or simply be away from her constant presence.

  “Maggie?” Flynn’s voice floated over to her from the bed. He sounded weak and slightly hesitant, which made her frown. How could a man as strong and handsome as Flynn possibly be hesitant about anything?

  “Aye?” She looked up and turned away from the fire she had been mindlessly staring into for the past several hours while he slept.

  “I… need to…” His voice trailed off before she heard the rest of his muffled sentence.

  Furrowing her brow, she stood up and slowly walked over to him, making sure to stay out of reaching distance in case he tried to grab her. She was being ridiculous, she knew, but she had grown up always being vigilant. “What do you need, Flynn?”

  “I need to piss.”

  Och. She had not given any thought to this part of caring for him. Looking around the room, she found a bronze pot and swiftly moved to grab it. “Here.” She thrust the pot into his hands and turned away.

  “I cannot piss lying down,” he murmured.

  “Right,” she agreed hesitantly. Walking back toward him, she looked down at him and sighed. “I can help you sit up but ‘twill hurt you terribly.”

  “I hurt terribly now. And holding my piss for the past three hours has not helped.” He sounded irritated and she wanted to scowl at him, but kept her face neutral.

  “I never asked you to hold your… piss,” she said, and cleared her throat.

  “You are too afraid to come near me, and I did not wish to aggrieve you,” he countered. “I shall not hurt you, Maggie. I would never hurt or force a lass. Is this what you fear?” Hurt flashed in his eyes. It was the same look she had seen on Brennain’s face. These men did not like their honor being questioned. She supposed that was a fine trait in a man, but honor also caused men to do things in the name of pride. Once pride and honor were damaged, men could lose their temper, she knew.

  Suddenly, Maggie felt weary of her fears constantly controlling every move she made. In that moment, she made a vow to herself. No more being afraid of her own shadow. She would not allow her fears to control her any longer. What sort of a life was she living when she was too afraid to even speak? And if Flynn dared to hurt her, she would make certain his brother heard about it upon his return. “Nay, I am not afraid of you.” She forced the words to sound as confident and calm as she could.

  “Then please help me,” he said, so desperately that any real fear left her immediately and was replaced by pity and a bit of shame. He was a vulnerable man right now and had not done anything to make her fear him, aside from his one show of anger. He needed her help and she would give it.

  Walking over to Flynn, she gently lifted him to a sitting position. He hollered at the pain but there was no way of sitting him up without having to use the injured part of his side. “This will not work, Flynn. Your wound is much too new. We will do this another way.”

  “’Tis embarrassing,” he groaned as he plopped down. “Asking a bonny lass to help me piss is quite humbling.”

  She paused. He thought her bonny? How could such a handsome, strong, and brave man have ever even noticed she existed? She supposed he had to notice now that they were alone, but to think her bonny was quite a shock. She hid her flush as best she could while she thought of another way to help him with his delicate situation. In all her years healing injured men, never had she been their sole caretaker, having to worry about details such as helping them relieve themselves, nor did she know how to help him now. Just the thought of… that part of him, made her feel an unfamiliar mix of uncertainty and curiosity. What does his look like? She had seen a few in her life, even if she did not wish to. Did she wish to see his? The tingle rolling down her body told her that she did, even if it was shameful to think about Flynn in that manner while he was in her care.

  “Maggie?” His questioning voice pulled her thoughts back to the present.

  “If you roll over onto your uninjured side, I can hold the pot while you… handle the rest.”

  He nodded, deciding it was the best option and rolled onto his side away from her. This meant she would have to lean over his body, which was precisely what she did not want to have to do. Bracing herself with one hand against the cold wall, she positioned the pot beside him. He pulled the thick fur away from his body and began to fumble with the tie on his trousers, cursing under his breath as his clumsy hands shook.

  After what felt like an eternity, Flynn growled with frustration. “The string is tangled,” he murmured.

  Maggie looked down to see that he was having a very hard time getting the string from his trousers undone. She almost offered to help, but caught herself just before the words came out. She pursed her lips and crinkled her brow when her gaze caught his. Flynn’s eyelids slid shut and he turned away. “I need help,” he whispered.

  Pity for the man filled Maggie. He was a strong warrior and obviously one of the king’s finest to be constantly sent on important missions. For him to be injured and dependent on a lass to untie his trousers so he could re
lieve himself must be humiliating, and she loathed to add any more discomfort for him.

  Silently, Maggie placed the pot down beside him and leaned closer, using her nails to dig into the frayed woolen string of his trousers. He really ought to have these repaired, but that was none of her concern, except that it was now her task to untangle it.

  Aside from the popping of the hearth behind her, the entire room was silent as she frantically worked at the knot. The muscles on his bare chest bunched and strained as her hands worked. She tried to concentrate but she was so distracted by his masculine scent and the beauty of him that she had to swallow more than once.

  Flynn stayed stiff as a wooden board and averted his eyes when she finally got the last of the knot out and his trousers slackened. The trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen continued below his waistline and she wondered about what else was beneath his trousers, before scolding herself for allowing her mind to wander once more. It was improper to stare at his body, especially that part of him she could see bulging just beneath the fabric of his trousers. She tried not to notice, but it was at eye level as she tugged on the string and it was just so… large. Having spent her entire life avoiding men and therefore, all parts of them, she was flustered at being so close to his male parts. Aye, as a healer she had been close to many men, but never so close to their nether regions where she could see its outline up close, or felt that pulse of excitement in her own body at the thought of seeing more. She tried to focus on her breathing and knew her chest heaved more than normal. She hoped Flynn would not notice her sudden flush or flustered movements.

  Finally tearing her gaze away, she looked at his face and gasped at the intensity staring back at her. His green eyes were hooded by heavy lids and he seemed to be memorizing her every feature, just as she did the same. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen and though it seemed ridiculous for such a large, masculine man to be beautiful, he truly was. Many in his family had bright green eyes, but none more vibrant than Flynn’s, or mayhap that was simply her unnerving attraction to him exaggerating their beauty. His tan skin and black hair gave him a dark, mysterious edge that only drew her in more. He was, without a doubt, the most well-made man she had ever met. Still, she knew nothing about him or his mysterious missions, or what he was capable of.

  That thought brought her spiraling back down to reality. She was much too close and though he was injured, she would be wise to keep her guard up, especially with the way he was looking at her. “’Tis done,” she whispered, and leaned over once more to grab the pot. “Are you… ready?”

  Flynn shot up from the bed, standing abruptly and using the wall for balance as his free hand held his trousers around his waist. Maggie gasped and backed away, unsure of what he was doing. He groaned and pushed off the wall, swerving slightly but holding his ground. He turned and stepped toward her with a look in his eyes that was nothing less than pure determination. She wanted to run, but her feet betrayed her and refused to move. Dazed with fear, Maggie’s eyes widened as he took another step toward her. He was large, half-naked with his trousers only loosely held in one hand, and obviously powerful enough to ignore the pain of such a terrible wound. As he came closer, his large frame towering above her, she flinched and closed her eyes, awaiting his punishment for whatever she had done wrong. Had she taken too long to undo his string? Her papa would have punished her mama for much less.

  When no strike came, she opened her eyes slowly and looked back up at him hesitantly. His brow dropped and a frown pulled at his lips. Putting out one hand, he gestured at the bronze pot she was clutching with white-knuckled intensity in front of her body. “The pot,” he growled, just before yanking it out of her hands with force. She screeched and backed up a step. He was going to use the pot to beat her and even when injured, she knew he was much stronger than she was. Why could she not move, or run? What sort of survival instincts had she learned in all these years if the best she could do in the face of an aggressive man was to stare and stand still?

  “Leave, Maggie. Make sure Arawn has food and water… please,” he forced and winced. Aye, he was in great pain, yet for some reason he was out of bed, ordering her to feed someone named Arawn? Who was Arawn and why was Flynn demanding she leave? “My horse,” he clarified through clenched teeth.

  She was so frightened by his sudden show of aggression that she did not wait even a moment longer to run for the door, away from him. He confused her more than any man ever had in her life. One moment he was kind and gentle, and she was certain she could trust him. The next moment he was jumping out of bed and storming toward her, demanding she leave. Mayhap he had a fever and was temporarily mad? Maggie had noticed sweat beading on his brow as he tore the pot from her hands. She would check later. For now, her heart beat so fast, she could hardly breathe. She wanted to run far away from Flynn Mac Greine, but knew she was trapped in the middle of nowhere until Brennain came back for them… until then, she would have to be brave, tend Flynn’s wound, and avoid him as much as possible.

  Chapter Six

  The moment Maggie was out of the house, Flynn collapsed back onto the bed and wiped the sweat from his face. His side ached fiercely and it had been a mistake to force himself out of the bed. But when her wee, soft hands kept accidentally grazing the bulge in his trousers as she tried to undo the knot, it had taken every ounce of control he owned not to grow hard before her eyes. She was an innocent lass trying to care for him. She would not appreciate seeing his desire so boldly on display. But then the knot came loose, his trousers slackened, and he saw her gazing upon his body. Her eyes locked on his cock, then moved to his chest. It had been an innocent curious inspection, he knew. Maggie was much too timid to ever boldly stare. And yet, that curiosity from the innocent lass of his dreams had made him go rock hard.

  She held that cursed pot in her hands, prepared to help him piss, but she would have swooned had she seen what lay beneath his trousers. There had been no way to hide it and it most definitely was not going to go away. But he could not relieve himself with a hard cock. So, in his panic, he jumped out of the bed and decided to manage the task himself. And to do so, she had to be gone. Before he could relieve his bladder, he had to relieve his desire.

  Collapsing on the bed and sprawling on his back, he prayed to all the gods she would stay away long enough to allow him to stroke himself until his pleasure was spent. It was a humiliating moment, but with his desire running rampant and no other relief in sight, he had to take care of his body’s base urges if he was to remain near the beautiful Maggie without a huge erection all the cursed time.

  Once he was done imagining his own hand was Maggie’s, and then waiting several moments before being able to piss in the pot, he pulled his trousers up over his hips and decided to leave them untied. The cursed string was so frayed, it would only knot up again and as much as he enjoyed her hands so near his body, it also led to a situation he could not allow. Once he was healed, he would be off to his solitary life again, running missions for his king. There was simply no place in his life for Maggie and he had to remind himself of that every blasted moment. She was too innocent to simply have a few sweet moments of bliss with him like a serving lass, and he could not offer her marriage… not that she seemed at all interested in him. In fact, she seemed rather terrified of him.

  Flynn cursed himself a bastard. His abrupt jump from the bed had frightened the life out of the lass. By the way she froze in place and stared up at him like a cornered animal, he knew she feared him. And when he approached her to grab the pot, she flinched, clearly awaiting some punishment, for what, he had no idea. Had she seen the reason for his behavior straining beneath his trousers, she would have likely been even more frightened.

  A sudden realization hit him fast and hard. Maggie was a victim of some form of abuse. No lass flinched as often as Maggie did without cause.

  Fool that he was, he always assumed she was simply timid, but now it made sense. When she was around larger groups of people or abs
orbed in her work, she felt confident and safe; yet when she was alone with just men, she was fearful. He wanted to rip the spine out of whomever had hurt his Maggie. And since when had he started considering her his Maggie? He was out of his mind for her and she was scared to death of him. His heart lurched at that realization. It was just as well that she had no attraction to him, but to fear him? Nay, it was not to be borne.

  He had behaved like a brute. He was a brute. He needed to control his desire for her, and chasing her away to hide it was not going to work. He could not have Maggie, but could he show her that not all men are violent? Could he make her see she could trust him? This would require him to open up to her, which he had so thoroughly avoided in the past. Keeping people at a distance made his comings and goings much simpler. He knew he could not remain closed to her and earn her trust. It suddenly became the most important goal in his life. Nothing else mattered more than teaching Maggie to trust again. He could not stand to watch her flinch or cower anymore. Mayhap once she learned to trust him, she could open herself up to a real relationship with a man and find love, marriage, and a family.

  The thought of Maggie with another man, carrying his child, made his stomach churn with envy. He would essentially be helping her move on to love another and yet, he would make that sacrifice if it meant she did not have to live in the shadows any longer. She was much too sweet, kind, and bonny to be living with her brother and his wife for the rest of her life. This would be Flynn’s gift to her, his repayment for her own sacrifices for him.