Surrender to an Irish Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  Morren’s smile grew strained, for although Katla had given her an extra gown, the Viking woman was taller. The hemline needed to be adjusted, but she hadn’t had time. In the meanwhile, she had no other gown but the one she wore. It embarrassed her, thinking of how she must appear to the Queen.

  Trahern caught another servant and spoke to him beneath his breath. Morren couldn’t make out what he’d said, but the servant raced away to do his bidding.

  The Queen led them inside the Great Chamber, and Morren saw two men seated with their wives and several children running around, chasing the dogs. There was an air of contentment, and the blond man scooped a toddling child out of harm’s way, just as one of the dogs skidded to a halt.

  A pang caught Morren’s heart at the sight of another woman seated near the fire, nursing a newborn infant. The woman’s hair was veiled, and a dark-haired man eyed her with a protective air.

  Two of the men came forward, and from their resemblance to each other, Morren guessed they were brothers. ‘These are my brothers Bevan,’ Trahern introduced her to the dark-haired man, ‘and Connor.’ He pointed to the blond man.

  ‘My God, he has hair again,’ Connor teased, as he pounded Trahern on the back. ‘As old as you’re getting, I wasn’t sure it would grow back.’

  ‘You’re only a year younger than me,’ Trahern pointed out. ‘And as for my hair, the nights were growing colder. It was time to grow it out again.’

  But Morren wasn’t so certain that was the true reason. Her hand bumped against his and she whispered, ‘I like it better this way.’

  Bevan gave a nod of agreement. ‘You’re looking more like your old self. I’m glad of it.’

  Trahern’s expression grew uncomfortable, and he turned his attention back to introductions, leading Morren forward to the veiled woman who held the infant. ‘This is Bevan’s wife, Genevieve.’

  Another woman approached to welcome her, and Trahern introduced her as Connor’s wife, Aileen. ‘She’s the most skilled healer I’ve ever known.’

  After greeting Aileen, Morren turned back to Genevieve. The woman smiled, but there was exhaustion in her features, as though she’d been up all night. ‘I would stand to welcome you, but I’m afraid my daughter, Alanna, would protest.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Morren managed a smile, but inwardly, her thoughts went back to her own lost pregnancy. The hollow ache hadn’t faded, despite the weeks gone by. She marvelled at the tiny fingers of the babe, the head so delicate that she could hold it in the palm of her hand.

  Genevieve patted a seat beside her. ‘Come and join me, if you’d like to warm yourself by the fire.’

  Morren sat with the woman, and moments later, one of the children came to inspect her. The young boy strode over with a confident air. ‘I’m Liam MacEgan. Who are you, and are you going to wed my uncle Trahern?’

  Morren blinked at the direct question. She gave her name and said, ‘No, I’m not going to marry your uncle.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’ Liam planted his hands on his hips.

  Beside her, Genevieve’s mouth tightened to avoid a smile. ‘Liam, it’s not polite to ask so many questions of someone you’ve just met. Tell her you’re sorry.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. But in his eyes, she saw that he wasn’t sorry at all, only curious.

  Morren folded her hands in her lap, not bothering to hide her own smile. She’d always liked children, and Liam had a smile that was every bit as captivating as Trahern’s. She realised he’d been named for the eldest MacEgan brother, who had died years ago.

  Abruptly, the boy reached for her hand and dropped a kiss on the back of her wrist.

  ‘Liam…’ Genevieve warned. ‘What did you do that for?’

  ‘My Uncle Ewan said that when you want something from a lady, you’re supposed to kiss her.’

  ‘Oh, did he?’ Genevieve rolled her eyes. ‘Ewan would say that, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Does it work?’ Trahern interrupted, a gleam in his eyes.

  Liam frowned, staring at Morren’s hand. ‘Not yet. But I would like a honey cake or a sweet. If you have one.’ He sent Morren a broad smile, and she couldn’t help but answer it.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have any food with me.’

  Trahern nodded to Liam. ‘You’d best go to the kitchens, lad. Practise your kissing on one of the maids, and perhaps you’ll get your honey cake.’

  The young boy took the hint. Isabel leaned down and kissed his forehead, before the lad scampered away. ‘Liam is my eldest son,’ the Queen explained. ‘He’s being fostered with Bevan and Genevieve and is here to visit for the Samhain festivities.’

  ‘You still celebrate the old ways?’ Morren knew that many clans held on to the ancient traditions, though most of the churches frowned upon it.

  ‘I see no harm in celebrating with family and friends. Any excuse for food, drinking and storytelling is welcome here.’ Isabel’s gaze turned to Trahern in an unspoken hint.

  ‘There is no greater bard than Trahern,’ Morren said. ‘I’ve always loved his stories.’

  Trahern appeared pleased at the compliment, and his eyes softened upon her. Morren’s gaze travelled to his mouth, remembering the feel of his lips.

  Connor elbowed his brother, his grin light-hearted. ‘Liam’s right, you know. Kissing a woman is quite good for getting what you want.’ With a knowing smile, he leaned down and kissed his wife, Aileen. ‘If you know how to kiss. But you may be out of practice, Trahern.’

  Morren’s face turned crimson, and Connor didn’t miss her blush. ‘Or perhaps not.’

  ‘Stop your teasing, Connor.’ The Queen swatted at him and offered, ‘Morren, if you’d like to escape their company, I’ll take you above stairs now.’

  She followed the Queen and a maid up the winding stairs and down a narrow corridor. The maid opened the door to the solar, and Isabel gestured for Morren to enter.

  ‘Genevieve will join us, once she’s finished feeding Alanna,’ Isabel said. She ordered the maid to bring a basin of warm water and a clean léine and overdress. ‘She’ll want to hear about everything.’

  ‘Everything?’

  A secretive smile crossed the Queen’s face. ‘Trahern has never brought a woman to Laochre before. You must mean a great deal to him.’

  Morren shook her head. ‘No. We’re friends, nothing more.’

  ‘He never took his eyes from you. Not even once,’ Isabel pointed out. ‘It may be that you’re friends now, but perhaps later—’

  ‘No.’ Morren cut her off. ‘That’s all there is between us.’ She decided to give the Queen a shortened version of her story. ‘Our cashel was attacked, and Trahern’s betrothed wife, Ciara, was killed. I survived the attack, and I’ve promised to help identify the raiders. We think they were among the Lochlannach who dwell at Gall Tír, not far from here.’

  Isabel frowned. ‘That can’t be true. The Hardrata tribe members are our allies. Patrick’s Great-Uncle Tharand lived there, long ago. Their men have no reason to attack a settlement so far from here. Are you certain it’s them?’

  Morren nodded. ‘Trahern can tell you more.’

  Isabel seemed to sense her reluctance, and she offered, ‘My maid will help you dress for the meal. You are welcome here at Laochre, and if you’ve the need for anything, simply ask.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. After the Queen had left, the maid helped her into the borrowed green léine and overdress. Thankfully, the gown fit her better than the one Katla had given.

  Morren sat down while the maid helped comb the tangles from her hair. The relaxing motion made her close her eyes for a moment. Trahern’s family had a boisterous air that made her feel welcomed.

  The door opened a few minutes later, and she saw the dark-haired healer, Aileen, standing there, with Trahern behind. Morren couldn’t understand what they wanted, but when she saw the devastated expression on Aileen’s face, she knew.

  Trahern had told the healer.

  Morren loo
ked away, her face crimson with shame. She didn’t want anyone scrutinising her, nor had she wanted anyone else to know.

  Aileen dismissed the maid, and Morren sent a hard look towards Trahern. Why had he told a stranger of her dishonour? There was no need for it. She’d healed well enough.

  ‘I asked Aileen to come and look at you,’ Trahern said. ‘I thought that after the birth—’

  Anger rose up from inside her, betrayal that he’d told an other woman of her shame. ‘No. I’m fine.’

  ‘Trahern said that you lost your babe, a few weeks ago,’ Aileen said gently. ‘He wanted to ensure that you’ve fully healed.’

  ‘I have,’ she snapped. ‘And I need no one to examine me.’

  She knew she sounded ungrateful and harsh, but she couldn’t understand why he’d revealed her secret.

  ‘Trahern, leave us,’ Aileen ordered. Though her voice was calm, there was a firm tone to it. He looked as though he didn’t want to, but in the end, he obeyed.

  Aileen closed the door behind him. After long moments passed, she admitted, ‘He’s afraid.’

  ‘Afraid of what?’

  ‘He tended you that night, and he’s afraid he did something wrong. He wanted to be sure that you were all right.’

  ‘I am.’ Morren gripped her arms, rubbing them for warmth.

  ‘I know what it’s like, to lose a child,’ Aileen said. Upon her face were the lines of sorrow, the unspoken pain. ‘I went through six years of being childless. And I’ve miscarried several times.’ She pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘I won’t ask you questions you don’t want to answer. But know that you’ve a friend to speak with, if you have the need.’

  Morren’s chest ached, and she clenched her teeth together. No, she didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to forget all about the pain and devastation of that night.

  But she answered, ‘That’s kind of you.’ She met Aileen’s gaze, adding, ‘The bleeding stopped several days ago. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘If you start to feel feverish, or if you have any more cramping, please tell me. I’ll do what I can.’ Changing the subject, Aileen said, ‘Would you like to help with the preparations for Samhain? I’m certain Isabel would be glad of an extra set of hands.’

  Morren nodded, grateful for a means of occupying herself.

  ‘We’re helping the children to make masks this afternoon,’ Aileen said. ‘They usually wear them on Samhain Eve, but the adults also wear their own masks. After the children have gone to sleep, we have our own celebration. The masks can make the evening more adventurous.’

  Aileen began to lead the way down the stairs. Halfway, she stopped and regarded her. ‘He cares about you, Trahern does. If you’re wanting more than friendship, you’ve only to reach out to him.’

  Morren said nothing, for she didn’t know what to think any more. She was still upset with him for telling Aileen about her lost child.

  He wanted to be sure you were all right, Aileen had said. Had he told Aileen about that night? Did the healer know more than she should?

  Though he’d intended to ensure that she was all right, it felt like a betrayal. Her stomach hurt when she walked downstairs with Aileen.

  Inside the Great Chamber, long tables were heaped with food. Freshly baked fish, meat pies and boiled goose eggs were offered for all to share. Aileen brought her to sit with the family, and Morren saw that Trahern had also changed his clothing. Unbidden, she found herself staring at him.

  He truly was a handsome man, with sharp features. There was a great deal of his grandfather’s blood within him, for now that she could see him among his brothers, she realised that he didn’t resemble them much at all. Only their eyes were similar in colour.

  When Trahern caught sight of her, he crossed the room to take her palm in his. He led her to sit beside him, murmuring, ‘You look beautiful, a chara.’

  His compliment was unexpected. Beautiful wasn’t the word she’d use to describe herself. She murmured her thanks, but didn’t meet his eyes.

  He leaned in, his breath upon her ear. ‘I told Aileen nothing, except that you lost your babe. That’s all.’

  He’d sensed what was troubling her. She couldn’t stop the relief, knowing that her terrible secret was safe. She rested her cheek against his. ‘I wish you hadn’t said anything.’ Her loss was still too raw, and she didn’t want to think of it.

  ‘I want you to be all right,’ he said, his hand reaching around to touch her neck. ‘I couldn’t do much for you that night. And when you refused to see the Lochlannach healer, I thought you might agree to let Aileen help you.’

  ‘I’d rather not,’ she said, pulling back. Forcing herself to look into his eyes, she added, ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I thought you had told Aileen…everything.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that to you.’

  She squeezed his hand in silent forgiveness, and he walked her toward his family, who were seated at a long table upon a dais. They were prevented from further conversation when they sat among the other MacEgans.

  Liam MacEgan kept coming to ask her questions, and Connor’s twin boys followed their cousin everywhere. The noise and bustle of the large family was infectious, and by the end of the meal, Morren found herself holding Genevieve’s baby daughter, Alanna.

  The baby’s blue-grey eyes were serious, her tiny mouth pursed up like a rosebud. She was perhaps three months old, and when Morren lifted the babe to her shoulder, Alanna opened her mouth and began rooting against her neck.

  It was bittersweet, to feel the warm baby skin against her own. If she hadn’t lost her child, she’d have a rounded bump now. Perhaps she’d even have felt a kick or two.

  ‘I haven’t anything to feed you, little one,’ she apologised.

  ‘She’s just been fed,’ Genevieve offered. ‘She’ll be fine.’

  A moment later, Alanna stuffed a tiny fist into her mouth and began suckling it. Her downy head pressed against Morren, and within moments she was asleep.

  ‘Do you want me to take her?’ a voice asked. Turning, she saw Aileen. The healer’s tone was gentle, knowing how difficult it was.

  But Morren couldn’t bring herself to let the child go. ‘Not yet.’ She cupped the baby’s head, smoothing at the downy hair on Alanna’s scalp.

  Trahern sent her a smile, and there was a softness beneath it. He looked for all the world like a man who was meant to be a father. Though he was older than many of his brothers, there was a yearning in his face.

  A part of her ached, knowing that another woman would have to give him that, for it wouldn’t be her.

  Shakily, Morren offered Alanna back to Genevieve. She picked at her food, finding it hard to concentrate.

  Beside her, Trahern’s leg pressed against her own. Hard and muscled, she remembered the touch of his body. But instead of frightening her, she was drawn to him.

  If you’re wanting more than friendship, you’ve only to reach out to him. Aileen’s words resonated in her mind, making her wonder.

  Several of the men rose, after their meal. She spied Connor and Bevan talking together, before Trahern leaned in. ‘We’re going to Gall Tír.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Now.’ His expression darkened, and she felt the urge to shiver.

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Though she knew it was necessary, a coldness slipped down her body, flooding her veins.

  ‘Not this time. We’re going under the guise of a visit. If you go with us, it may alert the raiders.’

  ‘Be safe,’ she said, gripping his hand. A prayer came to her lips, for he and the men to return unharmed.

  His hand squeezed her fingers. ‘I’ll come back tonight.’

  Morren didn’t miss Isabel and Aileen’s knowing looks, but she said nothing. She didn’t want to think about what was happening between herself and Trahern. Something had shifted, somehow. Now that he was among his family, his anger was softening. Moment by moment, he was starting to return to the man she’d known.

&
nbsp; It unsettled her. As long as his focus was upon avenging Ciara’s death, he hadn’t looked upon her with anything but friendship. But more and more, she felt intertwined with Trahern, bound to him in a way she didn’t understand.

  He started to walk towards his brothers, but stopped suddenly. She waited to see what it was he wanted. Before she could take another breath, he pulled her close and kissed her hard.

  ‘Until tonight, a mhuirnín.’

  Later, Morren joined Isabel, Genevieve and Aileen in helping the children to make their masks for Samhain. The activity brought back moments of her own childhood when she and Jilleen had laboured over their own masks.

  Made of wood bark and pitch, the fragile masks wouldn’t last more than a single night or two. Liam was seated away from his cousins with his completed mask drying upon the table. He laboured over a turnip, scraping out the insides.

  ‘It will be a lantern,’ he promised. ‘And Cavan and I will try to catch one of the sídhe on All Hallow’s Eve.’ He beamed at the thought. ‘Maybe we’ll find one of the dead.’

  ‘You’re the one who will be a dead man if you and Cavan leave this ringfort after dark,’ the Queen warned.

  Though Liam sent a contrite look to his mother, Morren didn’t miss his impish wink. After he’d finished hollowing out the turnip for his lantern, Liam brought her a piece of birch to decorate as a mask.

  ‘I have one made of silver that you may borrow,’ Queen Isabel offered. ‘After the feast, we’ll have dancing, games, and perhaps we can convince Trahern to tell stories.’

  ‘He might,’ Morren said. Studying the fragile birch, she reassured Liam, ‘I think this mask will do nicely. I won’t need another.’

  A boyish smile creased his face. ‘I’ll find goose feathers for you. You can decorate the mask with them.’ He hurried off in search of them.

  But though Morren continued working on the mask, as time crept on, she found herself worrying more and more about Trahern. She wasn’t the only one who was restless. After another hour, the boys began chasing each other around the chamber.