The Seventh Son

by Ashley York

  Tisa tensed against his assault. “Even though ye dunna desire me?”

  “There are ways I can ease yer needs.”

  “I have no needs, Darragh. Leave me that way.”

  He kissed her neck and pulled her tight against him. “Methinks ye do have needs.”

  She turned to face him. “Am I not a good wife to ye?”

  Darragh glanced at her lips. “Ye are. Too good. I can play the part for ye.”

  “There is no need when we are alone.”

  “I’ve seen this many times and I’ll be very good at it... at setting ye on fire.”

  Brushing his lips over hers, his insistent tongue slid along the seam of her mouth. Surely he would lose interest. She opened her mouth to him but he deepened the kiss, surprising her. Pressing her back, he leaned over her a little too heavily.

  His mouth dropped to her neck, nibbling and stroking with his strong tongue, as his hand rubbed across her breasts. Except for the fierceness of his touch, he was quite adept but it did not stir her.

  He yanked his head back, a scowl on his face. “What is that stench?”

  Darragh looked past her to the pile beyond the chest. Her disguise.

  She used the interruption as an excuse to sit up but he held her with a firm arm. “I slipped by the horses. I need to see to that.”

  “Is that not men’s clothing?”

  “Nae!”

  Darragh sat up with her, pulling her into his arms and again covered her mouth with his hard kisses.

  He pulled back. “If ye have needs, Tisa, ye need to allow me to see to them.”

  “To what purpose? Ye have no need for my passion. Ye seek passion and fulfillment that I canna give ye.”

  “I will not have ye go to another.” His tone was reprimanding.

  “I will not go to another, husband.”

  He searched her face then lay down again, keeping her in a tight grip. “Then rest against me until the pain in yer head has gone.”

  She needed him to leave her to her thoughts. “Ian will be angry with ye.”

  “He kens he is lucky to have my attention.”

  Tisa closed her eyes and tried to settle her inner turmoil. Her father could not have lain with Tadhg’s mother.

  “When my father told me I was to marry, I expected a spoiled girl that I could never satisfy. A girl who would belittle me as I’d always been belittled. My father said my marrying ye was best for the clan that I would one day lead. I ken he never expected me to lead. I was not my brother.”

  Tisa heard the sadness in his voice. Was it for the loss of a brother or for his father’s disappointment in him?

  “Yer father believes ye are capable of leading now, does he not?”

  Darragh’s arm tightened around her. “I believe he does and ‘tis ye I have to thank.”

  “I have done nothing.”

  “Ye accepted me. Ye sought to protect me.”

  “And myself.”

  “I ken but ye could easily have come here and chosen one of my father’s many warriors to take to yer bed.”

  “I would never do that, Darragh.”

  “Well I ken it. Ye have stood up to any who would degrade me—even Gerrit. Because of ye, I have the desire to no longer cower in the path of others’ judgments. I will become who I was intended to be.”

  He was quiet for a long while and Tisa wondered if he’d dozed off. Her thoughts returned to Aednat and Aoife and the rest of the outcasts. She was tempted to awaken him and encourage him to leave.

  “I have very few memories of Malachi—my brother,” he said, his voice quiet. “I was very small when he died. I remember him throwing me into the air and catching me, and his smiling face looking up at me. He was a formidable warrior. Strong. I believe I am strong as well.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Are ye feeling any better?”

  “A bit.”

  “Good, then I must quit this place for that disgusting odor is overwhelming my gut.”

  Leaving the bed, he went back to his room then left without another word.

  Tisa lay on her back. When Darragh’s brother died, he was probably about the same age as she was when her mother died. A long while now. And yet, her father never sought comfort in another’s arms that she knew of.

  Was it her father Tadhg spoke of?

  My father’s most favored friend.

  It could be none other.

  Brighit was the only female in his family. Could Brighit be her half-sister?

  The questions that Tadhg had ignited with his words made it impossible for her to remain with him in the cave. Not without revealing her true identity. She would have badgered him with questions. Questions she needed the answers to even now.

  Was this past transgression the reason Padraig had broken from them? The reason the betrothal was broken? The reason she lost her one chance for happiness?

  The pain increased at her temples. She covered herself with the blanket. Either she would doze off and feel better or she would throw up. With the stench of manure wafting up to her, she was almost certain it would be the latter.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ~

  ON THE FIRST CLEAR day, the sun high in the sky revealed the damage to the coast from the unrelenting storms. It also gave the men an opportunity to get out of their houses. Tempers were flaring despite attempts at fighting practice held within. Even with the slippery ground, a chance for unrestrained fighting was a godsend. It was the Godwin’s idea to make a competition out of it.

  “We’ve many fine warriors here. Which clan offers the best? How about a wager on it?” Aodh held up a heavy sack of coins. “Or a great purse?”

  The others cheered and nodded, slapping each other on the back, encouraging one another at the chance to take home such a prize.

  Tadhg, unlike the other men, had not chosen to remain inside. His need for solitude had carried him out even in the fiercest snows. That he had not met again with his own outcast was not for lack of trying. To have to stay here now to appease the other men’s need for sport did not sit well with him. Besides, good-natured sport could so easily become a battle to the death.

  “What say ye, Tadhg?” Lughaidh asked. He had made friends with some of the Meic Lochlainn men despite Aodh’s attempt to keep them separated. “Could be entertaining. I could use the coins he offers.”

  “Ye have my leave to compete. I dunna choose to.”

  The man nodded. “Then I think I will put my name in.”

  Tadhg watched his retreating back.

  “Not participating, Tadhg?” It was Gerrit who came up to stand beside him.

  The man had not spoken to Tadhg since the night he had rescued Tisa. The leathered man seemed to look right through him on all other occasions. That Gerrit chose to speak to Tadhg at this moment gave him pause.

  “Now why would ye suddenly have an interest in who participates? Could it have been at yer urging that Aodh offered this entertainment? Mayhap even yer own purse?”

  “A good way for the men to work off their tempers.”

  “Ah! Concern for the men? Or easy targets for ye to use for yer own sport?” Many of the warriors collected had far less experience in battle than Tadhg or Sean. Or Gerrit.

  Gerrit’s lips curved up but it could not be described as a smile. “Are ye not willing to show yer mettle?”

  “I show my mettle in battle,” Tadhg answered, crossing his arms. “Not for entertainment and not for wealth.”

  Gerrit tipped his head back to let out a hearty laugh. The sound carried and many of the curious warriors looked their way.

  “Ah, ye speak nobly and yet...” his smile vanished, his face leveled to Tadhg’s, “I ken ye are less than that in truth.”

  Kicking this man’s arse was quickly becoming a worthwhile endeavor. “An opportunity to see ye flat on yer backside would give me great pleasure.”

  Gerrit’s blue eyes twinkled. “I dunna believe that will be the case.”

  “Of course
ye dunna. Bullies rarely recognize their own weaknesses.”

  The man’s face darkened, all pretense of humor gone. “I will enjoy showing ye the error of yer ways.” He stepped in close, his nostrils flaring. “And teaching ye to keep yerself out of things that are not yer concern.”

  “Who else will partake?” Leofrid asked from where he stood beside the ice-covered yard. Several men were assembling a raised seating area where he and Aodh could watch the entertainment.

  “Here!” Gerrit raised his hand, never taking his eyes from Tadhg. “And Tadhg will do the same.”

  Aodh’s eyes widened. “Aye. Tadhg! Entertaining, indeed.”

  “Piss and wind,” Gerrit growled before approaching his leader.

  “What say ye, Gerrit? Shall we work ye up to the O’Brien or start ye there?” Leofrid asked.

  “I believe ye should let them go first.” Darragh spoke in a loud voice. He moved closer to his father whose surprised expression quickly vanished. “Then I will kick the winner’s arse.”

  Gerrit faced him but Darragh showed no signs of cowering this time.

  “Are ye certain, Darragh?” Gerrit’s voice softened. “It may be myself ye will be fighting.”

  The crowd of men grew silent, all watching this encounter between Darragh and Gerrit. Even Aodh looked on with interest, stroking his beard. Darragh remained stoic.

  ‘Twas a strange relationship between these two—Darragh and Gerrit. Every time Tadhg approached Sean for information, the man refused to comment.

  Darragh worked himself harder than the rest at practice as if he had something to prove. His work was paying off. The man had become quite adept at hand-to-hand fighting as well as with the mace and broadsword. He, indeed, showed himself a fine protector for Tisa. Tadhg’s gut tightened.

  Darragh turned to Leofrid, continuing in the same loud voice. “I take the right to fight Tadhg first.” Then he turned back to Gerrit. “And then I will fight ye.”

  “Sword-to-sword here.” Leofrid smiled, indicating each area. “Hand-to-hand here.”

  Aodh offered a different course of action. “Let a tournament begin first. Tadhg, Gerrit and Darragh can fight it out after we watch the entertainment.”

  Tadhg and Gerrit agreed to Aodh’s suggestion on the way the day would progress. Darragh, growing more confident with each passing moment, did not. “I will enter the tournament, then I will deal with the other two!” Aodh simply smiled at his son and nodded.

  The frozen ground gave way to thick mud as the day progressed, the best warriors from each clan stepping up to fight. One by one, no clear winner stood out among the men as they moved up the ranks. When it was time to compete with Darragh, he easily became the champion in both sword and hand-to-hand competitions.

  Darragh bent at the waist to catch his breath, his hands resting on his knees.

  Aodh beamed at the man. “Ye show yerself a warrior unmatched.”

  The blond quickly stood upright, his chest swelling at the compliment. “My thanks, Father.”

  Leofrid also looked pleased. He had accomplished his goal. No doubt he needed to see these men and judge their ability in order to discern who would lead and how best to divide the ranks.

  “We wish to see yer son against the great MacNaughton,” a man from one of the western clans answered.

  “Yer son we’ve not heard of before,” another said. “Not like we’ve heard about the MacNaughton.”

  Tadhg couldn’t be sure if he’d heard about Sean or himself. It didn’t matter. A glance toward the longhouse confirmed that the man remained in a mire of discontent. Sean sat on a bench, leaning back with his elbows resting on the table set out with food and drink. His face was the face of a truly unhappy man.

  Keeping a man as active as Sean within for this many days was asking for trouble. That he didn’t seek immediate release by participating in fighting practice, whatever the reason for it, assured Tadhg that the man was missing his wife. There was nothing Tadhg could do for that.

  “Sean!” Tadhg called to him, walking toward him with long strides. “They’re hoping for some entertainment from the MacNaughton men. Can ye give yer assistance?”

  Sean scowled and looked away, crossing his arms about his chest.

  “Darragh is looking to get his arse kicked but I’ve my sights on Gerrit.”

  Sean’s scowl quickly turned to a tight smile and he strode toward the other warriors. “That man I’ve a bone to pick.”

  “Darragh? What are ye about? Ye said nothing to me.”

  Sean shoved him off his arm when he pulled on him to stop. “Ye dinna want to ken. I respected yer wishes.”

  Sean pulled off his leine and crossed to the man in nothing but his braies. The other men quickly circled around him as he approached Darragh. The muttering came to an abrupt stop.

  “Are ye looking to get yer arse kicked by a MacNaughton?” Sean asked.

  Darragh smirked. His recent accomplishments no doubt fresh in his minds.

  “I dunna mind setting ye on yer arse.” Darragh moved in closer to say something and Sean shoved him away.

  Tadhg felt like he’d missed something important. “Wait. Dunna start yet.”

  “Step away, Tadhg,” Aodh said, holding his hand up to halt Tadhg from getting any closer.

  Darragh threw a firm right to Sean’s torso with enough force to double the man over. Tadhg froze at the sight. Surely it was a ploy but Sean didn’t immediately straighten himself. For the first time in his life, Tadhg had deep concern for his friend.

  After a moment, Sean did right himself but he still seemed shaky. He wrapped an arm around Darragh’s middle, driving him back against the wooden post. No doubt, it was the man’s extremely satisfied grin that set Sean off and put the spark back into him.

  Fists flew as the two shoved off each other again and again, neither demonstrating any perceptible leverage over the other. One would fall and the other would grab him back up to punch him again.

  A glance toward Gerrit showed a man mesmerized by the sight. Tadhg did a double take. A bit too mesmerized. His body rigid. His breathing shallow. When he took a slow, deep breath and blew it out through open lips, Tadhg would swear the man was sexually aroused by the sight.

  Gerrit did not blink. His eyes remained fixed on the two. No, not the two of them but on Darragh. It became obvious. Each time Darragh fell, the man held his breath and when he came back up, he relaxed his shoulders. His jaw loose, closing with every punch received, wetting his lips when Darragh had the upper hand. How could Tadhg not have noticed this before now?

  A melodious gasp sounded behind him and Tadhg closed his eyes. He listened again to the sound in his mind. And again. Each time more distinct. More recognizable. He knew who made the sound before he even turned to see Tisa. The same sound as the man had made in the cave. Tadhg paused before he opened his eyes. His body was taut and when he turned, Tisa stood there. Her wide eyes were on Darragh and Sean as they flew past. Sean grabbed the other man by the head and ran him into the post. Darragh dropped at Sean’s feet. All around cheered.

  Ultan was not a man. Ultan was Tisa. The reason Tadhg felt so at peace talking to him. The reason Tadhg wanted to seek the man out. The reason Tadhg felt safe baring his soul to him. The reason he shared his deepest concerns as he’d always done with his own lovely Tisa. The love of his heart. The only woman he could ever love.

  When Tisa finally turned to Tadhg, he recognized her look of alarm.

  “Tadhg!” She dragged on him. “Tell Sean not to kill Darragh.”

  Her concern was for her husband. Of course. Tadhg strode over to assist Sean in lifting the unconscious man. Leofrid beamed, slapping Sean on the back.

  “Well done, Sean. Well done indeed.”

  Aodh was just as quick to congratulate Sean although his concerned glances toward his son were understood. When Darragh began to shake his head and mumble, the older man visibly relaxed.

  Tadhg turned to Tisa and said, “Yer husband will be fine.”<
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  Tisa did not go to Darragh but her relief was genuine. Tadhg wanted to ask if she loved the man. He wanted to confront her with her deception. He wanted to find out why she had deceived him not once, but twice. Instead, he stepped toward Leofrid.

  “I believe there is another match.”

  Leofrid’s pleasure gushed forth with his wide smile. “Tadhg and Gerrit! Aye, what a match.”

  Tadhg turned to find the man beside him back under control although his eyes darted toward Darragh who now stood between his father and his wife.

  Tadhg smirked at him. “Or would ye prefer to see to yer lover?”

  Gerrit turned dark eyes on him. A low growl that didn’t sound human was the only warning before Gerrit attacked him full force and his body slammed into Tadhg.

  Tisa was not so naive as to think her husband needed her attention. His own mother had said even as a child, he’d never sought comfort from her. So she watched from the longhouse. Darragh looked like he’d been through hell but Sean looked hale and hearty. He swaggered toward her, a huge bruise across the side of his smirking face.

  “Tisa.” He nodded and opened the door to go inside the longhouse.

  “Halt!” Tisa fumed. “What are ye thinking?”

  Sean made an elaborate show of looking to see if she was, indeed, talking to him, even looking around him to see if someone else was nearby before pointing to his own chest with a questioning look.

  “Ye’re quite the entertainment. Both here and with my husband.”

  “Tisa, yer husband had it coming to him.”

  “How so?”

  Sean’s shoulders raised then dropped with his deep breath. The painful expression that shot across his face indicated he did have some pain. That knowledge gave Tisa more satisfaction than it should have.

  “Sit with me,” Sean said.

  Tisa settled beside him on the bench, the men still a distance away. The sun was high in the sky now. It should have been a boon to her spirits after the cloudy days, but she was too afeared of what Sean may say.

  “Why have ye allowed Tadhg to believe ye’re married to yer husband in truth?”

  Her jaw dropped but no words came out.

  He placed his large hand on her arm. “I am not blind. Nor is my wife. And the fact that Darragh was quite taken with my size when I first met him, even showing an unnatural interest in me, confirms his desire is not for women but for men.”