The Seventh Son

by Ashley York

  Tisa’s face reddened, tears threatened and she turned away. “I canna speak to ye of this.”

  With a gentle grasp of her chin, Sean turned her to face him. “‘Tis not yer blame. He’s been like that since before ye. I’m just saying ye should let Tadhg ken.”

  “Why?” The damn tears spilled down her cheeks. “What can he do? It matters not at all. Darragh’s my husband.”

  “He is not!” Sean showed his anger which he was no longer so quick to do revealing his deep concern for her. “A wife is to cleave unto her husband. Ye’ve done no such thing.”

  Turning away, she brushed her cheeks with an angry swipe of her hand. “And I am glad!”

  The ongoing silence finally drew her eyes back to Sean. He had a peculiar expression as he watched her. As if seeing her for the first time.

  “Ye’re still in love with Tadhg.”

  “I will always be in love with Tadhg. He is the husband of my heart that I could never forsake. I am glad to not have to be touched by another when ‘tis Tadhg alone that I want.”

  “Sweet Tisa.” Sean pulled her into his arms and she allowed him to comfort her. She cried until no more tears would come. He brushed her hair back, stroking her head with long, comforting motions.

  “Ah, Sean, whatever did I do to deserve a life without my Tadhg?”

  “I dunna ken.”

  The shouting from the men tore them apart and they both stood to see what was going on. Sean ran toward the sound but Tisa did not. She walked. She couldn’t understand what they were shouting. Not until she came closer.

  “He’s no breath left in him!”

  Tisa’s chest constricted with pain at the same time her brain was convincing herself they were speaking of Gerrit.

  “Quite a knot on his head.”

  “A dent, I’d call it.”

  “Mayhap just the wind knocked out of him.”

  The crowd of men blocked her from seeing what they referred to. She glanced at the tall, leathered man who stood to the side now. Gerrit wiped at the blood coming from his nose and mouth, his labored breathing loud in the sudden silence. Some of the men had dropped down to their knees in the mud. Sean was there. He kneeled beside the length of a man, only his legs visible. One spectator moved aside and she could make out Tadhg. Blood was matted along the side of his head to puddle beneath him, turning the mud a strange brown. Sean glanced up at her. She read the concern on his face.

  “Tisa, go get yer herbs.”

  The men turned to her. Most of their faces smeared dark with mud from fighting. Their eyes looked unnaturally white and wide. She couldn’t get her feet to move or her body to turn away.

  “Tisa!” Sean shouted her name. When she looked at him, she saw his mouth move and then Darragh was pulling on her arm, drawing her away.

  “Tisa! Ye need to get yer herbs.” Darragh’s voice sounded muffled. “Hear me! Yer herbs, Tisa. Tadhg is hurt. He needs yer help.”

  Her eyes began to close, the world darkening around her. Strong arms caught her as she dropped to the ground. But she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her. She could only hear the voices.

  “I’ll carry my own wife.”

  “Dunna be an arse!”

  Gerrit’s voice was very close. Too close. Tisa struggled to open her eyes. The man was devil spawn.

  She moved above the ground. When her eyes finally opened, she was in Darragh’s home and being laid across his bed.

  “Here are her herbs.” Darragh’s voice came from a great distance although he stood beside her.

  She needed to protect him from Gerrit. She struggled to sit up. The memory of Tadhg covered with blood came to her and she bolted up with a gasp.

  “Lay back down, damn it. Ye’ve had a fright,” Gerrit scowled at her.

  Darragh shuffled through the dried herbs in her basket. His large hands pushing some of the more delicate flowers onto the floor. He gave a heavy sigh. “We’ll get these to him. Mayhap someone will ken which one to give him.”

  “Nae,” Tisa sat up and grabbed at her stomach that suddenly felt queasy. “I’ll help him. I’m sorry. I will come with—”

  “Tisa,” Darragh’s demanding tone indicated his patience with her was at an end, “are ye with child?”

  Gerrit could not have whipped his head to look at her any faster than he did. His eyes were huge.

  Her concern for Tadhg was overpowering but the opportunity to take this man down could not be missed. Satisfaction purred inside Tisa’s chest at this perfect opportunity to slam Gerrit’s mouth shut for good. This whoreson who dared to hurt her Tadhg.

  Tisa stood on shaky legs but placed a hand affectionately to her husband’s chest. She smiled up at him, “I may be, Darragh. Would that not be wonderful?”

  Darragh’s breath stilled beneath her hand. He studied her. With the slightest lowering of his brows, she knew he understood. He smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners and pulled her into a tight embrace.

  “It would, indeed.”

  She reached up to receive the kiss he offered. He jerked away, touching his lip. “A bit painful still.” He smiled again. “Ye are a wonderful wife.”

  Darragh caressed the side of her face, a sincere expression of gratitude on his face. “Let us see to Tadhg. Get a heavier covering, ‘tis getting colder out.”

  Darragh headed to the door without so much as a glance at Gerrit. The doubt she read on Gerrit’s face as he followed Darragh out the door gave her extreme satisfaction. She rummaged through a pile of Caireann’s clothing alongside the fire and grabbed the heavy, woven shawl before heading back out.

  The crowd of men was smaller and that gave Tisa hope that Tadhg’s injuries were not as serious as they first appeared. Sean still sat beside Tadhg, supporting his head as he offered him water.

  “How fares he?” Tisa asked.

  Tadhg’s eyes opened and he smiled weakly at her. “Methinks I’ll live. Sorry for the scare. Ye’re white as a ghost.”

  Gerrit shuffled beside her then huffed off without saying a word. She bit her lips to keep the smile from her face. That was the perfect thing for Tadhg to say.

  “I’ll get him to his bed. Rest is all he needs,” Sean said.

  “I have something to help him rest.” Tisa pulled out a few twigs, the leaves still intact. “I can make a tea for him.”

  Sean kept his eyes on Darragh and Gerrit walking toward the longhouse before responding. “Is it a good thing for him to sleep so deeply with those two nearby?”

  Tadhg began to stand and Sean caught him when he stumbled. Wrapping Tadhg’s arm around his shoulders, Sean began to lead him back down the road. “Gerrit could never have laid Tadhg low without the aid of something else.”

  “The man cheated?” Tisa asked, her voice betraying her astonishment.

  “With a dent in his scull? No fist, no matter how hard, could leave a mark like that.”

  Tisa saw only the matted hair and that sight made her want to rip the man’s heart out. She turned to do just that but Tadhg stopped her.

  “Dunna!” Tadhg’s voice was so weak. “I will see to this.”

  She struggled against the need to avenge her Tadhg but calmed herself.

  “Of course.” She had no right to confront Gerrit. Tadhg was not her husband. He was no one to her. The heaviness in her chest made it hard to take a breath. She stopped. The two continued a few more feet before Sean turned back to look at her.

  “Ye need to come, Tisa. There are things that need to be said.”

  “There are not, Sean.” She leveled her gaze at him. There was no reason for her to go with them except to torture herself with things that could never be. “See to him. Find me if the pain becomes too much for him.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ~

  TISA TURNED AWAY FROM Tadhg and Sean, forcing her feet to carry her back toward the longhouse. With every step, her heart pained her, the breath trapped in her chest. Then she stopped. She could not go in and pretend. Her strength was go
ne. Her will depleted. To hear Gerrit speak of what a great warrior he was for felling Tadhg would push her over the edge. If Sean said the man cheated, she believed him.

  The thought of Tadhg possibly dying brought everything crashing in on her. He could die and she would never be told. No one would think to inform her. And if she did find out he’d died? She could not continue on as she had. Even if she could never have him in truth, she needed to know he still lived. Somewhere. That he breathed the same air. That he saw the same stars overhead. That he felt the same sun on his face.

  Turning to the forest, she thought about what she would do when all the men left to fight. Many would die, as they’d said. Maybe even Darragh. And if her husband died, what would become of her? Would she be exiled? Sent off to go live with the outcasts? Would his father take her and treat her as the other women? Passing her around if she pleased him enough?

  She scanned the darkness of the trees for any sign of the children. Would they have moved out of the cave on their own? Had they been attacked? Glancing around, she saw no one. Mayhap just to check the cave again. With Malcolm away, no one was looking out for them.

  Tisa ran to her house and changed into her disguise. Wrapping herself again in Caireann’s shawl, she used the fur as her final covering. At the last minute, she grabbed the little doll. She prayed they had returned and that they were all safe.

  The moon was rising and the chill in the air spoke of spring. With the days longer, she would have enough time to go and come back before she was missed. The men would be celebrating for hours. It took very little time for her to find the cave and she slipped through the passage to the back opening. There had been a fire but she saw no sure sign that it had been her outcasts and Aoife.

  She sifted through the embers, heaping dry needles and leaves on top until the flame caught. The smoke rose to the opening in the ceiling. The children loved to point out their escape passage. She never had the heart to ask them how they would get up to it.

  “In case we’re attacked,” Will had said, his eyes wide.

  Children could find adventure in the scariest ordeal. Were they well? Or had some evil befallen them?

  The last bit of wood quickly caught and the smokiness was clearing. She prayed that wherever they were this night, they were safe.

  “Ultan!”

  Tisa jumped up and turned around. Tadhg stood beside the passage.

  “Tadhg. What are ye—”

  “I was hoping I would find ye here.”

  Tisa clamped her mouth shut, glad he had interrupted what she was about to say. Ultan demanding to know why he wasn’t abed would definitely have roused his suspicions. He looked terrible.

  “Please, sit.” Tadhg spoke quickly then dropped to his knees close beside her. He unhooked his brat, letting it drop behind him. He stretched it out and sat on it.

  “Please?” He looked up at her with those wide, brown eyes, his hands stretched toward the material placed alongside the fire.

  His hair had been cleaned and brushed back, revealing a large bruise on the side of his face. She realized she could make out his features quite well this close to the fire. She could not allow him to do the same.

  “Nae, I should—”

  Tadhg took her hand. His hand was unnaturally warm. “Please. Sit with me.”

  His eyes shimmered in the light. He could have a fever and should be resting. What was wrong with Sean to let him out after such a bad injury? The steady tug of Tadhg’s hand finally broke her resistance and she sat beside him. She turned away from the fire, pulling the fur forward to hide in the shadow. That made it so she had to look directly at Tadhg and every nuance of his expression showed in the glow of the firelight.

  Tadhg smiled, releasing her hand but only moving a few inches away as she sat. “I’ve missed our talks.”

  “We barely ken each other.”

  He looked at her, his eyes dropping to her lips. She fought against the wild beating of her own heart. Surely he couldn’t see her face let alone make out where her lips were.

  “Mayhap at some distant time? Surely we were friends. Close friends.”

  His sad smile tugged at her heart. He also seemed pale. “Are ye not well?”

  Tisa prayed he didn’t become suspicious with the question.

  He glanced toward the fire before facing her again. “I have been better.”

  “Mayhap ye need...to go...home?” She chose her words carefully.

  “Nae. I need to speak to ye.” His smile widened. “I’ve learned something—I—I want to share with ye.”

  Tisa’s gut tightened. She could not listen to him talk of her father again. More turmoil she did not need. When she started to stand, he grabbed her hand. Tight.

  “I need ye to hear me.”

  He did not stand. Nor did he release her hand. Something in his expression heightened her already sharpened senses. The fire shot off sparks beside them. She needed to get out of this cave.

  She only partly feigned her irritated tone. “Hurry then. I canna stay long.”

  “Nae?” Tadhg’s fingers intertwined with her own and he pulled her hand toward his face. His eyes remained on hers even when his lips touched the back of her hand. “Are ye sure ye canna stay with me?”

  She stared, mesmerized, struggling with how to make his kiss make sense. She could not and yet she sat, far too close, beside him. He released her hand only to reach toward the brooch holding her fur together at her neck. It was fine. It didn’t mean anything. Not the kiss. Not his hands on her.

  “‘Tis warm enough in here now.”

  She couldn’t move away.

  He undid the fastening. Slipping his strong, warm hands beneath the heavy fur, he rested his hands on her shoulder before running them down, along her arms. The garment sliding down with the movement. “I want ye comfortable.”

  Her eyes stayed fixed on his mouth. The touch of his lips on her hand still tingled along her skin. The feel of his hands stroking her arms making it hard to catch her breath. He shifted closer and made to push a strand of hair from her face. He tucked it behind her ear but didn’t withdraw his hand right away. Instead, he stroked her hair back to reach behind and pull out her long braid tucked inside her leine.

  “I have not been able to speak of my feelings to another,” he said. His eyes remained on hers and she couldn’t turn away. The gentle tug of his hand unraveling the braid sent shivers over her heated skin.

  He leaned closer still and she closed her eyes.

  “I am deeply in love.” His voice was quiet beside her ear. “A woman I’ve loved since she was a girl.”

  The gentle kiss came at the same time his fingers worked their way beneath her hair, touching the sensitive skin at her neck. Her hair fell around her shoulders.

  “She had lovely hair that I longed to feel between my fingers.”

  Sensations washed over her, her defenses down, she leaned toward him, wanting to feel more of him. He rubbed his thumbs in tiny circles against her scalp. When his lips touched hers, she accepted his kiss. She longed for his kiss.

  Tadhg increased the pressure against her mouth, leaning her head back, and ran his tongue along her lips, tasting her. She opened her mouth to him and welcomed the invasion of his tongue. The feel of him was just as she’d imagined. He moved closer, deepening the kiss, his hand supporting her head. She ardently kissed him back, enraptured by his touch, his scent, his urgency.

  He pulled back, “I have longed to touch all of her.”

  He slipped his hands down her length, kneading her body as he went. Reaching for her feet, he removed one shoe and then the other. His hand slid along the sensitive arch of her naked foot then up along her calf, raising goose bumps along her skin, before returning to slide his hands down her back. Grasping as he went, he set her on fire wherever he touched. Shifting when he pulled the leine out from under her, it seemed right for him to grasp her bottom in his hands. The heat from his skin singeing through the thin material of her trews.

/>   And his lips were on hers again. She gasped at the pleasurable sensations and smiled against his lips before kissing him again. A wonderful place to be with Tadhg’s hands spreading across her body. His lips on hers.

  He dragged the leine up, his palms sliding along her bare skin beneath, pressing into her, drawing her closer. The wetness was there. The longing to be his. She didn’t want to speak. She wanted to feel. With little encouragement, her arms rose over her head, he removed the leine, and her chest was bared to him. Overwhelmed by sudden shyness, she leaned her face in closer to bury her head against his shoulder. His heavy breathing fanned her face while his fingers spread around one plump breast. He fondled her with a gentle touch, pulling and stretching the sensitive skin of her nipple, heightening her awareness. Smattering kisses along her cheek, he stopped at the corner of her mouth. “I want to make love to her.”

  She turned into him. His tongue delving into her mouth, his sound of deep longing blew like a breeze against the embers in her core, igniting her into a fire. Heat spread across her bosom with his unhurried stroking. Wrapping his arms about her hips, he drew her to sitting on his lap, straddling him. His stiffness pushing against her softness. Overwhelming need coursed through her. The need to feel his mouth on her breast, suckling her. She arched into him, stroking her sensitive mounds against his firm chest. He cupped each breast with his large, hot hands. His breathing ragged, he eagerly dropped his mouth to suckle a hardened nipple. His sweet tongue stroking her, increasing her desire.

  His knuckles brushed against her sensitive skin as he loosened the ties of her trews. His tongue worked around her nipple. Stroking. Suckling. Need shot straight down to her most intimate place.

  “Aye I need my love, more than my next breath.” His breath hot against her exposed skin dampened from his kisses.

  The loose material fell away. His large hand on her bare hips, he worked the material down, wiggling it under her bottom.

  “Will ye give me what has always been mine?”