by Ashley York
“Ye know nothing about it, Lord Darragh.”
She’d taken to using the title for the sole purpose of irritating him ever since her family’s visit to Alba where her uncle lived. They’d been visited by Norman knights, friends of her parents. The deference paid to them as landed warriors was a stark contrast to their own system of nobility.
She continued, “Ye’ve not been here long.”
When she faced him, he gave up the fight. The air in his lungs expelled as he finally gave in to the urge to let his gaze travel along each enticing curve. He took a step toward her, then halted when Brighit’s eyes flashed, in surprise or fear, he couldn’t be certain which. She dragged the gown over her head and then hugged herself, covering her breasts, admittedly the area his gaze had lingered the longest—they were exquisite breasts. Her expression remained defiant even as her teeth began to chatter. Darragh pulled the fur-lined brait from his shoulders to drape it around her and her sweet scent drifted to him, enticing him to linger near.
“Anyone could have come upon ye. Anyone.” He kept a firm tone despite the leanings of his imagination.
“But it was ye.” Irritation seethed from her. She tilted her head to pull her long, dark hair out from beneath the covering. The curve of her elegant neck beckoned him nearer still. The only thing that stopped him from lowering his lips to her soft flesh was the decision that this—her neck—was where his assault of her senses would begin on their wedding night.
“I’ll see ye to yer father now and tell him what ye’ve done.”
“Do not.” Her plea brought her hand up, just short of actually touching him. “I beg ye, Darragh.”
The quiet words hung between them. The first time his name had been uttered by her with no hint of derision or sarcasm since his clan’s arrival a week earlier. He took a breath, ready to reply, but halted. Her eyes were rounded a little too much. Her brows raised that perfect amount. The lass was working her wiles on him, damn if she wasn’t.
He’d almost reassured her that he would stay silent as long as she would promise never to do it again. And he would have been the worst of fools. She would do it again. Brighit would always do as she pleased. Only now, instead of being forthright, she was being sneaky. Instead of verbally sparring, she was trying to charm him. That was something the other lasses did, but hadn’t she shown him a thousand different ways that she was not like other lasses?
He paused before he gave her his reply. “As ye wish. I will not tell Sean.”
Her face immediately relaxed, and she dropped her gaze. He’d swear there was a hint of smile on her lips.
Darragh crossed his arms about his chest. “He is only yer father.”
Her gaze flew back to him and she narrowed her eyes.
“A father sees to a lass only until she is wed.” He smiled. “I am the one ye need to worry about.”
Her brows slashed down. “Ye have no say over me.”
“I will control everything about ye.”
Her eyes clouded in that thoughtful way she had.
So he continued, “I will decide yer punishments.”
“Not yet.” She spoke through gritted teeth, having dropped all attempts at coercion. “And not ever if I can help it.”
“There is no help for it, but I see ye’re still struggling with that fact. Whoever else we might have preferred, it is ye and I who have been betrothed. Even now they discuss when it will be seen to.”
“My father will not force me.”
“Is that the game ye’ve been playing at?” Darragh shook his head, chiding her with his expression. “Sean is beside himself with how best to handle ye. And last fall when he left ye with my clan? It was so ye could get accustomed to our ways and lose yer aversion to marrying, but instead ye snuck off alone to follow him to the Meic Murchadha—”
“I did not go as far as that.”
“Ye should go nowhere alone and unprotected.” Darragh’s anger was getting the best of him. He hesitated, struggling for control, but all his emotions were riding him hard.
“My father loves me. He does not wish to see me married to a brute of a man.”
A brute of a man? Hardly. “But yer behavior has not worked out as ye’d hoped. Ye’ve merely demonstrated ye need someone to look after ye now.”
“I do not!” Her nostrils flared. “And yer arrogance is intolerable.”
“Arrogance? So ye question my ability to protect ye?”
“And ye question my ability to protect myself.” She dropped her arms to press her chest out. Intended as a defiant gesture, it gave him a pleasant eyeful instead.
Her eyes clouded over again. “I’ve sparred with all the lads. I’ve proved myself a worthy opponent.”
“When were ye forced to defend yerself against a stranger? A man ye didn’t know?”
“I’m ready for battle, do not doubt it.”
“That, dear Brighit, is arrogance.” He shook his head, recognizing the uselessness of the argument even as he made it. “Yer father is correct. Ye need to be taken in hand.”
Her gasp gave him great satisfaction. “He would never say such a thing.”
Darragh merely shrugged. “The wedding can happen in a fortnight, or it can take place this very night.”
He was pushing it a bit. His mother had expressed a desire for the priest to be present and he was at least a two-day journey away.
Wetting his lips, he gave her his most charming smile. “I believe it should be this very night that I take ye to my bed.”
“Ugh!” Brighit rolled her eyes. “Ye want this even less than me.”
That was a bit of a surprise. In truth, he was the envy of all the lads, both in his clan and her own. Brighit was a beautiful, feisty woman. He wasn’t sure how to reply.
“So? What is it ye want?” Brighit’s expression revealed nothing. “I promise I’ll not leave—”
“Yer promise means nothing.” Darragh raised a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “A display of how insulted ye are will not change my mind. I know ye better than that. Instead, let us have a truce.”
She remained silent, her lips tightly sealed.
“Ye will not misbehave again—and I will agree to wait to take ye to wife.”
“Until next summer?”
“Oh no. No one will agree to waiting another year. Yer behavior demands ye be taken to wife now.”
“Then how long will ye give me?”
“A fortnight is all.” Admittedly, her enthusiasm for putting off the inevitable stung a bit. “But any disobedience will result in the truce immediately being set aside.”
Her skeptical expression was almost comical. Almost.
“This can no longer be avoided, and they are not inclined to break the betrothal. Yer father is eager to see us wed.”
Her eyes rounded. Brighit’s love for Sean ran deep, and if she’d been given an opportunity to find a man she could love, no doubt that man would have known that same depth of feeling. He tapped down the regret that clawed at him.
“Ye’ll be in good hands. Everyone knows that.” It seemed irrelevant that Sean also found him lacking.
“Hah!”
In a flash he grabbed both of her wrists and drew her flush against him. A scowl on his face, he said, “Yer defiance will be the death of ye.”
She immediately began to struggle against his greater strength. A futile waste of her energy.
“Let me loose, Lord Darragh.”
“And ye’ll not use that insulting term again.”
“I am not yers to command yet.”
He smiled at her winded tone. “I need only say the word.”
She ceased her struggle, and he loosened his hold.
“Did ye never learn in all yer training that the protection of a village against attack is of primary importance? Yer ridiculous attempts at stalling show ye are no true warrior, no matter how many lads ye’ve bested. Our parents may have decided on this betrothal when times were better, but there is trouble brewing now
. The joining of our clans is imperative for everyone’s protection.”
He hadn’t expected her eyes to dampen and the irritated way she brushed the tears aside convinced him they were genuine. An overpowering need to soften his words took hold. “I speak to ye as I would to any of the men under my command and not to upset ye.”
“I am not upset. Yer spittle went in my eye.”
He bit his lip to keep from smiling at the obvious lie. “If ye agree to wed as soon as it can be arranged, we can return and see this done. ’Twould be best for all.”
“No.”
“No?” Darragh was beside himself. “Ye still wish to act the spoiled child with no regard for—”
“I want the fortnight.” She swallowed again. “Please.”
That last word cost her. It was there in her eyes—that and her sincerity. He had a sneaking suspicion she would still fight the inevitable, although he’d swear she felt guilty now for making such a fuss. Was Sean so very protective of her that she’d had no idea of the troubles?
It would certainly be easier to proceed if she could offer some sort of concession, mayhap even apologize for the way she’d been behaving to show she’d had a change of heart. Darragh snorted. That would never happen.
“Well?” she asked. Her face was tight, as if she was ashamed of having shown any emotion at all.
“Convince me of yer sincerity,” Darragh said.
“I am sincere.”
“Then show me ye’ve accepted the inevitable, that ye’re willing to become my wife.”
Her eyes widened in irritation. “I am.”
“That’s the problem with prevarication.”
“Prevarication? When did I ever lie to ye?”
“When ye flashed yer lashes and begged me not to tell yer father.”
“It works for the other lasses, why not me? They get whatever they want. All the lads begging at their feet, telling them how beautiful they are—” She averted her gaze. “—and they’re not so very beautiful.”
A telling statement of how she viewed herself, but he resisted the urge to reassure her that not one of those lasses compared to her in looks or intelligence.
When she finally turned back, her expression had softened. “I do not normally prevaricate.”
He crossed his arms about his chest. “If ye say so.”
“I do say so. Ugh!” She blew an irritated breath. “I canna convince ye when ye won’t believe what I say.”
Brighit’s nose flared in irritation just before she shook her head in a most defeated way. The idea came to him in a flash, and Darragh smiled at his own thought before sharing it.
“A kiss. A kiss will convince me.” He half expected her to slap his face for even suggesting such a thing.
Only she didn’t. Her eyes widened, and she glanced at his lips before wetting her own. She was excited by the idea. Could it be she’d never been kissed before? He’d bet his favorite horse she had not, not with Sean as her father.
“Ye are willing then?” Her look told him she was not only willing but eager. With the slightest movement, he slipped his hands beneath the mantle to graze his open palms up her arms until they rested on her shoulders. Her lips glistened and the vein in her neck throbbed. With a low voice, he asked, “Would ye seal our agreement with a kiss?”
The sharpest tip of her head, barely a nod at all, but Darragh would not quibble. He slid a hand from beneath the heavy material to tunnel it under her thick, silky hair and cup her neck, the skin there still cool from her swim.
She leaned in, meeting him halfway. His mouth slanted across hers, a gentle caress, before he slipped his tongue between her parted lips. She gave as good as she got, deepening the kiss to where he was no longer certain who was doing the kissing. He was glad he hadn’t wagered his horse on her inexperience, though mayhap she was simply an extremely fast learner.
Without warning, she released him and backed out of his hold, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Her heaving chest matched his own.
He reached for her. “Brighit, I—”
She raised a hand, shaking her head, and put more distance between them. It was a long time before she spoke again. “We will wait the fortnight.”
Darragh tipped his head, blowing out a breath to slow his racing heart, and said, “Of course…and ye must promise to obey and get into no more trouble.”
“I do promise.”
Darragh closed his eyes, struggling to quell his throbbing desire. He’d had no expectation of how she would feel in his arms—like she belonged there. Total madness. More likely than not it was his own abstinence that made him so needy.
Brighit walked past him and he took a deep, cleansing breath, adjusting the tightness in his trews before turning toward her. When she mounted, he stiffened, half expecting her to take off at a gallop back through the woods, leaving him to chase after her. That would give him the perfect excuse to lay hands on her, although for what purpose he couldn’t be certain.
Instead, she stood tall in her saddle and said, “Would ye be so kind as to escort me back to my father?”
“At once.”
Retrieving his mount, he led the way back toward her village, her horse close to hand.
Neither of them spoke.
Chapter 3
Clan MacNaughton, Drogheda
* * *
It was a lovely sunny day with a deep blue sky. The kind of day that made a lass want to lie back and watch those wispy clouds as they drifted overhead. At least that was what Brighit would have been doing had she been home, but the fortnight was nearly over. The decision that the betrothed couple would be wed at Darragh’s home had come as a surprise. Something about one particular priest’s blessing and some local unrest.
It was such an obvious attempt to get her accustomed to her new clan before dumping her there. Even wee Lorccàn had rolled his eyes when their mother had mentioned yet again how happy Brighit would be when she married. Of course, they had all abandoned her once they’d arrived, finding everything else much more interesting than helping her become “accustomed.” Over the past few days, she’d seen little of her family except in the great hall of this cold stone castle left from the days of Brian Boru, the High King of Éire.
And now she was to be escorted on an official tour of the túath of Clan MacNaughton, the clan of her husband, her new clan, by none other than her future husband and his parents. She felt sick to her stomach.
“Are ye certain ye prefer to ride?” Darragh’s mother was more than gracious, never failing to show her that supportive little smile as if to say, “Now, now, Brighit, ye know ye can do this fine.”
Tisa was right. Brighit could definitely do this. Move here to live among these strangers, see to her husband’s needs, bear his children and provide a peaceful place for him to return to after battles at some far off place. Oh yes. She could definitely do this. She just didn’t want to. What she wanted most was to be at those battles. To use her training and her weapons. To catch the enemy unawares and then—SPLAT. She’d crush them like a bug.
Only lasses didn’t do such things…or so she’d been told again and again.
“Is ought amiss, dear?” Tisa’s concerned expression brought Brighit back to the present.
“Nothing. Thank ye, Tisa.”
“Mamaídh. Please, call me Mamaídh. I insist.”
Brighit managed to return the woman’s smile. “Mamaídh.”
“And d’ye not prefer a carriage?”
A carriage? “Many thanks for yer kind offer. I prefer to ride.”
Brighit definitely did, but when the horse was brought to her, saddled and ready, Tisa’s eyes widened. “Ye aren’t going to sit astride the beast, are ye?” she asked.
Brighit actually had to grip her hands to stop from yanking up her gown and showing the woman the leggings she wore beneath. Of course, Darragh’s mother would never wear anything so manly as hose or trews. She was ever the feminine beauty at her strong-as-an-ox husband’s side.
“Of course not.” The words were forced out of Brighit through clenched teeth.
“Good.” Tisa turned to the stable lad. “Please see to the saddle.”
Darragh and his father were conversing in low tones, something about a treaty violation. Despite their apparent disinterest in her, she was certain today’s tour of their land had been suggested as a chance for her and Darragh to spend even more time together. Her husband-to-be did not seem so inclined, staying as aloof as ever.
“A thighearna?” A brawny man dressed in mail approached the group.
For the first time, Brighit noticed that all the men traveling with them were dressed that way. As if they were ready for defense. And the sheer number of warriors seemed extreme. She’d thought they were trying to impress her with the number of guards accompanying them across their own land. Now she was having second thoughts. Darragh had mentioned some trouble…
“Is there a problem?” Tadhg’s expression matched the concern in his tone and right alongside him, wearing the exact same look, was her ever-stoic betrothed, Darragh.
“They’ve found another carcass left to rot.”
Tadhg glanced toward them. “Not in front of the ladies.”
Brighit stopped just short of rolling her eyes. He was like every other man, believing a woman’s only purpose was to birth children and be at the beck and call of her husband.
Despite Tadhg giving her his back, she heard his next words clearly. “Has it been seen to?”
“Of course, a thighearna.”
“Very good.”
There was more discussion meant only for the men’s ears, but it was lost on Brighit as Tisa saw her properly mounted, her legs together, hanging on one side of the horse.
Tisa, assisted by the stable boy, mounted the same way. Pulling her riding gloves tightly over her perfectly feminine hands, her eyes downcast, she said. “I hope to show ye our loughs. One is quite deep and very private.”
Brighit’s mind immediately went back to the day Darragh had caught her swimming in her own lough. She felt certain that episode was the reason they’d come to Drogheda. Had he shared the story with his mother?