by Ashley York
One step at a time.
Chapter 7
That relieves my mind, Darragh.” Brighit took in his softened features, finishing her own wine and hoping it might give her that same relaxed demeanor.
“We are the ones who have taken vows. Not them.” He turned to her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ye do remember the ceremony? ’Twas quite long.”
Heat worked its way up her face.
“Certainly I do.” She hoped he hadn’t noticed her exhaustion and bleary-eyed state. “I am sorry for my lack of enthusiasm. I got very little sleep last night.”
Brighit clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to share that detail. If he questioned her, what excuse could she make? There was no way she could tell him about her encounter with that man. She hadn’t even spoken with Niall about it.
Returning home with no one the wiser, Brighit had stopped at the stream that bordered their village to wash her bloody hands and clothes. While she’d tried to get some sleep, the stickiness on her hands didn’t seem to go away no matter how much she wiped them. No sign of the blood remained, but she could still feel the sensation of the man’s blood dripping down her wrist and arm. Even now.
She’d seen Niall this morn, in view of all, but he’d merely taken her into a close hug and whispered, “Well, ye’ve had a greater adventure than I’d planned. Glad I am that ye’re safe. All the lads made it home without injury as well and the attackers were all sent off in one piece.”
Not all…
She’d have dropped to the ground but for the hold her uncle had on her. How could she tell him of her ordeal? He would only feel guilty. Better for him to believe there had been no loss of life.
Truth be told, there was no way she could tell anyone about it. Darragh, in particular, could never know. What was she to say to him, after all?
Well, I murdered a man last night, and unfortunately, I found it more upsetting than I thought I would.
Using her empty goblet as a shield, she raised it to her mouth and glanced down at their joined hands. His covered hers completely, its strength undeniable.
A pitcher passed in front of her face, making her jump. Darragh nodded to her empty vessel. She lowered her cup for him. Her idiotic attempt to hide from his piercing gaze had fallen far short. They exchanged glances and his kind smile lingered.
He winked at her and said, “Ye didn’t say how ye like the wine.”
She exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm her racing heart. “’Tis quite good.”
Taking too big a swallow in her feigned enthusiasm, she nearly choked. His concern was obvious, and he took the cup, patting her lightly on her back.
“Bones in the wine again? I will speak to the man.”
Brighit’s confusion quickly changed into delight at the joke and she laughed aloud, relief washing over her. She took back her drink, sipping more slowly, and glanced at the guests gathered in front of them. Their observers were finally turning away again. “I wouldn’t expect humor from ye.”
“And why would that be?” Darragh asked.
Tracing the rim of the goblet with her finger, Brighit struggled to respond. Certainly he must know how he appeared to everyone. His expectant expression didn’t lessen. She had to say something.
“Ye seem much more…reserved.”
“Reserved? As in stoic?”
She averted her gaze, turning away slightly. With the lightest touch to her chin, he turned her face to him.
“I have heard it said that is what ye think of me.” His tone said she’d been caught in a lie.
“Who would tell ye such a thing?” She was mortified. How could anyone betray her confidence?
Darragh touched her lips with the pad of his finger, a touch that sent a shiver deep into her gut. “From yer own lips.”
He kept his eyes on her lips, his voice low and pleasant to her ears.
“I must beg yer forgiveness then, since ’tis clearly an untruth.”
When he lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, she was surprised at their sudden darkness. A heated expression.
“Ye are forgiven,” he answered in the same low tone.
She had difficulty swallowing. She had difficulty breathing. She had difficulty. Snatching the goblet back to her lips, she choked down the remaining liquid.
“Is it the heat that makes ye so parched?” He shifted closer. “For me as well.”
No one watched this time. The guests were too deep in their own conversations, having been drinking for hours now. It was a celebration after all. His hand dropped to her thigh, the material so thin it seemed more like skin-too-skin contact, nearly burning her.
“I look forward to our joining, Brighit. We may leave at yer pleasure.”
She glanced at him, taking a shaky breath, but said nothing. His hand gripped her thigh, a gentle pressure.
“We can sneak away even now. Unnoticed.”
She realized that was true enough. No one would notice them sneaking down the hall to his left. Climbing the stairs to his bedchamber.
“We can see this done now, Brighit.”
“But—but we’ve not eaten yet.”
He quirked a brow and grinned. “I will start with my dessert.”
“Ye have sweets in yer chamber? How indulgent. This castle reminds me of the great kings before us and how pampered they must have been.”
Darragh looked out across the expanse of the great hall, the crumbling stone and drafty arrow slits along each wall. An expression she could not read passed over his face. Moving close enough that his expanding chest nudged her elbow, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Ye will be my sweet, wife.”
Her body shifted toward him, unbidden, before she could check the movement, but he merely smiled, staying near to her. A glance around confirmed they were no longer the focus of anyone’s attention.
“If we could do it unobserved.” She matched her tone to his.
He beamed.
Darragh leaned away and she shivered as cold air filled in the gap where he’d been. His gaze went to the three men standing off to the side of the hall. She recognized only his friend Terrence. They all appeared quite drunk, but at the lift of Darragh’s chin, they moved with purpose, filling in the space in front of them, effectively blocking the new couple from the rest of the hall. They hunkered down behind the men and Darragh took her hand in a tight grip to lead her to the stairs. She giggled at their escape and he held a finger to his lips. That made her giggle even harder.
His wide-eyed, exasperated look of warning made it even worst. Before she could break into a full guffaw, he scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all and bounded up the steps, two at a time. They were both laughing by the time he opened the door and he set her on her feet. She gawked, suddenly quiet, struck by the overwhelming manliness of the room. Dark wood lined two walls. A huge four-post bed set upon a raised dais in the middle of the room. Heavy brown linens hung at every corner, tied back to reveal a matching coverlet on the bed, embroidered with a slightly lighter brown and blue field flowers.
Darragh closed the door behind them. Glad for the amount of wine she’d been able to consume, Brighit gulped at the suddenly intimate scene, keeping her back to him. He dragged her hair aside and pressed his lips to the nape of her now-exposed neck, sending shivers down her back. She closed her eyes when he kissed her sensitive skin again, his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her against his solid length. He was quite a bit taller than her, but somehow she fit against him perfectly.
With his hot hand, he stroked over her belly and she tensed, so afraid she would wince in pain at the tender area there. But he quickly moved up to cup her breast at the same time that his teeth grazed her shoulder. All thought of possible pain faded. Despite the material covering her, his mouth was hot on her skin.
“Ye smell of roses.” He rubbed his nose at her nape, his voice husky.
“They bathed me with rose petals, then rubbed my skin in an oil of the same.” Her respo
nse sounded like it came from outside her body.
“Mmm. They prepared ye for me.”
So that was the reason for the endless ablutions? She had been so afraid they would notice the bruises from her assault, but no one had said anything. The bruises on her face were hidden beneath the powder she’d applied that morning.
Darragh nipped her ear and she was again focused on his touch.
“I wish to unwrap my rose-drenched bride.” His breath against her skin sent another shiver much lower. Somewhere in her mind, she knew he was unlacing the ties of her wedding gown, sliding it down her arms, leaving her top bare since she wore nothing beneath it. Now, he stood before her and she was deliciously attuned to the sensations rushing through her. His mouth and hands touching her. His palm, surprisingly smooth as he gripped her naked breast, bringing the hardened nipple into his moist mouth. That was when she opened her eyes to see him there, suckling her, his hands dragging her gown along as they slipped up her bare legs.
Darragh pulled back and shoved the last of the material over her hips to a puddle at her feet. She watched him, mesmerized when he smiled in pleasure, his gaze roaming over her.
He took a deep breath before he finally spoke. “Ye are exquisite, wife.”
Brighit held her breath while he continued his perusal, his eyes finally stopping on her face. She thought he might say something, but his gaze was dark when he pulled her against him, his hand sliding down her belly to slip between her thighs, touching her where she’d never been touched. Without thinking, she tightened her legs.
“Let me touch ye.” He spoke against her cheek, a soft, persuasive tone, and her body obeyed.
His sigh sounded needy. His fingers glided easily between her folds—she didn’t understand why, but his moan told her it pleased him. Her eyes closed at the pleasant sensation of him touching her.
He groaned, his fingers working magic on her fear. All she wanted was more from him and her hips canted even as she tried to still her body’s response to him.
“Mmm.” His breathing was heavy in her ear. “Let us see to this bedding.”
The word sparked an alarm that was quickly forgotten when he pressed into her, taking her mouth at the same time. This was the kiss she remembered. The kiss she’d thought about so often. The kiss that told her that—at least in this—she would be pleased with him as her husband.
Darragh slid his hands up her sides, urging her back toward the bed, lifting her at the step to deposit her into the middle of its great expanse. It was a feather bed, softer than anything she’d ever lain upon, but then he was there again, taking over her senses with his mouth and his hands. When his hips slipped between her legs, she realized he was naked as well. He hovered above her, kissing her. Long, languorous kisses that swept away her nervousness, and when the tip of his tarse came close to her, she was surprised by how much she wanted him. She wanted this. She wanted to be joined to this man.
Cupping her face, he broke the kiss to gaze down at her. His shaft dipped into her. His eyes closing slightly before focusing on her again. She knew there would be pain, but his look of longing set that fear from her. He pressed into her with one swift movement. A sharp pain quickly forgotten when she heard his guttural sound of pleasure.
Darragh rocked his hips into her, entering her slowly, sending sweet sensations through her body. A nip at her shoulder, followed by a sigh of pleasure at her ear, elicited her own groan. This was not at all what she had expected. This total abandon to the pleasurable experience, the rightness of having him here. Overwhelmed by emotion, tears stung her eyes.
He gathered her close and settled on top of her, thrusting more firmly and setting off an intense need inside her. She reached for it, lifting her hips to meet each stroke until it exploded inside her. Overwhelmed with wave upon wave of deep fulfillment, she could only groan while he continued filling her, prolonging her pleasure. His own sounds of satisfaction reached her when he stilled, pressing deep inside her. He covered her. His entire body blocked out everything else. The weight of him seemed to get heavier and heavier. She turned away from his chest but couldn’t catch a breath. The soreness of her belly was manageable, but the sudden sense of suffocation came back with a force strong enough to jolt her out of her pleasure.
All she knew was that she had no breath in her lungs. Full-blown panic swept over her and her breath came in short gasps, fanning her fear of suffocation rather than offering relief. With the flat of her palms she shoved at his shoulders with all her strength. He was killing her.
Darragh’s confused expression was a blur, his features unrecognizable to her in that moment. She continued to buck against the intruder, frustrating whimpers filling the air.
“No. No!” Her quiet pleas showed her weakness and she despised them. She reached for her dagger, only then realizing she was naked and powerless. She had no weapon.
“What is wr—” Darragh said. He was rising off her and she didn’t hesitate to knee him in the groin. When he dropped on her again and grabbed himself, moaning in pain, she pushed as hard as she could and got out from under him. Feeling like a trapped animal, Brighit scrambled off the bed and backed away toward the far wall. The air safely filling her lungs slowly brought her out of her panic enough for to see her husband writhing in pain on the bed where her virgin’s blood was visible beneath him.
The reality of what she’d done hit her as hard as any fist. Darragh could kill her for such behavior. It was his right as her husband. She dove for her gown, holding it against her like a shield, and made for the door, desperate to escape his wrath. Just as her hand touched the cold metal of the latch, Darragh bellowed behind her.
“Ye will not leave this room!”
Chapter 8
By his third glass of mead, the throbbing in Darragh’s groin was finally subsiding. Wiping at the powdered hand mark he’d left on the gold vessel, he looked at his bride, huddled in the heavy wool blanket he’d procured for her when she had begun shivering. He’d refused to allow her to don her gown again. She had explanations to give before he would allow her to dress…if he allowed her to dress. He’d been too outraged to say anything to her as of yet.
Brighit had actually kneed him. He couldn’t say which had surprised him more, the satisfaction of breaking through her maidenhead and then her moan of pleasure or the sudden she-cat she’d turned into trying to get away from him. Was the pain that bad? But it couldn’t have been the pain. He would have known it. Despite his own pleasure, he had remained acutely aware of everything about her. Her quiet gasp when he broke through her barrier. The soft exhale as he moved in a steady rhythm. And the slightest moan when he’d begun to move more urgently. He’d never been so enraptured with a woman. His wife. And then she’d attacked him.
“So why exactly did ye feel it necessary to try and unman me? D'ye not wish to have any children?”
“Oh!” Brighit’s wavering cry finally roused his pity for her. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was mortified at her behavior.
“So ye would like children?”
Brighit’s eyes rounded and flooded anew. “Aye.”
The banging on the door startled them both.
“Hey! They’re coming.” a laughing voice whispered.
“Best get the sheets ready,” another voice snickered.
Loud laughter followed.
Damn them. Did they need to get drunk when he had assigned them such an important job? He did not want to have his wife embarrassed at their joining but then again he hadn’t expected her to assault him.
He didn’t miss her gasp at those first words or her covering her mouth or that expression of horror on her beautiful face. A second look revealed where the white powder had been removed. The skin appeared to be discolored beneath, no doubt an illusion from the flickering candlelight.
“Let me help ye with the gown.”
He slipped it over her head and she offered her back so that he could see to the ties, which he did. He took his time thoug
h, tugging up along her spine, thoroughly appreciating the smoothness of the skin presented him. The shadow beneath the material lent an unexpected darkness to her fair skin.
“I didn’t mean to hurt ye.” She said it in a quiet voice, her face lowered. “I really did not.”
Darragh quickly donned his trews and tunic before responding.
“Was it so repulsive to ye? Our love making?” Darragh tried for a light tone, but he wasn’t sure it was successful. When she didn’t respond, he knew her answer must be yes. Despite her initial reaction, it had been that repulsive to her. Which meant they were in a very unfortunate position.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“They’re here.” His friend called out over the muffled voices of the approaching intruders.
The door was flung open so hard, it slammed against the wall. Thomasina stood there with her hand on her hip and a scowl on her face. If looks could kill, Brighit need never worry about him touching her again.
“Thomasina.” Darragh used his chiding tone. “I would expect better from ye.”
Sean’s head bobbed above the others as he pushed his way past the people crowding around the door. Darragh only hoped it was an attempt to curtail his wife.
“Ye know I wanted a proper bedding ceremony for my daughter,” she said.
“My sweet, Tommy.” Sean wrapped an arm around his petite wife and tucked her close to his side. “Forgiveness, please, Darragh. We didn’t mean to interrupt ye.”
The look of outrage Thomasina turned on her husband was almost comical, but he stared her down.
“Did we, Thomasina?”
She hesitated before turning to Darragh. “Of. Course. Not,” she ground out the words between tight lips.
Sean kissed his wife’s cheek, but the stiffness of her expression didn’t bode well for him.