by Ashley York
But he did remember the late-night revelers.
Niall.
“A group of men came late into the hall the night before the wedding. Niall may have been among them.” Darragh spoke more to himself.
His jaw dropped right before he slammed it tight. “And that morning the lads were less attentive than usual and seemed tired. What was it Seigine had said? They were attacked?”
“Niall wouldn’t attack the men. Even in Alba, the raids are not intended to do harm to the other clan but to steal cattle. The stories I’ve heard always spoke of avoiding engagement. And he certainly wouldn’t dare to do so here because of our laws against it.” Terrence turned a knowing eye on Darragh. “And he knows who the law is here.”
Nodding in understanding, Darragh shared a possible conclusion. “But Seigine could have exaggerated. If his people were the aggressors and Niall got the upper hand, mayhap wounded pride made him tell the story the way he did.”
“That still doesn’t explain how the lass was harmed,” Duncan said, his arms wrapped about his barrel chest. “And she’s my only concern.”
“Ah, Brighit would want to be a part of any raiding Niall had planned. I’m certain of it.” He tried to ignore the raw pain at the realization she may have defied him, and after reassuring him she would not.
“The man would be daft to take her out the night before her wedding,” Terrence said.
“His niece was hurt and he didn’t even tell ye? Who is this man?” Duncan’s fierce scowl revealed his inner rage.
“I’ve never considered him the sanest man alive.” Darragh frowned. “But bruises on her face? Bruises on…her.” He remembered the shadows beneath her gown, he’d assumed it was the lighting, but what if she’d been more thoroughly beaten? “Oh damn.”
“What are ye about?” Terrence came closer to Darragh.
“The way she attacked me on our wedding night? What if it wasn’t just her face that was hurt? What if I’d caused her more pain without knowing it?”
“She’d kick ye in the balls without hesitating.” Duncan spoke matter-of-factly.
“Something went wrong with the raid. I do not know what, but despite what Seigine claims, it must have somehow contributed to Cathair’s death.” Darragh scrubbed his face. “If Brighit doesn’t care to share with me, no amount of insistence will loosen her tongue. It may push her away.”
And just when they were coming to terms.
“I’ll approach Niall.” Duncan’s expression had taken on the look of a man with a duty to perform. “I’ll get the details from him.”
The two stood watching Darragh, the tension pouring out of them while they awaited his orders. He nodded his consent.
“Ye cannot say a word to Brighit.” Darragh confronted each one of them with his fiercest scowl and they nodded, their expressions distraught.
An intense, possessive anger sparked in his gut. No one was going to get away with hurting her. No one.
“Forgive me, Darragh.” Terrence’s expression spoke of the guilt he felt for believing Darragh would ever hurt his wife, but he couldn’t forgive him. Not yet.
“Do yer duty, Terrence. We’ll speak later.”
Terrence walked away to catch up with the others, but Duncan remained.
“Ye know what ye need to do, lad. She needs yer love and acceptance. Gain her trust. Then mayhap she’ll share with ye what happened.”
When they entered the great hall, Darragh avoided looking at her directly but kept her in his sight. He didn’t want her to notice him studying her too intently. He set his troubling thoughts aside, trying to focus instead on the numerous foodstuffs being set upon the trestle table.
“Ye’re busy I see.” His words were for his mother, who was watching over the servants. He kissed her on the cheek.
“Welcome back, son.” The source of her obvious irritation was quickly revealed when Darragh saw Brighit standing with his father.
Her proud demeanor, even dressed in trews and a man’s mantle, took his breath away. She was beautiful. Her shoulders back, her chin high, her long hair hanging down her back.
“And aren’t ye smitten with yer little she-warrior.”
“Hush.” Darragh turned an angry face at his mother, only to realize she was teasing him. “Do not call her that.”
“Never. I would have thought ye’d prefer a milder woman, who ye wouldn’t have a constant battle of wills with.” She searched his face. “Clearly I was wrong.”
Tipping her head, Tisa returned to the kitchen to check on the rest of the meal.
Darragh crossed his arms about his chest, his eyes intent on Brighit now that she no longer returned his gaze. It was as if she’d entranced him with that very first kiss. Could he have ever thought, even in passing, that a calmer woman would be more pleasing? More the fool was he.
“Father.” Darragh smiled at his father, bracing himself to glance at Brighit, praying his feelings were well hidden. He needed that stoic façade now more than ever. “Brighit.”
He kissed his wife’s cheek, his hand lingering on her arm. She seemed to sag against him as if in relief. He lowered his voice. “How fare ye?”
Her eyes downcast, she merely shook her head that she was not well.
Darragh turned to his father, his brows lifted in supplication. “Father, I believe Brighit and I have some unpacking to do. If ye’ll excuse us?”
When his eyes finally fell on the third figure who’d approached the trestle table, the realization that it was Seigine set his anger ablaze. Though he didn’t understand the depth of the man’s involvement, Darragh didn’t trust him. He knew, at the very least, that the man had lied to him.
“Seigine.” Darragh forced the acknowledgement out between tight lips.
“Of course,” Tadhg said.
Seigine paused, his eyes looking at Brighit far too intimately before he noticed Darragh’s scowl. “Of course. We will speak later. Brighit?”
She mumbled something without meeting the man’s eyes and turned, but Darragh quickly wrapped his arm around her so that they left together as if nothing were untoward. Brighit trembled beneath his arm.
“Did the man say something to upset ye?”
She simply shook her head, but when she finally met his eyes, his concern only increased. As soon as they reached the privacy of his room, he pulled her into his arms. She was stiff in his arms.
“Tell me what upsets ye.”
She tugged away and sat on the edge of their bed, her eyes cast downward.
“Brighit. Look at me.” He spoke with a coaxing tone, lifting her chin with a gentle touch. When she obeyed, her light skin was without blemish. His relief was so great, he slid the side of his finger along its softness. “What is amiss? Exhaustion again?”
She simply nodded. He carried the sack of their belongings to the bed. “Mayhap ye have the strength to help me sort through our things?”
Brighit nodded, standing beside him as it was all dumped on the bed. Folding this and shaking out that, she seemed to be far off in her thoughts. Darragh reached for the powder.
“D'ye wish to still keep this?” He held the jar up.
Brighit’s eyes widened with concern and she quickly searched his expression, appearing quite afraid. His heart lurched. He didn’t want to see fear on her lovely face.
“It matters little to me except that ye have no longer been wearing it, which I greatly appreciate.”
He paused, but her eyes kept their roundness as if she feared what he might say.
“Ye can keep it in here if ye prefer.” He put it back in the sack, keeping his eyes downcast. “I did not think ye needed it anymore.”
“Darragh.”
His breath shuttered and he closed his eyes, sending up a prayer that she would open her heart to him and share what had happened.
He slowly lifted his gaze to her, struggling to maintain that stoic demeanor. “What is amiss?”
Brighit nibbled at her thumb, her eyes darting away. “I do not
need the powder. Ye are right. If ye did not like it, I should not wear it.”
His nostrils flared, but he held back his disappointment at her lack of trust. Locking the uncomfortable feelings away, he simply nodded.
And yet she did not continue unpacking as if nothing had happened. Rather, she sat on the side of the bed, her eyes unfocused. He swallowed, trying to appear disinterested as he fiddled with this and that, waiting to see if she would speak freely at last.
“The powder came from far away, where a woman’s beauty is judged by how pale she appears. It covers everything. They use powder to make themselves more beautiful.” Brighit seemed to be talking to herself, so he didn’t respond. “They treat the women as if they will break apart if touched too harshly.” A sob brought him closer to her. “Their women would never dare to confront a man, or…try to defend herself against one bent on hurting her.”
Darragh’s heart broke for the pain in her scrunched-up face when she started to cry. He took her in his arms ever so gently, lifting her from the bed.
“Shhh. I have ye now. Ye’re safe with me.”
She pressed her face into his chest, rubbing it back and forth. “I am a stupid girl, thinking I could see to my own defense.”
The tension fell away from Darragh. She had put to words what he needed to know, but a new sense of purpose rose in his gut. He would protect her. He would avenge her. “Ye are fine with me now. Ye can do more than any other women I know.”
Pulling back, her tear-stained, blotchy face crushed him. “I can do very little. D'ye not see that?”
“No. I see ye can do much. Brighit?” He swallowed, attempting to pull back on the skepticism that had crept into his tone. He didn’t want to offend, he wanted her to stop berating herself. “Ye are not a man, but ye have great ability and skill. ’Tis plain. No one can argue that. If a man was stronger than ye and hurt ye, ‘twas not a fair fight.”
She wiped at her tears. “I was wrong to think I could defeat any man.”
“I’ve seen ye defeat many men.” He wanted to shake her, make her realize how very special she was to him, but even more importantly he wanted the name of the man who’d dared to hurt her. “Tell me who bested ye?”
“He knocked me off my horse.” Her eyes darted away as if again seeing the fight. “I couldn’t breathe when I hit the ground. He was livid. He would have taken out his anger on me. But I couldn’t let him discover I was a woman.” What could have happened next hung in the air between them, each knowing what he would have done. “I couldn’t let him find out.”
Darragh was beside himself, struggling with what to do, what to say, how much to comfort her. He needed to hear this story in full, however, so he locked his jaw tight, his hands fisted at his sides.
She turned toward him, but not seeing him. “He was massive and his expression was so cruel. I thought—“ She looked away, a great sob heaving her chest. “I could best him because I was faster but he showed me how wrong I was.”
Brighit hugged her self tightly, gazing toward the ceiling as if seeing the sky. “He laughed at me and shoved me away when he could have ended me right there. A fair fight and he gave me a second chance, taunting me.” She dropped her gaze to Darragh. “He knocked me down and got on top of me. He beat me with his fists and…and I could do nothing.”
She covered her face, her shoulders heaving but no sound coming out of her as she broke down.
He took her in his arms while her body was wracked with sobs. Compassion for her heightened his need to defend her. So close to getting the name of the man, he smoothed down her hair as if she were a child. Brighit shook her head, defeated.
He spoke in a tight whisper. His anger barely contained. “Tell me who did this.”
“It was Cathair.” Her words erupted on a sob. “Cathair beat me…and I killed him for it.”
Chapter 23
Brighit could see the man again in her mind.
“D'ye seriously want to do this?”
Cathair had wanted revenge for something and he’d wanted it from her. If she had not defended herself at all, he would have found out she was a lass sooner and then…his excited expression at finding her binding and realizing she was a female flashed through her mind. She shivered.
Darragh’s concerned expression broke through her thoughts right before her mind went to Seigine, mounted and watching from the crest of the hill. It suddenly struck her as odd, beyond odd, that he’d sat there waiting. Watching. Had he stayed to see if his brother needed assistance? No. He would have assumed Cathair needed no help, so why watch? Why not join the others in fighting her uncle and brothers? Had he—
It was the disbelief on Darragh’s face that finally halted her tears and stiffened her spine. There was no question about what she was saying and he had to understand that. Having confessed, it was required that she be believed.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I do not believe ye.”
She refused to respond, keeping her expression blank, and remained quiet.
“I saw the body, Brighit.” Darragh shook his head as if shaking off a bad dream. “Ye could never be so vile, so cruel, so destructive.”
The tears had stopped and Brighit felt an overwhelming relief in his condemnation of what she’d done. She glanced away, unable to meet his eyes.
“He was beating me, and when he felt the bindings at my breasts, his expression…changed. He became excited about discovering I was a woman because it meant he could punish me even further.”
“Punish ye?”
“I shouldn’t have been on their land. It was the middle of the night.”
Something flickered in Darragh’s eyes, and she feared that she’d somehow revealed her uncle’s role.
“I had wanted to take a midnight ride. One last ride as a final goodbye to my freedom.”
Darragh’s brows dipped low. “And have ye found yerself truly subdued by me?”
She blew out a breath. “Ye know I have not. I was so wrong in what I thought of ye. Forgiveness, please?”
“For thinking the worst of me or for breaking our agreement?”
She winced. “Both.”
He was measuring her sincerity, she knew it deep down in her gut. It was on his face. He wondered if she could ever be trusted again.
“Ye are forgiven,” he said. No hesitation. No disappointment in his tone.
Brighit had not expected that. Somewhere in her thoughts she’d imagined him railing at her about her willfulness for not listening to him. And he would have been right to do so. Although breaking their agreement had not been her idea, she had gone along willingly enough. Niall had merely been looking for a way to indulge his beloved niece, but all his plans had gone awry.
“I was wrong to sneak off and to be on their land. I had thought no harm would come of it.” She hadn’t thought at all. Holding up her hand when he started to speak, she continued, “Do not ask more of me. I will speak only of my crime.”
Darragh flattened his lips, not in the least bit happy with her. “Crime? It sounds like defense to me.” He hesitated, his gaze dropping away. “I’m not certain how the rig túaithe will judge it.”
She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. When she opened them again, Darragh was staring at her. “Tell me how it happened. Exactly.”
“I do not want to relive it.”
“I wouldn’t ask it of ye unless I needed to hear it myself.”
Brighit had gone over this so many times in her head, but where was she to start without implicating Niall?
“I was racing across the field, pushing Valiant up a hill at top speed.” The sight of Cathair following her flashed through her mind. “I saw a man following me and…” The sound of the fighting that had broken out behind her filled her ears. The others had attempted to send her to safety—they’d never imagined she would be chased. “…he was relentless in his pursuit. I couldn’t get away.”
She took a quivering breath. “When I thought I had lost him because h
e was no longer behind me, he knocked me from my horse. He’d gotten the jump on me, arriving at the bottom of the hill before I could.”
“Which hill?”
“What?”
“Tell me which hill ye went up?”
“The one to the east.”
“That is the opposite of my túath. Did ye not wish to return home?”
She had been going where Niall told her to go, away from the MacNaughton so they couldn’t be traced back. “I was…panicked.”
Darragh watched her, his face expressionless.
“D'ye wish me to continue?”
“Not if ye continue to prevaricate.”
Brighit turned away, petrified that he’d see the truth of his words, her guilt, on her face. “I cannot—”
“Ye must tell me everything, Brighit. If they find out that ye killed him––”
“Seigine knows that I killed him. He saw me. He watched from the top of the hill as I murdered his brother.”
Darragh’s mind reeled with the revelation. She’d murdered a man with his brother a witness?
“Seigine watched the man beat ye?”
She nodded.
“And did nothing to help ye?” His irritated tone had Brighit pulling back, fear in her eyes.
“When he finally came closer…after I killed Cathair…I got on Valiant and I rode away from him. I was afraid of what he would do to me, but he didn’t chase me.”
“Were ye still dressed as a lad when Seigine saw ye?”
Brighit hesitated the slightest bit, and said, “I was still dressed as a lad.”
Darragh nodded thoughtfully before asking, “Cathair used his hands to beat ye?”
Brighit nodded. Swallowing, she opened her mouth to continue but nothing came out, her eyes were wide with fear. Chagrined, Darragh poured her some mead from the carafe left for them on the chest. “Mayhap this will help ye.”
After one sip, she got up and ran behind the single screen to the chamber pot, retching loudly. The sweetness of the drink must have sickened her. In two strides, he was beside her, pulling the loose hairs away from her face and rubbing her back. “A ghráidh. Ye have been through much.”