by Ashley York
Someone shifted near the end of the table, but Darragh couldn’t be certain who it was.
“I have.” Francis looked straight ahead, raising his goblet to his mouth. “D'ye remember, Devin?”
“I do, Father.”
Darragh leaned forward to take in the strikingly ominous expressions of the Meachair, all three of them.
“A long time back now.” Devin continued. “After Liam had nearly had his head split open with a rock."
Tisa gasped. “How terrible.”
Francis turned toward the other end of the table, and though Darragh couldn’t see his expression, the tightness of his body reminded him of an arrow about to be let lose.
“D’ye remember the time, Seigine? Ye were fostering with me.”
The man’s face was suffused with anger. “Are ye still claiming I’m the one who tried to hurt yer lad? Ye couldn’t prove it then and ye cannot prove it now.”
Liam sat on the far side of Seigine. “But I remembered, despite yer claim of innocence. ’Twas ye who hefted the boulder over me, barely missing my skull.”
Shaking his head, Seigine tried to make light of it. “We were children. I had no reason to want to cause ye harm.”
Francis continued with the same hard tone. “And at the time, we’d several animals that had been savaged and left for dead.”
“A hard winter, too, and with the extra mouths to feed…” Devin’s voice dropped off.
“A decision was made to quit the fostering and ye were returned to yer clan.” Francis faced front again, his lips flat against his teeth.
The people seated in front of them continued their conversations, eating and drinking, oblivious to the sudden tension at the head table.
Brighit swallowed loudly beside Darragh and he clasped her hand that rested on her lap. He offered her a smile of encouragement and removed his hand before giving her a gentle nod. She stood beside him, a tight smile on her face.
“If ye’ll excuse me, I need to check on my father’s arrival. I expect him anytime.”
“Of course, dear.” Tisa said. “Ye may check with the guards at the gate. Word may have come after we sat down to dinner.”
“Would the guard not have brought us the information?” Tadhg asked.
Darragh tensed as did Brighit. If she wasn’t able to leave the hall, there would be no opportunity for Seigine to speak to her. Their plan would be stalled.
Tisa shrugged. “He does not always deem it necessary.”
Tadhg’s expression of surprise was followed by a loudly exhaled breath, and Darragh felt certain he was about to defend his men.
“Father, allow my wife to see to whatever she needs to.” He widened his eyes, hoping to instill the slightest question in his father’s mind about her reasons for needing to leave.
Tadhg merely nodded, no doubt catching his meaning. “Certainly.”
Devin stood on cue as soon as Brighit disappeared into the entry hall. “Calum.”
A man turned toward him with a look of surprise before glancing around to be sure he was the Calum who’d been named.
“Calum.” Devin laughed and stepped away from the table, clasping the man’s arm in a tight grip. “Do not tell me ye do not remember me.”
The man smiled and nodded and those at the head table quickly lost interest.
“Did ye enjoy yer duck, Darragh?” Tisa asked, dabbing at her lips with a cloth.
“Certainly. My favorite.”
Tadhg turned his back to the others at the table. “And when ye return, we always eat well.”
Darragh smiled, answering absentmindedly while his eyes followed Seigine, who also left the table. Stretching, he went toward the side table covered with pitchers of ale and mead. Reaching toward a tall clay pitcher, he glanced around. Darragh turned to his father, Seigine still in his sights as the man left by way of the entry hall.
“Is something amiss?” Tadhg asked, his stoic expression intact.
“What d'ye mean?”
He glanced at Francis. “Are we laying a trap for anyone in particular?”
“Indeed we are,” Darragh said.
Darragh stood, tipping his head toward Francis, who also stood. “And we’ll know soon enough if we were successful.”
Brighit had waited at the door until she saw Seigine leave the table. Her hand gripping the latch, she counted to five before opening the door leading outside.
“Brighit.” A sense of satisfaction flowed through her when Seigine called her name. In a flash, she forced her expression to collapse into a frown as she turned toward the man.
He glanced around to see no one was near. “Little one, ye surprised me.”
She swallowed. “I did as ye demanded. If ye are not given the kingship, ‘twill be because of yer own foolishness and not for lack of trying on my part.”
The man stopped close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look into his face, his heated anger pouring off of him. “Ye insult me and yet I am well pleased by the attempt.”
When he touched her cheek, she cringed. His hand stilled.
“But that is not the game ye will play now, certainly. Not when I wish to show my appreciation for yer efforts.”
He moved forward, trapping her between the wall and his huge body. “We have other things to see to now.”
“I will not be yer whore.” She spat the words at him. If this was the direction of his thoughts, it would be difficult to turn the conversation toward his brother. She prayed Darragh and the others were within hearing of the man—his voice was so low, it was nearly a whisper. When he pressed his hips against her, she tried to shove him away.
“Ho ho.” Seigine grabbed her hands, glanced behind him, and pushed her through the door into the outside. The pitch dark enveloped them as he dragged her into the shadow of the castle. She cried out in pain when he shoved her against the wall.
“I will see to this now.”
He pulled at the ties of his trews, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness. Brighit did the same, her ears straining to hear anything. They would never find them here. Nothing was going as planned.
“Stop this at—.” She cried out and his large hand covered her mouth, strangling her words.
Seigine’s eyes rounded, his face so close she could smell the sour ale on his breathe. “When I was so looking forward to ravaging ye? Will this be the way of it?”
She held his gaze, his meaty fingers squeezing her mouth tight. There was no chance of her getting him to talk like this. It took all her will power to shake her head knowing it would be a sign of her acquiescence. He beamed, stroking her cheek as if he were petting a cat.
He reached beneath his mantle and withdrew the serpent-headed miodóg, holding it up to her face. “This is the very weapon ye used. Shall I show it to yer lusty husband?”
“I know I did not kill yer brother.” Brighit blurted it out, hoping to redirect his thoughts. “I stabbed him only once. Ye murdered him in a rage.”
He smiled. “Ah, very good, little one. I told ye that ye intrigued me.”
She held her breath and prayed his arrogance would make him want to tell her the rest.
“Ye did disappoint me in not killing him. I had such high hopes, but when I went to check on him, he was coming to even then. He shook his head, searching for ye. So I took the knife out and shoved him down. I stabbed him until he stopped struggling against the inevitable.”
“And ye say this is the dagger that killed yer brother?” Tadhg stepped away from the building, his hands at his waist.
Seigine didn’t move, his widening eyes remaining on Brighit. A panicked expression. “It is.” His voice louder now. “And I certainly should have mentioned that I personally witnessed the brutal attack. I was unable to stop it, but when I came to my brother’s aid it was too late to save him and the murderer had ridden off.”
“Unhand my wife.” The demand was delivered in a low, unyielding tone, Darragh’s voice as sharp as a shard of glass. “Immediately
.”
“I cannot, my friend. She murdered my brother and she must face her punishment.”
It was Francis who broke out in applause, his slow, steady clap accelerating. “Well done, Seigine. Well done indeed.”
“Datan, ye misunderstand—”
When Seigine would have turned toward his one-time mentor, Francis took the opportunity to shove him face first against the stone wall to the side of Brighit, a knife to his back.
“Remove yerself,” he said to Brighit, jerking his head toward Darragh. “We’ve got the man we want.”
She collapsed in her husband’s welcoming arms while her knees trembled beneath her, threatening to give way.
He held her tight against him, supporting her. “Ye did very well.”
“It did not go as we had planned.” Her sobs were taking hold of her and she fought to steady her breathing.
“It did not,” Darragh chuckled, “but ye kept yer head.”
Devin secured Seigine’s hands behind his back with the length of rope he’d brought. Francis all but growled when he yanked the huge man away from the wall, dragging him toward the heavy wooden door, and turned back to Darragh. “Ye’ve a wise one there, lad.”
Darragh nodded over her head, where her face was buried against his chest, fighting back sobs.
A firm hand on her shoulder squeezed gently. “Well done, daughter,” Tadhg said.
The men spoke around her, but she couldn’t pay attention. She fumed at how afraid she’d been. How she wished she’d stood up to him. Dropping her hand, she felt for Darragh’s dagger, which she kept strapped to her waist.
“My dagger.” Brighit pulled her head up, looking around. Seigine was gone, led away by Francis and his sons. Only Darragh and Tadhg remained with her. “May I have my weapon back?”
Her husband handed it to her. “Do not tell me ye thought I wouldn’t realize the importance of ye having this.”
Brighit ducked her head, her hand rubbing the hilt. Though flashes of the serpent’s head dripping with blood went through her mind, she was determined to reclaim the weapon. It was a good dagger and had served its purpose. It had protected her.
“I will see ye within.” Tadhg spoke to Darragh before turning to her, kissing her gently on the top of the head and disappearing through the doors.
She took a deep, shaky breath, forcing a genuine smile for her husband.
“I shall be fine.”
“Are ye certain?” His eyes rounded with his concern, and his hand made a gentle sweep of her cheek as he pushed her hair back. “Any other lass would have trouble recovering…but ye are not any lass.”
“And glad I am that ye know it.” Sifting through the many thoughts, regrets, and hopes running around her mind, she closed her eyes to gather her wits before speaking. “I have been more unlike myself these past few weeks than ever before.”
“But I know who I married, and I would be greatly saddened if my feisty love were to never show her face again.” He moved closer, their foreheads almost touching. “Mayhap I believed ye might be too much for me at one time, but now I know without any doubt that I want nothing less than all of ye.”
His kiss was gentle, considerate, as if testing how she felt about everything. She returned the kiss just as tentatively, his words having touched her deeply. Never before had she been totally accepted. Mayhap once, when she was young, her father had enjoyed her skill, but that had changed the moment she’d revealed her vulnerability. Darragh had chosen to prepare her to confront the man who would take her down, even arming her with a weapon.
Brighit pulled her lips away, her gaze unable to meet his. “Darragh, I want ye to know how much I love ye.”
Finally looking at him, she saw a stillness on his face she hadn’t expected. Fear bit into her, but she did not regret her words. Even if he didn’t love her back, her love was enough for both of them.
The moisture gathering in his eyes caught her by surprise. Darragh cleared his throat, glancing at the castle behind them before returning her gaze.
“To be loved by a woman as passionate and loyal as ye is all I could have ever hoped for…especially since I love ye, too.”
Epilogue
Brighit and Darragh met Sean in the bailey when he arrived bright and early the next day. Her father pulled her away from Darragh and embraced her as if he’d not seen her for years rather than a mere few weeks.
“How have ye fared?”
Her face nearly buried in her father’s burly chest, she managed to say, “I am fine, Father.”
He pulled back to look her in the face, a hand on each shoulder. “And ye’d tell me if ye weren’t?”
The cough behind him certainly sounded forced, but neither Sean nor Brighit turned to Darragh.
“I am well cared for by both my husband and my new clan.”
Sean’s expression relaxed into a beaming smile. “And that’s what I wanted to hear.” He finally reached out to take Darragh’s hand. “How have ye fared, son? My daughter not too much for ye?”
There was the slightest hint of a challenge in the question and Brighit turned to hide her grin.
“I find her just enough for me. Kind of ye to ask.”
“Sean.” Tadhg crossed the open bailey to his friend, whom he embraced. “Glad I am ye’re the first to arrive.”
“And why would that be?”
Brighit’s heart started racing. Would he insist that she and Darragh tell the story of how she’d put herself in harm’s way to reveal Seigine? But Tadhg wrapped a firm hand around Sean’s shoulders, turning him toward the castle and away from the couple. “We’ve a few things to discuss.”
Brighit and Darragh exchanged a relieved look. She had not looked forward to breaking the news to her father and it was clear her husband felt the same way.
“WHAT?”
As one, they turned toward Sean and Tadhg. Her father’s outrage was not something she’d seen very often. He was level-headed and seldom became this irate, but the look he sent her way made it difficult to swallow.
“Should I speak to him?” Darragh spoke quietly to her, neither of them daring to move.
“Probably not.” Brighit had no idea what to do, but she was thankful Tadhg was still leading him toward the castle. If anyone could get through to her father, it was his oldest friend. Though he seemed reluctant, Sean eventually allowed himself to be herded within.
“Praise God I did not have to explain how it all came to pass,” Darragh said.
Brighit turned her wide eyes on him. “Are ye that intimidated by my father?”
“When it comes to his only daughter, Sean is not reasonable.”
From the way he averted his eyes, Brighit knew there was something he was not sharing with her.
“He is an extremely reasonable man,” she said, countering his assertion in the hopes she’d convince him to talk.
Darragh threw his hands up in surrender. “Shall I share with ye how I was to take ye the first time?”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.
“Aye, he was extremely concerned that ye experience no pain.”
Brighit reddened. “Oh my.”
“He explained his first time with yer mother.”
Brighit covered her mouth.
“And had some very specific pointers for me.”
“Oh, Darragh, I am very sorry.”
Darragh shrugged. “It may have been intended only as a man-to-man talk but being that he is yer father…ye understand.”
She nodded, her lips pressed tight to keep from smiling.
“Besides—” Darragh wrapped his arms about her, pulling her into his warm embrace, “—it made me more determined to be sure our joining was without witnesses, making my bride very happy.”
“Very happy indeed.” Brighit offered her lips to his, still amazed at his ability to make her feel safe and secure when everything around them was dangerous and unknown. “Forgiveness please for hurting ye.”
He tipped her
chin up with a gentle touch, looking into her eyes. “My love, ye had been through a horrible ordeal. I wish only that ye could have shared it with me.”
“I should have trusted ye.” She nodded. “I did not trust Terrence over ye. Some of the powder had rubbed off. He saw the bruises.”
“Thank ye for that. Terrence told me ye refused to give him any details. I am pleased ye’ve decided ye could trust me.” He brushed her cheek. “We have come a long way with trust, have we not?”
“Indeed.”
“Good.” Darragh bent over to lift her from the ground, tossing her over his shoulder.
“What are ye about?” she squealed.
Heading to the left of the main entrance, where Tadhg was no doubt still soothing her father’s temper, Darragh climbed the steps that ran along the outside of the building, taking them two at a time.
“I’ve a powerful need for my wife.”
“Now?” Brighit gripped his body as she tried to pick her head up, forcing herself to resist any thrashing about or loud carrying on despite her desire to be put down.
“I can think of no better time.”
“But my father is here,” she said, and even to her ears it sounded like a lame excuse.
“And he’ll have to wait.”
She refused to laugh. “But—
He halted whatever she was about to say with a firm slap to her bottom, his hand remaining where it fell. When he started caressing her lightly, setting off her own need, Brighit decided there were definitely worst ways they could spend this time.
The council convened, and the proof brought forth before the panel of nobles included the testimony of the three witnesses who had heard everything Seigine had said to Brighit—Darragh, Tadhg, and Francis. Since Seigine himself confessed what he had done, there was little need for more discussion. The kings and others from the line of kings deemed worthy to be on this council were not insensitive to her plight, but it did become necessary for Brighit to tell her side of what had happened.
As was the custom, the meeting was held outside in plain view of any who wished to come and bear witness and most did. Brighit handled herself with a dignity rarely seen in any of the warriors who addressed the council. Although Sean’s outrage was barely contained as she told her story with little emotion, Darragh could only feel an amazing sense of pride in his wife.