Wild Angel

by Miriam Minger

  As he turned to wrest another bridle from the wall, nearly staggering into another smelly dung pile, Triona ventured closer.

  "Going riding?"

  "No, I plan to flail myself with the thing!" he shouted as he rounded on her, his handsome face a mask of fury. "I was only—"

  "Of course I’m going riding, woman. To get as far away as I can from you! At least you’ve saved me the task of escorting you here to Carlow, and for that, you’ve my thanks!"

  Stung, Triona nonetheless remained undaunted. "You’re hardly in any shape to stand let alone ride, Ronan. Mayhap if you sat down for a while, we could talk."

  Again he seemed taken by surprise, but it was short-lived.

  "We’ve nothing to discuss," he said in a voice grown so low that it seemed strikingly more ominous than his belligerent ranting. "As I told you to stay well away from me, Triona. I’ve no stomach any longer for your spiteful tricks or accusations."

  "What if I haven’t come to accuse?" she asked, stubbornly standing her ground no matter that his eyes were blazing into hers like silver fury. "What if I told you that I’ve come to apologize? I wanted to last night, but you were so angry. I’ve been wrong about Conor. To blame you, I mean. I can see now how much you’ve suffered. And—and I don’t hate you, Ronan."

  He gave no answer, a muscle flashing at his jaw. Taking that as a much hoped for cue he might be ready to listen, Triona opened her mouth to say more only to have him suddenly lunge for her. She stumbled backward in surprise, but there was nowhere for her to go as she crashed up against a stall. The next thing she knew she was pinned there by the shoulders, Ronan’s face mere inches from her own.

  "You don’t listen to warnings, do you? You persist in torturing me, taunting me—"

  "It was no taunt!" His grip hurting her, Triona tried to twist free. "Niall was right! You’re too drunk to listen to reason. But like a fool I said I couldn’t wait—"

  "No, you couldn’t wait to show me one last time how much you truly despise me. Well, go on, then! You have my full attention—as much as a goodly intake of wine will allow, and I’m within range as I’m sure you wanted. Scream your taunts in my ear, stomp on my toes, strike me, slap me like the wild hellion you are, but have done, woman, and then leave me in peace!"

  As Ronan released her shoulders, Triona wasted no time. She rose on tiptoes and Ronan seemed to brace himself, but his eyes widened when she flung her arms around his neck.

  "So now you’re going to throttle—"

  He was silenced as she pressed her lips against his, hoping desperately that if he wouldn’t listen to her words at least he would understand her kiss. She exulted when his arms flew around her to crush her body against him, a ragged groan breaking from his throat. But when he lifted his mouth from hers, breathless moments later, his eyes held even more pain.

  "Witch. I should have known you’d strike at me with the cruelest trick of all. To tease me so wantonly with what I can never call my own . . ."

  Triona was stunned, tears leaping to her eyes. "You . . . you think I’m just playing some spiteful game?" She was so hurt that now she did try to stomp on his toes, but before she could prove successful he’d swept her into his arms. "No, let me down! Coming here was a mistake. Let me down!"

  He didn’t answer, carrying her kicking and struggling to the back of the stable where it was dark.

  "Ronan? Ronan, what are you doing?"

  She got her answer when she was dumped onto a soft pile of straw, Ronan pinning her down with his powerful body before she thought to try to flee.

  "Ronan—"

  His lips were brutal as they captured hers, his mouth hot and tasting of wine. Lying stiff as a board beneath him, Triona nonetheless gave up any notion of fighting him when his kiss deepened, his tongue lashing wildly at hers. Soon everything felt hot, so hot, until she felt, too, as if she were melting into the straw. She began to kiss him back, her eager response making him groan and lift his head.

  "Aye, woman, if this is how you wish to taunt me then we will play it out. We will play it out!"

  He said nothing more, his mouth devouring her as his hand slipped between their bodies. Triona felt a sharp tug, but his ravaging kiss kept her so preoccupied that she had no notion that her trousers were being dragged from her hips, or that the hard bulge pressing so insistently between her thighs had sprung free of its restraint.

  She knew it, though, when his hot turgid flesh slid easily into hers, Ronan grasping the balled fists her hands had become and pushing her even deeper into the straw.

  "Aye, taunt me," he said into her mouth, his voice low and raw as he sank into her deeply, so deeply, then withdrew with agonizing slowness. "Tease me, woman." He sank into her again, and Triona could not help but moan. "Ah, that’s it. With your hips, your beautiful body, with your soft taunting mouth, so hot . . . so wet . . ."

  He barely had begun to thrust faster when Triona cried out, her body growing rigid as her climax burst upon her with lightning swiftness. But it was no more sudden than Ronan’s, his shattering release nearly causing him to black out.

  And when he did try to lift his head long moments later, he felt such a streak of pain that he moaned aloud. As dizziness crashed over him, he rolled onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. It was then that he heard ragged sobbing, the sound carrying straight as an arrow to his wine-dazed brain.

  By God, what had he done? Triona . . .

  He reached for her, but she was gone.

  Chapter 27

  "TRIONA!"

  His hoarse shout greeted by nervous neighing, Ronan swiftly fastened his trousers as he lurched to his feet, rising just in time to see Triona scrambling onto Laeg’s back. He began to run, pitching crazily, but he was so far to the rear of the stable he had no chance to stop her. She veered her stallion out into the moonlit yard before he even got to the doors.

  And when he lunged outside, he couldn’t believe that the O’Nolan’s men opened the gates for her, but they did, no doubt fearing she would have crashed into them if they hadn’t. Now Triona was truly gone, careening wildly out into the night. And it was his fault! His damned fault!

  As shouts went up, the commotion raising an alarm, clansmen began to pour from the hall, the O’Nolan and Niall among them. But Ronan paid them little heed as he rushed back into the stable, willing himself to think clearly despite the wine still dulling his senses.

  Within what seemed no more than a moment’s time, he had bridled his stallion and led the snorting animal out into the yard. Only to come face-to-face with Niall who bore down upon him, his eyes ablaze.

  "What’s happened? Damn you, Ronan, what have you done?"

  His tense silence seemed to confirm Niall’s worst fears. In the next instant, Ronan felt a shattering blow to his jaw that felled him.

  "Stay off of him, man!" roared the O’Nolan to Niall as Ronan staggered to his feet, grimacing in pain. "He’s your brother, aye, but he’s your chieftain as well!"

  "Chieftain or no, he deserved it! The woman came all this way to apologize to him. All this way!"

  Ronan faced Niall, his brother being restrained with great difficulty by three strapping clansmen. "Release him."

  "Aye, I’m not finished with you!" Niall shouted, although the O’Nolan gestured for his men not to abandon their hold in spite of Ronan’s command. "Another good crack and mayhap you’ll see that you’ve just chased away a woman who wants to be your bride, only the saints know why!"

  Triona’s sobbing coming back sharply to haunt him, Ronan had never felt so wretched. "She said this to you?"

  "Not to me, brother, because she wanted to tell you herself! She couldn’t have been more eager to see you—aye, nervous, too, because she knew how badly she’d hurt you. But when we saw that you’d been drinking, I told her she should wait until morning. But she couldn’t wait, Ronan! She couldn’t wait to tell you how sorry she was for accusing you so wrongly about Conor. Couldn’t wait to tell you how much she cares!"

&
nbsp; Ronan could say nothing, his throat was so tight. God help him, he deserved that Triona would never come back to him. After what he’d done to her—

  "Aye, it’s hitting you, isn’t it? As well it should! And you know what’s the most ironic thing of all, brother?" Ronan met Niall’s eyes.

  "All along when you thought Triona hated you? She was only acting as she did because she thought you truly didn’t want her. Aye, you heard me. She thought she was nothing but an obligation to you—that if she ever wed you, you’d go right back to trying to make her into something she wasn’t just as you did when she first came to Glenmalure."

  "I do want her," Ronan said in a fierce whisper. "I love her."

  "Aye, well, you’ve done a fine job of showing it!"

  "Then get out of my way, damn you, and let me find her!" His jaw still throbbing, Ronan vaulted onto his stallion’s back and gathered up the reins.

  "Triona can’t be thinking to ride far, brother," Niall said, his voice now not half so angry. "At least not tonight. She wouldn’t run Laeg that hard after riding all the way to Carlow without a stop."

  Without a stop? Ronan once more felt his throat tighten as he looked down at his brother. "I owe you much, Niall O’Byrne."

  "Tell me that after you’ve found her, Ronan. And if she’ll still have you. Now go on with you!"

  He did, galloping toward the gates as Taig O’Nolan shouted after him, "Aye, and we’ll be searching, too! My men know the Blackstairs like the palm of their hands. We’ll send up a shout if. . ."

  Ronan was already well down the hill, the O’Nolan’s words lost to his mount’s pounding hooves.

  ***

  Triona didn’t know where she was riding. All she knew was that she had to escape. Her eyes blinded by tears, she was grateful that Laeg was so surefooted for she wasn’t doing a very good job of guiding him.

  She was grateful, too, for the full moon shining over a wholly unfamiliar glen. She pressed on past densely wooded hills that rose sharply into peaks that weren’t as high as those of Glenmalure but just as rugged-looking. But when Laeg’s gait began to grow labored, she knew that she couldn’t push him much farther. They would have to stop and rest, at least for a few hours.

  Then what? Triona asked herself, veering her exhausted stallion into the forest to lessen the chance that anyone would find her. She dismounted and began to lead Laeg almost aimlessly through the trees, each step giving her no answer to her question other than that she never wanted to see Ronan again.

  Fresh tears burned her eyes as she remembered what he’d called her.

  A witch.

  And worst of all he had forced himself upon her, after he’d said he would never do so again. Aye, she may have given in to him, but if she’d fought him tooth and nail, would it have made any difference?

  Triona nearly bumped into a gnarled oak, she was so ravaged by her thoughts. Sighing, she decided this place was as good as any to rest for a while but when she tried to tether Laeg, he tossed his head at her and kept walking.

  "What is it, Laeg?" She followed after him, not surprised that her voice had gone hoarse. It seemed she’d done enough crying within the past few days to last a lifetime.

  Laeg’s high-pitched whinny sent a chill racing through her. Triona lunged for the reins as the frightened animal suddenly bolted.

  "Laeg, no! Wait!"

  She was too late, snatching at nothing but air and losing her balance in the bargain. She hit the ground so hard that the wind was knocked with a painful whoosh from her lungs, but she didn’t lie on her stomach for long. An ominous howl coming from somewhere not too far behind her made her scramble to her feet, her eyes darting all around her as she set off at a desperate run after Laeg.

  Jesu, Mary and Joseph! She had to find her horse! If there were wolves following their trail she would need weapons, but her bowcase was still in the leather sheath strapped to Laeg’s back.

  Another chilling howl made Triona run harder, but the trees were so thick that she had to weave in and out—which served only to slow her down. And nowhere did she see any sign of Laeg, not that she could have spied him so easily. The forest had grown almost as black as pitch, very little moonlight filtering through the abundant summer leaves.

  Foolish ninny! Triona paused a brief moment to catch her breath and get her bearings. She should never have strayed so deeply into the woods. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with Ronan, she would have been thinking more clearly and paying attention to what she was doing.

  A terrified whinny suddenly sounded in the distance, Triona fearing in that moment for her stallion’s life. Oh God, if the wolves had found him . . .

  "Run, Laeg! Run!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs, hoping her voice would carry through the trees. She bolted herself when she saw a dark skulking shape out of the corner of her eye, her heart hammering wildly.

  She shrieked again, this time in a desperate attempt to frighten away the demon dogs she sensed like an evil wind were following her. She pulled her jeweled dagger from its sheath, grateful she had at least something to use against them. Hoping that Laeg had found his way safely out of the woods, she headed herself in a direction that she prayed would take her back into the open.

  Her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she kept shouting as she ran, shouting and waving her arms. She even glanced behind her once, but what she saw made her not want to turn around again. She’d spied at least five wolves gliding like hungry wraiths in her wake, so close to her now that she could see the fearful yellow glow of their eyes.

  Helplessness filled her. She would never be able to fight them with one small dagger. Somehow she had to elude them; she began to search desperately for a tree she could climb. But the lowest limbs were well over her head, and when she heard a low growl off to her left, she knew with horrible certainty that the wolves were circling around her.

  A moment later she heard another feral growl no more than fifteen feet in front of her. She began to laugh giddily, for the first time in her life her fear so great she could taste it.

  She stopped and pivoted in place. There was nowhere else she could go. Again she shrieked as loud as she could, but her ploy didn’t daunt the stealthy creatures. She saw a dark flash as the nearest wolf lunged for her, screaming in earnest as she somehow managed to dodge its lathered jaws and yet swipe across its belly with her dagger.

  She heard a shrill yelp, praying that she’d injured the creature severely enough to fell it. But then another wolf came at her, this one much bigger than the last. Before she could lunge out of the way, the hellhound’s weight knocked her hard to the ground, her dagger flying from her hand. Yet she felt no fanged teeth sinking into her flesh, the night creature slumping lifelessly across her legs, its warm body twitching.

  Stunned, Triona saw the fletched arrow sticking from its ribs at the same moment someone yanked her bodily to her feet and thrust her against a tree.

  "Don’t move!"

  She couldn’t have if she had wanted to, tears coursing down her cheeks as she was shielded by Ronan’s body, his back wedging her in place. She heard him curse as another wolf lunged at them . . . heard the zinging arrow find its mark, the vicious growls abruptly falling silent. Thrice more it happened, Ronan finally stepping away from her to pull her roughly into his arms.

  "By God, woman, you’ve never been one to make things easy on a man."

  She wasn’t going to make it any easier now, either, no matter that Ronan had just saved her life. Balling her fists, she pounded upon his broad chest, his arms, his shoulders, though her heart was screaming to her to throw her arms around him and hold him tight. But if she wouldn’t, he did, crushing her against him, his voice raw and impassioned.

  "Tell me it’s not too late for us, woman! Tell me that you can forgive me . . . that you might still want me."

  She squeezed her eyes tight against scalding tears that would not stop, his rampant heartbeat thudding in her ear. "How can you ask that of me when I’m nothing to you? A d
uty, an obligation . . . a—a witch!"

  "No, Triona, you’re an angel. My angel."

  His warm lips covered hers, drawing her breath from her in a kiss more passionate than any that had gone before. Yet it was achingly brief as Ronan pulled away from her to sweep his weapons from the ground. He found her dagger, too, the diamonds sparkling in the dim moonlight, and returned it himself to the sheath at her belt.

  "Many are looking for you, Triona. They must know that you are safe."

  He lifted her into his arms before she could say a word, and hugged her close against his chest. "Thank the saints that you’ve the lungs of a banshee. Else I would never have found you in time . . ." He didn’t finish, brushing a kiss to her temple as he set off with her through the woods.

  "But, Ronan, the arrows. You used a bow."

  "Aye, so I did," he murmured, kissing her hair. "Anything for you, Triona, anything, though the bowcase is yours. Laeg burst from the woods just as I reached the tree line. I had only to whistle as you do to bring him back."

  "Then he is safe?"

  "Aye. Like you."

  His voice gone hoarse, Ronan said no more for he could not.

  Triona, meanwhile, for once held her tongue that she was perfectly capable of walking. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder.

  Chapter 28

  IF RONAN HAD had his way, he and Triona would have been married that very night.

  But the O’Nolan voiced at once that no man should go into his wedding other than stone-cold sober, while Triona insisted they must wait until they got back to Glenmalure so Aud could be present. After all, it had been her maid’s long held hope that one day Triona would find a man she could accept as her husband.

  Triona’s argument won easily over Taig O’Nolan’s, for Ronan had been dead sober from the moment Niall had slammed him on the jaw. But now as he watched her being hustled away by a bevy of women who’d been charged to see that Triona was fed, bathed, and put to bed for a good night’s sleep before their long ride home tomorrow, Ronan felt like getting drunk all over again.