Wild Angel

by Miriam Minger

  "Aye, I know what you’re thinking, man, and impetuous thoughts they are, too!" Taig bellowed, slapping Ronan on the back. "You’ve only made it worse for yourself by sampling a time or two what should have waited for the wedding."

  Ronan felt a stab of remorse, determined that the next time he and Triona made love he’d show her just how good things could be between a man and a woman. God knows, he hadn’t given her the best impression so far. And he’d hoped it would be tonight, but obviously he was going to have to wait.

  "Come on, Ronan. You owe me a toast."

  Ronan glanced at Niall, not surprised that his younger brother was grinning.

  "I do?" he tossed back, discovering it suddenly wasn’t so hard to grin himself. Clearly pleased, Niall’s smile grew all the wider.

  "Aye, I’d wager you didn’t know your own Tanist was a fine matchmaker as well."

  "That I didn’t." Ronan rubbed his jaw, which if the truth be known, still ached from Niall’s well-deserved blow. "Nor that you’ve a fist of iron. I guess I’ll not be calling you ‘little’ brother anymore."

  "That sounds fine with me and just so you know, Ronan, Maire helped, too. She wanted you and Triona to be together as much as I. She already loves her like a sister."

  "Enough of these revelations, come on the both of you!" Taig interjected, the talk of a toast apparently having whet his thirst. "One good drink and we’ll call it a night. The soon-to-be groom needs his rest as much as the beautiful bride, if you catch my meaning."

  Ronan did, once more casting a glance toward the dwelling-house where Triona had disappeared.

  "Impetuous, didn’t I say?" the O’Nolan said with a hearty laugh, grabbing Ronan’s arm.

  "Aye, it’s damned good to see," Niall replied, pulling Ronan along by the other.

  ***

  Ronan wanted to be back at Glenmalure before dark, so he, Triona and Niall left early the next morning.

  "Now don’t be forgetting to tell Aud that I hope to see her soon after you’re wed!" Taig called out as they walked their horses through the gates, Triona twisting around to reassure him.

  "I won’t, but I’m sure she’ll be making a journey to Carlow without a word from me!"

  Triona smiled at Taig’s pleased grin. After waving to him one last time, she faced front, blushing warmly when she saw that Ronan was watching her.

  Which was nothing new. He’d been staring at her ever since she’d left the house where she spent the night, almost as if he couldn’t believe that everything had worked out so well between them . . . much as she had been doing to him.

  "It seems we’ve more than one matchmaker in our midst, aye, Niall?"

  "So it does, brother."

  Enjoying their bantering tone, Triona shot a sly glance at Niall. "Aye, you’d better watch yourself, Niall O’Byrne. A fine handsome man such as you can’t go much longer without being snared."

  "I’d submit to being snared any day if I could have a woman as fair as you," he began, only to quickly amend as Ronan raised a black brow. "Except she’d have to be blond, of course. It’s no insult to you, Triona, but redheads come with fearful tempers and the most stubborn natures. Wouldn’t you agree, Ronan?"

  Triona glanced at him, the teasing warmth in his eyes making her insides feel all aquiver.

  "Aye, but that makes the winning of one all the sweeter." His husky tone flustering her even more, Triona decided she needed a diversion—fast.

  "Speaking of winning," she said playfully, looking out over the deep green glen that stretched before them. "How about a wee contest this morn? Say, to the other side of the glen? At this snail’s pace, we’ll never reach Wicklow by dark."

  She didn’t wait to hear their answers, spurring Laeg into a canter. But from the pounding of hooves, she knew Ronan and Niall were hard behind her which only made her ride faster.

  She laughed, too, like she hadn’t since she could remember, exhilaration sweeping her. It was such a rare wonderful thing to be in love. And she was, she knew that now, as surely as the sun was shining down upon them.

  That thought sobered her a little; she hadn’t yet told Ronan that she loved him. She hoped they would find a moment alone soon where she could do just that. She had been whisked away so abruptly last night at the O’Nolan’s command, the women who accompanied her well-meaning but not the company she craved. And this morning there had been so many people hovering around . . .

  "You’re going to lose if you persist in daydreaming!" Niall called out as his horse lunged past hers, Ronan already a length ahead of them both. Yet she could tell Ronan was purposely holding his powerful stallion back as if he didn’t want to be too far away from her, his protectiveness warming her.

  She leaned down low to hug Laeg’s neck so she could catch up with Ronan and there she stayed, at his side, the two of them letting Niall win by ten lengths. And even when they slowed their pace Triona never strayed far from Ronan, remaining either alongside him or directly behind when their route north through the mountain passes grew too narrow to ride abreast.

  They stopped briefly in the early afternoon for a meal, the moments filled with light ribbing between the two brothers. Niall had never seemed merrier, Ronan never more relaxed.

  It was just as Niall had hoped, his older brother becoming carefree. Triona hadn’t thought it possible that such a change could happen overnight, but with each passing hour she was seeing more of the man she remembered from her childhood.

  When Niall made a jest about Ronan perhaps cutting his hair a bit so he wouldn’t look so wild, Ronan’s laughter was resonant and deep, the sound thrilling Triona. But his easy smile made her heart stop, as close as he had come yet to the devil-may-care grin that had haunted her since she was a girl. She realized then that she must have loved Ronan for years, though even a few short days ago she would never have admitted it.

  "I don’t know, Niall. I like Ronan’s hair just the way it is."

  And she meant it, too, recalling with a shiver how untamed he’d looked after toweling dry his thick mane. But she shivered all the more when Ronan smiled at her, offering her a piece of the rosy apple he was cutting.

  "You see, brother? Already my soon-to-be bride defends me."

  She smiled back at him, her heart racing as she bit noisily into the sweet fruit.

  Soon-to-be. Tomorrow? It couldn’t be any earlier, for a priest would have to be brought from Glendalough. Even if some of Ronan’s clansmen left tonight, they wouldn’t return until morning, which meant she and Ronan must spend another night away from each other.

  "Is something wrong?" he suddenly asked her, searching her eyes. "You look flushed."

  "No—no, nothing’s wrong," she stammered, blushing all the more when a slow smile spread over Ronan’s handsome face. Why, he was teasing her! He knew full well what she’d been thinking! Trying hard not to smile herself, she threw the last bit of her apple at him and rose to her feet.

  "I’d say we should be going," Niall said wryly, glancing from her to Ronan. "I’m beginning to feel like the third wheel on a cart that needs only two."

  "Begorra, don’t be silly," Triona chided him, although in truth, she wondered if when they drew closer to the stronghold, Ronan might suggest Niall ride ahead so at least they could enjoy a kiss. But one look at Ronan and she mounted quickly, the smoldering heat in his eyes telling her that if his thoughts matched hers, a kiss would hardly satisfy him.

  Their pace was a swift one for the next few hours, the sun just beginning to settle into the trees when they finally reached Glenmalure. But Ronan didn’t say a word until the stronghold could be seen in the distance, and then he pulled his lathered mount alongside hers.

  "Something you said a while ago still haunts me, Triona."

  He looked so serious that Triona grew concerned, reining Laeg into a trot. "I’ve said a lot of things, Ronan. Some of them not so pleasant."

  He shrugged off that comment, the roguish spark in his gray eyes reassuring her. "You were readying y
ourself for a bath, as I recall. A cold bath. You said you loved them . . . hmmm, you said it was just like swimming naked in the lough."

  She softly drew in her breath, barely noticing that Niall had turned his horse around to wait for them. "Aye, I remember."

  "Is it true, then?"

  "What? That I like cold baths?"

  Ronan smiled at her teasing. "No, woman, it was the other I’ve been wondering about."

  "Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve enjoyed a swim or two when there’s been nothing between me and the water . . . but only when I’ve been alone."

  "That I’m very glad to hear. I wouldn’t like to know that any other man might have seen you—"

  "Unless, of course, someone might have been peeking at me behind the bushes. I’ve heard that men do such things now and again."

  Now Ronan was frowning, but before Triona could tease him further she was interrupted by Niall.

  "Are the two of you going swimming or not? You’ve still an hour or so of daylight, and the lough’s just over that rise."

  "Damnit, man, I was getting around to it," Ronan groused to his grinning brother, though he wasn’t really angry. He forgot about Niall spoiling his surprise altogether when Triona gave him a sly smile.

  "Aye, I might agree to go with you, but only if you don’t peek."

  As she suddenly urged Laeg into a gallop, Ronan could see that she hadn’t expected an answer. Nor would he have agreed to such a preposterous demand. But before he set off after her, he turned once more to Niall.

  "The priest—"

  "I know, brother. I’ll send for him as soon as I reach the stronghold. Enjoy your swim."

  "I intend to." Ronan left Niall and galloped up the rise, his blood beginning to heat at the chase. He saw that Triona had already disappeared into the thick stand of fir trees that sheltered the lough so he rode faster, the roar of the waterfall that fed the mountain lake growing ever louder.

  She was swimming by the time he burst through the trees, her scattered clothes showing how hastily she had stripped. Laeg, too, was enjoying himself, the bay stallion knee-deep in water and drinking contentedly. As Ronan rode down to the grassy bank, Laeg swung his sculpted head to look at them, snorting an invitation to his sweaty mount.

  "Aye, why don’t you let that poor beast of yours have a drink, too?" Triona called to him, treading water some thirty feet away.

  Unable to take his eyes from her, Ronan dismounted and gave his horse a sound smack on the rump, the steed eagerly joining Laeg. The water was murky from the recent rain, but Ronan could see Triona well enough. And the sight of her bare creamy skin made him want to join her all the more quickly. Wasting no time, he shed his sword belt and then tugged his tunic over his head.

  "That’s my horse’s name, you know. Beast."

  Remembering with a pang how she had once considered Ronan just that, Triona decided he still had a savage look about him, his midnight hair all tousled as he tossed his tunic to the ground. Suddenly growing nervous when his hands went to his trousers, she spun in the water so her back was facing him.

  "I didn’t say you couldn’t peek, Triona."

  Her cheeks flaring hot as fire, the water did nothing to cool her skin even when she sank under the surface for a brief moment, smoothing back her wet hair when she came up for air. Daring a glance over her shoulder, she was surprised to see that Ronan hadn’t yet removed his trousers.

  "Are you afraid to look upon the man you will soon wed, woman?"

  Chapter 29

  SHE KNEW HE was teasing her, but Triona felt apprehensive although she didn’t want Ronan to know. After all, she’d boasted enough times that she wasn’t afraid of anything . . . well, except for warty toads.

  Yet she couldn’t help being anxious after what had gone before. They’d been intimate together, but she still felt uncertain. She’d certainly never seen him fully unclothed. Growing more nervous, she grasped for the perfect excuse.

  "I-I’m not afraid. I’d just rather wait for our wedding night if it’s all the same to you. To—to see you, I mean."

  "Then I’ll honor your request."

  She heard a splash, spinning half around to see Ronan wading past the horses toward her. He was still wearing his trousers, which were now soaked past his thighs and sticking to him like a second skin.

  "It’s a fine soft day for swimming, wouldn’t you say?" she asked rather lamely, finding that she was still nervous just at the sight of his magnificent chest. The water was up to his hips now, which drew her gaze to his honed belly and that fascinating trail of hair descending from his navel.

  "See something that interests you?"

  She sucked in her breath, meeting his eyes. She saw humor there, gaze laced, too, with a heat she’d glimpsed before. "I . . . I was thinking you’re . . . well, very fit."

  "Funny, I was just thinking the same of you." He dove before she could sputter a reply, resurfacing only inches away from her. Shaking the water from his hair, he added roguishly as he tread water, "Funny, too, Triona, that you didn’t at least wear your shirt. But mayhap you don’t mind that I’m seeing you before our wedding night."

  His deep laughter rang out as she splashed him, then dove to get as far away from him as she could.

  If she’d known her tactic had given him a fine view of her bare bottom she probably would have swum away, but she wasn’t thinking too clearly anymore. Suddenly she felt very much like the little fish with a very big fish eyeing her for its supper. Resurfacing briefly, she looked for someplace to hide.

  She dove again, swimming underwater with an agility borne from long hours spent enjoying the loughs of Imaal. She kept going until she thought her lungs might burst, right through the wild tumult of current and foam created by the waterfall.

  When she finally broke through the surface, gasping for air, she was right where she wanted to be. Hoisting herself onto a rock ledge, she looked around her at the dripping cavern formed from centuries of cascading water. She had been in such places before but none as lofty as this one. As white water crashed in front of her, cool spray stinging her face, she shielded her eyes and looked out over the lough.

  She saw Ronan at once, diving again and again in a manner that could only be described as frantic.

  With a pang of guilt, she suddenly realized he must be very worried about her. Jesu, Mary and Joseph, perhaps even thinking the worse—that she might have drowned. But before she could try shouting to him, he just as suddenly began swimming toward the waterfall with furious strokes. Triona’s heart pounded almost as fast as she watched him. She had no sooner retreated to the back of the cavern where the tumbling water didn’t seem half so loud when Ronan launched himself onto the ledge, his relief plain to see.

  "Damnit, woman, are you trying to age me overnight?"

  "I’m sorry, Ronan. I wasn’t thinking . . ." Her voice trailed away as his gaze swept her. She wished then she had worn her shirt. Yet it made little sense that he should make her feel so nervous. Ninny, he was soon to be her husband! But she jumped all the same when he straightened and came toward her, her reaction causing him to stop just within arm’s reach.

  "Triona, you’ve nothing to fear—"

  "I’m not afraid!" she cut in, though Ronan didn’t appear convinced.

  "Then come to me," he dared her, stepping closer so she wouldn’t have that far to go although he kept his hands to his sides.

  Triona was shivering, and it wasn’t just because the air in the cavern was cool. With her arms crossed over her breasts, she took a small step, then another, until she and Ronan were standing only inches apart. Yet still his eyes beckoned to her. With a ragged sigh, she slowly dropped her arms to her sides.

  His hands were waiting for hers, so warm and sure, their fingers lacing together. Without touching her anywhere else, he bent his head to her ear.

  "I love you, Triona O’Toole. I would never do anything to hurt you. Never."

  She felt chills plummet all the way to her toes, and whe
n he drew back to look into her eyes, she knew she had found the moment.

  "And I love you, Ronan O’Byrne. More than you’ll ever know."

  She saw tears cloud his eyes, felt him shudder as he clasped her hands all the harder, but still he seemed to be waiting. Unlacing her fingers, she reached up and cradled his face with her hands, standing on tiptoe as she pressed her mouth tenderly to his.

  "I love you, Ronan—"

  His arms closing around her fiercely stole her breath, but she wound hers around him just as tightly, clinging to him as he kissed her with a passion as fervent as his embrace. She couldn’t say how long they stood there, nor did she care, her nervousness blessedly vanished.

  She wasn’t chilled anymore, either, his powerful body hotter than flame. It was the first time she’d ever felt his bare skin next to hers, her nipples rubbing against his chest, and she found herself craving more of the wondrous sensation. She blushed furiously when he pulled away to search her eyes, the scorching heat reflected in his gaze telling her that their thoughts were one and the same.

  "I want you, woman, but this time the choice must be yours. If it is your desire to wait until our wedding, I’ll honor—"

  He was silenced by her kiss, Triona in that moment feeling altogether brazen and bold. She wanted him as badly, and just to show him, she ran her tongue teasingly over his lips, her wanton gesture rewarded by a groan.

  But she didn’t stop there, darting her tongue inside his mouth while she ran her fingernails up his back . . . startling him, startling even herself, as if she knew instinctively how to please him.

  "I always knew you were a wild one, Triona O’Toole," came his husky voice against her lips. "But let’s see if you’d go so far as to undress me."

  Her eyes flared in surprise, but seeing his taunting smile, she eagerly accepted the challenge. Yet she also began to tremble as she slid her hands over his flat brown nipples and down his chest, her palms lingering to explore the rock hard contours of his abdomen before straying to the leather cord at his waist. She glanced up to see that he wasn’t smiling any longer, his eyes burning into hers, the intent look on his face making her fingers shake twice as badly.