Wild Angel

by Miriam Minger

  ***

  "Triona . . ."

  She awoke with a start from her half sleep, lifting her head from her crossed arms to find Niall watching her. Immediately she thought to fetch the healer, who had gone to lie down for a short nap in the next room. Then she would have to alert Maire, who’d reluctantly agreed to get some rest. But Triona no sooner rose from her chair when Niall caught her hand.

  "No. Stay."

  She obliged him, so relieved to see Niall conscious again that it was a good thing she’d sat back down. Her knees had gone a bit wobbly.

  "You and Ronan . . . You’re both sound? Safe? I feared when that first arrow struck me that they might find you, too."

  "No, no, we’re fine," she assured him, touched that Niall would be so concerned for their welfare when he’d been the one attacked. "Ronan’s just not back yet—"

  "Back?"

  "Aye, he and his men went after the spawn who did this to you. MacMurroughs from the sound of it."

  Niall gave a low, very weak whistle. "So they ventured into Glenmalure after all." Before Triona could stop him, Niall tried to sit up only to slump back to the mattress, groaning in pain.

  "Jesu, Mary and Joseph, are you trying to do yourself more damage, Niall O’Byrne?" she scolded, wondering if the healer had heard him. "Isn’t it enough that your clansmen found you looking like a prickly hedgehog with all those arrows stuck in you? Lie still now, or you’ll only make things worse!"

  Her indignant tirade was rewarded by a wan smile, but it was fleeting.

  "How long has Ronan been gone?" Niall asked, his concern plainly etched on his forehead.

  "Since dark last night, and I imagine now it’s almost dawn." Triona sighed with exasperation. "I wanted to go with them, too, but Ronan wouldn’t allow it. Do you know what that fine brother of yours said to me?"

  "Whatever it was, Triona, please don’t hold it against him. You know how much he loves you."

  She grew silent and looked away, only meeting Niall’s eyes again when he squeezed her hand.

  "I’m truly sorry all this came along to spoil things for you."

  "Begorra, Niall, what nonsense! As if you personally invited those MacMurroughs to visit Glenmalure—"

  "Aye, but this should have been your wedding day."

  "Well, mayhap Ronan might think to bring a priest back with him and surprise us," she tossed out, the idea secretly thrilling her. But she sobered when Niall groaned. "You’re in a bad way, aren’t you?"

  He didn’t have to answer, his handsome face gone white from the pain.

  "Rest easy, Niall. I’ll fetch the healer."

  To her astonishment, he held fast to her hand when she tried to rise. "God, no, Triona, spare me that torment. He’ll just make me drink some foul-tasting brew."

  "Unpleasant, mayhap, but a brew that should make you feel better or at least help you to sleep."

  She sighed when Niall shook his head stubbornly, but the boyish grin he somehow mustered truly amazed her.

  "A brimming cup of ale would do the job nicely, don’t you think?"

  Now she knew that he was going to recover, besides that she didn’t have the heart to refuse him. "Well, it would certainly taste better than the healer’s remedy. I’ll fetch one for you only if you promise not to try to rise from that bed again until the healer says you may. Are we understood?"

  "Aye, Triona, I promise."

  She smiled, clasping his hand. "Then a cup of ale it is."

  Chapter 31

  TRIONA WAS STILL sitting by Niall’s bedside hours later, Aud stitching a shirt near the flickering oil lamp while Maire was working quietly at her embroidery, when Flann O’Faelin appeared at the door. Niall was sleeping peacefully, so the huge Irishman kept his voice low.

  "I thought all of you might want to know, the O’Byrne’s back."

  Her heart lurching, Triona rose from the chair. "Ronan’s here?"

  "Aye, miss, and from the looks of it, there’s wounded among his men. I hope you can spare the healer—"

  "Maire and I can see to the O’Byrne’s brother," Aud broke in, her brown eyes alight as she turned to Triona. "Go on with you, sweeting! You’ve been waiting all these hours . . ."

  Triona needed no urging, careening past Flann in her haste to get outside. She squinted in the brilliant midday sun. The stronghold yard was alive with sounds: horses whinnying, dogs barking excitedly—aye, she heard Conn barking, too—people calling to each other, women and children rushing through the melee to find husbands and fathers. But she didn’t see Ronan anywhere.

  At once Triona began to fear that he might be among those wounded, Flann not having the heart to tell her. She plunged with a racing heart into the throng, her anxiety increasing by the moment. Then it occurred to her that Ronan might have gone first to their dwelling-house to look for her, which sent her running in that direction. But the instant she opened the door, she knew he wasn’t there, the place disconcertingly quiet.

  Once more she began to think the worst—until she realized that Ronan must have gone to see Niall, the two of them just missing each other in the crowd. Ninny! Of course he would go first to see his brother.

  Triona cut back across the yard, almost to Niall’s house when she suddenly spied Ronan talking with several of his men outside one of the stronghold’s grain houses. He seemed to be giving them orders. Strange. He seemed unconcerned for her or his brother.

  Stung, Triona turned her back the moment she realized Ronan had seen her.

  "Triona, wait!"

  She ignored him and kept walking, though she didn’t get far. He caught up with her almost at once, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her to face him.

  "Woman, have you gone deaf?"

  Triona jutted her chin, her eyes flaring. "Are you so busy already that you can’t take a moment first to find me and let me know you’re safe?"

  Recognizing her distress he swept her into his arms. "Do I look sound, Triona? Healthy? Whole?"

  She had to fight hard not to smile at his low teasing, thinking that Ronan had never looked more handsome to her despite his smelling strongly of sweat and horses. But that wasn’t so unpleasant either, she decided, a shiver racing through her.

  "Aye, you look well enough, but Flann said there were men wounded. I didn’t know—"

  "I’m fine, Triona, and fortunately no one suffered any grave injury. Our attack was a surprise after all." Releasing her, Ronan sobered, looking almost as grim as when he had been speaking with his men by the grain house. "Flann told me the moment we arrived that Niall was doing better, so I saw first to another matter."

  "And that was what?"

  Ronan looked out across the yard, his tone grown harsh. "I had a prisoner to attend to."

  "A prisoner?"

  "More a hostage. But come, we can speak of this later." He took her hand and steered her toward Niall’s house, his expression easing. "Tell me about my brother. When did he wake?"

  "Early this morning," Triona murmured, startled by Ronan’s swift change of mood. Clearly, he had dismissed his prisoner altogether from his mind and now Triona did, too, eager for him to see how well Niall was doing. "I was with him when he awoke, Ronan, just as you wanted."

  This news made him pull her close, hugging her as they came to Niall’s door. "I hope you’re not angry with me for asking you to stay."

  "You didn’t exactly ask me," she reminded him, slipping free of his embrace to enter the dwelling-house ahead of him. Then she just as quickly spun, throwing her arms about his neck as he crossed the threshold. "But mayhap I might forgive you for being such a tyrant if you’d say you were sorry—"

  His lips capturing hers was just the apology she craved, his strong arms circling her to crush her against him. He kissed her so passionately, his mouth warm and urgent, that she almost forgot where they were and why they’d come. Niall’s wry voice carrying to them from his room was an instant reminder.

  "Do I get a greeting before the two of you disappear for t
he rest of the day?"

  Her cheeks beginning to burn, Triona could see from the heat in Ronan’s eyes that the idea appealed to him as well. She took his hand and led him into Niall’s room, which was bright now with sunshine, the cloth covering at the window drawn back to emit the light.

  Remarkably Niall was sitting up, several pillows propped behind him while Aud stood at his side, plumping another. And Maire was smiling happily, looking from Ronan and Triona back to Niall. Yet for all Niall’s welcoming grin, he looked pale and physically weak, his voice holding a slight quaver.

  "Good to see you again, brother."

  Ronan left Triona to take the chair beside Maire’s. When he had ridden from the stronghold, he hadn’t known if Niall would survive the night. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat.

  "Aye, it’s good to see—" Ronan stopped, suddenly smelling the distinct odor of ale emanating from his younger brother. Casting a glance at Aud, who shrugged as if acquitting herself of any blame, and Maire, whose smile now appeared a bit uncertain, Ronan looked back to Niall.

  "Has the healer adopted some new method of cure for arrow wounds?" he demanded with mock sternness, trying hard not to smile. "A little something extra added to the poultice?"

  "Not at all, brother," came Niall’s somber response. "But I see no harm in washing down those nasty herb brews with a good draft of ale . . . when the healer’s back is turned, of course."

  "Of course." Ronan saw the glance Niall shot at Triona, who’d come up behind him and laid her hands upon his shoulders. "And, of course, you’ve enlisted someone to keep your cup well filled, have you not? You’re certainly in no shape to walk to the kitchen yourself—probably even less, now."

  "Aye, I’ve a kind helper," Niall said at the same moment Ronan caught Triona by the wrist, pulling her around into his lap.

  "A brazen redhead, mayhap?"

  "All right, all right, it was me!" Triona cried, squirming in Ronan’s arms. But she wriggled even more when he began to nuzzle her neck, which brought a low chuckle from Niall as Maire and Aud glanced at each other with very pleased expressions.

  "Any chance you might have brought a priest back with you, brother?"

  "Aye, I’d say that would be a wise thing from the looks of it," Aud interjected with a soft laugh.

  "And it’s a beautiful day for a wedding," Maire added, a note of excitement in her voice.

  "Aye, so it is, but I’ve no priest," Ronan said regretfully, feeling Triona grow very still against him. Sensing her disappointment, he gently swept some bright copper curls off her shoulder. "But now that I’ve seen for myself that my brother is well on the mend, I plan to send some men within the hour to Glendalough. Early afternoon tomorrow sounds like a fine time for a wedding, wouldn’t you say?"

  "Oh aye!" Maire exclaimed before Triona could reply, her outburst seconded as Aud gave a distracted gasp.

  "Why, the cook will have to be told at once if there’s to be a proper marriage feast!" Aud took an instant to lay her hand upon Niall’s forehead, clucked her tongue with satisfaction and then hurried across the room. "If I hear of you moving around too much, young man, you’ll have to contend with me!" she warned as she disappeared out the door.

  Triona looked from Niall to Maire to Ronan, all of them bursting into laughter. But their mirth was short-lived when Niall groaned, Triona slipping from Ronan’s lap to stand beside the bed. "Niall?"

  "I’ll fetch the healer," Ronan said, rising from his chair.

  "Aye, hurry, Ronan!" came Maire’s cry.

  "No, no, it was the laughing, is all," Niall tried to calm them, gesturing weakly for Ronan to resume his seat. "I must have bruised my ribs when I fell off my horse. And the healer’s got enough to keep him busy from the sound of it. I wasn’t sleeping so hard that I missed hearing Flann O’Faelin say there were men wounded."

  "Aye, but none seriously," said Ronan.

  "So tell me what happened—"

  "He’s brought a prisoner to Glenmalure is what’s happened," Triona cut in, moving to the empty chair on the other side of the bed. "No priest, mind you, just a hostage. Or so I was told."

  Triona had been jesting, but she wished she hadn’t said a word about the prisoner when she glanced at Ronan. His face had taken on a harsh cast unlike anything she’d ever seen from him, even those times when she’d made him furious. Nor had she seen his eyes so cold.

  "Is this true, brother?" Niall asked. "A hostage?"

  "Aye, a MacMurrough."

  Triona shivered at the hatred in Ronan’s voice. But Niall continued before she could say a word.

  "So you rode on Gorey and captured one of the bastards who attacked me?"

  Ronan shook his head. "They would have been waiting for us, spoiling for a battle, so we went deeper into Wexford instead."

  "Then who did you bring back?" Triona’s curiosity overcame her.

  "Kin of Donal MacMurrough."

  Triona was astounded, Donal the most powerful chieftain of the MacMurrough clan. "You attacked his stronghold in Ferns?"

  "Aye, I decided the offense against my brother was worthy of such a strike. And it proved an easy matter, the place no more well guarded than a church. Donal MacMurrough should have thought more of protecting his own rather than riding off to join his precious Norman king."

  Ronan rose to his feet, the matter clearly so detestable to him that he didn’t seem to want to discuss it further. But Niall persisted.

  "What ransom did you tell them you wanted for this hostage?"

  "Enough grain and cattle to last us for several winters" — Ronan’s hard expression eased as he glanced meaningfully at Triona— "and mayhap then I can forgo raiding so often to spend time in Glenmalure with my new wife."

  Warmed by the look in his eyes, Triona nonetheless couldn’t help bristling. "You make it sound as if I’m going to be waiting for you at home while you’re traipsing about the countryside, Ronan O’Byrne. Don’t forget that I’ll be raiding with you."

  "Begorra, here we go," came Niall’s low murmur as he laid his head back upon the pillow.

  "What do you mean, here we go?" Triona demanded, her gaze flying from Niall to Ronan. Maire kept her silence. "I am going to be riding with you, aren’t I? After our marriage?"

  When Ronan didn’t readily answer, Triona spun back to Niall. "So your brother likes me just the way I am, does he? Mayhap you might want to ask him again, Niall O’Byrne! It seems you might have read him wrong!"

  As furious tears blistered her eyes, Triona raced from the room before Ronan could stop her, slamming the outer door with all her strength. Immediately she felt a sharp twinge of guilt, wondering if the noise had hurt Niall’s aching head or startled Maire, but in the next instant she was running across the yard as Ronan came out after her.

  "Triona!"

  She ignored him and kept running, dodging clansmen and their families who still lingered about the yard. She even went so far as to spout hoarsely, "If the O’Byrne asks any of you to fetch a priest for him, don’t bother!" as she headed for their dwelling-house.

  But to her dismay when she got inside, there was no bolt to lock Ronan out. Instead she braced her back against the door as Ronan butted his shoulder against the stout wood.

  "Damnit, woman, do you truly think you’re strong enough to keep me out?"

  Triona shrieked as he leaned into the door, shoving it open so forcefully that she went tumbling to the floor. Scrambling away from him on hands and knees, she gulped air when she felt herself being lifted by her belt, Ronan catching her in his arms.

  "You . . . you spawn! Let go of me!" she cried, fighting harder than she’d ever fought him. But her wild struggling only got her thrown across his shoulders much as he’d done the first day she came to Glenmalure, her arms and legs tightly pinned.

  Yet that didn’t keep her from shrieking that he release her, right up until Ronan dumped her upon his bed. Her cheeks wet with frustrated tears, she barely had a moment to catch her breath before he
was on top of her, his weight pressing her down into the mattress before she could make any motion to rise.

  "Damn you, O’Byrne, I said let me—"

  His mouth silenced her, his kiss so incredibly possessive that it didn’t take long for her to cease struggling altogether. Yet when he lifted his head so she could draw breath, she blurted, "I won’t be a Lady Emer! Do you hear me? I won’t—"

  He silenced her again, kissing her more soundly than the last time, his powerful body making it impossible for her to move. She was dizzy when he raised his head to stare into her eyes, a taunting smile on his lips.

  "What makes you think I could ever content myself with a docile Lady Emer after I’ve tasted the likes of you?"

  Although she flushed furiously, Triona still wasn’t ready to give in to him. "Why didn’t you answer me, then? Why didn’t you say I’d be riding with you?"

  "Because of where we’re lying, Triona."

  Confused, she looked around her. "What does this bed have to do with raiding?"

  "Only that we’re going to make children here, you and I." He brushed his warm lips against her mouth, his eyes burning into hers like quicksilver. "A whole brood if I have anything to say about it."

  "Aye, I want children, too," she murmured, made breathless by the way he was looking at her. "But I still don’t see—"

  "They’re going to need their mother with them, don’t you think?"

  Actually, Triona had never thought that far ahead, given she’d never imagined she would find a man she could marry. She had to admit that Ronan’s argument made sense, but even so . . .

  "You hesitate, Triona."

  "Only because I never considered how things might be after a babe or two," she admitted, her face on fire, "or three."

  "Ah, now, I can see it well. You’ll be teaching the girls how to ride like wild hoydens, how to hunt and swim—"

  "And the boys how to shoot a bow as well as their father."

  "Aye, woman, all that and much more. Do you think I would ever take those things from you?" He kissed her so gently that Triona went limp beneath him, delicious tremors radiating all the way to her toes. But when Ronan looked again into her eyes, his expression was somber. "There would be no raiding, is all. And I wouldn’t be worrying at every turn for your safety—"