Wild Angel
Page 35
"You’re aware, young woman, that you now are the heiress to one of my richest fiefs?"
"Aye."
"Then you can understand if I say you will lose all rights to the land if you marry this man. I’ll not have an Irish rebel as lord of Naas."
"Aye, I understand, so you might as well find some other de Roche to take it off my hands." That said, Triona couldn’t hold herself back any longer. She ran to Ronan and flung her arms around his neck. "I’d trade all of Eire to become the bride of Black O’Byrne," she announced for everyone to hear, smiling into Ronan’s eyes as he embraced her. "My only regret is that I can’t give back to him the lands which are rightfully his."
"Enough!" King John shouted, outraged by Triona’s defiance. "Take these rebels from Dublin at once, Donal MacMurrough, or I promise I’ll hang them all!"
The chieftain hastened over to them, saying in a low firm voice, "I suggest you mount your horses." But when Ronan began to veer Triona toward his stallion, she balked, pursing her lips to give a sharp whistle. Immediately she heard an answering whinny, courtiers scurrying out of the way as Laeg came galloping to her side.
"Aye, Laeg, we’ll soon be gone from this foul place," she murmured, her heart doing a flip-flop when Ronan’s strong hands went around her waist to give her a boost onto her horse’s back. "Your arm must not be hurting you too badly if you can lift me with such ease," she teased him as he mounted, the heat in his eyes assuring her that he was hardly maimed. Growing flushed, she sobered as she looked out across the yard.
"What is it, Triona?"
"My bowcase." Spying the leather sheath clutched in a tall knight’s hand, she spouted, "He has it, there! And I’ll not be leaving without it."
"Give her the damned thing!" King John commanded, the man nearly stumbling over his long legs in his rush to obey.
"My thanks, sire," she said sincerely as she shouldered her bowcase, the familiar weight a comfort. Yet she couldn’t resist adding, "I hope swift winds carry you soon and safely across the water . . . and far, far away from Eire."
"Triona . . ." Ronan murmured with a warning frown as Donal MacMurrough bowed his head to his king, then led their huge party back through the gates. But once outside the castle grounds Ronan smiled, the warm teasing look Triona so loved back in his eyes. "Did anyone ever tell you that for an angel, you’ve got a bit of the devil in you, too?"
She snorted. "Devil? I gave the man a good Irish blessing, is all." Triona laughed as Ronan shook his head, Caitlin soon falling back from her father’s side to join them as they rode through the bustling city. But they still had a good way to go when Ronan suddenly pulled up on the reins and called for a halt.
"Don’t tell me Triona forgot something back at the castle," Donal said with tight-lipped exasperation.
"Not at all," Ronan reassured him, dismounting. He gestured to the stone church they’d just passed. "It’s time your niece and I were wed."
"Here? In Dublin?" Triona blurted, her emerald eyes grown wide.
"Why not? I’m sure the priest knows the right words just the same as those in Glendalough."
"But Aud isn’t here, Ronan," she began.
"Aud will understand," he said firmly, reaching up for her. "Now come."
Still Triona hesitated, the stubborn set of her chin leading Ronan to wonder what she was going to demand of him next. He had a good inkling when she glanced first at Caitlin, then at Donal, and finally back to him again, soft pleading in her eyes.
"I know it might be hard for you, Ronan, but I’m asking you here and now to make peace with the clan MacMurrough. Not just a truce for a day but lasting—"
"Done."
She gaped at him, clearly astonished. "Truly?"
Ronan nodded, the deep gratitude he felt toward the MacMurrough chieftain far outweighing any of the hatred that had gone before. Without his aid, he might never have gotten into the city to find Triona, and that to him was worth any price.
"On behalf of the O’Byrnes of Glenmalure, I offer peace." Ronan somberly met Donal’s eyes. "I hope that the MacMurroughs will accept—"
"I accept," the chieftain stated, his expression just as solemn though there was a hint of humor in his eyes. "Now if you’ll kindly make this willful niece of mine an honest woman, I’d be a happy man. And quickly, Ronan, before King John changes his mind."
Their wedding was probably the briefest on record in that lofty church, considering the long weeks it had taken Ronan to get Triona to say her vows. A priest’s blessing, a fervent kiss, then they were mounting their horses again. No more than a few moments later they had left the city, MacMurroughs and O’Byrnes riding south together in the waning afternoon sun until the time finally came for the two clans to go their separate ways.
It was an awkward parting but heartfelt, hope that all would continue to be well between them on everyone’s mind. Especially Caitlin’s, whose eyes were brimming with tears as she brought her steed close to Triona’s to give her a hug.
"Will we see each other?" the young woman asked brokenly, Triona giving her a reassuring wink.
"Aye, I’m sure of it."
Then, with an embarrassed laugh, Caitlin began to dismount until Triona stopped her.
"But this is Niall’s horse."
"Exactly, cousin." Triona glanced at Ronan and her uncle, pleased at least to see that the two men weren’t frowning. She leaned forward and whispered in Caitlin’s ear. "Niall can’t fail to come to visit if he wants to get his horse back, now can he?"
Caitlin’s brilliant smile was a fine thing to see, Triona wondering to herself how long it might be before her pretty blond cousin would be joining them in Glenmalure. Not too long if she had anything to say about it. And, of course, there was Maire who so wanted a husband . . .
"Playing the matchmaker again?"
She started, meeting Ronan’s eyes as the MacMurroughs rode away. "You object?"
"Would it matter if I did?"
She could hear that he was teasing, but he looked serious all the same. "Of course it would, husband. I wouldn’t want to do anything to displease you. Don’t forget I just promised to love and obey, though . . ."
"Though what, Triona O’Toole?"
"Triona O’Byrne, you mean."
He chuckled, his slate gray eyes taking on a most lusty cast. "Aye, so it is now."
"Well," she continued, growing quite flustered and a bit embarrassed, too, that her O’Byrne clansmen were all glancing sideways at each other behind them. "I don’t expect to have any trouble at all with the first one, but the second—"
"I’ll settle for love, woman. That’s enough for me." Ronan reached out suddenly and grabbed her to him, kissing her so soundly that Triona nearly lost her balance and fell from her horse. But at his next words, she wondered if he’d done so on purpose just to give him unfair advantage.
"How about a race back to Glenmalure? And let’s say whoever wins can console the loser—"
"Ha! You’ll not be consoling me!" she cried, kicking Laeg into a gallop. "You know I’ll beat you, Ronan O’Byrne!"
"I dare you to try, woman!" he called after her, their laughter ringing out as they rode headlong into the wild Wicklow hills.
About the Author
Miriam Minger is the award-winning, critically acclaimed author of ten historical romances. She also writes inspirational romantic thrillers as M.C. Walker, and is the co-author of the popular Little Mike and Maddie series of children’s picture books about a lovable pair of dogs and their motorcycle adventures.
Historical Romances by Miriam Minger:
Twin Passions
Stolen Splendor
A Hint of Rapture
Captive Rose
Defiant Impostor
The Pagan’s Prize
Wild Angel
Secrets of Midnight
My Runaway Heart (sequel to Secrets of Midnight)
Wild Roses (sequel to Wild Angel)
Inspirational Romantic Thrillers by M.C. Walker:
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Blood Son
Children’s Picture Books by Miriam Aronson:
Little Mike and Maddie’s First Motorcycle Ride
Little Mike and Maddie’s Black Hills Adventure
Little Mike and Maddie’s Christmas Book
For information about the above titles, visit www.walkerpublishing.net or write to info@walkerpublishing.net.