The Irish Devil

by Donna Fletcher

  Bridget’s tongue was soon chattering away. “I have been told that Lord Eric specifically had these quarters built for his bride. His chambers are beyond that door.” She nodded toward a closed door on the opposite wall from where she worked. “The servants I have met thus far have told me he wished for his wife to have her privacy, but I think he also wished for his own.”

  “Why?” Faith asked innocently.

  Bridget’s round cheeks flushed and she scolded herself. “Me and my loose tongue.”

  Faith smiled. “I count on you and your tongue. Tell me.”

  Bridget was about to speak when a knock sounded. She admitted the servant who carried a silver tray laden with a variety of refreshments, meats, cheeses, fish, fruits, pies and pitchers filled with ale, wine and one with hot water.

  Bridget dismissed the servant with a generous smile and an appreciative word and then saw to serving her mistress.

  “I had hot water sent up, knowing you would want to brew your herbs.”

  Faith sighed. “You will spoil me.”

  “Gladly,” Bridget said with a wide smile.

  “But tell me of what you spoke,” Faith urged, taking dried, crushed leaves from the pouch that hung from her belt and dropping three pinches into the hot water.

  Bridget seemed uncomfortable with her request.

  “Please, Bridget, I would like to know.”

  Bridget accommodated her, though with a bit of reluctance. “Not all keeps have separate chambers for the wife. Lord Eric saw to it that his wife would have her own quarters.”

  Faith laughed, realizing Eric’s intentions. “And assuring his privacy from a woman toward whom he was uncertain how he would feel.”

  Bridget nodded and after making certain her mistress was settled comfortably at the table and her needs met, she returned to tending to Faith’s garments.

  Faith nibbled at the small chunk of dark bread she held in her hand. Eric had planned on a wife who would fit his needs; whether or not he desired her would not matter. How disappointing for him to find a wife he desired only to discover he had been deceived.

  Another knock on the door caught the attention of both women and Bridget immediately responded to the summons.

  Colin stood in the doorway. Bridget stepped aside, admitting him.

  “Lord Eric requests your presence in his solar within the hour.”

  Faith was about to agree when instead she shook her head. “I cannot possibly accommodate his request. I have yet to eat and bathe. I will not be ready for at least three hours.”

  Bridget looked upon her mistress with as much surprise as Colin.

  The man appeared stunned speechless and it was several minutes before he responded. “I will inform Lord Eric of your delay.”

  “Thank you, Colin,” Faith said with a pleasant smile.

  He turned to leave when Faith asked, “I have not had a chance to see to Borg’s care. Has he been settled in his quarters?”

  Bridget looked anxiously to Colin as he spoke.

  “He is resting comfortably and has asked when you will come to see him.”

  “After I speak with Lord Eric, I think will be a good time. Then I will see to settling him comfortably for the night. Bridget will see to attending to him for the evening meal.”

  The young girl’s face brightened considerably.

  Colin nodded. “I will tell Borg. He will be pleased.”

  Bridget hesitantly spoke after closing the door on a departing Colin.

  “You do not fear the devil, my lady?”

  Faith shook her head slowly. “I would be a fool not to fear the devil.”

  o0o

  With her stomach full and a soothing bath, Faith was prepared to face the devil head-on, or at least she assumed she was. She had not counted on the fact that the extra time she had given herself, she also had given the devil.

  A servant directed her to Eric’s solar, one floor down from the bedchambers. She gave a gentle knock and his deep voice bid her enter. She was beginning to realize that Eric had spared no cost in constructing and furnishing his home. The solar was large and suited to fit a man’s needs. Several thick wooden chairs and two tables filled the generous space, and iron candle stands like those in her room brightened the quarters as did the fire in the hearth. The tapestries that graced the walls were rich in beauty and tales depicting victorious battle scenes.

  Her eyes finally came to rest on her husband and her breath caught briefly in her throat. He resembled the handsome lord of darkness.

  He was freshly bathed and freshly shaven. His long, dark hair shined in silky splendor and rested over his wide shoulders. His garments were of dark red coloring, to the point that they appeared almost black though the touch of deep red gave the material a hint of color. He stood near the hearth, burning with dancing flames that warded off an evening chill that had crept through the keep.

  His stance was relaxed and confident and his expression stern until his eyes met with her. He apparently was surprised at her appearance, but then so was she. Bridget had insisted on fussing over her tonight. She had adamantly insisted that Faith look her best and saw to it that she did.

  To Faith, Bridget had worked miracles. She wore a pale yellow shift with an equally pale yellow tunic and the plain garments highlighted her fiery red hair. And there is where Bridget had worked her best miracle. She had fashioned it in a way that most of the temperamental curls appeared drawn up and away from her face while several irate strands fell around her face and down her neck, framing her beautiful face and of course hiding her scar.

  If Faith ever felt beautiful, she did tonight.

  Eric moved away from the huge stone hearth toward the table that held several flasks and trays of food.

  “May I offer you anything?”

  “No, thank you,” Faith said softly. “Your servants have more than adequately provided for me.”

  “You are not disappointed in my home?” He did not know why he asked her or why he even sought her acceptance, but he could not rescind his words, so he waited for her answer.

  “It is more than I expected and I am more than pleased. I am honored to be here.”

  Her sincere words touched his heart and he could not take his eyes from her. She was simply stunning, more beautiful than ever, if that were possible. The raging red of her hair was a perfect color against the soft paleness of her face. Her dark brown eyes startled, her rosy lips invited kisses and her body waited, waited for his personal touch.

  “I hear that Borg does well,” he said, knowing a change of subject was wise.

  “Yes, I go to see him after we speak.”

  “I visited with him only moments ago and he looks forward to seeing you.”

  She smiled. “As I do him.”

  His expression turned serious. “First we have a matter to discuss.”

  She had wondered over his summons; now she would find out.

  Eric had thought about this meeting with his wife since he had decided upon it when he had been on the battlements. He intended for her to answer his questions fully and honestly so that he could make a wise and reasonable judgment. He would settle for nothing less and this she would know.

  He walked back to stand near the hearth, still not having offered her a seat and not intending to. “I have been lenient with you since discovering your deceit.”

  Faith was fast to defend herself. She had expected this confrontation, actually had hoped for it, and now that it was upon her she intended to defend her honor. “I did not deceive you.”

  “You kept the truth from me.”

  “What truth? That I suffered an attack and survived? Does the scar I carry bother you? I thought it would not, since being a warrior you yourself must carry many reminders of your battles and be proud.”

  “I am a man.”

  “And I a woman who defended herself. Was that wrong of me?”

  He had not expected to be put on the defensive. He had expected her to quiver, shake and relent
to his commands. She was not at all cooperating and yet he found her courage admirable and her defiance challenging.

  “A woman has a right to defend herself,” he agreed. “But she also has the duty of informing her husband of the truth.”

  Faith needed no time to respond… she was quick with her words. “But should not the husband know his wife well enough to know the truth without asking?”

  He thought over her remark. Her question suggested more than she spoke.

  “Perhaps the husband needs to hear the words.”

  “Perhaps the wife feels it unnecessary.”

  “Enough,” Eric shouted annoyed they were getting nowhere and wanting this settled and wanting his wife in his bed. “Enough word games. You will answer me. Are you a virgin?”

  Faith stuck her chin up and clamped her inviting, rosy lips shut.

  “You will suffer for your silence,” he said and immediately regretted his rash words.

  For a moment she looked stricken by his threat and then her eyes glowed defensively and her chin inched up even further.

  “You are stubborn,” he shouted.

  Her chin inched up again.

  “And foolish!”

  Just as she was about to jut her chin out further, he growled like an angry animal, marched over to her, grabbed the back of her neck and yanked her toward him, his mouth clamping down on hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  Eric fed on her like a man too long denied. He simply could not get enough of her. She was like an intoxicant that once sampled was impossible to ignore. His mouth bruised hers with an urgency that frightened him and it wasn’t until his rational side interrupted his passion that he released her and abruptly turned away.

  He kept his back to her, attempting to control his lusty appetite, calm his ragged breathing and understand his unrelenting desire for her.

  Faith took several steps back and rested her hand on the back of a chair. Several silent moments passed for which she was grateful, needing time to gather her wit about her. She had not been prepared for the intensity of his kiss or the shockingly demanding way he took it. And she had not been prepared for her own surprising response to him. Her body instantly sparked to life and whatever he would have demanded of her she would have willingly given him.

  She supposed that was why she felt such an overwhelming sense of disappointment. He had initiated the startling kiss and yet he had failed to follow through. How perfectly rude of him. She planned on telling him just that if he continued such uncivil behavior.

  She almost gasped at her own audacity and took a deep, calming breath to still her tumultuous emotions. Whatever was she thinking? She actually wanted her husband to ravish her!

  Faith smiled a shy, hesitant smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared. And with it went her girlish fantasies. Her husband was the infamous Irish devil; did she really think this man cared for her? He was a man who lusted for the wife he had assumed would perform her wifely duties without difficulty. He had not bargained for a wife with a tarnished past.

  He delivered his words with a cold fury that sent endless shivers racing through her. “I will contact your father.”

  She expected nothing less, though she had hoped. No, she had prayed that perhaps he had grown to understand her nature and then he would not find it necessary to ask her if she was a virgin. He would know.

  Foolish.

  Perhaps she was foolish. Foolish for dreaming, wishing, hoping that someone would accept and love her for who she was. After all, she foolishly accepted him for who he was, the infamous devil, and she would find it no great chore to love the devil himself.

  Foolish.

  Yes, she certainly was that.

  Faith turned and without speaking a word she walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

  Eric slammed his fist on a nearby table, sending flasks and goblets tumbling. He was furious. Furious that he had insinuated that she may be returned to her family. He no more wanted her gone than he wanted to lose his own limb.

  “Stubborn and foolish,” he shouted to the empty room.

  “It is always good to admit one’s faults.”

  Eric swung around to send Colin a scathing look.

  Colin grinned and raised his hands in mock defense as he entered the room. “I am not the enemy.”

  Eric reached for a fallen goblet, filled it with ale and handed it to Colin. “I but wish I knew who the enemy was; it would make this senseless skirmish more sensible.”

  “Does there need to be an enemy?” Colin asked and walked over to sit in a chair near the hearth.

  Eric filled another goblet and joined his friend, taking a seat in the larger wooden chair covered with a thick, beautifully stitched tapestry. “Where there is deceit, there is an enemy.”

  “Who is being deceitful?”

  Eric sighed and rested his head back. “That is what I am trying to determine, but my wife refuses to cooperate.”

  “Perhaps she was warned not to.”

  “I gave that option thought and while she was at Donnegan keep I could understand her succumbing to threats. But once we left?” He shook his head. “What was there for her to fear?”

  “Discovery.”

  Eric sat forward. “The question, my friend, is discovery of what? If she truly has nothing to hide, why not just speak the truth and be done with it?”

  “Would you believe her?” Colin asked.

  “The length and severity of the scar would put doubt in anyone’s mind.”

  “Not in Bridget’s or Borg’s minds.”

  Eric sank back in the chair. “So I have heard. Borg talked endlessly of my wife’s many virtues. Until finally I suggested that since he knew her so well he could answer my haunting question.”

  “Which is?”

  “Is Faith a virgin?”

  “How did Borg answer?” Colin asked.

  “Without hesitation he told me that she certainly was a virgin and that I better see that I take her virginity with as little pain as possible, or I will answer to him.”

  Colin laughed. “He has a soft spot for your wife and a hard spot for Bridget.”

  Eric laughed along with him. “Have you ever seen a man blush as much as he does when that servant girl is around? It is damn embarrassing.”

  “I think it is funny. The man is simply besotted and I wonder how he is going to get the nerve up to kiss her.”

  “My coin is on Borg,” Eric challenged.

  Colin shook his head. “I will grow wealthy with all this foolishness. Mine is on the servant girl.”

  “You will grow poor, my friend,” Eric argued with a smile and stood to walk over to the table and retrieve the pitcher of ale. He filled Colin’s lifted goblet and then his own.

  “Then if I am to be a poor man let us enjoy this night,” Colin said and raised his goblet in a toast. “To a night of good drink and good women.”

  Eric’s goblet did not move.

  Colin looked questioningly at him. “I have two willing servant women waiting to pleasure us. What say you?”

  Eric dropped in the chair and let out an exasperated sigh. “I say nay. Too much clouds my mind.”

  Colin tempered the smile that tempted his lips, downed his ale and stood. “Then I have no choice but to please the both of them. If you change your mind, we will be in my quarters.”

  Eric waved him off and stared at the ale in his goblet. He ached for his wife, not just any woman, but his wife. He wanted to taste those rosy lips, strip her bare and lose himself within her. He had never wanted a woman with as much passion as he wanted Faith, and it frightened him. He did not understand it, or perhaps he did and perhaps he did not like the knowledge he had discovered; or perhaps he was not yet ready to accept it.

  He downed the ale and refilled his goblet yet again. He would drown his sorrows tonight . . . and tomorrow?

  Tomorrow he would send a letter to her father.

  o0o

  Faith made her way slo
wly to Borg’s quarters. They were two floors down and while she wanted to see him, she also needed time to regain her composure. Her meeting with Eric had upset her and she was attempting to deal with the knowledge that he might very well return her to her father.

  An option she was not ready to accept.

  She did not wish to return to Donnegan keep. Her life there had been limited and lonely. Here there was a chance for happiness. Could she make it work?

  She found herself at the door to Borg’s quarters much sooner than she had anticipated and she entered, pushing her nagging thoughts aside, eager to see her patient.

  Borg lay in a massive bed, his head and back resting against a mountain of pillows so that he looked to be sitting, though he was actually stretched out quite comfortably. A white linen sheet covered him to his waist and he looked freshly bathed and shaved.

  “I have been wondering when you would come,” Borg said with a generous smile as she approached him.

  “I had matters to see to,” she said and immediately moved to his side to check the bandage that covered his wound.

  “Bridget saw to changing it. The wound heals remarkably well. It has almost crusted closed and the redness has all but vanished. You are a good healer.”

  Faith drew a chair near the bed to sit and talk with him.

  “Thank you, but you helped by following to my instructions.”

  “I had no choice.” He laughed. “I was threatened by Eric, Colin and Bridget that I was to do as you directed or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  Borg shook his head. “I decided not to find out. They were all too intimidating.”

  Faith could not imagine a man the size of Borg being intimidated. “You feel well, no pain?”

  “None I cannot bare, but tell me what you think of Shanekill Keep.”

  Faith glanced around the large room. “I am surprised at the size of the rooms in the keep. They are so large, and furnished to meet one’s every need.”

  “Eric has spared no expense in its building. He wanted the best in all he brought to his home.”

  Faith glanced away, unable to meet his eyes.