“Lady, the O’Byrne sent me running to tell you Niall rides across the glen.”
“Niall?” Maire hastened as well as she could to reach Triona, who held out her hand, her voice filled with as much scolding as excitement.
“It’s time enough he came home to us! Come, Maire, I’ll help you.”
Together they stepped outside Ronan and Triona’s dwelling-house to find other clansmen running toward the gates, wives and laughing children. Maire felt such overwhelming relief she couldn’t help being caught up in the excitement, and she found herself smiling too.
All three massive sets of gates guarding the stronghold had been thrown open to welcome Niall. Maire was out of breath and her legs aching from hurrying by the time she and Triona reached the second. A large cluster of clansmen stood at the outer gate, and Maire could see Ronan’s dark head at the front of them all, where he no doubt waited to greet Niall as much as heatedly demand where he’d been.
Yet her brothers were so close, aye, they would resolve any differences between them, Maire was certain. And mayhap one day Ronan would find it within his heart to forgive her. She knew his anger stemmed from love—
“Something’s not right. Aye, everyone’s grown too quiet.”
Maire glanced in alarm at Triona, but it was the way her clansmen were suddenly looking at her, their expressions grave as they parted to let them pass, that made Maire’s heart pound.
At the sight of Ronan’s black scowl, she felt Triona squeeze her hand tightly even as Maire looked past her eldest brother to the rider who approached the stronghold.
He was alone, no knights, no men-at-arms surrounding him, his shirt of mail glinting in the sun.
Jesu, Mary, and Joseph … not Niall, but Duncan—
“Stand your ground, Norman, come no closer!”
Ronan’s roar shattering the charged silence, Maire felt as if her knees were giving way when Duncan ignored the command and rode even closer, though he’d slowed his great bay stallion to a walk, his eyes intent upon her as much as Ronan.
“By God, FitzWilliam, I know why you’ve come, and you will not have her!”
“The choice is not yours, O’Byrne, but Maire’s alone,” came a voice as fiercely resolute as Ronan’s. “If she wishes it, I will make her my bride and none will dare speak against it. King John has sanctioned our marriage—I’ve only just returned from England to ask his favor—”
“I care nothing for your accursed king or his favor! Leave now, or you’ll die here.”
Stricken by Ronan’s ominous words, Maire saw a flushed-faced clansman then, pushing his way through the silent crowd bearing Ronan’s sword.
“Triona … no.” Her voice no more than a whisper, Maire glanced at her ashen-faced sister-in-law and then back to Duncan to see that he had dismounted and stood with his sword in hand.
“I have not come to fight you, O’Byrne, I owe you my life. I want only to speak with Maire. But if you raise your weapon against me—”
“I do raise it.”
Ronan grabbed his sword and lunged away from them to attack even as Triona hoarsely shouted his name, but he gave no heed to her or that Deirdre had begun to cry. Like a clash of titans, Maire watched in horror as Duncan’s heavier weapon met Ronan’s blow, metal against metal ringing across the glen, the terrible meeting she’d so feared finally come to pass.
She could see at how Duncan fended off a second blow that he meant only to defend himself, yet Ronan clearly intended to kill him. Within an instant, Duncan was made to fight in earnest, too. Maire felt her heart stop when Ronan barely dodged a blow that would have severed his arm, only to lunge at Duncan so violently that she could not still her desperate scream.
“Ronan, no more. I will tell him to go! I will tell him to go!”
Tears blinding her, she tried to move toward them only to find herself pulled back by the hand and Deirdre thrust suddenly into her arms. It was Triona who ran to Ronan, her cry as angry as anguished.
“Damn you, O’Byrne, I’ll not have our son born to this world without a father! Do you hear me? And Maire’s babe deserves a father as well—damn the both of you to break the hearts of the women who love you!”
Triona reached Ronan even as he turned around, his sword fallen to his side while Duncan, his sword lowered too, stared at Maire, his chest heaving from exertion, sweat dripping down his face. She hugged Deirdre close, the frightened child still wailing, and went to him. Duncan’s gaze was so intent upon her she scarcely realized when Triona eased Deirdre from her arms. God help her, to see him again, to know he lived! Desperate to throw her arms around him, she still didn’t dare, not certain of what Ronan might do.
“You bear … you bear a babe?”
His voice was labored and she saw, too, from his grimace how it pained him to draw breath, Maire knowing then just how grave his wound must have been. She wanted nothing more than to tell him she carried his child, their child, but she could only shake her head.
“I wished it to be so, Duncan—”
“By God, woman, what ruse is this?”
Ronan’s face was truly thunderous, but Maire saw that Triona held her ground, even lifting her chin a stubborn notch at her husband while she cradled Deirdre in her arms.
“How else was I to make you stop this madness? You’ve been so angry these past weeks, at Maire, at everyone, I didn’t know if my news would be enough …”
Triona couldn’t finish, her voice breaking, something Maire had rarely heard from her brazen sister-in-law. Ronan cursed under his breath, some of the tension in his shoulders clearly ebbing. He enfolded Triona and his daughter in his arms, though the dark glance he threw at Duncan told Maire the danger was far from past. His voice was harsh when he turned his gaze upon her.
“Tell him to go, as you said.”
Maire heard the pain there, too, stabbing her, but she moved closer to Duncan and took his hand, her heart soaring when he enmeshed his fingers with hers. “I cannot, Ronan, I love him. I wish for nothing more than to be his wife.”
“Then go, damn you! But know if you leave with this Norman, you’ll be forever dead to us—”
“Ronan, no!”
Maire’s heart went out to Triona as she stared at her husband in disbelief, her eyes filling with tears.
“She’s your sister, Ronan, you can’t pretend she doesn’t live and breathe! I bear Norman blood, Deirdre, the babe in my womb yet you love—you love!”
Maire’s own eyes brimming, she felt Duncan squeeze her hand, and she glanced at him, stunned that Triona’s revelation hadn’t seemed to surprise him. He looked no more than grim, his voice low as he drew her toward his steed.
“There’s no more to be said here. Come.”
A lump growing in her throat, Maire saw it was true. Ronan, his arm still around Triona’s shoulders, shepherded her and Deirdre toward the gate, and their clansmen stepped aside for them, every familiar face as somber, every O’Byrne as silent.
It was all so terrible, but Maire knew she would alter nothing. She could not. Her life and love were bound together with Duncan. There was no other choice to be made.
His hands were strong and sure as he lifted her onto the saddle, his handsome face so dear, so dear. He joined her then, mounting behind her, his arms going round her to hold her close, and Maire felt her heart soar again.
If not that Ronan’s back was still turned to her, though Triona faced her now, Maire couldn’t have imagined a more wondrous moment. And Niall, poor Niall. Would she ever see him again? She could only hope that one day he would see how happy she was, his wish for her finally come true.
“Do you know how much I love you, Maire O’Byrne?”
She nodded at Duncan’s fervent whisper against her ear—aye, she knew, she knew! He kicked his stallion into a walk to give her time to glance again at her family, and her eyes met Triona’s as they moved away, truly the dearest friend she’d ever known. Maire wiped at the wetness on her face, but more came as she thought of
everything Triona had done for her.
“She’s a brave one, your brother’s wife. I heard the story of her true family from King John—he remembers Ronan and Triona still, and not so fondly. I feared then he would refuse our marriage.”
“But he did not? Truly?”
Duncan drew her closer, warming Maire even as he whispered huskily in her ear. “He did not. Truly. When I told him I would relinquish my barony to wed you, anything to have you, he thought it better for us to wed and produce as many children as we could to thin the rebel blood—”
“That’s what Adele said of you—why she wanted you to have a Norman wife …”Maire didn’t finish when she felt Duncan tense and suddenly she felt uneasy, too, just thinking of his half sister.
“She’s gone, you know. Back to England. She’ll not hurt you from the tower where King John sent her—and my half brothers and their vassals have been forbidden ever to set foot in Ireland or they’ll join her there.”
Duncan hugged her tightly, so tightly Maire had never felt more safe, or more grateful to a Norman king. Almost to a rocky slope now which led from Glenmalure, she felt a lump rising once more when Duncan stopped their mount so she might gaze a last time upon the O’Byrne stronghold, the only home she’d ever known.
Her breath caught, glad tears filling her eyes.
Ronan stood watching them with Triona, his back no longer turned. And she could see Triona within her husband’s embrace smiling too, which told Maire much—Ronan had granted her the only blessing that he could. She knew then he had forgiven her.
As Duncan pressed a fervent kiss to her brow, truly, she had never imagined a more wondrous moment.
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:
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 [email protected].
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