Warrior of Ice

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘And I have something you want.’ He gripped Taryn’s hair roughly, forcing her to her knees. ‘Give yourself over as my hostage, and I might let her go.’

  Killian didn’t move at first. It was entirely possible that the soldier would kill Taryn the moment he dropped his weapons. He shifted his gaze towards Devlin and asked, ‘Are you planning to abandon your daughter, after all she did for you? Or will you fight and help me save her?’

  Taryn was struggling against the man’s grip, but to no avail. And although Killian knew he could win this battle, the risk was grave. He had to move swiftly and shield her from harm.

  But it seemed that Devlin had no intention of helping him. Likely the man had intended to escape in the midst of the battle, while the Normans tried to overthrow the Ard-Righ. Instead, the High King’s men had driven them back.

  Killian heard the shouts of the King’s men, and a split second later, an arrow struck the ground beside him. Son of Lugh, but he hadn’t seen the archers. He froze and glanced behind him. Half a dozen of the High King’s men had their bows drawn, aimed at the Norman soldiers surrounding Taryn.

  If they loosed an arrow, they might strike her instead. But from the grim look upon the soldiers’ faces, he realised that it didn’t matter to them. They saw Taryn as a traitor and a threat.

  ‘Don’t shoot!’ Killian ordered.

  But it was too late. He ran to Taryn, intending to shield her from the arrows with his own body...but Devlin reached her first. Time stilled when Killian saw the first arrow pierce her skin. Blood flowed from the wound, and she slumped forward to the ground.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The hoarse battle cry that ripped from his throat was born of grief and fury. Killian gripped his sword, giving himself over to the madness. Inside, he was hollow, unable to believe what he was seeing. The woman who had given herself freely, breathing life into his frozen heart, was lying on the ground. Her black hair shielded her face, and he knew not if her heart was still beating.

  A thousand emotions tore through him—fury that she’d been harmed, guilt that he hadn’t saved her in time...and heart-stopping fear. She had given herself to him, teaching him what it meant to love. He had never known what it was to need someone, to feel as if she made up the other half of his tortured soul. With Taryn, he was a whole man, someone of worth.

  And Fate taunted him with the knowledge that he’d been unable to save her.

  Sprawled across her was the body of Devlin, covered in arrows. Her father had given himself over to shield her, but Killian could not tell if the man’s sacrifice had held any worth.

  He moved Devlin off Taryn and saw that her complexion was snow white. Blood had soaked the bodice of her gown. Killian pulled her into his lap and examined the arrow wound. Thank the gods, the arrow had pierced her shoulder. It did not seem life-threatening in any way, and he was able to breathe again.

  A low moan sounded from her, and Killian murmured, ‘It’s all right, a chroí. I have you now. You’re safe.’

  * * *

  Darkness enveloped her, and Taryn smelled the metallic tang of blood mingled with Killian’s scent. Her shoulder burned with a vicious pain, but she thought she heard her father’s voice.

  ‘Taryn, forgive me,’ he whispered in a hoarse voice. ‘For I cannot forgive myself. I never should have set the dogs on you.’

  Anguish welled up inside her, for she hadn’t wanted it to be true. She’d wanted to believe that her father was a noble man, incapable of such horror. Instead, he was the man her mother had said he was.

  Taryn couldn’t speak, and she struggled to open her eyes. Killian held her in his embrace while her father lay on the ground beside her. At least a dozen arrows had pierced him, and she had no doubt that he was going to die. Every breath was a struggle, and she realised that the blood upon her hands was his.

  Dear God.

  Her father had thrown himself in front of her, taking the arrows that would have killed her. Grief swelled up within her at the knowledge that, in spite of what he had done to her, he had loved her enough to sacrifice himself.

  Her mother, Maeve, stood nearby, her hands covering her mouth. At the sight of her, Taryn saw a woman who had let her hatred and bitterness consume her over the years. Devlin’s thoughtless act had scarred her mother, just as surely as Taryn bore the physical evidence of her father’s rage.

  She had every right to turn her back on Devlin, hating him for the way he had caused her disfigurement. But what good would that do? Nothing could change the past.

  Weariness slid over her, and she decided that she would not take the path Maeve had chosen. Instead, she looked over at her father and granted absolution. ‘I forgive you,’ she murmured.

  He was coughing hard, and his gaze drifted to something behind her. Taryn turned and saw her mother approaching. Maeve walked slowly towards them, her hands gripped together.

  ‘I let my ambitions lead me,’ her father whispered. ‘I wanted a greater position in Éireann. But all of that is lost to me now.’ Lifting his gaze to Maeve, he added in the faintest voice, ‘I am sorry. Not only for endangering Ossoria, but for what I did to our daughter.’

  Her mother didn’t speak, but closed the distance and knelt beside her husband. While there might not be forgiveness between them, there was peace. ‘You saved her life today, Devlin. It is enough for me.’

  Taryn fought to remain conscious, though a rushing noise filled her ears.

  ‘I do love you, Taryn,’ Devlin said, his voice growing fainter. ‘And you are beautiful to me. Now and always.’

  He gave a last shuddering breath, and she saw the moment the life faded from his eyes. She wept for the loss, but in his death, there was redemption. In the end, she chose to remember the man who had tried to make up for his sins—not the one who had made a terrible mistake.

  Killian held her close while she grieved, and she took comfort in his embrace. In his arms, she felt safe and beloved. Gently, he lifted her to stand, but she faced her mother. ‘I know you were only trying to protect me.’

  Maeve nodded, her eyes filled with tears. ‘You are, and always have been, my beloved daughter.’

  With her uninjured arm, Taryn reached out to her mother and squeezed her hand. Then she walked back with Killian, leaning against him. Her mind was tangled with uncertain emotion, regret and sorrow foremost. But despite what had happened this day, she took strength from Killian. His expression was rigid, though he remained gentle in guiding her towards his chamber.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’ He stopped a moment, reaching out to the blood-soaked wound. ‘You were hurt this day, and I blame myself for it.’

  Behind his stony expression, she saw overwhelming regret and fear. But she knew her wound was not a mortal one. Instead, she reached up to touch his cheek. His hand covered hers, as if he needed her touch upon him. ‘I would give my life for yours, Taryn.’

  ‘I am glad you did not have to,’ she whispered, rising up to kiss him. He took her mouth hard, like a man who needed to convince himself that she was alive. ‘Take me home,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Where?’ he prompted, resting his forehead against hers.

  She managed a weak smile. ‘Home is wherever you are.’

  * * *

  Hours later, Killian stood before the Ard-Righ, awaiting an audience with his father. Taryn was resting, after the healer had helped remove the arrow and had tended her wound. Despite knowing that she would fully recover, he had hated seeing her suffer. Right now, all he wanted to do was take her back to Ossoria to heal. Instead, he had to face the High King’s displeasure.

  ‘You disobeyed my orders,’ Rory said in a stony voice. He reached for a goblet of wine while a servant tended a minor wound upon his arm. ‘You were commanded to kill Devlin Connelly.’

 
‘I disobeyed because there was a greater threat,’ Killian shot back. ‘You would be dead, had I not lifted my blade.’ He took a step forward and crossed his arms. ‘I should think that would prove my loyalty.’

  His words lingered between them like a gauntlet. Rory stared at him for a moment, before a faint smile broke through. ‘Indeed. And for that reason, I will forgive your transgression. The traitor is dead now. But we have not discussed what to do about his daughter.’

  ‘Lady Taryn had nothing to do with Devlin’s actions,’ Killian reassured his father. ‘Already she has sworn her loyalty to you.’

  Rory’s gaze narrowed. ‘She has said so, but I cannot let her return to Ossoria without one of my own men in command there.’

  ‘I will govern Ossoria on your behalf,’ Killian said quietly. Though he suspected his father had been speaking of another ally, he had the man’s attention now.

  ‘Why should you be given a kingdom?’ Rory demanded.

  ‘Because my mother stole my birthright before I was born,’ he answered. ‘I was given the life of a slave, instead of the life I was meant to have.’

  ‘And you think I will simply hand over a kingdom to a son I hardly know?’ The older man looked indignant. ‘Especially after you were involved in my bride’s disappearance?’

  At that, Killian stiffened. He sensed that these questions were yet another test, a means of proving his worth. And yet, he no longer cared.

  He met his father’s gaze and said, ‘I think we both know that Carice was not a suitable bride for you. Not only was she young enough to be your daughter, but she was too sick to be the Queen of Éireann. When I last saw her, she was dying.’ It was not entirely the truth, for his sister had seemed slightly better among the MacEgans. But he would not reveal this to Rory.

  His father’s mouth tightened and he gave a single nod. ‘So be it. Brian Faoilin is still searching for her. If she is alive, we will find her.’ He paused a moment. ‘Is it your wish to return to Carrickmeath? Or would you rather take your rightful place here?’

  My place is with Taryn, he wanted to say. Instead, he answered, ‘I have no ties to Carrickmeath. But I have claimed the Lady Taryn as my own. I intend to wed her, and I will see to it that Ossoria prospers.’

  Rory would have none of it. ‘The Queen and her daughter will remain here as my hostages. I want neither of them to have any claim upon the kingdom.’ He refilled his goblet of wine and continued, ‘Lady Taryn is unworthy of the High King’s son. And although I am not opposed to you governing Ossoria on my behalf, I would prefer that you choose a bride whose allegiance is unquestioned.’

  ‘I do not question her loyalty at all,’ Killian said. ‘And the people will want their lady to remain.’

  ‘If you wish to claim her for your own fuidir, I have no objection,’ the High King said. ‘But the daughter of a traitor will never be a queen.’

  Killian stood his ground. ‘Queen or not, she will be my wife.’

  ‘And if I demand that you leave Tara and deny you as my legitimate son?’ The High King rose from the table, the anger glittering in his eyes.

  ‘I would give up everything for her,’ Killian answered, with no hesitation. The moment he spoke the words, he knew they were true. For this stubborn woman had laid siege to his heart until he could not imagine living without her. He approached his father and asked quietly, ‘Was there no woman you ever loved enough that you would do anything to possess her?’

  Rory’s face transformed into sadness, and he removed the ring that had belonged to Killian’s mother. ‘There was one. And not a day goes by that I do not regret losing her.’

  One month later

  ‘I do not know if this is a wise marriage,’ King Rory said as he stood beside Killian. ‘But I am willing to let you take command of Ossoria.’

  In the past few weeks, Killian had worked alongside his father, learning the politics of Éireann and understanding the different provincial kings. The kingship was like a game of chess, but he was well aware of the threat that lingered.

  Even more startling was the revelation that his sister, Carice, had become involved with one of the Normans. She had slowly recovered from her illness, and for that reason, Killian would be ever grateful. King Rory had agreed to release her from the betrothal arrangement, and she was now free to marry whomever she desired.

  Everyone had gathered for Killian’s wedding, which was to be held at the Tulach-na-Coibche, the hill named for the numerous marriages held there and the bride prices paid. The day had been cooler than usual, holding the threat of snow within the skies.

  Several of the provincial kings had gathered—including the Norman leader Richard de Clare, known as Strongbow, and his wife, Aoife. They had claimed Leinster as their own, and though there was a fragile peace between the Irish and Normans, it would take more time before the power struggles ceased.

  As for himself, Killian was content to reign over Ossoria with Taryn as his bride.

  She walked towards the hillside, wearing a gown of deep blue. Her long black hair was pulled back with ropes of pearls, and a single sapphire rested upon her forehead. This time, she had done nothing to hide her scars.

  Although there were whispers among the children as she walked, their mothers shushed them. Taryn walked proudly with her shoulders held back, and beside her walked two queens—her mother and Queen Isabel of Laochre. Queen Maeve had been disgruntled to learn that they had lied in their earlier claims of marriage, but she’d been mollified at the prospect of a grand wedding.

  Taryn sent Killian a quiet smile, and it was as if her presence brought a warmth within him even greater than the sun. When she reached his side, he noticed that Harold the cat was following in her footsteps, his grey tail twitching as he stalked the train of her gown. Many of the onlookers chuckled at the sight of the animal.

  ‘Harold seems quite taken with you,’ Killian remarked, kissing her lips in greeting. ‘But I won’t be allowing him to marry you.’

  ‘There is only one man I wish to marry,’ she said. ‘And that is you.’

  He took her hand in his, and as the priest began the blessing, he murmured, ‘You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’

  She squeezed his hand in answer, smiling. ‘I love you, Killian.’ Her blue eyes met his, and he leaned in to kiss her deeply.

  ‘As I love you, a chroí.’

  There was amusement in her eyes when she pulled back from the kiss. ‘If you don’t stop kissing me, we’ll never finish our marriage vows. Our guests will grow impatient.’

  He sent her a wicked smile. ‘Then they’ll have to wait, won’t they?’

  * * *

  True to his promise, they did not stay long at their wedding celebration. Taryn barely had a few bites of her marriage feast before her husband took her by the hand. His thumb stroked the sensitive skin of her palm, and she recognised the promise in his grey eyes.

  There would be time to eat later. The look on his face revealed that he was hungry for her instead of food. She sent him a tentative smile, and he led her away from the crowds. Outside, light snowflakes spun upon the wind, coating her eyelashes and nose. By the time they reached Killian’s chamber, her hair was damp.

  He opened the door, and behind them, Taryn spied Harold, the cat, who had followed them up the stairs. The feline nudged at her legs, seeking affection.

  But Killian was adamant. ‘You are not joining us,’ he informed the cat, closing the door in the animal’s face. Taryn laughed when a paw crept beneath the doorway, as if Harold were seeking a way inside.

  She had grown accustomed to the animals that seemed to follow Killian everywhere. Not only the horses and the cat, but even the dogs adored him.

  A sudden scratching sound upon the door revealed that Harold had not given up on his quest to be a part of their wedding night. Taryn star
ted to laugh as Killian undressed her. ‘He doesn’t give up, does he?’

  ‘He wants only to be with you.’ He breathed against her throat as he unlaced her silk gown, lifting it over her head, leaving her clad in a léine. The words flowed over her like another caress, and Killian removed his tunic, standing bare-chested before her.

  Her body was alive and yearning for him, but the room was cool from the window accidentally left open. Taryn walked over to close it, but Killian stalked her, pressing her against the wall. Snowflakes blew into the room, dusting her bare skin.

  He kissed a snowflake above her breasts, and the sudden shock of ice and heat made gooseflesh rise over her skin. Her gasp pleased him, and as several more droplets touched her body, he kissed them away. ‘I’m freezing, Killian,’ she told him, moving to his warm body. ‘Close the windows.’

  But instead, he took a small amount of snow from the ledge and drew it into his palm. It reminded her of boys who scooped up balls of snow, only to throw them at bystanders.

  ‘What are you going to do with that?’ she demanded. From behind her, she seized her own handful of snow.

  He eyed her with interest. ‘Trust me, Taryn.’

  ‘Not when you’re holding a ball of snow.’ Clearly, he intended to place it somewhere upon her skin. But he closed the window and led her back to the bed. He distracted her with his heated kiss, one that relaxed her inhibitions, reminding her of how much she loved his touch. Taryn removed her léine, and her body was warmer now, eager for the joining that would come. She could imagine him sliding into her, making their flesh one.

  He removed his own clothing and laid her back upon the bed, his hard body nestled alongside her. Then he took a small amount of snow and rolled it across one nipple, making her bite back a scream. He followed the frigid snow with his warm mouth, suckling and tempting her. The sensation was so shocking, her fingers dug into his back, her legs twisting with need.

  ‘What are you doing to me?’ she whispered.