Her Knight in Tarnished Armor: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kerrigan Byrne

  Aye, the old priest had much to confess, but not now. Not now!

  Once outside the church Father Gilbert didn’t dare glance toward the river for fear that the Norsemen were almost upon them. Yet Father Edmund’s sharp intake of breath made his blood run cold, telling him that their flight had been noticed.

  With Nora MacTorkil’s ring clutched in his hand, Father Gilbert hoisted his priest’s robe to his knees and ran for dear life toward the stable.

  11

  “May I borrow my bride, Triona? You’ve already had her since morning while I’d like to at last spend some time with her.”

  Niall didn’t receive any answer but a squeal from Deirdre and laughter from Triona and Nora as both women swung the delighted child between them. In truth, he could have stood there in Ronan and Triona’s dwelling-house watching the happy troupe much longer, Nora’s cheeks flushed pink and her smile radiant.

  A smile that upon seeing her again after hours spent apart Niall couldn’t deny had clutched at his heart, astonishing him.

  He had never seen his new wife look lovelier than in her pale yellow gown, her stunning blue eyes alight and her laughter so merry.

  How far she had come in so short a time from the terrified woman he had dragged from the river, but Niall thrust that black thought at once from his mind.

  He didn’t want to think about the discussion he’d just had with Ronan, either, his brother pressing him again about the Norse warrior Sigurd Knutson though Niall had already told him everything he knew.

  Aye, he shared Ronan’s unease that Father Edmund might forswear his oath, but what else could Niall do but continue praying that the old priest held his tongue? All Niall wanted to concern himself with now was that he and Nora were moving forward together, that unhappy past hopefully behind them…which was why he’d come to find her.

  He had a surprise in store for her…a ride from the stronghold to one of his favorite places in Glenmalure. That is, if he could steal Nora’s attention from little Deirdre, who clasped her chubby arms around Nora’s neck.

  Seeing his bride with the beautiful child clutched at his heart too, Niall suddenly overcome with an intense longing for a family, which he’d never felt before.

  How his life had changed, too, in so short a time. Once more he silently vowed to open his heart to his wife who threw him a brilliant smile that stilled his breath.

  Begorra, mayhap he didn’t need to open his heart…but had done so already, Niall thought as Nora hastened toward him with the laughing child in her arms.

  “Oh, Niall, we’ve had such a wonderful time!”

  He smiled back at her, and at once Deirdre reached out to him for a hug. He wrapped both of them in a big embrace, while Triona’s laughter filled the sunny room.

  “I always knew you’d make a fine family man, Niall O’Byrne! Mayhap in nine months or so Deirdre will have another playmate besides the babe I carry! Did you say you wanted to steal Nora away from us for a while?”

  “Aye, if she’ll agree to it,” Niall teased, noting Nora’s deep blush though her eyes shone with happiness. “Will you come for a ride with me, wife?”

  She nodded, but before she could say a word Triona hastened forward to retrieve her wriggling daughter.

  “Go on, the both of you, while there’s plenty of daylight. This wee one needs her nap while I’ve only three days to make sure your wedding feast is the finest we’ve seen in Glenmalure!” Already Triona was heading with Deirdre to the adjoining room, although she called over her shoulder, “You’ve a fitting for your new gowns first thing tomorrow, Nora, don’t forget. Aye, and your trousers!”

  “No, no, I won’t—oh!”

  Niall had swept her into his arms before she could linger another moment and strode with her to the door.

  Nora looked so astonished, which made him grin broadly as he stepped outside with her into the early afternoon sunshine.

  “Sometimes a man must resort to drastic measures to have his wife all to himself, but if you’d rather go back—”

  “Don’t even think of it, Niall O’Byrne!” She grinned at him now, too, and threw her arms around his neck to hug him tightly, which made Niall stride all the faster toward the stable.

  “Oh, Niall, it’s so beautiful here!” Very much aware of his arm around her waist as they stood side by side, Nora gazed with him at the sunlight sparkling upon the surface of the lough.

  It hadn’t been that far of a ride from the O’Byrne stronghold, but she would never have guessed that a mountain lake lay beyond a rise, sheltered by a thick stand of fir trees. She felt awestruck by the bright blue of the water reflecting a cloudless summer sky, but it was the tumultuous roar of a waterfall that fed the lake that took her breath away.

  She had never traveled far from her father’s stronghold in Ostmentown, so she had never before seen anything as magnificent as this glittering jewel of a lough flanked by rugged peaks. Niall had said only that he was taking her to one of his favorite places, and she could see why.

  Smiling, she glanced up at him to find him looking at her now, Niall from his own broad smile clearly pleased by her delight.

  They had left their mount, Niall’s mighty dappled gray stallion, grazing upon grass near the trees and had walked together to the edge of the lough. As Niall turned to face her, Nora felt her heart begin to pound.

  He looked so earnest all of a sudden as he pulled a cloth pouch from his sword belt. She had never before seen him armed other than with his knife, but she understood that was the way of things for an O’Byrne rebel when venturing outside the stronghold. In the bright sunlight he looked so formidable and strong, yet his gaze held tenderness as he dumped something out of the pouch into his hand and held it out to her.

  A delicate gold band with an oval garnet that shone blood red in the sunlight.

  “My mother’s ring…and her mother’s before her. I had no ring to give you when we wed, but now this one is yours.”

  “Niall…” Nora could but breathe his name, she felt so moved as he lifted her left hand and slipped the ring on her fourth finger. Tears clouded her eyes that the band fit her so perfectly.

  The lough one of his favorite places. His mother’s ring. Was it possible he felt a stirring of emotion for her now that hadn’t been there before? Hope soaring in her heart, she lifted her face to him as he bent his head to kiss her.

  Not hungrily as he had done during the night but gently, his lips so warm upon hers, stilling her breath. Would the wondrous turn her life had taken never cease to amaze her?

  Then he was smiling as he pulled her into his arms, and once again his mouth found hers. This time his kiss wasn’t so gentle but achingly possessive…while she felt as if she were melting against him, her hands splayed out upon his powerful chest, his heartbeat so strong and steady beneath her fingers.

  She hadn’t worn such a beautiful ring since the one Kristina had given her—ah, no, why would she think of that now?

  Niall must have sensed her sudden tension for he drew back to study her face.

  “Nora?”

  Tears blinded her again…and she thought wildly of telling him that very moment about her blue sapphire ring and her desperate prayers that it had sunk to the bottom of the River Liffey.

  Niall had seen her arm-rings and jeweled brooch yesterday in their dwelling-house when he had stripped her of everything she wore and then carried her to the bed. She had wanted to tell him then about the ring Kristina had given her and how it was missing.

  Yet she’d feared by even voicing the words, somehow she might invite terrible calamity upon them. After all they had only begun to taste happiness together! So she had forced all such thoughts away when he had begun to kiss her lips, her throat, her breasts—

  “Nora, is it the water? It wasn’t my thought that we would swim…just to come here together.”

  “A-aye, the water,” she lied, feeling terrible in doing so but loathe even more now to tell him the truth. She would not think of her
sister’s ring again! All danger was past…it had to be! “Niall, forgive me, it’s so lovely here…but it’s so soon after the river. Too soon. I-I think we should go.”

  “Begorra, wife, we can’t have such dark memories plaguing our life. Our future.”

  He’d spoken so gently to her, drawing her against him to nuzzle her cheek, her ear, but then he released her and stepped back as his hands went to his sword belt.

  Already the small pouch that had carried his mother’s ring lay at his feet, Nora’s eyes widening as his leather sword belt soon followed. The next thing she knew he had pulled his tunic over his head, his magnificent upper torso now bared to her gaze.

  “Niall…what?”

  She realized as soon as he kicked off his boots what he had in mind, a blush burning her face even before he began to pull off his trousers. Then, as naked as God had created him, he stepped from the sloping bank into the shallow water and reached out his hand to her.

  “Come for a swim with me, Nora O’Byrne. We’ll face this demon today and put it forever behind us.”

  Oh, God, she wanted to cry out that there was another demon…a terrible seven-foot-tall demon with a pox-scarred face, cruel eyes, and a broad axe that could cleave a man in two who might still threaten their happiness. She had no doubt a search had been called for her. Father Edmund might well hold fast to his vow, but if that sapphire ring had slipped from the pouch at the church to prove she had been there—

  “Very well, then, I’ll carry you in myself.”

  “No, Niall, wait!” Nora kicked off her leather slippers and then with trembling fingers, she reached down to grab the hem of her yellow silk gown so she might pull it up over her head. Her hair was so thick that the fabric caught at her chin, covering her face, and she began to struggle until she felt Niall’s strong hands grasp hers.

  Within an instant she was divested of her gown and standing there in her sheer white camise, while he stared into her flushed face, grinning.

  “You really don’t want to swim, do you?”

  He didn’t wait for her answer, but lifted her into his arms and walked with her knee-deep into the lough. Only then did he set her down and swiftly strip the thin camise from her body and toss it onto the bank.

  “Take my hands, Nora. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She obliged him, the water not as cool as she had imagined it might be, mayhap because the day was so sunny and warm.

  As he walked backward into deeper water, his gaze, riveted upon her as he pulled her along with him, made her shiver nonetheless. She had come to know that hungry look in his eyes that told her his thoughts had strayed far from swimming.

  So had her thoughts strayed, too, all else mercifully forgotten as shoulder-deep in the lough now, he drew her against him. Her feet no longer touched the pebbly bottom, but they didn’t need to as Niall spun her around and leaned back to begin swimming with her atop him.

  One heavily muscled arm beneath her breasts, her wet nipples taut and pointed to the sky, while his other arm powerfully moved them through the water.

  “You see, wife? We’re swimming. Nothing to fear.”

  His husky voice did anything but soothe her, and she felt then underneath her bottom that it wasn’t just her nipples that had grown so hard. The deeper water felt colder now, which made her tremble…or mayhap it was that with his every stroke she felt the muscular strength of his body beneath her. She laid her head back against his shoulder and attempted to relax, but how could she?

  Nora gasped. His hand cupped her breast now, his fingernails grazing a sensitive nipple even as he began to swim with her toward shore.

  Not in so leisurely a fashion any longer but with powerful strokes that churned the water around them, and she grew breathless though she hadn’t exerted herself one wee bit.

  As soon as his feet touched bottom, he swept her into his arms and strode with her dripping wet to the grassy bank, where he laid her down and blanketed her body with his own.

  She welcomed him with open arms and spread her thighs beneath him, his turgid flesh sinking into her even as she cried out and locked her legs around his hips.

  Her calves against his taut buttocks pressing him deeper with his every thrust.

  His mouth capturing hers as she cried out again, shaking uncontrollably, her climax meeting his with such force that she could not say where his impassioned groans began and hers ended.

  All she knew moments later when he lay so spent atop her, both of them breathing hard, her legs still locked around him, was that she liked swimming with Niall very much indeed.

  That thought made her giggle, which made him laugh, too, as if he’d read her mind. A deep rumbling sound that echoed around the lough as he rolled over with her so that she lay atop him, her long wet hair covering them like a veil.

  “Aye, woman, while it’s warm, I believe we’ll be swimming here a lot. Agreed?”

  He raised his head to kiss her soundly before she could say a word, while Nora cradled his face and kissed him right back, which was answer enough for her.

  12

  “You burned down the church?” Magnus MacTorkil stared in disbelief at the smoldering ruins while Sigurd Knutson swore vehemently and spat with disgust at the ground.

  “A foul crime happened there, MacTorkil! What else could I be expected to do? That damned Father Edmund wed my promised bride to another man!”

  Now Magnus felt like he’d been struck at this unexpected news.

  He had only just dismounted from his lathered horse, having ridden like the devil east of Ostmentown when he’d heard from some of his men that Sigurd was laying waste to the countryside. “Nora is alive?”

  “Aye, she’s alive and run off into the mountains with her husband, Niall O’Byrne!”

  A sudden sharp pain made Magnus clutch at his chest. This astonishing news was too much, too much!

  Struggling to catch his breath, he glanced around him at the grim faces of Sigurd’s men…scores of them. More than Magnus would have ever imagined would cross the sea from Norway to witness a wedding. A whole army of Norsemen!

  But now to learn that Nora was alive and married to an O’Byrne? A second pain gripped him, though not as intense as the first. God help him, he could not make sense of it!

  “Where is Father Edmund?” Magnus rasped, still finding it hard to breathe. “I would speak to him—”

  “Too late.” With his axe, Sigurd indicated a charred corpse near what was once the front door of the church…no, two charred corpses, one larger than the first.

  God in heaven, no, Father Edmund and Father Gilbert?

  Sickened by the sight, aye, and the smell of burned flesh that suddenly assailed his nostrils, Magnus now felt rage rising inside him though he did his best to tamp it down.

  He was a merchant, not a warrior! All the wealth he possessed and hoped yet to gain depended on his trade alliances with such ruthless men as Sigurd Knutson…though Magnus at that moment rejoiced that his daughter had been spared the fate of marrying this monster.

  So Nora had called him, begging Magnus with desolate tears in her eyes to reconsider the marriage though he had turned a deaf ear to her.

  How could he not what with Agnes’s incessant harping? His shrewish second wife had threatened to make his life a misery if he did not fully support the match!

  Magnus shuddered, wondering what Agnes would say at this surprising news. At least Nora hadn’t drowned, but he still knew so little. Sigurd had left his side to approach one of the corpses. With a terrible howl, the enraged Norseman brought down his broad axe and buried the blade in what was left of poor Father Edmund.

  Now Magnus did become sick, dropping to his knees to vomit upon the ground. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Sigurd’s men began to jeer his weakness and beat their weapons upon their painted wooden shields.

  “Get up, MacTorkil!”

  Magnus began to rise but he wasn’t fast enough for Sigurd, the hulking gi
ant grasping him by the collar of his tunic and hauling him to his feet.

  “Do you not wish to hear what I learned from those bastards before I set them aflame?”

  Magnus nodded while Sigurd’s face grew bright red, spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth.

  “The two priests were fleeing to the stable, but my men caught them and dragged them to me. The fat one said he’d found this ring, Nora’s ring! Do you recognize it?”

  Again Magnus nodded at the blue sapphire ring sparkling in Sigurd’s huge callused hand, until the Norseman clenched his fist around it.

  “The old priest refused to say much at first—told me that he’d sworn a sacred vow not to utter a word of what had transpired until I threatened to cut the fat one’s throat. Your daughter was carried near drowned to the church by this Niall O’Byrne, who must have been the man that dove from the dock to save her. He revived her and then decided to marry her. My promised bride!”

  Shouts of derision erupted around them at Sigurd’s words, his men once more striking their shields with intensifying fury. All it took was one wave from the huge Norseman to silence them. Sigurd grabbed Magnus by the front of his tunic and pulled him to within inches of his pox-marked face.

  “Tell me of Niall O’Byrne! Who is he? Where will I find him?”

  Magnus tried not to grimace, Sigurd’s breath was so foul. “If it’s the same man I know of, he’s Tanist to his elder brother Ronan Black O’Byrne, chieftain of the Glenmalure O’Byrnes.”

  “Tanist?”

  “Aye, he would succeed as chieftain if anything befell Black O’Byrne, a legendary rebel in Éire. The Normans fear him. Hate him and his clansmen for their fierce raiding against them.”

  “By Odin, how did Niall O’Byrne come to be in Ostmentown? The man who saw him jump into the river after my bride said he lived at a tavern for weeks! Others called him a drunkard—”

  “I-I don’t know, Lord Knutson…unless the rumor heard from Dublin was true.”